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diff --git a/42370.txt b/42370.txt deleted file mode 100644 index cd66808..0000000 --- a/42370.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8915 +0,0 @@ - ROUND THE CORNER IN GAY STREET - - - - -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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: Round the Corner in Gay Street -Author: Grace S. Richmond -Release Date: March 18, 2013 [EBook #42370] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROUND THE CORNER IN GAY STREET -*** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: Cover] - - - - -[Illustration: "'HERE YOU ARE--YOU DON'T HALF LET ME HELP YOU'"] - - - - - _ROUND THE CORNER - IN GAY STREET_ - - - _By_ GRACE S. RICHMOND - - - - AUTHOR OF - "With Juliet in England," - "The Indifference of Juliet," etc. - - - - ILLUSTRATED BY - MAUD THURSTON AND CHARLES M. RELYEA - - _A. L. BURT COMPANY_ - _Publishers -- New York_ - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1907, 1908, BY - PERRY MASON COMPANY - - COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY - DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY - PUBLISHED, AUGUST, 1908 - - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION - INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN - - - - PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES - AT - THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N.Y. - - - - - TO - MARJORIE, GUERNSEY AND JEAN - - - - - CONTENTS - - - BOOK I. GAY STREET - -CHAPTER - - I. An Introduction by Telephone - II. Gay Street Settles Down - III. Peter Sees a Light - IV. Forrest Plays a Trick - V. Without Gloves - VI. Weeds and Flowers - VII. Jane Puts a Question - VIII. Murray Gives an Answer - IX. Snap Shots - X. Hide and Seek - XI. In the Garden - - - BOOK II. WORTHINGTON SQUARE - - I. Jane Wears Pearls - II. Shirley Has Grown Up - III. Luncheon for Twelve - IV. Pot-hooks - V. Black Care - VI. A Breakdown - VII. Christmas Greens - VIII. Peter Reads Rhymes - IX. A Red Glare - X. Peter Prefers the Porch - - - - - BOOK I. GAY STREET - - - - CHAPTER I - - AN INTRODUCTION BY TELEPHONE - - -The hour for breakfast at the home of Mr. Harrison Townsend, in -Worthington Square, was supposed to be eight o'clock. In point of fact, -however, breakfast was usually served from that hour on, until the last -laggard had appeared. - -The head of the house himself was always promptly on hand at eight. On -the morning of April second he had, as usual, nearly finished his -breakfast before the door opened to admit a second member of the family. -Mr. Townsend raised his eyes as a tall and slender figure limped slowly -across the floor. - -"Morning, Murray!" he said, and dropped his eyes again to his paper. - -"Good morning, sir!" responded his son, and glanced indifferently over -the table as he sat down. "Bring me grapefruit and a cup of coffee," he -said to the maid. "No, nothing else. Be sure the grapefruit is fixed -as I like it." - -Mr. Townsend finished his newspaper and his coffee at the same moment, -and rose from the table. Although five minutes had elapsed since the -elder of his two sons came into the room, no conversation had passed -between them. Mr. Townsend's glance dropped upon the young man, who, -with his look of ill health, would have appeared to a stranger to have -lived several more than the twenty-three years which were really his. - -"You're not feeling well this morning, Murray?" - -"About as usual." - -"It's not strange that you have no strength, when you take nothing -substantial with your morning meal." - -"How can I, when I can't bear the sight of anything but fruit?" - -"You don't get out enough." - -"I suppose I don't. There's nothing to take me out." - -Mr. Townsend turned away. As he passed through the door, he met his -daughter Olive, and greeted her. - -This very pretty, dark-skinned, dark-eyed girl of eighteen evidently had -been keeping late hours on the previous evening. Her long lashes -drooped sleepily over her eyes as she nodded to her brother. - -"Grapefruit any good?" she asked. - -"Fair, if it wasn't sweetened like a bonbon." - -"I like mine sweet. Annie, tell Gretchen to put half a dozen maraschino -cherries in my grapefruit and some crushed ice." - -"You must like the mess that will be," Murray observed. - -"I do--very much," replied his sister, decidedly. - -The two continued their breakfast in silence, which was presently -interrupted by the advent of a fourth member of the family. Forrest -Townsend, flinging into the room with a rush, dressed in riding clothes, -and casting hat and crop upon a chair as he passed it, offered a -picturesque contrast to the two dark-eyed young persons. Of a little -more than medium height, strongly built, fair-haired and blue-eyed, he -looked the young athlete that he was. - -"Hello!" was his morning greeting, as he dropped into a chair. He -proceeded instantly to give his directions to the maid. No invalid -order was his. - -"No--no grapefruit. I want my chop, and some bacon and eggs; tell -Gretchen to brown the eggs better than she did yesterday. Muffins this -morning? What? Oh bother! You know I hate toast, Annie! Oh, -waffles--that's better! Coffee, of course." - -"Sounds like an order you 'd give at a hotel," observed his sister, with -scorn. "I wonder Gretchen does n't make a fuss at having to cook a -whole breakfast like that just for you. Nobody else wants such a heavy -meal at this hour." - -"The bigger geese you all are then. If I picked at my breakfast the way -the rest of you do, I 'd soon lose this good muscle and wind of mine." - -"I never heard that hot waffles and syrup were good for muscle and -wind." Murray looked cynical under his dark eyebrows. "They would n't -be allowed at any training-table." - -Forrest leaned back in his chair and surveyed his brother. "A lot you -know about training tables--a fellow who spent his two college years -cramming for honours," he said, pointedly. "No wonder you look like a -pale ghost on such rations. Here comes mother at last." - -Mrs. Harrison Townsend, in a trailing pale blue gown, her fair hair -piled high upon her head, came in with an air of abstraction. - -"Out late last night?" Forrest asked her, attacking his chop with -relish. "A dissipated lot you all look but me. Even Murray would be -taken for a chap that got in toward morning. That comes of reading in -bed. Now look at me. I was in after the last of you, and I 'm as fresh -as a daisy." - -"For a boy not out of his teens your hours strike me as peculiar." -Murray rose slowly as he spoke. He glanced at his mother. She was busy -with letters she had found at her plate. - -Murray limped slowly over to the end of the room, where a great -semi-circular alcove, filled with windows, a cushioned seat running -round its whole extent, looked out upon the shrubbery and the street -beyond. He sank down upon this seat, and gazed indifferently out of the -window. - -Across the narrow side street which led away from stately Worthington -Square into a much less pretentious neighborhood stood a big furniture -van, unloading its contents before a small brown house. Although upon -the left side of the Townsend place lay a fine stretch of lawn, at the -right the house stood not more than ten yards away from the side street. -Its present owner had attempted to remedy this misfortune of site by -planting a thick hedge and much shrubbery, but a narrow vista remained -through which, from the dining-room windows, the little brown house -opposite could be seen with the effect of being viewed through a -field-glass and brought into close range. - -"What's that over there in Gay Street?" Olive had caught a glimpse of -the furniture-van. "New people moving in? Goodness! How many tenants -has that house had? They 're always moving out and moving in--nobody -can keep track of them." - -Mrs. Townsend, looking up from her letter, glanced out in her turn. -"There is certainly no need to keep track of them," she observed. "What -your Grandfather Townsend could have been thinking of when he built this -house on the very edge of such a fine lot----" - -"Grandfather Townsend was a shrewd old man, and had an eye to the sale -of lots on the farther side of the house when land got high here," was -Forrest's explanation. - -Five minutes later he was out of the house and crossing the lawn to the -stables--a gay and gallant young figure in his riding clothes. From the -window of his own room upstairs Murray watched his brother go, feeling -bitterly, as he often did, the contrast between Forrest's superb young -health and his own crippled condition, the result of an accident two -years before, and the illness which had followed it. - -"Don't get outdoors enough!" he said to himself. "I fancy if I could go -tearing out of the house like that every morning, jump on Bluebottle, -and gallop off down Frankfort Boulevard I could get outdoor air enough -to keep me healthy." - -An hour afterward there was a knock at his door, and a child's voice -called: "O Murray, may I come in?" - -His thirteen-year-old sister Shirley somehow seemed nearer to Murray -than any other member of his family. "Come in!" he responded. - -"O Murray," the little sister began instantly, "some new people are -moving into the little brown house, and there 's a girl just my age! She -looks so nice! I 've been watching her. She 's helping wash windows. -Oh, please come into the den and let me show you!" - -From the 'den' it could all be seen. There were two girls on the small -porch, each washing a window. The elder girl looked as if she were -about eighteen, her abundant curly hair, of a decided reddish brown, -being worn low at her neck after the fashion of girls of that age. Even -across the street the observers could see that she had a merry face, -full of life and colour. - -The younger girl, was about Shirley's size, round-faced and sturdy, and -apparently of an amiable frame of mind, for having accidentally tipped -over her pail, she took the mishap in the jolliest spirit, and throwing -back her thick brown braids of hair, mopped up the swimming porch with -lively flourishes. - -"I wish we could see 'em closer," suggested Shirley. "They look so -nice--don't you think they do?--not a bit like the other people that -have lived in that house. I saw their mother, I 'm sure I did, a little -while ago--she had the dearest face! Murray, don't you think you 'd -like to take a little walk? It would be such fun to go past the house -while they 're out there, and they 'd be sure to turn and look, so we -could see their faces. Please, Murray! We may not have so good a -chance after they get the windows washed." - -It was something to do, certainly. Motives of interest for the daily -walk upon which the doctors insisted were few, and the older brother -gladly followed his anxious young leader out into the spring sunshine. -Slowly, Murray's cane tapping their advance, they turned the corner from -Worthington Square into Gay Street. - -Coming rapidly toward them from the opposite direction was a young -fellow of about Murray's age. This youth, looking toward the brown -house, gave a low whistle. The girls upon the porch turned and waved -their cloths, and the newcomer, making three leaps of the short path to -the house, and one jump of the low porch, was with them. - -They did not shout, those three, and the elder girl's voice, Murray -noted, was delightfully modulated; but he and Shirley were close now, -and they could not help hearing the greeting. - -"Hard at it already? Everything come? I got off for an hour, and -thought I 'd rush up and do what I could." - -"That was lovely of you, Pete," said the elder girl. A surreptitious -glance from Murray, and a frank stare from Shirley, proved her to -possess a very attractive face, indeed, as she smiled at the stoutly -built young man before her. "Yes, everything has come, and mother can -keep you busy every minute. Window-washing would n't _seem_ to come -first, but we thought we 'd get at least this little front room in order -by night, so that when you all came home----" - -Her voice was growing indistinct as the passers-by moved reluctantly on. -But the younger girl at this point broke in, and her voice, high and -eager like Shirley's own, carried farther: - -"O Petey, Jane and I are to have the dearest, littlest room you ever -saw, right under the eaves. Jane can't stand up all over, but I -can--except close to the wall. It's so little, Jane thinks we can paper -it ourselves. If we can only----" - -Here the deeper voice of the youth interrupted, and nothing more was -distinguishable. Murray and Shirley walked on, both, it must be -confessed, wishing they had eyes in the backs of their heads. - -"Oh, do let's turn and go back!" begged Shirley, with one quick glance -behind. But Murray made her keep on to the corner, and then insisted on -crossing the street. - -"Even now they may guess that we 're watching them," he said. "Don't -stare so at them, child." - -"But they're going in. Oh, look,"--she clutched his arm--"there's the -mother! I'm sure she is. Look! Isn't she dear?" - -She did look "dear." She was enveloped in an apron, and her sleeves -were rolled up to the elbows revealing a pair of round, white, capable -arms. Her abundant gray hair rolled and puffed about her face in a most -girlish fashion, her bright, dark eyes were set under arching eyebrows, -and her face, almost as fresh in colouring as her daughter's, was full -of charm. - -The young man, laughing, put an arm about her shoulders, and drew her -back with him into the house. The two girls, gathering up their pails -and cloths, and exchanging low, gay talk, followed, and the door was -closed. - -The April sunshine suddenly faded out of the narrow side street and left -it as commonplace as ever. Yet not quite. Murray and Shirley, gazing -across at the dull little brown house. were longing to enter it. It was -quite evident that life of a sort they hardly knew was about to be lived -within. - -With this new interest to stimulate him, it was perhaps not strange that -Murray should have found it rather easier than usual to get out for his -afternoon walk, or that it should have ended by a slow progress through -Gay Street. There were somehow so few young people he cared for, and -the faces of the three he had seen had struck him as so interesting, -that he wondered, as he tapped along with his cane, by what means he -could learn to know them. - -Just as Murray came along the street, the younger of the two girls he -had seen opened the door, and holding it ajar, addressed somebody inside -in her childishly penetrating voice: - -"I 'm going to find a telephone somewhere, Janey, if I have to ring at -every door. No--I 'll _tell_ them we are n't the sort of people who -borrow molasses and telephones and things all the time, but---- Why, I -'ll say it's _very_ important--_anybody_ would understand about -wall-paper not coming and the man waiting. No, I don't suppose they -have in such a little house, but it won't do any harm to ask. Of -course, across the street they'd have--but I don't quite---- No, of -course I won't, but----" - -She ended an interview which evidently was not proceeding according to -her satisfaction by closing the door and running down the steps into the -street. Murray wanted very much to speak to her and offer the use of -his telephone, but she whisked away so fast he had no time. He walked -more slowly than ever, saw her turn away from two Gay Street doors, and -then retraced his steps, and met her as she was preparing to ascend the -third small porch. - -"I beg your pardon," he said, "but I thought I heard you say something -about needing to use a telephone. Won't you please come over and use -ours--the house on the corner?" - -"Oh, thank you!" She looked relieved. "That's good of you. We hate to -bother anybody like this, and Jane--my sister--did n't want me to, but -the paper man is waiting, and he 's getting very cross, and we do want -to get the dining-room done before night. I 'll go and tell Jane. She -'ll have to telephone. I can't--I don't know how!" - -She ran into the house, and a moment later the elder sister emerged, and -came down to Murray to accept his courtesy. - -"It's very kind of you," she said, as he accompanied her across the -street and in at the hedge gate. "To-morrow happens to be a legal -holiday, you know, and the paperer says if he does n't have the right -paper this afternoon it will be three days before he can finish." - -"That would be an awful bother," Murray declared, "just as you 're -getting settled. I 'm glad we 're so near. Come in. This way, please. -Take this chair here by the desk. I 'll just wait in the hall and show -you the way out." - -As he waited, Murray could not help hearing. The business did not seem -to be easily accomplished. When his visitor had succeeded in getting -the paper house on the telephone she had a very bad time making the man -at the other end of the line understand about the mistake in the paper, -and when it became plain that he did understand, Jane's surprised little -sentences showed that he was a most unaccommodating person, and would -not do what she requested. - -"You can't do it?" she asked, and Murray observed that with all the -trouble she was having her voice did not lose its courteous intonations. - -"Not this afternoon _at all_? We are very anxious to get the room -settled and the paperer says---- Yes, I know, but it surely was n't our -mistake. I beg your pardon--it 's only three o'clock, I think, not -four. He says there 's plenty of time if---- No, I 've nobody to -send." - -"Look here!" Murray's disgusted voice was at her ear. He was gently -attempting to take the receiver away from her. "Let me tackle that -person, please." - -The next moment Jane was standing beside the desk, her cheeks rosy with -a quite reasonable indignation at the treatment she had been receiving -from the surly unknown. At the telephone sat her new acquaintance, -sending rapid requests over the wire in a tone which plainly was making -somebody attend. - -"Not fix up your own mistake to-night--with to-morrow a holiday? Why -not? There's plenty of time. Send by a special messenger, of course, -and tell him to be quick. Who's talking to you? That does n't make any -special difference, does it? It may be a small order--I don't see what -that has to do with it. Mrs. Bell needs that paper up within half an -hour. Yes--well, this is Harrison Townsend's house--Worthington Square, -and I 'm telephoning for our friends. What? Oh, you will! Well, thank -you! I 'm glad you see your way clear. Yes--half an hour--I say, make -it twenty minutes, can't you, please? Very well." And Murray broke -off, and hung up the receiver with an impatient click which expressed -his contempt for a clerk who would hurry up an order for Worthington -Square when he would n't do it for Gay Street. - -"Idiot!" he remarked. - -The girl beside him moved toward the door, smiling. "It was ever so -kind of you," she said. "The paper is for the dining-room, and you can -guess how it upsets things to have the dining-room in confusion." - -"I hope you didn't mind my telling that fellow you were our friends," -said Murray, as he accompanied his guest to the door. "Such near -neighbours----" - -"Oh, I understood! That was what made it so easy for him to get a -messenger! Only--please don't think we----" - -"Yes?" Murray was smiling encouragingly at her. - -"It sounds absurd, but--it's so dreadfully soon to be borrowing -telephones----" - -"Or molasses?" - -They both laughed. Murray's hand lingered upon the door knob, which at -this moment it became timely for him to turn for her. "I could n't help -hearing your sister assuring you that she would tell people you never -borrowed molasses. I don't see why not. We might need to borrow it of -you some time, but of course if you feel there's something especially -prohibitive about molasses----" - -He knew he was not saying anything brilliant, but it made her laugh -again, and laughing is an excellent way of getting over a trying -situation. - -But he was obliged to open the door for her without delay, for she -plainly was not going to be tempted into lingering. She ran down the -steps, and he saw her bronze-red hair catch the sunshine as she went. -As she reached the bottom he called after her: "I hope you'll like that -paper mighty well when it's on!" - -"Thank you!" he heard her answer, over her shoulder, and he was sure -that she was still smiling. It seemed to him reasonably certain that -the Bells were pleasant people to know. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - GAY STREET SETTLES DOWN - - -Tramp, tramp, upon the little porch. Peter flung the door wide, and in -marched the four male members of the house of Bell. The door opened -hospitably at once into the living-room, so that the four were able at a -glance to see what had been accomplished, and they immediately gave -voice to their surprise. "Hi!" This was fifteen-year-old Rufus's -exclamation. "Hi! hi! Hip, hip, hurray-ay!" - -"Well, well, they must have worked!" said Peter. "I was up here an hour -this morning, and they had n't got further than washing the windows." - -"When it comes to hustling work, Mother Bell and corps can't be beaten," -declared Ross McAndrew, the cousin of the Bells, a pleasant-faced lad of -eighteen. - -There was a rush from the rear of the house, and Nancy was upon -them--Nancy, the twelve-year-old, with the thick brown braids and the -round, bright face. Ross caught her and swung her up to his shoulder, -where she struggled frantically. - -"I 'm too old, Ross!" she pleaded, rumpling his curly fair hair in -revenge until it stood on end. "Put me down! Put me down at once! -O-oh, you 're bumping my head against the ceiling!" - -He looked up and laughing swung her gently down. "It is n't a very -lofty apartment, is it, Nan? Did it hurt?" - -"Only my feelings. Does n't it look nice here? Mother worked at the -kitchen, and Jane and I did all this. We wanted it to look like home -when you came." - -"It does, indeed. But I must admit I 'm glad mother kept at the -kitchen," laughed her father, with a tweak of one fat braid. "It seems -too much to expect that we should have a meal to-night in all the -disorder, but Peter brought back word this morning that we were to -come." - -"Indeed you are," said a voice from an inner doorway, and everybody -turned. A fresh white apron tied about her trim waist--where did she -find it in the confusion?--her beautiful hair in careful order, Mrs. -Bell beamed at her big family. "We've nothing but an Irish stew for -you, but we had it on this morning as soon as the fire was built, and -it's tender and fine." - -"Good for you! We like nothing better. Where's Janey?" - -"In the kitchen, trying to make places for you all at the kitchen table. -We could n't do anything with the dining-room. The paperer has only -just gone." - -"Come on, you people!" called a blithe voice from the next room, and -Jane's face looked over her mother's shoulder. "Turn to the right as -you come through the door, and follow the wall round. I 've made a -passage that way, but you 're likely to get into perilous places if you -try to steer for yourselves." - -In single file they followed directions, all but young Rufus, who -preferred leaping from box to barrel, and from table to trunk, and so -reached the haven of the kitchen first. - -"_Whoo-p!_" he ejaculated. "Say, but this is jolly! _Mm-m_! Smell -that stew? Hope you 've lots of it?" - -"All you can eat," responded Jane, confidently. "Now if you 'll let me -seat you all, I 'll make a place for every one. Mother to go first, at -the other end, in the chair--our only one available as yet. Next, Ross, -on the cracker-box, and Nan on the wood-box. Daddy's to have this -soap-box all to himself, with a cushion on it. Peter can sit on that -coal-hod, turned upside down." - -There was a roar at this, and a protest from Peter. "'Can't I have a -newspaper to pad the top of it, sis?" - -"If you will find one," Jane responded, unmoved. "Rufe will have to -take the top of that flour-barrel, and we 'll hand up his things." - -Mrs. Bell was a famous cook, and understood well the quantity of food -necessary to appease the keen appetites of her big family, so the bowls -were replenished again and again, until all were satisfied, and still -the kettle was not quite empty. - -"You're not much like a girl I saw to-day, Janey," remarked Peter, -balancing himself in the attempt to sit comfortably back upon his -coal-hod, while his sister removed the plates and set forth a dish of -baked apples and cream. Peter laughed at the recollection. "She was -too stately and languid to lift her eyes to look at me, after the first -frosty glance. We rode up town on the same street car yesterday, when I -was coming here to make sure the house was ready for us. It was the -rush hour, of course, and I gave her my seat. I think--yes, I really -think"--Peter paused to reflect--"she said, 'Thank you,' though since of -course I was n't looking at her as I took off my hat I did n't see her -lips move. She and I got off the car together, and came up Gay Street -together----" - -[Illustration: "'YOU 'RE NOT MUCH LIKE A GIRL I SAW TODAY, JANEY'"] - -"Together!" from Jane. - -"On opposite sides of the street. She was a little ahead, for the car -stopped on her side. I looked across at her with interest as I came -along--wanted to find out what our neighbors were like, you know. She -was carrying a big muff, and had some things in it--been shopping, of -course. Oh, I don't mean parcels--she would n't be caught carrying a -parcel--but letters and a purse and a card-case and a -pocket-handkerchief, and so forth. Well, as we came along I noticed she -had dropped something--handkerchief, by the way it fluttered down. Of -course I bolted across the street, through six inches of spring mud, -grasped the article, and rushed after her. I said, 'Pardon me, but you -dropped your handkerchief,' and held it out. She took it, murmured -'Thank you!'--I saw her lips move this time--"and sailed on like a -queen. I took off my hat, waded back through the mud, and was -continuing on my thankless way----" - -"Thankless!--I thought you just admitted she thanked you," objected -Ross, with a twinkle. - -"It was one of those thankless thank-yous, just the same," explained -Peter, with gravity. "Well, as I say, I went on--like this -story--meditating upon her cordial manner, when I saw something else -fall from the capacious muff." - -"You didn't!" Jane looked incredulous. - -"Pardon me, I did. This time I did not bolt across the street; indeed, -I stopped to consider whether I should not shout, 'Hi, hi, there, you -'ve dropped your purse, lady!' like a street gamin. But reflecting on -the embarrassment this might cause me at some future date, when she and -I should really meet, I picked my way across again, seized the -pocketbook, and was about to pursue her, when she looked round and -caught me in the act of scrutinizing it, as one naturally does upon -picking up a gold-mounted, aristocratic affair like that, the like of -which he expects never----" - -"Oh, go on!" Rufus could no longer endure his brother's tantalising -eloquence. - -"I hastened to her side," continued Peter, who was gifted in the art of -putting things elaborately when he chose, "and remarked, 'I believe this -is yours?' She--now what, friends, would you naturally expect a girl to -do on receiving the third favour from a stranger within fifteen -minutes?" - -"What did you expect? Did you suppose she would fly into your----" - -"Did you want her to open the pocketbook and hand you a quarter, saying, -'Here, my honest lad----'" - -"Think she 'd say, 'You must call and see father. He will give you a -position in his----'" - -"Your suggestions are far-fetched and improbable. I expected none of -these things to happen. But consider the situation. Here was I, -crossing the street for the third time in the mud----" - -"Go on!" - -"Would n't you have thought, considering the absurdity of the -affair--her strewing things along the street like that--the least she -could have done would have been to----" - -"Smile!" supplied Jane. "_Did n't_ she, Peter?" - -"She did not," avowed Peter. "She just looked at me as if she thought I -had been about to steal her purse, took it, and went on, this time -without saying thank you!" - -"Good gracious!" This from Ross. "She must be a nice girl to know. -And you look pretty well, too, Pete, in that blue suit." - -"Where does she live?" Nancy inquired, her round face sympathetic with -Peter's mock humiliation. - -"In the big house across the street. If you get out of milk or eggs, -Janey, don't hesitate to run across and borrow some," counselled Peter. - -"Now if you 'll just make use of us all this evening," proposed Mr. -Bell, rising, "we can accomplish a good deal--eh, boys? Shall I open -the boxes and barrels, Martha?" - -At this suggestion three more pairs of strong arms were put at Mrs. -Bell's service. She set every one at work at once. - -"Yes, Joe, dear," she agreed, "if you will open the boxes, I 'll take -out the things and put them in place as far as I can. That's right, -Nancy, you help Jane with the dishes, and when they are done you can go -up stairs and make up the beds. Ross and Peter----" - -"Yes, we 'll set up the beds," said Peter, with alacrity, anticipating -the division of work, "and uncrate the chests of drawers and the bedroom -furniture generally. Come on, Ross. You 're as much one of the family -as any of us now, since you helped us move, and a little family labour -like this will complete the job. Whoever lives with us has to learn to -be handy man about the house." - -"I 'm ready." Ross looked it. There was an air of alertness about him, -for he was slimmer and lighter than Peter, and his fair curly hair made -him appear much younger, although only two years separated the ages of -the cousins. - -"You will find the furniture mostly in the rooms where it belongs," Mrs. -Bell called after them. "Jane will be up soon and straighten you out, -if you get mixed. Rufus, suppose you go round after the others and -bring away all the litter they leave after the uncrating, and make a -neat pile of it in the wood-shed." - -The steep and narrow little staircase ascended abruptly between walls -from the dining-room and led to low-ceiled regions above, which, to the -eyes of Murray and Shirley Townsend, from the big house across the -street, facing Worthington Square, would have seemed too cramped and -small of dimensions to be habitable, to say nothing of the possibility -of their ever being made comfortable. But the Bells were of the sort -who make the best of everything, and so far none of them had suggested -that the little house was not an abode fit for the finest. - -"Jane and Nan in one room, Rufe and I in another, and Mr. Ross McAndrew -alone in state in this little one in the corner. I judge by the signs -that's the stowing of the crowd intended," speculated Peter, surveying -each room in turn. - -"That corner room's as big as any. I don't think I ought to have it all -to myself," objected Ross. - -"What, not that spacious eight-by-nine apartment, with one whole side -under the eaves?" laughed Peter. "Well, since we can't split ourselves -into halves, and like the family of the famous poem 'we are seven,' I -don't see but you 'll have to make the best of your loneliness. The beds -are only three-quarters size, and Rufe takes up less room than you do, -so he and I naturally chum it." - -"All right. Let's make a start. Catch hold of that bureau, and heave -it around into place." - -They fell to work with a will. Ross, the more lightly built, showed the -greater energy of the two, though Peter worked away quite as steadily. -But after an hour of hard labour Peter called a halt. - -"Oh, let's put it through," and Ross bent over a box with undiminished -ardour. - -His attitude appealed to Peter, spoiling for fun after a long day at the -factory, and in a twinkling he had tipped his cousin head first into the -nearly empty box. Shouts, laughter and a lively scuffle ensued--so -lively a scuffle, indeed, that Mr. Bell, Jane and Nancy, in the -dining-room below, energetically sweeping up the litter made by the -paperer, smiled at one another in mock dismay as the floor above -resounded with the pounding and scraping of boot-heels, and the very -walls of the small house trembled with the fray. - -"Goodness, I should think it was elephants up there!" cried Nancy, and -ran half-way up the stairs to see what was going on. - -Mr. Bell opened his mouth to say, "Tell them it's an old house, Nan, and -the ceiling 's cracked"--when the thing happened. - -The ceiling was old, the house was not too solidly built, and the battle -above had reached its height when, quite without warning, down upon the -freshly cleaned floor fell a great mass of plaster. The powdery lime -rose in a suffocating cloud and covered Jane and her father with dust -and debris. - -It was a minute more before the combatants, wrestling furiously over the -bare floors above, could be made to understand by a horrified young -person, who shrieked the news at them from the top of the staircase, the -havoc they had wrought. - -But when they comprehended what had happened they hurried downstairs. - -"Well, of all the----" Ross was too shocked to finish. - -"I say, but we've done it now, have n't we?" exclaimed Peter, in -disgust. "Janey--dad--it did n't hurt you, did it?" - -"Only my pride--and my hair," answered Jane, as she vainly tried to -brush her curly locks free from plaster. - -"It's a shame! Why didn't you stop us? Clumsy louts! Pulling the place -down about our ears the very first night!" - -"And how we hurried that paper man, to get him through to-night!" -lamented Nancy, brushing off her father with anxious fingers. "We were -going to have the dining-room all settled to-morrow----" - -"And to-morrow 's a holiday," murmured Jane, from under her hair. - -She was bending forward, with her head at her knees, while Mrs. Bell -shook out the clinging lumps from the tangle of hair in which they were -caught. - -"It's a quarter of ten," announced Rufus, cheerfully. "Do we have to -clear this up to-night?" - -"I should say so!" Ross caught up a broom. - -"It's the least we can do. Get a box, will you, Rufe, and let's have -the worst over. Pete and I will do the job, and the rest of you can go -upstairs and dance a hornpipe over our heads. If you will throw things -at us from time to time down the stairs it may relieve your feelings." - -"Don't feel too badly. I had a notion all the time that that ceiling -ought to have been pulled down before we papered the room; it looked old -and shaky to me. Now we 'll have a new one that will stand -pillow-fights as long as we live here," said Mrs. Bell, smiling at the -rueful countenance of her nephew. - -"Right you are, and I'll have a man here to put that plaster on in the -morning, holiday or no holiday," promised Peter. - -In ten minutes the plaster had been swept up, Jane's hair had received a -thorough brushing, Mr. Bell had been relieved of several lumps which had -worked their way down his back, and the family went to bed in as good -spirits as if nothing had happened. - -The next morning Peter started early in quest of a plasterer to restore -the ceiling, and finding it by no means easy to discover one who cared -to work when he might play, came home after two hours' search baffled -but still determined. A passing acquaintance gave him a clue, and he was -presently hurrying across the street in search of the Townsends' -coachman, whose brother, the acquaintance had said, might be persuaded -to do the job. - -In the stables, much to his astonishment, he came fairly upon the girl -whose propensity for losing things he had described with so much gusto -the evening before. - -"I beg your pardon," he said, quickly--he seemed to be always begging -her pardon--"but I was looking for your coachman. I--he--I hoped he -could tell me the name--that is, of course he knows the name--I mean, I -wanted his brother's address." - -Peter was no stammerer, and it irritated him very much to be saying all -this so awkwardly, but there was something about the cool dark eyes of -this girl, as she stood looking at him, which rather disconcerted him. -She had evidently just dismounted from her horse, and now Peter observed -two things--first that she was rather oddly pale, and second, that her -side-saddle had slipped, and rested at an altogether improper angle upon -the horse's back. As he saw this he came forward. - -"What is the matter?" he asked quickly. "You haven't had a fall? You -didn't ride this way, of course?" - -"Yes, I did," she answered, lifting her head rather high, and then -suddenly drooping it again. - -"How far? When did it slip? Were you alone?" Peter examined the -side-saddle. - -"It began to slip--back--at--the boulevard," said the girl, rather -slowly. "I--I don't know just how I kept on, but I did. Lewis is n't -here. He ought to be. I can't put up Blackthorn myself." - -"Let me do it for you." Peter took the bridle from her. He soon had -the horse in the stall and had put away the saddle and bridle. - -"That was a plucky thing to do," declared Peter, coming back to the -stable door, where the girl had dropped into the coachman's chair, "to -ride home with a slipping saddle. But you ought not to have done it, -you know. It might have slipped a lot more with a jerk, and thrown you. -See here, you 're not feeling just right, are you? Shall I call -somebody?" - -"No, no!" She started up. "If mother knew the least thing went wrong -she would n't let me ride at all. If you--if you just would n't mind -staying here a little, till I feel like myself again----" - -"Why, of course I will"--and Peter stayed. - -It was only for a few minutes, and meanwhile Lewis, the coachman, had -returned, and the matter of the loose saddle-girth had been fully -discussed by all three. Then Peter took his way home. - -Jane met him at the door. "Did you find where the plasterer lives?" she -asked, eagerly. - -Peter stared at her, turned about, and gazed across the street, as if he -expected to see a plasterer following in his path, trowel and float in -hand. Then he burst into a laugh. He mumbled something which sounded -like a very peculiar name, if it was a name, and rapidly retraced his -footsteps across the street, to make his inquiry of Lewis, the coachman. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - PETER SEES A LIGHT - - -The Bells had been at home for a fortnight in Gay Street. - -The little house was in order from cellar to roof, and its occupants had -settled down to the routine of their daily living, well content with the -new abode. In a way they missed the larger house and freer environments -of the remote suburban place they had left, but the early hour at which -Mr. Bell and the boys were now able to reach home, and the later one at -which they could leave in the morning, amply compensated for the more -cramped quarters made necessary by the higher rates of rental in the -city. - -"It's not a very friendly neighborhood, though, is it, Janey?" commented -Peter one evening, as he and Jane stood on the porch, enjoying the mild -mid-April evening. "How many calls have you had? Two?" - -"Three," corrected Jane, cheerfully. "The two old ladies on the right, -the mother of six the left, and one odd person from Westlake Street. -The rest are still looking us over." - -"Nobody from Worthington Square?" Peter's tone was quizzical. - -"Absolutely nobody," Jane laughed. "But we have one acquaintance in -Worthington Square, Peter--the little Townsend girl with the sweet, pale -face. She wants to know us dreadfully, and she's such a dear, -democratic little person the smiles positively tremble on her mouth when -I meet her--which I do almost every day. So does Nancy. It 's the -oddest thing! Nan says she almost never stirs out that the Townsend -child does n't appear." - -"She wants to get acquainted. I don't blame her. They 're the dullest -lot over there. There seems to be one stirabout--the good-looking chap -who 's off on horseback every day. But the other son 's a paleface, and -the daughter--hum--well----" Peter's pause was eloquent. "I think -she's---- Hello! What's that?" - -He had looked over at the big house as he spoke of its inmates, and his -eye had been caught by an appearance which struck him as unusual. The -house was dimly lighted everywhere, but in one room, the upper one with -the semicircular window, there was an effect of brilliancy of a ruddier -color than is ordinarily produced by electric lights. As Peter and Jane -now stared at it, it seemed to grow in intensity, and there showed a -wavering and flashing of this singular light which looked suspiciously -like fire. - -"Do you suppose there can be anything wrong?" speculated Peter, -anxiously. "Of course a fire of coke or cannel in a fireplace might -give that effect, through those thin curtains, but we--haven't -seen--anything like it--before--and--By George!" as the light flared -more ruddily than ever for an instant and then grew dull again, "I -believe there _is_ trouble there! Anyhow, I 'll run over and find out! -They can't blame me for that." - -He was starting off at a run when Jane darted after him. "I 'm sure I -saw flames jump up, Pete!" she called, excitedly. "The window's open, -and the curtain blew to one side. Oh, hurry! Most of them are away; I -saw them drive off an hour ago." - -She was running at Peter's side, fleet of foot as he. Her mind had -leaped to the youngest member of the unknown household, the one who did -not drive away after nightfall to dinners and parties, like the others. -Only that day she had met Shirley and exchanged with her the few bright -words the little girl seemed to welcome so eagerly. They ran up the -steps of the great portico, with its stately columns, and hurrying -across it, came to a partly opened door. Peter rang the bell, peering -impatiently through the vestibule into the large, square, half-lighted -interior. "I 'll wait just one minute for an answer," he said with his -foot on the threshold, "and then I 'll be up that gorgeous staircase -back there." - -Jane put her head in at the door. "I smell smoke!" she breathed, and -Peter pushed past her. Delaying no longer, he ran across the hall and -up the staircase, closely followed by Jane. - -As he reached the top, a little white-clad figure ran screaming toward -him. He rushed by, but Jane, at his heels, caught the little girl up in -her arms. - -"There, there, darling," she soothed the frightened, sobbing child, "you -'re all safe! Peter will take care of the fire. Are they all away? -There, don't be frightened, dear!" - -Over Shirley's head Jane saw Peter vanish through a doorway--beyond -which she could see a mass of smoke and flame--slam down a window, and -dash out again, closing the door behind him. Then he was off down the -stairs, shouting for help as he went, and getting no response from any -quarter of the strangely deserted house. - -"Take her away!" he called back to Jane, as he ran, and Jane attempted -to obey. - -"Where are your clothes, dear?" she asked the child in her arms, but -could get no coherent answer. - -She looked about her, and carrying Shirley, who was slender and as light -of weight as a much younger child, soon discovered the little girl's -room. She caught up the pile of clothes on a chair, and attempted to -dress her charge. But Shirley only cried and clung. Jane pulled a -silken blanket from the little brass bed, and wrapping the child in it, -and rolling her clothes into a bundle, which she tucked under one arm, -carried her downstairs and into a small reception-room near the front -entrance. - -Peter, dashing through the silent house toward the rear, hoping to come -upon a man-servant somewhere, was met at last by a startled maid. - -"A room upstairs is on fire," he said. "Any men here to help me put it -out? If there are n't I must send in an alarm. Any fire-extinguishers -about?" - -The girl's wits scattered at the news, but she managed to recall the -fact that the coachman must be at the stable again by this time, and -flew to call him. Peter ran back to keep track of events. He saw that -the walls were heavy, that the fire was thus far confined to the one -room, and that if help came speedily it would not be necessary to call -out the fire department, an expedient to be avoided, he felt sure, -unless the danger to the house was greater than he thought. - -But the frightened maid forestalled him in this plan. She ran to the -telephone and sent in the alarm herself, although in the confusion of -her fright she lost some minutes in getting the message properly -reported. Meanwhile, the coachman having arrived to aid Peter, bringing -with him the apparatus kept in the stables for the purpose of -extinguishing fire, the two were soon successfully fighting the flames -without further aid. - -Shirley, downstairs, was still trembling in Jane's arms, and -incoherently crying for her brother Murray, who, she insisted, had not -gone out with the others that evening, but had been reading in the room -which was now on fire. At that moment Murray himself came limping in at -the open door. The maid met him at the threshold. - -"O Mr. Murray," she began--and Jane, in the reception-room, heard -her--"the house is on fire, and----" - -"What? Where? Where's Shirley? Who's----" - -Jane, with the child in her arms, appeared at the door of the -reception-room. "She 's here--quite safe," she said; and with an -exclamation, Murray came anxiously toward the two. Then he paused and -looked up the staircase, for through the distant closed door upstairs -could be heard the sounds of voices, shouting directions. The maid was -beginning an excited explanation when Jane interrupted her: - -"My brother is here, and he and your coachman are putting it out, I 'm -sure." - -"Has anybody sent in an alarm?" - -"I did," said the maid. "The young man told me not to, but how did he -know he could put it out? And the master 'd be blamin' me----" - -"We don't want the firemen here if we don't need them," Murray was -beginning, when the distant and familiar clang of a gong stopped the -words upon his lips. In a moment more it became evident that a -fire-engine and its train were upon them. Murray turned away, and -started hurriedly up the stairs. - -At the approaching noises, which to the delicate child had always been -peculiarly terrifying, little Shirley began to cry afresh. Jane -gathered her up with an air of determination. - -"I'm going to take her to our house across the street," she said to the -maid. "There's no need of her staying here to be so frightened." - -The girl made no remonstrance. She was too excited to do more than -bewail the absence of the other servants, and the misfortune of her -having been left alone in charge. "I 'd just stepped out of the door a -minute, miss," she explained, "to speak to a friend of mine that was -passing. 'T was a mercy I left the door open, or the young gentleman -couldn't have----. There's the gong!--There 's the fire-engine!--Oh, -my--but look at the crowd comin' after 'em!" - -"Show me a side door where I can slip out, please," requested Jane -hurriedly, and the maid obeyed. - -As the firemen ran in at the front door, Jane, with Shirley in her arms, -hurried out at a low side entrance, from which a path through the -shrubbery led to a gateway in the high hedge next the street. - -As she reached her own porch, the rest of her family came rushing out, -having heard the commotion in the street. She almost ran into Nancy who -stopped abruptly to stare at Jane's burden. - -"Come back into the house with me, Nan," said Jane, quickly. "Here 's -our frightened little neighbour. The fire will soon be out, but I -thought she'd be happier over here, for the family are all away." - -In the house she put Shirley down upon the couch in the front room, and -the child, staring up, her big eyes full of tears and fright, beheld the -face of the girl she had so longed to know smiling down at her. - -"This is splendid!" said Nancy Bell. "I've wanted to know you like -everything, and now I 've got you right here in my own house. Won't you -let me help you get dressed? I 'd love to." - -Seeing that Nancy would be better for the shy little visitor than any -number of older persons, Jane left the two together, and went out to see -what was happening. - -It was very little. The fire-engine was already turning to leave, the -driver grumbling at a needless alarm. "All out!" a voice was shouting, -and the crowd was reluctantly pausing upon the edge of the lawn, -disappointed that no further excitement was to be had. Upstairs the -firemen had found the fire subdued to a mere dying smother of smoke, the -efficient chemical having made quick work of the blaze, which had not -had time to attack the walls of the room, but had been confined to its -furnishings. - -Peter, his hands and clothes grimy, made light of the affair to Murray, -who was looking in at the ruin of the room. - -"I took a few liberties with your front door," Peter said, "finding it -open and no one about. Oh, no, it hadn't much headway; I saw that when I -decided not to call out the department. It was quite a blaze, but mostly -the light stuff about. It must have caught from the curtains blowing -into that student-lamp." - -"That's my fault," Murray owned. "I hate electric lights to read by, so -I lighted that lamp here. I was reading, but the room began to feel -stuffy, and I opened the window. It looked so pleasant outside I -thought I 'd take a turn round the square. I 'm not a fast walker"--he -glanced at his lame leg--"and I was probably at the other side of the -square when you came in. Look here, you must have been mighty quick to -take in the situation, for I couldn't have been away over five minutes -when you saw the blaze." - -"My sister and I happened to be standing out on our porch--you see, we -live just round the corner in Gay Street--about opposite these windows -here----" - -"I know," Murray nodded. "I 've seen you." - -"We thought at first it was a cannel-coal fire--you know how they flash -with a red light. But when we suspected, we just ran across. I hope -your little sister wasn't too badly frightened?" - -"Her room's next to this. Poor child, she _was_ frightened. I deserve -a thrashing, you know, for my carelessness. Every one of the family is -out, and all the servants except my mother's maid. It was very kind of -your sister to take Shirley in charge. She's downstairs with her now." - -"Will your people be getting news of the fire-alarm and be frightened?" -Peter asked, putting on his coat. - -"I don't think so. Father and mother are out of town at a dinner, and -my sister's at a party in a country house. They won't be likely to -hear. I don't know where my brother is. Don't go. Must you? I--you -know I'm awfully obliged to you for this----" - -"It's nothing. Glad I happened to be on hand," and Peter would have -said good night and run down the stairs, but he saw that his host meant -to go down with him. So he descended slowly, keeping pace with the -other's halting steps, and talking with him as he went. - -"Your sister was here when I came in," said Murray, glancing into the -small reception-room. The maid, who had been watching the departure of -the crowd from the window of this room, turned to him. - -"The young lady took Miss Shirley home with her," she explained. "I was -that flustered I let her go without so much as asking you, Mr. Murray, -but----" - -"It's all right," Murray put in, hastily. "It was just the thing to do, -the child was so scared. If they 're at your house, I 'll just step over -there with you, if you don't mind." - -"Glad to have you," said Peter, wondering what Jane would say to this -second unexpected introduction. - -Murray, as he walked slowly toward the house in Gay Street, felt -distinctly glad of the chance. Since his illness he had led a lonely -life, and he longed for comrades near at hand. From behind the curtains -he had done not a little watching of the coming and going in Gay Street, -and had been strongly attracted toward each one of the household across -the way. He liked the faces of those people. He had wished that he -could make their acquaintance. - -"Walk in!" invited Peter, throwing the door hospitably open; and Murray, -his quick, curious eyes taking in everything at a glance, entered the -small front room, which was just then unoccupied. He heard voices and -laughter near at hand, but for the moment, while Peter went to summon -his mother, he had time to look about him. - -There was not very much in the room, and there was nothing of value, as -that word was used in the Townsend house, yet the visitor could not help -finding the place warmly attractive. There was a homelike look about it, -and there was an indefinable air of refinement. The furniture was old -and very nearly shabby, but it was not the cheap and tawdry furniture -one might have expected to find in such a house. The pictures on the -walls were all good copies of great pictures, or photographs set under -glass. Piles of music lay on the old-fashioned square piano, and a few -papers and magazines, all of good selection, were upon the table, in the -centre of which burned a brilliant lamp. But most of all, the character -of the household was shown by the books--as it inevitably is. - -Of these there were a surprising number. Murray felt his respect for the -Bell family rising immensely as he noted the contents of the rows of -home-made book-shelves. They were in plain, worn bindings, most of -them, quite unlike the stately rows in the great library at home; but -they were the same old friends, in common clothes, and Murray rejoiced -at the sight. - -Peter was quickly back, bringing with him the lady whom Murray -recognised as the mother of the family. She _was_ a lady--no doubt of -that. He had been sure of it before. Now, as he listened to her -voice--the test incontrovertible--he knew beyond question. - -She greeted him cordially. He was charmed with her face, with her -manner, with everything about her. Then Peter brought all the others -in, and Murray shook hands with them all. Shirley appeared, clinging to -Nancy's hands, and Shirley was so happy, and begged so hard in his ear -to stay a few minutes longer, that he willingly delayed their departure. - -Fine fellows, Peter and Ross and Rufus proved to be on acquaintance. -Not in the least overawed by the presence of the rich man's son from -Worthington Square, they talked business and football and politics and -various other things in those few minutes, in a hearty, half-boyish, -decidedly manly fashion that he thoroughly enjoyed. - -It happened that Murray said less to Jane than to any of the others, but -he noticed her not a little. He thought he had never seen a girl who -looked so spirited and sweet and gay and gentle all in one. He felt -that his sister Olive must learn to know her at once, that she might -learn what it is to be pretty without seeming aware of the fact, and how -it is possible to make a stranger feel wholly at his ease without -appearing to exercise any arts. - -"I suppose I ought to be taking my sister home," Murray said at last, -getting to his feet. "The truth is, she has wanted to know Miss Nancy -since she first saw her, and so----" - -"Murray wanted to know you, too," said Shirley, in Nancy's ear; but as -her brother paused, the words were audible to everybody. - -"To know _me_?" queried Nancy, in surprise, and everybody smiled. - -"I'm sure my mother and sister will call--soon," said Murray, trying to -feel sure of that rather doubtful proposition as he made it. - -The moment would have been an awkward one in some small houses, for it -was impossible not to remember that the Worthington Squares do not make -many calls in the Gay Streets, but young Rufus, studying Shirley with -interest, broke in, without intention, upon his mother's reply. Rufus -was quite untroubled by the social inequalities existing between -localities divided only by a stone's throw. - -"That 's a dandy tennis-court you will have there when you put it out," -he remarked. - -"It's pretty fair--and we shall have it in shape early this year," -replied Murray, smiling. There was a beauty about Murray's rare smile -which quite transformed his pale face. His eyes met Jane's as he spoke. - -"It 's too bad to grow up past the point of breaking the ice so easily, -is n't it?" she said, merrily, as he shook hands. - -"We 'll have to follow their wise example," he replied. - -"I hope that you 'll find your way over to Gay Street often in the -future," declared Peter, shaking hands. - -"I mean to, thank you, if you'll let me?" Murray looked into Mrs. -Bell's eyes, and a shade of wistfulness crept into his own, which she -saw, and recognising, was sure she understood. - -"Please come, if you care to," she said, cordially, and he felt her -warm, firm hand give his a friendly pressure, which quite completed the -capturing of his heart. - -A ringing step on the porch outside, a knock at the door--it boasted no -bell--and everybody looked up surprised, for it was nearly ten o'clock. -Ross opened the door. - -"I beg your pardon," said a gay and careless voice outside, "but I came -to look for my brother and sister. They seem to be lost, and I 'm told -they 're here." - -"Come in!" said Ross, and the owner of the voice appeared upon the -threshold. Standing there, surveying the company with his -characteristically assured expression, his handsome face taking on a -saucy smile as his eyes fell on his brother, Forrest Townsend was -carefully and formally presented by Murray to each one of the household -in turn. - -He looked a fine figure in his evening clothes, his long outer coat -falling open, his hat in his hand. His audacious young eyes fell on Jane -before he was presented to her, and his manner acquired a sort of -laughing gallantry rather effective. "It was a very lucky fire for us," -he said, gaily, as he bowed. "I only wish I had been at home." - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - FORREST PLAYS A TRICK - - -"It's no more than civil, mother, that you and Olive should go over and -call!" insisted Murray Townsend, with heat. - -"I can't see that it is necessary at all," replied Mrs. Townsend, with -offsetting coolness. "The young man has been properly thanked for his -services; indeed, I should say that between you and Forrest and Shirley -the entire family have had quite fuss enough made over them." - -"I didn't make much of the fuss," Forrest said. "I was only there five -minutes at the end of the show. Time enough to see, though, that those -people are n't off the same piece as the usual tenants of that house. -They 've seen better days, or I miss my guess." - -"Not at all. They 've never had much money, but they 're educated -people, just the same--self-educated, a mighty good sort. You 've only -to look at the books that fairly line that little room to see for -yourself. Is n't there any rule for sizing up men but by the dollars -they 've made--or women but by the clothes they wear?" - -The vehemence of Murray's speech was so unusual, and his ordinarily -quiet and indifferent expression had given place to one so eager, that -the family all turned with one accord to look at him. They were at -dinner, one late April evening, a week after the fire. The dining-room -was the one place in the house where all the family were accustomed to -meet; therefore any question of the sort which Murray had proposed was -brought up there as a matter of course. - -Mr. Townsend himself answered his son's pointed observation, -forestalling the rejoinder about to fall from his wife's lips: - -"It's the way of the world, Murray, and an unjust one in many cases. -Still, one can't help feeling that a man who has lived to the age of -Joseph Bell without reaching a position higher than the one he holds -with the Armstrong Company can't be possessed of a very unusual -endowment of brains." - -"I should say that depends on whether making money has been his -ambition, or something else." - -"He certainly hasn't achieved the something else," was Olive's comment. -"Not even a decent home." - -"Decent!" Murray turned on her. "It's a home worthy the name--I can -tell you that! And if you refuse to call on these people that live in -it, after Peter Bell saved ours over our heads, I say you 're acting -like snobs!" - -"Murray!" His mother spoke very sharply. Forrest laughed. He enjoyed -the scene, being inclined, by his remembrance of Jane, to take his -brother's side. Mr. Townsend came to the rescue. - -"You are rather rough in your language, Murray, but I think you are -right in your notions about the call. It's only a courtesy, surely, -Eloise, to go over and make one call. You don't need to continue the -acquaintance unless you wish, but I should be glad myself if you would -go. It is several days now since----" - -"It's a week," said Murray. - -"He knows--no doubt of that!" laughed Forrest. "He's cultivated the -acquaintance, anyhow. I saw him walking up the street yesterday with -the pretty girl of the family." - -"You walked up with her yourself the day before!" cried Shirley. - -Forrest threw back his head and laughed. "You 're a little spy. Well, I -don't mind owning that I did. She's a trim-looking girl on the street, -too, if she does n't wear the furbelows Olive does. She----" - -"We may as well go over and call, mother," said Olive, with emphasis. -"If both the boys are running after the family, we ought to find out -what they are." - -"You won't be so condescending as you think," Murray said to her, as he -left the room at her side. "Mrs. Bell is n't the sort to be impressed -with the honour you do her." - -Mrs. Townsend and Olive, realising that the wishes of the three male -members of the family were not to be lightly disregarded, made the call -without further delay. Dressed as carefully as if they had been calling -in Worthington Square, they knocked upon the door of the little house in -Gay Street, and were admitted by Nancy. - -It chanced that this was a Saturday afternoon. And Saturday was a -half-holiday for nearly all workers in the city. Thus it came about -that in the middle of the stiff little call--stiff in spite of Mrs. Bell -and Jane, who had received their visitors with all simplicity and -naturalness--Peter arrived at home. Being burdened with small parcels, -he hurried round to the kitchen door, and depositing his parcels on the -table there, started in search of his sisters. - -"Jane--Nan--where are you?" he shouted through the little house, and -before Nancy, springing down the stairs, could stop him, he had bolted -into the front room. - -Olive Townsend, turning quickly, recognised the big, fresh-coloured -youth, with the good-humoured, clever-looking face, who had several -times been of assistance to her. Peter was presented to the visitors by -his mother, who seemed quite undisturbed by the interruption. Jane only -laughed, and Peter himself recovered his balance with but a momentary -show of confusion. - -"It was important business, you see," he said, smiling, and explaining -to Jane. "I brought home the flower-seeds you wanted, and I had an idea -they must get into the ground within the next fifteen minutes, or it -would be too late." - -"I don't wonder he thought so," Jane said to Olive, glancing from her -brother to her guest. "I impressed upon him this morning the fact that -if the sweet peas were n't planted to-day we should n't have any growing -before August. Don't go, Peter. Perhaps Miss Townsend can tell us what -else we ought to have in our garden." - -Peter obediently drew up a chair and sat down. - -Olive, responding that she knew nothing whatever about gardens, because -the gardener always attended to whatever flower-beds there were about -the grounds, was conscious of a keen and steady scrutiny from Peter's -cool gray eyes, quite as if he were not in the least abashed by her -distinguished presence. - -She was, moreover, forced to acknowledge, as the moments went by, that -Peter could talk, and talk well. He came to the assistance of Jane, who -had begun to feel the difficulties of entertaining the visitor, and told -an amusing incident of the morning's experience. Before she knew it, -Olive was laughing, for Peter's clever mimicry was quite irresistible. - -As she rose to go Olive made an immense condescension: "I believe it -must have been you, Mr. Bell," she said, "who picked up my handkerchief -for me one day." - -Peter laid his hand on his heart with a droll gesture and a formal -bow--an interesting combination.--"I think I had the honour," he -admitted, with a twinkle. - -And now something unforeseen happened. Exactly as the visitors rose to -go, the April skies, which five minutes before had been smiling, -suddenly opened, and poured out one of those astonishing spring -downfalls which arrest street traffic on the instant. - -Mrs. Townsend and Olive, with the door opening to let them out, stood -still upon the threshold in dismay, glancing down at their delicate -spring attire. - -"You can't go in this," said Mrs. Bell, cordially. "It will be over -soon. Please come back and sit down." - -The fates must surely have intended from the first to mix up things -between these two families of Townsend and Bell. With that end in view -nothing could have been more opportune than this shower, for it lasted a -good half-hour without showing signs of slackening, and it contributed -also lightning and thunder, which made Olive shrink and shudder. Also -Ross, McAndrew and young Rufus Bell, coming home in the late afternoon, -and being caught at the corner in the downpour, dashed for the little -front porch for shelter, and then into the living-room. - -Ross, making apologies on account of his moist condition, and getting -through the room and out with Rufus as fast as possible, was yet able to -take in the surprising fact that Peter was sitting in the corner with -the girl from the aristocratic square, chatting cheerfully with her, and -eliciting not altogether unwilling smiles in response. - -Out in the kitchen, with the door closed, Ross and Rufus interviewed -Nancy. - -"How on earth did old Peter get into it like this?" Ross inquired, as he -hung his coat to dry by the stove. "I could hardly believe my eyes to -see him confabulating with Miss Worthington Square. She seems quite -human, does n't she--when you get her indoors?" - -"I don't know," said Nancy. "I only let them in. She looks awfully -pretty, don't you think? And maybe she's nice when you get to know her." - -"If you ever do," qualified Ross. "Pretty? Well, all I saw was a -gorgeous hat and a pair of big eyes; I felt as if somebody was looking -at me with a spy-glass. She is n't in it with our Janey, if you're -talking about prettiness." - -"No, of course not!" cried loyal Nancy. - -By the time the storm had ceased, a good deal of the stiffness in the -little front room had melted away. It may be possible for some people -to be formal and frigid for the space of a ten-minute call, but to keep -it up for full three-quarters of an hour longer, while rain pours, and -lightning flashes, and unconventional young persons dash in and out, and -a youth like Peter tells jolly stories--that becomes much more -difficult. Mrs. Townsend maintained a peculiar dignity to the end, but -Olive--well, in spite of her prejudices, Olive was young, and liked -young associates, and as she looked and listened, it became more and -more difficult for her to refuse to recognise that the people in this -little house were not ordinary, not commonplace, not uneducated, as she -had fancied them, but bright, and gay, and interesting. - -When she gave Jane her hand, as she took her leave--the April storm -having at last given place again to brilliant April sunshine--she found -herself wishing she might know this prepossessing maid. There was a -straightforward sweetness in the glance of Jane's rich hazel eyes, a -captivating charm in her free smile, which the other girl had never -encountered in quite so beguiling a form. Olive Townsend, of all the -girls whom Jane had ever met least likely to succumb to the fascinations -of another girl not in her own "set," fell, nevertheless, considerably -under Jane's influence on that very first encounter. In taking leave she -said to Jane that which she had not dreamed of saying, commonplace an -expression of friendliness as it was: "I shall hope to see you often, -since we live so near." - -"Gone--gone--all gone?" queried Ross, putting in his head cautiously at -the living-room door, as the visitors turned the corner. - -"All gone," replied Peter. "Gone forever--silks and velvets and new -spring hats." - -"Ribbons and laces, and sweet, pretty faces," chanted Ross, reminded of -the old child-rhyme. "'Sugar and spice, and everything nice.' Not much -sugar about Miss Worthington Square, eh, Pete?" - -"Oh, I don't know," mused Peter, gazing absently out of the window -toward the square, where Olive's spring finery was just fluttering out -of sight. "She 's not so bad at close range. I should n't wonder if an -earthquake shock might stir her up into quite an interesting girl. -Lacking that, some lesser convulsion of nature might possibly----" - -"The Bell family certainly did their best to shock her. If daddy and -Nan could have just burst in from somewhere, I think the effect would -have been complete," declared Jane, merrily. - -The subject of these comments, upon reaching home, found herself called -upon for an opinion of the Bells. - -Forrest Townsend, encountering his sister upon the stairs, followed her -to her room. - -"Own up that they 're not as odd as you thought," he demanded. - -"They 're very well--of their sort," was Olive's reply, observing -herself in her mirror, and congratulating herself on the fact that the -new spring hat was undoubtedly becoming. - -"See here, why not send Jane and Peter an invitation to your party?" - -"'_Jane and Peter!_' You seem to be pretty intimate with them already." - -"I don't call them that to their faces. But you 've seen for yourselves -they 're all right. Ask them over; it won't hurt you." - -"Why, Forrest Townsend--people who don't know a soul in our set! What -an idea!" - -"A mighty good idea. Nobody 'll know they live in Gay Street--and you -won't be ashamed of them either." - -"I shall not do anything of the sort." Olive took off the hat and laid -it in its box. "I don't know what in the world has got into you and -Murray; you 're both perfectly mad over the Bells. If you 're so -charmed with that girl you can go and call on her, I suppose." - -She recalled with some surprise her own liking for Jane, wondering, now -that her brother showed his prepossessions so strongly, how she could -have fancied her. It seemed sometimes to be a matter of principle with -Olive never to like the people whom Forrest or Murray liked. - -"See here," said Forrest, frowning, "I think it's pretty ill-natured of -you not to invite one or two persons I ask you to, whether you happen to -want them or not. This party may be your birthday affair, but there 's -no reason why somebody else should n't have a hand in the inviting. -Let's see your list, will you?" - -Olive unwillingly handed him a sheet of paper, upon which the names of -her prospective guests were written. He scanned it sharply. - -"Same old crowd," he observed, his handsome brows knit into a scowl. "I -should think you 'd want a little fresh blood, to liven things up." - -"For you to sit in a corner with, you mean." - -"Will you do it to please me?" - -"No!" Olive snatched the list out of his hand and returned it to a box, -which she laid in a drawer of her desk. - -Forrest stood looking at her for a moment, then, without a further word, -shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the room. - -Two hours later he came quietly back. Olive had gone out, as he knew. -He crossed the room to the desk, searched and found the box into which -he had seen the list put, and discovered, as he had expected, the -invitations to the birthday party folded and partially addressed. He -knew that they were to go out upon the morrow, and that Olive doubtless -would finish the task of addressing them that evening. He had heard her -bewailing the fact that this labour consumed so much time, but he had -not cared to offer to assist her. - -Forrest looked the invitations over, smiling to himself, took out two -unaddressed envelopes and put them into his pocket, closed the door and -strolled away. In his own room he took them out again, and wrote upon -them in his best hand, "Peter Bell, Esq.," and "Miss Jane Bell," adding -the street and number, and stamping and sealing them, still with the -laugh in the corners of his mischievous mouth. - -The next day, when Olive's invitations went into the letter-box on the -corner, they were shortly followed by two of which the giver of the -party had no knowledge. - -It happened that the early morning mail in Gay Street always arrived -just before the departure of the family workers for their place of -business. So when Nancy, after answering the postman's ring, came back -to the table with the mail, both Peter and Jane, just finishing -breakfast, were on hand to receive it. - -"Whose handwriting can this be, I wonder?" speculated Jane, intently -studying the dashing address. - -Peter glanced over her shoulder. "Same as mine," he observed, ripping -his envelope open. "Looks like a wedding invitation; but since none of -our friends, Janey, are so much as thinking of getting married-- -Hello, what's this?" - -"Oh, why--" Jane was stammering, eagerly. "O Petey--how lovely--why-- -There, I knew she was n't as cold and proud as you thought her!" - -"Who--what?" demanded Nancy, with excitement. - -"Miss Olive Townsend," explained Jane, flushing with pleasure. - -"What! Miss Worthington Square invited you two every-day folks to her -party?" Ross inquired, getting up from the table and reaching for his -hat. "Pete, you 'll lose your car if you stand mooning over that -thing." - -"How did you know she was to have a party?" - -"Little Miss Shirley confided it to me." - -"Me, too!" cried Nancy, proudly. "But she did n't tell me her sister -would ask you." - -"Miss Olive probably didn't intend to," hazarded Peter, folding up his -note and putting it carefully in his pocket, "until she came to call and -saw our charms. She came--she saw--we conquered--eh, Janey?