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diff --git a/41515-8.txt b/41515-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ce65cb9..0000000 --- a/41515-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8436 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Wheat and Huckleberries, by Charlotte Marion -(White) Vaile, Illustrated by Alice Barber Stevens - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: Wheat and Huckleberries - Dr. Northmore's Daughters - - -Author: Charlotte Marion (White) Vaile - - - -Release Date: November 30, 2012 [eBook #41515] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES*** - - -E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustrations. - See 41515-h.htm or 41515-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41515/41515-h/41515-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41515/41515-h.zip) - - - - - -[Illustration: "MORTON FOUND TIME TO ANSWER ALL HER QUESTIONS."] - - -WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES - -Or - -Dr. Northmore's Daughters - -by - -CHARLOTTE M. VAILE - -Illustrated by Alice Barber Stevens - - - - - - - -BOSTON AND CHICAGO -W. A. WILDE COMPANY - -Copyright, 1899, -By W. A. Wilde Company. - -_All rights reserved._ - -WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES. - - - - -To J. F. V. - -This Story - -TOO SLIGHT TO BE AN OFFERING TO HIM, BUT WRITTEN -IN DEAR REMEMBRANCE OF HIS EARLY HOME -AND OF MINE - -Is Lovingly Dedicated - -C. M. V. - - - - -CONTENTS - CHAPTER I--HARVEST AT THE FARM - CHAPTER II--TALKING IT OVER - CHAPTER III--BETWEEN TIMES - CHAPTER IV--AT THE OLD PLACE - CHAPTER V--AUNT KATHARINE SAXON - CHAPTER VI--AUNT KATHARINE--CONTINUED - CHAPTER VII--HUCKLEBERRYING - CHAPTER VIII--A PAIR OF CALLS - CHAPTER IX--A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE - CHAPTER X--SOME BITS OF POETRY - CHAPTER XI--AN OUTING AND AN INVITATION - CHAPTER XII--WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK - CHAPTER XIII--INTO THE WEST AGAIN - CHAPTER XIV--THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION - CHAPTER XV--ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING - CHAPTER XVI--IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS. - "Morton found time to answer all her questions" - "He leaned on the gate when he had opened it for the girls" - "She opened the door in person" - "Tom and Kate watched them go" - "'It has been delightful to see you in this lovely old home'" - - - - -CHAPTER I - -HARVEST AT THE FARM - - -Just how Dr. Philip Northmore came to be the owner of a farm had never -been quite clear to his fellow-townsmen. That he had bought it--that -pretty stretch of upland five miles from Rushmore--in some settlement -with a friend, who owed him more money than he could ever pay, was the -open fact, but how the doctor had believed it to be a good investment -for himself was the question. The opportunity to pay interest on a -mortgage and make improvements on those charming acres at the expense of -his modest professional income was the main part of what he got out of -it. The doctor, as everybody knew, had no genius for making money. - -However, he had never lamented his purchase. On the principle perhaps -which makes the child who draws most heavily on parental care the object -of dearest affection, this particular possession seemed to be the one on -which the good doctor prided himself most. Its fine location and natural -beauty were points on which he grew eloquent, and he sometimes referred -to its peaceful cultivation as the employment in which he hoped to spend -his own declining years, an expectation which it is safe to say none of -his acquaintances shared with him. - -So much for Dr. Northmore's interest in the farm. It had a peculiar -interest for the feminine part of his household in the early days of -July, when wheat harvest had come and the threshing machine was abroad -in the land. It was too much to expect of Jake Erlock, the tenant at the -farm, who, since his wife's death had lived there alone, that he would -provide meals for the score of threshers who would bring the harvesting -appetite to the work of the great day. Clearly this fell to the -Northmores, and the doctor's wife had risen to the part with her own -characteristic energy. But for once, on the very eve of the threshing, -she found herself facing a sudden embarrassment. Relatives from a -distance had made their unexpected appearance as guests at her house, -and to leave them behind, or take them into the crowded doings at the -farm, seemed alike impossible. The prompt proposal of her daughters, -that they, with the combined wisdom of their seventeen and nineteen -years, should manage the harvest dinner, hardly seemed a plan to be -adopted, and would have found scant attention but for the unlooked-for -support it received from one of the neighbors. - -"Now why don't you let 'em do it?" said Mrs. Elwell, who had happened in -at the doctor's an hour after the arrival of the guests. "You've got -everything planned out, of course, and there'll be lots of the neighbor -women in to help. There always is." - -She caught the look of entreaty in the eyes of the girls and the doubt -in the eyes of their mother, and added, "Now I think of it, I could go -out there myself just as well as not. There isn't anything so very much -going on at our house to-morrow, and I'd be right glad to take a hand in -it. I'll risk it but what the girls and I can manage." - -Manage! There was no question on that score. Mrs. Northmore's eyes grew -moist and she opened her lips to speak, but her good friend was before -her, her pleasant face at that moment the express image of neighborly -kindness. "Now, with all you've done for us, you and the doctor, to make -a fuss over a little thing like this!" she said. And Mrs. Northmore, -with the grace which can receive as well as render a favor, accepted the -offer without a protest. - -That was how it happened that Esther and Kate Northmore went to the -harvesting at the farm, in their mother's stead, the next morning. Kate, -at least, carried no anxiety, but Esther, as the older, could not lay -aside some uneasiness, not so much lest things should go wrong as lest -their generous friend might be too much burdened, and the thought of all -there was to do lent an unusual gravity to her sensitive face. - -It was a perfect July day, with the sky an unbroken blue except for the -clouds which floated like golden chaff high in the zenith. The great -machine, flaming in crimson against a background of gold, stood among -the ripened sheaves, and a score of sunburned men urged the labor which -had begun betimes. - -Ah, there is no harvest like this of the wheat. It comes when the year -is at its flood, and the sun, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race, -holds long on his course against the slow-creeping night. What -ingathering of the later months, when the days have grown short and -chilly, can match it in joy? The one is like the victory that comes in -youth, when the success of to-day seems the promise for to-morrow; the -other is the reward that comes to the worn and enfeebled man, who -whispers in the midst of his gladness: "How slight at best are the gains -of life!" - -Esther was too young to moralize and too busy with the very practical -work of helping with the dinner to grow poetical over the harvest scene, -but the beauty of it did hold her for a minute with a long admiring gaze -as she stood by the well, where she had gone for a pitcher of fresh -water. - -A man in gray jeans had hurried from the edge of the field at sight of -her, to lower the buckets hanging from the old-fashioned windlass. She -detained him a moment when he had handed her the dripping pitcher. - -"We couldn't have had a better day than this, could we?" she said. "And -what a good thing it is that you and father decided to put in the wheat! -He was speaking of that at breakfast this morning, and he says it was -all your doing. There was such a poor crop last year that for his part -he was almost afraid to try it again." - -The man's face shone with gratified pride. "Well, I reckon the doctor -ain't fretting over it much now that I had my way," he said. And then he -added modestly: "But I might have missed it. You never can tell how a -crop'll come out till you see the grain in the measure." - -"Well, we're seeing that to-day," said the girl. "How much will there -be?" - -"We can't rightly tell till it's all threshed out," said the man; "but -Tom Balcom 'lows it'll average as well's anything they've threshed, and -they've had thirty-five bushels to the acre." - -Figures did not mean much to Esther, but her "Oh!" had a note of -appreciation. Then, as he was turning away, she said earnestly: "I hope -we shall have a good dinner for you, Mr. Erlock. Mother was ever so -sorry she couldn't come out to-day herself; I believe she was afraid you -wouldn't fare as well as you ought without her. But Mrs. Elwell came, -and between us all we won't let you suffer." - -"I hain't a bit o' doubt about the victuals being good," said the man, -gallantly. "I hope you found things all right in the house. I tried to -red up a little for you." - -"Oh, everything was in beautiful order, and the women are all praising -your good housekeeping," said Esther, smiling. - -He looked at once pleased and embarrassed. "I did the best I could," he -said, then turned with an awkward nod and hurried again to his work. - -She remembered hers too, and hastened with her pitcher back to the -house. It was a one-story frame, with gray shingled sides and a deep -drooping roof whose forward projection formed a porch across the entire -front. Ordinarily it wore an expression of shy reserve, but to-day, with -doors and windows open, and the hum of voices sounding through and round -it, it seemed to have taken a new interest in life and looked a willing -part of the cheerful scene. - -The kitchen which the girl entered was full of country women, so full -indeed that it seemed a wonder they could accomplish any work, but every -one was busy except a young woman with a baby in her arms, who sat -complacently watching the labors of the others. - -It is the neighborly fashion in the middle West for the women of -adjoining farms to help each other in the labors of this busiest time in -the year, and the custom had not been omitted to-day because there was -no one to return the service. It was rendered willingly as ever, partly -from regard for Dr. Northmore, and partly from sympathy with the lonely -householder who managed his farm. - -"I had to stop and talk a minute with Jake Erlock," said Esther, -apologetic for her slight loitering now that she felt the hurry of the -work again. "He came up to draw the water for me, and you ought to have -seen him blush when I told him you all thought he was a good -housekeeper." - -"Well, if he has any doubt what we think on that point, he'd better come -in here and we'll tell him," said a woman who was grinding coffee at a -mill fixed to the wall. "I don't believe there's another man in this -township that would manage as well as he does. I wouldn't answer for the -way things would look at our house if 'twas _my_ man that had the -running of 'em." - -Groans and headshakings followed this remark. Apparently none of the -women present felt any confidence in the ability of their respective men -to run the domestic machinery. - -"Well, Mis' Erlock was a mighty good housekeeper herself," observed one -of them. "And I reckon Jake thinks it wouldn't be showing proper respect -to her memory to let everything go at loose ends now she's gone. I tell -you, Jake's an uncommon good man in more ways than one. 'Tain't -everybody that would stay single as long as he has, but that's just what -I expected from the feelings he showed at the funeral, and it coming so -long afterward too." - -A murmur of assent showed that the speaker was not the only one who -remembered the emotion of the bereaved man on that mournful occasion, -which, as had been suggested, occurred some time after his wife's death, -the delay of the sermon devoted to her memory being occasioned, as often -happens in country districts of the West and South, by the absence of -the preacher proper, whose extended circuit gives him but a portion of -the year in one place. - -"Well, 'twas to his credit, of course," observed an elderly woman who -was shelling peas; "but I must say I don't like this way of putting off -the funeral so long. I think burying people and preaching about 'em -ought to go together, and if you can't have your own preacher, you'd -better put up with somebody else, or go without." - -"I don't know about that," said the young woman with the baby. "It looks -to me as if folks were in a mighty hurry to get the last word said when -they can't wait for the right one to say it. I shouldn't want my husband -to be so keen to get through with it all, if 'twas me that was taken." - -"Maybe you'd want him to do like the man that took his second wife to -hear his first wife's funeral," retorted the other. - -The defender of local custom admitted, in the midst of a general laugh, -that this was carrying it too far, and then the conversation turned on -the probability of Jake Erlock's marrying again, the various suitable -persons to be found should he feel so inclined, and the importance in -general of men having some one to take care of them, and of women having -men and their houses to take care of. - -The subject which, with its ramifications, seemed fairly inexhaustible -was making Kate Northmore yawn and had fairly driven Esther from the -room, when a young man with a bright, sunburned face and a pair of -straight, broad shoulders looked in at the window. - -"My, how good it smells in here!" he exclaimed in a voice that went well -with the face. "What all are we going to have for dinner, Aunt Jenny?" - -Mrs. Elwell, who was testing the heat of the oven on a plump bare arm, -turned a flushed face and motherly smile on the speaker. - -"Everything nice," she said. "You never saw a better dinner than the -girls have brought out for you. What do you say to fried chicken, and -new potatoes, and green peas, with pie and doughnuts to top off, and -lots of other good things thrown in extra?" - -The young man smacked his lips and sent a devouring glance around the -room. "Say!" he repeated. "Why, I say it's enough to make a fellow feel -like John Ridd and thank the Lord for the room there is in him. When are -you going to give us a chance at all that?" - -"When the bell rings, of course," said Kate Northmore, looking up at him -with a saucy glance from the meal she was sifting. "You didn't expect to -get anything to eat now, I hope." - -"Oh, not anything much," said the young man, helping himself to a -doughnut from a plate which stood within easy reach. "I just looked in -to tell you that while you're getting, you'd better get us a plenty. -We're a fearful hungry crowd, and there won't be much left over; but if -there should be, it might come in handy to-morrow." - -"_To-morrow!_" repeated Kate, letting the meal which was whirling under -her hand fall level in the pan. "You don't mean that there's any danger -of your being here to-morrow, do you?" - -The young man brushed the chaff from the shoulders of his blue flannel -shirt, and set his straw hat a little further on the back of his head -before he answered. Kate's "_To-morrow_" had put a complete pause on the -talk of the room, and every woman there was looking at him anxiously. - -"Well, I wouldn't really say that there's any need of worrying about it -_yet_" he said, lowering his voice to a confidential tone; "but you see -the men have heard that you and Esther are such stunning good cooks -that--well, of course, I don't want to give 'em away, but I don't know as -you can blame 'em any for wanting to make the work hold out so as to get -in an extra meal or two here, if they can. That's all." - -There was a shout at this, and Mrs. Elwell said reproachfully, "Now, -Morton, quit your fooling. Aren't you ashamed of yourself to come -scaring the girls with your talk about to-morrow? Why, we thought the -machine had broken down, or something of that sort." - -He did look a little conscience-smitten just then, as Esther, who had -caught some hint of excitement in the dining room, where she was setting -the table, appeared in the doorway, looking really troubled. Kate was -facing him with a different expression. - -"Well, since you're so anxious about to-morrow, Mort Elwell, you needn't -eat any more of those doughnuts," she said, snatching up the plate -toward which his hand was moving a second time, and setting it out of -his reach. "We may want them, you know." - -He drew down his face to an injured expression. "That's the way you -treat a body, is it, when he comes to give you a friendly warning? All -right, I'll go now. I see I'm not wanted." - -He shifted his position as he spoke, and the next moment the pitchfork, -on which he had been leaning, was thrust through the window, and as -quickly withdrawn, with a doughnut sticking on every point. "Good-by, -Kate," he shouted, as he disappeared. "If the doughnuts don't hold out, -you can make some cookies for to-morrow." - -He had the best of it, and after a moment, apparently, even Kate forgave -him, "the rascal," as she called him, with a toss of her pretty head. -And then the talk of the kitchen took a new turn, suggested by the -thought of all the ills which would have followed if an accident had -really happened to the machine. There had been such accidents in the -experience of most of those present, and they were recounted now with -much fulness of detail and some rivalry as to the amount of agony -endured in the several cases by the workers in the culinary department. - -"It's the worst thing there is about threshing," said the woman who had -related the most harrowing tale of all. "I don't care how many men there -are, and I don't mind cooking for 'em, and setting out the best I've -got,--seems as if a body warn't thankful for the crop if they don't,--but -when the machine gets out of order, and the work hangs on, and you have -the men on your hands for three or four days running, just eating you -out of house and home, and keeping you on the jump from morning to -night, getting things on the table and off again, I tell you it's -something awful." - -There was no demur to this sentiment, but there was still another phase -of distress to be mentioned. - -"No," said one of the others, "there ain't anything quite as bad as -that, but it's the next thing to it to have the threshers come down on -you without your having fair warning that they're coming. I never _will_ -forget what a time we had last year. Abe had been telling me all along -that they were going to stack the wheat and thresh in the fall, when one -day, 'most sundown, up comes the threshing machine right into our barn -lot. I told the men there must be some mistake, but they said, no, -they'd just made a bargain with Abe, and were going to begin on our -wheat in the morning. I tell you I was that mad I couldn't see straight. -Abe he tried to smooth it over, said he found the men had been thrown -out at one place, and he thought he'd better close right in on 'em, and -I needn't to worry about the victuals--just give 'em what I had." - -She paused with an accent of inexpressible contempt, and covered her -husband's remarks on that point with the words, "You know how men talk! -Why, even our side meat was most gone, and I hadn't a single chicken -frying size. Well, I tell you I didn't let the grass grow under my feet -nor under Abe's neither. I made him hitch up and put himself into town -the liveliest ever he did, and what with me sitting up most all night to -brown coffee, and churn, and make pies, we somehow managed to put things -through. I was plumb wore out when 'twas all over, but they do say the -men bragged all the rest of the season on the dinner I gave 'em." - -Great applause followed this story, and an elderly woman remarked: -"That's one good thing about having the threshers. You're sure to get -your name up for a good cook if your victuals suit the men. I'll warrant -you'll get a recommend after to-day, girls," she said, with a nod at -Kate and Esther. "And it ain't a bad thing to have at your age," she -added, with a knowing wink. - -Esther flushed, with a look of annoyance, but Kate responded gayly: "All -right. Don't any of you tell that they made the pies and doughnuts at -home, and don't you ever let it out that you fried the chickens, Mrs. -Elwell." - -There was a sisterly resemblance between the two girls. Each was fair, -with dark hair and eyes, but Esther was generally counted the prettier. -She had a delicate, oval face, with soft, responsive eyes, and a color -that came and went as easily as ripples in a wheat-field; the sort of -face which, without the slightest coquetry of expression, was almost -sure to hold and draw again the interested glance of those who met her. -Kate's was of the commoner type, and yet there was nothing too common in -its strong, pleasant lines, or the straightforward frankness of her -ready smile. - -With so many to help, the preparations for dinner could not but move -briskly. At sharp twelve o'clock the farm bell, mounted on a hickory -post at the corner of the house, rang out its invitation, and almost -instantly the engine stopped puffing, the whir of labor in the fields -slackened, and the men had turned their faces toward the house. They -were not a company of common laborers. Many of them were well-to-do -farmers, who gave their services here in repayment or anticipation of -similar aid in their own time of need. Most of them knew the Northmore -girls, and had a friendly greeting for Kate as they passed her, standing -by the swinging bell. - -"Well, Miss Kate," said one of them, a tall, angular man, who, in spite -of his office in the district as the New Light preacher, was one of the -most active workers, "I'll wager you never rang a bell before for such a -hard-looking crowd. We're 'knaves that smell of sweat.' But there's -folks that look better in worse business, and I reckon you don't mind -the looks of us as long as we behave ourselves. How many do you want at -once? I s'pose we can't all sit down at the first table." - -"Well, then," broke in a hearty young farmer, with a twinkle in his -eyes, "I move that the preacher goes in with the last crowd. We don't -any of us want to run our chances after he gets through." - -"Oh," said the preacher, good-naturedly, "I was calculating to wait, -anyhow. Shan't have any scruples then against taking the last piece." - -"Well, I'll engage that the last piece shall lie as good as the first," -said Kate; "but we can't give more than ten of you elbow-room at once. I -might count 'Eeny, meny, miny, mo,' to see which of you shall come in -now, but there's a pan of corn-bread in the oven that I'm watching, and -I think you'd better settle it yourselves." - -Apparently there was no difficulty, for in an extraordinarily short -space of time the toilets made at the well were finished, and the dinner -was furnished with guests. Loaded as the table was with good things, it -might have seemed part of a Thanksgiving scene but that the holiday air -was quite wanting to the men who sat around it. There was not much -conversation. Some observations on crops and the price of wheat, or an -occasional bit of good-natured raillery, filled the infrequent pauses in -the business of eating, but the latter was carried on with a heartiness -which spoke well for those who had spread the feast. - -Outside, however, in the shadow of the great beech by the kitchen door, -there was a waiting group who found time for talking, and the preacher, -whose long, lank figure was stretched in the midst, was easily taking -the leading part. Some remark had evidently started him on a train of -reminiscences, and his mellow, half-drawling tones floated through the -kitchen door, and mingled with the clatter of the dishes. - -"Yes, there's been a heap o' change in this country since I came here -twenty years ago. 'Twas pretty much all timber through here then, and -there warn't a foot o' tile in this end o' the county. I hired out to -old Jim Rader. He was just clearing up his farm. Lord, he used to have -me up by four o'clock in the morning, grubbing stumps, with the fog so -thick you couldn't tell stump from fog before you." - -"I reckon you made the acquaintance of the ager 'bout that time," -observed one of the group as the preacher paused. - -"Ague!" repeated the other, raising himself on his elbow and eying the -speaker. "Wall, I reckon! If there's any kind I didn't get on speaking -terms with, I'd like to know the name of it. I've had the third-day -ague, and the seventh-day ague, the shaking ague, and the dumb -ague--though why 'twas ever called 'dumb' beats me. If there's anything -calculated to make a man open his mouth and express his mind freely on -the way things go in this neck o' wilderness, it's that particular kind. -Lord! My bones have ached so, I'd have given any man a black eye that -said there was only two hundred of 'em. However, I got shet of it at -last, taking quinine. Reckon this country couldn't have been settled up -without quinine, and I stayed with Rader two years and helped him break -in the land. Didn't like the business much, but I had a notion in my -head that I wanted to make a preacher of myself, and I didn't quit till -I had the means to do it. Didn't get over-much schooling, but I wouldn't -take a heap for what I did get. Mort!" he exclaimed, turning abruptly to -the young man at his side, "how have you been getting on at college? -They say you're going to stick right to it." - -"I haven't had to give up yet," said the young man, quietly; "and I -don't think it's likely any part of the course will be harder than the -first two years." - -"Reckon your uncle don't come down very heavy with the stamps yet," said -the preacher, grimly. - -The young man flushed. "'Tisn't my uncle's business to send me to -college," he said; "I never asked him to." - -"That's right, that's right," said the preacher, heartily. "I like your -grit. For that matter, you might as well spend your breath trying to -blow up a rain as trying to persuade him to spend any money on schooling -that he didn't haf to. But how did you make it? You must have found it -hard pulling at first." - -"Oh, at first I sawed wood," said the other, lightly, "and I'll own that -was hard pulling. Half a cord before breakfast is a pretty fair stint, -but I managed to make it. After that 'twas different things. I never had -any trouble getting work. It was one man's horse and another man's lawn, -and in the spring I had a great run helping the women at house-cleaning. -Got quite a reputation for laying carpets. This year there hasn't been -quite as much variety in my jobs, for I taught school in the winter." - -The preacher's sallow face was tense and the shrewd gray eyes gleamed as -he listened. "You'll do, Mort Elwell!" he said. "If I was a betting man, -I'd bet on you and take all the chances going." - -At that moment, Mrs. Elwell, who was standing in the kitchen doorway for -a moment's rest and coolness, was saying to Esther Northmore, with a -little sigh, "I don't wonder he had all he could do at house-cleaning. -If he knew how I missed him last spring! There's nobody 'round here that -can put down carpets equal to him." And then she sighed again, this time -more heavily. Every one knew that if she had her way, her husband's -nephew, who had grown up as one of their own family, would not be -working his way through college in this stern fashion. - -As for Morton himself, perhaps, being a young fellow not much given to -talking of his private affairs in public, he was glad to see a stream of -men issuing just then from the house, and it was but a few minutes later -when a second call summoned him and his fellows to their places. - -It was hardly an hour that the wheels of the great machine stood still. -At the end of that time the workers were all at their places again. And -now that the masculine appetites were satisfied, the women sat down to -eat, an occupation which they prolonged far beyond the time of their -predecessors. To the Northmore girls, indeed, it seemed as if it would -never be over, but there came an end to it at last, and even to the -washing of the dishes. - -Esther would not consent to the proposal of the women that they should -do the work without her, but Kate--with better wisdom perhaps--accepted it -with the frankest pleasure. She was a girl who had a healthy curiosity -about everything that went on around her, and no one was surprised to -see her presently standing in the field, beside the engine that made the -wheels of the threshing machine go round, getting points from the man in -charge as to how they did it. After that an invitation from Morton -Elwell, who was on the feed board, to come up and watch the work from -that point was instantly accepted, amid the laughing approval of the -crowd. For her sake the speed of the work was slackened a little, the -bundles were thrown from the loaded wagon more slowly, and Morton found -time, while cutting their bands and thrusting them in at their place, to -answer all her questions. - -It was a pretty picture she made, standing in her blue gingham dress on -this crimson throne, her sunbonnet fallen on her shoulders and her dark -hair blowing about her face, but she knew nothing of this. She was -thinking only of that wonderful machine, and she knew before she left -her place how it whirled the loosened sheaves from sight, rubbed out the -grain in its rough iron palms, sent the free clean wheat in a rushing -stream down to the waiting measure, and flung out the broken straw to be -caught on the pitchforks of the laborers behind and pressed to its place -on the growing stack. - -There was an exhilaration in it not to be dreamed of by her sister, who -glanced at her occasionally from the kitchen windows and wondered how -she could bear to be in the midst of all that heat and noise. For her -part, she was quite content to let the machine stand merely as part of -the picture. And perhaps for her it wore the greater dignity from her -vague idea of its internal workings. - -The afternoon wore away swiftly. There was a five o'clock supper to be -served to the men, but this was not the elaborate affair the dinner had -been, and by sunset of the long bright day the work indoors and out had -been brought to a successful finish. The shining stubble of the field -lay bare except for the fresh clean straw stack. The machine was -rumbling on its way to another farm, and Jake Erlock's kitchen had been -restored to a state of order equal to that in which his kindly neighbors -had found it. - -It had been expected that Dr. Northmore would come for his daughters, -but, as he had not appeared when the work was finished, they accepted -the offer of a ride home with a farmer who was going their way. The -sight of them sitting in the big Studebaker wagon must have acted as a -prompter to Morton Elwell's memory, for he suddenly recalled that he had -an important errand in town, and proposed to go along too, a proposal to -which the owner of the wagon agreed with the greatest good will. There -was not a chair for him,--the girls had been established in the only -two,--and the farmer and his hired man occupied the seat, but the young -man settled him on a bundle of straw in the bottom of the wagon, with an -air of supreme content. - -They were old comrades, he and the Northmore girls; the girls could not -remember the time when he had not been their escort and champion, their -Fidus Achates, all the more free to devote himself to their service -because he had no sisters or even girl cousins of his own. He was two -years older than either of them, and his years at college seemed to make -him older still, but if his absence had made any difference in the -perfect freedom of their relations, he, at least, had not guessed it. - -"Well, you girls must be glad to be through with this," he said, as the -team started at a rattling pace down the road. "I know you're awfully -tired." - -He included them both in his glance, but it rested longest on Esther's -face, which certainly looked a little weary under the shadow of her wide -straw hat. - -"You must be tired yourself, Mort," she said, looking down at him. -"You've been working ever since daylight, haven't you?" - -"Oh, but I'm used to that," he said gayly, "and this is new business for -you. I must say, though, I never saw things go better. There won't be -anybody round here to beat you at housekeeping if you keep on like -this." - -She frowned slightly. "It was your aunt who managed everything," she -said; "all we did was to help a little." - -"That isn't what she'll say about it," said the young man, and then he -added warmly: "but my Aunt Jenny's a host wherever you put her. There's -no doubt about that. My, what a good place this world would be if -everybody in it was made like her!" And there was an assent to this -which ought to have made the good woman's ears burn, if there is any -truth in the old saying. - -For a while the talk ran lightly on the incidents of the day; then it -grew more personal, and plans for the summer fell under discussion. -Morton's were all for work. He was of age, master of his own time, and -he meant to make a good sum toward the expenses of the coming year at -college. He talked of his hopes with the utmost frankness, and then -questioned of theirs as one who had the fullest rights of friendship. - -"Will you go away anywhere?" he asked; "or are you going to stay at home -all summer?" - -"That depends," said Kate, answering for both. "We may go up to -Maxinkuckee for a little while; but what we'd like to do, what we'd like -best--" she paused upon the words with a lifting of her hands and the -drawing of a long ecstatic breath, "would be to make a visit at -grandfather's. You can't think how he's urging us to come." - -"Do you mean go to New England?" he exclaimed, sitting up straight on -his bundle of straw. - -"Yes, to mother's old home," said Kate. "Just think, we haven't been -there since we were little girls. Mother's been trying to persuade -grandfather to come out here, but he says he's too old to make the -journey, and that we must come there. He has fairly set his heart on -it." - -"And so have the others too," said Esther. "Stella's letters have been -full of it for the last six months." - -"Stella's that cousin of yours who's such an artist, isn't she?" said -Morton. He was looking extremely interested. - -"Oh, she's an artist and everything else that's lovely," said Esther. "I -don't suppose you ever saw the kind of girl that she is. She has a -studio in Boston in the winters. She sent me a picture of it once, and -it's perfectly charming. And only think, she's been in Europe twice--once -she was studying over there. And she's seen those wonderful old places -and the famous pictures, and been a part of everything that's -beautiful." - -"That's the sort of thing you'd like to do yourself, I suppose," said -the young man, drawing a wisp of straw slowly through his fingers. - -"Like it!" she cried. "To travel, to study, to see beautiful things, to -hear beautiful music, and to be in touch every day with charming, -cultivated people! Oh, if I had half a chance, wouldn't I take it!" - -There was something very wistful in her voice as she said it, but not -more wistful than the look that came into Morton Elwell's eyes at that -moment. He turned them away from her face, and the rattle of the big -wagon filled the silence. - -"You ought to show Mort that picture of Stella you got the other day," -said Kate, suddenly. - -Esther took a letter from her pocket. "I brought it out to the farm -to-day on purpose to show your aunt," she said, and she handed him a -photograph which he regarded for a moment with a bewildered expression. - -"Why, it looks like a picture of Greek statuary," he said; "one of the -old goddesses, or something of that sort." - -"That's just the way she meant to have it look," said Esther, -triumphantly. "You see how artistic she is." - -The young man still looked mystified. "But is her hair really white, -like that?" he asked. - -"Why, of course not," said Esther, in a rather disgusted tone. "She -powdered it and did it in a low coil for the sake of the picture. Then -she put the white folds over her shoulders to make it look like a bust -against the dark background, and she had the lights and shadows arranged -to give just the right effect. Isn't it exquisite?" - -"I can't say I admire it," said the young man, grimly; "I'd rather see -people look as if they were made of flesh and blood." - -Kate laughed. She had privately expressed the same opinion herself, but -she did not choose to encourage him in criticising her relatives. - -"You're an insensible Philistine, Mort Elwell," she said, with a sly -glance at her sister. "That's what Stella'd call you, and she knows." - -The point of the taunt was lost on the young man, but he had an -impression, derived from early lessons in the Sabbath School, that the -Philistines were a race of heathen idolaters, and he resented the charge -with spirit. - -"You'd better call your cousin the Philistine," he retorted; "I'm sure I -have no liking for graven images." - -This was too much for Esther. She snatched the picture from his hand and -bent a look of admiration upon the shapely white head, with its classic -profile and downcast eyes, which made ample amends for the cold scrutiny -to which it had just been subjected. - -"It is perfectly beautiful," she said, with slow emphasis; "I don't see -how you can be unappreciative." - -Morton did not press his obnoxious opinion. He grew rather silent, and -except for an occasional sally from Kate, conversation was at a low ebb -for the rest of the way. - -Meanwhile the sunset flamed and faded in the west. The evening breeze -sprang up, and cool, restful shadows fell on the wide, rich landscape. - -"Home at last!" cried Kate, as a bend in the road brought them suddenly -upon a house of the colonial style, shaded by fine old trees, at the -edge of town. "And there's mother in the doorway looking for us." - - - - -CHAPTER II - -TALKING IT OVER - - -Mrs. Northmore was at the gate to greet her daughters when the great -wagon stopped. - -"We knew you would find some one to bring you home," she said, smiling -up at them. "Your father was disappointed that he couldn't come for you -himself, but he took our friends to the station, and then, just as he -was ready to start for you, he was called to the other end of the town. -Come in, Morton," she added, turning to the young man, who was helping -the girls over the wheel; "I must have a full account of the doings -to-day, and it may be a one-sided report if I have only the family -version of it." - -"But there is only one side, Mrs. Northmore," said the young man. -"Everything went gloriously,--specially the dinner,--and everybody behaved -beautifully except me. Kate'll tell you how bad I was. No, I can't stay. -There's an errand I must do before dark." - -"I shan't take anybody's report against _you_, Morton, unless it's your -own, and I'm not sure that I'll admit even that," said Mrs. Northmore. -It was in her eyes as well as her voice how much she liked the big brown -fellow. "Well, if you must go--but come and see us soon. Don't work so -hard this summer that you'll have no time for your friends." - -She took an arm of each of the girls and walked with them up the gravel -path between the rows of blossoming catalpas. "So the day has gone -well?" she said, glancing from one to the other. - -"As if you had been there yourself, mother," said Esther, and Kate -added: "It's been a regular picnic. I never enjoyed a day more in my -life." - -In different ways each of the girls resembled her strongly. Esther had -the broad, low forehead and serious eyes, but Kate had the resolute -mouth with a touch of playfulness lurking at the corners. A girl, much -younger than either, rolled sleepily out of the hammock as they stepped -on the veranda. - -"Oh, I'm glad you've come," she said, rubbing her eyes. "This has been -the longest, stupidest day I ever saw. Papa's been away, and mamma's -been busy with the company, and Aunt Milly's been so cross because she -couldn't go out to the farm, that she's been ready to snap my head off -every time I looked in at the kitchen. Even the cat went off visiting." - -"What a dull day you've had of it, Virgie!" said Esther, kissing the -child's flushed cheek. "But what ailed Aunt Milly? She knows she -couldn't be spared to go out there to-day." - -"Of course she knows it," said Mrs. Northmore, "and she would have felt -even worse to be spared from here, but I suspect the real grievance was -the cheerfulness with which you girls left her behind. She wanted to -feel that she was needed in both places. Poor old Milly, she can't -reconcile herself to the idea that we can really get along without her -anywhere." - -"Why didn't we think of that?" cried Kate. "If we'd asked her advice -about a lot of things, and shaken our heads over the difficulties we -should get into, with her out of our reach, she'd have been happy all -day. Esther, you and I are a pair of stupids, but I'll make it up to her -yet." - -"Oh, she's forgiven you already," said Mrs. Northmore; "and if she -punishes you at all, it'll be by way of showing you some special favors, -you may be sure of that." - -"There she comes now," said Kate, as footsteps were heard approaching on -the tiled floor of the hall; and she added, listening to the thud of the -heavy feet, whose stout slippers dropping at the heels doubled the fall -with a solemn tap, "walking as if she went on two wooden legs and a pair -of crutches." - -The comparison was not bad, and the laugh that followed it had hardly -ended when the old servant showed a lugubrious face at the door. - -"Howdy, Aunt Milly?" cried Kate before the other had a chance to speak. -"Here we are, you see, home again. I was just coming out to the kitchen -to tell you how we got along, and see if you could give us a bite to -eat. I suppose you think we had our suppers at the farm, and so we did; -but it wasn't like one of your suppers, and I guess you know how much -appetite you have when you're all mixed up with the cooking. Don't -bother to bring anything in here, but just let us sit out in the kitchen -with you." - -At this artful proposal Milly's face shortened unmistakably. "Don't -know's I've got anything you'd keer about," she began with a show of -reluctance, "but I'll knock round and see what I can find for you." - -"Oh, you'll find something--you always do," said Kate. "By the way, I -thought I smelled something good when I was coming up to the house." - -"It was the catalpa blossoms, and you know it," said Esther, laughing, -and looking at her sister with a reproving glance, when the door had -closed behind Milly. - -"Well, but she did make a spice cake, and it smells awfully good," said -Virgie. "It's warm now, and she wouldn't break a crumb of it for me." - -"There!" said Kate, triumphantly. "You see how people are helped out, -when they prevaricate for high moral ends. Come on to the kitchen. I'll -never pretend to be smart again if I can't put Aunt Milly in good -spirits before we've been there long." - -It would have been an incomplete picture indeed of the Northmore -household which did not include old Aunt Milly. An important figure she -was and had been ever since the girls could remember. But in truth her -connection with the family was of much older date than that. She had -been born and reared a slave on the Kentucky plantation which had been -the home of Dr. Northmore's boyhood. He had left it earlier than she, -having before the war gone out from the large circle of brothers to -establish himself in his profession in a neighboring state. But when, in -the changed times, the servants had scattered from the old place, Milly -had made her way to the home of her favorite, and urged with many -entreaties that she might fill a post of service there. - -Dr. Northmore could not resist the appeal, nor his young wife his wish -in the matter, and though the service had been a trying one at first to -the energetic Northern girl, yet, as time went on, and children, one -after another, were added to the household, she learned to set truer -value on the faithful, affectionate servant, whose devotion nothing -could tire; and now, when Milly was old and infirm, her place was as -secure as it had been in her palmiest days. She herself had full -confidence in her ability to fill it still, and her one fear for the -future was that she might be forced to share it with one of those -"transients" who rendered their service by the week,--a class for which -her high-bred contempt knew no bounds. - -Kate had not misjudged the effect of her stratagem on the simple old -soul. It was a long time since her young ladies had done her the honor -of eating at her own pine table, and Milly forgot the grief of the day -in the zest of her hospitality, and accepted their praises for the feast -she furnished, with a delight quite different from the forgiving dignity -with which she had meant to pierce the hearts of her darlings. - -"Well, yes, I did stir up a little cake for you," she admitted, when -Kate, after due admiration of the fresh and fragrant loaf, accused her -of misrepresenting the extent of her supplies. "Laws, I knew you'd be -wantin' a bite of somethin' afore you went to bed. It allers makes my -stomach feel powerful empty to ride in one o' them wagons, jouncin' -round in them straight-backed cheers." - -"And you must have named it for me, Aunt Milly," said Kate, with her -eyes on the cake. - -This was an allusion to one of Milly's culinary secrets, and she -received it with a smile which fairly transfigured the dusky old face. -She had her own theories of cake-making, theories which she maintained -with the unanswerable logic of her own surpassing skill. - -"You see, Miss Kate," she had said years before, when the girl had come -to the kitchen with a request to be instructed in the mysteries of the -art, "there's somethin' curus about makin' cake. It ain't all in havin' -a good receipt, though it stan's to reason if you don't take the right -things there's no use puttin' 'em together. An' it ain't all in the way -you put 'em together neither, though I 'low that makes a heap o' -difference. Folks has their 'pinions, an' there's some that says you -must take your hand to the mixin', an' some that says you must use a -wooden spoon, an' I knew one cook that would have it you must stir the -batter all one way, or 'twould be plumb ruined. But I can't say as I -_jest_ hold with any o' them idees, nor yet with the notions folks has -about the bakin', though it's true as you live, a body's got to be -mighty keerful on that p'int. Laws, I've known folks dassn't let a cat -run across the kitchen floor while the cake's in the oven. - -"I tell you, Miss Kate," Milly had proceeded, growing more impressive, -as the greatness of her subject loomed before her, "there's a heap o' -things to be looked to in the makin' o' cake, but there's somethin' -besides all them p'ints I've mentioned. It takes the _right person_ to -make it! There's some that's been 'lected to make cake an' some that -hasn't. There ain't no other doctrine to account for the luck folks has. -I'll show you my way, but I can't tell beforehand how it'll work with -you. There's one thing, though, I'll jest say private between you'n me," -she added, lowering her voice to a mysterious whisper, "an' I ain't one -to take up with no superstitious notions neither; when you want to make -an extra fine cake, you name it for somebody that loves you jest as -you're shettin' the oven door, an' if you've made that cake all right, -an' if you ain't deceived in that person, your cake'll come out -splendid." - -"But if you _are_ deceived?" Kate had suggested solemnly. - -"Then," said Milly, lifting her finger, and shaking it with slow -emphasis, "as sure's you're born that cake'll fall in the pan an' be -sad. There can't nothin' on earth prevent it." - -"But that is such an uncertain way," Kate had objected. "You can't -always tell whether or not a person loves you. Why don't you name it for -somebody that you love yourself? Then you could be sure." - -But Milly had shaken her head wisely. It was the nature of cake, as it -was of love, to be uncertain, and she refused to reconstruct her charm. - -All this had happened years before, but when, by some lucky turn of -memory, Kate recalled it now, and suggested that this perfect specimen -of cake had been baked under the inspiration of her own love for Milly, -the last shadow of the old woman's melancholy vanished. "Well, Honey," -she said radiantly, "I reckon I shouldn't have missed it fur if I had." - -She was prepared now to enjoy to the full the account which the girls -gave of the experiences at the farm, including everything of importance, -from Kate's exaltation on the machine to Morton Elwell's capture of the -doughnuts. Over the latter incident her eyes fairly rolled with delight, -and she interrupted the narrator to exclaim, "That chile's boun' to make -a powerful smart man. Puts me in mind of Mars Clay, your uncle, you -know, what got to be kunnel in the army. That chile did have the most -'mazin' faculty for comin' roun' when a body was cookin', an' the -beatin'est way findin' out where things was kep' an' helpin' hisself -that ever I did see. I never will forgit how he fooled your grandma one -year 'bout the jelly. Ole Miss she allus put her jelly in glasses with -lids to 'em. She had a closet full that year, an' every glass of it -would turn out slick an' solid. Mars Clay, he foun' he could turn the -jelly out on the lid, an' cut a slice off'm the bottom, an' jist slide -the jelly back again. I seed him do it one day, but I never let on, and -your grandma she never foun' out, but she 'lowed 'twas mighty strange -how her jelly did shwink that year." - -She shook with glee at that remembrance, and Kate forgave Morton Elwell -over again for outwitting her, since the act had been the means of -giving her one more story of the old days. But Milly's delight reached -its climax when Kate told of the favor with which the various dishes had -been received at dinner, and how Farmer Giles, after helping himself to -the third piece of corn-bread, had declared it the best he ever tasted, -to which she had replied that it ought to be; it was made by Aunt -Milly's own receipt. - -"Bless your heart, chile," cried the old woman; "you didn't tell him -that now, did you? You mustn't make the old darky too proud!" - -She did not enter with quite as much enthusiasm into Kate's description -of the threshing machine, and reverted with a sigh to the days when the -thresher was content with his flail, an instrument which she extolled as -being "a heap safer than that great snorting machine" (she persisted in -confounding its functions with those of the engine); and she refused to -share in Kate's wonder that people didn't starve in those days waiting -for the grain to be threshed. - -The two were still discussing harvests past and present when Esther, -feeling that she had done her full duty there, left the kitchen. She had -never held quite the place in Milly's affections which Kate enjoyed, nor -had she of late years listened with her sister's contentment to the old -woman's thrice-told tales. She left them now and went to seek her -mother. - -Mrs. Northmore was seated on the cool veranda with her hands in her lap, -and that look of tired content which tells of a busy but successful day. -A generous hospitality had left her a little worn. Esther sat down on -the step at her feet and leaned her arms across her lap in a childish -fashion she had never outgrown. - -"I wish I didn't get so tired of people whom I really like," she said. -"It would break Aunt Milly's heart if she knew how she bores me. It -seems to me sometimes I get tired of everybody--everybody but you, mother -dear." - -Mrs. Northmore looked into her daughter's eyes with a smile. - -"I don't think I should feel hurt, my dear, if you wanted to get away -from me, too, sometimes. Nobody quite suits all our moods. I wouldn't -reproach myself on that score, if I were you." - -"But it seems so disloyal, when it's anybody--anybody that you really -care a great deal about," said Esther. Her mother's smile kept its tinge -of amusement, and the girl's face grew more serious. - -"I wonder sometimes if I'm made like other girls," she said. "It isn't -just getting tired of people. It's getting tired of things in general, -and longing for something larger than anything that comes into my life. -I don't know as I can make you understand quite what I mean," she went -on, a strained note creeping into her voice, "but somehow it came over -me to-day more strongly than it ever did before that I could never be -satisfied just to live out my life in the common humdrum way. Perhaps it -was the talk of those women. I suppose they're just as good and useful -as the average, but it seemed as if they thought there was nothing in -the world for women to do but to be married, and keep house, and take -care of children. Even Mrs. Elwell, nice as she is, appeared to think -so, and it all seemed to me so poor and small. I almost despised them, -mother." - -The smile had gone now from Mrs. Northmore's eyes. "Oh, my dear!" she -said; and then she was silent. Of what use would it be to tell this -child, with the experiences of life all untried, that the common lot, -which she despised, had in its round the truest joys and deepest -satisfactions? Years and love and happy work must bring the knowledge of -that. She stroked the brown head for a moment without speaking. It was -Esther who found words first. - -"You never felt like those women, did you, mother? You don't seem a bit -like them. You are always reading and thinking, and you know about a -thousand things they've never thought of." - -The smile came back to Mrs. Northmore's eyes, but there was a touch of -sadness in it. "My dear girl," she said, "I'm not half as wise as you -think I am; but if I have any wisdom I'm sure I've found most of it, and -my happiness too, in those same common things. There isn't such a -difference between me and those friends of ours as you imagine." - -The girl looked unconvinced. Presently she said, with a sigh, "If one -could only _be_ something or _do_ something! When I think of the people -who have been great--the heroes, the poets, the artists, people who have -accomplished something that lasted--they seem to me the only ones who -have been really happy. Just to be one of the mass, and live, and die, -and be forgotten, seems so pitiful." - -There had never been any closed doors between Mrs. Northmore's heart and -her daughters. She had been the friend and confidante of each, and she -knew this mood of Esther's; but the day had deepened its color to an -unusual sombreness. The girl had never before disclosed a feeling quite -like this, and for once the mother was at a loss how to help her. To say -that all could not be great was trite, and had no comfort in it. - -"I think we often make a mistake in our envying of the great," she said -gently. "The happiness to them was not in being known and remembered -beyond others; few of them knew in their lifetime that this would be -true of them, or even the value of their work to the world. The real -happiness lay in doing with success the thing they cared to do. To know -our work and do it, Esther, not the sort of work nor the reward, but the -finding and doing--_that_ is the true joy of the greatest, and it is open -to us all." - -She had spoken with simple seriousness, as she always did when others -brought her their troubles, however fanciful. Perhaps the girl did not -grasp the thought, or, grasping, find the comfort in it. - -"But it seems to me that some of us have no special work to do, nor any -special faculty for doing it," she said. "Here am I, for instance. What -am I good for? I seem to myself to be just one of those creatures who -are made for nothing but to fill up the spaces between the people who -amount to something." - -Mrs. Northmore pressed her hand for a moment lightly on the dark -appealing eyes of the girl. "If we are in earnest," she said gently, -"and if it is usefulness, not praise that we are caring about, we shall -find our work; and be sure it will seem special to us if we love it as -we ought." - -There were a few minutes of silence; then the girl said more quietly, -but with a note of despondence in her voice: "If I had gone to school -longer and tried to fit myself for something, perhaps I might have found -out what I was good for. I didn't care much when I left Lance Hall, and -I never studied as hard as I might while I was there; but I've thought -more about it since then." - -A look of pain came into Mrs. Northmore's face. It was a regret the girl -had never expressed before, but one which had been often in her own -thoughts. Yet the year in boarding-school, which had followed Esther's -graduation from the high school, had been all that Dr. Northmore could -afford to give his daughter. She was considered in the region quite an -accomplished girl, but her mother, at least, realized what a broader and -more serious education might have done for her. She realized it at this -moment with unusual force. - -"I wish you might have had the best the schools can give, and some other -things you have missed, Esther," she said. And then she added, "If we -were only a little richer!" - -There was a tone in Mrs. Northmore's voice which one heard but seldom, -and the girl noted it with a sudden compunction. "I haven't missed -anything that I deserved to have," she said quickly, "and I've had more -than most girls. I know that. It's _you_ who go without things, mother. -You're always planning and saving, and pretending you don't want to have -anything or go anywhere." And then the impatience came into her tone -again, though she was not thinking of herself, as she added, "Sometimes -I can't see how it is that we have so little money to spend, when father -has such a good practice." - -Mrs. Northmore sighed. "Your father has never looked very sharply after -his own interests in money matters. He has been too busy with other -things, and too generous, for that," she said. And then she added, -almost gayly: "But I have never lacked for anything; and it is so much -easier to bear the sort of mistakes your father makes than it would be -to bear some others! The 'handle'--you remember what Epictetus says about -the 'two handles'--why, the handle to bear _our_ sort of trouble with -stands out all round, and is so big one can't help laying hold of it." - -Perhaps it was the light-heartedness with which she spoke, more than the -slight reproof which the words contained, that made Esther's head drop -in her mother's lap. "I wish I were half as good as you are, mother," -she whispered. - -The voices of Kate and Virgie from the direction of the kitchen made her -spring to her feet a minute later. "I don't want to be here when they -come," she said, dashing her handkerchief across her eyes. "I'm tired -and disagreeable. Good night." - -She was off before the others had reached the porch, and a half hour -later, when Kate followed her to her room, she was in bed, more than -willing that her sister should think her closed eyelids drowsy with -sleep, an impression which did not, however, prevent the other from -indulging in some lively monologue as she undressed. Her father had come -home, she said, and was delighted with the report of the day, but there -was a lot left to tell him in the morning. "Besides," she added, "I -could see there was something on mother's mind that she wanted to talk -over with him alone, so I came away." - -She was silent for fully two minutes, then burst out, "I say, wasn't it -great, what Mort Elwell said about Stella Saxon's picture?" She chuckled -at the remembrance, then added: "By the way, did it occur to you that he -wasn't particularly enthusiastic over the idea of our going to -grandfather's? My, but I wish we could go." - -"I don't know what difference our plans make to him," said Esther, in a -tone which indicated that her sleepiness had not reached an acute stage. - -"Oh, they make plenty of difference to him; at least yours do," said -Kate, sagely. - -"Well, he might spare himself the trouble," said Esther. "I must say I -think Morton Elwell takes too much for granted, lately." - -Kate stopped braiding her hair and stared at her sister. "I don't know -what he takes for granted, except that old friends don't change," she -said. She continued to stare for a minute, then remarked slowly: "I know -what ails you, Esther. You want to have a lot of romance and all that -sort of thing. For my part I never could see that romance amounted to -anything but getting all mixed up and having a lot of trouble." And -having delivered herself of this she apparently resigned herself to her -own reflections. - -On the porch, still sitting in the evening darkness, Mrs. Northmore was -saying to her husband at that moment: "Philip, what do you say to -letting the girls go to New England? We've talked about it a good deal; -why not settle on it? Now that the wheat has turned out so well, -couldn't we afford it?" - -"Why, I think 'twould be an excellent plan, Lucia," said the doctor, -cordially. "I've thought so all along, but I was under the impression -that you wanted the wheat money to go another way." - -She gave a little sigh. "Yes," she said, "I did want to reduce that -mortgage, but some things can wait better than others. It would do the -girls good to go, and I believe Esther really needs a change." - -"You think the child is not well?" queried the doctor, with a note of -surprise in his voice. - -"Oh, not ill," said Mrs. Northmore, quickly, "but"--she hesitated a -moment, "she is rather restless and inclined to be a little morbid and -moody. It might be worth a good deal to her to have a change of scene, -and get some new ideas." - -"By all means pack her off," said the doctor. "It's a prescription I -always like to give my patients; and if that is yours for her I'll fill -it with all confidence." He rose and stretched his long arms with a -tired gesture. "I believe it's bedtime for me," he said, "and I rather -think it ought to be for you too." - - - - -CHAPTER III - -BETWEEN TIMES - - -It was at breakfast the next morning that the great decision was -announced. - -"Well, young ladies," said the doctor, looking from one to the other of -his older daughters, "what do you think your mother and I have decided -to do with you?" He paused for just an instant, then gave the answer -himself without waiting for theirs. "Nothing short of sending you East -for the rest of the summer. We've held a council, and decided that -nothing else will do in your case." - -They caught their breath, gasping for a moment at the suddenness of it, -then Kate brought her hands together with a clap. "Glorious!" she cried; -"that's the best news I ever heard. But, do you know, I felt in my bones -last night that it was coming." - -The doctor laughed. The idea of this plump young creature deriving any -premonitions from her bones amused him. "And what did yours indicate?" -he asked, turning to Esther. - -"Nothing as delightful as that," she said. Her face was not as bright as -Kate's. She wondered, with a sudden misgiving, whether her discontented -mood of the evening before had any share in bringing the decision, and -the thought was in the glance which she sent at that moment toward her -mother. - -The latter met it with a smiling clearness. "Your father has been in -favor of it for some time," she said, "and now that the wheat has turned -out so well there is really nothing in the way." - -The shadow flitted from Esther's eyes. "Oh, it will be beautiful to go, -perfectly beautiful! I only wish Virgie could go, too," she said, with a -glance at the little sister, whose face had grown very sober. - -"Now you needn't worry a bit about Virgie," said the doctor, putting his -arm around the child, who sat beside him. "Your mother and I couldn't -stand it without her, and we're going to see that she has a good time. -Just you wait, Virgie," he added, lowering his voice confidentially, "I -have a plan for this fall, and you're going to be in it. There'll be a -fine slice of cake left for us three when the others have eaten theirs -all up." - -He was exceedingly fond of his children. With their training, either -physical or mental, he had never charged himself,--perhaps because they -were girls,--but to gratify their wants, and to shield them as far as -possible from the hardships of life, was a side of parental privilege to -which he was keenly responsive. - -"But when are we going?" Kate was already demanding. - -"Just as soon as your mother can get you ready," said the doctor; "and I -shouldn't think that need to take very long. I fancy she has your -wardrobe planned already. Something kept her awake last night, and when -I asked her, sometime in the small hours, what it was, she said she was -contriving a new way to make over one of your old dresses. For your -mother," he added, smiling at that lady, "is like the wife of John -Gilpin. Though bent on pleasure--yours, of course--she has 'a frugal -mind.'" - -"Think of being likened to that immortal woman!" cried Mrs. Northmore. -"I only hope my plans will work better than hers did." - -"Oh, your plans always work," said the doctor. "But don't tax your wits -too far reconstructing old clothes. Get some new ones; get 'em pretty -and stylish. I want the girls to be fixed up nice if they're going to -visit those Eastern relatives." - -"Hear! hear!" cried Kate. "Papa, your ideas and mine fit beautifully." - -He was in the best of spirits. The good wheat crop had already brought -the payment of some long-standing medical bills, and Dr. Northmore could -always adjust himself to a time of abundance more gracefully than to the -day of small things. - -"We shall treat you handsomely in the matter of our expenses, you may -depend on that," said his wife. She had no intention of relaxing her -carefulness in the use of money; but she never wounded her husband's -pride, and she always indulged him in the amused smile with which, in -times of comparative ease, he seemed to regard feminine economies. - -There were plenty of them in the days that immediately followed, but the -girls had most of the things they wanted, and their father was more than -satisfied with the pretty becoming dresses in which they bloomed out, -one after another, for his benefit. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Northmore -was quite as desirous as he that her girls should be well provided for -this summer outing. She was a bit of a philosopher, but she never -affected the slightest indifference to the matter of dress. She had -excellent taste herself, and had given it to her children. - -Things moved so swiftly that in little more than a week they were ready. -There were good-by calls to be made, and a host of others to be received -from friends who came to offer their congratulations and express -effusive hopes for their pleasure during the summer, for the news of -their plan had spread rapidly. But there was one friend to whom word -came late, and who, but for accident, might have missed it altogether. - -This was Morton Elwell. The girls were walking home from the village -late one afternoon, when Kate, glancing back, saw the young man with the -New Light preacher. The two had been harvesting together at the other -end of the county, and since that day at the farm neither of them had -been in town. - -"There's Mort Elwell!" she exclaimed; and then she faced about, drawing -her sister with her, and waited frankly for him to come up. - -The two men quickened their steps instantly. "Upon my word, I didn't -know you till you turned," said Morton. "My, how fine you look!" - -Kate smiled, and Esther flushed. Perhaps it was one of the liberties she -did not quite like his taking, that he should be so plainly observant of -their new dresses. - -"Well, it's a wonder that anybody knows _you_, face to face, Mort," said -Kate. "I declare you're as brown as a mulatto." - -"Am I?" said the young man cheerfully. "Well, I'm at the engine now, and -what with smoke and sunburn it paints a fellow up in good style." - -"I suppose you know we're going away next Wednesday," said Kate. She had -fallen behind with him, leaving Esther to walk with the preacher. - -"Why, no, I didn't know it," said Morton, fairly stopping in his walk. -"Is that so?" - -"'Certain true, black and blue,' as we used to say when we were -children," replied Kate. "We're going to Grandfather Saxon's. It was all -settled that night after we got home from the threshing." She paused a -moment; then, as he had not spoken, added, with a little pout: "I -suppose you couldn't strain a point to say you're glad. Everybody else -seems to say it easily enough." - -"Why, of course I'm glad," said Morton, hastily, "and I hope you'll have -a tremendously good time; but it sort of takes a body's breath away, -it's so sudden. When are you coming back?" - -"We're not thinking of that part yet," said Kate; "but not before -September." - -His face lengthened. "Why, I shan't see anything of you girls all -vacation," he said. "I did think when the harvesting was over I should -get an occasional glimpse of you. I wish threshing hadn't begun so early -this year." - -"What's that?" said the preacher, turning his head. "Wanting seed time -and harvest put off for your special benefit! That won't do, Mort." - -"Oh, not that exactly," said the young man. "But it _is_ sort of hard on -a fellow not to get any chance of seeing his friends all summer, when -that's the only time in the year he's at home." - -"There'll be plenty of your friends left," said Esther. She had half -turned her head, and was looking wonderfully pretty in her new leghorn -hat with the corn-flowers and poppies. - -"Oh!" he said, reproachfully; but he had no chance to say anything more -just then, for the preacher claimed her attention. - -"How far East are you going?" he asked. - -"To mother's old home in New England," said the girl. The preacher gave -a surprised whistle. "Was your mother raised back there?" he demanded. -"Well, I never should have known but she was a born Hoosier." - -As a born Hoosier herself the young lady appreciated the compliment. -"No," she said, "mother came from Massachusetts; but she's lived here -twenty years, and I don't suppose there's much difference now." - -"Oh, we'll let her have the name now," said the preacher, -good-naturedly. "But it's queer I never heard her say a word about -'Boston.'" - -"She didn't come from Boston," said Esther. "There's ever so much of New -England outside of Boston, you know." - -"'Pears to cover the whole ground for most Yankees," said the preacher, -dryly. "I don't recollect as I ever talked with any of 'em--except your -mother--that it didn't leak out mighty quick if they'd come from -anywheres near the 'Hub.' 'Peared to carry it round as a sort of -measuring stick, to size up everything else by." - -His figure was a trifle mixed, but it met the case. After a moment he -added: "Well, I'm right glad you're going. It's a good thing for young -folks to see something of the world outside of the home corner. I always -thought I'd like to travel a bit myself, but I reckon I'll never get to -do it any other way than going round with a threshing machine, and that -don't exactly hit my notion of travelling for pleasure. Eh, Mort?" he -queried, turning to the young man behind him. - -The latter was not in a mood to feel the full humor of the remark, which -he had heard in spite of his apparent attention to Kate's lively -chatter. "Can't say there's much variety in it," he replied rather -absently. - -"However," continued the preacher, turning again to Esther, "I did go to -Kentucky once when I was a little chap. No," he said, shaking his head, -as he caught the eager question in her eyes, "not in the Blue Grass -country where your father was raised, but in among the knobs where the -Cumberlands begin. It was a mighty poor rough country. I reckon you'll -see something of the same sort where you're going." - -"Oh, but that is a beautiful country! Mother has always said so," cried -the girl, looking quite distressed. - -"Well, maybe you'd call that country down there pretty too," said the -preacher, with easy accommodation, "though it's all in a heap, and rocks -all over it. Reminds me of the story about a soldier from somewhere -hereabouts that was going through there in the war-time, and stopped to -talk a minute with a fellow that was hoeing corn. 'Well, stranger,' says -he, 'reckon you're about ready to move out of here.' 'Why so?' says the -fellow, looking sort of stupid. 'Why, I see you've got the land all -rolled up ready to start,' says the soldier." - -The preacher interrupted his mellow drawl for a moment to join in her -laugh at the story, then went on: "Now my notion of a pretty country is -one that looks as if you could raise something on it; the sort we've got -round here, you know," he added, stretching out his arm with an -inclusive gesture. - -His idea of landscape beauty was not Esther Northmore's, but as she -looked at that moment over the peaceful country, golden and green with -its generous harvests, with here and there a stretch of forest rising -tall and straight against the sky, she felt its quiet charm with a -thrill of pride and gladness. "Yes; this is a beautiful country," she -said softly. "I shall never change my mind about that." - -They had reached a point where another road crossed the one they were -following, and the preacher paused in his walk. "I must turn off here," -he said. "Good-by! and take care of yourselves." He shook hands heartily -with each of the girls, and added, with a nod at Esther: "Give my -special regards to your mother. Tell her I've just found out that she's -a Yankee, and I don't think any less of her for it." - -He was an odd genius, this New Light preacher. The Northmores were by no -means of his flock, but the feeling between them was most cordial. In -his office of comforter he had touched that of the healer more than once -among the families under his care, and the touch had left a mutual -respect between him and the doctor. With Mrs. Northmore the feeling was -even warmer. Rough and ill-educated as he was, there was a native force -and shrewdness in the man by no means common, and they were joined with -a frank honesty which would have attracted her in a far less interesting -person than he. - -Morton Elwell walked on to the house, but refused the girls' invitation -to come in to supper. "You know mother would like to have you," Esther -said, with polite urgence. "She was complaining the other day that we -saw so little of you." - -But Morton was resolute. Perhaps the thresher's costume in which he was -arrayed, the blue flannel shirt, jean trousers, and heavy boots, none -too black, helped him to stand by the promise he had given Mrs. Elwell. -"No," he said; "I told Aunt Jenny I wouldn't fail to come home to -supper." But he leaned on the gate when he had opened it for the girls, -and stood for a minute as if he found it hard to turn away. - -[Illustration: "HE LEANED ON THE GATE WHEN HE HAD OPENED IT FOR THE -GIRLS."] - -"Of course you'll write to me first," he said, glancing from one to the -other. There had been a correspondence of a desultory sort between them -ever since he went away to college, and he seemed to take for granted -that it would go on now. And then he added, looking to Esther, "You -wrote to me real often when you were a little girl, and went to your -grandfather's before." - -Her color rose a trifle. "You have a remarkably good memory, Mort, to -remember such little things when they happened so long ago," she said -lightly. - -"Why, I've got every one of them now," he replied. "I was looking them -over not so very long ago, and they were the jolliest kind of letters, -with little postscripts added by Kate in cipher. She was five, I -believe, then. They were joint productions in those days, but you -needn't feel obliged to make them so now." - -"I suppose we needn't feel '_obliged_' to write them at all," she said, -lifting her eyebrows a little. - -"Oh, you wouldn't go back on a fellow like that!" said Morton. "Why, it -would break me all up." - -There was something so affectionately boyish in his manner that Kate -said instantly: "Of course we'll write to you, and tell you everything -that happens. You may wish my letters were postscripts again before you -get through with them." - -And Esther added cheerfully, "Yes, if you want to add a few more -specimens of my handwriting to that ancient collection, you shall -certainly have them." - -"Maybe we'll send you our pictures too," said Kate. "We're going to have -some taken after we get there, and if they're good--" - -He broke in upon her with a sudden eagerness. "Well, don't let your -cousin get you up like statues. I hate that kind." - -Kate burst into a laugh, but Esther looked impatient. "Oh, dear, don't -you know that common, everyday faces like ours can't be made to look -that way?" she said. - -"Can't they? Well, I'm awfully glad of it," he replied. "Good-by." And -then he grasped their hands for a moment, and struck off at a long, -swinging gait across the field that lay between their home and his -uncle's. - -The days that were left ran fast. They were full and hurried, as the -last days of preparation are apt to be in spite of the best-laid plans. -But the girls managed to take some rides with their father, who, in view -of the coming separation, seemed to expect more of their company than -usual, and Kate contrived to hold some sittings in the kitchen with Aunt -Milly, who had been in a depressed state of mind ever since the summer -plan had been decided on. In spite of being one who held with no -superstitions, a fact she never failed to mention when she had anything -of a mysterious nature to communicate, the number of dreams and -presentiments she had in regard to this visit was remarkable, and they -all tended to throw doubt on the probability of her darlings' return. - -"Why, we came back when we were children," said Kate one evening, when -the old woman was unusually depressed, "and it was just as far to -grandfather's then as it is now. It's because you're getting old and -rheumatic that you feel so blue about us, Aunt Milly." - -But Milly sighed as she shook her head. "It was different in those days, -honey," she said. "You couldn't help comin' back to your ole mammy when -you were chil'en. But you're older now, an' a mighty good looking pair -o' girls, if I do say it, an' there's no tellin' what may happen when -you get to gallivantin' roun' with the young men in your mother's -country." - -"Now, Aunt Milly," laughed Kate, "you've always pretended to think we're -only children still, and all at once you talk as if we were grown-up -young ladies. It's no such thing. Besides," she added cunningly, "didn't -we come back safe and sound from Kentucky last year? And you know there -are no young men anywhere to hold a candle with those down there." - -"That's a fac', honey," said Aunt Milly, lifting her head. "The ole -Kentucky stock don't have to knock under yet, if some things is -changed." - -"Trust Milly to stand up for her own country," laughed Dr. Northmore, -who had paused in his passage through the kitchen, and caught the last -remark. - -"And me for mine, papa," cried Kate. "I shall always like it better than -any other. I know I shall." - -Apparently he did not disapprove the sentiment, but he added warningly, -"Well, make it big enough." And then he took her away with him to join -the family conclave in talking over the proposed journey. - -They were small travellers, the Northmores, and the excursions from home -had of late years been short. The length of the one about to be taken -impressed them all. Mrs. Northmore spoke of it with manifest anxiety, -and the doctor spent much time poring over the railroad guide and -time-table. It was a work which, in spite of its fascination, harassed -him, and he alternated between the exasperated opinion that it was -impossible for any man not inspired to understand its vexatious figures, -and a disposition to combat with vehemence any one who reached a -conclusion different from his own on a single point. By this time the -course of the journey had been fully decided on. There would be but one -change of cars, and this had been hedged about with so much of -explanation and admonition that no two girls of average sense could -possibly go wrong. - -The day came at last, and a perfect day it was, when they started off. -The doctor and Virgie accompanied them to the station, but Mrs. -Northmore preferred to say the last word quietly at home. There was a -crowd of young people gathered at the station, but the time for good-bys -was brief. The through train for the East was not a moment behind time. -There was a short impatient stop of the iron steed, a sudden crowding -together for hurried farewells, then two flushed faces, half smiling, -half tearful, pressed against the window, and the great wheels were in -motion again and the travellers on their way. - -They drew a long breath as they settled fairly into their seats. "I'm -glad that part of it's over," said Kate. - -"So am I," said Esther; and then she added: "I'm glad we don't get there -right away. It's nice to have an interlude between the acts." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -AT THE OLD PLACE - - -The journey to New England was more than a mere interlude for the girls. -It was a distinct pleasure in itself. To watch the low, rich landscape -which had lain around them from their infancy change imperceptibly to -one different and bolder; the broad fields narrowing; the long, rolling -swells lifting into clear-cut hills; the forests of beech and oak, with -smooth, sunlighted floors, giving place to woods filled with a -bewitching tangle of vines and ferns--all this was a constant delight to -travellers as fresh and unsated as ours. - -"I like the wide, open stretches better," said Kate once, when they were -winding with many turns between the close-set hills. But Esther did not -assent to this. It seemed to her that nature had heaped the measure of -her bounty here,--the bounty which is beauty,--not spread it out in even -level, and something in her heart responded to the change. - -The hills had sharpened to a rugged sternness, the fields were checkered -off in little plots by lines of gray stone walls, plots in which men -were gathering hay behind oxen instead of horses, when at last they -reached the village of Esterly. - -They had passed a succession of such villages, catching just a glimpse -of pretty homes and shaded streets, with always a spire or two lifted -above them,--an endless number it seemed to the girls,--but this was the -name for which they had been breathlessly waiting, and it was no sooner -spoken than they rose unsteadily in their places and turned their faces -toward the door. - -"They'll be here, of course. I only hope we shall know them," murmured -Esther, anxiously. - -She need have had no fear. Aside from some functionaries of the station -there were but two persons on the platform of the Esterly depot when the -Western train drew in, and these two were unmistakable. One of them was -an old man, leaning eagerly forward, with his hands clasped on the top -of his cane; a small, spare man, with clean-shaven face, and a touch of -ruddy color in his cheeks, hair but slightly gray, and bright blue eyes -which searched the faces before him without the aid of spectacles. The -other was a petite young lady, in a stylish dress, with a mist of golden -hair about her face, and a hat, which seemed to belong exactly with the -face, tied in a gauzy mesh of something under her chin. She did not look -in the least like a goddess, she was too slight and genteel; but she was -clearly Stella Saxon. - -"Grandfather! Stella!" came from the one side in a moment, and "Girls! -Girls!" from the other, as the four met and embraced. - -"We knew somebody would be here to meet us," said Esther, when they had -taken another breath and a good look at each other; "but I'd no idea it -would be you, grandfather." - -"Hm," said the old gentleman, evidently enjoying her surprise. "Mebbe -you thought I'd be propped up in a big chair waiting for you at the -house." - -"If you knew the state of mind he's been in since morning!" said Stella. -"We got Uncle Doctor's telegram early, saying you'd be here on this -train, and grandfather seemed to regard it as a summons to start for you -at once. Mother and I had hard work to hold him back at all, and in -spite of us he would start an hour before time this afternoon; actually -hurried his horse to get here, too," she added, glancing with a little -grimace at the fattest of family horses which was standing before the -two-seated carriage at the side of the depot. "I shudder to think what -would have happened to him if you hadn't come." - -She was saying this last to Esther privately. The old gentleman had -started briskly off with Kate to look after the trunks. These were to -follow to the farm in a spring wagon, and securing them was a matter -involving so little delay at this quiet station that the four were very -shortly on their way behind the gray nag, which, after receiving an -admonishing "cluck" at starting off, was allowed to settle to his own -jog-trot without further attention. They made a long circuit through the -main street of the village, the old gentleman bowing and smiling to -every one he met, and obviously eager to attract attention. But as the -houses grew more scattering he laid the reins across his lap, put on a -pair of spectacles, and for a full minute gazed through them steadily at -his granddaughters. - -"You look as your mother did at your age; wonderfully like," he said, -with his eyes on Esther's face, "and you, too, but not so much," he -added more slowly, turning to Kate. He took off his spectacles and -returned them to an old-fashioned steel case; then asked, with much -deliberation, "And what do you think of your old grandfather?" - -"Why, you look just as I thought you did, only so very much younger," -replied Esther. "I'd no idea you were so strong and active." She paused -an instant, then, with a charming eagerness in her voice, added: "You -make me think of the 'Farmer of Tilsbury Vale.' You know the poem says,-- - - "'His bright eyes look brighter, set off by the streak - Of the unfaded rose that still blooms on his cheek.'" - -The old gentleman made no attempt to conceal his elation. He fairly -beamed; and Stella murmured in Esther's ear: "You've done it! His -youthful looks are his particular vanity; and to have a fresh quotation -brought to bear upon the subject!" She lifted her hands as if in despair -of expressing the effect on her grandfather, and settled back in her -seat. He had turned to Kate and was plainly waiting for her to speak -now. - -"Well," said that young lady, regarding him with cheerful scrutiny, "I -can't quote any poetry about it. It's always Esther who puts in the fine -strokes with that sort of thing; but I must say I think you look mighty -young for a man of your age." - -In its way this was equally good. Ruel Saxon evidently considered that -she had used a very strong expression. - -"Well," he said with complacence, "I guess there ain't much doubt but -what I do bear my age better 'n most men at my time of life. I guess I'm -some like Moses about that. You know it says, 'his eye was not dim nor -his natural force abated,' when he got to be a very old man." - -There was such evident surprise on the part of his granddaughters at -this remark that he added: "To be sure, Moses was a good deal older 'n I -am; he was a hundred and twenty years old when that was said of him, and -I hain't got to _that_ yet by considerable. But I'm past the time of -life that most men get to, a good deal past. I was born in the year -seventeen hundred and ninety-one, and if I live till the twenty-first -day of next June I shall be eighty-nine years old." - -He paused to let the statement take full effect, and Stella remarked: -"That's the way grandfather always tells his age. He names that year, -away back in the last century, and then he tells what his birthday next -year will make him. I don't mind his keeping account for himself that -way, but he has the same style of reckoning for the rest of us." - -"Well," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, "the women would forget -their own ages if it warn't for me and the big Bible. Now Stella here -was born in the year--" - -"There," cried the girl, "what did I tell you! And isn't it enough to -make one feel ancient, the way he rolls out the syllables? Never you -mind about me, grandfather. Tell the girls when they were born. I'm sure -they've forgotten." - -They admitted the fact promptly, but he had not yet exhausted the -subject of his own exceptional fortune in withstanding the ravages of -age. It was a theme of which he was never weary, largely no doubt from a -certain vanity, which time had spared to him in a somewhat unusual -measure, along with his physical powers. To have a fresh and interested -audience was inspiration enough. - -"It's a great blessing to retain one's faculties in old age," he said -impressively. "Now I enjoy life, for aught I know, pretty near as much -as I ever did; but it ain't so with everybody. There was Barzillai, for -instance. He was a younger man, by eight years, than I am, but he must -have been terrible hard of hearing, by his own account, and he'd lost -his taste so that there warn't any flavor to him in the victuals he ate; -though he seems to have been an active enough man in some ways," he -added reflectively. - -There was a moment's pause during which Deacon Saxon doubtless mused -upon his own mercies, and his granddaughters pondered the question, who -the unfortunate octogenarian whom he had just mentioned might be. Esther -could not remember ever hearing of any relative of that name, and it -hardly seemed to have a local flavor. She was glad when Kate, who seldom -remained ignorant for want of asking a question, inquired briskly:-- - -"Who was this Bar--what's his name, that you're talking about?" - -"Who was Barzillai?" cried the old man, turning upon the girl an -astonished countenance. "Hain't you never heard of Barzillai, the -Gileadite, the man who went down to give sustenance to David when he was -fleeing before Absalom? Don't you know about _that_, and how David -afterwards wanted to take him up to Jerusalem with him, but Barzillai -said he was too old, and asked the king to let him stay in his own -place? Hain't you read about _him_? Well, I never!" - -He paused as in speechless wonder, then ejaculated: "When your mother -was your age she could have told all about him and anybody else you -could mention out of the Bible. What on airth is she doing that she -hain't trained you up to know about it? I hope she hain't stopped -reading the scriptures herself, living out there in the West." - -"Oh, dear!" cried Kate, quite overwhelmed by this burst, and in her -jealousy for her mother indifferent for the moment to the insinuation -against her native section. "Mother knows more about the Bible than -anybody I ever saw,--except you,--and I've no doubt she told us all about -that man when we were little" (she made no attempt now at his name), -"but I never could remember those Old Testament folks." - -It is doubtful whether Ruel Saxon felt much reassured as to the training -his daughter had given her children by the cheerful manner in which Kate -made the last admission. For himself his delight in those "Old Testament -folks" was perennial. He had pored over their histories till every -incident of their lives was as familiar to him as that of his own -neighbors. He had entered so intimately into the thoughts and -experiences of those ancient worthies that it was no meaningless phrase -when, in his daily prayers, he asked that he might "sit down with -Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of Heaven." - -Ruel Saxon was a type of that class of men, passing away now even from -the hills of New England, who from infancy were so steeped in knowledge -of the Bible that its incidents formed the very background of their -daily thinking, and its language colored their common conversation. It -must be confessed that in the Old Testament he found his keenest -pleasure, but between the covers of the Old or New there was no spot -which was not to him revered and familiar ground. That all scripture was -given by inspiration of God, and was "profitable for doctrine, for -reproof, and for instruction in righteousness," was a part of his creed -on which no shadow of doubt had ever fallen. The doctrine, according to -his lights, he maintained with unction; the instruction he counted -himself well qualified to give; and the reproof he felt equally called -to administer on all needful occasions. - -It was some minutes before he could quite recover from the astonishment -of finding himself the direct progenitor of two young people who knew -nothing of that worthy Gileadite whose state in old age formed such a -striking contrast to his own. Probably he would have delivered a little -homily, then and there, on the importance of reading the Bible, had not -a turn in the road at the top of a long steep hill brought them suddenly -into sight of the old Saxon homestead. - -"There 'tis! There's the old place! Should you know it?" he demanded of -his granddaughters. - -Esther leaned forward from the back seat where she was sitting with -Stella and gazed for a moment, almost holding her breath. Then she -lifted a pair of moist shining eyes to her grandfather. "I should know -it anywhere," she said, with a thrill in her voice. "It looks just as I -have dreamed of it all these years." - -Indeed it was a picture which might easily hold its place in a loving -memory; an old white house, with a wide stone chimney rising in the -middle of a square old-fashioned roof, standing in the shelter of a -cluster of elms, so tall, so noble, and so gracious in their bearing -that the special guardianship of Heaven seemed resting on the spot. - -Kate had been looking at it steadily too, but she shook her head as she -glanced away. "No," she said, "I shouldn't know that I'd ever seen it -before; but if you had handed me the reins, grandfather, and told me to -find it somewhere on this road, I don't think I should have turned in at -the wrong place." - -They talked of nothing else as they drove slowly toward it. The motion -Ruel Saxon had made--a most unusual one--to apply the lash to Dobbin had -been checked by Esther, who declared she wanted to take in the details -one by one, and begged him, with feeling, not to go too fast, a request -which threw Stella into a state of inward convulsion from which she -barely recovered in time to prevent the old gentleman from monopolizing -the whole distance with an account of the various improvements he had -made on the house, notably the last shingling and the raising of the -door-sills. - -"You might tell the girls how you _didn't_ change the windows," she said -slyly; but if he was inclined to do this, Esther's exclamation just then -prevented. - -"Oh, those dear little old-fashioned windows!" she cried. "They're -blinking in the sunshine just as they used to. Grandfather dear, I'm so -glad you haven't had them changed into something different." - -He winced a little at this, and Stella said magnanimously, "It was -really my mother's idea. She does complain sometimes of the trouble it -is to keep all those tiny little window-panes clean, and so grandfather -thought one spring that he'd have some new sashes put in, with a single -pane of glass above and below. They had it all fixed up between them, -but I came home just in time to prevent." She gave a shudder, then -added: "I've always believed in special providences since then. Why, the -change would have been ruinous, simply ruinous! You know if you can't -have a lovely new house with everything graceful and artistic, the next -best thing is to have one that's old and quaint. I wouldn't have a thing -changed about our house for any consideration. I've set my foot down -about that." (With all her daintiness she looked as if she could do it -with effect.) "But mother and grandfather understand now, and have given -their solemn promise never to make the smallest alteration without -consulting me." - -The old gentleman had been listening to this with his mouth pulled down -to an expression of resignation which was clearly not natural to him. -"Well," he said, when she had reached her triumphant conclusion, "I've -always been of the opinion that it's best to let women-folks have their -way about things in the house. It pacifies 'em, and makes 'em willing to -let the men manage things of more consequence. You know Solomon says 'it -is better to dwell in the wilderness than with a contentious woman.'" - -"That's a fact, grandfather," said Stella, cordially; "and there's no -describing how contentious I should be if you set about changing this -old house." - -They had almost reached it now. A minute more carried them under the -elms, straight to the door. It was open, and under the latticed porch, -covered with honeysuckles on one side and bitter-sweet on the other, -stood Aunt Elsie waiting to receive them. She was a delicate-looking -woman, whose quality, as one read it at first glance, was distinctly -that of a lady. That she was somewhat precise and old-fashioned came -next, in spite of the graceful French twist in her hair and her pretty -lavender dress. She kept her place under the lattice, the color rising -slightly in her thin cheeks as the girls came up, and her manner of -greeting them, though affectionate, had none of the eager warmth of the -earlier meeting. - -Aunt Elsie Saxon, beside her vivacious daughter, or her still more -sprightly father-in-law, seemed a singularly colorless person, but her -quiet unresponsive manner covered a stronger individuality than -appeared. The war had made her a widow at the very beginning of the -struggle. In the bereavement of those first days she had come with her -children to the old home for the help and comfort she sorely needed, but -the time never came when she could be spared to leave it. And now for -many years she had been mistress of the house, bearing with the somewhat -erratic humors of Ruel Saxon as a more impulsive woman could hardly have -done, and consoled, no doubt, for much that was trying by the certain -knowledge that in his heart he loved and leaned upon her. - -There was one other member of the family circle, Tom, the -sixteen-year-old boy, but he, it appeared, had some pressing duty in the -field. At least he did not show himself till supper time, and then he -slipped in with the hired man, who, as well as himself, was duly -introduced to the cousins. He was a shy, awkward fellow, with a freckled -face, and a pair of shrewd observant eyes, in whose glance Kate thought -she detected a lurking disdain for the society of girls. She wanted to -begin making his acquaintance at once,--by way of punishment, of -course,--but his seat was too far from hers at the table, and he was off -like a flash when the meal was over. - -It seemed to both the girls that this was the longest day they had ever -known, but its hours did not outlast the pleasure they brought. Esther -could not rest till she had rambled about the place to find the old -familiar things, and her delight, as she came upon one after another, -knew no bounds. There was the cherry tree, almost strangled by the -grape-vine which hung around it in a thick green canopy, under which she -had done miniature housekeeping in those childish days, and a fragment -of old blue china, trodden in the ground, was a find to bring a joy like -that of relic-hunters in Assyrian mounds, when they come upon some -mighty treasure. - -"It was a part of our best tea-set, Stella," she cried. "Don't you -remember how I broke one of grandmother's company plates by accident, -and after mourning over it a little in her gentle way, she gave us the -pieces to play with, so I shouldn't feel too badly?" She wiped the bit -on her lace-edged handkerchief and held it for a moment lovingly against -her cheek. - -There was the bunch of striped grass, growing still at the corner of the -garden, and she felt a childish impulse to throw herself on the ground -beside it, and hunt, as she used to, for two of the long silky spears -which would exactly match. She had never quite done it in the old days. -Perhaps she could find them now. She peered up into the tallest of the -elms and shouted for joy to find the nest of a fire hangbird swinging -just as it used to among the long, lithe branches. She made her way -straight to the tree where the pound sweetings grew, and laughed to find -that it bore them still, large and golden as ever. - -And here again a childish memory came back with a rippling delight over -the years that were past. "Do you remember how I tore my dress one day, -climbing that tree to get apples?" she appealed to Stella. "I could -never bring enough down in my pocket, and if I took a basket up it was -sure to spill and the chickens to peck the apples before I got down. One -day I gave my dress a horrible tear going up. It scared me at first, and -then it dawned upon me, What a place for apples! It was a woollen dress -and the skirt was lined. I used that hole for a pocket, and filled the -skirt full. It's a wonder I wasn't dragged from the tree by the weight -of it. The gathers were dragged from the belt, I remember that -perfectly, and how grandmother looked when I went in to share the booty -with her," she added, laughing. - -Oh, it was pleasant, this wandering over the old place, the finding and -remembering! - -It was really inside the house that things were most changed; but this, -as Stella explained, was really a return to the way they rightly -belonged. Much of the furniture which Esther remembered as crowding the -dusky garret had come down, and some which her grandmother had rejoiced -in as new and handsome had taken its place there. The haircloth sofa and -chairs over which she had slipped and slidden in her youthful days had -given place to an oak settle and chairs which, in spite of their -old-fashioned shape, were roomy and comfortable. One, a delicious old -sleepy hollow, covered with the quaintest of chintz, stood in the corner -which had been the grandmother's, and the little, round light-stand was -beside it, with the leather-covered Bible smooth as glass, and the -candlestick and snuffers, as if she still might sit there of an evening -to read. - -"Grandfather himself prefers a lamp," Stella remarked, in passing; "he -says he's got past tallow dips, but out of respect to grandmother's -memory--I impressed that on him strongly--he lets me keep the stand just -as she used it." - -She certainly had a genius for restoring the old, and doing it with an -art which threw all its stiffness into graceful lines. The fireplace in -the sitting room, which had been boarded up in Esther's day, with a -sheet-iron stove in front of it, was open now, and the old brass -andirons shone at the front. The old bricks had been cracked with age, -but they had been replaced by some blue Dutch tilings representing Bible -scenes, which gave the whole a charmingly quaint effect. - -"It came high," Stella said to Esther, who hung on every word of -explanation, "and I didn't know for a while as I should get what I -wanted. There was a Colonial tile that would have been perfect, but -grandfather wouldn't hear of it. Then all at once I lighted on this in a -shop in Boston, and I knew the deed was done. Grandfather fell a victim -to my account of the pictures, and I couldn't get them quick enough to -suit him. I consider that fireplace my greatest triumph." - -The house was really a succession of them. It was only at the pictures -on the walls that the girl's desire to restore the old had stopped. "If -there had only been some fine old family portraits!" she said -mournfully. "But there weren't. I suppose our ancestors never had any -money to spend for that sort of thing. There was positively nothing but -some wretched prints, and one oil painting that grandmother saved her -egg-money for months to buy; hideous thing, quite on the order of those -that are advertised nowadays, 'Picture painted while you wait.' I had to -banish them all. There was no other way. But I found some of -grandmother's dear old samplers tucked away in the drawers, and I pinned -them up around to take the edge off the other things." - -"The other things" were some of them her own, and they mingled on the -walls with photographs of foreign scenes, and here and there an etching -with a name pencilled in the corner, to which she called attention as -they passed, with the air of one confident of impressing the beholder. - -"Oh, I've picked up a few good things in the course of my travels," she -said, after one of Esther's bursts of admiration. "I'll defy anybody to -make a better showing than I with the amount I've spent. Mother thinks -I've spent too much; but it's my only extravagance, positively my only -one, and you have to let yourself out in some direction. It's all that -makes saving worth while." - -She seemed to have no vanity about her own work, but there was one bit -of it before which Esther paused with a long delight, turning back from -famous Madonnas again and again to gaze at it. - -It was a picture of a sweet old face, framed in a grandmother's cap, -very softly done in crayon, and it hung above the little stand in the -corner. Below it, pinned carefully on the wall, was an old, old sampler, -and the faded letters at the top spelled, "Roxana Fuller, aged eleven." -It was a deft hand, though so young, that had wrought it. There was -exquisite needlework in the flowing border, and in the slender maidens -at the centre, clasping hands under a weeping willow, above the lines:-- - - "When ye summers all are fled, - When ye wafting lamp is dead, - Where immortal spirits reign, - There may we two meet again." - -Why these two sweet creatures, evidently in the bloom of life, should -have been consoling themselves with this pensive sentiment it was hard -to see; but a consolation it may have been to the poor little artist who -achieved them to think of Elysian fields where teachers should cease -from troubling and samplers be no more. - -It had grown dark in the house, too dark for any more searching of its -treasures, when the two girls at last sat quietly down in the old south -doorway. "If grandmother were only here it would all be perfect," said -Esther, with a long, soft sigh. "Somehow it seems strange that she -should be gone, and everything else just as it used to be. I had no idea -I should miss her so." - -"I always miss her when I sit in this doorway in the evening," said -Stella. "It was her favorite place. She was so feeble in those last -years that she seldom got beyond the threshold, but she said there was -always some pleasant smell or sound coming in to find her. You ought to -have seen her here in the spring. The door was always boarded up in the -winter, with a bank across the threshold to keep out the cold, and she -was so happy when it was opened. I used to tell her when the frogs began -to peep, and she would listen and smile, and say it seemed to her their -voices were softer than they used to be. Dear heart, she was so deaf in -those days that I really suppose she only heard them singing in her -memory, but it was all the same to her. - -"Yes, it was all the same," she repeated musingly, "and just as real, -though grandfather used to argue with her sometimes that a person who -couldn't hear her own name across the room couldn't hear frogs peeping -at a quarter of a mile. And she would admit it sometimes in a humble -way, but she always forgot it, and enjoyed the singing just the same the -next evening." - -"She wasn't a bit like grandfather, was she?" asked Esther. She wanted -Stella to keep on talking about this sweet old grandmother, whom she -herself had known only in a brief childish way. - -"Oh, dear, no," said Stella; "there couldn't be two people more unlike. -She never talked of herself, and she never quoted scripture unless it -was one of the promises. Grandfather always lorded it over her in a way, -and she was so frail toward the last that he did it more than ever. If -the least thing ailed her he thought she was going to die right off, and -he always felt it his duty to tell her that she was a very sick woman, -and that it would not be surprising if she were drawing near her end." - -She made a soft gurgling in her throat, then went on. - -"But that never worried grandmother a bit. She always said she was -willing to go if 'twas the Lord's will; but, do you know, in her heart -she really expected to outlive him! She told me so once confidentially, -and explained, in her perfectly sweet way, that she knew how to manage -him better than any one else, and she was afraid it would be a little -hard for us to get along with him if she were gone. She said it had been -a subject of prayer with her for years, and she had faith that her -prayer would be answered." - -She paused, and Esther said gravely: "But she did die before him, after -all. I wonder what she thought about her prayer then." Stella shook her -head. "I don't know," she said; "I imagine she didn't think of it at -all, but only that God wanted her. It would have been just like her." - -Esther did not speak for a minute. She was pondering her grandmother's -case, while the crickets in the grass filled the stillness with their -chirping, and the long, clear call of a whippoorwill sounded from the -woods. Presently she asked, "Did she know at the last that she was -really going to die?" - -"I think she did," said Stella. "I've always felt sure she did, though -no one else feels just as I do about it." - -She clasped her hands about her knees, and a graver note than usual -crept into her musical voice, as she went on. "There was something like -a paralytic stroke toward the end, and after that she never got up, but -lay in bed, not suffering any pain, but only growing weaker every day. I -was with her a great deal, and there never was any one easier to take -care of. One morning I was watering the flowers in her window and I saw -a cluster of buds, that were almost blown, on her tea rose. She was -passionately fond of flowers, and that rose was a special favorite, -though it blossomed so seldom that any one else would have lost all -patience with it. I knew how pleased she would be, so I took it over to -her bed. 