--with our -sweet smiles and our stories. How about it, sister? Do we go?" - -"If," began Jane slowly, the smile fading a little on her bright face, -"if----" - -"If we've anything to wear!" supplied Ross, and began to whistle gaily. -"_Oh, ye shall walk in silk attire_," breaking off to glance at the -clock and start hastily for the door, with Peter and Rufus after him. -Jane turned to Mrs. Bell, who, sitting quietly in her place at the head -of the table, was regarding her young daughter as if she understood all -the doubts which had instantly risen in the girl's mind. - -"I think we can manage it, dear," she said, "if the party dress does n't -have to match the invitation." - -Jane's face grew flushed again. "I can wear anything, mother, if I have -some fresh ribbons. But Peter----" - -"Yes--Peter--" agreed Mrs. Bell. She rose and came round to Jane. -"Peter shall have a new cravat," said she, and smiled into Jane's eyes. - -Jane smiled back. Each knew that the other was thinking of Peter's best -black suit--in which he went to church on Sundays. Each knew that the -Townsend sons would wear evening clothes. - -"Yes, with a new cravat Petey will be all right," said Jane. "Dear boy, -he was pleased, was n't he? And it _is_ nice of her to ask us!" - - - - - CHAPTER V - - WITHOUT GLOVES - - -"O Jane, the big porch is all shut in with white stuff, and there's a -striped awning where the carriages stop, just as if it was a great -grown-up party or a wedding. And I saw them carrying in loads of palms -and things. Oh, are n't you excited to be going?" - -This was Nancy Bell, flying into the front room upstairs, where Mrs. -Bell and Jane were putting the finishing touches to Jane's frock, to be -worn that evening. - -"Awfully excited, darling," admitted Jane, smiling at the eager little -sister. - -"Oh, how pretty that is!" Nancy clasped her hands in ecstasy over the -dainty ruffled skirt, with its tiny yellow flowers scattered over a -white ground. Then she caught up the long sash belt of primrose-yellow -ribbon, its graceful rosettes and flowing ends promising an effective -finish to the simple toilet. "You 'll be the prettiest girl at the -party!" she declared, joyously. - -Mrs. Bell and Jane laughed across at each other. "In a ten-cent -dimity," their eyes said, with congratulations, "reduced from eighteen!" - -"My ribbon is what rejoices my soul," said Jane, touching the soft silk. -"That was a bargain we just happened on--the price cut in two because of -a few soiled places. We simply did n't use those at all, and there were -enough long lengths to make the streamers. It's such a beautiful -quality it makes the whole dress look finer than it is." - -"How can you ever wait till evening?" sighed Nancy. "O Jane, Shirley -wants me to hide in the shrubbery over there by the hedge, and she's -going to slip out with some ice-cream and cake for me!" - -Mrs. Bell's eyes and Jane's met again with a smile. Jane's eyebrows -went up in interrogation. Mrs. Bell nodded. "I think Nancy may have -that much of the party," she said. - -Evening came at last, although Nancy had moments of feeling sure that it -never would. Jane, her curly auburn locks tied up in charming fashion, -with various rebellious tendrils waving about her face, slipped into the -pretty frock, and Mrs. Bell arranged the primrose girdle, which set off -the whole effect. Peter, in his best black suit and wearing the new -cravat, looked at his sister approvingly. - -"My, but I 'm proud of my girl!" he said. - -"Not prouder than I am of my big brother," responded Jane. - -The family saw them off, rejoicing in their youthful good looks, and -sure they would hold their own in appearance with anybody in Worthington -Square. Peter and Jane, not feeling quite so confident, yet -experiencing a pleasant stir of anticipation, walked slowly round the -corner. - -Nearly all the guests were arriving in carriages, and the brother and -sister, as they crossed the porch, encountered a number of these, -entering from the _porte-cochere_. As Jane's eyes fell upon the gaily -dressed young people, the first thing she observed about them gave her -an unpleasant shock. They all, youths and girls, were wearing gloves. -Jane glanced from her own round white arms, bare from the elbows, to -Peter's uncovered hands. - -"Peter, we never once thought of gloves," she murmured in his ear, as -they lingered to let the party from the carriages go in at the door -ahead of them. - -Peter stared from her to the other guests. Then his gay twinkle replaced -the look of dismay. "Gloves--on youngsters like us! Don't you care a -bit," he whispered back in her ear. - -It was a little difficult not to care, especially for Jane, as in the -dressing-room upstairs she met many curious glances. The maid in charge -even offered to help her put on her gloves, and Jane could not help -feeling a bit unhappy as she replied that she was not wearing gloves. - -But the sight of Peter, smiling serenely at her from the head of the -staircase, where he awaited her, strengthened her resolution not to -mind. A glance at the mirror had assured her that the inexpensive little -dimity with its primrose ribbons was irreproachable in its dainty -distinction of style--thanks to Mrs. Bell's clever fingers--and this -knowledge was very comforting. Her face was as bright as ever when she -joined Peter, whose hearty whisper: "You 're all right!" put her quite -on her feet again. - -Downstairs, where Olive Townsend stood receiving with her mother, with -Forrest and Murray close at hand, a brief but interesting colloquy took -place just before Jane and Peter came into the reception room. Forrest -had been keeping sharp watch on the hall entrance, and the moment that -he saw the two Bells arrive and make their way toward the staircase, he -watched for a chance to get a word in the ears of his family. A lull in -the arrivals gave him his opportunity. - -"Olive," he said coolly to his sister in an undertone, "I took the -liberty of sending Jane and Peter Bell an invitation--and they 're here. -I want you to brace up and give them just as nice a welcome as you 're -giving the rest. Hold on! If you 're angry at anybody, it's at me, and -you 've no right to take it out of them for that. One thing I can tell -you; if you are frosty to them you 'll settle with me afterward." - -He had his sister in a corner--so to speak. Olive cared very much for -appearances. There were many eyes upon her; she could make no angry -response or show chagrin in any way without attracting notice and -comment. All she could do--which she promptly did--was to whisper back, -with lips which smiled for the sake of those who looked at her: - -"You wretch, I 'll pay you off--never fear!" - -"Do; I don't mind," and Forrest approached his mother. He was her -favourite son, and she was a thorough woman of the world. He had -reckoned on her making the best of the situation; and when he had told -her, with a gay glance and a furtive squeeze of her hand, he received no -more severe threat of punishment than he had expected in her light: "You -naughty boy! You 'll have to take care of them; nobody else knows them, -or will care to." - -"I'll see to them," was her son's careless reply, and he crossed over to -Murray, who was indifferently playing his part of young host. To him, as -Jane and Peter appeared at the doorway, Forrest made a hasty -explanation. - -Murray's face instantly brightened, and he answered promptly: "It was a -risky thing to do, but I 'm glad they 're here. Between us we 'll make -sure they have a good time." - -There was nothing in the greeting of Mrs. Townsend or of Olive to give -Peter and Jane a hint of their position. The Bells had expected only a -formal reception on an occasion like this, and when they received it, -felt no special lack. And whatever was wanting in the greeting of the -hostesses was made up by the masculine half of the receiving party. - -"This is jolly," said Forrest, giving each a hearty grasp of the hand. -"'I 'm immensely glad you could come," and as others pressed toward him, -he passed them on to Murray. - -"Do you know," said Murray, "having you two come to-night makes up to me -for the whole thing. I detest parties, as a rule, never go to them, and -would n't come downstairs at our own affairs if I could get out of it. -But I 'm glad I could n't--this time--. See here, you don't know many -of these people, do you?" - -"Nobody at all." - -"Of course not--having only just moved into the neighbourhood. I can't -do much myself except sit about and look on, and I 'm going to be so -bold as to beg your company, Miss Bell, for so much of the evening as -you 'll give me. There are a lot of pleasant nooks about the rooms and -halls, and I 'd like to try them all with you. That's a selfish plan, -is n't it?" and he smiled at her. - -"It's lovely of you, of course, and you know it," she answered. - -"It's a risk for me, lest I lose you, but I 'll present a few of these -chaps to you, first, so if you care to dance----" - -"I don't--truly." - -"I 'm glad. But I 'll do it, for the sake of my conscience," and Murray -began the task on the spot. - -Half a dozen youths accordingly bowed ceremoniously to Jane, gazed with -interest at her charming face, said something or other in the way of an -attempt at conversation, and got away again. Not one asked Jane to -dance. - -"She needs Olive's guardianship, not mine," thought Murray, resentfully. -"If Olive backed her up, the rest would accept her in a jiffy. But -Olive won't do it--I know that well enough,--so I 'll do my best in my -way, and thank my stars for the chance. There is n't a girl in the -house to match her, that's sure." - -The moment that his duties in the reception-room were over Murray -convoyed Jane away to one of the attractive retreats he had mentioned, a -beflowered nook on the staircase landing, from which they could view the -hall below, and see the greater part of the long drawing-room, where the -dancing had begun. Strains of gay music from the orchestra floated -pleasantly up to them. - -"Now this is something like!" said Murray, sinking back upon the soft -divan behind the palms. He pulled off his gloves as he spoke, rolled -them into a ball and crammed them into his pocket. He did not put them -on again that evening--a bit of kindliness which two guests understood -and appreciated. - -"If I 'm not monopolising the host when he ought to be looking after his -other guests," replied Jane, as her eyes followed the distant dancers. - -"If there is any monopoly, I 'm the guilty one--and enjoying my guilt. -Honestly, Miss Bell, it's a fine chance for me to get acquainted with my -neighbour, if she 'll let me. And as for my being missed--" A shake of -the head told Jane more than its owner meant of his loneliness, at which -she had hitherto only guessed. - -Meanwhile, Peter had also fallen into friendly hands, if youthful ones. -Shirley, allowed to play a modest part in the affairs of the evening, -but finding nobody willing to give her more than a smile and nod, fell -upon Peter as a possible ally. He had been standing at one side of the -crush, in the doorway of the drawing-room, looking on with interested -eyes, but feeling a trifle deserted, nevertheless, when he felt a warm -little hand slide into his own. Looking down, surprised, he met -Shirley's friendly smile. - -"You don't know many people, do you?" asked that frank young person. - -"I don't know anybody," returned Peter. "No, I ought not to say that, -for your brother Forrest presented me to a number of girls. But I don't -know how to dance, and they soon left me for livelier company." - -"'Nobody asks me to dance, either," said Shirley, "because Olive would -n't invite any boys of my age, and the big ones want the big girls." - -"I don't," Peter assured her. "I want one about thirteen years old, -dressed in a jolly white lacy frock, with pink ribbons and pink -slippers. I feel more at home with a girl like that than with any of -those I was introduced to. You see, their hair was so--done up!" - -"Done up! Was n't your sister's hair done up?" queried Shirley. "Oh -no, I remember! Those lovely thick curls of hers were tied in a bunch -at her neck--such a lovely way; none of the others do theirs like that. -She 's awfully pretty, is n't she? Prettier than Olive, I think." - -"I admire my sister very much," agreed Peter, "but it would be hard for -anybody to be prettier than your sister." - -His eyes turned to Olive as he spoke. She stood near by, exchanging gay -talk with a tall youth in the interval between dances. More beautifully -dressed than any young girl he had ever seen, her dark face lighted into -brilliancy by excitement, the rare colour in her cheeks set off by the -big bunch of red roses she carried, she was a picturesque figure indeed. - -"Yes, Olive does look pretty," admitted Olive's little sister. "Excuse -me a minute, please," she added, and slipped over to Olive's side. If -Peter could have heard the brief whispered conversation exchanged, he -would hardly have dared to stand watching it, as he did. - -"Olive," begged Shirley, when with difficulty she had secured her -sister's reluctant attention, "if I take care of Peter Bell for a while, -won't you be nice to him? He does n't dance, and he does n't know -anybody----" - -"It's enough that he 's here!" retorted Olive, with a frown. "I didn't -ask him or his sister, so I----" - -"You did n't ask him?" - -"No, no--run along! - -"But who----" - -"Forrest--without saying a word to me." - -"Oh!" Shirley gasped, and was silent for a minute. Then she pulled at -Olive's arm again. - -"Olive, but they 're our guests just the same, and----" - -"Shirley, don't bother me now!" - -"Listen, Olive, just a minute. Peter says nobody could be prettier than -you." - -It was a shot which told. Olive's grudging attention was arrested. She -glanced over her sister's head, in the direction of Peter. Her eyes met -his, and she turned away again, but not before the momentary vision of -the strong, intent face had impressed itself upon her as rather better -worth consideration than many of the others. - -The thought of such a compliment as Shirley had reported coming from -those firm-set lips of Peter Bell gave the recipient rather a novel -sensation. - -Olive had been out of patience with Peter from the moment that she -caught sight of his unconventional attire, but she felt all at once more -tolerant of his presence. "He did n't tell you to tell me that, I -suppose?" she whispered to Shirley. - -"Oh, no, I only----" - -"Go back, and tell him to save some time for me after this dance. I 'll -keep the next one for him." - -"But, Olive, you know he does n't dance----" - -"I'll sit it out with him, since he doesn't know enough to come and ask -me for himself." - -Half an hour later Jane, passing through the hall with Murray, on the -way to the library, where he was to show her certain books of which they -had been talking, caught sight of her brother just mounting the -staircase to the retreat on the landing. To her surprise and -relief--for she had anxiously looked for him from time to time, and had -seen him with nobody but little Shirley--she noted that he was now in -the company of his girlish hostess, and that that young person was -turning upon him a gracious face. - -To Jane the remainder of the evening passed in full pleasure. She spent -an interesting hour in the library with Murray, who made himself a -delightful companion, expanding in the sympathetic atmosphere of her -good comradeship into a more genial warmth and sincerity of manner than -she had imagined him capable of showing. Then Forrest came in search of -her, and bore her away to join a company of young people who were going -to supper together. - -Under Forrest's wing she found her position secure, for he was a -much-admired youth, and whatsoever girl he chose to favour must--as he -had known--be treated with friendliness by all his companions. Jane's -own charms came to her aid also, and brought several unattached young -gentlemen to her side, so that before the evening was over she had made -what Forrest inwardly congratulated himself upon as "a respectable -success." - -Upon the landing Peter established Olive and himself on the divan among -the palms. He studied his companion's face a moment, then said -abruptly, "I want to tell you, Miss Townsend, that I 'm more than sorry -to be here by an accident." - -She looked up at him, startled, but met only a quiet smile. "How did -you--I didn't mean you----" - -"I know you did n't--and you were very kind not to show how you must -have felt. Perhaps it would be in better taste for me not to mention it -at all. But I wanted you to know that I appreciated your courtesy in -accepting the situation." - -"But how----" - -"I found out--from a little slip of Miss Shirley's. I wanted to go -home, of course, but--I could n't make up my mind to spoil my sister's -evening, and besides--I thought your brother's invitation made it right -for us to be here." - -Olive's dark face was colouring warmly. She looked down at her roses, -wondering what to say. Somehow she found herself unwilling to let Peter -Bell think she did n't want him at her party, for it was becoming clear -to her that she did. - -"I'm so sorry," she murmured. "But I'm very glad you did n't go home. -If I had known you longer I 'm sure I should have invited----" - -"Don't bother to explain," urged Peter's low voice. "'I did n't tell -you to make you uncomfortable. Perhaps you won't mind my saying that -looking on at this sort of thing is very interesting to me. I 've never -seen it before." - -"How do you like it?" asked Olive, glancing up at him curiously. - -Peter laughed, looking off for a moment toward the drawing-room. "I 'm -an outdoor sort of chap, I think," he said. "Yet it's very pretty, all -that down there, and I like to look at it. Miss Townsend, do you ride -horseback much?" - -"Sometimes--not often. I don't care for it." - -"Neither should I, down the boulevard or in the park, but out on a -country road. I 'm a country boy, and I like a good gallop down the old -Northboro Road--miles of it as smooth as a floor. As for -cross-country--ah, there's sport!" - -"I 've never seen you ride." - -Peter's face changed. "No, I don't ride now," he said. - -"But you have Saturday afternoons free?" - -"Oh, yes." - -"There are three saddle-horses in the stable," said Olive, making a -sudden resolve, "and only one of them gets much use. Would you--care to -take me for a gallop down the Northboro Road some day?" - -That she should make such a proposition as this would have seemed to -Olive Townsend but an hour before preposterous. But now, looking up at -the sturdy figure before her, noting the wistful smile with which Peter -had spoken of past experiences, it had come to her all at once that a -new pleasure might be hers. She saw plainly that she should not be -ashamed of Peter as an escort anywhere. - -Peter stared at his hostess for a moment as if he could hardly believe -that he had heard aright. "Do you really mean that, Miss Townsend?" he -asked. - -"Indeed I do. I 'm not in the habit of saying things I don't mean." - -"Then, thank you, I should like it immensely," he said, with a smile and -bow, more attractive, Olive admitted to herself, than any she had -received that evening. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - WEEDS AND FLOWERS - - -"Good morning, Miss Jane Bell! May I come in?" - -Jane lifted her head quickly from over the phlox-bed she was weeding in -the little garden back of the house, to see Forrest Townsend looking -over the wooden gate which shut away the garden from the surrounding -neighborhood. - -"Good morning! Yes, indeed, come in," she responded blithely, waving a -discarded white ruffled sunbonnet at her guest. He vaulted over the low -barrier and came swinging down the narrow path to the end of the -enclosure, where the phlox-bed lay. Here he stood still, regarding with -favour the girl in the blue dress, whose bronze-tinted hair glinted in -the early June sunlight. - -"Always busy at something, are n't you?" he said, tipping over a -bushel-basket half-filled with weeds, and seating himself upon it. -"Yes, I know I 've spilled out the weeds, but I 'll pick 'em up again -when I 'm through. I came over to have a serious talk with you, and I -'ve got to be down here near you, where I can look you in the eye. The -grass is too damp yet to sit on in white trousers." - -Jane laughed. "It can't be a very serious matter that's troubling you, -or you would n't think of your clothes." - -"It is serious, though. I 'm full of it, and can't stop to talk about -the weather, so here goes.--I 've quarrelled with my father." - -Jane, who had thus far not ceased her weeding, stopped work and sat -still to look at her neighbour. He met her gaze defiantly. - -"Yes, I know. You think this is another case of schoolboy heroics, like -the last fuss I told you I had with him--" - -"I wish you would n't tell me." - -"I 've got to tell somebody. Come, Jane--you 've grown to seem like the -best friend I have--don't turn the cold shoulder on me just when I need -you. You know what my mother and sister are like----" - -With a gesture of disapproval Jane turned away to her work. - -Forrest watched her for a moment in silence; then he began again: - -"All right, I won't complain if you 'll just let me tell you about this -last scrape. There 's nobody else I can talk to--you know enough about -us to know that." - -"There ought to be. Your brother----" - -"Oh, Murray! With all respect to him--since you insist on respect--he -'s not off the same piece of cloth with me, and can't understand me any -more than I can him. His blood is n't good red blood at all; it's -white, I think, and I----" - -Jane rose up from her knees and stood above her visitor, determination -on her frank face. - -"Forrest Townsend," said she, "if you can talk to me without running -down your family, I 'll listen, but not otherwise. I don't think you -ought to tell me your affairs at all, but if you 're sure I can be of -use I 'll hear them, on that one condition." - -Forrest studied her a moment without replying, while her clear hazel -eyes returned his gaze. Then he laughed rather awkwardly. - -"You 're the soul of honour, are n't you?" he said. "And that's just why -I need your advice. I don't want to do anything dishonourable, but I 'm -in a corner, and don't see any way out except a jump over the wall. Let -me tell you--please!" - -Jane dropped upon her knees again and gave her attention to her work. -Taking this as permission, Forrest began, picking up a long, pink-headed -weed and pulling it through his fingers as he talked. - -"I 've known all the while father wanted me in the house with him, and -wanted me to go to college with that end in view. We 've had a few -brushes on the subject from time to time, and I 've told him over and -over I never meant to go to college, or to go into the business, either, -but he 's thought it boy talk, I suppose. Anyhow, it turns out he's -never taken me seriously when I 've told him I meant to live my own life -in my own way. He had me tutored all last winter, to get me ready for -my entrance examinations, and he expects me to go down and take them -next week. That 's where I balked. He tackled me last night, and I had -it out with him. The result was"--Forrest tried to keep up the -nonchalant manner he had assumed when he began this explanation, but his -voice showed his strong feeling as he ended the sentence--"the result -was--he gave it to me hot and heavy, and I--talked back at him. In -short, I----" - -Jane, her pretty lips set close together, her troubled eyes on the -ground, listened anxiously for the words. - -"You don't mean----" she began, slowly. - -Forrest nodded, and she caught the gesture. It brought her head round -and her eyes to search his. "You didn't--say you wouldn't do what he -wants?" - -"I did--and meant it." - -Jane drew a long breath. She forgot her weeding and sat back upon the -walk, pulling off her gloves. Forrest waited silently for her first -comment. - -"Imagine my brother Peter doing that," she murmured. - -"I can't imagine it--though Peter's no soft-head. But your father's -human, Jane. Mine--isn't." - -"Oh, he is--he is! Don't say that! He may seem stern and hard, but -that 's only on the surface, I 'm sure." - -"Much you know about it!" muttered Forrest. "But, anyhow, hard or not, I -'m not going to be put into a business life I hate." - -"What would you like to do?" - -"Go into the army." - -Jane stared at him, astonished. This idle youth live that sort of life? -Her lips curved slowly into a smile, at which Forrest promptly took -umbrage. - -"See here," he said, sitting up straight, "you 're not to judge me, you -know, from what you 've seen of me in the two months you 've lived in -Gay Street. I 've been on vacation, I admit, ever since my tutor left -in March. Besides, it 's not enlisting as a private I 'm thinking -of--no, no! I want to enter the army by the way of West Point, and get -my lieutenant's commission at graduation. That 's a very different -thing." - -"Yes, that's true. It means, I believe, four years of the severest -training in the world. I know a boy who went--he could n't stand it." - -Forrest flushed hotly under his fair skin. "And you think I could n't. -That settles it. I 'll go, if only to prove you 're mistaken." - -The girl looked up quickly, startled by his tone. "Ah, please," she -began, "don't talk that way. Tell me--will your brother go into the -business?" - -"Not much! His health settles that for him. Besides, he 's too bookish, -and father 'll let him do what he pleases, anyway--he does n't mind -having one son of that stripe. But the other son--he must go into the -mill, whether he wants to or not!" - -"Could you get to West Point without your father's permission? Don't -you have to be sent by somebody--your Congressman, is n't it?" - -"Oh, there 's a lot of red tape, and father could block the whole game, -I suppose. If he does--well, I 'd enlist and get into the ranks and -work my way up, rather than go into that dingy old office and tie myself -to a desk and a telephone." - -Forrest got upon his feet as he spoke, brushed a clinging weed leaf or -two from his clothes, and stood looking gloomily down at Jane, who had -risen also. "It 's evident I get no sympathy from you," he said. "I -thought you were a girl who could understand a fellow's ambitions--not -wet-blanket them." - -Jane looked up at him, smiling, although her eyes were still troubled. -"I can, I think," she said. "Yet--somehow--I'm imagining the -disappointment it must be to a father who has built up a great business -like Townsend & Company's to have his son take no interest in it. I -can't help thinking--" - -"What?"--as Jane paused abruptly. - -"Never mind." - -"But I want to know what you can't help thinking." - -"Well, I 'm wondering if it would be any harder for you to go into your -father's office than it is for Peter to work with my father in the -note-paper factory. Do you know what Peter wants to be?" - -"No. I know he has a good position for his age, with the Armstrongs." - -"Yes, but Peter wants--has wanted for six years--to be a chemist--an -expert, you know. Oh, I 'm not sure I ought to tell you--please never -speak of it. Even father does n't know it's any more than a boy's -fancy. Peter could n't afford the years of training, of course--and -father can't spare him. There are"--as Forrest looked surprised--"more -people dependent on father and the boys than you know of--and I must n't -tell you. All I want you to know is that"--Jane smiled -wistfully--"there are other people who can't have their own way--and who -are making the best of it, and pretty bravely, too." - -Mrs. Bell came to the door of the house, and with a pleasant nod and -smile to Forrest, told Jane that a certain bowl of bread-dough had -reached a critical condition of lightness. The girl picked up her -basket, and Forrest bent to toss into it the weeds he had thrown out. - -"Please don't feel I 'm an unsympathetic listener," begged Jane, as her -visitor took his leave. - -"I won't. I know you mean it all right. I just think you don't -understand all the facts in the case. Much obliged to you for hearing -me out. If I turn up missing some day, you 'll know you did your part, -and gave me the proper grandmotherly advice." And Forrest swung away -through the gate with a reckless air, which Jane thought rather -melodramatic, and quite in keeping with a certain staginess sometimes -apparent in the youth's bearing. - - -Jane's acquaintance with Olive Townsend had progressed very slowly. -Olive was not a girl who possessed the gift of making many warm -friendships. She was not well liked even by the young people of her own -chosen circle. Girl visitors were not frequent at the Townsend house, -and Olive was seldom seen coming or going with one or another of such -friends. Yet there was something about her personality which held a -strong attraction for Jane, and made her want to know Olive well. - -When Peter returned from his first horseback ride in Olive's company, -Jane had waited with interest for his description of the event. Peter -always told Jane his experiences--for the reason, perhaps, that she -never demanded them from him, never betrayed his confidences, and -invariably showed her appreciation of his comradeship. - -"She 's an odd girl," said Peter to Jane. "She seemed principally -occupied, for the first two miles, in noticing how I rode, whether I -kept elbows in, head up, back stiff, like herself, and whether I held my -whip in the proper position. We jogged along at a fussy little pace, -talking about nothing in particular, and minding our p's and q's as if -we were at Professor Miller's riding academy, with the eye of the master -on us." - -"I hope she was satisfied with your correct style," Jane said. "I saw -you start, and I thought you looked more at home in the saddle than -she." - -"I probably am. After riding everything on grandfather's farm ever -since I was a little shaver, and breaking every colt he had for the -three years we lived there, I ought to feel fairly comfortable on a -model saddle-horse like the one she gave me. She's been trained in the -school, which leaves a lot of things to be desired, to my way of -thinking. She broke loose all right, though, when I got my chance to -show her what my idea of the sport is." - -Peter's face took on a comical expression, and Jane hurried him on with -an eager "Well?" - -"We got out on the Northboro Road. You know that long stretch where -there are so few houses--just a sort of lane between big trees, shady -and cool, and the road like a training-track at this time of year?" - -Jane nodded. - -"I proposed that we let out a reef or two. She agreed, and we broke -into a baby canter. I kept hitting up the pace a little. Her horse -caught the idea, and began to quicken. She bumped about a bit, but I -saw she would know how to stay on, even if she moved faster than she -ever had before. Just as we got up a fairly decent speed, one of those -little _crack-a-cracks_ of motor-cycles came bursting out of a driveway, -and both our horses shied and threatened to bolt. - -"It was nothing, you know; they were over it in a jiffy, and she kept -her seat all right, and showed she was game. But it stirred both horses -to take the rest of that stretch at as pretty a gallop as you 'd care to -see; and when I saw the girl was all right, I shouted, 'Come on!' and -let them have it. I tell you, she forgot the riding academy and -Professor Miller, and rode for fair. It was jolly good fun, and she -enjoyed it, too." - -Peter laughed reminiscently. Jane remarked that she had noticed Olive's -masses of black hair were not in quite such trim shape when she came -home from that ride as upon setting forth; and Peter admitted that upon -that joyous gallop she had dropped not only her whip, but most of her -hairpins, of which latter articles he had been able to recover for her -only a few. - -"That's all the girl needs," he observed, sagely. "Just shake out a few -of her hairpins each time you 're with her, and she 'll learn how to be -good friends with you." - -"I don't have much chance to shake out her hairpins," Jane objected. - -"You will. You're to go next time--some day when her brother Forrest is -away, and I can ride his horse and you the one I had. I told her a -pitiful tale of how you loved to ride, how well you could do it, -and----" - -"Peter!" - -"Oh, I didn't whine--just let her know I was n't the only horseman in -the family. She 'll ask you--see if she doesn't; if she doesn't I won't -go my self." - -Olive did not ask Jane, however, and after one more ride with her, Peter -suddenly became too busy to accept her invitations. Olive went off by -herself one day, suffered a fall and a sprained shoulder, and was -thereby initiated at last into Jane's friendship. - -"My sister sent me over," said Murray Townsend, one June evening, to -Jane, who, hemming a tiny ruffle, sat in the western sunlight upon the -little back porch, where the family now spent their evenings, enjoying -the first blossomings of the small garden. "She's been fretting all day -with that shoulder of hers she hurt last week, and vows she can't get -through the evening with me. The others are all away--as usual. Won't -you do us the favour of coming over?" - -"Was it really her suggestion--or yours?" Jane challenged him, for it -was not the first time he had made the attempt, upon one excuse or or -another, to get her across the street. - -"Hers, on my honour, though I 'll admit I seconded the motion. She -really wants you. She's lying on a couch round on the side porch. It's a -jolly place, or would be if it--had you in it," he nearly said, but -discreetly substituted--"had such a nice crowd in it as this." - -He glanced from one to another of the group upon the little porch. Ross -was softly breathing notes from a flute. Mr. and Mrs. Bell sat side by -side, in happy comradeship. Peter, his long legs extending well out -upon the grass before the porch, whittled at a bit of wood; and Nancy, -close beside her cousin Ross, was holding for him a page of music, which -he evidently was trying for the first time. - -"Stay with them, if you 'd like to," suggested Jane, softly, as she put -away her work and prepared to accept his invitation. "You know they -always like to have you--every one of them--and I can slip across by -myself. I 'll take her some of my mignonette and June roses." - -"Thank you for your kind permission," answered Murray, following Jane's -white-clad figure slowly down to the mignonette-bed at the farther end -of the garden, "but I 'd rather accept it some evening when Miss Jane -Bell is to be at home. 'Hamlet' with Ophelia left out would n't be much -more of a play than it would be minus the melancholy gentleman himself." - -Armed with a great bunch of the fragrant blossoms from the garden, Jane -accompanied Murray across Gay Street, through the gate in the high -hedge, and over the lawn and round the house to the great sheltered -porch on the other side, its tall columns making it as great a contrast -to the miniature place she had just left as could be imagined. Rugs -carpeted the floor, big bamboo and rush chairs invited repose, and -screens hung ready to be dropped, and to shut it quite away from -invading breezes. - -On a wide, richly cushioned settee lay Olive, listless and unhappy. She -scanned Jane closely, noted that her visitor was not less attractively, -if far less expensively, dressed than herself, and lifted to her face -eyes into which had suddenly come a look of relief and interest. - -"For me?" she asked, as Jane put the flowers into her outstretched -hands. "Oh, how sweet! Why don't we have such mignonette as that in our -gardens?" - -"There are a lot of flowers," thought Murray, as he watched Jane take -her seat by his sister and begin to entertain her, "that they grow in -Gay Street which we don't know the smell of over here. If we could just -transplant the one I brought over to-night, what a beginning of a garden -we should have!" - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - JANE PUTS A QUESTION - - -On her way home from a trip to a not far-distant fruit-shop, Nancy Bell -caught sight of her friend, Shirley Townsend, waving an eagerly -summoning hand from the gateway in the hedge. - -It was a hot morning in early July, and Nancy, after running into the -house to report her return to her mother, joined Shirley in a shady -corner under the shrubbery, which had become a favourite trysting-place -of the two children. - -Half an hour afterward Nancy, her eyes wide with excitement, sought out -her mother and Jane upon the small back porch, where each was busy with -the morning's work--at this moment the looking-over of raspberries and -the shelling of peas. - -"O mother--O Jane!" the child began, "the dreadfullest thing has -happened over at the big house! Forrest Townsend 's run away, and they -don't know where he is!" - -"Why, Nan!" Jane's busy fingers, red with raspberry stains, stopped -their work, as she stared at her sister in dismay. "That can't be so!" - -"Yes, it can--it is! Shirley told me. He's been gone three days, but -they thought he must be off on a visit till they got a letter this -morning. And they don't even know where the letter was mailed from. -Mrs. Townsend 's sick in bed about it, and Shirley says her father won't -say a word--just looks white and angry and queer." - -"The poor father and mother!" murmured Mrs. Bell, her eyes full of -sympathy. - -"But he can't have gone away to stay," said Jane, staring at Nancy, -still incredulous. "He's an impulsive fellow--quick tempered, -hot-headed--and he and his father don't get on well together. But to run -away----" - -"But he has," persisted Nancy. "The letter said it was no use looking -for him; he'd come back some time when he 'd shown he could look after -his own--oh, I don't remember just what he said--Shirley was n't sure -what it meant. But she said her mother just cried and cried, and told -her father she'd always known his harsh ways----" - -"Don't, dear--don't tell us!" Mrs. Bell interrupted, quickly. "Shirley -should n't have told you anything that was said; we have no right to -know. When people are hurt and sad, they say bitter things they are -very sorry for afterward. The only thing for us to know is that this -trouble has come to our neighbours. We must think how we can help them. -I would go over at once if I thought I could be of use to poor Mrs. -Townsend--and were sure she was willing I should know." - -They discussed the situation, Mrs. Bell and Jane, as they went on with -their work; and Jane told her mother all she knew of Forrest's -differences with his father. "It bothers me so," she ended, -sorrowfully, "that I did n't realise he was in earnest about taking -things into his own hands, and do something to let the others know. Do -you suppose that foolish threat about enlisting in the army could really -have been what he meant to do? Do you suppose he has done it?" - -"It is a possible clue. I think they ought to know it, if they have -nothing else to guide them. When your father comes home I will talk with -him about it, and he may think it best to go to Mr. Townsend himself, -tell him what we know, and offer to help." - -But it proved not necessary to wait until the evening to consult about -offering sympathy and counsel to the troubled family in Worthington -Square. Early in the afternoon, while Mrs. Bell lay resting in her room, -and Nancy and Jane sat in the shadow of one of the big maples at the end -of the garden--their special retreat on hot days--the tap of Murray's -cane was heard on the walk outside. - -"Run into the house, dear, please!" Jane whispered, quickly. "It 's -Murray, and I believe he's come to talk with me about Forrest." - -Her surmise proved correct, as she knew from her first glance at the -pale face and grave eyes of her friend. He was her friend--that she had -come to know very clearly in the last few weeks--her friend in quite a -different way from that in which Forrest had shown her friendship. There -had developed a genuine congeniality of interests between the quiet, -book-loving youth and the girl who had not gone to college, but who was -persistently giving herself the higher education she longed for. Books -he was lending her, lessons in French and German he had been lately -begging to be allowed to give her, and many inspiring talks he had with -her on the subjects both loved, whenever a chance offered or he could -make one. - -So now, as Murray came toward her, his eyes fixed upon her as if he were -sure that here he would find something he sorely needed, Jane felt an -added longing to show her power to be of use in time of trouble; and -dropping her book--one that belonged to Murray--she came forward to meet -him with outstretched hand, and a look which showed him that she already -understood. - -"You 've heard?" he asked, in surprise. "I don't know how, but I 'm -glad, for I dreaded to tell it." - -"Shirley told Nancy--just the bare facts--and of course my little sister -told my mother and me. We 've been thinking of you all ever since, -wishing we could help you." - -"You can; we need you. Even mother feels it. Olive says when she asked -her if she wanted a nurse, she refused to have one except her maid, but -said, 'I wish I dared to ask that kind-faced Mrs. Bell. I feel as if -she could tell me what to do.'" - -"Mother will be so glad. She will go over by and by. She loves to help -people, and always knows how better than anybody else in the world." - -"I can believe it. She makes a fellow feel as if he belonged to her, -somehow, and she was interested in him." - -"She is--that's why she makes you feel so.