'Grandmother,' I said, 'there are some buds on your tea rose; -it'll be in bloom in a day or two.' If you could have seen how her face -lighted up! 'Why, why,' she said, 'my tea rose!' And then she put out -her hands all of a tremble, as if she couldn't believe it without -touching. I guided her dear old fingers, and she moved them over the -bush as gently as if it had been a baby's face. 'Oh,' she said, 'it has -blossomed so many times when something beautiful happened! Somehow, it -seemed to know. It blossomed when Lucia was married, and the day your -mother came home to live with you children; but I never thought it would -be so now. A day or two, did you say; only a day or two more?' And then -she closed her eyes with such a smile, and I heard her saying softly to -herself,-- - - "'There everlasting spring abides, - And never-withering flowers.' - -"Her mind wandered a little all that day and the next, and she never -once spoke of leaving us, but she slipped away at night as quietly as -going to sleep, and in the morning the rose was in bloom. I told -grandfather about it afterward, but he didn't attach any significance to -it at all. In fact, I think he felt a little mortified, and he said if -she had realized that she was on the brink of eternity she wouldn't have -been thinking about a rose." - -She was silent a minute, then added: "In one way I don't know but -grandmother's prayer was answered after all, for grandfather seemed -different after her death. He has been more considerate of us all, and -we--yes, I guess we've tried harder to be good to him. We couldn't help -it when we remembered how patient she always was." - -The chirping of the crickets seemed to grow fuller and gladder in the -summer stillness, and the notes of the whippoorwill came with yet -mellower call. It was as if the influence of a sweet, unselfish, loving -spirit filled the place, and somehow it did not seem to Esther Northmore -at that moment a poor or paltry thing to have lived and died one of the -common throng. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -AUNT KATHARINE SAXON - - -In the privacy of their room that night Kate confided to Esther two -resolutions. The first was that she would not again, during her stay at -her grandfather's, needlessly expose her ignorance of any point of Bible -history: "For if we're going to get mother into disgrace, and make him -think she never taught us anything about it, it'll be a pretty -business," she ended with feeling. - -To this Esther gave cordial assent, but she was not so sure of Kate's -wisdom in the other matter; for the girl, with her usual penetration, -had guessed that the Eastern relatives held a somewhat exalted opinion -of the superiority of New England to the rest of the United States, and -announced her intention of correcting it to the best of her ability. -Esther, whose loyalty to her own section was not of a combative sort, -suggested mildly that people's opinions about things didn't alter them, -and that the grandfather, at his advanced age, should at least be left -to the enjoyment of any prejudices he might have in favor of his native -section. - -But the allusion to his age should have been omitted. Kate shook her -head at this, and declared that he of all others was the one not to be -spared. Was it not his pride and boast that time had not robbed him of -either mental or physical vigor? No, no; she should not hold herself -debarred from supplying him with new ideas on any subject. It was only -when he stood on Bible ground that she should let him alone. - -It was evident the next morning that on this ground he did not intend to -let her alone, for at family prayers he read the pathetic story of -David's flight from his unworthy son, and his eyes sought hers for a -moment with pointed meaning as he paused on the name of the loyal friend -whose swift generosity remembered the fugitives, "hungry and weary and -thirsty in the wilderness," and who of good right met them again with -rejoicing in their hour of victory. - -The quaint old story held the girl's absorbed attention to the end. She -wished it were longer, and told her grandfather so after breakfast, -adding that the way he read the Old Testament made it more interesting -than common. - -He received the compliment with complacence. "Well," he said, "I guess I -do read it better than some folks. I guess I'm a little like those men -in the days of Ezra the scribe, who stood up before the people, and -'read in the law of God distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused them -to understand.'" - -Kate privately wondered how many more people in the Bible her -grandfather resembled, but she refrained from suggesting the query, lest -he should claim her attention at once for the whole list. - -It was while they sat at table that morning that he said, looking at her -with the sudden lighting of face which marks a mental discovery: "It's -your great-aunt Katharine that you put me in mind of. I knew there was -somebody. It ain't your looks so much; but a way you have." - -"Oh, grandfather, how can you?" cried Stella. "Kate, you won't thank him -much for that when you know Aunt Katharine." - -"She's the one I was named for, I suppose," said Kate. "I've heard -mother tell about her. Well, if she's disagreeable, there won't be any -love lost between us on account of the name. I never did like it -particularly." - -"Disagreeable!" cried Stella, "why, she's the queerest, most -cross-grained, cantankerous--" - -"Stella! Stella!" said her mother, severely. "Why will you prejudice -your cousins against your poor Aunt Katharine?" - -"My poor Aunt Katharine will do it herself quick enough," said Stella. -"Oh, yes," she added with a little shrug, as she saw her mother's lips -parting again, "my mother's going to tell you that Aunt Katharine has -had a great deal in her life to try her, and that she is really a -remarkably bright and capable woman. It's perfectly true; and several -other things are true besides." - -"The trouble with my sister Katharine," said Ruel Saxon, setting down -his cup of tea, which he had been drinking so hot that every swallow was -accompanied by an upward jerk of the head and a facial contortion, "the -trouble with Katharine Saxon don't lay in her nat'ral faculties. It lays -in a stiff-necked and perverse disposition. When she gets a notion into -her head she won't change it for anybody, and she's wiser in her own -conceit than 'seven men that can render a reason.'" - -"Grandfather himself frequently personates the whole seven," observed -Stella, with a nod at her cousins. She smiled, as if the memory of some -past scenes amused her, then said soberly: "The fact of it is, Aunt -Katharine is a regular crank. There's nothing in this world that goes -right according to her notion of it, but she's particularly down on the -ways of the men. She _would_ have a little patience with women--for she -thinks their faults are mostly due to their being so down-trodden--if -they only wouldn't marry. I've heard her say so! She never married -herself, you know, and she has an awfully poor opinion of the whole -institution." - -Ruel Saxon looked as if he had a word to offer at this point in regard -to his sister's matrimonial opinions, but Aunt Elsie was before him. -"Now, don't you think," she said, looking gravely at Stella, and -incidentally including him in the passing glance, "that we'd better let -the girls form their own impressions of Aunt Katharine? They may like -her a great deal better than you do, Stella." - -"I'm sure I'm willing," said the girl, with another shrug, and her -grandfather, after wrestling with a little more extremely hot tea, -seemed to be willing too; but he suggested that the girls should make an -early call on their Aunt Katharine. It would give them a chance of -forming the desired impressions, and besides she would expect it. - -The girls accepted the suggestion promptly. Indeed Kate, whose interest -in her namesake had been considerably whetted by what had been said of -her, proposed that they should go that very morning; but to this Aunt -Elsie's judgment was again opposed. It seemed that Aunt Katharine had a -special dislike to being interrupted in her morning duties by callers, -and was disposed to think slightingly of people who hadn't "work enough -to keep them at home in the fore part of the day." In the case of her -nieces, who must certainly be excused for being at leisure, she might -waive the last objection, but it was best to be on the safe side. - -It was settled that the girls, accompanied by their grandfather, should -go that afternoon, and if the call had been upon some distinguished -person they could not have taken more pains with their toilets. Esther -debated between three gowns, and finally settled on a soft gray, with -plain white cuffs and collar, while Kate put on a pretty lawn and the -dashing Roman sash which had been Aunt Milly's parting gift. - -It was less than a half hour's walk across the fields to Aunt -Katharine's house, but the grandfather had decided to go by the road in -state, and had Dobbin and the two-seated carriage at the door in good -time. He had taken a little more pains than usual with his own -appearance, and his daughter-in-law added the last touches with careful -hand. - -She was not much inclined to the giving of gratuitous advice; but, in -the absence of the young people from the room, she did say, -persuasively, as she adjusted the old gentleman's cravat: "If I were -you, father, I'd try not to get into one of those discussions to-day -with Aunt Katharine. We want the girls to have as pleasant an opinion of -her as possible, and you know she always appears at a disadvantage when -she's arguing with you." - -Sly Aunt Elsie! There were moments when the wisdom of the serpent was as -nothing to hers. Ruel Saxon twisted his neck for a moment impatiently in -his cravat, then replied meekly: "Well, I s'pose it does kind of put her -out to have me always get the better of her. Katharine has her good -p'ints as well as anybody, and I'd be glad to have Lucia's children see -'em. If she don't rile me up too much I'll--yes, I'll try to bear with -her this afternoon. Solomon says there's a time for everything: a time -to keep silence and a time to speak; and mebbe it's a time to keep -silence to-day." - -In this accommodating frame of mind he started off with his -granddaughters. Stella had declined an invitation to accompany -them--possibly at her mother's suggestion--though the fact that the way -lay along one of her favorite drives, the old county road, had been -something of an inducement to go. - -It was one of those dear old roads, familiar in every part of New -England, through which the main business of the region, now diverted to -other highways, once took its daily course, but which, as its importance -dwindled, had gained in every roadside charm. The woods, sweet with all -summer odors, had crept close to its edge; daisies and ferns encroached -on its borders, and its wavy line made gracious curve for the rock which -had rolled from the hill above and lay beside it still, a moss-covered -perch for children and squirrels. Here, the birds, not startled too -often in their secret haunts, tilted on sprays of the feathery sumach, -finishing their songs with confident clearness as the traveller drew -near, and the swift brown lizards darted across the way before the very -wheels of his carriage. - -Miss Katharine Saxon's farm was one of those which still had contact -with the world through this deserted highway, but its comparative -isolation had not affected its well-kept appearance. The house was -white, with green blinds at the front and sides, but presented a red end -to the fields behind, after the fashion of many in that section. The -dooryard, a small rectangle, was shut off from the surrounding pastures -by a high picket fence, though there were no shrubs, or even a -flower-bed, inside the enclosure. The owner was not visible at any of -the windows as her guests walked up the gravel path, which was too -narrow to admit of their advancing in any but single file, but the brass -knocker had scarcely fallen before she opened the door in person. - -[Illustration: "SHE OPENED THE DOOR IN PERSON."] - -Even Esther had no remembrance of having seen her before, but there -could be no doubt of her identity. In feature she was singularly like -her brother, but her small thin figure was not trim and straight like -his. She was so painfully bent as plainly to need the aid of the stout -oak stick on which she leaned, and her hair, in striking contrast with -his, was snowy white. She greeted her nieces with as little effusion as -their Aunt Elsie, but her quick bright eyes betrayed a much keener -interest as they darted sharply from one to the other. - -"Well, Ruel, I s'pose you're feeling just as smart as ever to-day, and -just as able to bless the Lord that you ain't as the rest of us are. -Thank you, my rheumatism ain't a mite better 'n 'twas the last time you -was here, and my sight and hearing are mebbe a little grain worse." - -She delivered herself of this with surprising rapidity as she walked -before them into the parlor, looking back with short quick glances at -her brother. He responded by a rather discomfited grunt. Evidently she -had the start of him. The parlor was of the primmest New England type, -and so dark that for some moments the girls, sitting uncomfortably on -straight-backed chairs whose hard stuffed seats seemed never before to -have been pressed by a human figure, could scarcely make out what manner -of place they had entered. It dawned on them by degrees, and if anything -had been needed to enhance the charm of the parlor at the old homestead, -the necessary contrast would certainly have been furnished here. - -There was nothing to suggest that any of the ordinary occupations of -human life had ever been carried on in this room. The pictures which -Stella had banished would seem to have been dragged from their -hiding-places and hung on these walls, and beside them there was nothing -of mural ornament except three silver coffin plates framed in oak on a -ground of black. The Northmore girls, gazing in wonder at these shining -tablets, could scarcely believe that they were really what they seemed, -but Stella, to whom they appealed on their return, promptly disabused -them of the doubt. Most certainly these sombre ornaments had their -original place on the funeral casket. It was not uncommon, she said, to -find such relics displayed in old-fashioned houses in this region. - -"There were some in our house once," she added, "but I persuaded -grandfather to let me lay them away in the best bureau drawers. He -objected at first, but after I put up my Madonnas and cathedrals he -succumbed. I believe he considered the place unfit to display the names -of those who had died in the faith." - -But this was afterward. At present Esther was occupied with the -strenuous effort to read the names thus honored of Aunt Katharine, and -Kate was bending all her energies to discover the points in which she -herself resembled that lady. The latter turned upon them now with one of -her sharp glances. - -"So you're Lucia's girls," she said with deliberation. "Well, you ain't -as good looking as she was, neither of you. But handsome is that -handsome does; and if you behave yourselves, you'll do." - -The girls were somewhat taken aback by this, but Kate rallied in a -moment. "You can't hurt our feelings by telling us we aren't as good -looking as mother was," she said gayly, "for we know she was a regular -beauty. Father's told us that over and over." - -"I'll warrant he thought so," chuckled her grandfather, "and he wasn't -the only one, neither. Why all the likeliest young fellows in town came -courting your mother. She didn't have to take up with a Western man -because she couldn't get anybody nearer home." - -"Perhaps it was because she had a chance to compare the Western man with -those around here that she _did_ take up with him," said Kate, quickly. - -It was a fair retort; but the old gentleman's forehead puckered for a -moment as if he were not quite prepared for it. Before he could say -anything in reply his sister had changed the subject, by asking, in her -abrupt way, with her eyes fixed on her younger niece, "What do you think -of this country?" - -It is the stereotyped question from the old resident to the newcomer in -all parts of the world. Perhaps, convenient as it is in bridging over -the awkwardness of first acquaintance, it would be oftener omitted if -society remembered that dictum of Dr. Johnson's, that no one has a right -to put you in such a position that you must either hurt him by telling -the truth, or hurt yourself by not telling it. Kate Northmore had never -faced the alternative under very crucial conditions, but whatever twinge -there might be she preferred on general principles to resign to the -other party, and she did so promptly now. - -"Well, I can't say I'm very much struck with the looks of it," she said -frankly. "It's different from ours, you know; and these little bits of -fields are so funny, all checkered off with stone walls. I haven't got -used to them yet." - -Miss Saxon looked at her niece without speaking, but the grandfather -bristled at this. "Hm!" he grunted, "You Western folks seem to think -nothing's of any account unless it's big. 'Taint the size of things, but -what you do with 'em, that counts." - -"Well, it's a wonder to me what you can do with some of this land of -yours, it's so rough and poor," said Kate, lightly. "I don't see how the -farmers manage to make a living, scratching round among the rocks." -Then, with a good-natured laugh, she added: "Oh, we don't despise the -littles, out our way, as much as you think; but when it comes to wheat -and corn, and things of that sort, we do like to see a lot of it growing -all together. It looks as if there was enough to go round, you know, and -makes people feel sort of free and easy." - -Perhaps, in his heart, Ruel Saxon doubted whether it was good for people -to feel free and easy in this transient mortal state, but he had no -chance just then to discuss the moral advantages of large labor and -small returns, for Esther exclaimed, with a glance at her sister which -was half reproachful: "But there are so many other things in a country -besides the crops! For my part, I think New England is perfectly -beautiful. I believe I'm in love with it all." - -Miss Katharine Saxon turned her head and looked at the girl attentively. -The mother must have been very pretty indeed if she had ever looked -prettier than Esther did at that moment. A delicate pink had risen in -her cheeks, and her brown eyes seemed unusually soft and lustrous in the -warmth with which she had spoken. She had made a lucky suggestion, and -her grandfather took his cue instantly. - -"We never pretended that our strong p'int was raising wheat 'n' corn -here in New England," he said loftily. "The old Bay State can do better -than that. She can raise men; men who fear God and honor their country, -and can guide her in the hour of need with the spirit of wisdom and -sound understanding." - -"We've got some of that sort, too," said Kate, cutting in at the first -pause. "The only difference is you started on your list a little ahead -of us." - -But the remark was lost on her grandfather. He was on solid ground now, -and he felt his eloquence rising. "You talk about our land being poor. -Well, mebbe 'tis; mebbe we do have to scratch round among the rocks to -make a living, but we've scratched lively enough to do it, and support -our schools and churches, and start yours into the bargain. We've -scratched deep enough to find the money to send lots of our boys to -college--there's been a good many of 'em right from this district. There -was Abner Sickles that went to Harvard from the back side of Rocky Hill, -where they used to say the stones were so thick you had to sharpen the -sheep's nose to get 'em down to the grass between; there was Baxter -Slocum--thirteen children his father had--there were the Dunham boys, -three out of six in one family." - -For the last minute Miss Katharine Saxon had been moving uneasily in her -chair. Her square chin, which had been resting on her clasped hands at -the top of her cane, had come up, and her eyes were fixed sharply on her -brother. - -"While you're about it, Ruel," she said, interrupting him in the dryest -of tones, "you might just mention some o' the _girls_ that have been -sent to college from these old farms." - -Ruel Saxon, reined up thus suddenly in the onward charge of his -eloquence, opened and closed his lips for a moment with a rather -helpless expression. She waited for him to speak, her thin hands -gripping the cane, and the corners of her mouth twitching ominously. - -"Well, of course, Katharine," he said testily, "there hain't been as -many girls. For that matter there warn't the female colleges to send 'em -to fifty years ago; but you know yourself there hain't been the means to -send 'em both, the boys _and_ the girls, and if it couldn't be but one--" - -He paused to moisten his lips, and she took up the word with an accent -of intense bitterness. "If there couldn't be but one, it must be the -boy, of course,--always the boy. Oh, I know! Yes, and I know how the -girls 'n' their mothers have slaved to send 'em. It ain't the men that -have learned how to get more out of the farms; it's the women that have -learned how to get along with less in the house. There was Abner -Sickles! Yes, there was; and there was his sister Abigail, too. I went -to school with 'em both. She was enough sight smarter 'n he was; always -could see into things quicker, 'n' handle 'em better, but they took a -notion to send him to college,--wanted to make a minister of him,--and she -stopped going to school when she was fourteen, and did the housework for -the family,--her mother was always sickly,--and then sat up nights, sewing -straw and binding shoes to earn money for Abner." She paused, with a -note in her voice which suggested a clutch at the throat, then added: -"She died when she was twenty. Went crazy the last part of the time, and -thought she'd committed the unpardonable sin. It's my opinion somebody -_had_ committed it; but 'twarn't her." - -It was the old gentleman who was moving uneasily now. "It was too bad -about Abigail," he said, with a shake of the head. "I remember her case, -and 'twas one of the strangest we ever had in the church. I went out to -see her once, with two of the other deacons, and we set out the doctrine -of the unpardonable sin clear and strong, and showed her that if she -really _had_ committed it she wouldn't be feeling so bad about it--she'd -have her conscience seared as with a hot iron; but she couldn't seem to -lay hold of any comfort. However, it was plain that her mind wasn't -right, and I don't believe the Lord held her responsible for her lack of -faith." - -The old woman gave an impatient snort. "If he didn't hold somebody -responsible, you needn't talk to me about justice," she said fiercely. -"I don't know how you and the other deacons figured it out, Ruel, but if -it ain't the unpardonable sin for folks to act like fools, when the Lord -has given 'em eyes to see with, and sense enough to put two and two -together, I don't know what 'tis. I tell you the whole trouble grew out -of that notion that a boy must be sent away to school just because he -was a boy, and a girl must be kept at home just because she was a girl. -If the Almighty ever meant to have things go that way why didn't He give -the men the biggest brains, and put the strongest backs 'n' arms on the -women? Heaven knows they've needed 'em." - -A good memory was undoubtedly one of Ruel Saxon's strong points, but all -recollection of the gentle warning his daughter-in-law had given him was -put utterly to flight by this speech of his sister's. He stiffened -himself in his chair, and his nostrils dilated (to use a pet figure of -his own) "like a war-horse smelling the battle from afar." - -"Katharine," he said, "you darken counsel by words without knowledge. I -don't pretend, and nobody ever pretended, that Abigail Sickles or' to -have worked herself to death to keep Abner in college. Her folks or' to -have seen it in time, and stopped her. But you take too much upon -yourself when you want to change things round from the way the Lord made -'em. It's the _men_ that have got to be at the head of things in church -and state; it's the _men_ that have got to go out into the world and -earn the living for the women and children; and it's because they've -needed the education more, and had more call to use it, that the boys -have been sent to college instid of the girls. There's reason in all -things." - -She broke in upon him with a short, scornful laugh. "There's a terrible -good reason sometimes, Ruel, why the women have to earn the living for -themselves, 'n' the children too; and that's to keep themselves from -starving. Who earned the living for Nancy's children when she brought -'em all home to the old house forty years ago? Well, I guess she 'n' I -earned most of it." - -She lifted her shoulders with an effort, and added: "Shouldn't be quite -so near doubled together now if it hadn't been for bending over that -spinning-wheel day in 'n' day out, working to get food 'n' clothes for -those children, the six of 'em that John Proctor ran away 'n' left. You -talk about men going out in the world to earn the living. It would be a -good thing for the women to go into the world too, sometimes. Mebbe they -wouldn't be quite so helpless then when they're left to shift for -themselves." - -The old man winced. "You had an awful hard time, Katharine, you 'n' -Nancy. John Proctor didn't do his duty by his family," he said; and then -he faced her with a fresh impatience. "But that ain't the way the men -gener'ly do, is it? To hear you talk a body'd think the women had just -naturally got to plan for that sort of thing. You want 'em to go out -into the world, like the men, and make a business of it. I'd like to -know who'd take care of the home 'n' the children if they did. Home is -the place for women. The Apostle Paul--" - -There was a distinct flash of anger now in the small, bright eyes of -Miss Katharine Saxon. "Don't tell me what Paul said," she exclaimed. "I -tell you that notion o' his, that there was nothing a woman had a right -to do but marry, 'n' have children, 'n' tend the house, is at the bottom -of half the foolishness there is in the world to-day. Women have just as -good a right to pick 'n' choose what they shall do as the men have. And -some of 'em had a good deal better do something else than marry the men -that want 'em. I tell you Paul didn't know it all. 'Cording to his own -account he had to be struck by lightning before he could see some -things, and if another streak had come his way mebbe he'd caught sight -of a few more that were worth looking at." - -Ruel Saxon gazed at his sister for a minute speechless. Then he said -solemnly, "Katharine, there _is_ such a thing as blasphemy, and I'd be a -little careful if I was you how I talked about the Lord's dealings with -his saints." - -He glanced at his granddaughters as he said it, as if to suggest that -their morals, if not his own, might be impaired by such language. - -"Laws, Ruel," she said briskly, "I'd somehow got it into my head that -that thing happened to him on the way to Damascus, and I didn't know as -you or anybody else called Saul of Tarsus a saint." - -She had him at a moment's disadvantage, and the thin, high, mocking -laugh with which she ended put the finishing touch to his irritation. - -"As the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of a fool," -he said, with slow emphasis. - -It should be observed in passing that Deacon Saxon's use of the name -which he had just bestowed by implication on his sister was, like the -text itself, Solomonic. The person lacking, not in knowledge, but in -moral sense, was the one whom the wise man called a fool, and there were -moments when Katharine Saxon appeared to her brother to be so wanting in -this respect as to come fairly under the title. It was not the first -time that his frankness had led him to bestow it on her. - -"Hey?" she said, leaning forward suddenly, with her hand curled about -her ear. - -That she had not caught the words was by no means certain. It suited her -humor sometimes to offset his boastfulness as to his good hearing with a -certain parade of her own slight deafness, and the occasions for making -him repeat himself were often cunningly chosen. For once he did not do -it. Perhaps, a second time, he remembered the presence of his -granddaughters. - -As for the girls themselves, they caught their breath, in the silence -that followed, with something like a gasp. It is safe to say that they -had never been present before at such an interview between relatives. -Kate would not have minded a renewal of hostilities, but Esther, with -better grace, seized the chance to effect a truce by turning the -conversation into a more peaceful channel. - -"Aunt Katharine," she said eagerly, "you spoke of the spinning you used -to do. Have you the old wheel now? I've heard mother tell what a -wonderful spinner you were, and I should so like to see the very wheel -you used." - -The old woman took her hand from her ear and turned toward the girl. -"No," she said, "I hain't got the old wheel now; one of Nancy's girls -wanted it, and I let her carry it off. 'Twasn't any account; pretty near -as much wore out as I was when it stopped running." - -Evidently she felt that her passage-at-arms with her brother was ended. -The sharpness of her expression relaxed, and she rose from her place -with her ordinary manner. "I can show you a piece of linen your mother -wove, if you want to see it. She'd have made a good spinner herself if -she'd stuck to it, but I s'pose she forgot all about it long ago. Well, -there's plenty other ways for women to use their time nowadays, and I'm -glad of it." - -The rest of the call ran smoothly. Miss Saxon could be even gracious -when she was so disposed, and she treated her guests to a bottle of -raspberry vinegar, which, in spite of the fact that she had brewed it -herself, was not in the least too sharp, with fruit cake which time had -brought to the most perfect mellowness. Her nieces would have left her -house imagining that the "queerness," of which she had given such ample -proof, was confined to the one subject which she had discussed with her -brother, had it not been for a little episode at the very end of the -call, and for this, as it happened, the old gentleman was again -responsible. - -"How are you getting along with your garden, Katharine?" he asked. "I -was thinking mebbe I or' to send Tom down here to do a little weeding -for you." - -A peculiar smile gleamed suddenly in the eyes of his sister. "Thank ye, -Ruel, I've got all the help I need jest now," she said. "Come out 'n' -take a look at my garden." - -She led the way to the rear of the house, and stepped before them into -the trim little garden. It was of the old-fashioned sort, with -vegetables growing in thrifty rows, and bunches of such flowers as -phlox, sweet william, and bachelor's buttons standing at the corners of -the walks. It would have seemed a model of conventional primness, but -for a curious figure seated on a three-legged stool, puffing tobacco -smoke from a long Dutch pipe in among the branches of a rose-bush. - -He might have been upwards of sixty; a dapper little man with a shining -face, and a round head covered as to its top by an embroidered cap -adorned with a crimson tassel. His waistcoat was of gay old-fashioned -silk, across which was strung a huge gold chain, and a flaming topaz pin -adorned the front of his calico shirt. At sight of the company issuing -from the house he started from his seat and trotted up the walk to meet -them, his hand extended and his face expressive of the most beaming -cordiality. - -Ruel Saxon, who was following his sister with a meekness of deportment -which had sat uneasily upon him ever since the close of their -discussion, started as his eye fell on this person, and threw up his -head with a movement of surprise and irritation. "Good day, Solomon," he -said stiffly, as they came together, Miss Saxon having stepped aside to -give free course for the meeting. - -"Why, how d'y' do, Deacon, how d'y' do?" exclaimed the other, seizing -the old gentleman's hand, which, to tell the truth, had not been offered -him, and shaking it furiously. "It's been a terrible long time since you -and I met. I--I was thinkin' the other day I or' to come round and see -how you was gittin' along." - -The deacon did not look overjoyed at the mention of the intended honor. -"How long has Solomon been here?" he asked rather curtly, turning to his -sister. - -"Two weeks to-morrow," she replied, with equal curtness. Then, turning -to the little man, and from him to the girls, she said with marked -politeness, "Mr. Ridgeway, these are my nieces, Lucia Saxon's children. -I guess you remember her." - -The little man pulled the cap from his head, revealing a crown as bald -as a baby's, and bowed himself up and down with the fervor of an -Oriental. "Lucia Saxon? What, her that married the doctor and went out -West? Why, sartin, sartin. She was one of the nicest gals I ever see, -and the prettiest spoken. I--I guess your mother must 'av' told you about -me," he added eagerly. "I took her home from spellin' school once. She -had spelled down everybody but me; but I was older'n she was, you know, -a good deal older." The delight of the remembrance seemed to overcome -him, and he hopped first on one foot, then on the other, like an excited -child. - -Ruel Saxon's face worked curiously while this performance lasted. "I -don't see but what your garden truck is getting on all right," he said -in the dryest of tones, "and I guess the girls 'n' I'd better be going." - -He turned, making his way past the others, regardless of the fact that -his footprints were left in the onion-bed which bordered the walk, and -headed the line again toward the house. - -"I shall write to mother that we have seen you," said Esther, smiling -back at the little man, who still stood bowing with his cap in his -hands, and Kate gave him a friendly nod, though her mouth was twitching -with amusement. - -Aunt Katharine said good-by to them at the front door. "If you ever feel -like seeing the old woman again, come down," she said to the girls. -"'Tain't so very far across the fields, and you can follow the -cow-path." Then, without waiting to see them go, she closed the door. - -"Grandfather," Kate burst out when they were fairly off, "who in the -world is that man, and how does he come to be at Aunt Katharine's?" - -"That man," he repeated, deepening his tone with an accent of disgust, -"is a poor half-witted cretur that belongs at the poorhouse. He stays -there most of the time, but now 'n' then he gets a restless spell and -they let him out. Then he always comes round to your Aunt Katharine's, -and she takes him in." - -"Well, he's the queerest acting man I ever came across," said Kate, "and -how he was dressed out, with his fine flowered vest and his jewellery!" - -"'Jewellery!'" grunted her grandfather. "He didn't have on any compared -with what he has sometimes. Why, when he really dresses up, that cretur -covers himself all over with it." - -The girls looked so astonished that he apparently felt it incumbent on -him to attempt some explanation of the man. "The fact is," he said, -"Solomon Ridgeway is as crazy as a loon on one p'int. He thinks he's -rich, though for aught I know he's got as much sense about other things -as he ever had. He thinks he's terrible rich, and that the best way to -keep his property, as he calls it, is in gold and jewels. He's got a -trunkful of it--wo'thless stuff, of course--that he carries with him -everywhere. I s'pose it's stowed away somewhere at your Aunt Katharine's -now." - -Kate really seemed past speaking for a moment, and Esther exclaimed in a -tone of utter bewilderment, "Well, I should have thought Aunt Katharine -was the last person in the world who would want such a man at her house. -What makes her do it?" - -"The Lord only knows," said the old gentleman solemnly. And then he -jerked the reins and urged Dobbin on his way in a tone of uncommon -asperity. - -The fact was, the question had a special irritation for him. That his -sister, who flouted wise men and scorned the opinions of those having -authority, should bear with the vagaries of a being like Solomon -Ridgeway was a thing that passed his understanding. With the man himself -he _might_ have had some patience, though his form of mania was -peculiarly exasperating to his own hard common sense, and somehow he -could not help resenting it that "Solomon," of all names, should have -lighted on so foolish a creature; but that, such as he was, he should be -the object of Katharine Saxon's pointed and continuous favor was trying -beyond measure to her brother. He lapsed into a silence quite unusual -with him, and the girls did not disturb it again on the way home. - -They were longing to talk the visit over with Stella, but she was away -when they reached the house, and Aunt Elsie asked no questions beyond an -inquiry for Aunt Katharine's health. It was at supper that the subject -found its way into the family talk, and then Stella, who had just come -in, opened it. - -"Well, I hope you enjoyed your call on Aunt Katharine," she said, -smiling at her cousins. - -"Of course we did," said Kate, promptly. "You didn't begin to tell us -how interesting she is." - -"Oh, but you should have been there on a day when she and grandfather -discussed things," said Stella. "That's the time when she really shows -her quality." She sent a demure glance at the old gentleman as she -spoke. How she had become possessed of his intention to refrain from -controversy is not certain, but somehow she had it. - -He glanced with obvious embarrassment at his granddaughters. Then he set -down his cup of tea, and faced his daughter-in-law. "Elsie," he said, in -a tone whose humility was really touching, "I meant to stand by what I -said to you. I certainly did; but I couldn't do it." He cleared his -throat and his tone grew firmer. "I couldn't do it, and I don't know as -I shall be held responsible for it, either. The Bible says, 'As much as -lieth in you, live peaceably with all men,'--and I s'pose that means -women too,--but it don't lie in me, and it never will, to keep my mouth -shut while folks are advancing such notions as Katharine did this -afternoon. I did contend with her; I certainly did." - -The Northmore girls could not keep straight faces, and Stella broke into -a delighted giggle. "I'm sure 'twas your duty, grandpa, and I'm glad you -did it," she said. "What was it this time; woman's rights, or the folly -of getting married, or what?" - -She glanced at her cousins as she asked the question, and Esther spoke -first. "It was education partly, and the question whether women ought -not to be as free as men to choose what they shall do. I must say that -for my part I thought Aunt Katharine made some real good points, though -of course she needn't have been quite so bitter." - -"It was my speaking about Abner Sickles that stirred her up to begin -with," said the old gentleman, still addressing himself in -half-apologetic tone to Aunt Elsie. "That put her in mind of his sister -Abigail, and how she worked herself to death helping him through -college." - -"I shouldn't wonder if helping Abner was the greatest comfort the poor -girl had," observed Aunt Elsie. - -The unemphatic way in which she sometimes made important suggestions was -one of Aunt Elsie's peculiarities. No one spoke for a minute, and she -turned the conversation away from Aunt Katharine by suddenly asking a -question on a wholly different subject. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -AUNT KATHARINE--CONTINUED - - -After supper that evening, as Ruel Saxon sat in his room in the -twilight, Esther came softly in and sat down beside him. - -"Grandfather," she said, "what made Aunt Katharine so bitter against the -men?" - -She had been turning the question wonderingly in her thoughts ever since -the interview of the afternoon. There was something in the lonely old -woman, crabbed of manner and sharp of tongue as she was, which had -appealed to her strongly. That she was a unique personality, unlike any -one she had seen before, was no doubt a part of it, for Esther loved the -striking and picturesque; but there was more than this. She, too, had -felt some touch of revolt against the limitations with which custom had -hedged the ordinary life of woman, and Aunt Katharine's fierce, uncaring -challenge of it all had not been wholly unpleasing to her. - -"What made Katharine so bitter against the men?" repeated her -grandfather. He had started at the question, as one does sometimes when -called upon suddenly to account for a familiar fact which everyday -acquaintance has robbed of all its wonder. "Well, that's a long story, -and I don't s'pose anybody but Katharine herself could tell the whole of -it; but there were some things all of us knew, and she did have her -grievances--there's no doubt but what she had her grievances." - -He jerked off his spectacles, through which he had been trying to read a -chapter of Proverbs, settled himself in his chair, dropped his chin in -his hand, and began:-- - -"It started just about the time that Nancy came home with her children; -Nancy was our sister, you know. There were three of us: Nancy and -Katharine and me. Katharine was the youngest, and she was going to be -married that spring to Levi Dodge. He was a likely young fellow, as -everybody thought, and they'd been keeping company for upward of a year. -But when Nancy came home it changed everything. There were those six -children to be done for, and Nancy herself all wore out with work 'n' -worry, and your grandmother--for I was married then, you know--had her -hands more 'n full with the housework and her own children, and it -looked to Katharine as if she'd or' to put off getting married a while -and help things along here at home." - -"We didn't ask her to, and we didn't so much as know she was thinking of -it, till she'd got her mind all made up; but I tell you we were awful -glad, and I never shall forget how Nancy and your grandmother cried and -hugged her, when she told 'em what she was going to do, right here in -this room where you 'n' I be to-night." - -He paused, and it seemed to Esther as if the shadows in the dusky room -took momentary shape of those three women, young, loving, and in trouble -together, who had met there so long ago. Perhaps the old man felt their -presence too, for there was a peculiar softness in his voice as he went -on:-- - -"We wouldn't 'a' let her do it, if we'd known how things were coming -out, but you see we thought Nancy'd be in a home of her own again inside -a year, and then the way'd be open for Katharine 'n' Levi, and of course -we thought he'd be reasonable about it. But bless your heart, when she -came to talk it over with him he wouldn't give in an inch. He said she'd -giv' her promise to him, and she couldn't go back on it; he had more -claim on her than John Proctor's family had. Well, of course, I don't -know what passed between 'em,--Katharine never talked it over much,--but -she was always high strung, and I guess she gave it to him pretty -straight that if he couldn't wait for her a little while under such -circumstances he needn't count on having her at all. Anyhow, the upshot -of it was he went away mad, and we were dreadful sorry, but we thought -he'd get over it in a day or two. He didn't, though. In less 'n a week -he was courting Sally Fry, and they two were married on the very day -that was set for Katharine's wedding." - -"How perfectly abominable!" burst out Esther. "I don't wonder she -despises the men if that's the way she was treated." - -"She needn't despise 'em all, need she?" said her grandfather, sharply. -"There _have_ been men that could wait as long as any woman. There was -Jacob, for instance. He waited seven years for Rachel, working for a -hard man all the time, and the Bible says they seemed like only a few -days to him for the love he bore her. And then he worked for her seven -years more." - -Esther was silent. There was no answer to this case of Jacob, dear old -Jacob, a prince indeed, with all his meanness, since he could love like -that! - -"Do you suppose Aunt Katharine really cared for that man?" she asked -after a moment. - -"I guess most likely she did," said her grandfather, nodding his head -slowly. "She wasn't the kind to say she'd marry a man unless she loved -him. But she never made a sound after he left her. She held her head -higher than ever, and the way she worked! You'd have thought she had the -strength of ten women in her." - -He drew his hand reflectively across his chin for a moment, then added: -"But somehow I never thought 'twas that affair with Levi that soured -your Aunt Katharine as much as it was the way John Proctor acted. It was -strange about Proctor. You see, in those days they could put a man in -prison for debt, and he had got in debt--not so very deep, only a matter -of three or four hundred dollars; but the man he owed it to was -threatening to have the law of him if he didn't pay, and there warn't -any way John could turn to get that money. There was nothing he could do -but get out of the country, and I'm free to confess now that I helped -him go. - -"You see, we thought if he could once get into Canada, and work at his -trade--he was a first-rate carpenter--he could pay off that money in a -little while, and I agreed to do what I could for his family while he -was gone. We went over everything together, and he talked as fair as a -man could, and then I drove with him one day 'n' night, and the -relatives up New Hampshire way gave him a lift when he got there, and -between us all he was over the border before folks round here knew he -was gone. I thought then that I was doing my duty, for it was an unjust -law, and they did away with it pretty soon after that; but looking back -_now_, and seeing how things turned out, I sometimes wish I'd let John -Proctor stay here, and take what came of it." - -"Why, didn't he pay that money, after all?" asked Esther, as her -grandfather paused. - -"Pay it!" he repeated. "Not a cent of it; and what's more we never saw -hide or hair of him in this country again. For a while he wrote to his -wife, and now 'n' then sent her some money, but it got longer between -times, and by'm by the letters stopped for good, though we heard of him -now 'n' then, and knew he was alive and earning a good living. I never -could figure it out why he acted that way, for Nancy was a good wife, -and up to the time he went away John seemed to think as much of his -family as other men. There was such a thing in Bible times as folks -being possessed with the devil," he added solemnly, "and I have my -suspicions that that was what ailed John Proctor." - -He paused when he had made this not wholly unkind suggestion, then went -on: "It was terrible hard for all of us, but somehow it seemed as if it -worked on Katharine more 'n anybody else. She hated the very name of -John Proctor, but she took up the cudgels for his wife 'n' children, and -I always thought 'twas slaving for them, and seeing all they went -through with, that set her so against the men. Mebbe she might have got -over it some, when the children grew older, and times eased up a little, -but then came that trouble to Ruth, the oldest of Nancy's girls, and the -one Katharine thought the most of. - -"We thought Ruth had made a good match, though the man was consider'ble -older 'n she was,--her mother hurried it on a little herself, for of -course she was anxious to get the girls into homes of their own,--but he -never was good to her after they were married. He broke her down with -hard work, and holding her in, and the poor little thing only lived a -year or two. After that if anybody said marriage to Katharine it was -like tinder in dry leaves. She took to studying about woman's rights and -all that, till she got to be as--well, as you saw her this afternoon." - -"Poor Aunt Katharine!" said Esther, softly. That she had suffered wrong -might surely bespeak in a generous mind some excuse for her bitterness, -but that, after all, it was not her own wrongs, but those of others -which had burned that bitterness into her soul, made it seem even noble -to the girl who had heard her story. - -"Yes, it was too bad. I've always been sorry for Katharine," said the -old gentleman, and then he added, with an asperity he could not quite -repress: "but the trouble is she got into the way of looking all the -time at the worst side of things, and by'm by it 'peared to her as if -that side reached all the way round. She talks about folks having sense -enough to put two 'n' two together, but I notice she always picks out -the partic'ler two she wants when _she_ adds things up." - -A light step crossed the threshold at that moment, and Stella Saxon's -graceful figure appeared behind her grandfather's chair. "Haven't you -had enough of Aunt Katharine for one day, Esther?" she demanded. "Leave -grandfather to think up some new arguments for the next time he goes to -see her, and come with me. I want you to see what a picture it is from -the back of our old barn when the shadows creep over the hills." - -She lighted the lamp that stood by the open Bible, then slipped her arm -through her cousin's and drew her away. "Thank you for telling me all -this," said Esther, lingering a moment by her grandfather's chair. "I -love to hear stories of what happened here so long ago." - -"There are plenty of 'em, and they'll keep," he replied, smiling; and -then he returned to the Proverbs again with unabated enjoyment. - -"Do you know," said Esther, as the two walked away, "I believe I should -really love Aunt Katharine if I knew her." - -Stella gave one of her shrugs. "There's no accounting for tastes," she -said. Then, as she glanced in at the barn door, which they were passing -at that moment, she added with a laugh: "I declare, if Kate hasn't -managed to make her way with my brother Tom! They're hobnobbing together -like two old cronies." - -The truth was Kate Northmore had made up her mind to get acquainted with -her cousin. Whether it was the barn or the boy that had brought her out -this evening is not certain. She had a liking for a good quality of -each. This particular barn was of a larger sort than she was used to, -and the boy--she half suspected that he was smaller. There was something -wrong about a boy who would go whistling off across the fields when his -chores were done without saying "boo" to a girl who was looking after -and longing to go with him. However, he might be only timid. - -She had no thought of winning a place in his regard by the thing she did -when she stepped into the barn to-night, but by chance she had done it. -She had seen Dobbin standing in his stall with his harness on, as he had -been put there an hour before. There was a rush of work now, for the -cows were in the barn, and Tom and the hired man were seated at the -milking. She had taken in the situation; then, with a word to Dobbin and -a good-natured slap on his flank, stepped in beside him and removed his -unnecessary burden. - -It was a foolish thing to do, for she had on her pretty lawn, sash and -all, but the fact that she had not minded her clothes, together with the -surprising fact that she could do the deed at all, had impressed Tom -deeply. - -"Well," he said, "you're the first girl I ever saw who could do that." - -"That!" repeated Kate, "why, I've helped about horses ever since I was -big enough to reach up. Father's a doctor, you know, and the horses have -to be got out in a hurry sometimes. I can harness and unharness about as -quick as any man he ever had on the place. I'm strong in my arms." She -made a quick, free movement of her arms, from which the sleeves fell -back, showing the firm round muscles, then added lightly: "I like -everything about horses, specially driving. Dobbin's too fat to be any -good. What makes you feed him so much?" - -"You'd better ask grandfather that question," said Tom. "He never comes -into the barn without piling his manger full of hay. He thinks the rest -of us abuse him." - -They exchanged a good-natured laugh. Then Kate said: "I should think you -would want more than one horse on this place. I don't see how you can -stand it to work behind oxen; they're so slow." - -Tom's countenance grew a trifle rigid. "We like them well enough," he -said stiffly. - -"Oh, but you wouldn't," protested Kate, "if you'd ever worked with -horses. Out our way they do all the work with them, and you'll hardly -see a farmer driving into town with a one-horse team." - -Tom would have scorned to appear at all impressed. "I shouldn't care for -such a lot of horses," he said. "I like cows. There's more profit in -them." - -"Well, when it comes to cows you can make a bigger showing than we can," -said Kate, "but that's because you raise milk and we raise crops." And -then she added in a tone of candor, "I reckon that makes the difference -in the way the work is done. You don't have big fields to plough and -reap, and you can afford to spend time crawling round behind oxen when -we can't." - -Tom did not offer any reply to this interesting theory. "What makes you -say 'reckon' so much?" he asked abruptly. - -Kate's eyes widened. "It's as good as 'guess,' isn't it?" she retorted. -"I'd as lief reckon as guess any time." - -Tom poured his pail of milk into the big strainer and turned to go. -"I've got another cow to milk before I'm through," he said. - -"I can milk, too," said Kate, "though I don't care much about it. Aunt -Milly taught me." And then she added, with a glance down the line of -stalls: "But if I were going to do it I shouldn't want the cows cooped -up this way. I should want them out in the barn lot." - -"What, loose in the yard?" repeated Tom. He positively had to stop now. -"And have them walking round all the time you're trying to milk them? -Well, I should think that would be a pretty business!" - -"Our cow doesn't walk round when we're milking her," said Kate. "Why, a -cow naturally wants to be milked when the time comes, and it's a great -deal pleasanter being outdoors. We don't care so very much about the -milking-stool, either," she added, laughing. "I _could_ do it on a pinch -without any." - -"What, squat on your feet, and the cow not even tied up!" ejaculated -Tom. The accomplishments of his cousin Kate were certainly out of the -ordinary. He looked at her with a growing curiosity, then added loftily: -"In this part of the country women don't milk. We don't think it's their -business." - -"Well, I'm glad you don't," said Kate; "but 'tisn't such a queer thing -for women to do as you seem to think. In most countries women generally -do it." - -"I never heard of a woman milking before," said Tom, doggedly. - -Kate's eyes grew big again. "Why, in stories they always do it," she -cried. - -Tom looked impervious to any memory of the sort, and she added, with -insistence: "You must have heard of the woman who counted her chickens -before they were hatched. She had a pail of milk on her head at the very -time, you know; and in the 'House that Jack Built' it was the 'maiden -all forlorn who milked the cow with the crumpled horn.' The man hadn't a -thing to do with it except bothering her." - -Certainly Tom could not deny acquaintance with those classics. "I never -took much stock in Mother Goose," he said, starting on with his pail -again. - -"But you've _heard_ of them," Kate cried triumphantly. He did not look -back this time, but he was evidently meditating. As for Kate, she felt -that the acquaintance had begun in an auspicious manner, and perched on -the side of the cutting machine to wait for his return. - -They were together preparing some cut-feed for Dobbin's evening meal -when the girls looked in at the door, and the talk was evidently flowing -with the greatest ease. - -"This is just like a cutting machine we used to have at home, and I have -special reason to remember it," Kate was saying as she turned the wheel, -"for I nearly lost the end of my thumb in it when I was a little tot. -Father was at home, as good luck would have it, and he fixed it up so -quick that no great harm came of it." She held up a pink thumb for Tom's -inspection, and added, "You wouldn't know it now by anything except the -nail being a little thicker than common at one corner, and that's really -been an advantage to me, for I can open a jack-knife without asking a -boy to do it for me." - -Tom gave a grunt of approval. "And sharpen the pencil too?" he asked. -Then, suddenly: "Are there many boys out your way? There are more girls -here." - -"Oh, there are lots of boys," said Kate, and then she added: "but the -nicest one of all has gone to college, and we don't see much of him -nowadays. Are you going to college?" - -He stirred the cut-feed for a minute without speaking, then shook his -head. "Stella wants me to go," he said, "and grandfather used to talk -about it, too, but he's sort of given it up lately. I guess he thinks -I'm not scholar enough; and I'm not," he added frankly. "I don't take to -studying. I'd rather work with things that are outside of my own head." - -Kate dropped the handle of the cutting machine. "Tom," she exclaimed, in -a tone of heartfelt sympathy, "that's just the way I feel, too. I never -did like school as Esther and Mort and some of the others do. I don't -want to be a stupid, of course--you have to know things or you're no -account; but for my part, I'd never get them out of books if I could get -them any other way. I like people and affairs better." - -There is nothing like downright honesty to prepare the way for -friendship. They had made a frank disclosure of feeling on an important -subject, and Kate and Tom were comrades from that moment; comrades, in -spite of the fact that certain other points of view were by no means -held in common, and that each contended strenuously for his own. They -talked for a long time of cousinly affairs. With his mother's quiet way -of looking at things, Tom had a considerable spice of his grandfather's -shrewdness, and Kate found his opinions on various matters interesting. - -"Aunt Katharine must be a strange woman," she said, when they had -touched on a variety of other subjects. "Do they always fight, she and -grandfather, as they did to-day?" - -"Always," said Tom, promptly. "It's nip and tuck every time they come -together. You'd think sometimes they fairly hated each other. But if one -of them gets sick you ought to see how the other frets. Grandfather gets -into a regular stew sometimes over her living off there by herself; but -it's a good thing she does. We couldn't stand it if she lived here." - -"What supports her?" asked Kate, with her quick instinct for practical -details. - -"Supports her?" repeated Tom; "why, Aunt Katharine's rich. Didn't you -know that? She had some property left to her years ago,--it was city -land, I believe,--and it rose in value so it made a fortune. I heard -grandfather say once that she must have as much as forty thousand -dollars of her own." The sum seemed unlimited wealth to the country boy. -"Nobody knows what she'll do with it," he added; "she'll want to fix it -so the men can't get it. She says she'd leave it to one of her female -relatives if she could find one who'd promise never to marry." - -"She'd better propose that to Stella," said Kate; "she's so fond of her -art." - -Tom whistled. "She isn't so fond of it but she'd leave it quick enough -if the right one asked her," he said astutely. - -And then they rose and walked together toward the house. Aunt Elsie, in -the kitchen door, was calling, with an anxious note in her voice: -"Girls, girls, why don't you come in? You're staying out in the dew too -long." - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -HUCKLEBERRYING - - -It seemed as if a summer of ordinary time was compressed into that first -fortnight at the old homestead. Esther wondered sometimes whether the -surrounding hills, over whose tops the morning broke earlier, and in -whose soft green hollows the twilights seemed to linger longer than any -she had known before, had not something to do with the lifting of the -days into the lengthened space of life and happiness. The charm of the -New England landscape, its restful yet enticing beauty, its reserves, -its revelations, had captured her fancy and her heart completely. Her -letters were full of the new delight. Mrs. Northmore smiled as she read -them, and felt that in Esther she was living over again the joys of her -own girlhood. - -As for Kate, she was feeling the new environment as keenly as her -sister, but there was a difference in the letters. They were not -rhapsodical, and they were sprinkled with questions, such, for instance, -as, "_Don't_ we speak as correctly in the West as they do in New -England?" "_Isn't_ it absurd to drop the _r_ clear out of words, and -_do_ we over-do it?" - -Between herself and Tom Saxon there was continual sharpshooting as to -the relative merits of their respective sections, but it did not -diminish in the least their relish for each other's company. She rode -with him in the mornings to the milk factory, and occasionally took down -the load of cans in his stead. She went with him for the cows, and was -regularly depended on as the person to take the luncheon to the hayfield -in the middle of the forenoon. Sometimes she stopped and ate a doughnut -with the workmen under the trees, but she had not yet developed a -fondness for the peculiar beverage compounded of water, molasses, and -vinegar, vaguely called "drink," which seemed the approved liquid in -this region for quenching the thirst of haymakers. - -Indeed, the daily round furnished to each of the girls so much of -enjoyment that they could easily have spared the more formal pleasures, -but Aunt Elsie had definite ideas as to the courtesies due between -families, and Stella's prestige in the community gained ready attention -for her cousins. There were calls in plenty to be received and returned, -and for picnics and teas there were early invitations. - -Esterly was counted one of the most social of New England towns, and its -summer population included city boarders who had a mind for pleasure. -They fell in with whatever was planned for them, Kate and Esther, with -ready enjoyment, yet for them both the distinctive engagements of the -old home and the old farm remained easily the best. One of them, -suggested by Aunt Elsie one day at table, brought a thrill of peculiar -pleasure. - -"I do wish," she said, with a glance at the young people which included -them all, "that we could get some huckleberries. They say they're ripe -on Gray's Hill, and I do need something to make pies of." - -Stella gave a little sigh. It was the first invitation of the season to -an occupation which she detested; but Esther exclaimed: "Go -huckleberrying! Oh, I should like that so much! I've heard mother talk -about huckleberrying, and I want to see what it's like." - -"So do I," said Kate, eagerly. "Why can't we go this afternoon?" - -Stella gave another sigh, this time a deeper one. "Oh, what -accommodating creatures you are!" she said. "I ought to want to go with -you, of course, but to tell the honest truth I don't hanker for it, and -I'm positively opposed to climbing Gray's Hill unless we know for -certain that those berries are ripe." - -"I saw some there yesterday, over on the south side," said Tom. - -"Then maybe you'd better go too," said his mother, persuasively. "You -could show the girls right where they are." - -Tom may have regretted that he had aired his knowledge, but there was no -escape for him now, especially as his grandfather added briskly, "Yes, -Tom, you can go as well as not, for we shan't get in the hay that's down -this afternoon, it's so cloudy." - -And so it happened that an hour later the four, well supplied with tin -pails, were off in search of huckleberries. Across the fields odorous of -new-mown hay, by the foot-bridge over the meadow brook, across the old -county road and over the low stone wall, they made their pleasant -pilgrimage. Tom and Kate were ahead, she keeping steady pace with his -easy swing, lowlander though she was, and not to the manner born of such -climbing as this. Once, in a dimple of the hill, she made a dash -forward, and, swinging her pail above her head, shouted: "I've found the -first! Here they are!" - -But Tom, who was up with her in a moment, gave a whoop of disdain as he -scanned the low cluster of bushes. "Those! why, those are blueberries. -Don't you know the difference?" - -Kate confessed with some humility that she did not, but the humility -vanished when he added loftily: "And just as like as not you never will. -There were some Westerners boarding over at Lester's one summer, and -those folks couldn't tell one from t'other clear up to the end of the -season." - -"Well," said Kate, with a toss of her head, "maybe we can't tell -huckleberries from blueberries, but we can always tell hickory nuts from -walnuts, which is more than you folks here can do, and there's a sight -more difference between them than there is between _these_ little -things." - -She broke a blueberry bush, and looked at it with an attention which -promised that she, at least, would know the species when she met it -again, then started on with the remark, "Well, whichever of them I get, -I mean to fill my bucket with something before I leave this hill." - -"There you go again," grumbled Tom, who had been rather set back by the -taunt about the nuts. "You always call a pail a bucket." - -"Well, it _is_ a bucket," cried Kate, beating a tattoo on the bottom of -hers with spirit. "You couldn't prove that I was wrong when you went to -the dictionary about it, and anyway it isn't half as funny to call a -pail a bucket as to call a frying-pan a 'spider' and a stool a -'cricket.'" - -"I suppose you children are quarrelling about something as usual," -observed Stella, who with Esther had just caught up with the advance -guard. "I wonder how you can keep it up so steadily. I should think -you'd sometimes get tired." - -"I'll tell you one thing, sis," said Tom, with brotherly responsiveness, -"you'll have to keep at the picking a little steadier than you generally -do, or it won't make anybody tired to carry home the berries you'll get. -This is the way she does," he added, turning to his cousins; "she goes -fidgeting round, looking for the place where they're thickest, and when -she finds it she settles down and draws a picture of a tree, or a rock, -or something. I'll bet she's got her drawing things with her now." - -Stella did not deny the charge. "What irrelevant remarks you do contrive -to make, Tom!" she said. "Come, go ahead, if you mean to show us where -those berries are." - -They found them, and were all busily picking in a few minutes more. -However Stella's interest in huckleberries might flag later on there was -no criticism to be made on her attention at first, and her fingers flew -over the bushes at a rate which augured well for the filling of her -pail. As for the Northmore girls, they were in ecstasies. Kate settled -down to the business at once, though for a while she ate most of the -berries she picked, while Esther paused between the handfuls to take -long whiffs of the sweet fern which grew everywhere among the bushes, -and to fill her eyes with the landscape which looked fairer than ever -from the side of this green old hill. - -Everything was interesting--the sights, the smells, the blossoms which -were all around them; even the sprig of lobelia which Tom presented for -his cousins' tasting, having first cunningly prepared the way with -spearmint and pennyroyal--how Kate wished she could return the favor with -a green persimmon!--and the slender yellow worm, industriously measuring -the bushes, had its own claim to attention. Its name and manner of -travel reminded Kate of one of Aunt Milly's songs with an admonishing -refrain of, "Keep an inching along, Keep an inching along," and she -trolled it out with a rollicking plantation accent that charmed her -audience. - -Perhaps it was the singing which drew a traveller who was climbing up -the hill in their direction. In a pause of the verses Tom suddenly -exclaimed: "Upon my word, there's Solomon Ridgeway. He's got his pack on -his back, too. Let's have some fun." - -It was indeed the queer protégé of Aunt Katharine who appeared at that -moment, bowing and smiling as he emerged from behind a rock. Evidently -Tom did not share his grandfather's extreme dislike for the man's -society, for he advanced to meet him in the most friendly manner. - -"Well, Solomon," he exclaimed, "so you thought you'd come -huckleberrying, too! Do you expect to fill that box of yours this -afternoon?" - -The face of the little old man, which was fairly twinkling with -pleasure, expressed an eager dissent. "Oh, no, I--I didn't come -huckleberryin'," he said, "and I couldn't think of puttin' 'em in this -box. Why this box--" he lowered his voice with a delighted chuckle--"has -got some of my jewels in it You see, I'm goin' over to see little Mary -Berger. They say she's got the mumps, and I kind o' thought 'twould -brighten her up to see 'em. It don't hurt the children--bless their -hearts--to see fine things; it does 'em good. And I always tell 'em," he -added earnestly, "that there _air_ things better 'n pearls and rubies. -Tain't everybody that the Lord gives riches to, and if they're good -they'll be happy without 'em." - -"Why, that's quite a moral, Solomon," said Tom. "You ought to have been -a preacher." He sent a roguish glance at the girls, then, throwing an -accent of solicitude into his voice, added: "But aren't you afraid you -might get robbed going through those woods? There's quite a strip of -them before you get to Berger's." - -The owner of the jewels sent an apprehensive glance into the woods which -skirted the brow of the hill and answered bravely: "Yes, I be, Thomas. I -be a little afeared of it. I--I won't go so far as to say I ain't. But I -don't b'lieve a body or' to stan' back on that account when there's -somethin' they feel as if they or' to be doin', and I've always been -took care of before--I've always been took care of." - -The manliness of this ought to have shamed Tom out of his waggishness, -but he was not done with it yet. "Solomon," he said, with the utmost -gravity,--"I should think you'd want to get your property into something -besides jewellery. Then you wouldn't run such risks. Besides, if you had -it in the bank, you know, it would be growing bigger all the time." - -The little man's face wore a look of distress, and he put his hand on -his box protectingly. "They tell me that sometimes," he said in a -plaintive tone, "but I--I couldn't think of it. It wouldn't be half as -much comfort to me as 'tis this way. Besides, I'm rich enough now, and -when a body's got enough, it's enough, ain't it? And why can't you -settle down and take the good of it?" - -"I think you're quite right, Mr. Ridgeway," said Stella. "It's perfectly -vulgar for people to go straining and scrambling after more money when -they have as much as they can enjoy already. The world would be a good -deal pleasanter place than it is if more people felt as you do about -that." - -She punctuated this with reproving glances at Tom, to which, however, he -paid not the smallest attention. - -"But you know, Solomon," he said artfully, "if you only had your money -where you could draw on it, you wouldn't have to work as you do now. -They keep you trotting pretty lively at the farm, don't they? And I'll -warrant Aunt Katharine finds you chores enough when you're at her -house." - -The little man's face was clear again. Here, at least, was a point on -which he had no misgiving. "Law, Thomas," he said, "I--I like to keep -busy. Why, there ain't a bit o' sense in a body bein' all puffed up and -thinkin' he's too good to work like other folks jest 'cause he's rich. -'Tain't your own doings, being rich, leastways not all of it. It's -partly the way things happen, and then it's the disposition you've got. -That's the way I look at it. And it always 'peared to me," he added, -with the most touching simplicity, "that, when a body's rich as I be, he -or' to do a leetle more 'n common folks to sort o' try 'n' pay up for -it." - -"Mr. Ridgeway," exclaimed Stella--it was impossible after this to let -that graceless brother say another word--"would you mind showing us some -of your pretty things right now? My cousins never saw them, and I'm sure -they'd enjoy it ever so much." - -The countenance of Solomon Ridgeway was aflame with pleasure. He lowered -his box from his shoulders and unstrapped it with a childish eagerness. -"Why, I--I'd be proud to, Miss Stella," he said, with a hurrying rapture. -Then, looking about for a suitable place of exhibition, he added, "Jest -come under that big chestnut tree over there, and I'll spread 'em all -out so you can see 'em." - -It was not huckleberrying, but something much more unique, which engaged -them for the next half hour. The collection which Solomon Ridgeway drew -from his box and spread before their dazzled eyes was a marvel of tinsel -and glitter. There were brooches and rings and chains enough to have -made the fortune of half a dozen pedlers; trumpery stuff, most of it, -but what of that? - -The owner was not one to let a carping world settle for him the value of -his treasure. There was paste that gleamed like diamonds in settings -burnished like the finest gold, and there were the colors of topaz and -emerald and sapphire and ruby. Who cared whether they flashed in bits of -glass or in stones drawn from the mines? They were things of beauty for -a' that, and they filled their owner's soul with joy. He had gathered -them slowly through the savings of earlier years, and the gifts of -friends; he loved them every one, and believed them to be of fabulous -value. - -"They ain't all I've got, you know. There's a lot more," he said -repeatedly; and then he rubbed his hands together and smiled upon his -audience with the air of a Croesus demanding, "Do you know any one richer -than I?" - -It was impossible not to wish to give him pleasure, and more than once -the girls exclaimed over the beauty of some trinket. Esther was -especially warm in her admiration, and there was no insincerity in her -words when she said: "I think you have some perfectly lovely things, Mr. -Ridgeway. I don't wonder you prize them, and I'm sure that little girl -who is sick will thank you all her life for letting her see them." - -He had almost forgotten his friend on the other side of the hill. He -gathered up his treasures now with a sudden remembrance, lifted his box -to his shoulders again and was off, turning back again and again to make -his little bow, half of pomposity and half of humility, as he hurried -away. - -"Is he crazy, or isn't he?" exclaimed Kate, when he was fairly out of -hearing. - -"He's queer. That's all you can say," said Stella; "but for my part, I -don't mind him. People are so much of a pattern here in America that I -think it's rather nice to have one of a different sort mixed in now and -then." - -"I don't see how he can keep up his notion of being rich and live in a -poorhouse," said Kate. - -"Don Quixote thought all the inns were castles," said Stella. "I don't -know why a person with an imagination like his shouldn't take a -poorhouse for a first-class hotel." - -Her interest in huckleberrying was gone now, and the mood Tom had -foretold was upon her. Esther divined it as she saw her looking at the -chestnut tree, with her head tipped to one side. - -"Oh, do sketch it, dear," she whispered. "Did you really bring drawing -materials with you?" - -Stella laughed, and drew a pencil and small pad from the bag that hung -at her belt. - -"Fill my pail for me, and you shall have it for a souvenir," she said. - -The sketch was a pretty thing, and the pails, though not all full, -contained a goodly quantity of berries, when they descended the hill in -the late afternoon. As they reached the bottom a sudden thought came to -Esther. "Do you suppose your mother would care if I should take my -berries round to Aunt Katharine?" she asked. - -"My mother would be ready to give you a special reward for thinking of -it," said Stella. "But do you really feel like going round by Aunt -Katharine's? It's ever so far out of our way!" - -"Oh, I don't care for that," said Esther, and she added quickly: "but -please don't feel that you must go too. I know the way." - -Perhaps she was not really anxious that Stella should accompany her, nor -sorry that Kate was already far ahead with Tom, when she turned down the -old road a few minutes later with her face toward Aunt Katharine's. "I -shall only stay a little while," she called back. "You won't be home -very long before me." - -But she was wrong as to this. Supper was over and the sunset fading when -she appeared at her grandfather's. - -"She insisted on my staying, though I had no thought of her asking me," -she explained to Aunt Elsie. "She was delighted with the huckleberries." - -Sitting in the south doorway afterward with Stella, she said very -earnestly: "You never saw anybody pleasanter than Aunt Katharine was all -the time I was there. I'm sure she's a great deal kinder than you think -she is. Do you know we got talking of Solomon Ridgeway, and she told me -some real interesting things about him. She says he was married when he -was young, but his wife only lived a few months. Evidently Aunt -Katharine didn't think much of her, for she said she was a silly little -thing, who cared more about finery than anything else. But he was all -bound up in her, and when she died it almost killed him. He had a -terrible sickness, and when he got over it his mind had this queer kink -in it, and never came right afterward." She paused a moment, then added, -"Somehow I couldn't help thinking that there might be a clew in that -story to the reason why she is so good to him." - -"She's just as queer in her way as he is in his. I guess it's an -affinity of queerness," said Stella, carelessly. And then she called her -cousin's attention to the color of the clouds, which were fading in airy -fringes over Gray's Hill. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -A PAIR OF CALLS - - -Among the honors which came to Ruel Saxon with advancing years there was -probably none which he valued more than his position, well recognized in -the community, as keeper of the best fund of stories of the olden time, -and referee-in-chief on all debated points of local history. There were -plenty of old people in Esterly, some even who had reached the -patriarchal age in which he himself so gloried, but there was no other -with a memory like his, none with so unique a gift for setting out the -past event in warmth and color. The gift was his own, but the memory was -in part at least that of some who had gone before. - -It had been the old man's fortune in his youth to be the constant -companion of a grandfather who, like himself, was a local authority; a -deaf man, who relied much on the boy's clear voice and quick attention -for intercourse with his fellows. Perhaps the service had been irksome -sometimes to the boy, but it had its reward for him now; for his -grandfather's experiences and his own blended in his thought as one -continuous whole, and covered a space of time no other memory in the -town could match. - -The time was not yet when every rural village of New England had its -historical society, but the recovery of the past was becoming a fad in -the cities, and families who valued themselves on their standing were -waking up to the importance of making sure of their ancestors. A letter -from some gatherer of ancient facts, making requisition on Ruel Saxon's -knowledge, was not uncommon now, and more than once a caller had stopped -at the farmhouse hoping to gain help from him in tracing some obscure -branch of a family tree. - -The person bent on such an errand was so commonly of serious and elderly -aspect that the extremely stylish young man who rode into the yard one -afternoon was not suspected by the girls, who saw him from the parlor, -of belonging to this class. Kate, who was nearest the window, was quite -excited by the appearance of a gentleman on horseback. She had not seen -one before since she left home, and the horse itself was as interesting -as the rider. - -"I'll wager anything that's a blooded Kentucky," she said, craning her -neck for a fuller view. "My, but isn't she a beauty? I'll have a good -look at her if his highness gets down. Wouldn't I like to call out, -'Light, and come in, stranger!'" she added under her breath. "Stella, -who is he? He must be some admirer of yours." - -"Never saw him before," said Stella, who was eying him with as much -curiosity as Kate. "I'll tell you what, he must be a connoisseur in art -and has heard of my Breton Peasant. Ha! With that horse and that riding -costume I shall charge him a hundred and fifty." - -By this time the young man had reached the hitching post and jumped down -from the saddle. He patted his horse's neck when he had adjusted the -hitching rein, flicked the dust from his riding boots with his -gold-handled whip, and proceeded toward the door. - -"You go, Kate," whispered Stella, who was drawing Greenaway figures with -pen and ink on a set of table doilies, and Kate was not loath. - -"Is Deacon Saxon at home?" inquired the young man in a pleasant voice. - -"I think so. Will you come in?" responded Kate. - -"It isn't the Breton Peasant after all," murmured Stella to Esther. "I -wonder if it can be an ancestor." She arranged the doilies with a quick -artistic touch, and rose as the young man entered the room. - -He had presented Kate with a small engraved card, and though it was a -new discovery for her that gentlemen ever carried such things, she used -it as if to the manner born. - -"Mr. Philip Hadley, Miss Saxon and Miss Northmore," she announced -easily, and Stella added, with a pretty bow, "And, Mr. Hadley, Miss Kate -Northmore." - -The young man looked bewildered. In search of a country deacon of -advanced years, at an old-fashioned farmhouse, to be ushered into one of -the most attractive of parlors, with three charming young ladies in -possession, was enough to bewilder. But he rose to the surprise -gracefully in another moment. - -"I must apologize for intruding myself in this way," he said, "but I -have heard that Deacon Saxon is quite an authority on Esterly -antiquities, and I wanted to see him on a little matter of inquiry." - -"He will be delighted to talk with you. You may be sure of it," said -Stella. - -It was only a minute before the old gentleman appeared, walking in his -nimblest manner from his own room, whither Kate had gone in search of -him. She had put him in possession of his caller's name, and he extended -his hand with an air of welcome and curiosity combined. - -"Hadley? Did you say your name was Hadley? Well, I'm pleased to see -you." - -"I'm very pleased to see you, sir," said the young man, bowing with a -deference of manner which was peculiarly pleasing. "I'm taking a liberty -in calling on you, I'm well aware of it, but it's the penalty one pays -for having a reputation like yours. People say you know everything that -ever happened in Esterly, and as I'm looking up our family history a -little, I thought perhaps you could help me. I confess though," he added -with a smile, "I expected to see a much older person." - -"Older than eighty-eight?" quoth Ruel Saxon. "I was born in the year -seventeen hundred and ninety-one, and if I live till the twenty-first -day of next June I shall be eighty-nine." - -He was too much pleased with the young man's errand, and himself as the -person appealed to, to pause for a compliment at this point, and added -briskly, "I shall be glad to tell you anything I know. 'Tisn't many -young men that go to the old men to inquire about things that are past. -They did in Bible times. In fact, they were commanded to: 'Ask thy -father and he will show thee, thy elders and they will tell thee.' -That's what it says; but they don't do it much nowadays." - -"They have more books to go to now, you know, grandfather," said Stella, -glancing from the figure she was drawing, a charming little maid in a -sunbonnet, and incidentally holding it up as she spoke. - -"Yes, too many of 'em," said her grandfather, rather grimly. "They'd go -to the old folks more if they couldn't get the printed stuff so easy." - -"But, grandfather," exclaimed Esther, "the young people can't all go to -the old people who know the stories. Kate and I didn't have you, for -instance, till a few weeks ago." - -Her grandfather's face relaxed, and Mr. Philip Hadley looked amused. - -"But Deacon Saxon is right," he said, turning to the young ladies. "It's -a much more delightful thing to hear a story from one who has been a -part of it, or remembers those who were, than to get it from the printed -page. I fancy the spirit of a thing is much better preserved by oral -tradition than by cold print. You remember Sir Walter attributed a good -deal of his enthusiasm for Scottish history to the tales of his -grandmother. I see you have a charming sketch of Abbotsford," he added, -glancing at a picture on the wall opposite, and from there with a -questioning look to Stella. - -She gave a pleased nod. "We were sketching in Scotland, a party of us, -last summer," she said. - -"Were you?" exclaimed the young man. "I was tramping on the Border -myself." - -Perhaps he would have liked to defer his consultation with the old -gentleman long enough for a chat with the young lady, but the former was -impatient for it now. He had been scrutinizing his caller's face for the -last few moments with sharp attention. - -"You say your name is Hadley. Are you any relation to the Hadleys that -used to live in our town? There was quite a family of 'em here fifty -years ago." - -"I think I am," said the young man, smiling. "My father was born in -Esterly, but moved away before his remembrance. Perhaps you knew my -grandfather, Moses Hadley." - -"I knew _of_ him," said the old gentleman, nodding; "but our family -never had much to do with the Hadleys, for they lived on the other side -of town. They were good respectable folks," he added in a ruminating -tone; "didn't care any great about schooling, I guess, but they were -master hands for making money. I've heard one of 'em made a great -fortune somewhere out West. He sent a handsome subscription to our -soldiers' monument." - -The young man, who had flushed distinctly during part of this speech, -looked relieved at its conclusion. "That must have been my Uncle -Nathan," he said. "My father went into business in Boston." Perhaps it -was by way of foot-note to the remark about his ancestors' lack of zeal -for learning that he added carelessly: "I remember my cousin came to -Esterly once to see your monument. We were in Harvard together at the -time." - -The remark was lost on the old gentleman. He was pursuing his own train -of recollection now. "I knew your grandmother's folks better 'n I did -your grandfather's," he said. "Moses Hadley married Mercy Bridgewood, -and the Bridgewoods and our folks neighbored a good deal." - -"Did they?" exclaimed the young man, with a quick eagerness in his -voice. "It was the Bridgewood line that I came to see you about. Did you -ever hear of Jabez Bridgewood?" - -"Jabez Bridgewood!" exclaimed Ruel Saxon. "What, old Jabe that used to -live on Cony Hill? Why, sartin, sartin! He 'n' my grandfather were great -cronies. I've heard my mother say more 'n once, when she saw him coming -across the fields: 'Girls, we may as well plan for an extra one to -supper. There's Jabe Bridgewood, and he 'n' your grandfather'll set an' -talk till all's blue. There'll be no getting rid of him.'" - -The young man colored again, and this time the girls did too. But they -might have spared their blushes. The old gentleman was serenely -unconscious of having said anything to call them out, and was pursuing -his subject now under a full head of delighted reminiscence. - -"He was an uncommon bright man, old Jabez Bridgewood; sort o' crotchety -and queer, but chuck full of ideas, and ready to stand up for 'em agin -anybody. He was pretty quick-tempered, too, when anybody riled him up. -My grandfather's told me more 'n once about a row he got into with Peleg -Wright; and the beginning of it was right here in this room. You see, -Peleg was a regular Tory, though he didn't let out fair 'n' square where -he stood; and Jabez he was hot on the other side, right from the start." - -A gleam of amused recollection came into his eyes as he added: "They -used to tell about a contrivance he had on the hill to pepper the -British with, if they should happen to come marching along his road. It -was a young sapling that he bent down and loaded with stones and hitched -a rope to, so he could jerk it up and let fly at a moment's notice. They -called it 'Bridgewood's Battery,' but I guess he never used it. He was -firing that old flint-lock gun of his instead. He was one of the -minute-men, you know. - -"But about that fuss with Peleg Wright. I don' know just what 'twas -Peleg said. He was sitting here talking with Jabe 'n' my grandfather, -getting hold of everything he could, I guess; and he said something -about our duty to the king that stirred Jabe up so that he just bent -down and scooped up a handful o' sand--you know they had the floors -sanded in those days, instead of having carpets on 'em--and flung it -right square into Peleg's face." - -"Shocking!" exclaimed Mr. Hadley, laughing. "Is that the sort of manners -my great-great-grandfather had? I'm ashamed of him." - -"Well, there was a good many that thought he hadn't or' to have done -it," admitted the old gentleman, "but I don't know. Peleg was a terrible -mean-spirited, deceiving sort of cretur. It came out afterwards that -'twas he that put the British on the track of some gunpowder our folks -had stored up; and sometimes I've kind o' thought it served him right. -The Bible says, 'Bread of deceit is sweet to a man, but afterwards his -mouth shall be filled with gravel,' and I don' know but your grandfather -was just fulfilling scripture when he gave it to him." - -"Do you suppose he thought of that verse when he did it?" said Mr. -Hadley, laughing more heartily than before. - -"Mebbe he didn't," said the deacon; "but there's been plenty of -scripture fulfilled without folks knowing it. Well, naturally it made -Peleg pretty mad, 'specially when folks twitted him 'bout it; and a day -or two afterward he pitched on Jabez down town, and I guess it's more 'n -likely one of 'em would have got hurt if folks hadn't separated 'em. -Jabez wrote some verses about it afterward, and I remember my -grandfather telling me one of 'em was:-- - - "'Old Tory Wright with me did fight, - Designing me to kill; - But over me did not obtain - To gain his cursèd will.'" - -"So he was a poet, too!" exclaimed Mr. Hadley. - -"Bless you, yes," said Ruel Saxon. "When he warn't contriving something -or other, he was always making up verses. I've seen 'em scribbled with -chalk all over his house. It was a little house without any paint on it, -and when it got so full it wouldn't hold any more he'd rub 'em out and -put on some fresh ones. Paper warn't as plenty in those days as it is -now, specially not with Jabez." - -"Do you remember any more of his verses?" asked Mr. Hadley, who was -evidently a good deal impressed with this ancestor of his, in spite of -his lack of that economic turn of mind which had so distinguished the -other side of his house. - -"I don' know as I do," said the old gentleman, "though I guess I could -think up some of 'em if I tried. Oh, Jabez Bridgewood was a good deal of -a character. He could do anything he set his hand to, and I never did -see anybody that knew as much about things outdoors as he did. He was -like Solomon, and spoke of the trees, 'from the cedar that is in Lebanon -to the hyssop that springeth out of the wall'; and when it came to the -beasts of the field, and the fowls of the air, and the creeping things, -it seemed as if he knew 'em all, though some folks did think he spent -too much time watching 'em, for the good of his family." - -"Why, he must have been a real genius, a Thoreau sort of man," exclaimed -Esther, who had been listening with rapt attention, as she always did -when her grandfather told a story. "Grandpa, won't you show me some day -where his little house stood, and the tree he loaded with stones to fire -at the British?" - -"And please let me go, too," said Mr. Hadley, glancing at the girl, and -catching her quick responsive smile at her grandfather; "I should like -it immensely." - -"Why, to be sure, I should like it myself," said Deacon Saxon, promptly; -"though there ain't anything there now but dirt and rocks. And I'll take -you round by the old burying-ground and show you his grave, and the -grave of my great-grandfather, John Saxon, that was killed by the -Indians, if you want me to." - -They had it settled in another minute, with Stella in the plan too. Mr. -Hadley was to call again in a few days, and they were all to take the -trip together. And then the young man stayed a little longer, not -talking of his ancestors now, but of things more modern; of Scotland -with Stella; of her impressions of New England with Esther; and with the -old gentleman of the summer home in a neighboring town, which the -Hadleys had lately purchased. It seemed he had ridden over from there -to-day. There was no chance to talk with Kate of anything. She had -disappeared long ago. - -"I'm afraid you'll think I've inherited the staying qualities of my -great-great-grandfather," he said, rising at last. "Really, I don't -wonder he found it hard to get away from here." And then he bowed -himself out with renewed expressions of gratitude for the information he -had received, and of delight in that trip that was coming. - -"A most estimable young man," said Ruel Saxon, when he had ridden away. - -"I think he's the most agreeable young man I ever saw," said Esther, -warmly, and Stella added, "Quite _au fait_; but I mean to find out the -next time he comes whether he really knows anything about art." - -From Mr. Philip Hadley to Miss Katharine Saxon was a far cry, but the -latter had a genius for supplying contrasts, and she furnished one at -that moment by appearing suddenly at the door. Aunt Elsie, who had been -picking raspberries in the garden, was with her. - -"Well, Katharine," exclaimed her brother, hastening to meet her, "'pears -to me you're getting pretty smart to come walking all the way from your -house this hot day." - -"I always had the name of being smart, Ruel," said the old lady, seating -herself, and proceeding with much vigor to use a feather fan made of a -partridge tail, which hung at her belt; "but I shouldn't have taken the -trouble to show it by walking up here to-day if I hadn't had an errand. -Mary 'Liza wants to go home for a couple o' days--her sister's going to -get married--and I s'pose I or' to have somebody in the house with me. -Not that I'm 'fraid of anything," she added, "but I s'pose there'd be a -terrible to-do in the town if I should mind my own business and die in -my bed some night without putting anybody to any trouble about it. So I -thought, long 's you've got so many folks up here just now, I'd see if -one of the girls was a mind to come down and stay with me." - -She had been facing her brother as she talked, but she turned toward -Esther with the last words. - -The girl's face lighted with an instant pleasure. "Let _me_ come, Aunt -Katharine," she said. "I should like to, dearly." - -There was a gleam of satisfaction in Aunt Katharine's eyes. "I'd be much -obleeged to you to do it," she said promptly. - -"But Aunt Katharine," exclaimed Aunt Elsie, "don't you think you'd -better come here and stay with us? We should like to have you, and it's -a long time since you slept in your old room." - -"I don't care anything particular about old rooms," said Miss Saxon. -"I'm beholden to you, Elsie; but I'd rather be in my own house, long 's -I can have somebody with me." - -"I s'pose you've got Solomon Ridgeway there yet," observed her brother, -maliciously. "You don't seem to count much on him, but mebbe you're -afraid of robbers, with all his jewellery in the house." - -She took no notice of the sarcasm. "Solomon's been gone 'most a week," -she said. "Took a notion he wanted to be back at the farm again." - -"So he's gone back to the poor'us, has he?" said the old gentleman. -"Well, it's the place for him, poor afflicted cretur!" - -She threw up her head with the quick impatient motion. "Dreadful -'flicted, Ruel," she said. "He's a leetle the happiest man I know." - -"Hm," grunted her brother; "happy because he hain't got sense enough to -know his own situation. He thinks he's rich, when all he's got wouldn't -buy him a week's victuals and a suit o' clothes." - -Miss Saxon's eyes narrowed to the hawk-like expression which was common -in her controversies with her brother. "Oh, he's crazy, of course," she -said, with an inexpressible dryness in her voice; "thinks he's rich when -he's poor! But you didn't call Squire Ethan crazy when he had so much -money he didn't know what to do with it, and was so 'fraid he'd come to -want that he dassn't give a cent of it away, or let his own folks have -enough to live on." - -"I ain't excusing Squire Ethan," said the deacon, bridling. "He made a -god of his money, and he'll be held responsible for it. But Solomon -Ridgeway ain't half witted. He's been crack-brained for the last forty -years, and you know it." - -The coolness of her manner increased with his rising heat. "Oh, -Solomon's daft, Ruel," she said in her politest manner. "We won't argy -about _that_. A man _must_ be daft that takes his wife's death so hard -it eeny most kills him, and he stays single all the rest of his life. A -man that had full sense would be courting some other woman inside a -year." - -The deacon's eyes kindled. "You talk like one of the foolish women, -Katharine," he said sharply. "A man ain't compelled to stay single all -the rest of his days because the Lord's seen fit to take away his wife. -The Bible says it ain't good for man to be alone, and 'whoso findeth a -wife findeth a good thing.'" - -She laughed her thin mocking laugh. "And the more he has of 'em the -better, I s'pose! You don't happen to remember, do you, any place where -it says she that finds a husband finds a good thing?" - -Apparently the exact verse was not at hand, but Ruel Saxon was prepared -without it. "There are some things that folks with common sense are -s'posed to know without being told," he said tartly. - -The words had come so fast from both sides that even Aunt Elsie had not -been able to interpose till this moment. She seized the pause now with -hurrying eagerness. "Aunt Katharine," she said, "here you are sitting -all this time with your bonnet on. You must take it off and stay to -supper with us." - -The old woman rose and untied the strings. "Thank ye kindly, Elsie," she -said; "I b'lieve I will." - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -A GLIMPSE FROM THE INSIDE - - -In the cool of the day Aunt Katharine and Esther walked together across -the fields to the little house on the county road. The sunset was -throbbing itself out above the hills in a glory of crimson and gold, and -the girl's face seemed to have caught the shining as she moved -tranquilly toward it. - -In the doorway of the barn Tom and Kate watched them go, and exchanged -comments with their usual frankness. It was their favorite place for -discussion--that and the wood-pile--and few were the subjects of current -interest which did not receive a tossing back and forth at their hands -when the day's work was done. - -[Illustration: "TOM AND KATE WATCHED THEM GO."] - -"That's an uncommon queer thing for Aunt Katharine to do," observed Tom. -"When she's been left alone before she's always got one of the Riley -girls to stay there and paid her for doing it. She must have taken a -shine to Esther. Maybe she thinks she can work her round to some of her -notions." - -Kate shook her head. "Esther isn't her sort of person at all," she said. -"Aunt Katharine would take somebody that's strong-minded like herself if -she wanted a follower in those things." - -Tom flicked a kernel of corn at a swallow that swooped down from a beam -above his head, and remarked carelessly, "Maybe strong-minded folks had -rather have those that ain't so strong-minded to work on." - -There was something in this that gave a passing uneasiness to the look -in Kate's black eyes. She was silent a moment, then said with emphasis, -"Well, I'll risk Esther Northmore;" and a minute later, oddly enough, -she was talking of Morton Elwell, and wondering what he found to do now -that wheat harvest and haying were over at home. - -"If he's out of a job I wish he'd come round this way," observed Tom. -"We need another hand in our meadow, and we'd set him to work right -off." - -"And supply him with a scythe to work with, I suppose," said Kate, -scornfully. "I imagine Mort Elwell! He rides a mowing machine when _he_ -cuts grass." - -"Well, he couldn't ride it in our meadow," retorted Tom. "There isn't a -Hoosier on top of the ground that could do it. I don't care how smart he -is." (He had been tantalized at frequent intervals ever since Kate's -coming by accounts of Morton Elwell's smartness.) "A scythe is the only -thing that'll work in a place like that." - -"Out our way they wouldn't have such a place," said Kate, loftily. -"They'd put in tile and drain it, if they were going to use the ground -at all." - -"A nice job they'd have of it," grunted Tom; and then he remarked -incidentally: "I heard Esther tell Stella the other day that our meadow -was the prettiest place she ever saw. They were sitting by the brook, -and she said it made her sick to think how your creek at home looked, -all so brown and muddy." - -This was a manifest digression, but Tom had a genius for that, and a -quotation from Esther bearing on the attractions of New England was a -missile he never failed to use, when it came to his hand in discussion -with Kate. She looked annoyed for a minute. There was no denying that -the creek at home was a sorry-looking stream beside that beautiful -meadow brook, with its clear pebbly bottom. But she recovered herself in -another moment. - -"Oh, your brook is pretty, of course," she said graciously, "but it's -all in the way you look at it. For my part I don't mind having a good -rich brown in the color of ours. It shows that the land isn't all rocks; -that there's something in it soft enough to wash down." - -Tom whistled. He was used to Kate now, and never really expected to have -the last word. Returning to the subject of the hay-making, he remarked: -"Grandfather was down there for a while this afternoon, to show us how -fast we ought to work, I suppose--you ought to have seen him bring down -the swath--but he couldn't keep it up very long, and made an errand to -the house; a good thing he did, too, or he'd have missed that call that -tickled him so. I say, that fellow must have been a regular swell for -all you girls to be so taken with him." - -"Who said _I_ was taken with him?" demanded Kate. "It was his horse I -fell in love with." - -"Well, the others were, if you weren't," persisted Tom. "Esther seemed -to think she never saw such a young man." - -"She's seen some that are a good deal nicer," said Kate, with emphasis, -and then she added rather irritably: "I shouldn't think a fellow could -have much to do who spends his time running round to find out what his -great-great-grandfather did. For my part I don't take much stock in that -sort of thing." - -And on this point they were in perfect agreement. Tom, like Kate, had no -great use for ancestors. - -Meanwhile the shadows lengthened, and the two slow figures moving across -the fields reached the end of their walk. That the days to be spent with -Aunt Katharine would seem rather long, Esther fully expected. Yet she -had wanted them. She had been honest when she said to Stella at parting: -"Don't pity me. I really like it!" and she wondered at the incredulous -look with which her cousin had regarded her. With all there was of taste -and artistic feeling in common between these two, there was something in -Esther, something of seriousness and warmth, which the other partly -lacked. - -Possibly the girl expected--as Stella had warned her--that the old woman -would at once mount the hobby, which she was supposed to keep always -saddled and bridled, as soon as they were fairly in the house together, -but as a matter of fact, Aunt Katharine did nothing of the kind. She -talked, as they sat in the twilight, of Esther herself, of her work at -school, and the things she enjoyed most in this summer visit, and then -of Esther's mother, recalling incidents of her childhood, and speaking -of her ways and traits with an appreciation that filled the girl with -surprise and delight. - -"Your mother might have done something out of the common," she said as -she ended. "She was made larger than most folks, and with all her soft -ways, she had more courage. She might have had a great influence. I -always said it." - -"Mother has a good deal of influence now," said Esther, smiling. "Father -says there isn't a lady in our town whose opinions count for as much as -hers." - -"Of course, of course," said the old woman, with a note of impatience -creeping into her voice; "and the upshot of it is that she makes old -ways that are wrong seem right, because she, with all _her_ faculties, -manages to make the best of 'em. She might have done better than that, -_if she'd seen_." - -And then she rose suddenly and lighted a lamp. "I always have a chapter -before I go to bed," she said. "You might read it to-night." - -Esther was surprised. She had somehow gained the impression, in Aunt -Katharine's talks with her brother, that she held the scriptures rather -lightly, but apparently this was wrong. "What shall I read?" she asked, -going to the stand on which lay the Bible, a large and very old one. - -"Read me that chapter about Judith," she said, "how she delivered her -people out of the hand of Holofernes, and all the city stood up and -blessed her." - -Esther sat for a moment with a puzzled face, her finger between the -leaves of the book. "Is that in Judges?" she asked, with a vague -remembrance of a prophetess who led Israel to battle. - -The old woman lifted her eyebrows. "Oh, that is in the Apocrypha," she -said. "Well, if you don't know about Judith you mustn't begin at the end -of her story. Read me about Deborah; that's a good place." - -There was no sweeter sleep under the stars that night than came to -Esther. She had thought with some foreboding of a feather bed, but it -was the best of hair mattresses that Aunt Katharine provided. Even the -high-post bedstead, with draperies of ancient pattern, which she had -really hoped for, was wanting. There was nothing to prevent the air -which came through the wide east window, full of woodsy odors and the -droning of happy insects, from coming straight to her pillow. - -There was indeed nothing in the room to recall the fashions of the past -except the coverlet, wrought in mazy figures tufted of crocheting -cotton, and a round silk pincushion mounted on a standard of glass, -which standard suggested former service as part of a lamp. Aunt -Katharine had as little care to preserve the customs of her foremothers -as their ways of thinking. She had told the girl to rise when she felt -like it; but in the early morning Esther found herself wide awake, and -the sound of stirring below brought her quickly to her feet. - -Aunt Katharine was busy about the stove when she entered the kitchen, -and the sight of her niece in her clean work-apron evidently pleased -her. They took a cup of tea with a fresh egg and a slice of toast at the -kitchen table, and Esther tried to recall her dream of the night before -for the entertainment of the other. "It must have been reading about -Deborah that put it into my head," she said. "I thought I was living all -by myself in a house that was under a great oak tree, and all sorts of -people were coming to me on all sorts of errands, and finally I was -going out with a great company of them to battle, but I don't know what -the battle was about, or how it came out," she ended lightly. "I think -the dream must have broken off when I heard you moving about down here." - -"Dreams are queer things," said Aunt Katharine, who had been listening -with attention. - -"Of course I don't believe in them," Esther made haste to say, "but Aunt -Milly always insisted that the first dream you had when you slept in a -strange place meant something. I'm sure it meant something to sleep in -such a lovely room, and rest as sweetly as I did," she added, with an -affectionate smile at the old lady. - -Miss Katharine Saxon had long prided herself on a complete indifference -to any blandishments of words or manner on the part of her -fellow-creatures. It wasn't what people said, nor how they said it, but -the principles they lived up to, that constituted a claim to her regard, -as she often declared; but she fell a victim as easily as scores had -done before her to the pretty tactful ways of Esther Northmore and her -gift for saying pleasant things. Not in years had she been as warm, as -open, and confiding as during that visit. In the entertainment of her -niece she made no mistake. She let her help in the housework and watched -with pleasure while she darned a tablecloth. She was studying the girl, -with genuine liking to guide the study. - -And Esther, for her part, was watching her Aunt Katharine with growing -regard and sympathy. It was a surprise at first, to note the solicitude -with which she inquired after the sick child of Patrick Riley, the -Irishman who carried on her farm, and came night and morning to attend -to her chores; and the girl was not prepared for the almost maternal -interest with which the old woman looked after the dumb creatures on her -place. - -On the subject which she was known to have most at heart--the wrongs of -her sex--she said nothing for a while, and Esther was too mindful of -those old griefs in her life to provoke the theme. It came casually, the -second day, as they sat seeding raisins in the kitchen. A boy had -brought a pail of berries to the door, but she refused them. An hour -later a girl came with a similar errand, and without hesitating she made -the purchase. - -"I hope you didn't change your mind on my account," said Esther, when -the child was gone, remembering apologetically something she had said in -the interval about her own liking for huckleberries. "With all the fruit -you have I'm sure we didn't need them." - -Miss Saxon smiled. "I didn't change my mind," she said. "I thought some -girl would be along, and so I waited." - -The boy's face had looked eager, and Esther felt rather sorry for him. -"Don't you suppose he needed the money as much as she did?" she asked -rather timidly. - -"Mebbe he needed it more," said Aunt Katharine. "The Billingses are -worse off than the Esteys, but that ain't the p'int. It's a good thing -for a girl to be earning money. It's worth something to her to make a -few cents, and know it's her own. That's what the girls need more 'n -anything else, and I always help 'em every chance I get." - -Esther pondered for a minute without speaking. The old woman's eyes had -taken on a look of deep seriousness. "That's the root of all the -trouble," she said almost fiercely, "this notion that the women must be -forever dependent on the men, and take what's given 'em and be thankful, -without trying to do for themselves. I tell you it was never meant that -one half of the world should hang on the other half, and look to 'em for -the shelter over their heads, and the food they eat, and the clothes -they wear. It degrades 'em both." - -Esther stopped seeding raisins and looked at her aunt in astonishment. -An arraignment of the existing order of things such as she had not heard -before was suggested here. Perhaps the very blankness of her expression -appealed more than any protest to the old woman. The defiance went out -of her voice, and it was almost a pleading tone in which she went on:-- - -"Don't you see what comes of it? Don't you see? It makes the girls think -they must get married so 's to have a home and somebody to support 'em, -and then they plan 'n' contrive--they 'n' their mothers with 'em--how to -catch a husband." She shut her lips hard, as if her loathing of the -thing were too great for utterance, then went on: "But small blame to -'em, I say, if that's the only thing a woman's fit for; small blame to -'em if they won't let her choose her work for herself and live by it, -without calling shame on her for doing it. It's a little better -now--thank God and the women that have been brave enough to go ahead in -the face of it!--but I've seen the day when an old maid was looked on as -something almost out of nature. 'Let a girl dance in the pig's trough,' -if her younger sister gets married before her. Let her own she's -disgraced, and be done with it. That's the old saying, and the spirit of -it ain't all dead yet. It never will be till women are as free as men to -do whatever thing is _in 'em_ to do, and make the most of it." - -Her face had grown white as she talked, and the color had paled a little -even in Esther's. "Oh," she said, "I've thought of that, too. I've hated -it when people talked as if there was nothing for girls but to get -married." The color came back with a quick flush as she added: "I'd -rather die than be scheming about that myself; but what can you do? Boys -always talk about the work they mean to follow. People would think there -was something wrong with them, if they didn't; but if girls say -anything--I did try once to talk about what I could do to earn my own -living, but father acted as if I was somehow reflecting on him, and -mother--though I'm sure she understood me better--seemed worried and -troubled." - -"That's it, that's it!" said Aunt Katharine, bitterly. "Even those that -say a woman's got a right to choose, say under their breath that she'll -never be happy if it's anything but getting married. I tell you it's -finding your own work and doing it that makes people happy, and that's a -law for women as much as men." - -"But if you knew your work!" said Esther, piteously. "It seems to me -there are very few girls who have anything special they can do." - -"That's no more true of girls than 'tis of boys," said Aunt Katharine. -"We should find something for one as well as for the other, _something_ -they could work at, if we settled it once for all that they had the same -right and need. But we've got to start with that idea right from the -beginning." - -After that, during the time which remained of the visit, the talk came -often into the circle of this thought. Sometimes Miss Saxon talked of -the wrongs of women, of their inequality before the law, and of the -tyranny of men, with a bitterness before which the girl shrank, but the -very vehemence of the other's belief carried her with it, and through it -all one thing grew more and more clear to her. It was not hatred of men, -but love of her own sex, which lay at the bottom of Katharine Saxon's -defiance of the social order. The longing to help women, to lift them -into what seemed to her a larger, freer living, had laid hold of her -wholly, and held her in the white heat of its consuming passion. - -Once, when she had been speaking of the struggle which lay before any -woman confronted with the problem of supporting a family, Esther said -softly: "Grandpa told me about you one night, Aunt Katharine; how you -gave up everything and worked so hard to help your sister when she came -home with her children. I thought that was grand." - -The old woman did not speak for a moment, then she said, with a singular -lack of emotion in her voice: "Poor Nancy! Yes, I thought then 'twas my -duty to do what I did, and mebbe 'twas; but sometimes I've thought--Nancy -and her girls were only a han'ful out of the many--sometimes I've thought -mebbe I might have done more good if I'd been fighting for 'em all. I -gave the best fifteen years of my life to that old spinning-wheel, and -scarcely looked out of my corner." And then the lines of her face -stiffened as she added: "But I had my reward. I was saved from -marrying--marrying Levi Dodge." - -The scorn in her voice as she said the last words was indescribable. For -a while neither of them spoke. Then Esther said, leaning toward the -other, her heart in her eyes, and her breath coming quick, "Aunt -Katharine, wouldn't you have women marry at all?" - -She threw up her head with the quick, impatient movement which Esther -had come to know so well. "They might all marry and welcome," she -said,--"it's the Lord's way to preserve the race,--if only we could get -rid of the notions that folks have joined onto it to spoil it." - -And then the note that was not of defiance, but pleading, came back to -her voice, as she added: "But I'd have some of the women that _see_ stay -free from it till we've worked this thing out, and made a fair chance -for those that come after us; I'd have 'em show that the world has some -interests for women outside of their own homes, and some work they can -do besides waiting on their husbands and children; I'd have 'em show -that a woman ain't afraid nor ashamed to walk without leaning; and I'd -have 'em keep their eyes open to see what's going on. I'd have 'em hold -themselves clear of the danger of being blinded even by love to the -things that need doing." - -No doubt there was much that was wholly vague to Esther Northmore in the -vision of service which lay before the mind of Katharine Saxon. But the -thought of some renunciation for the sake of others--some work, unselfish -and lasting--what generous young soul has not at moments felt the thrill -of it? Their eyes met in a glow of sympathy, if not of full -understanding, and the clock ticked solemnly in a stillness which, for a -minute, neither of them could break. - -It was a light step at the open door which suddenly drew their -attention. Kate was coming briskly up the walk with a letter in her -hand. - -"It's from home," she said, as Esther rose to meet her, "and I thought -you ought to have it." - -She noticed the look of exaltation on her sister's face, and something -she had never seen before in Aunt Katharine's. Her efforts at -conversation met with little response. She was conscious of some -atmosphere surrounding these two which she herself could not penetrate, -and she was glad to slip away at the end of a very short call. - -"They must have been talking about something awfully serious," she said -to Tom afterward. "They looked as solemn as a pair of owls. I hope that -girl of Aunt Katharine's will come home when she said she would. For my -part, I think Esther's stayed there long enough." - - - - -CHAPTER X - -SOME BITS OF POETRY - - -Aunt Katharine's maid of all work did not outstay her leave of absence, -and at evening of the third day Esther came home to her grandfather's. -She insisted that she had had a good time, and strongly resented being -regarded as a martyr who had sacrificed herself to a painful cause. - -"Why, Aunt Katharine made it delightful for me," she said, "and I liked -her better and better all the time I stayed." - -"I hope she didn't win you over to all her notions, especially that -prejudice against getting married," said Stella, with a laugh. - -"She certainly didn't argue me out of the belief that life might be -worth living if one happened to stay single," returned Esther, and -though she said it lightly, the look in her eyes was sober. - -But they did not talk long of Aunt Katharine. There was something of -livelier interest to be discussed now. It had been the plan from the -first that sometime during the summer they should visit Boston with -Stella. The summer was wearing away, and it was time for the plan to -mature. Moreover, a letter had come from a cousin, who had a cottage for -the season at Nahant, inviting them all to spend a week with her there. - -Kate was in raptures, and Stella was mapping out a fortnight's touring -which should include a circuit of pleasures, Boston and the seashore, -with Concord and Cambridge, and perhaps Old Plymouth, thrown in. It was -all delightful to think of. For the next few days their minds were full -of it, and in the midst came that pleasant trip which had been planned -with Mr. Philip Hadley. - -He was punctual to his engagement, and appeared early on the appointed -afternoon. But he was not on horseback now. He was in a stylish top -buggy, behind a pair of high-stepping bays. Ruel Saxon had planned to -take the two girls with him in the family carriage--Kate had other plans -for the afternoon--but Mr. Hadley's buggy changed all that. - -"If one of the young ladies will ride with me I shall be delighted," he -said, glancing with a smile at Esther, who happened to be the only one -of them in the room at the moment. - -She returned the smile, then turning to her grandfather, settled the -arrangement in just the right way. "Grandfather," she said, "we must let -Stella go with Mr. Hadley. That will be nice for them both, and then you -and I will go together. I don't want to be selfish, but I shan't be here -much longer, you know, and must make the most of my chances for riding -with you." - -The old gentleman looked gratified, and Mr. Hadley smiled again. As for -Stella, there was no doubt of her satisfaction with the arrangement when -she came in a minute later. She was looking exceedingly stylish in a -pale green dress, with hat and parasol to match, and quite the figure to -sit with Mr. Hadley behind those handsome bays. - -It was a perfect afternoon, and a light rain the night before had laid -the dust in the country roads. It was the least frequented of them all, -a track which was hardly more than a cart-path which led by the old -Bridgewood place, and they tied their horses to a rail fence and climbed -on foot to the top of the sharp knoll on which the house once had stood. -There was no trace of it now. The walls on which their eccentric owner -had once hung his verses in the wind had long ago dropped away, and the -very stones of its foundation had been removed out of their place. - -Even the tree which had been part of his "battery"--if indeed it survived -the experience--could not be distinguished now in the thick grove of -maple and chestnut and birch which covered the place. Only the view from -the hilltop remained unchanged, and this, as Stella declared, sitting -breathless at the end of the climb, justified the owner's choice of a -dwelling-spot, and must have inspired his muse. - -From there to the old burying-ground was by a winding way, for Ruel -Saxon was in historic mood, and guided his party past the lake haunted -by the memory of conjuring Jane, who had been drowned there as a witch -long, long ago; past the meadow where a little party of the early -settlers, busy with making hay one summer afternoon, had fallen victims -to the tomahawks of the Indians; and past the rock where Whitefield, -shut out from the churches, had preached one Sabbath day to a crowd of -spell-bound and weeping people. - -Sometimes he drew Dobbin to the side of the road, and giving the buggy -space beside him, paused while he set out the event which the scene -called up with vivid description and trenchant comment. He was no mean -chaperon in guiding others over the track of the past, and this -afternoon he was at his best. - -The old burying-ground lay on the edge of a pine wood, on the outskirts -of the village. It was more than half a century since the sod had been -disturbed, and grass and daisies possessed the paths which once lay -plain between mounds which years had smoothed to almost the common -level. There had been no encroachment of a growing town upon its borders -to break its quiet with the noise and hurry of a strenuous life. It lay, -an utter quietness, in the beauty of the summer afternoon, a spot in -which it was impossible not to feel that a great peace must have -infolded those whose bodies had mouldered to dust in its tranquil -keeping. - -Yet perhaps Esther was the only one of the little company who felt the -pensive influence of the place, and she had never stood before in an old -New England burying-ground. Even she did not keep it long, for Ruel -Saxon was full of a bustling eagerness to find the graves they had come -to seek, and the quaintness of the mortuary devices and inscriptions on -the low gray stones soon claimed her whole attention. - -"Your great-great-grandfather made up a good many of these epitaphs," -observed the old gentleman to Mr. Hadley. "He was a wonderful hand for -that. Folks were always going to him when their relations died--those -that wanted anything except verses of scripture under the names. Here's -his own grave now!" he exclaimed, pausing in his rapid searching, and -not a little pleased with himself that he had so quickly found a spot -which he had not seen in many years:-- - - "'Sacred to the memory of - JABEZ BRIDGEWOOD. - Born Aug. 1, 1735--died Nov. 12, 1810.' - -"That's his stone, and no mistake." - -Mr. Hadley was bending over it now. Below the inscription which the old -man had read were four lines which the creeping moss had almost -obliterated. He took a knife from his pocket and scraped a few words. - -"Ah," he said, lifting his head, "there is evidently one he didn't -write:-- - - "'Oh Friends, seek not his merits to disclose, - Nor draw his frailties from their dread abode, - (There they alike in trembling hope repose) - The bosom of his Father and his God.'" - -"No," said Ruel Saxon, who did not recognize the slightly changed -familiar lines, "he didn't write that. But he picked it out, and left -word in writing to have it put on his stone. I remember hearing my -grandfather talk about it. Some folks thought 'twas queer he didn't -write his own epitaph. It always tickled him so when he got a chance to -do it for other folks." - -"Poor man," said Mr. Hadley, with a smile, "it was probably his only -chance of publication. Think what that must have meant to him! But I'm -glad he recognized a superior poet. It's a mark of greatness." - -They separated a little now, moving about among the headstones, and -reading, as they could, the old inscriptions. Some of them were -provocative of an amusement which must have its way even in this -hallowed spot. - -There was one which ran:-- - - "Here lies, cut down like unripe fruit, - Ye son of Mr. Jonas Boot, - And Mrs. Jemima Boot his wife named Jonathan." - -"I rather hope my ancestor didn't write that," said Mr. Hadley. Then, -noting the date of the said Jonathan's death, 1748, he added, with a -shake of his head, "But he might; it's possible, if his poetic genius -blossomed early." - -There was another close by which Stella was reading now. It was -inscribed to a girl of sixteen:-- - - "Too good for earth, God in His love, - Took her to dwell with saints above." - -"Poor little thing!" she said, under her breath. "I wonder if she liked -living with the saints half as well as with her own girl friends. It's -to be hoped that she found some there." - -There was dignity in one over which Esther was bending now:-- - - "Let not ye dead forgotten lye, - Lest men forget that they must die;" - -and a touch of real tenderness was in the one which stood beside it -under the name of a little child:-- - - "She faltered by the wayside, - And the angels took her home." - -But this, which came next, was not so felicitous:-- - - "God took him to His Heavenly home, - No more this weary world to roam." - -This, to a babe of six months, certainly indicated a paucity of rhymes -on the part of the composer, and Mr. Hadley pointed in triumph to a year -marked on the little gray slab which plainly antedated his ancestor. - -But the stone which by the consent of all was pronounced the most unique -was inscribed to Keziah, a "beloved wife who put on immortality" at the -age of thirty-five. Below the name and date was carved an emblem -suggestive of a chrysalis, with the words, "Keziah as she was;" and -under this appeared the head of a cherub, with the wings of a butterfly -sprouting from its swollen cheeks, and the words, "Keziah as she is." - -Stella hovered around this for some time in convulsed admiration. "I'm -so glad there were artists as well as poets in those days," she said; -and then she added, with a levity she could not repress, "it reminds one -for all the world of the advertisements, 'Before and after taking.'" - -There was another erected to the memory of a wife which called forth -almost as much admiration. The virtues of the deceased were set forth -with unusual fulness, and the record of her long services to society, -the church, and her family, ended with the words, "She lived with her -husband sixty years, and died in the hope of a better life." - -Even Deacon Saxon chuckled over this, and then added, "I don't b'lieve -my sister Katharine ever heard of that, or she'd have thrown it up to me -before this." - -It was queer what oddities of thought and expression had got themselves -cut in some of these stones, and there were commonplaces which occurred -over and over:-- - - "Friends nor physicians could not save - This loving ----" - -Was father, mother, husband, the needed title? Alas, all were easily -supplied, and then followed the inevitable "from the grave." - -There was one with a harsh creditor accent, before which light-hearted -readers could hardly help shrinking a little:-- - - "Death is a debt to Nature due, - I've paid it now, and so must you." - -But there was another, carved more than once, which might well cause a -deeper shudder. It ran:-- - - "Beneath this stone Death's prisoner lies, - Ye stone shall move, ye prisoner rise, - When Jesus, with Almighty word, - Calls his dead Saints to meet their Lord." - -"Dreadful theology, don't you think?" Mr. Hadley said, turning with a -little shiver to the girls, and their grandfather added his assent to -theirs with emphasis. "Yes, Jesus hasn't got any dead saints. They or' -to have remembered what He said Himself, that God is not the God of the -dead, but of the living." - -But by far the greater number of these ancient headstones were marked -with texts of scripture, and however mirth might be provoked by -sentiment or phrase from other sources, the simple dignity of the book -of books always brought back seriousness and reminded on what word the -hearts of men had leaned, through the long generations, to endure the -old, old sorrow of death. The faith of the fathers, not their fashions, -was the thought which one must bear away in the end from such a spot. - -They had paused longest by the graves of Ruel Saxon's people, and again -as they left the place he lingered for a moment by the low gray line of -stones. "They were God-fearing men and women, all of them," he said, -with tender reverence in his voice; then, lifting his face, he added, -with inexpressible pride and solemnity:-- - - "My boast is not that I deduce my birth - From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth, - But higher far my proud pretensions rise-- - The son of parents passed into the skies." - -That was the last word spoken before they let down the bars in the old -stone wall and made their way back to their horses. Possibly the young -man, who was so anxious to establish his family record, may have caught, -at that moment, a new thought of ancestral honors. - -It had been a full afternoon, and it was a late one when they reached -the farmhouse. Mr. Hadley would have mounted to his buggy at once after -helping Stella down, but the deacon interposed. - -"Why, it's high time for supper," he said, "and you mustn't drive back -to Hartridge without having a bite to eat, you or your horses either." - -"Of course not," said Stella, cordially. "We count on your staying to -supper." And then she added archly, "I really think you ought, for the -sake of your great-great-grandfather." - -"Whom your great-great-grandmother could never get rid of?" he replied, -laughing. "I'm not sure but on his account I ought to go, to convince -you that his descendants at least can turn their backs on pleasure." - -But he did not insist on doing it, and it is extremely doubtful whether -Jabez Bridgewood ever enjoyed a meal under the old roof more than Philip -Hadley enjoyed the one that followed. The fact was, both Stella and her -mother had foreseen that the delays and digressions of the old gentleman -in showing his party around would consume the afternoon, and bring the -young man back at about this time. They had conferred carefully as to -the setting of the table in the best old-fashioned china, with a pretty -mingling of Stella's hand-painted pieces; the menu had been settled to a -nicety in advance, and the delicate French salad, which Mr. Hadley -pronounced the best he had ever tasted, had been compounded by Stella -herself before leaving the house. - -Tom and Kate, who were just in from a tramp to a distant pasture, had -their places with the others. Tom had objected at first to sitting down -with "the nabob," as he called their guest, but Kate's persuasions and -his own curiosity finally overcame him. - -The meal was a social one. The girls talked of their intended outing, -and Mr. Hadley, who was much interested, made some capital suggestions. - -Then a question or two drew him out in regard to his own summer, and he -talked quite charmingly of a yachting trip in July. There was a plan for -the White Mountains early in September. He had succeeded better than -usual in killing time this summer, he said; to which he added -gracefully, that he believed no other day of it had been as pleasant as -this which was just ending. - -This brought them back to the excursion of the afternoon, and Esther in -particular grew quite eloquent over the delights of it. - -"That's what it is to live in an old country," she said wistfully. "You -feel as if you belonged to the past as well as the present when you -stand in the places where the things you've read of really happened. I -think it's beautiful to have historic associations." - -There was an approving murmur over this sentiment, but Kate did not join -in it. There was no mistaking its implied suggestion of a point in which -New England had the advantage over her native state. She might possibly -have let it pass if Tom had not had the indiscretion at that moment to -press her foot under the table. Up to this point her part in the -conversation had been mostly questions, but now she advanced an opinion -boldly. - -"Well, I must say I never wanted to live in an old country on that -account," she said. "I remember when mother used to read Child's History -of England to us, I was always glad that our country began later, and -that we didn't have those cruel times, when people were beheaded for -nothing, and princes' eyes put out by their wicked uncles, in our -history at all. Those things you've been hearing about this -afternoon--there wasn't anything very beautiful about some of them. That -poor old thing they drowned--I don't suppose she was any more a witch -than I am. And that rock where Whitefield preached--it was a mean bigoted -thing to keep him out of the churches, and I should think good people -would be ashamed every time they looked at the rock." - -There was silence for a minute when she ended. Then Mr. Hadley said, -with a smile, "In other words, if you have historic associations at all, -you want those of the very best sort." To which he added, lifting his -eyebrows a trifle, "I presume you wouldn't object to Bunker Hill and -Lexington!" - -Kate took a swallow of water before speaking. Then she said with -dignity: "I have never regarded Bunker Hill and Lexington as local -affairs. I think they belong to the whole country!" - -Mr. Hadley made her a bow across the table. "Capital!" he said. "I -surrender." - -"If you knew how my cousin Kate stands up for everything connected with -her own part of the country, you'd surrender in advance any attempt to -impress her with the beauties of ours," said Stella, laughing. "Talk of -loyalty to one's home!" - -"Well, you certainly have a remarkably fine section of country out your -way," said Mr. Hadley, graciously. "My father was there buying grain one -summer, and I remember he came back perfectly enthusiastic over -everything except the ague, which he brought home with him, and had hard -work to get rid of. I suppose you'll admit that you do have some chills -and fever lying round in your low lands." - -"Oh, people have to have something," said Kate, carelessly, "but ague -isn't the worst thing that ever was. People very seldom die of it, and -it's really the most interesting disease in the world. I could give you -a list as long as my arm of the ingenious ways country people have of -curing it; and some of them are perfectly fascinating, they're so queer. -You ought to hear my father talk about ague." - -There was an explosion of laughter at this. "Kate," cried Stella, -"you're as bad as the old woman who was challenged to find a good -quality in his Satanic majesty, and immediately said there was nothing -like his perseverance. But really, if one must discuss chills and fever, -don't you think they're a little, just a little plebeian?" - -"Oh," said Kate, "anything's plebeian--if you've a mind to call it -so--that keeps people moping and ailing. But there are lots of things -more 'ornary' than chills. It was when they were all coming down with -them, don't you know, that Mark Tapley found the first chance he ever -had to be 'jolly' when 'twas really a credit to him!" - -The laughter took a note of applause now from Mr. Hadley. "Miss Saxon," -he exclaimed, turning to Stella, "don't let's press her any further; -she's positively making a classic of the ague. If she says much more, we -shall all be wanting to go out there for the express purpose of getting -it." - -"But ten chances to one you wouldn't get it, if you did," said Kate. "As -a matter of fact, we don't have much of it nowadays. It was part of the -newness of the country, and draining the land has carried most of it -off." - -There was nothing to be said to this. She was in possession of the field -at both ends, and they retreated from the subject with a last volley of -laughter. - -After supper Tom told Kate confidentially that she had "done 'em up in -good style. Though I'll warrant," he added severely, "that you'd brag as -much as anybody if you had some of the old places we have out your way." -And then he observed that the nabob wasn't half bad. He didn't know as -'twas strange that the girls had taken such a fancy to him. - -As it happened, Esther was thinking of him at that very moment. She had -just finished reading a letter from Morton Elwell,--a letter written, as -he happened to mention, before five one morning of a day that was to be -full of work. How well she knew that it was one of many--days that -followed each other without break or pause save for the Sabbath's rest! -And then she thought of Mr. Philip Hadley with his summer devices for -"killing time." She wondered why life should be so easy for some, so -strenuous for others; and, for the first time, she thought of it with a -sort of resentment that Morton Elwell should work so hard and have no -summer pleasuring. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -AN OUTING AND AN INVITATION - - -The next week came that never-to-be-forgotten outing which gave the -Northmore girls their first glimpse of Boston, and their first -acquaintance with the sea. Till the morning they started there was no -talk of anything else. Stella, who knew better than her cousins what -occasion might demand of dress in a stylish watering-place, bent all her -artistic skill to the revising of garments, and even Kate and Esther, -whose wardrobes were mostly new, found some chance for retouchings, some -need of new laces and ribbons. - -For the first time since their coming, their grandfather really felt -himself a little neglected. Occasionally, as he passed through the room -where the three girls sat busy with sewing and the eager discussion of -styles and colors, he murmured solemnly, "Vanity of vanities, all is -vanity;" and he not only prayed feelingly at family devotions that the -young of his household might learn to adorn themselves with "the -ornament of a meek and quiet spirit," but he selected once for his -morning reading a chapter in which warnings were pronounced against -those who set their hearts on "changeable suits of apparel, and mantles, -and wimples, and crisping-pins." However, he was as anxious as any one -that his granddaughters should enjoy themselves, and his good-will -toward this particular excursion was sufficiently indicated by the -trifle which he quietly added to the pin-money of each when they started -off. - -It does not concern our story, and would take too long to tell all the -sights and happenings of the days that followed. Never did two more -interested or more appreciative girls than Kate and Esther Northmore -walk about the streets of Boston, or take in the meanings and memories -which it held in its keeping, and in its dear vicinity. - -At Cambridge, as they walked about the grounds of Harvard, whom should -they meet but Mr. Philip Hadley? A remarkable coincidence it seemed at -the time, though Kate remembered later that Stella had set out with -tolerable distinctness the time when they expected to be there, with -other details of the Boston visit, that night at the farm. - -After that, he had part in all their excursions, and a charming addition -he made to the party. Stella was a good chaperon, but he was even -better, for he had the _entree_ of a dozen places which they could not -have entered without him, and whether it was acquaintance, or a liberal -use of money, never were more gracious attentions bestowed on a party of -sight-seers. He was really a delightful companion; a good talker, a good -listener, and so perfectly at leisure that he was ready to act on the -slightest hint of anything that interested the others. - -It was a suggestion of Stella's, and a lucky one, as she congratulated -herself, which led to the most unexpected incident of the whole visit. -They had been talking, she and Mr. Hadley, of Copleys, as they walked -through the Boston art gallery, and he had mentioned suddenly that there -was one in his own home; after which came the quick invitation to make a -visit that afternoon to the house on Beacon Street. - -The others accepted with no special emotion, but Stella was radiant, -and, Bostonian as she called herself, it was she who felt most curiosity -when they stood, a few hours later, before the door which bore the name -of Hadley, in the long row of brown stone fronts. The house was closed -for the summer, and Mr. Hadley had made no attempt to open any rooms -except the library, but _this_! It occupied all one side of the long -hall on the second floor; a room filled with books and pictures and -marbles. "A perfect place," as Stella declared, clasping her hands in a -transport of artistic satisfaction. - -There were books on books. Indeed, the Northmore girls, accustomed as -they were to a fair library at home, had not realized that so many books -were ever gathered in one room, outside of public places; and there were -pictures beside pictures. There was a Corot at which the heir of the -house had not even hinted; and the Copley hung beside a celebrated -Millais. Whether the young man most enjoyed the keen appreciation of -Stella, or the frank, delighted wonder of the others, is a question. He -did the honors of the place with the easy indifference of one to the -manner born, and it seemed a mere matter of course, when he called the -attention of his guests to one choice possession after another, to rare -old copies of books and deluxe editions. - -Stella's delight seemed to mount with every moment, but Esther grew so -quiet at last that the others rallied her on her soberness. She flushed -when Stella declared that she looked almost melancholy, and said, with a -glance at the shelves, that one should not be expected to be merry in -such company. - -But, truth to tell, her thoughts had company just then that no other -knew. There had come back to her, oddly perhaps, the memory of a day -when Morton Elwell showed her the shelf of books in his little room. It -was not a handsome shelf--he had made it himself; and the books he had -bought, one after another, with savings which meant wearing the old hat -and the patch on the boots. How proud he was of those books! There was -no easy indifference in his manner as he stood before them with his -shining face, and his hand had almost trembled as he passed it -caressingly over their plain cloth bindings. - -The servant in charge of the house presently answered Mr. Hadley's ring -by bringing up a tray with the daintiest of lunches, and he himself set -steaming the samovar which stood in a cosey corner. He could preside -over pretty china almost as gracefully as Stella herself, when it came -to that. Altogether it was a delectable hour which they spent in that -library, and the girls all said so in their various fashions when they -parted with Mr. Hadley. Esther, perhaps, said it with more feeling than -either of the others. She felt as if she had been part of something she -had dreamed of all her life, and yet--it was almost provoking, too--that -old, insistent memory had half spoiled the dream. - -From Boston to Nahant was the move next on their programme. The place -was in its glory then, one of the prettiest of the seaside resorts; and -for a week they did everything that anybody does at the shore. - -Oh, the delight of it all! The pleasure of sitting on the level sands -and watching the tides creep in and out; the transports and trepidations -of the first dip into the great salt bath, and the unimagined joy of -flying over the bright blue water under sails stretched by a glorious -breeze! If anything _could_ have made Kate waver in her conviction that -her native state was best favored of all in the length and breadth of -the land, it would have been, at moments, the thought of its distance -from the sea; and it was a long, devouring look, almost a tearful look, -that she sent back at the blue expanse when the hour came to leave it. - -The outing had been a complete success, from beginning to end. They were -too tired to talk of it, as they rode on the train back to Esterly. To -look musingly out of the windows was all that any of them cared to do. -But words came fast again as they rode back to the farm with their -grandfather, who was waiting for them, of course, at the depot; and -faster still when, with Tom and Aunt Elsie as listeners, they were all -seated at the family supper. - -"We've had more fun than we expected, positively more," Kate exclaimed, -"and I shall never take a bit of stock again in that idea that thinking -about things beforehand is better than actually having them. It must -have been started by somebody who was too old to enjoy things." - -And her grandfather, after grunting a little over the last clause, and -calling attention to the fact that _he_, at least, had never seen the -time when he could say of any rational enjoyments, "I have no pleasure -in them," was inclined to agree with the sentiment. - -"Things don't turn out just as you expect them to, of course," he -remarked reflectively. "I never knew it to happen that a body didn't -miss _something_ of what he'd counted on, but then, on the other hand, -something's sure to turn up that you warn't looking for, and you must -set one over against the other. There are worse things than old age to -keep folks from enjoying themselves," he added acutely, "and one of them -is being so taken up with yourself that you feel abused if your own -plans don't work out to a T. For my part, I shouldn't wonder if there -was more pleasure to be got out of surprises, anyhow." - -The allusion to unexpected things of course suggested the meeting with -Mr. Hadley, and then followed a full account of all his subsequent -attentions. The old gentleman was delighted, and wished he could have -been with them when they made that visit to the house on Beacon Street, -a wish which it is doubtful whether the girls fully shared. They did not -demur to it, however, nor yet to his evident impression that the young -man's gratitude for the light which had been thrown on the history of -his forefathers had led him to extend these pleasant courtesies to his, -Ruel Saxon's, descendants. - -Tom was the first to suggest the doubt. "Say, did the nabob talk all the -time about his ancestors?" he demanded of Kate, as they sat on the -wood-pile after supper, a perch to which she declared she was glad to -come back after her fortnight's absence. - -"Of course he didn't," she replied. "I don't think he spoke of them -once, except when he showed us some of their portraits in the library." - -"I thought so," said Tom, kicking a birch stick down from the pile, and -sending it with accurate aim against the instrument which he called a -"saw-horse" and she called a "saw-buck." Then, looking her in the eyes, -he asked coolly, "Which of 'em is it, Stelle or Esther?" - -"Both of 'em, I reckon," said Kate, with equal coolness. - -"It'll be one of them in particular if it keeps on like this," said Tom, -"and I'll bet a shilling it'll be Esther." - -For once she did not take up the wager. It had been thrown down between -them so often during the summer that nothing had prevented their both -becoming bankrupt except the standing quarrel as to the amount involved, -Tom maintaining steadily that it was sixteen and two-third cents, one -sixth of a dollar, and she insisting with equal obstinacy that it was -twelve and a half. This time she let it pass. - -"Tom, you're a goose," she said severely; and then she added: "I suppose -you don't think it's possible that he's at all impressed with _me_. I'd -like to have you know that we had a great deal of conversation. Why"--she -threw a shade of weariness into her voice--"I had to go over most of the -ground that I've been going over with you ever since I came. We had _r_ -up, of course. I really could not help speaking of it. One would think -there was something actually profane about that poor little letter, the -way the Bostonians avoid using it. And when I'd fairly made out my case, -and he couldn't deny it, he had to pretend, just as you do, that we -Westerners make too much of it, when we don't at all; and as if _that_ -was any answer!" - -"The way you do," observed Tom, sympathetically, "when I show you that -you folks mix up the wills and shalls so there's no telling which from -t'other, and you get back at me by declaring that we say 'hadn't ought' -and a few things of that sort." - -And then they fell to it again in the old fashion, Kate protesting the -absolute incapacity of the average mind for grasping the fine -distinctions between those two auxiliaries, which, thank Heaven, have -still not wholly lost their special uses on our Eastern coast, and -finally, after various thrusts at local usage, ending with the charge -that New Englanders more than dwellers in the West are guilty of -dropping from their speech the final _g_, a point on which the impartial -listener might possibly have thought that she had a little the best of -it. - -And while the good-natured dispute went on, another and more important -conversation was being held in the house on the old county road, where -Esther sat with Aunt Katharine in the growing twilight. She had slipped -away from her grandfather's as soon as supper was over to make the call. -There had been so many of these calls since her three days' visit there -that no one was surprised at them any more or offered to accompany her. -It was recognized by all that there was something of genuine intimacy -between these two, an intimacy at which every one smiled except Kate, -whose dislike of her lonely old relative seemed to increase with her -sister's fondness. - -Aunt Katharine had heard the click of the gate as the girl came up, and -for once she had hobbled down the walk to greet a guest. There was -almost a hungry look in her eyes as they searched the bright young face, -and her brother had not inquired more eagerly than she for the -particulars of the trip. And Esther went over it all, with a cheery -pleasure that warmed her listener's heart, talking as she might have -talked to her mother of the things she had seen and felt, gayly, without -reserve, and sure always of the interest of the other. - -It was a rare hour to Aunt Katharine. Not in years had any fresh young -life brought its happiness so willingly to her, and her heart responded -with a glow and fulness like the sudden out-leaping of a brook in the -spring. - -At the last Esther had said, a little wistfully, that she was glad these -days had come so late in this summer visit. It was almost ended now, but -its climax of pleasure had been reached, and the memory of it would be a -joy forever. - -"Do you have to go back, both of you, the first of September?" Aunt -Katharine asked suddenly. "Why couldn't _you_ stay a while longer? They -don't need you at home for anything special, do they?" - -The idea took definite shape as she caught the outlines of it, and her -keen eyes kindled. "You like things here better 'n Kate does, and you're -older. S'pose you should stay at the farm and see what a New England -fall is like--you can't know your mother's country without knowing -that--and then spend the winter in Boston with Stella. She'd like it, and -she'd let you into a lot of things you want to know about. I never cared -much for pictures and music and such, but you do; and you or' to have a -taste of 'em while you're young." - -She paused, and Esther said with a gasp: "Oh, that would be glorious, -glorious! But the expense of it, Aunt Katharine! Father couldn't -possibly afford to let me do it, and I couldn't pay my own way, you -know, as Stella does." - -"I wasn't counting on your father's bearing the expense, nor you -either," said Miss Saxon, dryly. "I guess I could afford to do that much -for you, and a few other things too, if you took a notion to 'em." And -then a tenderer note crept into her voice as she added, "I missed most -of the things I wanted when I was a girl, and I'd like to make sure of -it that _you_ fared better." - -There was no talking for a minute or two after that. The delights that -seemed to open before Esther through the avenues of this plan almost -took her breath away, and the generosity that proposed it made her eyes -dim with tears. It was Aunt Katharine, not she, who could discuss it -coolly, and to the old woman the thought seemed to grow every moment -dearer. There were friends of hers in Boston--not Stella's friends, she -added, with a peculiar smile--people who would be good to Esther for her -sake. Perhaps Esther would come to feel toward them as she herself did, -and then she looked at the girl for a moment as if taking her measure -with reference to something larger than she knew. - -The dew was falling and the whippoorwills were calling across the hills -through the twilight that had deepened almost into night when Esther -rose at last to go home. She had never kissed Aunt Katharine before, but -the old woman drew her face down to hers and held it for an instant as -she bade her good night. Then she said almost brusquely:-- - -"You'd better hurry home now. They'll think I've lost my wits entirely -to be keeping you so long. And you've got that letter to write to your -mother. Tell her everything, and be sure it goes in the morning." - -And Esther, with feet almost as light as the wings of the night birds, -hurried across the fields to tell the surprising news to the two -circles--the household at home, and the one at her grandfather's. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK - - -It was a long letter that went to Mrs. Northmore the next morning. -Indeed, there were three; for Stella, in her delight over the prospect -of keeping Esther, filled a sheet with an ecstatic picture of the joys -which a winter in Boston would surely furnish, and Ruel Saxon supplied -another, impressing upon his daughter his own deep satisfaction in the -thought of having one of her children with him a little longer, and -adding tenderly that since she herself went out of the home so long ago, -no young presence there had been as dear and comforting to him as this -of Esther. - -He had been amazed when the girl brought the news of Aunt Katharine's -proposal, and certainly nothing in his sister's behavior for years had -pleased him as much. He visited her promptly the next morning to assure -her of his approval, and congratulate her (as he told Aunt Elsie) on -having for once acted with such eminent good sense. But either he did -not do it in the most tactful manner, or he found his sister in an -unfortunate mood, for it appeared from his own account of it that, after -the brightest preliminaries, she had proceeded to air her most obnoxious -views; views which, as he pensively declared, he had smitten hip and -thigh and put utterly to rout more than once; and he ended his report of -the interview with an expression of irritated wonder as to how so -amiable a girl as Esther Northmore ever came to be a favorite with her -Aunt Katharine Saxon. - -But there was one person who found it even harder than he to understand -the partiality. This was Kate; and in her the wonder was mingled with a -sort of resentment which she could not throw off. She alone of the -household had not rejoiced when her sister came in that night with the -announcement of the invitation which seemed to her such great good -fortune. There was no touch of envy in it. To the exclamation of all, -"If Kate could only stay, too!" she had responded with perfect honesty, -"I don't want to. I've had a splendid time here; but I'm about ready to -go home now, and I wouldn't stay away longer than we planned if I -could." - -It was none of her business perhaps,--she said it to herself again and -again,--but she did not like the growing influence which Aunt Katharine -was gaining over Esther. It did not matter so much while the intimacy -was thought to be only passing, and going home lay in the near distance, -but to leave her sister behind, within touch of this masterful spirit, -and all the more open to her influence through receiving her favors, -_this_ was a prospect before which Kate chafed with a growing -uneasiness. That thing which Tom had told her so long ago, which had -only amused her then, that Aunt Katharine had said she would leave her -money to that one of her female relatives who would promise never to -marry, came back to her now to vex and trouble her. That the woman would -definitely make so bald a proposal, or that the girl would definitely -accept it, were suggestions which at moments seemed too foolish to -entertain; she could brush them aside with scorn; and then, in some new -form, they would come creeping back. If not a definite proposal, a -formal promise, there might be tacit understanding, something which -would rest upon the girl and bind her as subtly as any pledge. Poor -Kate! She could not even understand her own state of mind. Was it love -of Esther? Was it thought of Morton Elwell, and a haunting sense of a -hope which she felt sure he carried deep in his heart? Or was it simply -the revolt of a spirit as stout as Aunt Katharine's own against the -possibility of any bondage, for her sister as for herself? - -As the days went on--the days before the letter came from home which -finally settled the question--she grew restless and depressed. Even the -disputes with Tom fell off, and he rallied her sometimes on her lack of -spirit. - -"I believe it's the notion of going West again that makes you so down in -the mouth, for all you pretend you're so keen to go," he said to her -once, as they were tramping home in the late afternoon from the -wood-lot, where they had gone in search of sassafras. - -She tossed her head. "You know better," she said, "and between ourselves -and the post you aren't so very lively yourself lately. I believe you'd -like to go home with me and grow up with the West a while." - -They exchanged a good-natured laugh. There was no denying that there -were moments when the thought of parting with his cousin Kate really -depressed Tom Saxon. She had the next word, and she said it with -unaffected seriousness. - -"Honestly, Tom, I don't know what ails me. If I could have a good -out-and-out cry I believe I could get over it; but there isn't anything -really to cry about. I'll tell you how I do sometimes at home, when I -feel blue. I get down Dickens, and read, the death of little Nell, or -how they killed Sydney Carton, or something awfully harrowing like that, -you know, and then I have it out and feel better. But you haven't got -Dickens here," she added ruefully. - -"Grandfather's got Foxe's 'Book of Martyrs,'" said Tom, grinning, and -then he added, in a tone of curiosity, "Do _you_ cry over books?" It was -a feminine weakness which he had not suspected of Kate. - -"Cry!" she repeated. "Yes, I do; and I don't care who knows it. I'll -tell you how I got through 'Nicholas Nickleby.' It used me up so every -time I read how Squeers treated those poor fellows in his school that I -couldn't stand it. Well, I knew he got his come-up-ance from Nicholas in -the end, so every time I read one of those mean places, I'd just turn -ahead and read how Nicholas flogged him. I reckon I must have read that -scene a dozen times before I fairly came to it, and it did me more good -every time. I believe that story would have killed me if I hadn't." - -There was plenty of fight in Kate. Tom had known that for some time. -That there were tears, too, need not have surprised any one but a boy, -and he liked her none the less for it. She gave a long sigh, and came -back to her own troubles. The sympathetic tone in which Tom said, "I -wish I could do something for you," was a comfort in itself, and the -need of talking to some one drew her on. - -"Right down at the bottom of it, Tom, I suppose it's the thought of -going home without Esther; and yet it isn't because I hate to leave her -behind. I shall miss her, of course; but I could stand that. She was off -at school a whole year and I didn't pine for her so dreadfully much. -But--but it's Aunt Katharine! Tom, I can't bear to have Esther get so -intimate with Aunt Katharine." - -She had actually said it now, and for the rest of the way home she -poured out her heart with a girlish freedom. Perhaps her feelings grew -more clear to herself as she tried to make them plain to him. He -understood better than she expected, and fully agreed with her as to the -undesirability of Aunt Katharine's "making a slave of Esther"; but he -thought her fears on this point much exaggerated, and it was good advice -that he gave her as they neared the house. - -"If I was in your place I wouldn't worry about it. I guess Aunt -Katharine's got some sense if she _is_ so cranky. And Esther's old -enough to know what she's about. Just leave her alone to get sick of -some of those notions herself before she's done with 'em, and you ease -up on the fretting. It doesn't do a bit of good, anyhow." - -She really meant to "ease up." Tom's opinion on the last point was -distinctly sound, but the old disquiet had possession of her again -within five minutes from the time that conversation ended. The letter -had come from home--she learned it as she entered the house--giving hearty -consent that Esther should remain in New England, and the girl was -already off to carry the word to Aunt Katharine. She had said she would -be back soon, but no one really expected it, and supper was over before -they saw her coming across the fields. Kate, who was watching, saw her -first, and slipping out of the house hurried to meet her. - -She had brought happy thoughts from Aunt Katharine's, happy and serious -too, it would seem from the look in her face, and they occupied her so -intently that she had almost met her sister before she saw her coming. -Then she put out both her hands with an eager greeting. - -"I'm so glad you've come," she said. "I wanted to talk it over a little -by ourselves." She slipped her arm through Kate's, and turned back into -the darkening fields. "You weren't surprised at what the letter said, -were you? I was sorry you weren't there when it came; but I had to take -it down to Aunt Katharine, for it was partly to her, and I couldn't -wait." - -"No, I wasn't surprised. I felt sure they'd let you stay," said Kate, -and then she added, "I do hope you'll have a good time, Esther, and -enjoy everything as much as you expect to." - -She had made an effort to speak heartily, but there was such a sober -note in her voice that Esther's face clouded, and she looked quickly at -her sister. "If you were only going to be here too, Kate, it would be -perfect," she said. "I shall be wishing all the way along that you were -in the good times with me. And if you hadn't said so positively that you -wanted to go home, I should have felt like proposing to Aunt Katharine -to cut my time in Boston in two and let us be there together for a -little while." - -"I shouldn't have thanked you for it if you had," said Kate, a sudden -impatience leaping into her voice. Then, with a bitterness she ought to -have kept down, she added, "I don't like Aunt Katharine, and I don't -want her favors." - -The look in Esther's face changed. "You don't do Aunt Katharine justice, -Kate," she said. "Nobody does here. She isn't hateful and hard-hearted, -as you all seem to think. She's good and kind and true--oh, so true! I -believe she'd do more and give more than any other person I ever saw to -bring about what she thinks is right. I don't know, I'm sure, how she -came to like me, but I know why I like her. I admire her and I love her, -and there's nobody in the world I'd rather take a favor from than Aunt -Katharine." - -Kate set her teeth hard. She had prejudiced everything she had meant to -say by the heat with which she had spoken. She was silent a moment, then -she said almost piteously: "I don't wonder she likes you. But I may as -well be honest, Esther; I do hate to see her getting such an influence -over you. It's all well enough to admire her for standing up for her own -opinions, but I don't see how _you_ can fall in with some of them. I -don't see how you can bear it to hear her talk so bitterly against the -ways we've always been used to. And especially I don't see how you can -stand it to hear her run down the men as she does." - -"I don't agree with all her opinions," said Esther, quickly, "but I can -see how she comes to hold them, and she doesn't always talk as harshly -as you think. But it isn't her opinions any way; it's her own self that -I care about." - -"And you'll end by wanting to look at everything just as she does, -because you like her so much and feel so indebted to her," said Kate. -Then, with an accent that was fairly tragic, she added: "Oh, she knows -it, she knows it, and that's what she wants to keep you here for! She'll -end by wanting you never to marry, and offering to leave you all her -money if you'll promise not to do it." - -Esther drew her arm away from her sister, and the flush that swept over -her face was plain even in the twilight. "I think you'd better leave all -that to Aunt Katharine and me. It doesn't strike me as coming under your -charge," she said proudly. And then the coldness in her voice melted -with a sudden heat as she added: "But suppose I _should_ come to see -things as she does--suppose I _should_ come to take a different view of -life from what I did once, what then? I'll go where my honest -convictions lead me. It's my right and my duty, and I shall do it." - -It sounded very brave and solemn in the twilight. A whippoorwill from -the woods behind Aunt Katharine's house had the only word that followed, -and he called it across the stillness with a long soft cadence that -sounded like a wail. - -They turned their faces to the house and walked toward it without -speaking. It was a relief to both when Stella came out to meet them. - -"I thought you were never coming," she said to Esther. "Dear me, I shall -be glad when I get you in Boston, with Aunt Katharine too far away to -use her magnet on you." - -A half hour later Kate was in conference with Tom again. She had called -him into the shadows of the barn, and her voice was almost a whisper as -she said:-- - -"Tom, I want you to wake me up to-morrow morning when you come down to -do the milking. I'm going to make a call before breakfast." - -Tom gave a low whistle. "At that time in the morning! Where are you -going?" he demanded. - -"To Aunt Katharine's," she said. - -Tom gave another whistle, this time a louder one. "Great Scott!" he -ejaculated. "So you're going to keep it right up, are you?" - -"I'm going to keep it up till I've had one good square talk with her," -said Kate, with decision. "Very likely it's none of my business,--you've -told me that, and so has Esther,--but she's tremendously clear that she's -got to follow her conscience where it leads her, and mine leads _me_ -right down there to Aunt Katharine's. I can't go home without doing it, -and there's only a week longer for me to stay, so I may as well take -time by the forelock." - -"I should think it was taking time by the forelock with a vengeance to -go down there at five o'clock. Why don't you go at a reasonable hour?" -growled Tom. - -Kate was losing patience. "Because I don't want Esther to know I'm -going," she said. "If I go later she might happen to come in while I'm -there, or she might ask me where I'd been. No, I've made up my mind to -go before breakfast, and all you have to do is to wake me up." - -"I'd like to know how I'm going to do it without waking her, too," he -said. - -"Oh, I'll fix that part," she replied, beginning to smile a little. "Of -course you can't pound on the door; but I've got a trick worth two of -that. I'll tie a string round my wrist and let the end hang out of the -window. Then, when you come by, you can pull it and that'll wake me up. -I waked a girl that way once, on Fourth of July (only the string was -round her ankle), and she slept so like a log that she said I almost -pulled her out of the window before she was fairly awake. But you -needn't be afraid of pulling me out. Just give a twitch and I shall feel -it. I sleep on the front side." - -"All right," said Tom, and then he could not help adding, "but I'll tell -you now that your going down there won't do a bit of good, and you'd -better keep out of it." - -"It'll do _me_ good to free my mind," said Kate. "And after that I mean -to take your advice, Tom, and quit worrying." - -The allusion to his advice was gratifying. Tom agreed to administer the -twitch at half-past four the next morning, and they separated, feeling -like a pair of conspirators, Kate at least clear in the opinion that she -was conspiring for the good of humanity. - -She lay awake so long that night, turning in her mind what she would say -to Aunt Katharine, and never getting it settled, for the singular reason -that she could never foresee what Aunt Katharine would say next, that it -seemed to her she had not been asleep at all when there came the -appointed signal in the cool of the morning. For a moment she had a -passing dream that some one was trying to amputate her hand with a -wood-saw, then it all came back to her. Her eyes flew open, and she -crept stealthily out of bed. A flutter of the curtain showed Tom she was -astir, but after that there was as little flutter as possible. - -She slipped into her clothes as noiselessly as a ghost, with fearful -glances at Esther, who slept on in serene oblivion of the plot against -her, carried her shoes in her hand to the foot of the stairs, and went -out through the kitchen, where even Aunt Elsie had not yet made her -appearance. At the barn she paused a minute for a word with Tom and a -cup of new milk, then flew down the lane, anxious still lest some one, -looking unseasonably from the house, should see her, till the bend of -the first hill hid her from view. - -Some one has acutely remarked that people who break their usual habits -by rising very early in the morning are apt to be a little conceited in -the first part of the day and somewhat stupid in the last. There was -certainly no lack of self-assurance in Kate Northmore, as she took that -walk across the dewy fields, with the fresh air blowing on her face, and -the twitter of birds sounding from the woods. Not till she actually -stood at Aunt Katharine's threshold was there any tremor of her nerves -or any flutter at her heart. - -Miss Saxon herself answered the knock, and a look of something like -alarm came into her face as she saw the caller. "Is anybody sick at your -house?" she asked quickly. - -Kate had not foreseen the question. "No," she said, taken a little -aback. "Nobody's sick, but I wanted to see you, and I thought I'd come -early." - -"I should think so," ejaculated the old woman, her face relaxing into a -grim sort of a smile. "Well, come in and se' down." - -She had no notion of preparing the way for the announcement of a -pressing errand, or of hindering it by any observations of her own, and -she took the chair opposite Kate's with her hands clasped on the top of -her cane, waiting in perfect silence for the girl to begin. - -Kate's heart began to thump now, and her mouth felt suddenly dry. "I'm -going home in a week," she said, "and I--I wanted to talk about something -with you before I went." And then suddenly she stopped. There was a -queer sort of clutch at her throat, and for a minute she could not go -on. - -The old woman's eyebrows bent themselves into a puzzled frown. "Well," -she said at last, "you hain't favored me with much of your company this -summer. If you've got any particular reason for coming now, I s'pose you -know what 'tis." - -The sharpness of her tone brought Kate back to herself. "Yes'm I do," -she said, "and it's about Esther. You've asked her to stay here and -she's going to do it--no, I don't want to stay myself,"--she threw in -quickly. "I'm ready to go home; but _she_ wants to. She thinks it's -glorious." And then she stopped again, that unaccountable clutch at the -throat coming for a second time. - -"And you don't want her to do it? Is that what you're driving at?" said -Aunt Katharine. She was in no mood now for delays. - -"I should just as lief she'd do it as not--I want her to have a good -time," cried Kate, "if--if you only wouldn't try to make her think as you -do about some things." - -It was out now, and the clutch at her throat relaxed. - -"Oh," said Miss Saxon. There was a volume of meaning in the monosyllable -as she spoke it, and then her face grew cold and sharp as an icicle. -"What things?" - -It was really a pity that Kate was not better informed as to her aunt's -peculiar views. But she caught at the one which had offended her most, -and thrust it forward roughly. "About hating everything, especially the -men," she cried, "and not wanting girls to be married. They say you want -to leave your money to somebody who'll promise to stay single all her -life." - -Miss Saxon started, and a faint pink color rose in her cheeks, old and -wrinkled as they were. "Did your sister tell you that?" she demanded. - -"No," said Kate, "I don't know as she ever heard of it till I told her. -I told her last night, and how I felt about it, too." - -"And she said--?" queried Miss Saxon. The pink was still in her cheeks. - -"Well," said Kate--she hesitated a moment and then looked straight at the -questioner--"she as good as said it was none of my business, and she'd do -what she thought was right whatever came of it." - -"Ah!" said Aunt Katharine, with an accent of relief. "And I presume you -didn't tell her that you were coming here this morning. I see now why -you came so early." She looked at her niece with a faint sarcastic -smile, then said coldly, "I am very fond of your sister." - -The words sounded somehow like a threat. The blood mounted in Kate's -face, and she clinched her hands on the sides of her chair. "I know it," -she said, "and so is every one else fond of her. Grandfather likes her -just as much as you do. Perhaps it's new for you to care for a girl as -you care for her, but it's no new thing for Esther. It's been the way -ever since she was little." - -The bearing of the fact on Kate's ground of quarrel with her aunt was -perhaps not clear, but some fine wrinkles gathered in Miss Saxon's -forehead. - -"And does Esther like everybody?" she asked, with a returning sharpness. - -"She keeps it to herself if she doesn't," said Kate. "She's kind to -everybody--most everybody," she added, with a sudden remembrance of the -one person to whom Esther had not of late seemed always kind. "And -that's how she gets into trouble, making everybody like her, with her -soft pleasant ways and saying nice things. Oh, I've had to stand up for -her so many times to keep her from being imposed on! I'm standing up for -her now," she went on passionately. "It's your _ideas_ you care about, -and you want her to take up with them, whether they'll make her happy or -not. But I care for _her_, and I want to make you stop." - -The old woman's face had grown as tense as a drawn bow. "So you think my -ideas are getting hold of her, do you?" she asked. - -"_She_ thinks they are," cried Kate, "but I don't believe it. I believe -it's just because she thinks so much of you. But if she _should_ come to -feel as you do about all those things, what good would it do? She -couldn't fight for them. Do you think there's any fight in Esther -Northmore?" She threw out her hand with an impatient gesture. "Oh, they -say you're so clever! But you're not clever at all if you think _that_. -She'd bear things till they broke her heart before she'd fight." - -Miss Saxon's lips were drawn tight, and her eyes narrowed to a bright -dark line, as if these side-lights that Kate had been throwing on -Esther's character had blinded her a little. She did not speak for a -moment, and the girl went on hotly, even fiercely. - -"You talk about wanting women to be so free and independent, but you -want to bind Esther to those ideas of yours and make her carry them out. -I'll tell you what would be the end of it if she should come into your -plan. She'd stand by what she promised, but 'twould kill her. She's made -for loving, and for caring about the things we've always cared about, -and she wouldn't be happy any other way. She isn't that kind." - -Aunt Katharine's lips parted now. They seemed to be as dry as Kate's had -been a little while ago. She leaned forward on her cane and asked a -question slowly. "You pretend to know so much about your sister, tell -me, do you think there's anybody she cares for now?" - -Kate dropped her head for a moment, but it was no time for evasions. The -excitement and strain of the situation were too much for her at last. -"No, I don't," she said, with the tears springing into her eyes. "But -there's somebody that cares a sight for her; and if she should ever come -to care for him she'd be a thousand times happier than she'd ever be -with anything _you_ could do for her. Oh, if you should make her -promise--if you should leave your money to her--I should hate you as long -as I live, and she would hate you, too, after a while." - -Miss Katharine Saxon rose from her seat. She had not been as straight in -years, but she trembled from head to foot as she stood there facing the -girl. - -"Katharine Northmore,--for you're my namesake, if you do hate me,--" she -said slowly, "you've said enough. You took upon yourself to do a very -impertinent thing when you came down here to give instructions to me. I -shall walk by the light I've got, and do my duty as I see it, by myself -and your sister too. Now go home. And you needn't be afraid I shall tell -Esther you were here. I shan't shame her nor myself by ever speaking of -it." - -But when she was left alone she sank back in her chair, and there was -almost a sob in her voice as she said, "If it were only _that_ girl who -saw things as I see them!" - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -INTO THE WEST AGAIN - - -The good cry which Kate had been longing for came before she got back to -her grandfather's that morning. She took it with a girlish abandon, -sitting on the meadow bridge. Then she rose up, bathed her face in the -brook and went on her way, half ashamed of what she had done, half -wondering that she had dared to do it, and wholly glad that it was over. -Tom was waiting for her at the bars below the barn. It helped the -appearance of things that she should go in with him to breakfast, and, -though he would have scorned to own it, Tom had a healthy curiosity as -to the outcome of this interview with Aunt Katharine. - -Kate's report of it was meagre; but the impression was left on his mind -that she had gotten rather the worst of it, especially as she made no -concealment of the fact that she had been summarily dismissed at the -end. She owned frankly that she had been crying, and then showed plainly -that the spirit of controversy was not dead in her yet by the reckless -manner in which she threw in her "Westernisms" and defended them during -the rest of their talk. On the whole, Tom felt relieved as to her state -of mind, and they went into the house quarrelling in the most natural -manner; she having remarked that Aunt Katharine's fierce manner didn't -"faze" her after she got started, and he protesting that there was no -such word in the dictionary. He maintained his point as far as the old -Webster in the house was concerned, but she at least proved that her -word came of good respectable stock, and stood firm on the proposition -that it _ought_ to be there if it wasn't. - -It was the last time for many a day that Kate spoke to any one of that -morning's adventure. Not a suspicion of it dawned on Esther. The talk -between the sisters the night before had been too nearly a quarrel for -either of them to wish to reopen the subject which had so disturbed -them, and it was out of consideration for Kate's uneasiness over the -intimacy with Aunt Katharine that Esther went to her house less often -than usual during the next few days. But indeed it was not easy during -the week that was left of Kate's stay at her grandfather's for either of -the girls to find time for anything except the pleasurings which always -crowd the last days of a visit. Everything which had been omitted before -must be done now, and there were all the little gifts to be prepared for -the family at home, tokens of special meaning for each one, and for Mrs. -Northmore most of all. - -She had asked for a piece of flag-root from the old spot in the meadow, -and enough was dug to satisfy her appetite for years, Aunt Elsie -preserving some of it in sugar, just as the grandmother used to in the -old days, when children carried bits of it to church in their pockets to -keep them awake during sermon time. She had mentioned an apple from the -crooked tree in the lane, whose seeds always shook in their core like a -rattlebox by the first of September, and every apple which ripened on -the old farm in the summer had a place in Kate's trunk. There were -odors, too, which she loved; odors of pine, and sweet fern, and life -everlasting, to be gathered and sewed into silken bags and pillows; and -there was a little bunch--Aunt Elsie tucked it in--of dried hardhack and -catnip and spearmint. - -"I don't suppose she ever steeped those things for her own babies, being -a doctor's wife," she said; "but she knew the taste of them when she was -a baby herself, and I guess it'll bring back the old garret to her, and -the bunches that hung from the rafters when she and I used to play there -on rainy days." - -Such were the chief events of that last week, but there was one other of -some importance, a call from Mr. Philip Hadley, who did not come this -time to inquire for his ancestors, but very distinctly for the young -ladies, and the fact that their grandfather was absent did not prevent -his making a decidedly long call. He seemed extremely interested in all -their doings since he saw them last, and the look of pleasure with which -he heard the announcement that Esther was to spend the winter in Boston -would have convinced Tom, had he seen it, of the correctness of an -opinion he had lately expressed to Kate. It did not affect her, however. -It was no young man with soft white hands, but only a grim old woman, -whose influence she feared for her sister. - -So the days went by, swift, hurrying days, and brought the morning of -Kate's departure. Tom would have liked to go with her to the depot, but -it was the grandfather, with the girls, of course, who made the trip. -They said good-by to each other in a last interview at the barn, and -though each tried to be gay and off-hand, the effort was not very -successful. They made solemn compact to write to each other often, Tom -for his part agreeing to keep his "eye peeled" for any developments -concerning Esther, and Kate for hers promising to "watch out" for -anything that could interest him in affairs at the West. - -"You must come out and see us, Tom," she said earnestly. "I want to show -you everything, and make you like our part of the country as well as--as -well as I like this. Your ways are different from ours, of course; but -I've got a lot of new ideas, and I've had an awfully good time with you, -Tom. I didn't know I _could_ feel so bad to go away." - -"I guess I should like it out your way too," said Tom, turning his head -as if it were not quite safe to look into her eyes at that moment, "and -perhaps sometime I can come. I guess it's good for folks to see -something besides their own things, and--I _know_ I should like it out -West if _you_ were there." - -And then they parted, each of them having apparently some trouble with -the throat just then, and Tom drawing his sleeve across his eyes in a -suspicious manner as he walked down the lane. - -"The Lord bless and keep you and cause His face to shine upon you," Ruel -Saxon said solemnly as he bade the girl good-by at the depot. - -It was the last word before the train pulled out, for Esther's heart was -full, and she could say no more after sending her love for the -thousandth time to them all at home. And then the beautiful New England -village, with its lovely homes and shaded streets, faded from Kate's -sight; the hills and the little fields, crossed by the old stone walls, -rushed past her, and it was the wide green stretches of the home country -for which the eyes of her heart were straining as she flew on into the -West. - -It was a great day for the family when she reached home. The doctor was -at the depot, impatient as a boy over the three minutes' delay in the -train that brought her in, and he almost forgot to secure her trunk, or -set her bag into the carriage, in his delight at seeing her. - -"Well, I believe they must have treated you pretty well back there," he -said, pinching her cheek. And he would have had her on the scales before -she left the depot if she had not protested that she could not spare a -second getting weighed. - -"I shall lose a pound for every minute we waste getting home," she -cried, jumping into the carriage; and at this he laughed, and putting -the reins into her hands, told her to get the gray filly over the ground -as fast as she pleased. How they did go dashing down the road, and what -wonder that excitement was rife in the town that afternoon as to what -member of the community was lying at the point of death that the doctor -was going at such a rate to see him! - -They were on the porch to greet her when she pulled up at the door, Mrs. -Northmore and Virgie, with Aunt Milly gorgeous in her best cap and -kerchief at the rear; and such a hugging and kissing, such a laughing -and crying followed as might have made one wonder what _would_ have -happened if the girl had stayed away a year instead of a single summer. - -It was good to be back--so good; she realized it more with every minute, -and the trite old saying that the best part of going away from home is -coming back again appealed to her as never before. The trunk was -unpacked with all the household gathered round, but no one, not even -Mrs. Northmore, daring to help, lest some precious token, tucked safely -in by Kate's own hand, should be drawn prematurely from its corner or -shaken unwarily from the folds of a dress. Oh, the joy of drawing them -out, one after another, and the bursts of delight with which they were -received! - -Virgie skipped about the room in glee over the trinkets which had been -brought to her from Boston and the sea; Dr. Northmore declared he must -have coffee made at once to give him a chance of using the beautiful cup -which Stella had painted with just such blossoming honeysuckles as grew -over the door from which he had carried away his bride; Aunt Milly stood -agape over the glories of the black silk apron which her young ladies -had embroidered for her in figures of the gayest colors--Jack Horner -enjoying his Christmas pie in one corner, Miss Muffet frightened from -her curds by the wicked black spider in another, and the muffin man with -his tray on his head stalking proudly between; while as for Mrs. -Northmore, she sat like a little child, her lap filling with treasures, -nibbling now and then at the flag-root, or burying her face in those -dear old odors, and lifting it again with smiles shining through the -tears in her eyes. - -Not till the very bottom of the trunk had been reached was it emptied of -its last gift, and then there was plenty of need for the mother's help; -for the putting away of her scattered wardrobe was a task to which Kate -could not quiet her excited nerves. She was almost too happy to eat, but -the supper Aunt Milly had made ready would have put the edge of appetite -on satiety itself. - -"Why, Aunt Milly, a body'd think I was a regular prodigal, to have such -a feast as this set out for me," she declared, at the close of the meal, -when it seemed as if every one of her favorite dainties had been heaped -upon her plate in turn, but the old woman shook her head at this with -emphasis. - -"No ye ain't, honey," she said, "your Aunt Milly never did have no use -for prodigals" (she would probably not have recognized any member of her -family in that character, however he might have wasted his substance), -"but I allers did 'low that them that's a comfort to you were the ones -to fix for. 'Pears to me that was a terrible mean-spirited man in the -Bible that never let 'em set out a kid or anything for the boy that was -so good 'n' steady. _I'd_ have done it, if I'd been cookin' for 'em, -sure nuff I would." - -It was, perhaps, the devoted old servant who had pined most for Kate's -return, and it was certainly she who was most anxious to have the girl -all to herself now that she had fairly come. Mrs. Northmore could wait. -The things she cared most to know would be learned best in the -unsolicited confidences of the days that were coming, and she feigned -some errand for herself in the edge of evening which gave the girl a -chance to sit for a little while in the kitchen, with the old woman -questioning her and crooning over her out of the depths of an abounding -love. - -"We've missed you powerful bad, honey," she said, rocking back and -forth, with her eyes fixed in a beaming content on the girl's face. -"'Spect they didn't put much of it into the letters, but I tell you your -ma's been mighty lonesome some of the time. I could see it, if the rest -couldn't; and your pa--you could tell how _he_ felt by the way he fretted -if the letters didn't come jes' so often. And 'tween you 'n' me he -didn't like it much to have Esther stay all winter, only your ma worked -him round, the way she has, you know. Bless your heart, if they'd wanted -_you_ to stay too, dunno what would 'a' happened to us. 'Spect this yer -ole woman would 'a' been dead 'n' gone before spring. I've been pinin' -for you all summer." - -"But I shouldn't have stayed if they had wanted me," Kate said -cheerfully, and then she added with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, -"but really, Aunt Milly, you don't look as if you had been pining. It -rather seems to me you've grown a little stouter since we went away." - -"Laws now, Miss Kate," cried Aunt Milly, "that's jes' some o' your -jokin'." Then, smoothing her ample front with an uneasy expression, she -added beseechingly: "But you can't tell by the looks o' folks what's -goin' on inside of 'em. I was powerful puny a spell back. Your pa'll -tell you how much medicine he giv' me." Then, her face brightening -again: "But you or' to see the way I began to pick up when the day was -set for you to come home. 'Peared like the misery jes' cleared out of -itself, an' I reckon I did get back the flesh I lost, with maybe a -little more," she ended serenely. - -"Well, I hope the misery'll stay away for good, now I've come," said -Kate, laughing. The sound of voices in the hall told her that a bevy of -friends had come to welcome her home, and with another smile at Milly -she was off to meet them, and to begin all over again the account of her -beautiful summer. - -The warmth with which the Western town greets its returning children is -one of the pleasant things to have known in one's journey through life. -For the next few days Kate's time was full, responding to the welcome of -her friends, asking and answering questions, and adjusting herself again -to her own place. - -There was one friend for whom she inquired early, and of him Mrs. Elwell -brought the fullest report when she brought her own greeting to the girl -next morning. Morton had hardly been at home all summer. He had been -busy, first at one thing, then another, as Kate knew, and now--it was -quite a sudden move--he was with an engineering party in an adjoining -county. It seemed he had given some special attention to surveying -during the last year in college, and, like everything else he gave his -mind to, had it so well in hand that it turned to his use and advantage. -The work would keep him a few weeks longer, which would make him late in -getting back to school, but the pay was so good he had felt he must make -the most of his chance. She gave one of those little sighs which every -one understood when she talked of her nephew, and then her face -brightened as she added, "But he'll certainly come home before he goes -back to college, and we shall see him before so very long." - -At which Kate's face brightened too. There was no one now whom she -wanted so much to see as Morton Elwell. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE NABOB MAKES AN IMPRESSION - - -It was a divided stream in which the current of our story flowed during -the days that followed, and a quiet stream it seemed at first after the -dash and sparkle of the summer. A week more and Kate was busy with her -books again, beginning her last year in the Rushmore High School. Tom -Saxon was in school too, and Stella had flitted back to Boston, ready to -settle down in that pretty studio of hers, with her art and her pupils. -Esther alone was at leisure, but even for her the time passed swiftly. -Aunt Elsie gave her a willing share in the light work of the household, -and her grandfather claimed her more and more as a companion in all his -goings, and a listener to his tales in the lengthening evenings. - -Then there were the visits to Aunt Katharine, and few were the days in -which they were omitted. The sight of the girl always brought a smile to -the face of the lonely old woman. She was, if possible, more kind than -ever, and yet, though Esther could not have explained it, she felt with -a puzzled wonder that there was somehow a difference. Not for long had -Aunt Katharine talked in the old passionate way of those peculiar views -which she held so dear and vital. She seemed less eager than once to -impress them, and Esther noted it, resenting more and more that fancy of -her sister's that the proud-spirited old woman would have taken undue -advantage of her influence, or have wished to put compulsion on -another's life and thought. - -It was a pity Kate did not know the true state of the case. As it was -she sent an anxious thought every now and then in the direction of Aunt -Katharine, and shook her fist, metaphorically speaking, in the face of -those ideas which she imagined her to be always urging. In regard to -anything else she refused to be solicitous over her sister, though Tom, -who actually wrote a letter once a week for the first month, did his -best to disturb her. The "nabob" was not only calling oftener than -ever,--and this in the absence of Stella,--but the grandfather and Esther -had been invited to visit at his summer home in Hartridge, a visit which -they had made, and, according to reports on their return, enjoyed -immensely. - -"You can pay your money and take your choice, of course," Tom wrote -derisively at the end of this interesting news, which he sent in advance -of Esther herself, "but it's ancestors _or_ Esther, you can count on -that. Maybe the young men out your way care more about their -great-great-grandfathers than they do about girls, but in this part of -the country it would be safer to bet on the girl." - -Kate sniffed at this, and responded promptly that the young men in her -part of the country, so far as she was acquainted with them, didn't -trouble themselves about their great-great-grandfathers at all; and the -mental workings of one who gave his time to the business--as Mr. Hadley -certainly did in the earlier part of the summer--were beyond her. To -which she added--what was clearly another matter--that even if Mr. Hadley -had taken a fancy to Esther, it was by no means certain that she had a -fancy for him. - -She waited with some impatience for Esther's account of the visit, and -the letter which came shortly certainly bore out Tom's impression that -she had enjoyed it. It seemed that Mr. Hadley's father was extremely -anxious to meet Deacon Saxon, but being somewhat infirm of health and -indisposed for so long a ride, had urgently begged the old gentleman to -come to him,--with his granddaughter, of course,--and the two had taken -the drive to Hartridge one day with all the pleasure in life. The -Hadleys' summer home, Esther wrote, was perfectly beautiful, much more -so in outward aspect than the Boston house, with its straight brown -front, and inside it was apparently a bower of loveliness. Such simple -but elegant furnishings, such devices for making summer leisure redolent -of rest and culture! Ah! It was a theme to inspire her pen, and she grew -fairly eloquent over it. - -It appeared, too, that Mr. Hadley had been more charming than ever, and -his family were delightful. There had been a married sister from Boston -there on a visit who had been more than gracious to Esther, and had -assured her that she should count on seeing much of her during the -winter. Altogether, it seemed to have been an idyllic day. Kate read the -letter aloud to the family, then laid it down without joining in the -general comment. She was half vexed that her sister should have had so -good a time, and she really wished that Mr. Philip Hadley were not quite -so agreeable. - -But there were certain other people whose agreeable qualities she did -not find so exasperating. The sight of one of them, coming to the house -that afternoon in the edge of twilight, sent her flying out to meet him -with a cry of delight. - -"Mort Elwell!" she exclaimed, almost running into his arms; "oh, but I'm -glad to see you!" - -"Well, you'd better believe I'm glad to see you," he replied. And then -they clasped hands and beamed at each other for a minute like brother -and sister. - -"My! how tall you're getting! Has Esther been growing like that this -summer?" he demanded, as they walked together to the house. - -"The first question, of course," she replied, trying to pout. "I'm sure -I can't tell. I don't believe there's any difference in me, only you've -forgotten how I looked when I went away." - -Forgotten! Not he. He protested that he remembered just how high she had -come above his shoulders when she stood on the threshing machine that -day last summer. And then they both laughed. How long ago it seemed, -that harvesting at the farm! - -"But it seems longer to us than to you, Mort, I know it does," said the -girl. "So much has happened to us, and we've seen so many different -places." - -"I've seen a few places myself, if you please," he retorted, "and -there's more difference in them than you'd think, especially when it -comes to the eating. But there are other things, besides going around, -to make time seem long to a body." - -They welcomed him in the house with such affectionate cordiality as -might have been extended to one very dear and near of kin. Mrs. -Northmore's eyes grew bright and moist at the sight of him; and the -doctor, who had stretched himself on the lounge five minutes before in a -state of exhaustion, declaring that nothing short of a case of apoplexy -could make him budge off it that evening, fairly bounded across the room -at the sight of Morton, and shook his hand with a heartiness suggestive -of exuberant vitality. - -"When did you get home?" was the first question when the greetings were -over, and "When are you going away?" followed, without waiting for -answer. - -"I just got in on the train this noon," said Morton, "and I'm going -to-morrow morning. Can't spend any time loafing, you know, for the term -began a month ago, and I must get there now as soon as I can." - -"And you'll have back work to make up the very first thing," said Mrs. -Northmore. "It's too bad to work so hard all summer and then start into -your studies at such a disadvantage." - -"I think I can manage that all right," said the young man, confidently. -"I've got money enough to make the ends meet for a while, without doing -any outside work, and it won't take me long to catch up." - -"Well, don't make too brilliant a run, Mort," said the doctor, dryly. "I -hate to see a good proverb spoiled; and all work and no play ought to -make Jack a dull boy, if it doesn't." - -"I rather think Jack's a dull boy to start with, if it knocks him out in -one season," said the young man, laughing. - -He was so modest, so manly, and his buoyant energy was so refreshing, -that it was no wonder they all sat looking at him as if they had a -personal pride in his doings. - -"But at least you won't have to teach school this winter," said Mrs. -Northmore. - -"Not unless somebody relieves me of what I've earned this summer," said -Morton, lightly. "In that case I'll speak for my old place again." - -"I'll warrant they'd let you have it," said the doctor. - -"Oh, they've made me the offer, already," said Morton; "besides, I hold -a first-grade certificate to teach in that county, and I might miss it -on examination somewhere else." - -"Not much danger of that, I fancy," said Mrs. Northmore, and the doctor -added, growling, "Those examinations are a good deal of a humbug. For my -part, I think a few oral questions put to a fellow straight out would be -worth as much as all that written stuff." He had been a county examiner -once himself, and had a painful remembrance of the "stuff," which, to -tell the truth, his wife had mostly examined for him. - -"I rather think an oral question that was put to me helped me in my -examination," said Morton, a gleam of amused remembrance coming into his -eyes. "Did I ever tell you about that? I had just finished one set of -papers and gone up to the desk for another, when one of the examiners, a -dry, shrewd-looking old fellow, leaned over and put this question to me: -'When turkeys are six and three-fourths dollars per dozen, how many may -be had for two dollars eighty-one cents and one-fourth?'" - -"The mean thing!" ejaculated Kate. "He didn't expect you to figure that -out in your head, right then and there, did he?" - -"He expected an answer," said Morton, "and do you know, as good luck -would have it, I hit it at the first shot, and gave it to him in a -quarter of a minute. I told him _five_, and that was right." - -"Well," gasped the doctor, "talk about lightning calculators!" - -"But I didn't calculate it," laughed the young man. "I told you 'twas -luck. You see I knew the answer, being turkeys, must be a whole number, -and the sum named was less than half the price of a dozen, so it -couldn't be six, and I took the chances on five. The man that asked the -question saw through it, of course, and I believe he sort of liked me -after that. But look here, who cares about county examinations or what I -did last winter? I want to hear about this summer, and how you liked New -England. Start in, Kate, and tell me everything." - -"'Only that and nothing more?'" she said, lifting her hands. "Why, I -intend to give out my experiences sparingly, and embellish my -conversation with them for the rest of my life. But we did have a -glorious time--I'll tell you so much. And New England's great. If you've -any doubts on that point you may as well give them up right here and -now. It's funny, some of it, of course; the little fields, and the stone -walls, and the ox-teams--but you get used to those things, you know; and -the people are nice. It's the next best thing to living out here--it -really is--to live in the Old Bay State, as grandfather calls it." - -And then, with an abandon which hardly tallied with her avowed intention -to keep some capital for future use, she threw herself into the doings -on the old farm, the attractions of New England villages, and the -delights--oh! the delights of Boston and the sea, with his eager -questions drawing her on and fresh items suggesting themselves at every -turn. - -It lengthened itself into a long delicious evening, and after a little -the young people had it all to themselves, for the doctor was called -off, and not to a case of apoplexy either, only to a child