--Come over here in the shade, -please, and tell me what I can do." - -Murray dropped upon the grass beside Jane's low chair with a sigh of -weariness, and ran his hand through the thick locks of his hair, pushing -them away from his forehead with an impatient gesture, as if he would -like thus easily to clear away the clouds which bothered him. - -"You see," he began slowly, "I feel more or less responsible myself for -this outbreak. I can't help thinking that if things had been between us -as they ought to be between brothers Forrest would have brought his -notions and troubles to me." - -"But you--but he----" Jane paused, surprised at the tone he took. "You -have n't been able to be with Forrest much, because--because he has been -so active and lived such a different life----" - -"You are kind to excuse me, but I don't see how that makes it any -better. I could have shown interest and sympathy enough with his tastes -and plans to have made him come naturally to me. I 'm the elder -brother, and I have n't been a brother, only a querulous, fault-finding, -elderly relative, as if he were fourteen and I forty. He did come to -you with his grievances against father, did n't he?" - -Jane coloured a little as his eyes keenly questioned her. - -"Yes, though I did n't want him to tell me, and would n't listen to very -much of it. I felt guilty to let him talk at all, but he was so----" - -"I 'm glad you did. If anybody could have given him advice that he -would take it would have been you. I was pretty sure he had been to -you, by the way I saw him fling over here just after he 'd had a bout -with father." - -"He said something that day I feel as if your father ought to know, and -I 've been wondering how I could let him know," and with this -introduction, Jane told Murray all she had learned of Forrest's -inclination toward the army and its varied experiences, ending as gently -as she could with the boyish threat of enlisting if he could not bring -about his own appointment to West Point. Murray listened to her very -soberly. - -"Father would veto the West Point proposition from the first word," he -said, "merely because he has no notion of the sort of fascination the -idea would have for a restless chap like my brother. So if Forrest asked -him to let him go, I 've no doubt he refused him, and then--well, I can -easily imagine Forrest carrying out his threat out of pure bravado. It -gives us something to go by, anyhow. We can soon find out if he 's had -the folly to enlist. He may have the dash and bravery to do a gallant -deed, to fight stoutly enough at a time of need, but the patience and -endurance for the every-day army life----" He shook his head. "He's -only a boy, you know. You could n't expect it of him." - -Just here Peter opened the little garden gate and came swinging in. -"Hello!" he called, at sight of the pair under the maple-tree. "You two -look cool and restful out there. May I join the picnic party when I 've -freshened up a bit? A breakdown in the power at the factory sent fifty -or sixty of us in our department home for a quarter-holiday." - -"That 's luck for us, too!" called back Murray, cordially. - -Jane bent forward eagerly. "Do you mind Peter's knowing?" she asked. -"Pete's so big and strong and--ingenious; he 's like mother at knowing -what to do." - -"I want Peter to know," Murray replied, without hesitation. "We 're -going to try to keep this thing out of the papers, of course, and away -from our acquaintances as long as we can, but your family must all know. -I feel, somehow, as if having the Bell family stand by us would be worth -a lot." - -When Peter came out, in fresh clothes, his brown hair damp from the -splashing shower he had just taken, and joined the two others under the -maple, he was told the whole story. He listened in clear-eyed gravity, -with once or twice a short exclamation of regret. As Murray ended with -Jane's suggestion about the runaway's possible enlistment in the army, -Peter drew a long breath. - -"I believe I can understand how he felt about it," he said, throwing his -head back and staring up at the sky for a moment. Then, coming back to -earth with a squaring of his broad shoulders, he added, with a rueful -smile at Jane, "And that's not because my home is n't the happiest one -on earth. It 's just the feeling a fellow gets once in a while that he -'d like to jump over something and make a dash for the horizon line--to -see what's beyond it! And I can see how he----" Then he broke off -suddenly, looking at Murray. "That does n't mean I don't appreciate -what this is to all his family. And if there's anything I can do to -help, I 'm your man." - -"You 'd be a good one to send after him," Murray answered, with a slight -smile. "You 'd know better than to pounce on him like an officer of the -law. You 'd treat him like a brother--a better brother than I 've -been,"--and the smile faded. - -"Look here, don't take it that way. There are few brothers I know who -stand shoulder to shoulder as they ought to do. It's odd, but it's so, -and a pity it is, too. I think our family is different from most--for -the reason----" Here Peter stopped abruptly once more, meeting Jane's -eyes. He could not say that early training, given by wise parents, had -made all the difference in the world with their family life. - -"Yes, I fancy I know the reason," said Murray, wistfully, "and I -congratulate you on it." - -"I 'm a stupid sort of Job's comforter," Peter went on. "But one thing -is sure; if you 'd like an extra brother, to stand by in this -difficulty, here he is." - -He laid his hand on Murray's arm as he spoke, and Murray flushed with -pleasure. He turned and held out his own hand, and Peter's closed on it -with a grip. Then both began to talk with a will about other things. - -When Murray went home he took Mrs. Bell with him. He watched her vanish -through the doorway of his mother's room, where that poor lady had been -all day in a state of nervous prostration, and felt that he had brought -her a friend worth while. - -The moment that his father came home Murray went to him with the news he -had obtained in Gay Street. The two had a long conference, during which -Murray discovered his father to be watching him with a peculiar -expression, as if surprised to find this reserved son so ready with -suggestions. - -Mr. Townsend shook his head over the notion that Forrest could have -carried his revolt against authority so far as to have taken the step of -enlisting in the army; but when Murray urged that the clue should be -followed up, the elder man said slowly: - -"I don't know whether it would do any good to hunt him up and bring him -home. He's taken things into his own hands. I feel like letting him -manage his own affairs for a while. He has n't the force of character to -deprive himself of the comforts of life very long. If he has enlisted, -he 'd better take the consequences. I 'm not so sure but a term of -service in the army would do him good, take the conceit out of him, and -show him that he cannot escape discipline anywhere;--life itself means -discipline of one sort or another." - -"If we should find he had enlisted, then, you wouldn't take the steps to -get him off? You could, you know, sir, since he 's under age. Peter -says so." - -"Peter? Peter who?" - -"Peter Bell--in Gay Street." - -"Oh, yes. You see a good deal of the Bells, Murray?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"I don't think I should apply to have him released from service," said -Mr. Townsend, slowly, grim lines settling about his mouth. - -A week went by. At its close a second briefly letter arrived from -Forrest, addressed to his mother. It stated that Forrest had enlisted -in the army, and had, at his own application, been allowed to join a -regiment just leaving for San Francisco, to be sent for a term of three -years' service in the Philippines. By the time the letter reached home, -Forrest would have sailed. - -The letter was written in a spirit of boyish bravado, like the first, -but although it upset Mrs. Townsend again and sent her back to her bed, -it relieved the tension of the family. It furnished definite news of -the young fellow's whereabouts, and made it possible to communicate with -him when he should have reached his destination. - -Mrs. Townsend spent many days thereafter in urging her husband to apply -at headquarters to have her son returned. It could be done, she was -sure, because the boy was but nineteen, and having enlisted without his -father's permission, must have misrepresented his age at the -recruiting-station. But Mr. Townsend remained firm. He said that -Forrest, having chosen this course, must abide by it, at least for the -term of service for which he had enlisted. He would not have a turncoat -for a son, he said sternly, although with a suspicious lowering of the -voice; and he was more and more impressed with the conviction that the -hard realities of life would make a man out of Forrest if the stuff of -which men are made was in him. - -"Meanwhile," he said to Murray, with a sadness which the other detected, -"it is the father, rather than the son, after all, who has the bitterest -dose of medicine to take." - -"I 'm sorry, sir," was all Murray could say, wondering if his father -meant the fact that his plan for taking Forrest into the business would -have to be given up. - -He suggested this to Jane Bell, in the little garden one evening, down -by the phlox-bed, where she had gone to pick a bunch of flowers for -Olive, who sat upon the porch with Ross and Peter. Olive had at last -learned the way over to Gay Street, and having found it, had discovered -that the knowledge lent interest to a life she had felt to be very dull. - -"I suppose he feels badly about it," said Murray, holding the phlox Jane -gave him while she picked a cluster of lilies to go with it. - -"Indeed, he must." - -"It is the thing he has looked forward to for years--ever since he -realised he could n't make a business man out of me." - -"Yes, and I suppose, even if your brother came back after two or three -years, less head-strong than now, he might not be any more willing to -settle down to that life." - -"No, I doubt if he would. It's all up for father, and it's a tremendous -disappointment." - -"I am very, very sorry for him," said Jane, gravely, musing over her -lilies. There was silence for a moment; then she looked up. "You don't -think," she ventured, her hazel eyes scanning his, "that anybody could -possibly make it up to him?" - -"Anybody? Who?" - -"Who, indeed?" Jane was breathing a little quickly. - -Murray stared at her in mingled astonishment, questioning and dismay. -Then he spoke, abruptly and roughly: "In the name of all absurdity, you -can't mean _me_?" - -Jane dropped her eyes, flushing deeply. She bit her lips. "It would be -very, very hard, would n't it?" - -Murray drew a deep, impatient breath. "_Hard!_" he exploded, and turned -away. Then he wheeled back. "You're not serious?" he said, hurriedly. -"You can't be serious in even suggesting such a thing. I--bookworm, -cripple, weakling----" - -Jane raised her eyes once more. In the deepening twilight Murray felt -as if they were searching his soul. - -"And yet," she said, slowly, and almost wistfully, "it would be such a -magnificent thing to do. It would take hero stuff, I know--yet," she -smiled, "I think--you--could----" Then she stopped short. "Oh, forgive -me!" she cried, softly, under her breath. "What am I that I should -suggest hero deeds to you? A girl who cries nearly every night of her -life because she can't go to college!" - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - MURRAY GIVES AN ANSWER - - -"I wish I knew," observed Olive Townsend to Jane Bell, "what in the -world is the matter with Murray. He acts as if he had lost his head -completely. I went into his room this morning, and almost fell over a -pile of Indian clubs and dumb-bells; and I saw a set of chest weights -hanging against the wall. It's the queerest thing! He's never gone in -for that sort of thing at all--and I shouldn't think he was strong -enough for it, either." - -The two girls were driving along the park roadway in a high-hung phaeton -of Olive's, behind a very smartly harnessed horse. This was the third -time Olive had asked Jane to drive with her, and although Jane would -have enjoyed excursions into the country much more than these drives -about the fashionable city streets, she appreciated the honour Olive -meant to do her in thus exhibiting their friendship to all beholders. -Olive had grown to be rather proud of Jane's company upon these drives, -for she was conscious that they attracted considerable admiring -attention, and she fancied that Jane's quiet daintiness of attire set -off her own rather more striking style. - -Jane laughed at the notion that Murray was not strong enough to put -himself in the way of being stronger. She knew it was Peter who had -suggested this course of proceedings in response to an envious comment -from Murray, when he had seen Peter scantily garbed for some severe -physical labor about the house. - -"Biceps?" Peter had laughed, as Murray grasped the sinewy arm and -expressed his admiration for the fine development thereof. "And -deltoid?--Oh yes, that's easy. If your particular form of daily toil -does n't give you muscle where you want it, get it for yourself with -exercise. You can build up anything you like in a gymnasium--or in your -own room, if you have the persistence." - -"You could, with your splendid health to begin on, of course," Murray -replied, with a sigh, for he had begun to suspect that Peter's unusual -level-headedness and efficiency came in considerable degree from his -well-developed body. - -"So could you. A year of solid work with a good instructor would make -another chap of you. Two years, an athlete." - -"Oh, no--not with my constitution." - -"Your constitution, man!" Peter had almost shouted. "What's -constitution? Something to be made just about what you will of. -Fellows with a direct tendency toward consumption have made themselves -giants by living outdoors and sawing wood." - -This had been the beginning, the first result of which serious talk had -been the dumb-bells and chest-weights which had called forth Olive's -suspicion of her brother's sanity. - -"But he's never cared for anything but books--and to be let alone," -objected Olive, when Jane replied that she thought nothing better could -happen to Murray than to become interested in building up his physical -being. "It's just since Forrest has been gone--only think, that's six -weeks now--that Murray has been at this." - -"It's telling on him already, too," said Jane, feeling a sense of -elation over the fact which she could not quite account for. "He has a -better colour. I noticed it yesterday." - -"That was sunburn," declared Olive, skeptically. "He spent the afternoon -lying on the ground with a book down by the hedge, right squarely in the -hot August sun. I think it was ridiculous." - -"He's lived in the house ever so much more than was good for him," Jane -insisted, gently. "So does everybody in cities. My idea of -happiness--one sort--is a day on my grandfather's farm. It's only about -ten miles out, and we 've a plan. Should you, Murray, and Shirley, care -to spend a day with us out there? A sort of picnic, you know. Down by -the river there are the loveliest places you can imagine, and Peter says -he 'll take you fishing if you care for it." - -"Indeed I should, I 'm sure," agreed Olive, with real pleasure. She -loved new sensations, and the notion of going fishing with Peter Bell -appealed to her strongly. She was growing more and more to respect and -admire Peter; in a way, it was true, in which she quite failed to -appreciate his best qualities, but in which she responded, nevertheless, -to those which his family would have rated as his second best. - -"Don't forget the picnic," was Olive's last word, as she set Jane down -at her own door. "I shall begin to get an outing hat ready now." - -"If I should forget, Peter would remind me. It's his plan," Jane -reassured her--a fact which of itself pleased Olive, for she was -confident that it meant his regard for her entertainment. - -If she had known, however, the whole plan was a plot of Peter's for -Murray's diversion. - -"The fellow 's worrying about something," Peter had said. "He's -pitching into the exercises I showed him, but his mind 's counting -against him. I know what he wants to build himself up for. He told me -that if he had to be the family's sole representative in the matter of -sons for the next three years, he wanted to put up a better showing, and -I 'm decidedly glad he takes it that way. I 'd hate myself to be five -feet ten and weigh only one hundred and thirty. Let 's take him--and the -girls if you like--out for a day on Grandfather Bell's farm. What do -you say? Do you suppose we could make the thing acceptable to Miss -Worthington Square?" After due consideration of the matter, and some -consultation with her mother, Jane had enthusiastically agreed. Now, -upon returning from the drive, she was able to tell Peter that Olive had -accepted the invitation with alacrity. - -"What--fishing and all?" he laughed. "Really, I think better of her -ladyship than ever for coming down to earth like that. The question is -now, how to get them there without resorting to hay-wagons--a form of -conveyance I judge Miss Olive would n't deign to accept." - -"Imagine one rolling up to the _porte-cochere_ on the Worthington Square -front!" and Jane broke into such a merry laugh that everybody joined -in--for Jane had told Peter her news at the dinner-table. - -"Let Miss Olive and Murray and Shirley drive in their own trap, and have -Pete bring out grandfather's new surrey for us. I 'm sure it's as trim -a looking vehicle as any, if his horses don't have quite the smartest -harness going," suggested Ross McAndrew. "The horses themselves are -crack-a-jacks." - -"That will have to do, I think," Jane agreed, "though it seems too bad -to ask our guests to take themselves." - -"No matter in what order we go, you 'll find we 'll come home -democratically mixed up," prophesied Ross. "I defy Miss Worthington -Square to withstand the leveling influences of a day on Grandfather -Bell's farm. I 've no doubt Peter will drive the trap home, with Rufe -hanging on the back seat, and Murray will learn what it means to coax a -pair of shy farm horses past the electric cars. As for me, I may come -home as jockey on young Major's back, the city youth having proved not -up to the situation." - -With such merry comments the preparation for the picnic was made. And -if the Bells had known it, their guests looked forward to the affair -with quite as pleasant anticipations as themselves. When the day -came--a sultry August morning, with signs of thunder-showers in the -west--Olive and Murray and Shirley found themselves as willing to risk a -possible wetting as the Bells themselves, who never minded such small -things as thunder-showers in the least. - -The farm horses--Grandfather Bell's pride, and with reason, for they -were a fine pair of blacks--led the way, the new surrey carrying such a -jolly company that the guests, following close behind in the smart trap, -tried in vain to rival their hilarity. The three Townsends were all -arrayed in white linen from head to foot, and presented a cool and -attractive spectacle; but Murray's eyes watched with envy the -parti-coloured group in the conveyance ahead, and Olive reluctantly -owned to herself that Jane's fresh little blue cotton frock, while -better suited to a farm picnic than one of white linen, was also a -charming spot of colour upon the landscape. - -"Now, who's going fishing?" called back Peter, as he drove his steeds -briskly in through Grandfather Bell's gateway, followed by the trap at -its best pace. "It's clouding over now, so that we ought to have some -good sport--if the rain holds off, and I think it will, judging by the -wind. Grandfather Bell can tell us that," he added, as a tall old man -of a hale and vigorous aspect came out of the house to greet his guests. - -"The rain won't bother you before afternoon, I guess," prophesied -Grandfather Bell, shaking hands cordially with his guests. "When it -does, you 'd better put for the house. You can have your picnic -indoors, where you won't get your clothes wet," and his glance fell on -the three white-clad young people from the city. - -"Never mind our clothes," said Murray. "We were thinking of the hot day -coming when we put them on. It would have been more sensible to dress -like you fellows," and he glanced from Ross's worn gray corduroys to -Peter's faded blue flannels, in which costumes both young men looked -ruggedly--and not unattractively--ready for roughing it. - -"Picnics appeal to people from different points of view," suggested -Ross. "Now, Miss Olive can certainly sit on a rock and watch Peter, -Rufe, Nan and myself fish, giving us practical suggestions from time to -time--in a whisper. Perhaps she 'll photograph us with that camera she -has there. But I would advise that Mr. Murray Townsend, Miss Shirley -Townsend, and Miss Jane Bell, sit apart on some mossy bank and read some -pleasant tale _about_ fishing." - -"Nonsense. You talk like a stage manager," jeered Peter. "Miss Olive -'s going to do some real fishing if Grandmother Bell has to lend her a -dress to go home in--and so are the rest. Fishing is the first thing on -this programme and fishing is to be done. You saw to the rods and -lines, Rufe--where are they?" - -Rufe raced away to the barns, and came back with a full fishing -equipment for everybody. After greeting Grandmother Bell, a pleasant -little old lady, with a warm welcome for every one, the party proceeded -through the orchard and down a long, maple-Leaded lane to the river--a -picturesque spot, which had been the paradise of the Bell family from -its earliest recollections. - -Here sport reigned for an hour, although few fish were caught. The -spirit of hilarity ruled the holiday too thoroughly to admit of much -wooing of the frightened prey; but nobody minded except Rufus, who -finally left the others and wandered away up-stream, whence he returned -after a time, triumphant, with a respectable showing of fish. - -"The clouds don't look as threatening as they did. Could n't we climb -that small hill on the other side of the river? I 've been looking at -that winding path for an hour, wishing I could see where it leads," said -Murray to Jane, propping his fishing-rod against a tree. - -"It leads to a little hemlock grove, and a field of corn beyond," -answered Jane, fanning her flushed and laughing face with her -wide-brimmed hat. - -"Oh, don't tell me! Come and explore it with me, will you?" Murray -gave her such a pleading look that she could not refuse him, although -she and Peter had agreed that this picnic was not to be a "pairing off" -affair, because that would leave Ross in the lurch, and Ross had been -working hard of late, and needed an outing, his cousins thought, more -than anybody. - -"We'll just go over and back, if you like--to satisfy your curiosity," -and Jane let him walk away with her. - -They slowly climbed the hill path, Murray stopping to cut himself a -stout staff in lieu of the cane he no longer used. "I shall always be -lame," he said to Jane, "but I 'm not going to depend on canes any -longer except for such special occasions as this. Do you know, I think -I 'm growing a shade brawnier--thanks to Peter's training." - -"I 'm sure you are; you look it," responded Jane, warmly, "and I 'm so -glad." - -"There has been wonderful work done in the world by people in ill -health. But I 'm afraid I could never be a Carlyle or a Stevenson, no -matter how bright the fires of genius burned. They worked for the love -of it, but when the task a fellow sees before him is one he dislikes, he -certainly needs the backing of a sound body." - -As they attained the top of the hill, panting a little for breath, -Murray stared ahead into the hemlock grove. - -"That 's a cool-looking spot. Can't we sit down there a few minutes? I -'ll have to rest a bit before I do more," he urged. "It's three years -since I climbed a hill like that--just the day before I had my accident. -I seem to have got started on the uninteresting subject of myself, so I -may as well go on a little further and tell you my plans about the same -chap, if you don't mind listening." - -"I 'd love to hear them. Here's a fine mossy spot, and two trees to -lean against," and Jane dropped at the foot of one of the trees she had -pointed out. Murray, casting aside his stick, threw himself down at -full length near by, his arms clasped under his head. - -"Ah, this is great!" he murmured. "Smell those balsams? It makes one -want to live outdoors. And that's what I'm thinking of doing." - -"Really? How? Will you pitch a tent on the lawn? That would be fine -for you, and we should all envy you." - -"No, I want a more radical change to outdoor life than that--or at least -I want the results. I 've made up my mind that to live my life out as a -bookish invalid, if I might do better, is 'too poor a way of playing the -game of life,' as one author I like immensely puts it. I shall stick to -the books all I can, but--I want some good red blood in my veins -besides." - -Forrest's words spoken weeks ago, charging Murray with the very lack of -"red blood," came to Jane's mind, and she smiled and sighed, thinking -what a change those weeks had made in the relations of the two brothers. -And here was Murray wishing for the very thing the want of which his -vigorous brother had deplored. - -"I 'm sure you can have it, and all the good things that go with it." - -"Which are many, as you people have already taught me. Honestly, it's -seeing your family so alive and hearty and happy that's brought me to be -dissatisfied with myself. I 'm going to have need of all I can put into -Murray Townsend, and so--I 've about made up my mind----" - -He hesitated, pulling a hemlock branch through his slim fingers with -nervous energy. Then he began again: "I 've been reading a lot lately -about life on one of those Western ranches--real ranch life, I mean; not -Eastern play at it. I 've a cousin who went to Montana six years ago. I -get a letter from him once in a while. He's a Westerner now, -full-fledged. I doubt if he ever comes East again to stay. I 've -written him to ask if he has any room for a tenderfoot on his ranch, and -if he says he 'll take me in, I think I 'll go." - -"Right away?" - -"Right away, if father agrees--and I think he will. He 'll be only too -glad to have me take the chance of making a man out of myself, instead -of a bloodless bookworm." Murray turned over with a short laugh, and -propping his chin on his elbows, lay looking at Jane. - -"How long shall you stay?" - -"Long enough to do the business. A year, if necessary. When I come -back, I 'll probably be wearing leather leggings with fringes, a -handkerchief round my neck, and a sombrero. I 've no doubt the cowboys -will have played tricks enough on me to prove satisfactorily to all -concerned whether I 'm a man or a mushroom." - -Jane looked steadily down at the face below her, and realised that it -was a face of strength as well as of fineness. The eyes which met hers -were enlivened by a determination she had never seen in them before, and -her answer brought into them a light which surprised and pleased her. - -"I think it's the best plan in the world," she said, heartily, "and I -know it will succeed. Nobody ever set himself to accomplishing anything -without accomplishing either that thing or something better." - -"What could the 'something better' be in my case?" - -"I don't know. Do you?" - -The question was a challenge. Murray sat up. A tinge of red crept into -his cheek. "Yes, I know," he answered. "So do you, I think. You put it -into my head. Am I a coward, that I can't decide to give myself over to -my father and the business?" - -"No. But you are planning to put your shoulder to his wheel somehow--I -know you are, or you would n't be trying so hard to strengthen that -shoulder." - -"You're a wizard--or a witch." Murray spoke soberly; then he laughed, -as the two pairs of eyes met, and he caught the fire in Jane's. "Are you -always so sure of your friends?" - -"Always. If I have a friend, I believe in--her--whether she wants me to -or not. She always proves me right." - -"Suppose it 'him'? - -"I don't know so much about the 'hims,'" said Jane, "except my brothers. -The rule works with them." - -"You must be an inspiring sister. You 've brothers enough already, I -suppose, but I wish you 'd adopt another. My sister--she can't be far -from your age, but she seems years younger. She has n't thought about -things the way you have. Look here! If I go to Montana for a year, I -shall be pretty lonesome sometimes, I expect. Will you let me write to -you?" - -"It would be great fun," answered Jane, simply, "to have letters from a -real cowboy with six-shooters in his belt." - -"I 'll take them out when I write to you. Must we go back? Well, if you -think we ought--though I 'd like to lie here all day and dream dreams -about the great things I 'm going to do. But a fellow can't dream much -in the society of the Bells--he has to be up and doing." - -"With a heart for any fate," quoted Jane, blithely, as she led the way. -"I 'll tell you a better motto than that, though, fine as it is." - -"What is it? Give it to me, will you?" - -"I 'll write it out for you." - -"When?" - -"To-morrow, perhaps." - -"To-day, please. I 'm an impatient chap." - -"Very well. You shall have it when we get home. It's one I can't talk -about, somehow--it gives me a choke in my throat--I don't know why." - -Hours later Murray found out why. By the time he and Jane had rejoined -the rest of the party the threatening storm-clouds had brought the -promised rain. The lunch had to be eaten in Grandmother Bell's pleasant -kitchen, but the guests enjoyed it almost as much as they could have -done in the sylvan spot that Peter had picked out. By three o'clock in -the afternoon the storm had passed. It had cooled the air a little, so -that it was possible for the party to spend three long and delightful -hours upon the river before going home. - -"We three in what was once white," said Murray, as he stood by the trap, -"are a pretty sorry-looking crowd to go back all together. Why may I not -change places with Peter, and drive the Bell family home?" - -Ross chuckled as he winked at Jane, and she recalled his prophecy of -some days earlier. But it was he and Nancy who took the back seat of -the trap, leaving Rufus and Shirley in the surrey, to carry on an -acquaintance which had developed to great friendliness in the Townsend -tennis-court, where the children had played every evening throughout the -summer. - -Up in his own room Murray took from his pocket a slip of paper Jane had -given him as she said good night, and unfolding it as if it were a -message from a royal hand, he read it slowly through. The expectation -of this message had been warm all through the pleasant drive home in the -twilight. - -The words of Jane's quotation were these:--and as it happened that he -had never seen them before, they came to him at this crisis of his life -with peculiar force. - - "Life is an arrow--therefore you must know - What mark to aim at, how to use the bow-- - Then draw it to the head, and let it go!" - - -There was a little constriction in Murray's own throat as he studied the -brave words. He saw at a flash their deeper meaning. "Make myself fit -to live my life," he thought "and then--whether it's the life I want to -live or not--let it go! Jane, you know how to fit the arrow to my -hand--bless you! I will _draw_ it to the head--_and let it go_!" - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - SNAP SHOTS - - -"A letter from Montana for Miss Jane Bell," observed Peter, distributing -the mail at the breakfast-table one May morning, nine months after the -picnic at Grandfather Bell's farm. "It strikes me these Montana letters -are beginning to arrive with astonishing regularity." - -"They began," declared Ross, enjoying the sight of the sudden colour in -Jane's face, as she tucked the letter into her belt and tried vainly to -look unconscious as she went on serving the family from a big dish of -oatmeal porridge, "by coming modestly once in about three or four weeks. -Then they got to once a fortnight--that was in midwinter. Along about -April----" - -"If I were a big, grown man," murmured Jane, "I 'd never condescend to -keep track of----" - -"Along in April," pursued Ross, unmoved, "once in ten days was the -schedule. But this last, coming as it does just one short week after -its predecessor, and carrying, as it does, two large red -postage-stamps--which, I am confident, is underpayment----" - -"Stop teasing!" cried Nancy, always loyal to her sister. "Every one of -you is envying Jane, wishing you could have letters from a real cowboy." - -"A real cowboy!" laughed Ross. "I think I see Murray Townsend getting -himself up in that rig. With his pale face and thin shoulders he 'd -look like the tenderest kind of a tenderfoot." - -Jane pulled the letter out of her belt. The previous letter had -promised that this one should bring some snap-shot pictures of the -writer and his surroundings. She hoped, as she broke the seal, that she -should find them, feeling sure that the extra thick letter indicated -that it carried the promised enclosures. - -As she pulled out the sheets a little packet of blue-prints dropped into -her lap. She picked them up and fell to looking at them. Peter, -sitting next to her, laughed to himself, as he reached for his dish of -oatmeal, Jane having forgotten to serve him. But everybody forgot -breakfast, as the blue-prints went round the table. All but one were -scenes of ranch and camp life, bringing into view horses and cowboys of -all sorts and conditions, each carefully labelled with its descriptive -title. But the one at the bottom of the pack was called "the -tenderfoot"--the only one of the set in which Jane's correspondent was -in evidence. - -"Can it be possible this is Murray?" exclaimed Mrs. Bell, studying -incredulously the erect figure on horseback, life and energy in every -outline, from the tilt of the wide hat to the set of the leg in the -saddle. "Why, he looks as if he weighed thirty pounds more than when he -went away." - -"By George, the fellow has n't roughed it nearly a year for nothing, has -he?" admitted Ross. "He doesn't look the stage cowboy, either--I 'll -say that for him. Those clothes have seen wear and rain, and that hat -has had the true Western shape knocked into it. It makes you envy him, -does n't it?" - -Peter said nothing, but his eyes dwelt upon the figure in the saddle -with a look of longing so intense that if anyone had been observing him -it must have told his story plainly. One person was observing him, and -as Peter looked up at last, with an involuntary glance at his father, -who had just made some observation on the advantage it had been to the -rich man's son to get out among the ranchmen and gain a new view of -life, he met his father's eyes. Joseph Bell understood just what it -meant to Peter to stay at home and work as foreman in a note-paper -factory when there were such places as Montana in the world waiting for -young men to come and explore them. And there was that in his father's -look which told Peter that his sacrifice was appreciated. - -Up in her own room, when a dozen duties had been done, Jane read her -letter. It was to her a deeply interesting letter, as had been all -those which came before it, for Murray wielded a graphic pen, and his -pictures of the sort of life he had been living were vivid as -colour-sketches. He was rejoicing in the coming of spring and summer, -after the long, cold winter, and his delight seemed to Jane so unlike -any pleasure in outdoor life she had seen him show at home that it -filled her with joy. The letter said, as it neared the close and fell -into the personal vein, as letters do: - - -I never knew before what it was to breathe way down to the bottom of my -lungs. My existence--after my accident, and up to the time I came -here--seems now to me like that of some pale monk in his cell, feeding -on other men's thoughts, but never living them himself. I've learned to -live! You, who have long known that secret, will be glad with me, won't -you? - -All through the winter I was wrapped to the eyes whenever I put my head -out of the cabin door. Men dress warmly here in the -winter--flannel-lined canvas overcoats--"blanket coats" they call -them--felt boots, and all that. But they don't make grannies of -themselves as I did--at first. As the winter advanced, though, I began -to get hardened to it, and before spring I could stand a pretty low -temperature without feeling my blood congeal. But when spring -came--spring in this Western country! I wish I could describe it. The -air like wine, the sunshine like--nothing I can think of. When spring -came I began to expand mentally and physically--and in still another -way, I think. Anyhow, I 'm not the same fellow who went to the doctor -for an outfit of drugs before he dared start West. - -I 've learned a lot from these men I 've been associated with. A rough -set they would seem to you, most of them--they did to me at first. But -when I got to know them, underneath the roughness I found--men. It's no -use trying to put it into a letter. I must talk with you, face to -face--and just what that means to me when I think of it I won't venture -to say. I 'll be home in the fall, and then--I 'm going into my -father's business. I have n't said that before, have I? You 'll please -not mention it to anyone, except Peter, if you like; I want to surprise -father. That's going to be my reward for doing my duty. It is my -duty--I see it plainly at last, and every ounce of determination I can -grow from now till fall is going to be just so much more to offer him. -But I won't brag about that. Do the best I can, it won't be a wonderful -gift, for I 'm afraid my talents don't lie in that direction. But if -honest effort can make up--Jane, I have n't watched some of these heroic -chaps for nothing. I 'm simply shamed into taking my medicine, and -shutting my mouth tight after it. And that's the last word about it's -being medicine. I 'm going to get interested in the business if -pitching in all over will do it. - -This is a long letter, and I 'm done--except to tell you that the West -does n't deserve all the credit for my altered views of life. A certain -girl I know, who wanted to go to college, but gave up all thought of it -because, besides the family, her father and brothers had half a dozen -helpless elderly relatives to support, isn't the poorest sort of -inspiration to her friend, when he happens to be a fellow who never gave -up anything for anybody in his life. He values her friendship far more -than he dares to tell her now. Somebody--Ruskin?--said a knight's armour -never fitted him quite so well as when the lady's hand had braced -it--and I 'm beginning to understand what that rather picturesque -metaphor may mean. Do I sound sentimental, and are you laughing at me? -Don't do it! I 've not a "gun" in my belt, but I'm rather a rough -looking customer nevertheless. I came in an hour ago, wet to the -skin--caught out in a cloudburst without my slicker--and while my -clothes dry am attired in my cousin's (seven sizes too big!) being -averse to putting on any of the clothes in my trunk, the foolish clothes -of civilisation. - -I weigh one hundred and sixty-five. What do you think of that? And -it's not flesh, but worked-on muscle and sinew. Did I say I was done? I -am. But I am also - -Faithfully your friend, - MURRAY TOWNSEND. - - -"You look it," agreed Jane, studying the photograph. "You certainly -look it." She gave the little print one more careful examination, -noting the steady gaze the pictured face gave back, a spirited -expression very different from the half-moody look she had first known; -then she put the photographs away and went about her work. And as she -went, a little song sang itself over and over in her heart--the song of -trust in a ripening friendship of the sort that makes life worth living. - -Spring and summer passed slowly by, marking a growing interchange of -amenities between the little house in Gay Street and the big one in -Worthington Square. Things had happened during the winter, things kept -on happening as the year advanced, to draw the two families together. In -January Shirley had had a long and severe illness, during which Mrs. -Bell and Jane made their way into the inmost heart of every member of -the household. There were nights during that illness when Joseph Bell, -feeling that difference of social position counted for nothing when a -father was in trouble, went over to shake Harrison Townsend's hand, -bidding him be of courage--and found himself detained as a friend in -need. - -By and by, when the anxiety was over and the Bells ceased coming often -in and out, the Townsends began to summon them. Mr. Townsend discovered -the shrewd wisdom and genial philosophy of Joseph Bell to be of value, -and often went to sit with him in the little front room, where his eyes -noted with approval the rows of books. He discovered that Armstrongs's -head man knew more that lay between the covers of those books than did -Harrison Townsend himself. - -As for Mrs. Townsend and Mrs. Bell, while they were too different in -temperament and taste to get far into each other's lives, they found -enough in common to bring them together rather oftener than could -naturally have been expected. There was a quiet poise about Mrs. Bell -which the other woman, accomplished woman of the world though she was, -could only study in despair of ever being able to attain. But she found -a rest and refreshment in her neighbour's society which none of her more -fashionable friends could give her, and she sent often for Mrs. Bell to -keep her company. - -"Olive's taken one big step in advance," Peter said to his mother, one -day in early summer. "She has begun to write regularly to Forrest." - -"I'm very glad," said Mrs. Bell. "Does he answer her letters?" - -"He does--only too glad to, I should say. She's shown me some of his -letters. There 's a homesick grunt to them, that's sure. Life in the -army, and particularly life in the Philippines, is n't unmitigated -bliss, and he's finding it out. He does n't exactly squeal, but you can -see how it is with him." - -"It will do Olive good to take up such a sisterly duty. Was it your -suggestion?" asked Mrs. Bell. - -"How did you guess that? I did give her a talk one day, when she -happened to say that Shirley was the only one of the family who wrote to -Forrest with any regularity. She was pretty angry with me for a day or -two, but she came round, and now she writes once a fortnight. There 's -really more to that girl than you would think." - -"She is improving very much, I am sure," agreed his mother, warmly. -"With a different early training, Olive would have been by now a much -more lovable girl than she has seemed. But, happily, it 's not too late -to give her new ideals, and I think you have helped in that direction." - -"Ideals?" mused Peter. "I don't think I have any of those--at least, I -don't call them by that name. Rules of the game--how will that do, -instead? The foreman of Room 8 in a note-paper factory is n't supposed -to have ideals, is he?" - -"I don't know about that. Suppose you ask the men and women under you. -I fancy they would protest your ideals were pretty hard for them to live -up to?" - -Peter laughed to himself. "Maybe they would. But they would n't put it -that way. 'The boss is a tough one to suit,' they 'd say." - -"Call it what you will--rules of the game, if you like. But, as the -children used to say, 'Peter Bell plays fair!'" - -"I hope he does. If he does n't, it is n't the fault of his trainer." -And the gray eyes met the brown ones for an instant in a glance which -said many things Peter could not have spoken. - -The days went on; June gave place to July; August heat melted into -September mildness; and October, with its falling leaves, marked the end -of the days of outdoor life lived from April to November in the little -garden. - -"The twenty-fifth is Jane's birthday," observed Nancy to Shirley, -several days before that event. "We 're wondering what to do in -celebration." - -"Why, it's mine, too!" cried Shirley. "How funny that we did n't know -it! We ought to celebrate it together." - -This remark was duly reported to Mrs. Bell, who said at once that they -must invite Shirley over to have her birthday cake with Jane's. But -before this plan could be carried into effect, an invitation arrived -from the big house, asking every member of the Bell household to be -present at a small dinner of Shirley's own planning. - -"This is the first time we 've all been asked over there together--it's -quite an occasion," declared Peter, on the evening of the twenty-fifth, -as he stood waiting in the doorway for everybody to be ready. "I say," -he exclaimed, "but we're gorgeous!" - -And he fastened admiring eyes on his mother, who was dressed in a pale -gray gown of her own making, and therefore of faultless effect. The -quality was fine also, for Peter had looked after that. - -"Gorgeous does n't seem exactly the word," Ross commented. "Demure but -coquettish, I should call that gown." - -The party proceeded in a body to the corner of Worthington Square, where -Jane, under escort of Peter, came to a sudden halt. "Oh, I 've -forgotten something to go with my present to Shirley," she said to him. -"Give me the key, please. I 'll run back and get it. Don't wait. I -want to slip into the dining-room over there, anyway, before I see -anybody, and I 'll come in by the side door." - -So Jane ran back alone, and let herself into the dark house, the lamps -having, for safety, been all extinguished before the family went out. -She hurriedly lighted the lamp in the front room, for she meant to fill -out a card with a certain appropriate quotation, to put with Shirley's -gift, and the book she needed was in this room. - -The quotation was not as easily found as she had thought it would be, -and hurriedly searching for it, Jane consumed considerable time, but did -not want to give it up, for the words fitted Shirley delightfully, and -would give point to the gift. - -So bending over the book, still unsuccessful, she heard with regret the -sound of a quick step upon the porch, followed by a ring at the bell. -She sprang up, book in hand, wishing she had taken her affairs, with her -light, into the dining-room. Hoping that her appearance, in her evening -frock, would warn the chance visitor that the time was inopportune, she -opened the door. - -"Jane!" exclaimed a joyful voice. "Ah, but this is good luck!" And -Jane looked up into a face so brown and rugged and strong that for an -instant she did not know it. But the eyes gazing eagerly into her own -told her in the next breath who stood before her. She put out both -hands, speechless with surprise. They were grasped and held, as Murray -Townsend closed the door behind him with a sturdy shoulder. - -"I--you--why, I thought you were n't coming for a month yet," she said, -half shyly, for in spite of the smile and the warm handclasp, it seemed -as if this must be a stranger who stood before her, radiating health and -happiness, and looking so different from the pale young man who had gone -away a year before. - -"I was hit by a sudden wave of homesickness that swept me off my feet," -Murray explained, releasing the hands which were gently drawing -themselves away, but continuing to stare down at the engaging young -figure in its modest evening attire, as if he had seen nothing so -attractive in all Montana, in spite of his fine tales of its glories. -"I began to think about it, and that was fatal. Once the notion of -coming home a bit ahead of the date I 'd set took hold of me, I was no -more use to anybody. They told me to pack up and start, for I was n't -fit to brand a calf, and could n't earn my salt." He laughed. "Tell me -you 're not sorry." - -"Indeed, I'm not. This happens to be my birthday, and it's the nicest -surprise I've had yet." - -"Thank you--that's the welcome I wanted. But"--he glanced at her dress -again, and his face fell--"you were going out?" - -"Only to Worthington Square," laughed Jane. "It's Shirley's birthday, -too, and we're all to be there at dinner. Why, you must know! You 've -just come from there." - -"That is a joke on me. I rang--no latch-key, you know--and a new maid I -'ve never seen let me in. I saw everything lighted up and flowers all -about, and asked if they were entertaining. She said they were, and -everybody was dressing. So I just turned and ran, thinking I 'd slip -over here and see you first, since I could n't see much of my family -till the affair was over. Well, well--so I may spend the evening in your -company. Talk about luck!" - -They stood there, exchanging questions and replies in the laughing, -disconnected way in which people are wont to address each other in the -first excitement of an unexpected and welcome meeting, neither of them -knowing quite what they were saying, but each feeling that something of -great importance had happened. Then Jane gathered up her wraps and -Shirley's gift, and said, with a startled glance at the clock, "It is -later than I thought! We must go this minute." - -"Shall I put out the light?" and Murray strode across the floor. Jane -noted with gladness that his walk was the walk of a strong man. - -They crossed the street to the hedge gate, and came to the side -entrance. As he put his thumb to the bell, Murray said, half under his -breath, "I've imagined all sorts of home-comings, but never one quite so -nice as this. To make my entrance with you----" - -"Oh, you 're not going to make it with me!" said Jane, gaily. "I shall -stay in the dining-room, arranging Shirley's plate, until you are safe -in the midst of them." - -And plead as he would, Murray found there was no way to make her change -this decision. So, at last, hearing the voices of the others in the big -hall, where they were gathered about the fireplace, in which roared a -royal October fire, he went to the door and opened it a crack. From -this position, he looked back at Jane, where she stood by Shirley's -chair watching him across the gala decorations of roses which crowned -the handsome table. - -"I 'm at home again!" he called to her softly, and she nodded, smiling. - -Then, hat in hand, he threw the door wide and marched through, shoulders -back, head up, eyes intent upon the faces which, at the opening of the -door, had turned that way. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - HIDE AND SEEK - - -There was a moment's astonished hush as the group about the fire stared -at the erect young figure. Then Murray's father was the first across -the floor to meet him; and in an instant more the whole family was upon -him, while the Bells rose, smiling, to do him honour. - -"My dear boy!" There was a great gladness in Harrison Townsend's voice -and he wrung his son's hand as if he would wring it off. Murray's -mother, too--he had not known she was capable of so much tenderness, and -he kissed her with a feeling that in his thoughts he had n't done her -love for him justice. - -As for Olive and Shirley, there was nothing lacking in the way they -showed their joy in having him at home again. Murray himself, during -this long year of absence, was not the only one who had learned a few -enlightening truths about the great business of living. - -To the full, also, Murray enjoyed the surprising fact that the Bells -were grouped about the fire in a way which indicated that they were -entirely at home. He rejoiced in the heartiness with which the male -members of that family gripped his hand--they seemed like brothers. And -when the sweet-faced, bright-eyed lady in gray pressed his hand in both -her own and looked at him as if her pleasure in his return was very -great, Murray, quite unable to help it, stooped and kissed her also. -Surely, homecoming was a happier thing than he had dared to picture it. - -He was off upstairs to his room presently, while word was sent to an -exasperated cook to delay the dinner yet a little longer. In less time -than could have been expected, however, Murray was down again, and in -his evening clothes showed even more plainly than before the astonishing -increase in his weight. - -"These shoulders," cried Peter, inspecting them, "can they be the -shoulders of the delicate young gentleman who went away last year -looking so long and lean and lank? I wonder you could get them into -your coat." - -"I could n't," Murray answered, laughing. "I had to borrow father's -dinner-jacket and one of his waistcoats." - -"It was fortunate for you that the old coat was n't given away when the -new one came home," his father observed, regarding the shoulders in -evidence with great satisfaction. - -They went out to dinner in the gayest spirits, and if everybody -remembered with regret the one absent, everybody still rejoiced that -this promising son of the house was once more at its board. For there -could be no question that the eldest son looked now a fit representative -of the family of Townsend. - -The dinner which followed was an elaborate one, for it was not within -the range of the hostess's notions to entertain in any simple fashion, -even when the occasion was the birthday of a fourteen-year-old. But the -young people at the board succeeded in infusing so much of their own -joyousness into the affair that the time passed swiftly. There were -birthday gifts at Jane's plate as well as at Shirley's, and it would -have been hard to tell, at the close of the feast, which pair of cheeks -was the pinker, or which pair of eyes the brighter. It is safe to guess -however, that there were elements in the pleasure of one recipient which -must have been lacking in that of the other, and that the presence of -one birthday guest counted for more to her than all the gifts put -together. The fact that she could hardly look up without encountering -the interested glance of the newly arrived traveller was just a trifle -disconcerting, and it must be admitted that when Jane and Shirley -gathered up their gifts at the close of the dinner, the little girl knew -better than the older one just what she had received. - -Dinner over, a short and not especially dramatic little scene took place -behind closed library doors. Scenes which mean the most are often -quietest of all. - -"I just wanted to tell you, sir," said Murray to his father, "something -I thought you might like to know right away. I--went West to make -myself strong enough to--to go into the business, if you care to have -me. I mean," he went on quickly, as his father looked at him as if he -could not quite believe the purport of these words, "I mean in whatever -capacity you can use me. Shipping-clerk, if you think I 'd better begin -at the bottom"--and his smile was not a smile which supplied "but of -course you won't." - -Mr. Townsend stood looking at Murray, studying the straightforward gaze -which met his; noting the tints of health, the signs of vigour in the -fine face. "Murray, do you mean it?" he asked. - -"I do, sir." - -"And yet you don't like the prospect of a business life any more than -you ever did, do you?" - -"Not much, sir." - -"You make this offer knowing fully what it entails? I have little -expectation that your brother will ever agree to my wishes." - -"That's what decided me." - -"You are willing to give up your books? You could complete your college -course now, with your renewed health." - -If Murray winced at this he did not let it show. - -"I think you need me now, sir. And as for the college course--and the -books--I shall have my evenings." - -Mr. Townsend studied his son's face a full minute in silence. Then he -held out his hand. Murray seized it with a grasp which banished the -elder man's doubts and showed him that his boy's heart was in this offer -of himself. The two shook hands without speaking. There seemed no need -of further words just then. - -It being Shirley's birthday, that young person's wishes ruled the hour. -Prompted by Rufus, who thirsted for something lively, she decreed a game -of hide-and-seek over the whole house, and succeeded in enticing the -elder people into the frolic. Mr. Townsend and Murray, coming from the -library, found things in full swing. - -Mr. Bell was just emerging from a small closet under the staircase, his -hair much rumpled. Mrs. Bell, laughing blithely, had run round a corner -of the reception-room and touched "goal" before her son Rufus could -swing himself down the stairs and get in ahead of her. Mrs. -Townsend--and her husband could not quite credit his eyes as he saw -her--was, with trailing skirts held close, squeezing out of a very small -corner behind the grand piano in the drawing-room. - -"Well, well!" cried the newcomers, enthusiastically. "Let us into the -game." - -"Come on!" shouted Rufus. "Father 's 'it'! Let's play it in another -way, and hide for keeps. Everybody stay hid till found, and each man -found join the hunt. Makes it nice and exciting for the last fellow." - -"You 'll have to tell us our bounds pretty carefully," said Mr. Bell, -smiling at his hostess. "In our excitement we may open the wrong doors." - -"Open any door," responded Mrs. Townsend promptly, feeling more like a -girl again than she had felt in many years of formal entertaining, and -preparing, as she spoke, to hurry up the staircase to a retreat that she -felt would be secure. It proved great fun, and a full half-hour went by -before the last one was found. Murray had been the first to be -discovered, his head so full of the late talk in the library that he had -somewhat dazedly secreted himself in a position easily come upon by Mr. -Bell. So when the second round began, it was Murray who stood counting -the tale of numbers in the hall below, while his quarry scurried away -over the house. - -"He knows every nook and corner of it, of course," whispered Ross to -Jane, as they ran lightly up the second flight of stairs, "so we 'll -have to hide pretty close to escape him. I 'm for a closet I know of -where there's a pile of blankets as big as a barn. Will you come?" - -"No--I know a better place," and Jane slipped away by herself. She -meant to be the last found, and to elude Murray as long as she could, a -very girlish feeling having taken possession of her that the time to run -away is the time when you see somebody looking uncommonly as if he would -like to be with you. Although she longed to hear the outcome of the -conference in the library, she was somehow just a little afraid of the -new Murray, and it was with a delightful sense of exhilaration that she -made her quick and quiet way up a third flight of stairs to one of -Shirley's haunts in an unused portion of the regions under the eaves. - -It was a long time before she heard the sounds of the hunt, in which at -last the whole party had come to join, approaching her hiding place. But -suddenly a lower door was thrown open, and Murray's voice sounded far -down in a determined challenge: - -"We'll have you now, Jane--it's no use. Shirley 's kept us away so -far--the rascal--but your time 's up!" - -She _could not_ be caught! There was a tiny door low down in the side -of the closet where she was hiding, and dark though she knew it must be -in the unknown region beyond this door, she opened it, slipped through, -closed it, and crept along the bare beams beyond. - -Murray was carrying a little electric searchlight, which he was flashing -into every nook and crevice. Its sharp beam had penetrated the hole in -the blankets Ross had kept for a breathing space. It had likewise sought -out the hems of skirts, the soles of shoes, fingers clutching concealing -draperies, and elbows sticking unwarily out from sly nooks. Jane saw -its rays outline the edges of the small door beyond which she crouched; -then she heard Murray's triumphant cry, "O-ho, she's dropped her -handkerchief! Now we 're hot on the trail. She's gone through this -door, the crafty lady!" - -There was a shout of mingled laughter and expostulation. "She wouldn't -go through that rat-hole! It's too dark in there for a girl. There 's -no floor, either." - -But Murray was attempting to open the door. It was a sliding door, not a -hinged one, and for a moment it delayed him, for he was not familiar -with these regions, so dear to Shirley. - -During that moment, Jane, with the breathless unreadiness to be -discovered which takes hold of the hiding one, even in a game, had -desperately retreated over the rafters, in the hope of coming upon some -sheltering corner. The next instant, with a smothered cry, she had -fallen over the edge of something, _splash_ into three feet of water! - -Nobody had heard her, and somehow, in the intensity of the game, Jane's -second emotion, after the startling sensation of her sudden immersion, -was one of absurd relief at finding herself, after all, safe from -discovery. For, as the little door at last flew open, and Murray's -brilliant light leaped into the space under the eaves, it disclosed to -Jane that she had dropped into a cistern, the top of which lay level -with the floor beams, and at the bottom thereof, where, having scrambled -to her feet, she stood stooping, was out of sight of the faces peering -in at the small door. - -"Not here," was Murray's disappointed observation, after one wave of his -light round the small space, "unless she's in mother's special -rain-water tank, white frock and all. Come on. I thought we had her -then, sure. Where can she be? She's been here--witness that -handkerchief. And if there's a cranny we have n't explored, I 'll----" - -The little door closed with a slam; the light faded away from its edges. -The voices of the party were heard retreating down the stairs, and Jane -was left alone to realise the humour of the situation. - -It was undoubtedly humorous. It could hardly be dangerous, for October -had been a mild month, and Jane was well used to cold plunges. The -wetting of the pretty frock was of no consequence, for it was quite -washable. It was fairly easy to scramble back to the rafters--Jane had -done that the moment the searching party was out of hearing, and was -carefully wringing out her drenched skirts. Her impromptu bath had wet -her to the shoulders, besides bruising her arm rather badly. But the -trying thing was to get downstairs and away without being -discovered--and the whole company in full cry over the house! - -Jane laughed rather hysterically, shivering a little, more from -excitement and chagrin than from chill. She crept carefully to the -small door, meaning to push it open and listen, when suddenly it began -to slide quietly aside of itself. The next instant she saw a sunburned -hand upon its fastening, and heard a cool voice, close by, say quietly: - -"It's all right. Nobody knows but me. They 've given it up, and sat -down to await your own sweet will in showing up. Here 's a big steamer -rug. Will you have it to wrap up in? I 'll get you home without a soul -knowing, and we 'll play it off as a joke, somehow." - -"Thank you," answered Jane, in a very meek voice, which shook with -mingled irritation and merriment, as the rug came through the opening. -"Perhaps I could put it on better if I were not balancing myself on -these rafters." - -"I beg your pardon. I 'll get out of this closet, and you can get in. -I just thought you would n't leave so--so damp a trail behind you if you -were wrapped up in something. Here are a--er--a pair of Olive's rubbers -for your feet, so you won't show any tracks." - -Murray's voice was shaking also, and in a minute more the two were -laughing together. Jane, shrouded in her rug, emerged from the closet -into the attic, and Murray regarded her by the light of his electric -searcher. - -"You don't look much the worse for having taken such desperate measures -to escape me," he remarked, noting with keen enjoyment the rich colour -on the cheek near which he was rather mercilessly holding his torch. -"Rather meet a cold ducking than a warm friend any time, wouldn't you?" - -"Not at all. I--you know how one hates to be caught." - -"Does one? Now I can't conceive jumping into a tank of water to escape -you, if you had been after me!" - -"Please stop laughing at me and help me to get home." - -"I'm not laughing at you. I'm--I may pretend to be laughing, but -inside, I assure you, I 'm tremendously worried lest this running away -indicates a state of mind--" - -"Please take me home!" - -"Come, then." He led the way, by back staircases, to a quiet side -entrance, and so quickly across the street, and into her own house. -Then he went back to the others, to evade their questioning so cleverly -that nobody but Jane's mother suspected that anything out of the -ordinary had happened. In a very short time indeed Jane drifted -inconspicuously in upon the company again, and when inquiries from the -younger members of the party as to the change in her costume fell thick -and fast upon her, Murray protected her with the nonchalant explanation: - -"Don't bother her. She's very kindly trying to shield me for being the -cause of a little accident that happened to the other dress. It was -confoundedly awkward of me, but she cheers me by declaring that she can -easily repair damages!" - -It was Murray who took Jane home again by and by, and who lingered on -the porch, after the others had gone in, to tell her how his father had -received the good news. - -"I 'm so glad!" Jane's hands were clasped tight together. "I knew it -would be just as you tell me. Are n't you wonderfully happy?" - -"Wonderfully. Happier than ever in my life--except for just one thing." - -"Nothing serious?" - -"Well--I certainly hope not. What bothers me is that--you seem, -somehow--not exactly afraid of me, but--different. I don't know how to -express it--but I----" He stopped, his tone growing anxious. "You -know, I could n't bear that," he added. "Unless I thought it meant---- -See here, Jane--are we just as good friends as ever?" - -"Why, of course we are!" She said it shyly. She was very glad it was so -dark on the little porch. - -"Friends for always?" - -"I don't change, I think," she answered, with a proud little lift of the -head. - -"Don't you? Well, as I don't either, that ought to satisfy me. Yet it -does n't quite, after all. It's odd, but I believe just being good -friends who don't change is n't enough. Oh, don't go! You're not -angry? Yes, I know it's late, but I 've hardly seen you yet. You will -go?--But you 'll let me come over early to-morrow--after more than a -year away? Well, then, to-morrow I 'll have to teach you not to be -afraid of me. On my honour I 'm not carrying a 'gun!' Wait a -minute--just a minute! ... _How did I ever stay away from you so long?_ -... --Good night, little Jane--good night!" - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - IN THE GARDEN - - -Winter--long and cold; spring--late and slow; then, all at once, in -June, radiant summer and the little garden round the corner in Gay -Street was a place of richly bursting bloom--a riot of colours against -the leafy green background of its vine-hung walls. - -Toward the end of June a week of almost tropical heat had made the -evenings outdoors, on the little porch, and in the garden itself, events -to be looked forward to throughout the day, Joseph Bell, Peter, Ross, -and Rufus, thought of them many times during the hottest day of -all--midsummer, the twenty-first of the month--and came home at night to -find the table laid for a cool-looking supper out under the shadow of -the maple, and Mrs. Bell, Jane, and Nancy, in thin summer frocks, -putting the finishing touches to the attractive meal about to be served -there. - -Up in a window of the house next door, behind closed blinds, an elderly -neighbour had watched Jane wreathing a big glass bowl full of -strawberries with a crisp little green vine spray. - -"The Bells certainly are the queerest people anybody ever lived -neighbour to," she said over her shoulder to her sister, a withered -little spinster, who, in this hot, small upstairs room, was sewing at -another window, which did not look out upon the garden, and therefore -could have its blinds open. "Anybody 'd think life was just one picnic -to them. Think of lugging all those dishes outdoors this hot night, and -then lugging 'em all in again--and they all dressed out in flowered -muslins!" - -The sister came to the window and peered somewhat wistfully out through -the closed blinds. "It does look sort of pleasant out there," she said. -"And we certainly can't say they 're not good neighbours. Mrs. Bell -sent over a whole tin of those light rolls of hers this morning. They -'ll come in handy for supper." - -"There come the men." Mrs. Hunter brought her gaze to bear upon the -four who had stolen up to the gate, and who, as she spoke, burst out -suddenly with a crisp clapping of hands which brought the three in the -"flowered-muslins" to the right-about. If Mrs. Hunter and Miss Maria, -watching those four advance, could have heard what they were saying as -they caught sight of the flower-decked table, they might have had a new -light shed upon the question whether the trouble of bringing forth all -those dishes from the house had been worth while. - -The neighbours saw the merry little meal eaten, and saw all hands clear -it away at the end, making short work of the many dishes. But afterward -twilight fell, and little could be discerned except the gleam of the -light dresses and the presence near of dark forms lying on the grass. - -It was after the midsummer moon was lighting the garden into a small -fairy-land that Peter, springing up, exclaimed, "There's Olive and -Murray!" and ran to greet them. - -There was a third person with them, and a moment later the others heard -Peter exclaim, in a tone of surprise: - -"Well, well, well! You don't mean to say this is----Why, how are you? -How are you? I 'm tremendously glad to see you!" - -"Thank you! I 'm a good deal gladder to be home than anybody possibly -can be to have me." And Jane, recognising first the peculiar quality of -the voice, cried out: - -"Why, it's Forrest!" and led the others, as a general uprising took -place. - -"Yes, it's Forrest," said the voice, and in the bright moonlight Jane -looked up into the face whose outlines in these two years of absence had -grown dim in her memory. It was the same face, but she thought it -looked older and thinner, and she realised then and there that Forrest -was not the same careless boy who had gone so lightly away to lead a -soldier's life. - -When the greetings were over and the company had settled down again on -the turf under the maple, Jane found Forrest next to herself, and had -her first little insight into his thoughts. - -"I feel like a stranger from a foreign country, I assure you," he was -saying to her, presently, as the talk and laughter of the others made a -bit of confidence possible. "And the strangest thing of all to me is -the sight of my brother grinding away down there in the office, looking -like the healthiest fellow in town. I can't understand it; it took me -off my feet!" - -"We have grown so used to the change," said Jane, smiling to herself, in -the dim light, "that we don't think about it any more." - -"You see," Forrest pursued, "I came home on the quiet--just wanting to -see, you know, how they would take it. I thought if they really still -cared, I should know it by the look on their faces----" - -"Oh, how could you think----" Jane began, eagerly. - -But he interrupted. "A fellow thinks a good many things when he 's on -the other side of the world, and I--well, I got to wanting to know some -things so badly, I was n't sorry when I had my fever. Yes--you did n't -know that, did you? Oh, I had it all right! And I wasn't sorry when -they sent me home with a lot of other convalescents. So I made for the -office the minute I had seen my mother and the girls, for they told me -that Murray was down there for good--a thing I had n't known. Maybe -they thought I 'd be jealous--and maybe I was--in a way, though I don't -want the job any more than I ever did. - -"Father gave me a good warm greeting--I 'll say that. And Murray--well, -when he got up and came toward me with his hand out, looking like the -strongest kind of a young business man, I felt as if--But I can't tell -you about that now." - -There was a general movement of the younger people of the party, in -response to a request from Ross, who was entertaining them with some new -tricks, at which he was an adept. During the confusion Murray came and -flung himself upon the grass beside Jane. - -"Take me into