who had put a -button into his ear; and a neighbor dropped in, to whose troubles Mrs. -Northmore must give her sympathizing attention. - -There was one subject on which the young man's interest showed itself -keen at a score of points in the course of Kate's vivacious talk. Did -Esther look at this and that as her sister did? Did she note the -contrasts with a touch of pride and pleasure in the ways at home? Was -she wholly glad to stay behind? And might it not be longer than the -winter, much longer perhaps, before she would be at home again. - -As to the last point Kate eagerly denied the danger. The other questions -she answered more slowly, but with her usual frankness. Esther had been -more in love with New England than herself; she had not criticised -things--oh, dear, she had never quarrelled with anybody in behalf of her -native state; and she had been perfectly delighted with the invitation -to stay, there could be no doubt of that. And then she was silent, her -face lengthening a little, as she thought of the one who gave the -invitation. - -The young man had listened with the closest attention while she talked, -and he gave a little sigh when she finished. "I'm afraid I shan't know -as much about things that are happening there now as I did before you -came away," he said wistfully. "You were ever so good about writing to -me, Kate. I haven't had but one letter since you came away." - -His eyes wandered as he spoke to that letter with its well-known writing -lying on the table, and it was not the first time since he came in that -they had moved in that direction. Kate noted the hungry look, and felt -mean. - -"We had one to-day, and she is perfectly well," she said uneasily. And -then she would have changed the subject but that Virgie, who was so -little given to conversation that her occasional contributions were the -more dangerous, spoke up just then and said it was such an interesting -letter, all about a visit Esther had made with grandfather; Kate had -read it to them all, and it was beautiful. - -"Can't I hear it too?" said Morton, boldly. - -There was no help for it now, and Kate walked soberly to the table. -There were one or two passages she would certainly have left out, but -Virgie, who had read it three times, would be likely enough to call -attention to the omissions, and that would make the business worse. So -she went straight through it, with a certain hardness of tone when -allusions were made to the charming qualities of Mr. Philip Hadley which -made them all the more emphatic. - -Morton Elwell's eyes did not move from her face as she read. Indeed, -there was a tenseness about his expression at moments which suggested -that he was holding his breath. - -"So you see grandfather's taking her into all the gayeties," Kate said -rather nervously, as she laid down the letter. "She's a wonderful -favorite with grandfather." - -Morton drew his hand across his forehead. "This Mr. Hadley is the one -who went to the graveyard with her, isn't he? Esther wrote me about -that." - -"Yes, only 'twas Stella he was with," said Kate. "Esther was with -grandfather." - -The exact arrangement of the party was apparently not the main interest -just then for Morton. "And he showed you around Boston and Cambridge and -those other places afterward, didn't he?" he queried. - -"Yes, we did a good deal of sight-seeing together," said Kate, and then -she added hurriedly, "he and Stella are tremendously up in art, and -that's why he went to some places with us. He wanted to show her a -picture in his own house for one thing. Maybe Esther wrote you about -that too." - -"But he knows Stella's gone from your grandfather's now, doesn't he?" -said the young man. There were apparently other things besides the price -of turkeys in regard to which he could draw quick deductions, and his -eyes searched Kate's at that moment with a look that was straight and -keen. - -"I don't know but he does," she said almost pettishly. - -There was a minute's silence, and somehow it occurred to Morton Elwell -just then that the hour was growing late. - -"I must be going home," he said. "Aunt Jenny'll wonder what has become -of me." - -He said good night to Virgie, and stopped in the hall a minute for a -word with Mrs. Northmore. Kate was beside him. "I'll go down to the gate -with you," she said, as she had said many a time before, and he seemed -to expect it. - -But when they were fairly beyond the porch, in the shadows of the -shrubbery, he slipped his arm through hers, and said very quietly: -"Kate, I wish you'd tell me the truth about this Mr. Hadley. He's coming -to see Esther, of course. Is he in love with her?" - -"I don't know that he is. I never saw a thing to make me think so," said -Kate, with low vehemence. And then (for there was a frankness in her -which would not let her stop there) she added: "Tom says he is; but Tom -made up his mind to that right at the start, and he's the most obstinate -boy I ever saw about his own opinions. He never changes his mind, no -matter what good reasons you may show him on the other side." - -The idiosyncrasies of Tom Saxon were not interesting just then to Morton -Elwell. Kate heard him draw his breath hard before he said: "Of course -he's in love with her. He's been seeing her all summer, and he couldn't -help being. And she"--he paused for an instant before he added bitterly: -"I understand it now. It's knowing _him_ that made her so willing to -stay." - -"Oh, no it isn't, Mort; indeed it isn't," said Kate, bringing him to a -standstill with a compelling pressure on his arm. "If you knew -everything, you wouldn't say that. It was Aunt Katharine that made her -stay. Oh, if you knew Aunt Katharine! She's a dreadfully strong-minded -woman, and she's taken a terrible fancy to Esther. She'd like to make -her feel just as she does about woman's rights, and never marrying, and -all that sort of thing. _She's_ the one, not Mr. Hadley at all, that has -such an influence over Esther." - -"Nonsense!" said Morton Elwell; and he said it with a sharpness that for -an instant made Kate almost afraid of him. - -There was silence for a minute as they moved down the path. Then, -with the sharpness gone out of his voice and the bitterness -overflowing it again, he said: "I don't wonder at it. He's rich and -agreeable,--you wrote that yourself, Kate. He's all that's delightful -and cultivated,--she says so in the letter. He has everything -and--and time to be with her," he added, with a groan. "She can't -help caring for him. I know it as if I were there to see." - -They had reached the great horse-chestnut tree by the gate, and the -moonlight came down through the half-leafless branches on the girl's -face lifted to his. "Oh, it won't be the way you think, Mort," she -whispered passionately. "Esther _can't_ care for Mr. Hadley. I'm sure, -I'm sure she can't!" - -"Why can't she?" he asked, and his face looked pale and stern. - -She caught her breath with a sob. "Because--oh, Mort--because _you're_ so -much nicer!" she said, with an utter abandon. And then her head dropped, -and a splash of tears fell on his coat-sleeve. - -He stooped suddenly and kissed her; then, without even a good night, -strode off down the road. - -It lay before him straight and empty in the moonlight; and he followed -it past the turn that led to his uncle's house, on and on, taking no -note of distance. This fear which had come to him so suddenly--it seemed -already not a possibility but a certainty, and it stalked at his side, -keeping even step with his. He had no vanity to whisper that there were -other attractions besides those which fortune had bestowed so lavishly -on Mr. Philip Hadley. He had been too busy all his life, and such gifts -as he had were too inherently part of his nature for him to turn an -observant eye upon them and mark their value. He seemed to himself a -homely, humdrum fellow beside this other who had stepped so lightly into -Esther Northmore's life. There was envy enough in his heart, Heaven -knew; but it somehow withheld the thought that wealth was accidental, -culture acquired,--poor things at best beside that inner something which -makes the man. They were good gifts. He hoped to prove it for himself by -and by, and that other something--How if Mr. Philip Hadley were rich in -that, too? - -But was it fair, was it fair that he, to whom only a summer pleasuring -had brought acquaintance with Esther Northmore, should steal her away -from one who had loved her so long? His heart ran swiftly over the past, -and a lump rose in his throat as memory brought back those early days. -She was five years old, he seven, when he came to his uncle's house, a -lonesome, homesick boy. He remembered how she came across the fields -with her mother, on that first afternoon, in her little red shoes and -white apron, a dainty figure, with gentle ways and soft, loving eyes. He -remembered how she had slid her hand into his and whispered she was -sorry his mother was dead. And then they had played together, he drawing -her about in his little cart; and before he knew it the long day was -ending and a sense of being at home had stolen into his heart. That was -the beginning, and what friends they had been through the childish years -that followed! He remembered how he bought her a carnelian ring once at -the county fair. The ring had broken next day, and she had wept scalding -tears. Alas, there was no dime left to buy another, but he had promised -that she should have a gold one sometime, with a shining stone at the -top, and she had been comforted with this, and promised to wait. - -Ah, one could not bear such memories as this. He thrust it down and -swallowed fiercely at the lump in his throat, which seemed his heart -itself swollen to bursting. But other pictures came: the growing girl, -so willing to take his help, so quick to give her own, so proud of all -his successes. They had gone through the district school side by side, -he only a class ahead, though older, for his chance to begin had come -later than hers. How many times he had worked her problems for her, how -often he had gone over his boyish debates and speeches with her for -listener, on the way to school, or in her father's orchard when his -chores were done, sure that he had made his pleading well when the tears -sprang into her eyes, and the quick responsive color flushed and paled -in her cheeks! What would any work he could do, or any triumph he could -ever win, be worth to him if she had ceased to care? - -There had been a difference in her,--he had marked it uneasily, slow as -he was in the steadfast loyalty of his own thoughts to guess at change -in hers,--but he had said to himself it was because they had been apart -too much, she at boarding school, he at college. It would all be as it -had been when they could see each other again in the old way. That they -belonged to each other was a thing he had held so simply and of course -that the fear of losing her had never till now really entered his heart. - -And then, with a passionate protest, he felt himself writing to her, -telling her of his love and calling her back; but swift chilling doubts -overtook the impulse. If she had forgotten, slipped away from all this -of the past, could any word of his, across the cruel distance, call her -back? He had no art with his pen, and what would the poor meagre page be -worth beside the living presence of this new, delightful friend? - -The bitterness gathered like a flood in his heart, and all its waves and -billows went over him. He knew nothing of the beauty of the night nor -the way he was taking. He had no sense of outward things, when his name -was called suddenly behind him. - -"Mort Elwell! Well, upon my word! I thought 'twas you, and then I -thought it couldn't be. When did I ever catch up with you before, on a -straight road, with you well in the start?" - -The young man turned at the voice, and for a moment stared blankly at -the speaker. It was the New Light preacher, his friend of many years, -his comrade in the labors of the early summer. The long loose figure -bent eagerly toward him, and the sallow face shone in the flooding -moonlight. It was impossible, at any pass of melancholy, not to find a -moment's pleasure in so warm a greeting. - -"I declare I didn't hear you coming up," said the young man. "I was -taking my time to it, and wasn't looking for company." - -"No, I reckon not," said the preacher, smiling. "It's toler'ble late, if -you happen to know it, and you're a little out of your own bailiwick, -aren't you?" - -"Over in yours?" said Morton, noting for the first time how far he had -gone. "Well, it's rather late for you too, isn't it?" - -"Yes," said the preacher; "but I've been over at old man Towner's. He's -having one of his bad spells, and this time he won't pull through. I -reckon he'll be done with living here in a few days more." - -"Well, it's something to be through with," said the young man. He had -spoken more to fill the pause than for anything else, but there was a -dreary note in his voice which fell strangely on the ear of the other. - -"You, Mort!" he exclaimed, and his eyes searched the face of his -companion for a moment curiously. It looked tired and worn. "Just -through your work?" he asked. "When did you get in?" - -"Finished my job yesterday," said Morton, "and am here just long enough -to pick up my things. Shall go to-morrow morning." - -"And start in for another stiff year's work," said the preacher. "Well, -Mort, you've made a summer of it. I hope things'll ease up for you -sometime, and they will, they will." - -The young man lifted his head with an impatient movement. "I wish people -wouldn't pity me for having to work," he said. "I don't care how hard I -work. It's the easiest thing there is." - -Some fine wrinkles had gathered in the preacher's forehead. "Yes," he -said, with his eyes still on Morton's face. "It's a good deal easier -than wanting work and not getting it, for instance. Plenty of folks -could tell you that." - -There was a touch of contempt mingled now with the impatience in -Morton's voice. "I never was a bit afraid but I could get all the work I -wanted," he said. "Give me my head and hands, and I'll take care of -that." - -"And not be so proud of yourself for doing it maybe, when you get to my -age," said the preacher. Then dropping into his bit of a drawl, he -added: "But there _are_ things that ain't so easy to come by, eh, Mort? -It's a fact, man. But 'Faint-heart never won fair lady,' nor anything -else worth having." - -A flush rose in Morton's face and he sent a quick look at the preacher. -The shrewd gray eyes were looking at him kindly. - -"And Stout-heart doesn't win them either, sometimes," he said bitterly. - -"Oh, it's chance, it's chance, the way things happen!" - -The preacher laid his hand on the young fellow's shoulder. "No, Mort," -he said with a peculiar gentleness in his voice, "Stout-heart _doesn't_ -win them always. We fail of them sometimes with all our trying. God -knows how I've wanted some things I've missed. But there's one thing we -needn't miss,--the Lord himself stands to that,--courage to meet what -comes, strength to go without, if we must, and not be broken by it." - -The young man stopped in his walk and faced the other. "Strength!" he -cried, almost fiercely. "To do without the things that make everything -else worth having! Where is one to get it? You could hunt for work--I'd -take my chances on finding that--but _this_!" - -He set his teeth hard, and the preacher felt the strong young figure -grow tense under his hand. He drew himself up, and his eyes held the -boy's with a compelling earnestness. - -"Where are you to get it, Mort?" he said solemnly. "From the One that -gave you what strength you've got. Do you think He bankrupted Himself -giving you and me the little sense, the little power that's in us? I -tell you there's more; there's _enough_ for every soul of us. Cry to Him -for it. Open your eyes and open your heart. It's here, it's there, it's -all around us. And it's ours for the having." - -He stretched out his arms as he spoke with a wide reverent gesture, and -his plain awkward face looked noble as he lifted it toward the sky. - -They stood together for a long still minute without speaking. He had -broken in upon an hour of solitary wrestling; the older man knew it, and -he shrank back now from his intrusion. Suddenly he turned away. "It's a -little shorter for me across the fields, Mort, and I'll leave you here," -he said. "Good night, and God bless you." - -It was past midnight when Morton Elwell opened the door of his uncle's -house. A light was burning in the sitting room; and his aunt rose as he -entered, dropping from her lap the work with which she had been filling -the time while she waited. - -"What, were you sitting up for me, Aunt Jenny?" he said, as she met him. - -"It's a long time since I had a chance to sit up for you, Mort," she -said tenderly. And then she added, with a gentle reproach in her voice, -"Don't you think you ought to be taking a little more rest to-night, -when you start so early to-morrow?" - -"I'm going to bed right now," he said. Then he put his arm around her -neck in the old affectionate way, as he added, "A fellow has a deal to -be thankful for that's had such an auntie as you are to take care of him -all these years." - -And with that manly word, and a little quiver at his lips, he mounted -the stairs to his own room. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -ESTHER GOES TO PRAYER-MEETING - - -Meanwhile autumn was gliding away at the old farm. It was worth Esther -Northmore's while, as Aunt Katharine had suggested, to have seen October -in her mother's country. Even Old Timers, used to the glory that wrapped -its hills in the shortening days, doubted gravely whether they had ever -known a fall when the woods wore such gorgeous coloring as now, or kept -their royal robes so long. All the world seemed flaming in crimson and -gold, with fringes of purple at the roadsides, and Esther, walking -joyously in the midst, felt her pulses beating to a rhythm she had never -caught before in the swinging of the round old world. Her grandfather -was no poet; but he liked to see the girl come in with her face glowing -and her hands full of leaves, which always seemed to her more beautiful -than any she had ever found before. Sometimes he was moved to remind her -that this, too, was "vanity," one of earth's passing shows, but she -protested against this, and told him it would never pass for her. She -should keep it as long as she had life and memory. - -Very often in these shining days came Mr. Philip Hadley; once to urge -that pleasant invitation, then to make sure that his friends had -returned from the trip in safety; once to bring her a book she had -wanted, and at last to say good-by to Ruel Saxon. The Hadleys were about -to leave their summer home. With the approach of November it was time to -be back in the city. There had been an eager look in his eyes as he -added, turning to Esther, "You will be going about the same time." And -he had kept her hand longer than usual at the door as he said, "It has -been delightful to see you in this lovely old home, but we shall see -each other much oftener in Boston, I hope. I can't tell you how glad I -am that you are going to be there." - -[Illustration: "'IT HAS BEEN DELIGHTFUL TO SEE YOU IN THIS LOVELY OLD -HOME.'"] - -She had dropped her eyes, that easy color rising in her face as he -spoke, and then he had said, "Good-by for a little while," with a very -earnest pressure of the hand in his, and ridden away. - -It was late when he left, but she slipped out of the house immediately -for a walk, and for once there were no leaves in her hand when she came -back. "It looked like rain," she said, when Tom remarked that she had -stopped short of her favorite woods. - -It did not look so much like rain but that Ruel Saxon went as usual to -the prayer-meeting that night, and of course Esther went with him. It -was one of the standing engagements for every week. Perhaps the girl -could have spared it sometimes--there were few young people there--but she -never declined to accompany her grandfather. As for him, it was a place -he loved; a spot in which his own gifts shone conspicuous, and in which -it must be confessed he sometimes appropriated more than his fair share -of the time. Why Christian people did not all and always go to -prayer-meeting was one of the things he could not understand, and it -really seemed to him a surprising omission that there was not an -explicit command in the Bible laying the duty upon them. However, he -consoled himself with the admonition "not forsaking the assembling of -yourselves together, as the manner of some is," to which favorite -quotation he frequently added that he should not forsake the assembling -of _himself_ together as long as he was able to be there. - -There really was some doubt in Aunt Elsie's mind to-night as to the last -point. The old gentleman seemed to have all the premonitory symptoms of -a cold, but he would have scorned to stay at home for a trifle of that -sort, and started in good time on the long ride to the village. He bore -his part in the meeting with unusual unction, and a number of the -brothers and sisters took his hand at the close to thank him -impressively for his beautiful remarks. It was a form of flattery which -he dearly loved. - -Then, as he jogged home behind Dobbin with Esther, he fell to talking, -in reminiscent mood, of his own long services in the church, and this, -making all due allowance for that cheerful vanity, which he had never -been at pains to conceal, was a subject on which Ruel Saxon, if any man, -had some right to grow eloquent. Ministers might come and ministers -might go, but, as deacon of the church in Esterly, he had gone on, if -not forever, at least so long that few could remember when he had not -held and magnified the office. He had sat on councils to receive and -dismiss, he had contended for the faith, he had poured oil on troubled -waters; in short, in all the offices of peace and war, he had stood at -his post, and none could name the day when he had shirked its duties. - -"I've seen some strange doings in my time," he said, after one of his -pauses, "and I tell you there's as much human nature among church -members as there is among outsiders. Sometimes I've thought 'twas -because they needed grace worse than most folks that the Lord elected -some of 'em. I've been called on to settle quarrels among professors -that would astonish you; and I've had a hand in their love affairs too, -once or twice, when they got things so tangled up that they couldn't -straighten 'em out for themselves," he added with a little chuckle. - -"Love affairs!" repeated Esther, catching at the chance of a story. -"Why, how was that? Do tell me one of them, grandfather." - -He clucked to Dobbin, drew his hand across his face in the meditative -way that suggested a stroking of memory, and began slowly:-- - -"I guess the queerest one I ever had anything to do with, and the one -that bothered me most in my own mind, was that affair between Jotham -Radley and those two girls. You see they were both bound to have him; -and for the life of him he couldn't seem to settle on which one it -should be." - -"_They_ were bound to have _him_?" ejaculated Esther. She had heard of -two lovers to one lady, but this sort of a case was new in her -acquaintance. - -"Well, I don't know as I or' to say _they_ were," said the old -gentleman, correcting himself. "It was Huldy's mother on one side, and -'twas Polly herself on the other. You see, Jotham had been keeping -company a good while with Huldy, and folks gener'ly thought 'twas a -match between them, but he got to carrying on with Polly Green 'bout the -time he was building her father's barn. I always thought she must have -led him on. He was a wonderful easy man to be pulled round by women -folks, and Polly was a smart girl, there's no denying that. - -"Well, it began to be common talk that they were engaged, and then -Huldy's folks spoke out and said 'twas no such thing; it was all settled -between him and Huldy long ago, and her mother showed the linen she'd -spun and the bed quilts she'd pieced for housekeeping. It got to be a -good deal of a scandal, for Jotham was clerk of the church, and some -folks, specially the women, thought it or' to be stopped. So we deacons -talked it over together, and then two of us went to see Jotham and asked -him how it was about it. He didn't say much, one way or t'other--acted -sort o' queer 'n' shame-faced; but he agreed the talk or' to be stopped, -and said he'd have it settled in a week. - -"I guess he found it harder to settle than he counted on, for Polly was -a dreadful spirited girl, and Huldy's mother was the kind that couldn't -be put off. Anyhow, instead of easing up, the talk kept getting louder, -and Jotham didn't show his face in the meeting-house for two Sundays. -Well, the deacons felt that he was trifling with 'em, and that time we -went in a body to deal with him. - -"Deacon Simms did the bulk of the talking, and he told Jotham pretty -straight what he thought about a man's whiffling round between two girls -as he did, and then he told him if he couldn't settle the business for -himself the church would have to settle it for him. At that Jotham spoke -out like a man distracted, and said he wished to goodness we would. I -asked him if he'd abide by our decision, and he said he'd abide by -anything the girls would. - -"I must say I didn't much like the business, but we went the next day to -see the girls. Polly cried, and took on, and according to her account -Jotham had certainly said some wonderful pointed things for a man that -didn't know his own mind. As for Huldy, she looked sick and scared, and -'twas much as we could do to get a word out of her. Her mother was ready -enough to talk, but Jotham warn't engaged to _her_ anyhow, and I stood -to it that we couldn't settle the thing by the way _she_ looked at it. I -always suspicioned that if Huldy'd spoke up and freed her mind, she -might have made out the best case, but she wouldn't do it. - -"Seemed as if she didn't want to commit him, and the other deacons -thought 'twas a clear case he ought to marry Polly. It sort of 'peared -to me that it or' to be Huldy, but of course I couldn't prove it, and -anyway 'twas three to one. So I gave in to the rest, and to settle all -the talk, we had Jotham and Polly published in church the next Sunday. -They did say Jotham turned dreadful white when they told him how we'd -settled it, but he married Polly at the set time, and as far as I know -they always got along well together." - -"What become of Huldah?" queried Esther. - -"Huldy?" said the deacon, reflecting. "Well, she stayed single till she -must have been upward of thirty; then she married a widower, and -everybody said 'twas a good match." - -There was silence for some time, then Esther said, with her eyes on the -sky, over which the clouds were shifting uneasily, "Grandfather, do you -think a person _could_ have any doubt in his own mind as to which one of -two people he cared for most, if--if he was really in love with either of -them?" - -"I ain't sure but he might," said the deacon, slowly. "It takes a good -while to get acquainted with folks, and I don't know but it's about as -hard sometimes to know your own mind, as 'tis to know anybody -else's--even if 'tis inside of you." And then he added briskly, "But it -stan's to reason that a man or' to have a care how far he goes before he -gets things cleared up." - -She seemed not to hear the last remark. "But if you had known a person -for a long, long time," she said insistently, "there couldn't be any -doubt then, could there?" - -Again, like the wise man he was, the deacon answered slowly, "Well, a -body or' to get his mind made up in a reasonable length of time," he -said. "There was Nathan Weyler went to see Patty Foster every Saturday -night for thirty years before he asked her to marry him. I should call -that _slow_! But there _is_ such a thing as seeing so much of -folks--being so close to 'em, you know--that you don't really get as good -a sight at 'em as you would if they were farther off. It's getting your -attention drawn somewhere else, and seeing what's in other folks -sometimes, that wakes you up to what there is in those you thought you -knew best." - -Esther, whose eyes had been fixed on her grandfather's face intently -during this reply, looked suddenly back at the sky. She had thought -there were no stars to-night, but she was aware, all at once, that there -were four or five shining straight before her. Had they all come out in -the last moment, or was it an illustration of what he had just been -saying? - -Her voice shook a little, and she did not look at her grandfather as she -asked her next question. "But if it came to you that there _was_ more in -somebody than you had realized--if you saw more to admire than you ever -did before--_that_ wouldn't be enough, would it? I mean, it wouldn't be -right to marry for anything but love, would it?" She broke suddenly off, -then began again with a nervous, half-incoherent swiftness. "That man, -for instance, that you were telling me about, and Huldah. If he had just -felt sorry for her, and it kept coming to him all the time that he hated -to leave her, because--because he had known her so long, and he knew it -would be hard for her, and she was so good and true--all that wouldn't be -enough to make him marry her, would it?" - -Strange that she should be so deeply stirred over that old story of so -long ago! Her hands trembled so much that she had to press them together -to hold them still when she had finished. - -He was a keen-witted man, Ruel Saxon. Perhaps it may have crossed his -mind at that moment that he was being called once more, at this late -hour of his life, to lend a hand in straightening out some tangled skein -of love, but if so he did not reveal it. - -"No," he said distinctly, "no; there's nothing else but love will do. -It's all that's strong enough to last, and it's a long, long thing, -giving your promise to marry." - -And then that shrewd reflective note crept into his voice again as he -added: "But if it kept coming to a body the way you speak of, to be -thinking of somebody else all the time, and be sorry for them, and all -that, I should be a little mite doubtful if there wasn't something after -all besides pity at the bottom of it. A body wouldn't keep on so very -long being sorry for one person, if he was right down in love with -another. He'd forget about that one before he knew it. It's like Aaron's -rod, you see. Some things get swallowed up terrible quick when the one -that's bigger and more alive stretches itself out among 'em." - -She did not ask any more questions. She kept her eyes on the stars for a -long time after that. And her grandfather spoke to Dobbin presently in a -tone of impatience. "Get up; get up; it's time we were home long ago." - -It was certainly later than usual when they drew up at the door. Aunt -Elsie opened it, looking out rather anxiously when the wheels of the -carriage stopped. "I guess we've been a little longer than common on the -way, we've had so much to talk about," said the old gentleman, -cheerfully. Then, as he got down from the carriage, and left it in the -hands of Tom, who stood ready with the lantern, he added, stretching -himself, "I declare, I feel sort o' chilly and stiff in the joints. -Mebbe I'd better have a little sup of something warm before I get into -bed." - -Esther had thought that would be the last time of going to -prayer-meeting with her grandfather, and so it proved, but not because -she had taken her flight before the next Wednesday evening came. Perhaps -it was a cold settling upon him with the raw gray weather which November -ushered in, but he was feverish next morning, and kept the house, -complaining of draughts which no one else felt, and a little querulous, -as he was apt to be when anything ailed that outer man in whose general -soundness he took such pride. - -For three days he sat by the fire, swallowing boneset tea in quantities -and of a degree of bitterness which filled the household, especially -Esther, with admiration; but he sternly rejected Aunt Elsie's suggestion -that he should send for a physician, being in practice disposed to the -opinion that a man had no use for a doctor until he had reached the -point where the chances were against a doctor or any one else being able -to help him. He was in something of a strait, however, when Sunday came -and he was clearly unable to attend church. To admit the gravity of his -case by sending for a medical man was one thing, but to absent himself -from the house of God, unless such state of gravity existed, was -another; and between the two horns of the dilemma he tossed painfully -all the morning. In the end Aunt Elsie settled it, and she was quite -willing that he should take what grumbling comfort he could in -representing himself as a martyr to feminine insistence when the doctor -appeared. - -Evidently the latter did not think he had been called too soon. He sent -his patient promptly to bed, and now, having advertised himself as sick, -the old gentleman obeyed orders with the meekness of a lamb. It would be -only a few days, of course; but while it lasted he meant to make the -most of his case, and take his full dues in the way of sympathy and -attention. - -That the minister would come promptly was certain, and there would be -opportunity for testing the fidelity of his brother deacons to the duty -of visiting the sick and afflicted. Undoubtedly there would be prayers -sent up in his behalf from the pulpit and at the Wednesday evening -prayer-meeting, and--let us not judge the good man too severely! his own -gift in prayer was of no common order--he really hoped the petitions -would be well expressed. As for his own family, it went without saying -that they would wait upon him with unfailing attention, while he lay, as -he plaintively expressed it, on his "bed of pain and languishment"; and -feminine attentions were dear to the soul of Ruel Saxon. - -He did not have to suggest to Esther that she should delay her departure -for Boston. Indeed, it is possible that he forgot her plans altogether, -and she remembered them herself only to say quietly to Aunt Elsie, "I -shall stay, of course, till he is better. I couldn't think of leaving -him now, and perhaps I can be some help to you in taking care of him." - -Aunt Elsie was not an effusive woman, but the tone in which she said, -"It'll be a real comfort to have you here," made the girl look happy. -She meant to slip across the fields later in the day and tell Aunt -Katharine that her going had been postponed, but her grandfather grew -restless as the day wore on, and seemed to feel neglected if some one -were not constantly at his side. - -"I really think Aunt Katharine ought to know it," she said at supper, -and Tom, who was sitting at the table, responded promptly, "I'll go and -tell her, if you want me to." - -"Will you?" she said eagerly. "Thank you, Tom. Tell her I'll come down -and see her myself as soon as grandfather gets a little better." - -"And don't let her feel too much worried about him," cautioned his -mother. "He isn't any worse than he was last week, only he's in bed, and -that makes him seem worse." - -"All right," said Tom, "I'll go as soon as I'm through milking." - -Esther thanked him again, though in her heart she would rather he had -proposed to spend an hour in his grandfather's room. It was several days -since she had seen Aunt Katharine, and she would have liked a little -chat in the pleasant living-room, where that big wood stove had been set -up, and the windows were growing gay with old-fashioned chrysanthemums. -They were the only flowers she ever kept in her windows, and she excused -her partiality for these on a whimsical plea of pity. - -"They count on being taken in," she said one day, when Esther came upon -her in the garden potting them for the winter. "They know they can't do -half their blossoming outdoors at this time o' year, but that's the way -they time it every season. Look at those buds, thick as spatter, and -they won't half of 'em have a chance to show their color unless somebody -goes to the trouble of taking 'em in and doing for 'em. I hate to see -things go so far and then make a fizzle of it." And she had pressed the -earth about their roots in the big stone jars with a carefulness of -touch and a look of exasperated patience which the girl had enjoyed -immensely. - -The friendship which to others seemed so odd seemed to her now the most -natural thing in the world, and more and more she valued it. Once, in -the soreness of that clash with Kate, she had poured out her heart to -her mother. Perhaps Kate had done so too in the days that followed her -return; but the reply which Mrs. Northmore made had cleared the -atmosphere for Esther, at least, and left the intimacy free and -untroubled. - -"My dear child," she wrote, "I am sure you will not believe that I share -your sister's uneasiness over your friendship with Aunt Katharine. The -questions over which she has brooded so long are real and vital, and I -am not sorry that you should come to know them through knowing one who -holds her views upon them with such deep and unselfish earnestness as -your Aunt Katharine. A braver or truer heart than hers I have never -known. But it must have occurred to you--if not, it surely will -later--that she sees only one side of some of the great facts of our -woman's life. The reformer who sees only one side of any question is -needed, no doubt, to startle others into recognition of facts they would -otherwise miss, but in the end the reform must depend on those who see -both sides, and see them with steady fairness. If your life shall be as -happy as I hope it may be, I cannot think you will permanently hold some -of Aunt Katharine's opinions; but meanwhile I would not have you shut -your heart to her or her word. Oh, believe me, my dear, there is no -eye-opener in the world like love." - -The old woman was drawing the shades behind the chrysanthemums in the -windows when Tom came to her house in the dusk of that evening. He had -expected to deliver his message at the door, but she insisted on his -coming in and rendering it with careful detail. Certainly he did not err -on the side against which his mother had cautioned him. Indeed, if the -old gentleman had heard his grandson's statement of his case he would -probably have felt a strong inclination to get out of bed and go to his -sister's at once for the express purpose of telling her that he was much -worse than the boy had represented. - -Tom was not inclined to anxieties, and a certain inquisitorial attitude -which his grandfather had maintained during the past few days as to his -own work at the barn, and the amount of care which Dobbin was receiving, -had left the impression on his mind that his grandfather was not -suffering as much as he might be. - -He revealed this to some extent as he answered Aunt Katharine's -questions, and she, after putting them sharply for a few minutes, -settled back in her chair with an air of evident relief. She was not -surprised to learn that Esther had put off her going to Boston. "I -should know she'd do it," she said, nodding, and she added, with a -peculiar smile, "I s'pose your grandfather hated dreadful bad to -disappoint her." - -Tom disclaimed any knowledge on this head, and then remarked acutely, -"He'll keep her busy enough while she stays. He doesn't seem to want her -out of his sight a minute." - -"Hm," said Miss Saxon. "I'll warrant he'd keep 'em all busy if they were -there." And then she remarked casually, "It must seem sort of quiet at -your house compared with what 'twas this summer." - -"Kate was the liveliest one," said Tom, and he said it with such a tone -of regret that his aunt looked at him keenly. - -"You liked her, did you?" she asked. - -Perhaps his secret knowledge of that interview in which she had worsted -Kate, and an impression that she had a special grudge against the girl, -inclined him to the unusual emphasis with which he answered the -question. - -"I never saw a girl I liked so well in my life," he said. "She's made of -the right sort of stuff, and she's game clear through." - -"Hm," grunted Miss Saxon again, beginning to look very much interested. -"I understand you 'n' she did a sight of quarrelling. She generally got -ahead of you, didn't she?" - -"No marm, she didn't," said Tom, promptly. "I generally got ahead of -her, only she'd never own it." - -Aunt Katharine laughed. If anything could please her more than to have a -girl get the best of a controversy it was to know that she had kept on -after getting the worst. She had always approved the spirit of those old -Britons, of whom Cæsar complained that they never knew when they were -beaten. - -"What do you mean by saying she's made of the right sort of stuff?" she -asked suddenly. - -"Why, I mean," said Tom, hesitating a little,--he was not analytical in -his turn of mind,--"I mean she's plucky, and she's out-and-out about -everything. I'd trust her as quick as I would a boy." - -"As quick as you would a boy!" repeated Aunt Katharine, bristling; "what -do you mean by that, I'd like to know." - -Tom had not come for a controversy with Aunt Katharine, and she really -looked a little dangerous at that moment. But he remembered suddenly -that word of Kate's, that the old woman's manner didn't "faze" her, -after the first, and he determined, as far as in him lay, not to be -fazed either. - -"Why, I didn't mean anything bad," he said, drawing a little nearer the -edge of his chair, "but there's a difference, you know. At least you -would know if you were a boy. Most girls are sort of sly when they want -to get anything out of you, and they do things they wouldn't think were -fair for you to do. But she wasn't that way. She always let you know -what she was up to, and when it came to fighting she struck right out -from the shoulder. But I wasn't blaming the rest of 'em. I guess it's -all right, being girls," he added, rising and beginning to move toward -the door. - -Aunt Katharine rose too, and brought her cane down on the floor with a -sharp thud. "That's it!" she said, fiercely. "Boys 'n' men, you're all -alike, and you've got the notion already. You act as if we women folks -were weaker creatures than you are. You make us think we are; and then -you look for all the tricks that weaker creatures use when they defend -themselves. It serves you right if we _do_ use 'em. But it's a lie all -the same, for both of us." - -She drew her lips hard, then, as she saw his hand on the knob of the -door, she said, "Tell your grandfather I'll be up to see him to-morrow." - -She did not keep the promise. The rain, which had been threatening for -days, falling now and then in drizzling showers, then stopping again, as -if, though still in sullen mood, some vacillating purpose held it, -settled down at last for steady work. There was a week of leaden days, -with the rain beating out all that was left of the color in the woods, -and changing the world into one brown monotony which melancholy seemed -to have marked for her own. - -And through it all, at the old house, Ruel Saxon kept his bed, and as -the days went on grew no better. There was not much pain: a little -fever, a growing drowsiness, a failing appetite, a little swelling of -the limbs. Even the doctor seemed not to know what it was that had crept -so suddenly upon the active frame, but he looked graver with every -visit. Once, as he added another vial to the little row on the stand by -the bed, he mentioned a name which the sick man, opening his eyes a -little wider, repeated, adding, "That was what ailed my grandfather;" -and then he closed his eyes without sign of uneasiness. Perhaps he -remembered how much stronger in all its seeming powers was this body of -his than that worn-out form from which the spirit of the grandfather -stole away at last. - -But a change came over him in these days. He lost the querulous tone of -inquiry about things at the barn. He seemed to have forgotten that -suspicion of his that Tom was liable to let Dobbin's manger go empty. -Once he said to the boy instead, "It's a little hard on you and Mike to -have it all to do, Tom. I wish I could help you with the husking." - -At last there came a day when the rain ceased to fall. The sun shone out -clear and bright, and the clouds went stately across the sky, to the -measure of marches they had kept in October. Mists rose from the earth, -not heavily, but with a lightness suggestive of warmth still in the -breast of the earth, and Esther, standing on the doorstep of the old -house, noted that there was even yet a little greenness among the limp -stalks in the garden where a flock of birds were twittering over the -seeds they had found for their breakfast. "I'm so glad the rain has -gone," she said, drawing a long breath. "It's pleasant weather that -grandfather needs." - -And then she went softly into his room to tell him how the sun was -shining, and smiled as he murmured in reply, "Truly the light is sweet, -and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun." - -It was that day in the afternoon that Aunt Katharine came across the -fields. The door of the kitchen was on the latch, and she lifted it and -stepped in without knocking. Perhaps she expected to see him sitting by -the fire, for she looked before her eagerly, but even Aunt Elsie was not -in sight, and she passed on without greeting to her brother's room. He -looked quite bright as he lay with his face toward Esther, who had just -been giving him a cup of broth. - -"Why, Aunt Katharine!" exclaimed the girl, rising to her feet, and the -old man, lifting his head, put out his hand with an eager welcome. - -"So you hain't managed to get out of bed yet?" she said, taking the -chair from which Esther had risen, and looking down at her brother with -an affectionate smile. "Well, I'm sorry for you, Ruel." Then, a half -whimsical expression creeping over her smile, she added: "'Pears to me -you don't hold up so much better'n some of us that don't claim to be so -stout. I've owned up to it for a good while that I ain't as young as I -used to be, and there's no denying that I make a pretty fair showing -with most old women when it comes to aches and pains, but they hain't -brought me onto the flat of my back for the last ten years." - -"I've been favored above most, Katharine," said the old man, mildly. -"I've had my strength and faculties spared to me beyond the common, and -I can't complain of anything now. 'Shall we receive good at the hand of -God and shall we not receive evil?' It is the Lord's will, let him do -what seemeth him good." - -She was evidently struck with his reply, and for a moment looked at him -keenly. "I should have come up before this, if it hadn't rained all the -time," she said, "and I took it for granted you was getting along. But I -guess you hain't needed me any, with those that are here to wait on -you." - -The old man's eyes turned to Esther with a peculiar tenderness. "No, I -don't want for anything," he said. "Elsie manages everything just right, -and Esther here seems to know what I need before I get a chance to speak -of it. It's queer now how she puts me in mind of her mother," he went on -musingly. "Sometimes I can't get it out of my mind that it's Lucia -sitting right here by me. And I hain't been out of my head either, have -I?" - -The girl did not answer the question, but she stooped and kissed his -forehead. "It's nice to have you think I'm mother," she said. "Do it all -you please." - -He smiled at her, then turned with a sudden wistfulness to his sister. -"Katharine," he said, "I've been thinking a lot about you, and how much -harder 'twould be for you than 'tis for me, if you should be taken sick -down there all by yourself. There wouldn't be anybody to take care of -you as the folks take care of me. I wish you lived up here with us. I've -wanted it this good while; and Elsie'd be willing, you know she would." - -"She wouldn't like it, Ruel, and you wouldn't either, after a little -while," said the old woman, her swift honesty throwing a note that was a -trifle harsh into her voice. "You and I never did see things the same -way, and we should see 'em more contrariwise than ever, if we had to -stand on just the same piece o' ground to look at 'em." - -The old man lifted his head with an obvious effort, and his breath came -quick for a moment. "No," he said, "we never did look at things just -alike, you 'n' I, and I guess 'twas natural to us both to want to pull -the other round to our way. But I've been thinking about that too, -Katharine, and I'm--I'm afraid I've riled you up sometimes when I hadn't -or' to. You've got just as good a right to your way of looking at things -as I have to mine, and I'm afraid I've said things to you sometimes that -warn't becoming." - -What she might have replied to this, if a neighbor, with Aunt Elsie, had -not entered the room at that moment, is not certain. A pallor had swept -suddenly across her face, and her eyes, wide and startled, were fixed -with a frightened look upon her brother. She rose from her chair as the -others drew near, and without responding to their greeting stepped -swiftly outside the door. Then she beckoned to her niece with a -trembling gesture. - -"Elsie," she whispered, when the other had crossed the threshold, "I'll -be obliged to you if you'll let Tom hitch up and drive me down to the -house. I want to get a few things and come right back. If you don't mind -I'll stay here a while. Ruel's a dreadful sick man." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -IN WHICH SEVERAL PEOPLE GET HOME - - -She had guessed the truth first, but they knew it, all of them, in a few -days more. They knew that Ruel Saxon's feet were set on the downward -path to the valley from which there is no return. - -They did not send for Stella. She had her work, and there were enough in -the home to do all that could be done for him. Still there was little -pain, a growing weakness, and the mind wandering more and more often, -but always peacefully, and oftenest over the years that lay far, far -behind him. Of Esther he seemed almost to have lost knowledge. He called -her Lucia constantly now, and liked no one so much at his bedside. - -And she kept her place, with no regret for any employment she might have -had in its stead. There came a letter from Mr. Philip Hadley, with -messages for her grandfather, and though the latter but half understood -as she read them, he seemed touched and pleased. The young man had -learned, through a call on Stella, of the old gentleman's illness and -the consequent delay in the carrying out of Esther's plan, and he wrote, -earnestly hoping it might not be for long, with kindest expressions of -sympathy for his aged friend. - -And then there came another, but this Esther did not read aloud. The -reading to herself alone left a troubled look in her eyes as she laid it -down. It seemed that Mr. Hadley's plans had suffered change, too. His -father was not bearing the Boston November well, and California for the -winter was the doctor's prescription. He must go with them, the young -man wrote, to see his father and mother well settled, but it would be -only for a few weeks, and by the time he returned surely Esther herself -would be in Boston. "I confess," he added, "that anxious as I am to do -what I can for my father, I could hardly bear it to be away from Boston -if you were here now." - -They objected to her sitting up with her grandfather that night on the -ground that she was not looking as well as usual, but Esther protested. -It was her turn, she pleaded. She had had the promise of staying with -him till midnight, and indeed, she was perfectly able. So they let her -have her way, and left her alone with him in the dear, familiar room, -with the lamp burning low on the table, and everything ready to her -hand. She could call the others in a moment if she needed them. He had -been easier than usual during the day, sleeping most of the time, and -again at moments seeming so like himself that, in spite of them all, she -could not believe he was going away soon. Why should he? Life was sweet -to him still, and his body, till now, had seemed strong and active. What -was that length of years which people named with a shake of the head as -they mentioned his illness? It was not years that counted in making men -old. It was labor and loss and heartache. The labor was joy to one who -loved it as he did, the simple labor of the fields, and of friendly -service among his fellows. And of loss and heartache there could be none -to sap the springs of life for one whose cheerful faith laid hold of the -eternities like his. It was not time, surely it was not time yet, for -the silver cord to be loosed which bound Ruel Saxon to his work and his -friends. - -So she said to herself with the easy hopefulness of youth, as she -watched the old man lying there with his face on the pillow. He grew -more restless as the hours went on. Memory, while all the other -faculties lay sleeping, seemed to bestir itself with unwonted vigor. -Hymns, quaint and long-forgotten in the churches, rolled one after -another from his lips, and Psalms, so many and with such unhesitating -sureness, that the girl listened marvelling, and wondered if he knew -them all. - -Then there came a change in his voice, and his tone grew more appealing. -It was not recitation now, it was exhortation. He seemed to be warning -sinners, pleading with fellow-Christians. Ah, she caught the meaning. He -thought he was in prayer-meeting again, and the zeal of the place had -eaten him up with its old delight and fervor. She smiled, remembering -that last meeting, and bent her head closer to catch the words. - -A strain of tenderness crept through them now. Solemnly and very slowly -he repeated, "Behold, I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone, a tried -stone, a precious corner-stone, a sure foundation." He paused for a -moment, then, in a voice that was low but strangely clear, went on, "Oh, -my friends, do you mark the word? That precious stone, that head of the -corner, is a _tried_ stone, tried through all the years and proven sure. -_Tried_"--he lingered on the word with unspeakable earnestness--"by whom? -By Abraham, by Moses, and by all the prophets, men who heard the voice -of God and followed where it led them; tried by Peter, by James, and -John, men who saw his face in the face of his Son, and leaned upon his -breast and loved him; tried by all the host of martyrs, who laid down -their lives for his sake, counting it gain for the joy that was set -before them; tried by"--the voice sank almost to a whisper, and the names -of old neighbors and friends fell lovingly one after another, the names -of fellow-farers with him in the journey of life who had passed to their -rest before him. Listening intently, the girl knew them at the last for -some of her own kindred, as he murmured softly, "by Caleb Saxon, by Joel -and Mary, by Rachel my wife," and then, after longer pause, with his -eyes opening wide and a tremor of unutterable joy and humility in the -low glad murmur, "_tried--by--me_." - -A smile flitted over his face, and the eyelids dropped. She thought he -was asleep, and moved noiselessly away lest even her breathing should -disturb him. It was almost an hour later, and the watch on the table -told her it was time for his medicine, when she went again to his side. - -"Grandfather," she said, bending over him; but he did not stir. She laid -her hand on his, and the chill struck to her heart. She started back, -and for a moment stood in her place, almost as white and motionless as -he. Then, with a cry, she flew out of the room, calling to the others to -come, the others who, with all their haste, could never again in the old -way catch word or look of his. - -For he was gone. With that last word, the spirit so bright and eager--ah, -yes! so impatient at moments, so prone to the hasty word, so open to the -little vanities, but sound at the core, and steadfast to bear its part -in sun and storm as any oak on the hills--had stolen away. It was of -himself he had spoken last. They mused on it a little as she told them; -but they knew it was of himself as the humble, the rich recipient of -grace unspeakable, and in that great gladness had passed on to the -Giver. - -They bent around him weeping, the older women, but Esther was too -stunned for tears. She had been alone with Death and had caught no hint -of his presence. She had never guessed that he could come and go as -stealthily as this. There was nothing more that she could do, and they -sent her away, not letting her reproach herself that she had not known. -"It was not strange," they said; and Aunt Elsie added, steadying her -voice for the girl's sake, "It was better so; the kindest way it could -have come." - -It was a wonderful night. The first snow of the season had fallen while -the old man lay dying, and now the moon shone out with a still, white -glory, in which all the world lay new and clean. In the orchard beyond -her window some boughs of trees, cut by the saw of the pruner and not -yet gathered from the ground, lay glistening like great branches of -coral; and the old stone wall had been builded anew, touched with -masonry of silver. Strange how every detail of the scene swept in upon -the girl, as she stood there looking out upon it, wide-eyed and silent! - -It was a picture in which her thoughts would frame themselves again and -again in the years that were coming, when the solemn moods of life -should bring her face to face with the things of the soul. And in that -clearness and stillness, things which had puzzled her grew plain, and -she knew her own heart as she had not known it before. She could not -have explained how it came; but before that great reality of death, the -unrealities of life slipped noiselessly away. The things which had been -of the surface fell off, and the needs, the loves, that were deepest -only were left. To have seen them once in that clear light was to know -them for what they were, and she could not afterward forget. - -They sent word to Stella in the morning, and late that night Tom brought -her from the station. She had not loved her grandfather as Esther -had--she had not so enjoyed his companionship; but the knowledge that he -was gone brought tears and genuine sorrow. - -"Dear old grandfather!" she said, looking down at the still face. "How -we shall miss him! It won't seem like home with him gone." And then she -drew her mother away to talk over the details of the event that was -coming. There must be no flowers about his coffin, only one long -beautiful sheaf of wheat; and she would have no crape on the door, only -a branch of evergreen from the woods he had planted, with a sprig of -myrtle. - -It was at the church that the last services were held. The rooms at the -old house could not have contained the throng that gathered to do him -honor. He had been a diligent attendant at funerals himself, and had -been frankly in favor of extended remarks on the character of the -deceased, even though the custom put the preacher to sore straits -sometimes, when the virtues of the departed were not too many or -luminous. - -Indeed, he had been known to excuse the preacher under such -circumstances for blinking the facts a little. At least he had called -the attention of captious critics to that funeral lament of David's, in -which he distinctly alluded to a very persistent persecutor of his as -"lovely and pleasant,"--language which, to tell the truth, had really -seemed to Ruel Saxon a little excessive, and had led him to wonder at -times what the generous psalmist would have done if he had not been able -to couple Saul's name with Jonathan's. - -There was no lack of words at his own funeral, words spoken with -impressive earnestness and warmth, and it was a tribute to the wide -regard in which Ruel Saxon was held that not only the minister of his -own church, but others from towns around, begged the privilege of a part -in the service. - -"He would have liked it if he had been there; it was a funeral after his -own heart," Stella said, talking it over that evening with Esther. She -drew a long soft sigh, and added, "I declare I can't realize yet that it -was actually grandfather himself. He was trying sometimes, but never -tiresome; and life will lose part of its spice here at home, with him -gone out of it." - -Esther did not reply. Somehow she could not talk about things which were -close to her heart in the cool way Stella could. After a little silence -the latter said: "You'll go to Boston with me, of course, when I go -back. I shall stay at home long enough to get things settled for mother, -and there'll be no need of either of us staying after that." - -"Stella," said Esther, speaking very quietly, "I suppose you'll think -it's strange, but I've decided not to go to Boston." The other started, -and she went on hurriedly, "I should like to be with _you_, and I know -there'd be a great deal to enjoy, but grandfather's dying has changed -everything for the present, and honestly, there's nothing I want now so -much as to be at home." - -For a minute Stella seemed too much surprised to speak. Then she said, -with a peculiar look at her cousin, "There's somebody besides me who'll -be dreadfully disappointed if you don't come." - -Esther returned the look without flinching, though her color rose a -little. "If you mean Mr. Hadley," she said, "I should be very sorry to -think he'd care much, and truly I don't think he would; at least not -after the very first. I shall write to him. I must; for he sent such -kind messages to grandfather, and he'd want to know how it all was at -the last. I think he'll understand how I feel. I can't quite explain it, -but it's home and the home people I want. There's nothing here now that -I care for as I care for them." - -Stella's eyes were on the floor, and she did not raise them as she said, -after a long pause, "I don't quite make you out, Esther, but you are an -awfully nice girl. I wish it wasn't so far between here and Indiana." - -"I shall never think it's far after this," said Esther, giving her -cousin's hand a little squeeze. And then she added cheerfully, "Don't -you think it would be nice to give Mr. Hadley one of grandfather's old -books? There are some of them, you know, that are really very curious, -and he's so fond of those rare old things. I'll tell him that you've -taken one for him; I believe it would please him." - -She had more misgiving as to how Aunt Katharine would receive the news -of her changed intention, but not from her either did she meet any -entreaties. The old woman seemed strangely broken by her brother's -death. It was she beyond all others who had been stricken. An apathy -which was wholly new had settled upon her, and was only shaken off at -moments when she talked of him. - -"I thought he'd outlive me by years," she said to Esther. "I always -twitted him with thinking that he was so much smarter than the rest of -us; but he was, and I used to think, as he did, that he might live to -see his hundred years. I don't know why he shouldn't have had 'em." And -then she added, with a quaver in her voice: "I wish I'd spoke up when he -said what he did the day I came in. I've riled him too, sometimes, when -I needn't, but it took me so by surprise that I couldn't answer then. -All I could think of was that he was going to die." She drew a long -sigh, and ended, "You must do as you think best, child, about going -home. I don't blame you any for changing your plans." - -She went back to her own house the day after the funeral, in spite of -Aunt Elsie's entreaty that she should stay. "It's good of you, Elsie," -she said, with a shake of her head, "and I guess I could live with you -as easy as I could with anybody; but I should miss him more here than I -should anywhere else, and I'd rather be in my own place." - -They let her go, but Aunt Elsie said the last word with affectionate -earnestness, as she passed out at the door: "Don't be sick or in any -kind of trouble without letting us know. I'll do for you there just as -willingly as here if you should happen to need me." - -Three days later Esther was gone too. She took a silent farewell of her -grandfather's room, looked long from the windows at the hills she had -come to love so much and stepped out of the family circle like a -daughter of the house whose place no one else would ever quite fill. -Stella went with her to the depot, and their hands unclasped reluctantly -when the last moment came. There were thoughts which neither whispered -to the other, and they wondered as they looked in each other's eyes -whether the time would ever come when they could fully tell them, but -Esther understood best what the silence held. - -It was that other day over again when she came home to her own, but the -welcome lacked something of the boisterous gladness which had greeted -Kate, and the mother's smile was full of tears as she clasped the girl -in her arms. No one, not even Mrs. Northmore, understood exactly why she -had given up the Boston plan. The grandfather's going away, in the -fullness of his ripe old age, hardly seemed a reason why she should -relinquish pleasures which had looked so bright, and an opportunity -which had meant so much to her. However, they were all most heartily -glad to have her at home again, especially Kate, and the latter felt a -little foolish, remembering that morning at Aunt Katharine's, when it -appeared from Esther's report that the old woman had not objected at all -to her giving up the engagement which she had believed to be planned -with such deep and deadly designs. Really, it seemed that she had lashed -herself up to that affair and been disagreeable on quite gratuitous -grounds. She admitted it, to herself, with her usual frankness, and -thanked her stars, in a strictly private manner, that no one but Aunt -Katharine and herself knew it, save Tom. - -To Mrs. Northmore, watching Esther thoughtfully by the steady light of -mother-love, it seemed that the girl had found real value in the summer. -She seemed somehow older, looking at things more quietly, and with a -leisure from herself which, in spite of her ready sympathy for others, -had too often been wanting in the past. It was an aid against the -restlessness which might have come when a sudden vacancy in one of the -Rushmore schools brought her at Christmas an unexpected offer of the -position. She accepted it with her mother's quick consent, doing good -work and enjoying it, as well as the pay that came with it. Indeed, as -she carried home her check at the end of each month, she was impressed -more than ever with the soundness of certain views of Aunt Katharine's -on the moral value of earning and owning. She wrote to the latter -repeatedly, and once Aunt Katharine replied; but she was not fond of her -pen, and the letter, though affectionate, was brief. - -There were longer letters from Stella, letters of the chatty, personal -sort, with a generous sprinkling of family news. Mr. Hadley was calling -often. If he had sustained any disappointment that the cousins were not -in Boston together, he was apparently consoling himself with the company -of the one who was left. They were going to art lectures and symphony -concerts together, and the married sister had called. - -"It's precisely what ought to happen," Esther said to herself more than -once; and the smile in her eyes as she said it suggested that there was -no vagueness in her mind as to what the happening should be. Sometimes -when the smile was gone a wistful look came in its place, but if she had -any regrets or longings of her own, she told them to no one. - -The spring vacation in the schools came with the Easter, early that -year. Esther laid plans valiantly at the outset for work to be -accomplished in the space between terms, but she had grown thoroughly -tired of her needle on the afternoon of the second day, when her father -announced suddenly that he was going to drive out to the farm. There -were matters connected with the spring planting to be talked over with -Jake Erlock. - -"What do you say to my going with you?" she exclaimed, dropping her -work. "It's ever so long since I went out there, and I feel just like -it." - -There was nothing Dr. Northmore enjoyed more than having one of his -daughters with him when he took a long drive. "That's a capital idea," -he said. "Get your things on quick." - -Spring was coming along the track of the wide straight road by which -they took their way to the pretty uplands which were the doctor's pride -and care. - -Here and there broad fields of wheat were already showing a tender green -from the springing of the grain which had lain all winter under frost -and snow, and between them new-ploughed fields sent up a pleasant smell, -the wholesome smell of the kindly earth turning itself again to the sun -and the rain. - -The little gray house, set back from the road, wore its old shy look, -and the occupant, who greeted them as they drove up to the door, seemed -like one who, in his solitary wintering, might have sat asleep on his -hearth, coming out half timidly now to greet the warmth and stir of the -world. He lost his air of uncertainty as he saw his callers, and -welcomed them to his kitchen, which was orderly as ever, setting chairs -for them about his fire with a bustling hospitality. Esther did not keep -her place long. A few kindly inquiries, a polite listening to his report -of the winter, and then she left the two men together, and slipped away -for a stroll by herself through the orchard and along the edge of the -field where the threshing had gone on so blithely in the summer past. - -The straw-stack was there to remind of it still, not fair and golden -now, but gray and weather-beaten from the winter storms. It had grown -smaller with the passing months, and a great hollow had been worn in its -side by the browsing cattle. On the soft matted floor of this inner -shelter lay two calves, one with its pretty, fawn-like head resting on -the dark red neck of the other. They turned soft wondering eyes to the -girl as she looked in upon them, and a sitting hen, so near the color of -the straw that at first she did not see her, ruffled warningly from her -nest in the side. - -She did not disturb them in their quiet retreat, but sat down for a -little while in the warm friendliness beside their open door, and -thought half-dreamily of that day that was gone. What a bustle of work -had filled the place! She could see the puffing engine sending up its -quick black breath against the sky, and the great crimson machine, like -a chariot, at its back, with Morton Elwell at the front, a charioteer -holding the car of plenty on its way, amid a score of sunburnt -outriders. How confident he had looked as he stood there in his -workman's dress, bare-armed and bare-throated, how strong and steady! - -She smiled at her own fancy. And then the rest of the picture faded, -leaving the one figure alone; but it was not at the threshing she saw -him now, it was at home, at school, on the playground, and everywhere -her comrade, her champion, her friend. Had he been something more in -those old days, and was he still? Ah, if she could be sure of _that_! -The letters had lost the old boyish freedom in these last months. She -had complained once that Morton Elwell took too much for granted. He was -taking nothing now. - -Her father's voice calling from the house roused her at last from her -revery, and they were off again for home. He was thinking too busily of -his summer plans to talk, and she, wrapped in her own thoughts, was glad -of the silence. But she broke it suddenly as they drew near the -substantial brick house which belonged to the Elwells, almost at the end -of the ride. - -"Suppose you let me out here, father," she said. "I haven't been in to -see Mrs. Elwell for weeks, and I've been thinking all the afternoon how -good she was to us last summer at the threshing. I want to go in and -thank her for it over again. I'll come home by myself in a little -while." - -She hesitated a moment whether or not to go in by the back way in the -old familiar fashion, then, for some reason, walked to the front door -and rang the bell. The mistress herself opened it, her hands a little -floury, and a clean gingham apron over her afternoon dress. - -"Well, upon my word!" she exclaimed, starting at the sight of her -caller. "If we weren't talking about you, Esther Northmore, this blessed -minute! Come in, come in. Who do you think is here?" - -She had not time to guess. She had not time to speak the name which rose -with wondering incredulity to her lips when the owner of it himself came -hurrying through the hall to meet her. - -"You!" she cried, fairly springing to meet Morton Elwell. "Why, how does -this happen?" - -"It's vacation for me too," he said, beaming at her in the most radiant -manner. "And--yes, I'll own it. It was a genuine fit of homesickness that -brought me. I've been struggling with it all winter, but it was simply -too much for me when there actually came a halt in the school work. I -_had_ to come. There was no other way." - -"Think of it," said Mrs. Elwell, who looked so happy that there was -almost a halo round her head; "think of his taking that journey and -coming home for a week's vacation, when he could hardly afford a day off -for us all last summer." - -"It does seem as if I'd grown to be something of a spendthrift, doesn't -it?" said the young man. "But you can't hold yourself down all the time. -You have to break loose now and then. And let me tell you,"--they had -reached the sitting room now, and he was sitting between them, looking -from one to the other like a happy child--"let me tell you that I've -taken the Lisper scholarship, and that means my tuition all the rest of -my course. Don't you think I could afford to give myself a glimpse of -home when I wanted it so desperately?" - -They cried, "Oh!" in concert, Mrs. Elwell, whose ideas were a little -vague in regard to scholarships, prolonging hers as if to cover the -comments she ought to make, and Esther adding, with the color sweeping -over her face, "Why, that is splendid, perfectly splendid! I can't tell -you how glad I am." - -"And won't you have to work your way any more?" asked Mrs. Elwell, when -she could get her breath. - -"Oh, yes. I shall have to turn an honest penny for myself now and then," -said her nephew, smiling. "Tuition doesn't cover all the expenses by a -good deal, but it's a big help. Why, I feel quite like a nabob." - -The name, with its sudden reminder of the one to whom Tom Saxon had -mockingly given it in the summer, made Esther laugh. Morton Elwell, with -his brown hands and common suit of clothes, did not look the character -in the least. - -"Well, I'm glad you are _not_ a nabob," she said, meeting his eyes, and -then demurely dropping her own. "Please don't go on to be one so fast -that we can't keep up with you. There are some of us that like the old -ways and have to go slow." - -His face kindled, and he was on the point of saying something, when his -aunt spoke. "Now you children just make yourselves at home," she said, -rising, "and I'll go on and get the supper. I was just fixing to make -some biscuits when you came, Esther. You'll stay to supper, of course." - -"Oh, I must go home in a minute," said the girl. For the first time in -her life she felt a sudden timidity in the thought of a _tête-à-tête_ -with Morton Elwell. "Mother'll expect me." - -"Now what makes you talk like that?" said Mrs. Elwell, in an injured -tone. "Doesn't she know where you are? Of course she won't expect you. -She knows I wouldn't let you go home before supper. Why, you never used -to do that way, and it's ever so long since you were here." - -The logic was unanswerable, and Esther settled back in the chair from -which she had half risen. "She'll stay, Aunt Jenny," said Morton, and he -added, smiling at Esther, "weren't you just saying that some of us liked -the old ways?" - -She took refuge in them swiftly when they were left alone. He must tell -her all about himself, about college, what he had done to gain that -scholarship, and what else he had done. She was all sympathy, all -interest, with all the old responsiveness in her face, and he yielded -himself to the warmth and joy of it as one yields to spring sunshine -after the cold. She grew easier after the first, and presently there was -no chance for embarrassment nor for confidences left; for the senior -Elwell, with Morton's young cousins, came into the room, and then the -talk grew general, though with Morton still at the centre, as was the -newcomer's right, and indeed his necessity with Esther leading him on. - -She was at her best--winsome, adroit, and determined if there was family -pride in this uncle of his, it should bestir itself now. She had grown -even prettier than she used to be, her manners even more charming, the -young man said to himself, and the bounding happiness in her heart might -well have made it true. For there had been a moment, just that moment -before the others came into the room, when she had caught sure knowledge -of the thing she had longed to know. - -He had been telling her of an oratorical contest in which he had borne a -part, and, with a sudden tenderness in his voice, had said, "I wished a -hundred times, while I was preparing my speech, that I could go over it -with you. Do you remember how you always used to let me orate to you -when I had anything on hand for the rhetoricals? It must have been an -awful bore, but somehow I never felt as if I could go on the stage -without your help." - -"And you see you didn't need it after all," she said, looking away. "You -won the medal without me." - -"Oh, but it wasn't without you," he said, leaning toward her and -speaking low, "for I was thinking all the time what you would say if I -won." - -Ah, he could not have said a word like that if some other girl had -stolen her place away! - -The talk was over at last, and the supper too, the good substantial -supper which was always spread at the Elwells'. She could go now. There -was no formality to insist that having eaten she must stay still longer, -and she wanted Morton to herself. She was quite ready for it now, and he -would go home with her of course. - -They had come back, with all the new meaning of it for each, to the old -frankness and freedom, and yet as they took the familiar path across the -fields, in the gathering dusk, it was not easy to speak the thought that -filled both their hearts. They talked for a little while of indifferent -things--of the lengthening days, of the buds swelling on the willows, of -the new buildings rising on a neighbor's place. Then, all at once the -moon, the friendly moon, so kind in all its wanderings to the needs of -lovers, rose up in the sky. It was a new moon, and they saw it at the -same moment over their right shoulders. - -"We must wish a wish, as we used to when we were children," said Esther, -gayly. - -There could never be another moment like this. He stood suddenly still, -and his eyes looked into hers. "Esther," he said, "it seems to me I have -only one wish in the world, it is so much dearer than all the others. If -I could know, if I could surely know--" and then he stopped. That -swelling at his throat which had choked him once before mastered his -voice again, not from fear now, but hope. - -She waited an instant, then, as her hand slipped into his, whispered, -"Do you mean me, Mort? Oh, _do_ you mean me?" - -It had never taken any one so long to cross that field as it did those -two to cross the little space that was left. There was no bar to speech -now, and there was so much to say! He said to her presently, with a note -of perplexity in his voice, "Esther, I have never understood why you -gave up going to Boston this winter. You certainly wanted very much to -go at first." - -"Things changed after grandfather died," she said. She hesitated a -moment, then took refuge in the formula she had used so often to the -others, but with a clause she had not whispered before, as she added, -"Somehow I knew there was nothing I really wanted except to come -home--and have _you_ come too." - -He murmured something rapturous. But he was not quite satisfied yet. -After a little he said, "Esther, do you remember telling me once that if -you had half a chance you'd live a different life from the common -workaday sort; you'd have culture, and leisure, and travel, and all -those things? You did have a chance, didn't you?" - -She flushed. "No one offered it to me," she said. "Perhaps no one ever -would. At any rate--" her voice sounded nervous but happy--"if 'twas 'half -a chance,' I ran away from the other half. I didn't want anything but -you, Mort. I shall have whatever you have, and that's enough." - -He threw back his head and drew a long breath. "Oh, I mean to do so much -for you," he said. "It seems to me I can accomplish anything now." - -There was the murmur of excited talking in the sitting room at the -Northmores' when they opened the door at last. "Well, of all the strange -things she ever did, I call that the strangest," the doctor was saying -in the tone of one grappling with a mystery. - -The two young people looked at each other wondering. Then Esther said, -in a merry whisper, "He doesn't mean me. He'll think I've done the most -sensible thing in the world." - -They walked toward the room, and the next moment Kate was in the hall to -meet them. She was quite pale, and an unusual excitement showed in her -manner. Even the sight of Morton Elwell seemed hardly to divert her -preoccupation. "We heard you had come, and I'm so glad," she said. Then, -turning to her sister, she exclaimed: "Esther, the strangest thing you -ever knew has happened. Aunt Katharine is dead. Mother got a letter just -now." - -"Dead!" repeated Esther. It did not cross her mind to wonder why they -thought this thing so strange. The fact itself filled her with a great -and sudden sadness. "Poor dear Aunt Katharine!" she said, and in the -light of what the last hour had brought to herself the thought of all -the brave old heart had missed, and how stanchly she had borne it, -filled her with a new love and pity. "How did it happen?" - -"She died suddenly," said Kate. "Aunt Elsie wrote about it. But it isn't -that. It's her will! Oh, you can't think how she's left her money. It -seems as if she couldn't have meant it." - -An unmistakable alarm leaped into Esther Northmore's eyes, and she -turned suddenly to Morton Elwell. "We were great friends," she -whispered, in a low hurried tone, "but nothing, nothing could make any -difference now." - -Low as the words were spoken, Kate caught them. "Oh, you darlings! you -darlings!" she cried, throwing an arm round the neck of each. Then, -between laughing and crying, she said hysterically, "But it isn't _you_, -Esther, that she's left her money to. It's _me_! Think of it, _me_!" - -"You!" ejaculated Esther, dropping with a sudden limpness against -Morton's shoulder. "Did she think--" - -Kate pulled her toward the door. The preponderating note in her voice -was laughter now. "Come and hear what she thinks." - -Even Esther could not wait for the details of the letter after this. -Aunt Katharine had gone suddenly, as she always hoped she might, but her -will, which she had directed to be read at once upon her decease, was a -far greater surprise to her relatives. After giving careful directions -for her funeral, she had made her bequests. The document had been drawn -up before her brother's death (by date in the early fall), and her farm, -which joined his, had been left to him, as a permanent part of the Saxon -homestead. To certain persons, who had been in a way dependent on her -kindness, she had left small sums, among them Solomon Ridgeway, to be -used for his support and comfort, "at such times as he may see fit to be -absent from his present residence." (So ran the wording.) To a certain -charitable institution she had left five thousand dollars. To Esther -Northmore, with her love, some personal belongings, and these, as the -girl recognized with a throb at her heart, were those which she had -valued most, and then followed this singular passage. - -"As to the bulk of my property, it has sometimes crossed my mind that -could I know some young woman intelligently devoted to the securing of -those rights which I believe must be accorded to women before the -conditions of society can become true and sane, and willing for the sake -of these, and for the sake of her own independence, to refrain from -marriage, that I would make such young woman my heir. Circumstances -have, however, led me to doubt the probability of finding such a one, as -well as the expediency of the measure. I, therefore, being in my right -mind and of disposing memory, do give and bequeath the residue of my -property, valued at thirty-five thousand dollars, to my grandniece and -namesake, Katharine Saxon Northmore, who, I believe, has will enough of -her own to pursue whatever courses she may see fit, in spite of any man -who might be bold enough to marry her. And to the gift I add this -request, that she will take the trouble to look candidly into those -views which I have maintained. I am confident that her sister Esther -will not misstate them." - -A minute of dead silence followed the reading. Then the doctor burst -forth again: "The idea of leaving a legacy to anybody with a dig like -that! Why couldn't she have been civil about it if she wanted to do it? -Perhaps her notion was to scare the young men off and keep Kate single -after all." - -But Morton Elwell burst out laughing. "Not a bit of it," he said. "A -fellow who didn't think he was mighty lucky to get Kate on any terms -wouldn't deserve to have her, and the old lady knew it. Kate, I call -this glorious!" and he caught her and whirled her around the room at a -rate which left them both breathless. - -"I'll tell you what 'tis, father," she began, with a gasp, when they had -fairly stopped. "I don't intend to have the name without the game, and I -mean to begin to use that money as I please, right away. We'll pay off -that mortgage that has bothered you so, the very first thing." - -"Nonsense," said the doctor; but she went on:-- - -"And maybe, when I get through the rest of my schooling, I'll take a -course in medicine. I always thought I should like to be a doctor. Don't -you think 'Northmore and Northmore' would look well over your office?" - -"Nonsense," he said again, this time more sternly. But he had been known -to say "nonsense" before to some plans which his girls carried out. - -And after a while--"How far do thirty-five thousand dollars go? I _might_ -do something handsome by Mort and Esther," she added, sending a sly look -at the two young people. - -Their sudden blushes told the rest of the story. - -"Well, well!" said the doctor, laying down the paper, "how things are -heaping up to-night!" He sent a glance at his wife, and the look in her -eyes made his own grow moist. "My dear," he said, "this is a pretty good -world of ours, after all. I don't pretend to understand what the cranks -are driving at, but I rather think there are some of the old ways -that'll keep it sweet yet." - - - - -W. A. Wilde Company, Publishers. - -A REVOLUTIONARY MAID, A Story of the Middle Period of the War for -Independence. By Amy E. Blanchard. 321 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - The stirring times in and around New York following the pulling down - of the statue of George the Third by the famous "Liberty Boys," brings - to the surface the patriotism of the young heroine of the story. This - act of the New York patriots obliged Kitty De Witt to decide whether - she would be a Tory or a Revolutionary maid, and a patriot good and - true she became. Her many and various experiences are very - interestingly pictured, making this a happy companion book to "A Girl - of '76." - -THE GOLDEN TALISMAN. By H. Phelps Whitmarsh. 300 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - The narrative is based upon the adventures of a young Persian noble, - who, being forced to leave his own country, leads an army against the - mysterious mountain kingdom of Katfirias. Though defeated and taken - prisoner by the enemy, the hero's talisman saves his life and, later, - leads him into kingly favor. - - A valuable fund of information regarding the various plants, woods, - and animals which furnish the world with perfume is happily interwoven - into the story. - -WHEAT AND HUCKLEBERRIES; Dr. Northmore's Daughters. By Charlotte M. -Vaile. 336 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - Mrs. Vaile has drawn the characters for her new book from the Middle - West. But as the two girls spent their summer at their grandfather's - in New England, a capital groundwork is furnished for giving the local - color of both sections of the country. The story is bright and - spirited and the two girls are sure to find their place among the - favorite characters in fiction. All those who have read the Orcutt - stories will welcome this new book by Mrs. Vaile. - -WITH PERRY ON LAKE ERIE, A Tale of 1812. By James Otis. 307 pp. Cloth, -$1.50. - - The story carries the reader from March until October of 1813, being - laid on Lake Erie, detailing the work of the gallant Perry, who at the - time of his famous naval victory was but twenty-seven years of age. - From the time the keels of the vessels which became famous were laid - until the victory was won which made Perry's name imperishable, the - reader is kept in close touch with all that concerned Perry, and not - only the main facts but the minor details of the story are - historically correct. - - Just the kind of historical story that young people--boys - especially--are intensely interested in. - -BARBARA'S HERITAGE or, Young Americans Among the Old Italian Masters. By -D. L. Hoyt. 325 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - We welcome a book from the pen of Miss Hoyt, whose foreign travel and - study has made possible an exceedingly interesting story, into which - has been interwoven much instructive and valuable information. - - With a desire to broaden the education of her son and daughter by the - opportunities afforded in foreign travel, an American mother takes - them to Italy, and the author in a very happy strain has given us - their many experiences. Replete with numerous illustrations and - half-tones, it makes a handsome and attractive volume. - -W. A. Wilde Company, Boston and Chicago. - - - - -W. A. Wilde Company, Publishers. - -THE QUEEN'S RANGERS. By Charles Ledyard, Norton. 352 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - The thrilling period during the last years of our struggle for - independence forms the groundwork for Colonel Norton's latest work. - - The intense patriotism which prompted our young men to do and dare - anything for their country is shown in the exploits of the three young - heroes. - - By enlisting for a time beneath His Majesty's flag they were able to - give much valuable information to the colonial cause. - - With historical truth the author in this, his latest book, has happily - coupled an exceedingly interesting and instructive story. - -THE ROMANCE OF CONQUEST. The Story of American Expansion through Arms -and Diplomacy. By William E. Griffis. 312 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - In concise form it is the story of American expansion from the birth - of the nation to the present day. - - The reader will find details of every war. Anecdote enlivens the story - from July 4, 1776, down to the days of Dewey, Sampson, and Schley, and - of Miles, Merritt, Shatter, and Otis. It is a book as full of rapid - movement as a novel. - -WHEN BOSTON BRAVED THE KING. A Story of Tea-Party Times. By W. E. -Barton, D. D. 314 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - One of the most absorbing stories of the Colonial-Revolutionary period - published. The author is perfectly at home with his subject, and the - story will be one of the popular books of the year. - - "Though largely a story of boys and for boys, it has the liveliest - interest for all classes of readers, and makes a strong addition to - Dr. Barton's already notable series of historical tales."--_Christian - Endeavor World._ - - "It is a pleasure to read and to recommend such a book as this. In - fact, we must say at the very beginning, that Dr. Barton is becoming - one of the most skilful and enjoyable of American - story-tellers."--_Boston Journal._ - -CADET STANDISH OF THE ST. LOUIS. A Story of Our Naval Campaign in Cuban -Waters. By William Drysdale. 352 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - A strong, stirring story of brave deeds bravely done. A vivid picture - of one of the most interesting and eventful periods of the late - Spanish War. - - "It is what the boys are likely to call 'a rattling good - story.'"--_Cleveland Plain Dealer._ - - "Mr. Drysdale has drawn an effective picture of the recent war with - Spain in his new book. The story is full of dash and fire without - being too sensational."--_Congregationalist._ - -A DAUGHTER OF THE WEST. The Story of an American Princess. By Evelyn -Raymond. 347 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - Interesting, wholesome, and admirable in every way is Mrs. Raymond's - latest story for girls. Descriptions of California life are one of the - fascinations of the book. - - "A well-written story of Western life and adventure, which has for its - heroine a brave, high-minded girl."--_Chronicle Telegraph, Pittsburg._ - - "Laid among the broad valleys and lofty mountains of California every - chapter is crowded full of most interesting experiences."--_Christian - Endeavor World._ - -W. A. Wilde Company, Boston and Chicago. - - - - -W. A. Wilde Company, Publishers. - -WAR OF THE REVOLUTION SERIES. - -By Everett T. Tomlinson. - -THREE COLONIAL BOYS. A Story of the Times of '76. 368 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - It is a story of three boys who were drawn into the events of the - times, is patriotic, exciting, clean, and healthful, and instructs - without appearing to. The heroes are manly boys, and no objectionable - language or character is introduced. The lessons of courage and - patriotism especially will be appreciated in this day.--_Boston - Transcript._ - -THREE YOUNG CONTINENTALS. A Story of the American Revolution. 364 pp. -Cloth, $1.50. - - This story is historically true. It is the best kind of a story either - for boys or girls, and is an attractive method of teaching - history.--_Journal of Education, Boston._ - -WASHINGTON'S YOUNG AIDES. A Story of the New Jersey Campaign, 1776-1777. -391 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - The book has enough history and description to give value to the story - which ought to captivate enterprising boys.--_Quarterly Book Review._ - - The historical details of the story are taken from old records. These - include accounts of the life on the prison ships and prison houses of - New York, the raids of the pine robbers, the tempting of the Hessians, - the end of Fagan and his band, etc.--_Publisher's Weekly._ - - Few boys' stories of this class show so close a study of history - combined with such genial story-telling power.--_The Outlook._ - -TWO YOUNG PATRIOTS. A Story of Burgoyne's Invasion. 366 pp. Cloth, -$1.50. - - The crucial campaign in the American struggle for independence came in - the summer of 1777, when Gen. John Burgoyne marched from Canada to cut - the rebellious colonies asunder and join another British army which - was to proceed up the valley of the Hudson. The American forces were - brave, hard fighters, and they worried and harassed the British and - finally defeated them. The history of this campaign is one of great - interest and is well brought out in the part which the "two young - patriots" look in the events which led up to the surrender of General - Burgoyne and his army. - -The set of four volumes in a box, $6.00. - -SUCCESS. By Orison Swett Marden. Author of "Pushing to the Front," -"Architects of Fate," etc. 317 pp. Cloth, $1.25. - - It is doubtful whether any success books for the young have appeared - in modern times which are so thoroughly packed from lid to lid with - stimulating, uplifting, and inspiring material as the self-help books - written by Orison Swett Marden. There is not a dry paragraph nor a - single line of useless moralizing in any of his books. - - To stimulate, inspire, and guide is the mission of his latest book, - "Success," and helpfulness is its keynote. Its object is to spur the - perplexed youth to act the Columbus to his own undiscovered - possibilities; to urge him not to wait for great opportunities, but to - seize common occasions and make them great, for he cannot tell when - fate may take his measure for a higher place. - -W. A. Wilde Company, Boston and Chicago. - - - - -W. A. Wilde Company, Publishers. - -BRAIN AND BRAWN SERIES. - -By William Drysdale. - -THE YOUNG REPORTER. A Story of Printing House Square. 300 pp. Cloth, -$1.50. - - I commend the book unreservedly.--_Golden Rule._ - - "The Young Reporter" is a rattling book for boys.--_New York Recorder._ - - The best boys' book I ever read.--_Mr. Phillips, Critic for New York - Times._ - -THE FAST MAIL. A Story of a Train Boy. 328 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - "The Fast Mail" is one of the very best American books for boys - brought out this season. Perhaps there could be no better confirmation - of this assertion than the fact that the little sons of the present - writer have greedily devoured the contents of the volume, and are - anxious to know how soon they are to get a sequel.--_The Art Amateur, - New York._ - -THE BEACH PATROL. A Story of the Life-Saving Service. 318 pp. Cloth, -$1.50. - - The style of narrative is excellent, the lesson inculcated of the - best, and, above all, the boys and girls are real.--_New York Times._ - - A book of adventure and daring, which should delight as well as - stimulate to higher ideals of life every boy who is so happy as to - possess it.--_Examiner._ - - It is a strong book for boys and young men.--_Buffalo Commercial._ - -THE YOUNG SUPERCARGO. A Story of the Merchant Marine. 352 pp. Cloth, -$1.50. - - Kit Silburn is a real "Brain and Brawn" boy, full of sense and grit - and sound good qualities. Determined to make his way in life, and with - no influential friends to give him a start, he does a deal of hard - work between the evening when he first meets the stanch Captain - Griffith, and the proud day when he becomes purser of a great ocean - steamship. His sea adventures are mostly on shore; but whether he is - cleaning the cabin of the _North Cape_ or landing cargo in Yucatan, or - hurrying the spongers and fruitmen of Nassau, or exploring London, or - sight seeing with a disguised prince in Marseilles, he is always the - same busy, thoroughgoing, manly Kit. Whether or not he has a father - alive is a question of deep interest throughout the story; but that he - has a loving and loyal sister is plain from the start. - -The set of four volumes in a box, $6.00. - -SERAPH, THE LITTLE VIOLINISTE. By Mrs. C. V. Jamieson. 300 pp. Cloth, -$1.50. - - The scene of the story is the French quarter of New Orleans, and - charming bits of local color add to its attractiveness.--_The Boston - Journal._ - - Perhaps the most charming story she has ever written is that which - describes Seraph, the little violiniste.--_Transcript, Boston._ - -W. A. Wilde Company, Boston and Chicago. - - - - -W. A. Wilde Company, Publishers. - -TRAVEL-ADVENTURE SERIES. - -IN WILD AFRICA. Adventures of Two Boys in the Sahara Desert, etc. By -Thos. W. Knox. 325 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - A story of absorbing interest.--_Boston Journal._ - - Our young people will pronounce it unusually good.--_Albany Argus._ - - Col. Knox has struck a popular note in his latest volume.--_Springfield - Republican._ - -THE LAND OF THE KANGAROO. By Thos. W. Knox. Adventures of Two Boys in -the Great Island Continent. 318 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - His descriptions of the natural history and botany of the country are - very interesting.--_Detroit Free Press._ - - The actual truthfulness of the book needs no gloss to add to its - absorbing interest.--_The Book Buyer, New York._ - -OVER THE ANDES; or, Our Boys in New South America. By Hezekiah -Butterworth. 368 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - No writer of the present century has done more and better service than - Hezekiah Butterworth in the production of helpful literature for the - young. In this volume he writes, in his own fascinating way, of a - country too little known by American readers.--_Christian Work._ - - Mr. Butterworth is careful of his historic facts, and then he - charmingly interweaves his quaint stories, legends, and patriotic - adventures as few writers can.--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._ - - The subject is an inspiring one, and Mr. Butterworth has done full - justice to the high ideals which have inspired the men of South - America.--_Religious Telescope._ - -LOST IN NICARAGUA; or, The Lands of the Great Canal. By Hezekiah -Butterworth. 295 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - The book pictures the wonderful land of Nicaragua and continues the - story of the travelers whose adventures in South America are related - in "Over the Andes." In this companion book to "Over the Andes," one - of the boy travelers who goes into the Nicaraguan forests in search of - a quetzal, or the royal bird of the Aztecs, falls into an ancient idol - cave, and is rescued in a remarkable way by an old Mosquito Indian. - The narrative is told in such a way as to give the ancient legends of - Guatemala, the story of the chieftain, Nicaragua, the history of the - Central American Republics, and the natural history of the wonderlands - of the ocelot, the conger, parrots, and monkeys. - - Since the voyage of the _Oregon_, of 13,000 miles to reach Key West - the American people have seen what would be the value of the Nicaragua - Canal. The book gives the history of the projects for the canal, and - facts about Central America, and a part of it was written in Costa - Rica. It enters a new field. - -The set of four volumes in a box, $6.00. - -QUARTERDECK AND FOK'SLE. By Molly Elliott Seawell. 272 pp. Cloth, $1.25. - - Miss Seawell has done a notable work for the young people of our - country in her excellent stories of naval exploits. They are of the - kind that causes the reader, no matter whether young or old, to thrill - with pride and patriotism at the deeds of daring of the heroes of our - navy. - -W. A. Wilde Company, Boston and Chicago. - - - - -W. A. Wilde Company, Publishers. - -FIGHTING FOR THE FLAG SERIES. - -By Chas. Ledyard Norton. - -JACK BENSON'S LOG; or, Afloat with the Flag in '61. 281 pp. Cloth, -$1.25. - - An unusually interesting historical story, and one that will arouse - the loyal impulses of every American boy and girl. The story is - distinctly superior to anything ever attempted along this line - before.--_The Independent._ - - A story that will arouse the loyal impulses of every American boy and - girl.--_The Press._ - -A MEDAL OF HONOR MAN; or, Cruising Among Blockade Runners. 280 pp. -Cloth, $1.25. - - A bright, breezy sequel to "Jack Benson's Log." The book has unusual - literary excellence.--_The Book Buyer, New York._ - - A stirring story for boys.--_The Journal, Indianapolis._ - -MIDSHIPMAN JACK. 290 pp. Cloth, $1.25. - - Jack is a delightful hero, and the author has made his experiences and - adventures seem very real.--_Congregationalist._ - - It is true historically and full of exciting war scenes and - adventures.--_Outlook._ - - A stirring story of naval service in the Confederate waters during the - late war.--_Presbyterian._ - -The set of three volumes in a box, $3.75. - -A GIRL OF '76. By Amy E. Blanchard. 331 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - "A girl of '76" lays its scene in and around Boston where the - principal events of the early period of the Revolution were enacted. - Elizabeth Hall, the heroine, is the daughter of a patriot who is - active in the defense of his country. The story opens with a scene in - Charlestown, where Elizabeth Hall and her parents live. The emptying - of the tea in Boston Harbor is the means of giving the little girl her - first strong impression as to the seriousness of her father's - opinions, and causes a quarrel between herself and her schoolmate and - playfellow, Amos Dwight. - -A SOLDIER OF THE LEGION. By Chas. Ledyard. Norton. 300 pp. Cloth, $1.50. - - Two boys, a Carolinian and a Virginian, born a few years apart during - the last half of the eighteenth century, afford the groundwork for the - incidents of this tale. - - The younger of the two was William Henry Harrison, sometime President - of the United States, and the elder, his companion and faithful - attendant through life, was Carolinus Bassett, Sergeant the old First - Infantry, and in an irregular sort of a way Captain of Virginian - Horse. He it is who tells the story a few years after President - Harrison's death, his granddaughter acting as critic and amanuensis. - - The story has to do with the early days of the Republic, when the - great, wild, unknown West was beset by dangers on every hand, and the - Government at Washington was at its wits' end to provide ways and - means to meet the perplexing problems of national existence. - -W. A. 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