the conference, will you?" he said. "I'm envious of -anybody my brother talks to, I 'm so glad to get him back." - -Under cover of the subdued light, Jane found her hand, which had been -resting on the cool grass where she sat, taken into a warm, significant -grasp, as familiar now as it was dear. She gave back a little answering -pressure, without turning her head toward Murray, at whose close -presence she had grown instantly happier. - -"Take you in?" Forrest answered slowly. "Well, if you--and all the -others--will only take me in, and never turn me out--or let me turn -myself out again--I 'll be--satisfied." - -With one hand holding tight the small one buried in the grass, Murray's -other hand went out toward the fist clenched on Forrest's knee. "Old -fellow," he said, warmly, "if you 'll just stay where you can get over -often into this garden in Gay Street, you 'll find it will do as much -toward making life worth living as it has done for every other one of -the Townsend family." - -"I believe you," answered Forrest, and gave the brotherly hand an -answering grip. - - - - - BOOK II - WORTHINGTON SQUARE - - - - CHAPTER I - - JANE WEARS PEARLS - - -A tap upon her door sent Mrs. Murray Townsend flying across the room to -answer it. She expected to find her husband there, awaiting her -permission to come in and see her in the cloud-like white gown which she -had worn but once before--two months ago. He had vowed since that he -had never seen that wedding-gown, being occupied wholly upon the -occasion on which it was worn in keeping his head, in order to play his -own part with dignity and self-command. - -But to Jane's disappointment, she opened the door only to a maid with a -florist's box. The box, upon being examined, yielded up among a mass of -roses Murray's card, which bore this message: - - -Sorry to be delayed, dear, but father wanted to go over everything that -has happened at the office during my absence. Will be up in time for the -pow-wow. Wear one of these for - -MURRAY. - - -Jane smiled regretfully. It had seemed a long day. Only that morning -she and Murray had returned, belated, from their wedding journey across -the continent, to find cards out for a reception in their honour to take -place that very evening. - -"You knew the date," Mrs. Harrison Townsend had said to her elder son, -when, upon being told that his delay had caused much anxiety to the -givers of the affair, he turned to his bride with a soft whistle of -recollection and chagrin. - -"I certainly did," he had owned. "I forgot, I 'm afraid, that there -were such things as after-wedding festivities due to society, and that -this was the date for the first of the series. I don't think Jane even -knew." - -"I didn't," said Jane, looking regretfully at her mother-in-law's -handsome face, which betrayed a slight annoyance. It certainly had been -trying to receive daily telegrams from the travellers throughout the -past week, announcing delays at this place and that on the homeward way. - -"Of course it's of no consequence now that you are safely here. I 'm -only sorry Jane will have no chance to rest and visit. The florist's -men will arrive within an hour, and the house will be generally upset." - -"I 'll run away over to Gay Street, then," said Jane. "Murray 's going -down to the office, and mother and Nan will be looking for me." - -"My dear, I 'm sorry, but Olive has asked a few friends informally for -luncheon, people from out of town who are coming for to-night. It would -hardly do for you not to meet them--since two are cousins." - -So Jane had had to be content with one brief hour in the little home -round the corner in Gay Street, and then she had come back to the big -house in Worthington Square, there to begin to act the part expected of -her. Murray had been more than sorry to leave her on this first day, -but his father's affairs were pressing, the office work had suffered in -his absence, and he felt it a necessity to get back into the harness -without an hour's delay. He had expected to be early at home, but his -message showed Jane that even for her he did not mean to cut short the -work of taking up again the routine of business at the point where he -had left it two months ago. - -Selecting half a dozen of the finest of her roses, Jane, with a long, -light coat slipped on over her finery, opened the door and peeped -cautiously out into the large, square gallery of the upper hall. Nobody -was in sight. The doors of Mrs. Townsend's and Olive's rooms were -closed, the ladies dressing for the affair of the evening. The door of a -guest-room, occupied by the two cousins from out of town, was slightly -ajar, and a maid was to be seen inside, offering a cup of tea on a tray. -One of the cousins had a headache, and was fortifying herself for a -fatiguing evening. - -Jane slipped quietly by this door and round the gallery to the point -where a staircase led to the lower landing, a place just now embowered -in palms, which were to serve as a screen for the string orchestra. She -paused an instant on this landing, to look down upon the brilliant -picture presented by the entrance-hall and its opening rooms below. The -look of it reminded her of an evening long ago, the first upon which she -had set foot as a guest in the great unknown house in Worthington -Square, when Murray had taken charge of her and brought her up here on -the landing, to look down upon the scene in which neither of them had -much cared to take part. - -"Can this really be my home?" thought Jane, feeling as if it could not -all be true, even yet. She ran quickly on downstairs and round the foot -of the staircase to a door beneath, which furnished an inconspicuous -exit from the big hall, and which opened upon a short passage and a side -entrance not much used by the family. This had long been a favourite -entrance for Murray himself, for it shortened the way to Gay Street. - -A very short cut Jane made of it, for a flood of light from the long row -of windows in the dining-room fell across the path, and turned it into -one less obscure than she wished it to be just now. Holding her -delicate skirts well away from the dust of the road, she hurried across, -through the warm air of the May evening. - -There was nobody to be seen downstairs in the old house, although lamps -were lighted and the small rooms wore their usual air of home-likeness -and order. Jane ran up the steep little staircase which led to the -sleeping-rooms above. She understood that, as at the big house, the -family were engaged in arraying themselves for the Townsend reception. -She paused at the top of the stairs to listen and observe, for the -various doors were all more or less ajar, and the usual atmosphere of -friendly family comradeship gave her a little pang of homesickness. - -The first thing distinguishable was the fact that Peter seemed to be -having a bad time with his neck-gear, and that his cousin, Ross -McAndrew, was enjoying his perturbation of mind. - -"Either my neck is bigger than it was, or this neckband has shrunk." -Peter's growl rolled out into the tiny hall, and brought a dimple into -Jane's cheek as she listened. - -"Probably both catastrophes have happened." This was Ross's voice in -reply. "Anybody who has seen you stow away buckwheat cakes and -maple-syrup all winter could n't be surprised if your neck should take a -seventeen collar this spring." - -"Seventeen nothing! Sixteen's my size, and when I wear a bigger it 'll -be because---- O jiminy, I 've burst that buttonhole! What on earth am -I to do now? I don't own but one dress shirt that 'll fit the barn-door -opening in my white waistcoat." - -"Your mother 'll sew that up on your back. I 'll do it myself if you -won't howl at a prick or two." - -"Much obliged, but I know the general style of your repairs in a case -like this. Nan 'll do it, if she's dressed," and Peter's door swung -open. Intent on reaching his younger sister, whose door was next beyond -his own, he did not observe the figure at the head of the stairs in the -shadow. He proceeded to perform a double tattoo upon Nancy's door. - -"What's the matter, Petey?" sounded an amiable voice from within. - -"Neckband of my shirt's a wreck. Want you to come and splice the main -brace." - -"All right--if you 'll button me up the back. I can't reach below the -fourth button, and mother's busy dressing, too. It's so inconvenient -having Janey married." - -"Give and take's fair play," agreed Peter, as a charming young figure in -pink-flowered muslin backed out of the door, both bare arms strenuously -demonstrating that they could not reach below the fourth button. "Stand -still now--no fidgeting. What on earth a girl wants her rigging -fastened behind for is beyond me! If it must be, why not use buttons -big enough to get hold of?" - -"Look out, don't treat my buttonholes as you did your own, or I 'll have -to be sewed up, too." - -"All right--you're done. Turn round and let's see how you look in -front. Good work! You 're a stunner, and tremendously grown up, too, -with your hair that way. Put it up the day you were eighteen, did n't -you?" - -"Of course," admitted Nancy, with her comely head held high. Then, as -Jane's white skirts in the shadow caught her eye, "Why, there 's Janey! -You dear! Oh, how good it looks to see you standing there!" - -At the cry three doors flew wide open, and Mr. Bell, Ross, and Rufus -appeared simultaneously upon their respective thresholds, while a voice -from within called, "Is Jane there? Come here, dear!" - -"O mother, let me do your hair, will you?" offered Jane, eagerly, when -she had succeeded in making her way past the embraces of her delighted -family. - -"Not in that dress, child! Mercy, remember it's your wedding-gown, and -don't whisk round so! Sit down there and let me look at you while I put -my hair up; it won't take but a minute, and then you shall help me into -my dress." - -"If you won't let me do your hair, I 'll go sew up Pete's buttonhole. I -must do something for somebody. It seems so funny to have got dressed -over in the big house. I just had to come over here and see the rest of -you getting ready and consulting each other on details as usual. Where's -your work-basket, mother dear? Nan," running to the door--"don't you -_dare_ to mend Peter's shirt! I want to do it myself." - -"All right, Mrs. Townsend, nothing will suit me better," declared Peter, -with satisfaction, kneeling in front of his sister with his back to her, -while she sat on the edge of his splint-bottomed armchair and threaded -her needle. "What does Murray think, by the way, of having his bride -rush over here to assist her family, and leave him to shift for himself? -Why are n't you putting in his studs and things, like a dutiful wife?" - -"He could n't get home from the office till the last minute. -Mr.--Father Townsend wanted to consult him on so much that's happened -while we 've been gone. Of course I 'm going back before he comes," -responded Jane. "Dear me--wreck is certainly the word for this -buttonhole. Did you try to put your thumb through it?" - -"Tried to climb through it myself bodily at the last. Anything better -calculated to put a fellow into a lovely frame of mind for an affair -where's he's expected to make himself agreeable I don't know. Wrestling -to get an iron collar on a steel neckband is--well--it's a trifle -upsetting to the nerves. Be sure you get that buttonhole the right -size. Better try the collar-button in it before you make fast." - -"When you 're done with him you can tie my tie for me, if you 're -looking for work," announced Rufus, appearing in the doorway. "I can't -seem to get the right curve on the thing." - -"Janey, would you wear this bracelet Shirley gave me last Christmas, or -would n't you?" Nancy looked in over Rufus's shoulder. At eighteen she -was tall for her years; at twenty-one Rufus, although sturdily built, -had no advantage of her in inches. It was Peter, with his six feet of -brawn, who was the family pride in the matter of size. - -Jane snipped off her thread and turned to look at her younger sister. -"Do as you like, Nan, of course," said she, "but--if you want to look -quite perfect in my eyes you 'll leave it off." - -"Good for you!" Peter observed Nancy's simple frock and fair neck with -approval. "Lots of time for the gewgaws when they 're needed to cover -up the hollows." - -"Now I 'll go help mother," said Jane, having adjusted Rufus's cravat to -his satisfaction, mended a tiny rip in Ross's glove, and given her -father a hug, since his dressing was completed, and there seemed to be -nothing else she could do for him. He had held her fast, regardless of -her bridal attire, for he had missed her sorely during her two months' -absence, and the thought that, however often she might seek it, his roof -was no longer hers, was one not easily assimilated. - -"I should really not have felt properly dressed," averred Mrs. Bell, as -Jane hovered about her, performing all sorts of small offices, "if you -had not been here to assure me that I was quite right in all points." - -As Jane smiled, first at her mother, then at her father, wondering how -she had ever been able, even for Murray's sake, to leave two people so -dear, a low call, apparently proceeding from downstairs, reached her -ear, and she turned quickly to listen. - -"Jane?" came the voice again, interrogatively. "Gentle Jane, you 're not -lost to me for good and all?" - -Jane ran to the head of the small stairway and looked down. In the -light from a bracket lamp at the foot, her husband's face smiled up at -her. A bright, strong face it was, ruddy with health, and alert with -interest in that which he beheld at the top of the stairs. Murray was -in evening dress, and as Jane observed the fact she cried softly and -regretfully: - -"Why, it must be later than I thought! I did n't mean to be away when -you came--I 'm so sorry! It doesn't seem as if I 'd been here five -minutes." - -"No excuses necessary, dear," he answered. "When I sent you word, I did -n't expect to be able to get away till the last minute, but a telegram -from a man who had an appointment with father let us out, and I followed -my message home. I came after you because mother is getting a bit -uneasy. She wants to be sure the bride is at her elbow, ready for the -fray, though not a soul will show up, of course, till long after the -hour on the cards." - -"I 'll come this minute," and Jane caught up her long coat, threw a kiss -at her family, and hurried down. "You 'll all come right away, won't -you?" she called back, and let Murray walk off with her. - -At the curb she paused. "I meant to have borrowed Nan's rubbers," she -said, looking down at her white-shod feet. "I forgot when I came over." - -"That's easy," and Murray had her across the street before she could -protest that she was too heavy for him. - -"You could n't have done that when I first knew you, could you?" laughed -Jane, with pride in his strength of arm. - -"Not much. What a slim and sickly whiffet I was! I wonder you ever -looked twice at me, with Pete at hand as a contrast." - -"I liked muscle, but I like brains too," explained Jane, as if this were -the first time the matter had been made clear. - -"Thank you. I 'm afraid I had none too many of those, either. The -house looks festive, does n't it? Have you seen the dining-room? Mother -seemed to be particularly pleased with the decorations there." - -"I 'm afraid I ran away in too much of a hurry to notice." - -Murray gave his young wife an amused look as they stood together on the -steps of the small side entrance by which Jane had come out an hour -before. - -"Do you know where you are to stand in the receiving line?" he inquired. - -Jane shook her head. - -"Do you know whether you are to shake hands with the guests or merely -bow?" - -"No. You 'll tell me, won't you?" - -"Do you know whether I 'm to present people you don't know to you, or -whether you 're to depend on mother for that?" - -"I suppose I'll find that out when the time comes." - -"Do you know whether you ought to look beamingly happy or coolly -composed?" - -"Which do you prefer?" - -Murray laughed. "A judicious mixture of both, I should say. Well, my -small bride, ignorant as you profess to be of your part, I 'm not -worried about you. Just the same, I expect we 'd better hunt up mother -and be coached as to the precise line of conduct she expects of us. I -'ve never played the leading man's part in a bridal 'At Home' myself, -and mother's something of a stickler for doing things according to the -latest revision of the code. Well, well," he added in surprise, -glancing at his watch as they entered the hall, "it's later than I -thought. Do you need to go upstairs?" - -"Just a minute--to smooth my unruly hair," and Jane ran away, leaving -him gazing after her. - -"Murray!" His mother came toward him from the library, a striking, even -imposing, figure in black and white lace and amethysts. "Between you -and Jane, I was getting anxious. I have n't seen the child since I went -to her room, at least two hours ago." - -"She is all ready--dressed early so she might run home, since I sent her -word I should be late." - -"But where is she now?" - -"Ran upstairs to see if her hair was right. Is n't that the invariable -custom at the last minute?" - -"She is wearing her wedding-gown, of course?" - -"She surely is." - -"No ornaments?" - -"I sent her some roses. She 'll carry them, or wear one, or something, -I suppose." - -"But no jewels?" - -"I think she 's wearing the pearl pin I gave her." - -"Murray! You are quite as bad as Jane! To be sure, her girlish way of -dressing has been very pretty and appropriate in view of her father's -lack of means. But her position now, as your wife, is different. Olive -insists that Jane does not care for ornaments of any sort, but I am sure -she would not object, Murray, to wearing that beautiful pearl necklace -of Grandmother Townsend's--if you explain to her that it's an heirloom -and that it will give me great pleasure to have her wear it? Pearls are -not becoming to Olive," added Mrs. Townsend, and her son smiled. - -"If you want Jane to wear that, mother, you will have to ask her -yourself. She 's coming now, I think. Yes"--as Jane looked over the -gallery rail and nodded down at him--"here she is. Do you really think -she needs 'ornaments'? They strike me as superfluous." - -Mother and son were watching Jane as she came down the staircase, her -white figure outlined against the dark green of the palms and foliage. -Her bronze-tinted hair shone like a crown under the radiance of the -lights, and her softly blooming face made one forget the simplicity of -her attire. At least, it made Murray forget it. But Mrs. Harrison -Townsend saw in the white neck and arms a background for her pearls. -She picked up a case from the table where she had laid it. - -"My dear," she said, "you are very sweet, and I shall be very proud to -present you as my daughter. And you won't mind wearing, to please me, -these pearls of Murray's great-grandmother's, will you? They are just -what you need to set off your colouring." - -Jane's face grew warm as her eyes fell upon the pearls, lying in a worn -old case lined with faded green velvet. She looked from them to -Murray--an appealing little glance and a questioning one. He nodded -ever so slightly in return, smiling at her. - -"You are very kind," said Jane, simply, to her mother-in-law. "I will -wear them--if you wish." - -She let Mrs. Townsend clasp the necklace, received that lady's kiss and -approving comment on the difference it made in her appearance, and -allowed herself to be led to a mirror to see the effect. As she stood -before it, her lashes falling after one glance of a pair of unwilling -eyes, somebody called Murray's mother away. Jane looked at her husband -again. - -"Yes, I know you hate it, little modesty," said he. "And I own I like -to see you without any jewels. Yet there can be no doubt you become -those pearls. You set them off, not they you. And seeing they 're not -diamonds----" - -Jane's eyes flashed. "Not even for you----" - -His eyes responded with an answering brilliance, as he shook his head, -laughing. "Not even for me! Are you sure? But you need n't fear. -Diamonds, little Jane Townsend, were not made for you. Let those -sparkle who want to. I prefer a steady glow!" - -An hour later Ross McAndrew and Peter Bell, making their entrance to the -long drawing-room together, and waiting their turn to advance toward the -receiving party, exchanged a series of low-voiced comments, under cover -of the general hum of talk. - -"My word, Pete! Can that be our small girl, standing up there like a -young queen? Watch her! I say, watch her!" - -"I am watching her," said Peter, with great satisfaction. "If you see -my eyes drop out, pick 'em up, will you?" - -"Not that we might n't have expected it of her. I knew well enough she -'d be sweet and charming--but that little gracious manner--that -self-possession--jolly, she's great!" - -"Look at Murray! Is he proud of her, or is n't he?" - -"Proud as Lucifer. And has a right to be. His mother looks pretty -complacent herself. And Olive--she's stunning, as usual. But our -Jane--" - -The time to go forward had arrived. With head up and shoulders squared -Peter led the way. As he passed his host and hostess he was a model of -well-trained propriety, but when he reached Jane and Murray his formal -manner relaxed, and he grasped each hand with a hearty grip. - -"You're a delightful pair," he murmured, "and the sight of you takes me -off my feet." - -"You look perfectly composed, even bored," retorted Murray, laughing, -glad to greet a brother who could be relied upon not to say the usual -thing. - -But Jane whispered as she smiled up at him, "I 'm dreadfully frightened, -Petey, and I can't do it well at all." - -"Keep on being frightened, then," advised her brother. "The result's -perfectly satisfactory, is n't it, Murray?" - -"You're not really frightened?" whispered her husband, taking advantage -of a slight lull in his duties to detain Peter. "She does n't look it, -does she?" - -"Not a bit." - -"You 've only to look at mother," was Murray's comforting assurance, "to -know that she's entirely satisfied. If she were not--well--she'd look -different, that 's all!" - - - - - CHAPTER II - - SHIRLEY HAS GROWN UP - - -As Peter Bell abruptly rounded the corner from Gay Street into -Worthington Square he saw coming toward him an attractive young figure -in a white frock. He glanced at it and away again; then back, as he -came nearer; once more away; then returned to look steadily, positive -that his second impression had been the right one, after all. It must -be that he knew this girl. If he did, he must give her a chance to -recognise him. - -She not only recognised him, she smiled outright, and stopping short -held out her hand. The eyes which were laughing at him were eyes he had -surely seen before. - -Peter's hat had come off promptly; when she stopped, he stopped. When -she held out her hand he took it, and stood staring down into the merry -eyes with puzzled interest. - -"O Mr. Peter Bell!" she jeered softly. "To be so slow to recognise an -old friend--a connection of your own family. Dear, dear, you should go -to an oculist! Has it been coming on long? Can you still distinguish -trees and houses?" - -The voice told him who its owner was, though it was a degree richer in -quality than when he had heard it last, two years before. "Shirley -Townsend!" he cried. "Miss Shirley, I mean, of course. Well, well! No -wonder I---- When did you come? And you've grown up!" - -"Of course I have. Has n't Nancy grown up? I 'm a year older than she, -too. And I came last night--a whole month before they expected me. I -was supposed to be going to stop in New York with Aunt Isabel for a -month--after two long years away off in England at school! But Marian -Hille's mother met her at the ship--she 's the girl who went with me, -you know--and they came right along home. I could n't stand it to stop -in New York, and I came with them. And you don't mean 'Miss Shirley' at -all, of course--with Jane married to Murray!" - -"Then you don't mean 'Mr. Peter Bell.'" - -"You look terribly elderly yourself. But I knew you! The mere fact -that you are not wearing the same clothes you were when I went away----" - -"It was n't your clothes--except the extension on the length of them. -It was--it was----" - -"I understand. My hair is up. I no longer wear two big black bows -behind my ears." - -"Your cheeks," protested Peter. "You--the English air, I suppose----" - -"No, I 'm not a pale little, frail little girl any more, thanks to miles -and miles of walking. You don't look very frail, either. Are n't we -delightfully frank--after staring each other out of countenance? Is -Nancy at home, and Mrs. Bell?" - -"They 'll be delighted to see you." - -"They 'll _know_ me, too," laughed Shirley. - -"She certainly has grown up," thought Peter, when Shirley had walked -away from him toward Gay Street. He rather wished he had not been so -obviously rushing away from home when he met this new-old acquaintance. -The little Shirley had always been a good friend of his; the older -Shirley looked distinctly better worth knowing. But Peter's days were -busy ones; he had few moments for lingering by the side of pretty girls; -nor was he wont to spend much time lamenting his deprivations. - -Shirley Townsend's appearance at the door of the Bell house caused a -flurry of welcoming. Nancy, after two minutes of shyness at the sight of -her former chum looking so like and so unlike herself, discovered that -the unlikeness was going to make no difference. It was a great relief, -for somebody who had seen Marian Hille at the end of one year at the -English school had declared her grown insufferably consequential, and -had prophesied that Shirley Townsend would come home "spoiled." - -But almost the first remark Shirley made was, "Isn't Jane the dearest -thing you ever saw? And are n't we just the luckiest people to get her -into the family?" So then Nancy knew it was precisely the same Shirley, -and was glad. - -"I don't suppose she's really as good-looking as Olive," commented -Rufus, when he, too, had seen his old-time partner at tennis, and had -had a game with her, "but she 's a lot more alive, and jollier, ten -times over. And her playing form 's improved; she can serve a ball that -keeps you up and doing for fair. She knows cricket too; she 's going to -teach us. I 'm glad she 's got home. It 'll be a good deal pleasanter -for Jane over there. Shirley won't go in for society, like Olive and -Mrs. Harrison." - -Rufus's prophecy proved a true one. Upon the second day after Shirley's -return, Mrs. Townsend, Senior, announced--with some languor, as if she -herself found summer affairs wearisomer after a winter which had been -unusually full--that a garden-party and _musicale_ would that afternoon -claim all four feminine members of the household. "Our men ought to go, -too," she added, "but your father simply will go to nothing that takes -him away from his business, and Murray seems to be lapsing into the same -attitude. Forrest, when he is at home, is my only standby, but this -freak of his to spend his time travelling makes him seldom to be counted -on. Shirley, I hope you have something suitable to wear. It was a -strange idea for you to come home, after being two years within an hour -of London, with nothing but tennis suits and cricketing shoes. If you -had stopped in New York, as I expected, your Aunt Isabel would have -remedied all deficiencies in your wardrobe. But as it is----" - -"As it is, I 've nothing suitable, mother mine. So you won't ask me to -go, will you?" - -"You must have something that will do. The Hildreths will expect you, -now that every one knows you are at home. Marian Hille will be sure to -be there, and you ought to be, quite as much." - -"I 've had two years of Marie Anne--as she wishes to be called now. I -can do without her very comfortably for a day or two," objected Shirley, -smiling at Jane. - -Jane was indeed rejoicing in her new young sister's return. The -relations between herself and Olive, although cordial and affectionate, -were not based on so strong a congeniality of tastes as existed between -Jane and Shirley. The girl, before she went away, had shown decided -promise of originality and force of character. Looking at her now, as -she stood before them in short tennis dress and fly-away hat, with -vivacious, wide-awake face full of clear colour, it needed small -discernment to make sure of the fact that here was a girl out of the -common, and quite irresistibly out of the common, too. - -"I don't like to insist, Shirley, and I would not, if you were showing -the slightest fatigue after your journey. But since all the apology I -could make for you would be that you preferred to play tennis in the sun -with Nancy Bell----" - -"I see. It's evident I must face the music--Miss Antoinette Southwode's -searching soprano, and Mr. Clifford Burnham-Brisbane's wabbly tenor--and -tea and little cakes. Since it's my duty I 'll do it. But, mother -dear, please don't make many engagements for me. Give it out that I 'm -eccentric--that Miss Cockburn told me positively, before I came away -from Helmswood, that after a severe course of study under her -unexceptionable tutelage I must have absolute relaxation. Say that I -have no fine clothes, no floppy hats covered with roses, suitable for -lawn-parties. Say anything, but after to-day don't make me go--unless I -most awfully want to. Promise--_please_!" - -Two firm tanned hands clasped themselves behind Mrs. Townsend's neck, -two importunate black-lashed blue eyes looked at her beseechingly. The -mother sighed. - -"Child, what shall I do, with two of you? Here is Jane, accepting her -invitations under protest, and now you are going to be still more -unreasonable." - -"Is Jane another? Then why not just make a simple division of labour? -You and Olive play the society parts, and give Jane and me the domestic -ones." - -"My dear, nothing can be so unfortunate for a girl, or for a young -married woman, as to become known as peculiar. Of course you are not -serious--no girl of your age is ever serious in declaring that she wants -nothing to do with society--but it distresses me to have you even talk -as you are doing. Go and dress, and look your best, dear, and don't -worry me with this sort of thing. I am quite worn out already. Doctor -Warrener advises a course of baths at a rest-cure, and I think I shall -have to follow his advice." - -"I'm sorry," and Shirley kissed her mother, with a pat upon the smooth -white cheek, where faint lines were beginning to show. Then she went -away to dress, discarding the short skirt and canvas shoes with a -smothered breath of regret, but appearing, in due course of time, in a -costume eminently suitable for a garden-party, at least from her own -point of view. Her mother did not see her until the carriage was at the -door, and then it was too late for her to do more than to murmur: - -"My dear, if that is the best you can do, I must take you to a -dressmaker at once. White linen is well enough for some occasions, and -that hat----Did you tell me that Miss Cockburn advised it, and you got -it in Bond Street? But the effect is decidedly more girlish than is -necessary." - -"I should think you would want me as infantile as possible, with Olive -to do the dressy young lady. You and Jane and Olive, with your - - 'Ribbons and laces, - And sweet, pretty faces,' - -need a plain little schoolgirl to set you off. And I shall not be 'out' -until next winter. I 'm all right, mother dear. Miss Cockburn was -always delighted with white linen, and discouraged fussy frocks. I 'm -really beautifully 'English,' and you should be satisfied. Girls are -n't allowed to grow up half so fast over there as here, and I think it -is a sensible thing." - -Mrs. Townsend said no more until, crossing the Hildreth lawn an hour -later, she caught sight of Marian Hille. At the first opportunity -thereafter, she said in Shirley's ear, "Miss Cockburn certainly did not -advise Marian to cling to the schoolgirl style of dressing. If that is -not a French frock she is wearing, my eyes deceive me. She is charming -in it, too, and not at all overdressed. That rose-covered hat is -exquisite, and quite girlish enough." - -Shirley smiled, a protesting little smile, but she did not argue the -question further. To her mind, "Marie Anne" looked like a Parisian -fashion-plate, and her manner was certainly that of a young person of -considerable social experience. Shirley did not like it. Her eye went -from Miss Marian Hille to Mrs. Murray Townsend, and rejoiced at the -contrast. The two were close together, taking their seats for the -outdoor _musicale_, which was about to begin. No fault could possibly be -found with Jane's attire, but in it she looked, beside Marian, like a -dainty gray pigeon beside a golden pheasant. - -"I beg your pardon, but may I ask what you are staring at so intently?" -said a voice beside her, and Shirley turned to confront the interested -gaze of Brant Hille, Marian's elder brother. "I 've been standing beside -you here all of three minutes, waiting for you to come back to earth and -recognise me. Do you realise we have n't met since you and Marian came -back? And won't you let me find you a chair over on the edge of the -crowd, where we can talk?" - -This suited Shirley, and she let him establish her in a corner where a -clump of shrubbery screened the two from a part of the audience. Until -the music began, young Hille plied her with questions about her -experiences at Miss Cockburn's school, evidently enjoying the fact that -her point of view seemed decidedly to differ from that of his sister. - -"I should n't know you had been at the same place," was his whispered -comment, as the first notes of the initial number on the programme smote -the summer air and caused a partial hush to fall upon the assemblage. -He had been noting, with interest, the change in her. He had known -Shirley since their earliest days, but beyond the friendly liking she -had always inspired in him, as in everybody, by her girlish good humour -and love of sport, he had not thought her especially attractive. Now, -however, as Peter Bell had done, he found himself discovering in her -qualities distinctly noteworthy. - -"So they took you to a lot of old churches and cathedrals," he began -suddenly to Shirley, after an interval during which they had listened -politely to Miss Antoinette Southwode's truly "searching" soprano and -Mr. Burnham-Brisbane's astonishingly "wabbly" tenor, intermingled in an -elaborate Italian duet. "Did n't you find that sort of thing deadly -dull?" - -"Not a bit," denied Shirley, promptly. "It was such fun to hear the -dear old vergers proudly recite the histories of the antiquities. And -the antiquities themselves! In one very, very old church there was a -tablet of a man and his six wives, all kneeling before a shrine. He -knelt first and they came after, all in profile. The poor dears were -all dressed alike--they must have worn the same dress, handed down. -One's head was gone--that made her more touching than the others. You -could n't help feeling that her husband had been harder on her than on -the rest. He looked that sort, you see." - -"No doubt he was," agreed Hille, laughing. "Did you see anything else -equal to that?" - -"No end of things. Of course there was ever so much that was dignified -and beautiful, but one could n't help being glad to find something funny -now and then. One tablet in another ancient chapel showed three men, -one above another on their painted wooden tombs, all lying sidewise and -half rising on their elbows, and staring right down at you with their -eyes wide open. They had pink cheeks and black hair. They were father, -son, and grandson, and the father looked the youngest. Their wives were -all lying quietly asleep at one side. It did n't seem fair for the men -to be so wide awake, while the poor wives had to slumber and see -nothing.--Oh, there goes Mr. Brisbane again! Why _does_ his voice shake -so much harder than when I heard him last?" - -"He 's that much more celebrated," said Hille. "See here, are n't you -and Marian about the same age." - -Shirley shook her head. But when the song was over he asked the -question again. - -"I 'm three months older," admitted Shirley. - -"She looks three years older. Why is it?" - -Shirley shook her head again. It was one thing to air her views to her -family, quite another to tell Brant that Marian was leaping into young -ladyhood and its signs too fast. But Brant studied his sister. Her -blond head, the hair elaborately waved, could be seen between the heads -and shoulders in front, the striking rose-crowned hat conspicuous among -other elaborate hats of all patterns. - -"She looks twenty-five, at least," he commented, approvingly. "She -looks older than your sister Olive. And she seems to have that cad -Maltbie glued to her for the afternoon. If that 's the best she can do, -she 'd better take me. But she 's no use for brothers. Look here, when -'s Forrest coming home?" - -"I 've no idea. He was leaving Ecuador before the hot season began, and -was intending to stay at Jamaica as long as it was comfortable. He -wrote he might be off for the South Sea Islands soon. He 's had a -tempting invitation." - -"He 's a rover. His taste of army life gave him the fever. I wish he -'d get enough of it and come back. Things always 'go' while Forrest's -home." - -Altogether, between Brant Hille and two or three other young people, -Shirley found the garden-party endurable. But its cakes and ices -spoiled her appetite for dinner, and the moment that meal was over, she -was off to the tennis-court. Here she and Rufus played several sets in -so spirited a fashion that Murray and Jane, strolling over the lawn to -watch them, were moved to comment upon Shirley's vigour. - -"I 'm just working off the garden-party," declared the girl, when her -brother asked the cause of so much energy upon so warm an evening. - -"You should have put on your tennis skirt, dear," said Jane, as Shirley -came up to her, racquet in hand. - -"So I ought, but I was afraid mother would be made ill by the sight of -me, if I did, after dinner. Oh, how good it is to be at home! Let's -camp down here on the grass and send for the rest of the clan. Run -over, Rufie, will you, and get all the Bells that will come?" - -As she spoke, Shirley dropped upon the smooth turf close by the big -wicker chair that Murray had just drawn up for Jane, on the terrace at -the edge of the court. Her cheeks were flushed by the lively exercise -she had been taking, her hair curled moistly about her forehead. Jane -looked at her with a touch of envy in her affectionate glance. Being -Mrs. Murray Townsend, she supposed it became her to sit demurely in a -chair, instead of putting herself, as she longed to do, beside Shirley, -on the grass. But Murray, with no such restraining thought in his head, -cast himself upon the turf beside his sister, at his wife's feet. - -Presently Rufus returned, bringing Nancy and Ross McAndrew. Olive, -spying the group upon the lawn, came trailing out in all her pretty -finery of the afternoon. Two or three young neighbours appeared. By -and by Peter Bell, just home from the paper-factory, looked across from -the Gay Street porch and descried the distant group. Somebody had -brought a banjo, and somebody else was essaying to sing a boating-song -to the accompaniment. - -"Shall I go over?" thought Peter, when he had had his bath and his -supper, and had come out upon the porch again. - -He was quite alone, for his mother, after serving his supper, had -hurried out to see a neighbour who had been long ill, and who depended -upon Mrs. Bell for her daily cheer. Mr. Bell had driven out to -Grandfather Bell's farm. The little house seemed strangely silent, and -the porch, in the early summer twilight, more companionable. A hammock -swung behind the vines, and after a moment's indecision, Peter stretched -his long form in it, clasping his hands under his head. He was -unusually weary, for the day had been very hot. He lay quietly -listening to the distant 'plunkings' of the banjo and to the faint -sounds of talk and laughter which floated across the space to him. So, -after a little, he fell asleep. - -He was awakened by the sound of voices on the step. The Bell porch, -unlike that of the Townsends, possessed no electric lamps, and the -nearest illumination to-night came from an arc-light on the corner. -Peter, in his hammock, lay shrouded wholly in darkness. He could see a -gleam of white between the vines which sheltered him, and the voices -were those of his sister Nancy and Shirley Townsend. - -"It's such a relief," Shirley was saying, "to get away from that banjo. -I seem to have been listening all day to the sorts of music I like -least. Rodman Fielding and his banjo are the last straw. Nan, what do -you suppose is the matter with me that I don't seem to care for the -things most girls do--clothes and boys and--banjos. I detest banjos!" - -"What do you care for?" Nancy asked. "Tennis, anyhow. And you like -Rufus and Ross and Peter, don't you? As for banjos--I don 't think -anybody thinks they 're very musical. They just like the funny songs -that go with them." - -"Rufus is like a brother, and Ross like an uncle--a young one. As for -Peter--I don't seem to know Peter. He 's changed. What 's he been -doing to make him look so old and sober? I almost thought I saw a gray -hair--and he 's no older than Murray." - -"Peter old and sober?"--Peter himself was growing fairly awake, although -not fully enough roused to the situation to realise that he was playing -eavesdropper.--"What an idea! He has n't changed a particle. Gray -hair! It could n't be. Why, Peter 's stronger than all the rest of us -put together!" - -"He's been taxing his strength, then. He looks as if he had been -carrying loads of responsibility--solving problems--worrying over some -he could n't solve. He's working too hard." - -Nancy laughed incredulously, and said that Peter's work was quite the -same as it had been, and that her friend's absence had made her see -things unnaturally. But Peter's eyes, in the darkness, opened wide. -Here was extraordinary discernment for a nineteen-year-old girl, who had -met him only once since her return, casually upon the street, during -which time she had merely laughed at him for not knowing her -immediately, and then had walked on. Was it possible that she had seen -that which he had been carefully guarding from the eyes of his family -for a long, long time, and at which even his mother did not guess? - -But here was Shirley again, speaking low and thoughtfully: "I seem to -see everybody, since I came home, as if I had never seen them before. I -see father looking as if he thought it did n't pay to have made so much -money, after all; and mother looking worn-out playing the grand lady; -Olive following after, and not finding much in it. Murray and Jane -absorbed in each other, but Jane wishing--no, I 'll not say what I think -Jane is wishing. She would n't admit it, I know. Ross and Rufus and -you, busy and happy. Your father and mother contented as ever. But -Peter----" - -It would not do. He was fully awake now. If she was going on to talk -about him again he must let her know he was there. Besides, if she -really divined something of the truth, he must not let her make Nancy -anxious. - -Shirley had paused with his name upon her lips, as if soberly thinking. -Peter sat up. But at the fortunate instant a figure dashed across Gay -Street. - -"You runaways!" Rufus called, reproachfully. "A fine hostess you are, -Shirley Townsend! They 're asking for you. You 'll have to come back." - -So they went away and Peter was left alone upon the porch. There was a -queer feeling tugging at his heart. Nobody else had seen, nobody else -had even noticed the slightest change in him. Of course it was not -possible that Shirley could know the least thing about his situation, -but it was something that she appreciated one fact--that he was working -to the limit of his capacity, and that, although he was not yet -overdone, the strain was beginning to tell. Not the strain of work, but -the greater and more exhausting drain of anxiety. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - LUNCHEON FOR TWELVE - - -"Mrs. Murray, Mrs. Townsend would like you to come to her room, if you -please." - -"Yes, Sophy, certainly. Is Mrs. Townsend's headache better this -morning?" - -"It's very bad, Mrs. Murray. And she's that upset about the luncheon -she's giving. Cook's taken sick, too--the bad luck!" - -"Since breakfast, Sophy?" - -"'T was Norah and Mary served breakfast. Cook but got out of bed and -went back. Mr. Townsend bade me send for the doctor. He says she 'll -not leave her bed again the day. And Mrs. Townsend says the luncheon -must go on, and not a bit of outside help to be had at this short -notice." - -Jane hurried down the hall, Sophy's laments in her ears. She found -Olive sitting on the foot of her mother's bed talking perturbedly with -the elder woman, in the effort to dissuade her from the purpose of -attempting to entertain any guests whatever in the circumstances. But -it became evident to Jane at once that Mrs. Townsend was not to be -dissuaded. - -"There must be somebody to be had," she asserted, as Jane drew up a -chair, after laying a cool hand on the aching forehead and expressing -her sympathy with the headache. "It can't be possible that Lemare could -n't send me somebody if he understood the necessity--or Perceval. We -don't need much done. Cook had all the preliminary baking done -yesterday. It's only to get everything together." - -"But that's the whole of it, mother," Olive urged. "You may say it's -only a simple luncheon, but Norah and Mary are certainly not equal to -it. Is n't it excuse enough to send those women word that you 're ill? -I 'll telephone--or write notes, if you prefer." - -She rose as she spoke, but Mrs. Townsend waved an agitated hand, and -shook her head violently. "You don't understand," she moaned, pressing -her hand to her head and falling back among the pillows. "There are -reasons why I can't have this thing fail. Mrs. Arlo Stevenson is a most -difficult person to get for any affair whatever--and this is -particularly in her honour. I could have had a caterer, of course, but I -consider it not good form to put small entertaining into any hands but -one's cook's. I am indebted to Mrs. Wister very deeply, and she is -bringing a guest whom she is very anxious to have meet Mrs. Stevenson. -There are other reasons----" - -"But, mother"--Olive's tone was growing impatient--"what can't be, can't -be. We can't get any one." - -"Perhaps I could do it," Jane began, with some hesitation. "If it's -really a simple luncheon----" - -"It is!" Mrs. Townsend spoke with eagerness. - -"I might not be able to manage the most elaborate dishes----" - -"Cook can't be too ill to tell you what is necessary." - -"But, mother," Olive protested, "Jane must be at the table. She can't -be in the kitchen, sending in courses." - -"That's of no consequence," declared Jane, quickly. "I don't mind -missing the luncheon in the least." - -"They are all older women," murmured Mrs. Townsend, closing her eyes -wearily. When Olive took things in hand, it was always difficult to -oppose her. - -"Yes, but Jane is our bride. And you expect me to be there. If Jane -stays in the kitchen, so shall I." - -"I don't know what to do," and the poor lady on the bed, among her -pillows, looked as if she were indeed suffering. - -There was a minute's silence. Then Jane spoke with gentle decision. - -"Olive, dear, that is very nice of you, but I truly don't mind in the -least. It is n't as if you had n't already introduced me everywhere, -and I had n't been entertained over and over. If mother's guests are -older ladies, my absence surely won't be noticed. And I 'd love to try -what I can do. You know I 've had years of training at cookery, and if I -can't manage all of Cook's dishes, perhaps I can substitute others that -are n't at all common. I can promise at least that nothing will be -burned." - -"You are a dear child," said Mrs. Townsend fervently. She wiped away a -nervous tear or two. - -Olive followed Jane to her room to watch her new sister exchange her -morning dress for one more suitable for the affairs she meant to take in -hand. - -"This is going to be fun," said Jane gaily. - -"I don't see how you can think so. It's certainly very foolish of -mother to persist against all odds. One would think her life depended -on that luncheon." - -"It does--in a way. Her poor nerves are quite worn out. I 've seen it -for a long time. Having things go wrong just now is the last straw." - -"Why, Jane, what's going to happen?" called Shirley, five minutes later, -encountering Jane on the stairs which led to the servants' rooms on the -third floor. Shirley had been up to see Cook, who adored her. - -"Is Bridget able to see me?" asked Jane. - -"She 'll be much flattered. It's sciatica, and it lays her low, but she -can converse with intelligence, even with brilliancy. She 's in a -terrible state over not being able to get up that luncheon." - -"I 'm going to hold a council of war with her," and Jane disappeared -into Cook's room. - -Half an hour later she came out again, her eyes dancing with -anticipation, pencil and paper in hand. As she ran downstairs, Sophy -came up with a tray, and caught the overflow of Bridget's emotions. - -"The cleverness of her!" exclaimed the invalid. "To take the menyou -into her own pretty hands and think she can see to it all! She can, too, -or I 'm deceived. Consultin' with me and gettin' my directions, and -tellin' me where she makes bold to follow, and where she 's not quite -sure. It's a pity she 's not mistress of the house in Mrs. Townsend's -place--and her so wore out she ought to be at a sanitarium this minute. -Look to it, Sophy, that Norah and Mary does their duty by Mrs. Murray -this day, If they 're inclined to be triflin', bid them come up to me. -I 'll soon put them in mind of what Mr. Murray says to me when he -brought home his wife. 'Whatever you do to please her will be -appreciated,' he says, 'by me.' And it's nothing I would n't do for Mr. -Murray and Miss Shirley, these seven years I 've lived here. And now I -'m feelin' the same way toward Mrs. Murray." - -Whether it was the potency of the message which reached scullery maid -and waitress by way of Sophy, or whether it was Jane's own engaging -manner, together with the respect she soon inspired by the assured and -competent way in which she "took hold," there could be no question that -by the end of the first hour not only Norah and Mary, but also Ellen, -the laundress, were flying about as they had rarely done before, even -for Bridget, who certainly knew how to get out of them work enough and -to spare. - -At a moment when they chanced to be all together, Jane had said to them, -as with deft fingers she mixed a bowlful of ingredients, that if with -their help she could only bring about the serving of a luncheon which -the guests would like to eat, she should be happier than over any -entertainment she herself had ever been offered. And she had been able -to tell from their smiling interested faces that she was to have from -that moment the best service they could give her. - -Shirley, when affairs were well under way, had gone to the telephone and -called up Murray's office. - -"I want you to come home for a few minutes at two o'clock!" she said, -imperatively. - -"What for? Anything the matter?" asked her brother. - -"Not a thing," said Shirley, reassuringly "But there 's something -happening up here at the house that you must see." - -"I 'm pretty busy." - -"You 'll never forgive yourself, when you hear about it, if you don't -see with your own eyes." - -"All right, I 'll try to make it. Anything connected with Jane?" - -"Of course. Do you suppose I 'd ask you if it was n't?" - -"I'll be there." - -"I thought you would," and Shirley laughed as she hung up the receiver. -No doubt Murray was a happy man. - -"Do you suppose Jane is going to be able to do it?" queried Mrs. -Townsend, dressing with the help of Shirley and Sophy. As the hour for -the arrival of her guests approached, doubts were beginning to assail -her. Jane was no doubt an extremely capable young matron, but the -preparing of such a luncheon as Bridget had planned meant not only -accomplished cookery, but much skill and care in the details of serving. -Had Jane's eyes been open during the brief period of her entertainment -at various fine tables! It was too late to do anything but hope so. - -"Don't worry, mother," Shirley had urged. "Jane's doing wonders. If she -can keep it up she 'll surprise you." - -"I had a bit sip of the booly-on just now when I was down in the -kitchen," offered Sophy, "and it was elegant. And you know yourself 'm, -Bridget says that's one of the most trying things of all to get tasty." - -Mrs. Townsend went wanly down into her rooms, to find flowers all about, -distributed by Olive's skilful fingers. She looked into the -dining-room. Her table was faultlessly laid, to the last detail, and a -charming arrangement of lilies was mirrored in the polished mahogany. - -"Now come and rest until the last minute," urged Shirley. "And don't -worry. Mrs. Arlo Stevenson won't have a thing to criticise--except the -conversation." - -An hour afterward, Murray, letting himself in with his latch-key, found -Shirley awaiting him inside the door. "Don't say a word," she -whispered. "Just walk straight past the dining-room without looking in. -Mother 's entertaining Mrs. Stevenson at luncheon, you know, and it's a -very solemn occasion." - -Wondering, Murray, hat in hand, followed his sister as she walked -demurely by the wide entrance to the dining-room, from within which he -could hear a subdued murmur of voices. But once past, she hurried him, -by a circuitous route, to a narrow hallway at the back of the house, -which led to the kitchen. Here she stationed him, and bade him push the -door open a cautious crack and peep within. He obeyed her. Shirley -stood behind him, alive with anticipation, while she watched her -brother's shoulders. - -Shirley could not see his face, but she heard his subdued exclamation as -he gazed at the scene within. She knew what it was. The luncheon had -reached the salad course. Jane was arranging plates picturesque with an -enticing combination of ingredients, parti-coloured, crisp and cool. Her -fair arms were bared to the elbow, her cheeks were flushed. At her -right hand Mary was ready with assistance, her eyes respectfully -studying the arrangement--not of the salad, but of her young mistress's -hair, which was certainly worth studying for its effective simplicity. -The maid could never hope to match that daintiness of arrangement with -her own ash-coloured locks, but she meant to try. - -Murray turned about at last. "Well, by Jove!" he exploded, softly. -"How does this come about?" - -Shirley noiselessly closed the door and explained in a whisper. -Murray's eyes grew eloquent as he listened. "The little trump!" was his -comment. "I wish I could stay till she's finished. I suppose it would -n't do to call her out now?" - -"Mercy, no! You might upset her. So far I don't think the least thing -has gone wrong." - -"What possessed mother to put the thing through, anyhow? Jane ought to -be in there with the others." - -"It was something about entertaining Mrs. Arlo Stevenson. Mother felt -it must be done, though the heavens fell. They nearly did fall, till -Jane came under and held them up. As for Jane's being at the table--she -did n't want to be there. And Olive would n't be, without her, so -there's nothing noticeable. They 're all women of mother 's age--on -some special board of charities, or something like that, that makes them -congenial." - -"Its making them congenial does n't necessarily follow, unfortunately. -So Olive stayed out, did she? That's one count for Olive. Why is n't -she helping Jane, though?" - -"Jane would n't have either of us in the kitchen. Olive did the flowers, -and Norah and I the table. I got in an English fashion or two that will -either drive mother to distraction or fill her with pride. I forgot to -tell her," and Shirley began to laugh. She led Murray away to safer -regions, but he looked at his watch and said he must be off. - -"Wasn't it worth coming up for?" she demanded. - -"No question of that. Much obliged for letting me know. I 'll settle -with Jane later. Take her out for a drive, or something, to cool her -off, will you? Good bye!" And Murray vanished, smiling to himself. -"That ought to make her pretty solid with mother," he reflected, as he -raced to his car. - -But when the last guest had rustled away, Mrs. Townsend was in no -condition to fall upon Jane's neck and overwhelm her with thanks. -Instead she had to be carried to her room by Phelps, the -coachman--summoned in haste from the stable--and put to bed by her -daughters. Her physician arrived in short order, and his edict, when he -had telephoned for a nurse, was stern. - -"When you society women stop putting yourselves through a grind that no -strong man could stand up under, you will get a grip upon your nerves," -said he. "Mrs. Townsend was at the end of her forces two months ago, -and I told her so. She has simply been keeping up on will--with the -inevitable result. The moment she is fit to travel she must get off to -the quietest place on my list--and stay there. Home would be a better -place for her, if she would obey the rules; but she won 't, so that -settles it. And you, Miss Olive"--he turned abruptly to the elder -daughter of the house--"would do well to go with her. It's evident you -'ve been travelling along the same road." - -"O Doctor Warrener, how absurd you are! I 'm perfectly well. And I 've -half a dozen invitations to lovely places. They 'll do me far more good -than going to some invalid resort and taking baths." - -He shook his head. "You're all alike," said he. "I may talk till I 'm -dumb--you 'll pay the price. And when you 've paid it, you 'll -remember." - -"There are two," said Olive, indicating Jane and Shirley, "who will -never have nervous prostration on account of overdoing society." - -Doctor Warrener surveyed them, and the grimness of his face relaxed. -"I'll acquit them on their faces," said he. "Tell your husband, Mrs. -Murray, to shut you up in a bandbox--or, better, take you off West to -that place where he got back his health--before he lets you drift into -the swirl. As for Shirley,"--he laid his hand upon her shoulder--"if -I'm any reader of destiny--and I ought to be--she 's going to swing that -tennis racquet for several years yet before she gives up and settles -down." - -All this had happened before Mr. Townsend and Murray came home. Mrs. -Townsend's breakdowns after fatigue in fulfilling her engagements, and -the summoning of the doctor, had become too frequent occurrences to -imply the sending for her husband. The orders away, for rest and -recuperation, were also, within the last few years, of semi-annual -recurrence. - -"It simply means," said Murray, pacing with Jane up and down the long -flower-bordered walk between the house and the tennis-court, "it simply -means six weeks or two months for you to try your hand at being mistress -of the establishment. And judging by what I saw that hand do -to-day----" - -Jane looked quickly up at him. - -"I should say that it was competent to run anything. That salad was -a--what do women say?--a symphony--a star. Not that I care much for -salads myself, but to see you putting it together----" - -"Murray--you didn 't!" - -"Didn't I? You had on a pink-and-white checked apron that came up over -your shoulders. Your sleeves were short, and your hair curled round your -ears, the way it does on damp days. You----" - -"Where were you? How did you know! Who----" - -"I was on the other side of the door, which you forgot to lock. Never -in my life was I so bowled over by the sight of a girl in a kitchen." - -"If I had known you were looking----" - -"Precisely. That was why Shirley wouldn't let me call you out. Of -course I should have kissed you--I never felt more like it--and that -might have endangered the composition of the salad." - -"I 'm afraid it would," laughed Jane. "As it was, I made the one real -mistake of the luncheon--I sent that salad in on the game plates! The -girls were in such a flurry they did n't notice till the plates began to -come out again. I hope mother did n't mind very much." - -"I 'll warrant nobody else did. Mrs. Arlo Stevenson is as short-sighted -as an owl in the day-time, and as I understand it, Mrs. Stevenson was -the guest who counted--goodness knows why! I think she's insufferable. -I 'm glad mother 's got her off her mind, for the time being. It will -give her a chance to recuperate. Poor mother! She misses a lot of fun, -does n't she?" - -"She thinks it's we who miss it." - -"Perhaps we can show her better some day--when we 've been very good and -earned that house by ourselves. Hi! What?" exclaimed Murray. "How you -jumped! Did you think that house by ourselves was n't really to -materialise some day?" - -"I--wasn't sure." Jane's voice was low. She did not mean to show how -much she cared, or how she longed to believe definitely in a prospect -which, as yet, had not been in so many words held out to her. - -"Why, it's a certainty! Have n't I made that clear, little girl? You -know, when I told you how anxious father was to have us live with them, -I said it would n't be for all time. Don't you remember that?" - -"I know. But I thought----" - -"You thought, I see, it meant while he needed me, which would be as long -as he lived. No, he does n't insist on that. It was to be only while -he stayed an active partner in the business. He wanted me at his elbow, -and I did n't feel like refusing him. He means to retire within five -years--or sooner, if his health shows signs of breaking. Then he -understands that I 'm to have a home by myself--build one, you know. -Well, well, what a squeeze my arm is getting! Are you so glad?" - -"I'm pretty glad. It's not that--that this place is n't pleasant, and -everybody more than kind, but----" - -"You needn't be afraid to tell me--in fact, you don't need to tell me. -You 're too much of a born Jenny Wren not to want to feather your own -nest. And I want to see you do it. We 'll begin to look over plans. -We can talk about it and think about it----" - -"No, we can't, Murray." - -"Why not? Isn't anticipation----" - -"Yes, but it would make it harder to wait. Now I know it's sure, I -can----" - -"Be good?" said her husband. "You are being good--heavenly. What you -did to-day--well, if you could have known what I thought about you when -I saw you out there putting those pretty shoulders to the domestic -wheel--proud is n't the name for it. And let me tell you, Janey -Townsend, it is n't every girl who could take command of the forces and -have them working for you at the top of their ability, like that. Norah -has n't a nose and chin of that perky shape for nothing; and Mary can -soldier for fair when she chooses. As for Sophy--but you had Sophy for -your own from the start. And it 's not been done with tips, either, has -it? Honestly, now, have you ever given Sophy a tip since you came to the -house?" - -"A tip?" said Jane. "Money, you mean? Why, no. Should I? I never -thought of it. Does she expect it?" - -"She probably doesn't now--from you--or want it, as long as you reward -her with your smiles and ask about her invalid brother, the way I -overheard you doing the other day. She'd probably rather have your -friendly interest than all Olive's dollar bills. Oh, there are several -ways of winning people's loyalty, dear--and yours is the best. Only -everybody can't do it. Do you know, gentle Jane, I 'm a good deal -interested in seeing you in the role of mistress of this house for a -while?" - -"Murray, I 'm so doubtful about it!" - -"You need n't be. The commanding officer who has proved to his regiment -that in an emergency he can work with them, shoulder to shoulder--and -work better than they can--need have no fears. It 'll just be a case of -'Bridget, Norah, Sophy, Mary, Ellen--fall in! Shoulder arms! March!' -And off the regiment will go, heads up, chests out, eyes to the front." - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - POT-HOOKS - - -"I want to have a talk with you, Murray." - -"All right, sister, I 'm at your service." - -"Please come over to the seat beyond the shrubbery, where nobody will -see or hear. It's not a very suitable place, but it's better than the -house this hot night." - -"Not a suitable place?" queried Murray, as he followed Shirley across -the lawn. "Not so fast, child. It is a hot night, and I 've only just -cooled off since dinner. It was insufferable in the office to-day--or -would have been if anybody had had time to stop and think about it. Why -is n't that romantic seat beyond the shrubbery just the place to talk?" - -"Because the talk has no romance about it. The office would be the place -for it, only you 've no time to give me if I should come there." - -"You excite my curiosity." Murray disposed himself comfortably upon the -wide rustic seat, screened from all beholders without and within the -grounds, not only by shrubbery and hedges, but by the fast deepening -July twilight. "Fire away. Anything gone wrong?" - -"Nothing--except me." - -"You alarm me." - -"Don't joke. I 'm serious." - -"I see you are. And that's what alarms me. Seriousness, at -eighteen----" - -"I 'm nineteen--nearly twenty. And I 'm not only serious--I 'm cross. -Murray, I want something to do." - -"Haven't you plenty? Jane tells me she could n't get on without you." - -"Jane is a dear. And I love to help her. But I want to be doing -something--else. I want to amount to something. I want to learn -something." - -"Miss Cockburn's finishing-school didn't finish then? Is college the -bee you have in your bonnet?" - -"No, I 'm afraid I 'm too unsettled for that now--I don't know why. -Once I spent a whole week trying to convince mother I must go to college -instead of to school in England. But I don't want that any more. I -want--Murray, please don't laugh when I tell you!" - -"Why should I laugh? It's plain you mean business of some sort, and I -'m honoured by your confidence. Go ahead, little girl, and don't be -afraid of your big brother." - -"Well, then, I want to learn stenography and typewriting." It came with -a rush, and after it Shirley sat still, one hand holding the other -tightly while she waited for the explosion she expected. - -It did not come. Murray turned his head until she could feel that he -was looking directly at her through the dim light. He sat up slightly, -and thrust his hands deeper down into his pockets--a masculine action -which usually indicates concentration of attention. He was silent for a -full minute before he spoke. When he did speak, it was in the tone that -one man uses to another when the basis of their intercourse is that of -mutual respect. - -"Would you mind giving me your idea? It's plain you have thought -something out to the end. I need to know it from the beginning, if you -want any advice worth while." - -"I can, now I know that you're not going to knock me down with arguments -against it before you know mine for it." - -"That would be poor policy. That's the boomerang sort of argument--the -one that comes back at one's self. Besides, I've too much confidence in -my sister's good judgment to believe that she would fire a proposition -like that at me without a reason back of it." - -"The reason is easy. I'm restless for something to do. I don't want to -be a next season's debutante, and go through a winter like the five -Olive has spent. I want to work. I want to fit myself to be -independent. If anything should happen to father's money, I don't want -to be like the Desmond girls after their father's failure, as helpless -as baby birds pushed out of the nest. Olive could n't do a thing. -Forrest is just an idler. You have Jane to take care of. But I--I -could be learning to support myself." - -"The business is in fine condition. We never were so substantial a firm -as now. There's very little danger of our going to pot." - -"That may be," said Shirley, "though things do happen, Murray, out of a -clear sky. But that's not my real reason. My real reason is a genuine, -great big longing to amount to something. I never come down to the -office without envying the girls I see there. I envy them because they -have to do it--because they 're supporting themselves and somebody else -by it." - -"Do you mean that you would like a position in our office?" - -"Oh, would n't I! If I could study and study, and practise and -practise, and then some day take a dictation from you or father and -bring you a perfect copy, I believe I 'd be--Murray, I 'd be the -happiest girl that ever lived!" - -"You mean that, do you?" - -"I do." - -"Have you thought that if you took a position in our office, or in any -other, you 'd be shutting out some poor girl who really needs the -salary?" - -"Yes, I've thought of it. I know that's an argument against it. But, -Murray, don't you think the rich men's daughters need employment -sometimes quite as much as the poor ones do? Why, I 'm telling you I -envy the poor ones!" - -"I know; but the fact remains that they need the money, and you don't." - -"Are n't you keeping some poor man out of the salary you get by taking -the place of father's right hand man?" - -Murray laughed. "There's a back-hander for me! But I 'm practically a -partner, you know, and a firm can't do without its heads, no matter how -many poor fellows would like the job." - -"And you have the right to make something of yourself. But I have n't -because I should be taking work away from some girl who needs it. I -don't want to do that. I 'd work for nothing, or give my salary away." - -"Ah, but that wouldn't solve the problem. The girl whose job you took -from her would n't accept your salary from you." - -"Then, just because a girl's father can support her, must she give up -learning how to support herself? And the fun of doing it?" - -"What do you expect the family to say about it?" - -"Of course they won't like it. Except father. I think he will." - -"Possibly, after you have wheedled him and hung round his neck. Well, -do you feel you have a right to disappoint mother and Olive, as you will -do, if you so much as begin on this course, to say nothing of sticking -to it?" - -Shirley was silent for a moment. Then she answered, very gently, "I -should be sorry for that, of course, but I think I have the right. -Devoting one's self to society can't be a duty one owes to one's family, -if one does n't feel satisfied with that life. And my learning to earn -my own living won't disgrace my family--not in these days of millionaire -milliners and violet raisers." - -"No, it won't disgrace your family. Instead, it makes one member of it -sit up and look at his small sister with a good deal of respect. If you -take hold of the thing, you 'll go through with it. I 've not the least -doubt of that, for you 're no quitter." - -"Thank you. Then will you go with me to talk with father about it?" - -"When?" - -"Now. He 's in the library." - -Murray got up. "You are in earnest," he remarked. "Yes, I 'll go with -you. But you 'll find the question will have to be pretty thoroughly -threshed out with him before he agrees. He employs none but experts; -you 'll have to win your spurs before you can wear them. And good -stenographers are born, not made. If you 've got it in you, you 'll -succeed; if you have n't, you won't, no matter how hard you try." - -He could not see his sister's eyes, but he could read the determination -in her voice as she answered that it was the expectation of winning -those spurs that made her heart jump just to think about it. - -It was a fortnight after this talk, and the longer and more earnest one -which succeeded it, that, coming away from the factory one warm July -afternoon at an earlier hour than usual, Peter Bell happened upon his -young neighbour in a most unexpected place. Far downtown, blocks below -the usual shopping district, he saw Shirley Townsend come out of a -doorway and start rapidly up the street. She had not seen him, and he -was too far away to call to her, so he was forced to quicken his pace -almost to a run to overtake her at the next corner before she signalled -her car. - -She had walked so fast that the best he could do was to run and swing -himself aboard the same car just as it got under way. The car was full, -and Shirley herself was obliged to stand, clinging to a strap. Peter -secured a strap beside her. There was little chance for conversation -during the long ride uptown, but Peter's eyes were observant, and he -noticed a peculiarity in Shirley's attire. - -At an hour in the afternoon when the girls of her sort would all be -wearing light frocks and ribbons, Shirley was dressed like the girls in -the office he had just left. With a difference--which Peter's eyes also -discerned, although he could not have told just where the difference -lay. Shirley's white blouse, her blue serge skirt, her sailor hat, her -trim shoes, all bore about them the stamp of quality, indefinable, yet -not to be denied. - -As for her face, Peter thought he had never seen it so alight with life. -The smile she had flashed at him was brilliant. He was glad he had -caught the car. It was a decided enlivenment of the long ride, -monotonous with daily repetition, just to stand beside the trim, swaying -figure, and occasionally exchange a word with its possessor. Besides, -he was feeling not a little curiosity as to the errand which had taken -her to a place where hung the sign of a well-known commercial college. - -"It is a hot day, isn't it?" observed Shirley, when he had handed her -off the car, and they were walking up Gay Street toward Worthington -Square. "Just the day to get into the country. I 'd like a gallop over -about ten miles of good roads--just to feel the wind in my face." - -"It would be great, would n't it?" agreed Peter. - -She looked up at him. "You and Olive don't ride as much as you used -to." - -"She has n't seemed to care for it for the last year or so." - -"Hasn't she asked you to ride Grayback whenever you wanted?" - -"She 's been very kind about offering him. But I don't like to go over -and order him out myself." - -"He 's pining for exercise. So is Pretty Polly, though I had one short -canter on her before breakfast. You 've never been out with me on -horseback. Perhaps you don't know I can ride." - -"I have my eyesight. And as for inviting you to go with me--how can I, -when you have the horses? If you 're asking me to go with you--there 's -nothing on earth I 'd rather do just now." - -"I believe that," thought Shirley, as she ran into the house to change -her clothes. "If ever a man looked as if he 'd like to drop his cares -and get off on a horse's back, Peter does to-day." - -In a few minutes she was crossing the lawn, in her riding habit, crop in -hand. Peter met her, himself in riding trim. His face showed his -pleasure in the prospect, as he put her up and swung into his own -saddle. - -"'If wishes were horses,'" he quoted, as they turned toward the -Northboro road. "And sometimes they are. An hour ago I was looking out -of the office window at the factory, and wishing for this very sort of -thing. I ought to see Grandfather Bell. Do you mind if we go that -way?" - -"I 'm fond of that way. It will give us a good gallop down the old -turnpike, and a cool walk through the woods to freshen the horses." - -Once out of the city they were off at a brisk trot, talking a little now -and then, but mostly busy with thoughts. They had seen so little of -each other since Shirley's return that a sense of having begun a new -acquaintanceship hampered them both. They had not yet found common -ground. - -"Now for the gallop," said Shirley, as they rounded a turn and came out -upon a long, level stretch of road, with few vehicles in sight. - -"This is the spot where your sister lost most of her hairpins, when she -took her first ride with me," said Peter, indicating to Grayback that a -change of pace was in order. "I don't think she 'd ever had such a -dashing get-away before. Off, are you? Well, well, you do mean -business, don't you? All right, I 'm with you. But don't expect me to -recover the hairpins!" he called, as Grayback picked up the pace Pretty -Polly had set. - -But both Pretty Polly and her rider were evidently on their mettle, and -Grayback, bigger and longer of stride though he was, had to look to his -heels to keep up with the little brown mare. - -Shirley proved a daring rider, and before she finally pulled Polly down -to a canter she certainly had felt the wind in her face with a rush. - -When she looked round at Peter, as they entered the mile-long course of -wood-shaded road which succeeded the turnpike, she met a brighter smile -than she had seen on his face since she came home, two months before. -Once more, for the moment, he looked the care-free boy again. - -"You may be a pupil of the riding-schools, but you 've taken plenty of -road-training since," was his comment. "And not a hairpin loose, so far -as I can see." - -"That's because I always tie my mop with a ribbon for riding, like any -schoolgirl. It's childish, but comfortable. Is n't this deliciously -cool in here? And I 've forgotten all about the pothooks already." But -having said this, Shirley bit her lip. She had not meant to tell yet. - -"Pothooks?" repeated Peter, curiously. "Have you been bothered by -pothooks lately?" - -"A trifle." She turned away her head, and pointed out a fine clump of -ferns, growing on a bank by the roadside. - -"Do you want them?" he asked. - -"No, no, not enough to get down for. I--said something I did n't mean -to, and the ferns offered a way of escape." - -Peter was silent, wondering what she could mean. - -Then Shirley said, frankly: - -"That sounds rude, and I 'm going to tell you." - -"Not because something slipped out. I won't even guess at it, unless -you want me to." - -"I do--now. I think I 'd like to tell you, though not even Nancy knows -yet. My family do--but I don't think even they quite realise what it -means to me. Perhaps you would." - -"I 'd like to try." - -"I--have begun to study stenography," said Shirley. "When I've learned -it--and typewriting--thoroughly, I 'm to have a place in Murray's -office." - -She said it with her eyes looking straight between her horse's ears; and -she did not see the quick, astonished glance which fell upon her. - -Peter made no answer for so long that she turned, wondering and a little -resentful. - -"I beg your pardon," said Peter. "I believe I forgot to answer. But -that was n't from lack of interest. You took my breath away. When I -got it back I fell to thinking that I might have expected it of you." - -"You might? Why?" - -"I 'm not good at telling my thoughts. But I knew you had a mind of -your own from the day you first gave Nancy Bell of Gay Street the -preference over the little Hille girl of Worthington Square." - -"Gay Street was sixteen times more interesting than Worthington Square, -always," declared Shirley, frankly. - -"How do you like the pothooks?" - -"I 'm going to like them, whether they 're likable or not. Just now I -'m in a sort of delirium ever them. Little black quirls and dots and -dashes walk through my dreams. I 've just one week of it now, and I 'm -fascinated. The only trouble is, I want to get hold of everything at -once." - -"Hold steady and make sure as you go. Slow accuracy at first is much -better than a fast jumble that you can't read yourself. If you like it, -and are getting hold of it already, that shows you are going to win out. -It's easy to tell, from the start, who 'll make a stenographer in the -end and who won't." - -"That's what Murray says, and it encourages me. You 've studied it -yourself, then?" - -"Taught myself in odd hours; thought it might be useful some time, and -it has been, many times. I can show you a lot of technical short cuts -that will be of use to you, when you 're familiar with the regular -method.' - -"Oh, thank you--I'll be grateful. Come Polly--you 've cooled off--try a -smooth little canter for a while." - -At Grandfather Bell's Peter took Shirley down and sent her to roam about -the great orchard, while he hunted up the old gentleman and had a talk -with him. This consumed nearly an hour, and when they were off upon the -road once more, Shirley discovered that the care-free look had vanished -from her companion's face, and that his mouth had taken again the grave -expression it had acquired after she went away to school. - -She let him ride to the edge of the woods, four miles toward home, in -the abstracted silence which had fallen upon him; but as they came under -the first cool shadows, she brought Pretty Polly down to a walk, and -began to talk lightly about Murray and Jane, and the successful way in -which Jane had taken up the cares of managing the big house and its -affairs. Peter obediently followed her lead, but after a short time she -discovered that he gave her his attention only by an effort. - -She longed to know what was the matter, for that something had gone -wrong with him she was more than ever sure. Two years ago she would -have demanded, with the familiarity of long acquaintance, an explanation -of any cloud upon his brow, for she and Peter had been as good friends -as seventeen and twenty-six may be, when the families of both are united -by certain common interests. But somehow nineteen and twenty-eight had -not yet recovered quite the old ground of mutual frankness, and -Shirley's anxious questions halted upon her lips. - -They had another gallop when they came to the smooth stretch, but this -time, although Peter said, "That was a good one, was n't it?" his face -did not clear. - -Just before they reached home, however, he appeared to realise all at -once that he must have been poor company, and said so, with a word of -regret. - -"I don't mind a bit," said Shirley. "One does n't always feel like -talking. And I know in your position, you must have a good many cares." - -"A few. I 'm afraid I 'm not good at carrying them, since I let myself -keep them on my own shoulders, even on horseback. They fell off on the -way out, but at the farm they climbed up Grayback's tail again. I 'm -sorry, for you 've been jolly company, and I 've honestly enjoyed the -ride more than anything that has happened in a year." - -"We 'll go again, then, on another half-holiday, and next time we 'll -leave Black Care behind altogether. Or, if you will take him along you -shall introduce me. Will you?" - -Her look was so girlishly sympathetic and inviting, Peter could hardly -be blamed for finding a ray of comfort in it, although he only said -stoutly: - -"That would n't be fair." - -"Indeed it would. What are one's friends for? And Black Care does n't -like the society of two." - -"That's true. But he's not a desirable acquaintance, and I don't mean -to introduce him to you. Remember the pothooks--they 'll keep you -busy." - -He smiled as he said it, but Shirley persisted, more boldly, for she -thought she detected the fact that it would be a relief to Peter to tell -somebody his troubles, if his conscience would let him. - -"I 've seen, ever since I came home, that something was worrying you. -It's made me feel badly. Perhaps just telling would make it easier." - -"I should imagine it might. I 'll think about it. Meanwhile, thank you -for two fine hours. We 're back just in time for your dinner--and my -supper. Will you go to the house door, or dismount here at the stable?" - -"Here, please. And next Saturday we'll go again, if you really care -to." - -"I shall think about it through the week. Here you are--you don't half -let me help you. Success to the pothooks! Good-bye!" - - - - - CHAPTER V - - BLACK CARE - - -On the following Saturday it rained all day, and no horseback-riding or -excursions of any sort were possible. Before another half-holiday had -come round, an unusual and severe pressure of work had overtaken Peter, -which shut him off from any leisure whatever for many successive weeks. -Night after night, all through July and August, he came home late in the -evening, too weary for anything but supper and bed. During all this -time he saw little of the people in Worthington Square. - -As for Shirley, although she thought often of Peter, and was sorry that -no chance seemed to favour her getting at the secret of his burdens, -whatever they might be, her own work absorbed her. She was proving a -ready pupil, keen of intellect and quick of eye and hand. As she -advanced in the mastery of stenography, she became more and more -fascinated by its details, and spent more and more of her spare hours in -practice. The typewriting she acquired in an unexpectedly short space -of time, but her chief ambition was to achieve the ability to take -dictation rapidly and accurately, and to this end she laboured with much -zeal. - -Nancy Bell was taken into confidence, and became an active and -interested partner. Many were the hours she spent with Shirley, reading -aloud to her from all sorts of books and papers, with a view to -accustoming her to any kind of composition. - -"You certainly can do anything now," Nancy said, one day in late -September, when she had given Shirley an unusually trying test at top -speed, and the worker had typewritten it without an error worth -mentioning. - -"I 'm not so sure." Shirley studied her paper. "I 'm used to you, and -you don't flurry me much. But if I should go to father and offer myself -for a trial, I 'm afraid I should bungle it." - -"But you can't get office practice without office practice. Nothing can -take its place or give you confidence, I should think. Why don't you -let Murray try you? If he dictates as fast as he talks when he 's -discussing business with Peter, he must be hard enough for anybody." - -That evening, as Murray and Jane, in the library, were discussing -certain household matters, Shirley, sitting at the big table with her -notebook, turned a leaf and began to take down the conversation. - -"Did I say that?" Murray asked, toward the close of the conference. "I -thought I put it quite differently." - -"You said, dear," said Jane, "that it ought to cost that, not that it -did." - -"Are you sure?" - -"Quite sure." - -"I must have been wandering in my mind. I seem to hear myself saying in -a tone of great assurance that it actually did cost seventeen dollars. -I could n't have said anything else, knowing the facts." - -Jane merely smiled, sure of her ground, but not liking to dispute it -further. Murray took a turn up and down the room, whistling softly. He -himself would not insist upon the thing he was sure he had said, but he -was none the less confident. It seemed to bring the discussion to a -standstill, as such small differences of statement sometimes will. - -Shirley began to read aloud from her note-book a reproduction of the -conversation which had just taken place. Listening incredulously, -Murray heard himself quoted as saying precisely that which Jane had -asserted. - -"Look here," said he, coming over to the table and seizing upon the -note-book. "Are you sure you have that straight--that you 're not -saying it from memory of what Jane said I said?" - -"I did n't get every word you said, but I did get that sentence. You -brought out the 'ought' so strenuously I put the exact sign down." - -"I 'll give in, of course, but I 'll have to be careful of what I say in -your hearing after this. You must be pretty good at it, if you caught -all that off our tongues. We were talking fairly fast, if I remember." - -"You were very nearly too fast for me--in spots. Conversation 's harder -to take than anything else. Do you want to try me on a business -letter?" - -"With pleasure," and Murray promptly pulled a letter out of his pocket, -glanced it over, and began to dictate a reply. - -Before she had done two lines, Shirley realised that the actual -receiving of dictation from a man of business, who was seriously putting -her to a test, was quite different from any amount of practice with -Nancy Bell. Murray's keen eyes were upon her, he was watching her -fingers as they flew, he was using business terms with which she was not -familiar. These technicalities she was forced to omit, but after a -little she steadied under the consciousness that he was speaking not too -rapidly, and that he paused now and then between sentences, as if -studying the letter he was answering. - -At the end she said, "I 'll make you a copy," and flew out of the room. -Murray smiled at Jane, who had been an interested witness of the scene. - -"I can't get used to the idea that the child is serious in all this," -said he. "I know she's been working at it all summer, but I 've seen so -little of it, and she 's been so quiet about it, I forget that she means -business. If mother and Olive had been at home all this time I should -have heard of little else." - -"There 's no doubt of her being in earnest. She and Nan have practised -by the hour," answered Jane. "I think you'll find her copy pretty -correct." - -"I doubt it. She certainly caught the gist of our conversation, but -that 's comparatively easy, for her memory would help out on the sort of -thing we were saying. But when it comes to getting it word for word, as -a business letter must, she 'll find that 's another thing." - -Shirley came back presently and handed her brother the letter. He read -it through carefully. "By Jove!" he ejaculated, and looked at his -sister. - -"I had to leave spaces for the words you used that I had never heard," -said she. "I did n't think of it before, but there must be a lot of -such words in your correspondence. Would you mind making me out a list -of them, or giving me a catalogue? Next time I 'll know them." - -"I'll warrant you will. Except for them, you 've practically every word -just as I gave it to you. See here, when have you done it? You have n't -had time to accomplish so much. It takes at least six months to make a -respectable stenographer. You 've been at it but four. Come here and -let me look at you. By rights you ought to have grown thin. No, I -can't see that you have." - -"Of course I have n't. I 've never been so happy in my life." - -"Miss Henley, who is in the office, is going to be married in October." -He studied her face keenly. - -She looked at him with eager eyes. He laughed. - -"If you were a pauper with a family to support, you could n't look more -appealing," he said. "Well, keep pegging away, and I 'll recommend you -to father." - - -Mrs. Harrison Townsend did not come home at all that autumn. Instead, -she sailed for Italy, taking Olive with her. From Europe Mrs. Townsend -wrote Murray a letter which he showed to no one, but which gave him no -little discomfort of mind. - -"I am much better away," she wrote, "where I shall not be in the throes -of the revolution which has overtaken my household. With Jane refusing -many of her most important invitations, Forrest away, and Shirley -casting herself into the business world, like any poor man's daughter, I -should be too distressed to be able to play my own part with composure. -I hear that Jane is not keeping up her calling list as conscientiously -as she should do. Please try to impress her with her duty to our -friends, even if she does not care to make them hers. When I return, I -shall wish to take up my social life where I left it, and if I should -find my friends alienated by the eccentricity of my daughter-in-law, I -should feel that a wrong had been done which it would be difficult to -overlook." - -"About the hardest thing in the world," thought Murray, as he pondered -these lines, "seems to be for one woman to get another's point of view. -Here 's Jane, staying at home all summer to keep me company, when she -might have gone off to the seaside or the mountains with Olive. She 's -tackling big problems every day in the management of the house, to say -nothing of looking after all mother's social correspondence. She 's -entertained relatives of ours from in town and from out of town, to say -nothing of making father's evenings pleasant and seeing to her own -family. Yet because some woman on mother's list writes her that Jane has -failed to pay a call within the required limit of time, the poor girl is -'eccentric.' Well, she shall not be taxed with it, if I can help it." - -Feeling that Jane, although unconscious of the elder woman's -dissatisfaction with her endeavours, should have amends made her after -some fashion, Murray arranged to take her with him upon a week's -business trip, a flying journey half-way across the continent and back. -In the absence of Mrs. Townsend and Olive, this left Shirley and her -father quite alone for a week. - -One of the evenings of that week Mr. Townsend spent with Joseph Bell--as -was now his frequent custom. On this evening Shirley settled down with -a book before the library fire. She had been working harder and harder -to perfect herself for the position which she had been assured should be -hers upon the resignation of Miss Henley, a fortnight hence. And she -had at last arrived at that state of confidence in her own powers which -permitted an occasional indulgence in an idle evening without a twinge -of conscience. - -The book proved so entertaining that an hour passed, during which she -took no note of time. She could not have told whether it was late or -early, when a slight stir in the hall brought her attention to the fact -that somebody was there, awaiting her recognition. She looked up to see -Peter Bell standing in the doorway, his face so grave and worn that she -gave a little cry of amazement. - -"Why, Peter!" she said, and came forward to give him her hand. He -looked down at her almost as if he did not see her. His hand was cold. - -"You 've been out in the wet--you 're chilled," she said, eagerly -drawing him toward the fire. "Why, you 're very wet! You did n't have -an umbrella." - -"I believe I did n't," Peter answered, glancing at his coat-sleeve, -which was, indeed, almost dripping with dampness. "I 've been walking a -long way--I don't know how far." - -He took the big armchair which she offered him, but she stood regarding -his moist condition with concern. His visits were too few to make her -willing to run the risk of losing this one by suggesting that he ought -not to sit down in his wet coat; and after a moment she ran away and -came back with a house coat of Murray's. - -"Please put this on," she said. - -Peter protested that he had no need of taking such precautions, but -Shirley persisted until he obeyed her and donned the coat, throwing his -own upon a chair, whence she rescued it and hung it where it might have -a chance to dry. - -"Now rest and be comfortable," said she, drawing her own small chair -into a friendly nearness to the big one, "and tell me what's wrong. It -needs to be told at once, I know--or I 'd try to talk about something -else first." - -"I'm afraid I couldn't talk about anything else first," said Peter. -"Yet I don't know that I can talk about this. But--I had to come. There -was no one else I could go to. I 've stood all the rest by myself, but -this----" - -He stopped short, as if he could not go on. Something about his -appearance made Shirley's heart begin to beat fast with apprehension. -It must be a very bad trouble indeed which could make Peter act so -unlike himself, Peter the strong, the self-reliant. - -Her mind went back in a flash to the day, weeks before, when he had half -promised to give her his confidence in regard to matters which it was -evident were bothering him. But he had not looked then in the least -like this. It had been merely business care which was heavy on his -shoulders at that time. This was trouble, or she did not know the -signs. His set face, upon which her welcome had brought no hint of an -answering smile, the lines about his mouth, the suggestion of pallor -which was already succeeding to the colour which had been the result of -the tramp in the rain, all made her sure of her conclusions. - -"I want to hear," began Shirley, very gently, controlling the anxiety in -her voice. Then, suddenly, as a startling thought occurred to her, -"Peter, it's not--Murray--or Jane?--or mother?" - -"No, no," said Peter, quickly, turning to her. "No, it's not your -trouble, it's mine--ours. Only the others don't know it yet. They must -n't know it till it--comes. That's why I came here. It' s not right to -burden you with it, I 'm afraid. But, somehow I----" - -Shirley impulsively put out her hand, as if to touch his. He did not -see it, and she withdrew it again. She longed to give him comfort in -some way. Yet, until the story was told, she could not tell what to do. -If only he would tell it quickly. But, plainly, it was hard to tell. - -He drew a deep breath; then sat up straight, staring into the fire. - -"There has been a long succession of misfortunes," he began, slowly. "I -don't need to go into those, though I thought them bad enough--until -now. Now--if it were nothing worse than those things, if I could just -go back to them, I 'd shoulder them all gladly, and not mind. It was -property business, all of it--foreclosure of a heavy mortgage -threatening Grandfather Bell's farm, loss of the little money father had -got together and put into stocks that have gone to pieces--that sort of -thing. It was up to me to straighten it all out--and not much to do it -with. And father--he seemed not very well--had two or three queer -attacks of illness at the factory during the hot weather. I felt I could -n't worry him with it. He seemed to be getting old--all at once. -Finally, yesterday----" - -Peter paused; then he went on in a lower voice: - -"Yesterday he had another of those attacks--much worse than before. A -man near him sent for me, and I sent for a doctor. The doctor brought -him round, but it took some time. To-day I made him go to another -doctor--a specialist. He examined father, and told me what it was." - -Shirley, in a breathless silence, waited. - -"Any over-exertion, excitement, worry--anything--may end it at any time. -If he would give up and stay quietly at home, he might last a good -while. But that's what he won't do. He knows it all--took it as coolly -as if it were nothing at all, but won't give up. And he won't have -anybody told. Says they 'd never know another happy moment--and that's -true enough. He 'll just take his chances. It's brave of him, and I can -understand how he feels, but the hard thing for me is--I 've got to keep -still, and stand by, and--see it come." - -With the last word Peter's voice almost broke. He turned his head away. -Shirley got up and went to him. She laid one hand on his shoulder, -standing still beside him, her heart aching with sympathy, but finding -not a word to say. In all his unhappiness, Peter recognised the light -touch, and putting up his cold hand grasped the warm one. He held it -tight for a minute, for the sense of comradeship and comprehension it -brought him gave him courage to go on. - -Shirley understood the warm and close relations which had always existed -between Peter and his father. And she realised, with a pang, that which -Peter had not mentioned, but which must add its share to the poignancy -of his apprehension--the fact that with the loss of the head of the -family, the burden of the support of that family must fall upon the -son's shoulders. Money problems were not to be mentioned in the same -breath with the threatened loss of a dear parent, but the anxiety they -were bound to cause would make Peter's trouble immeasurably more -serious. - -When Peter spoke his voice was steady again. - -"Of course I 'm facing nothing harder than other people have to face -every day, in one way or another. I mean to stand up to it, like a man, -if I can--it would n't be worthy of a chap with a father like mine to be -bowled over by what he bears with such courage. But it seemed to me I -must tell somebody, and you--something you said weeks ago, when we went -riding together, made me sure you would care." - -"I do care, very, very much," Shirley answered. "I 've wished ever so -many times since then that I knew what was the matter. If you had told -me that, it would have been easier for you to come to me with this, I -think. I 'm so glad you did. I only wish--oh, how I wish--there were -something I could do!" - -"You can. You 're doing it now. Just knowing you know makes it easier. -If there were anything I could do myself I could bear it better." - -She slipped out of the room. In a few minutes she came back, bearing a -tray, upon which was a cup of chocolate with a little mound of whipped -cream on top, and beside it a plate of sandwiches. She set her tray at -Peter's elbow. - -"Father is so fond of this, late in the evening, that Cook keeps a -double boiler ready on the back of the range, and the rest of us make -use of it," she explained. "You may not be hungry, but it will be good -for you. Tell me, did you have your supper?" - -"No, I haven't been home," he owned. "If a fellow could eat at all, he -ought to be able to eat this." - -To Shirley's satisfaction Peter consumed every one of the six thin -sandwiches, and when she suggested a second cup of chocolate, he -gratefully accepted it. He had been famishing, though he had not known -it. The interview with the specialist had taken place before lunch -time, and Peter had not remembered lunch at all. - -Being human, and very weary, creature comforts did their part in -strengthening him, in mind as well as body. When he had finished, and -had spent another half-hour listening to Shirley's account of news from -Forrest, who was in the West Indies now, he rose, a very different young -man from the one who had come in out of the rain an hour before. - -When he had exchanged the velvet house-coat for the rough tweed one, now -dried by the fire, he stood before her, hat in hand. He looked down -into her friendly uplifted face and something very appreciative showed -in his own. He could summon only the suggestion of a smile, but his -eyes were less heavy, his colour had come back, and resolution was once -more in his bearing. - -"You would put heart into a craven," he said, shaking hands. - -"You 're no craven," answered Shirley, returning the look steadily with -her frank eyes, "but one of the stoutest-hearted I ever knew. I know -lots more about you than you think, and I know what you have been facing -all these years in the way of sticking to work you did n't like." - -"That's nothing. Everybody does that, if he amounts to any thing." - -"Everybody doesn't. But it's made you strong and brave. You 're brave -now--and you 're going to be braver yet." - -He studied her a moment in silence. Then the smile she had missed shone -briefly out upon her as Peter said fervently: "If I am, it will be -thanks to you, my friend. Good night!" - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - A BREAKDOWN - - -"Now make her come!" commanded Marian Hille, as her brother Brant -brought his big green motor-car to a stand in front of the great -building belonging to Townsend & Company. "Don't let her refuse. How -she can spend her days down here, drudging away, I don't see! Brant, -tell her I shall simply never forgive her if she does n't shut up that -typewriter at once and come along." - -"I 'll say what seems to me to suit the situation," declared her -brother, sliding out of his seat and divesting himself of his motoring -coat. "Whether it will make any impression I 'm not so sure." - -He walked leisurely off, but when he was inside the building he made a -short trip of it to the fifth floor and the offices. He was quite as -anxious as his sister for the success of his errand. - -Murray himself welcomed young Hille cordially, and when Brant asked for -Shirley, he led his visitor into an inner office. Here Brant stood -still, gazing with interest. He had not yet seen his old acquaintance -at her new tasks. - -Shirley sat before a typewriting machine, her fingers playing as lightly -and swiftly over the keys, for all Brant could see, as those of any -veteran at the business. The girl did not look up. Plainly she was much -absorbed in her work, a little flush on her cheek, her eyes devouring -the "copy" before her in the shape of her note-book, held open by a -device above her machine. - -Brant turned to look at Murray, and Murray smiled. - -"She looks as if she enjoyed it!" Brant exclaimed, under his breath. - -"She does. No question of that." - -"It 'll wear off, don't you think?" - -"I doubt it." - -He walked over and stood at her elbow, waiting. Shirley paid him no -attention while she finished the long business letter before her, and -she would not have turned then if her brother had not said quietly, "A -caller is waiting to see you, Miss Townsend." - -Then she glanced up, and rose, pulling a glove finger from the -forefinger of her right hand before she let the visitor take it. "I -still seem to give this finger a bit of extra work," she said smiling. - -Brant said a complimentary thing or two in recognition of her -businesslike command of the typewriter, and then proceeded to put his -case. - -As she knew, a November house party was in progress at the Hildreth's -country place, eighteen miles out. He and Marian had come in on an -errand, and were going back. A particularly jolly evening was in -prospect. Somebody had suggested that the Hilles bring Shirley back -with them, just for the evening. They felt she owed them that much, -after so resolutely declining the original invitation for the entire -week. Would she not go? It was a rare evening for early November, the -air mild, the moon magnificent, the roads like a floor. - -The Hildreths wanted her to stay the night; but Brant would rise with -the lark and bring her back to town before breakfast, that she might not -miss so much as a semicolon of her day's work. Or--as Shirley continued -to look doubtful--he urged that, if she preferred, he would actually get -her back to-night. Some of the married people would drive in with them -for the sake of the run in the moonlight. Please! - -"Go, Shirley, and have a fine time," said her brother. - -She was only human--and a girl--after all, and after many weeks of close -and serious work the prospect of the little spin of an hour's duration, -with the "jolly evening," appealed to her. Smiling at Brant's last -proposition, Shirley yielded. - -"I shall have to go to the house first," she said, setting the cover on -her machine and putting away her work. The clock already indicated the -end of the working-day in the Townsend office. - -"Of course. We 'll take you right up in a jiffy." And Brant led the -way to the elevator, his soul filled with satisfaction. - -The green car was shortly _chug-chugging_ in front of the Townsend -house, while Shirley ran up to exchange her office clothes for the -pretty dull red silk frock which seemed to her to fit the November -evening. - -A sense of exhilaration took possession of her as she pulled on her long -driving-coat, and pinned in place the close hat and swathing gray veil -which made her ready for the swift drive in the autumn air. To be -really a working girl, and yet not to be shut out from an occasional -taste of this sort of pleasure--it was certainly a pleasant combination. -And Shirley had accomplished one of the best day's works that she had -yet done, and felt as if she had earned whatever of jollity the evening -might have in store for her. - -"Well, I'm certainly thankful to see you acting like one of us again, if -only for a few hours," asserted "Marie Anne," as they whirled away. -"Shirley Townsend in a blue serge at four o'clock in the afternoon is an -extraordinary sight. Now you look like yourself again. What have you -got on? That Indian-red silk? When you like a thing you like it -forever, don't you? I wonder how many times you came down to dinner -last winter at Miss Cockburn's in that red silk!" - -"Don't be brutal, Marian!" called her brother, over his shoulder. "As -if it made any difference what she wears as long as she comes with us! -Besides, I haven't seen the red silk." - -But Shirley was only smiling at Marian's comments on her attire. She -had not summered and wintered Miss Hille as a room-mate for two years in -the English school not to have become inured to her style of intimate -criticism. Besides, she knew perfectly that that Indian-red silk frock -had been her friend's envy for the first six weeks of its existence, on -account of its beauty and the way it became Shirley's colouring. - -It does not take long for a motor-car of high horse-power driven by a -young man with the usual dash of daring in his composition to cover -eighteen miles of smooth roadway, and it was not yet six o'clock when -the car shot up to the entrance of the Hildreth's country place. Half a -dozen young people, returning from the golf links, hurried up to welcome -Shirley Townsend back to the ranks of the pleasure-seekers, and she was -borne into the house on a little wave of good-fellowship and merriment -which she could not help decidedly enjoying. - -"It's a shame to think of that girl throwing herself away on the sort of -fad she 's taken up!" growled Somers Hildreth to Brant Hille, as the two -came in, after dressing for dinner, to find Shirley Townsend the centre -of a gay group before the great fireplace, which was the heart of the -country house. - -"I wonder what fault Marian had to find with that dress," Brant was -thinking, as he caught its gleam in the firelight and saw the sparkling -eyes and warm-tinted cheeks above it. "If she is n't by long odds the -finest girl in that crowd I 'll go without my dinner." But aloud he -responded, calmly, "It does n't seem to have dulled her charms. She -never looked more as if she found things worth while, did she?" - -"That's reaction," declared the other young man. "Shut any girl up in a -cage, and she'll stretch her wings when she gets out. It will tell on -her after a while, though, if she keeps it up. But she won't. That -goes without saying." - -"Don't you fool yourself!" muttered Brant, adopting Murray Townsend's -view of the matter. - -Shirley, indeed, did not look like a girl who was accustomed to adopt -courses, only to abandon them when weary. Whatever her views of the -"things worth while," she certainly enjoyed that evening. Those who had -sent for her congratulated themselves on their foresight. - -Without making herself in any way a conspicuous figure, or appearing to -take the lead, Shirley's very presence seemed somehow to bring about -that result most desirable to a hostess, the making things "go." The -young people had been together for five successive evenings, and had -about exhausted their resources and those of their entertainers in the -way of diversion. But with Shirley Townsend's softly brilliant eyes -looking on, her spirited mouth curving into mischief or merriment, her -appreciative comments spurring them, the young men of the party at least -found themselves stimulated to their best achievement, and exerted -themselves to bring the response of her pleasure. - -As for the girls, they all liked her, although not without here and -there a touch of envy at the success of a style so free from affectation -that nobody could accuse its possessor of not being genuine. - -"You can't say you 're not having a good time," urged Hille, cornering -Shirley as the evening went on. - -"There 's no reason why I should want to say it. I 'm having a -delightful time." - -"I thought it was part of your code, from now on, to enjoy nothing but -hard labour." - -Her laugh rang out softly. - -"You did n't believe anything of the sort. If all work and no play make -Jack a dull boy, what would they do to Jill? She would be unendurable." - -"She would. But anybody would have taken alarm at sight of you to-day, -over your typewriter. You looked as if you were nothing short of carried -away with it. You did n't so much as notice I was in the room." - -"I 'm not supposed to notice people who come into Murray's office. I -learned that at once, by watching Miss Henley. While I 'm there I 'm to -be merely an intelligent machine." - -"'Machine' doesn't strike me as exactly the word--in your case. As for -the 'intelligence'--I suppose Townsend & Company are very exacting. Do -you suppose they 'd take me on the force?" - -"You!" It seemed to amuse her very much. - -Brant looked nettled. He had asked the question in sport, but he did -not like to be taken that way. "Look here, am I such a joke as that?" - -"The notion of your working for anybody, even for yourself, is very -interesting." - -"You think I 'm not capable?" - -"I think the mere thought of going to an office every morning at nine -o'clock would be too much for you." - -"You must have a pretty poor opinion of me." - -"Not at all. But you have never needed to work, never expect to need to -work, and have never shown the first sign of intending to work. Why -shouldn't the idea of your working seem strange?" - -"I might have said the same of you a few months ago." Brant was getting -red. - -"So you might. But I 'm a girl." - -"Does my being a man--I'm twenty-four--make it a foregone conclusion -that I should roll up my sleeves and tackle a shovel and pick, whether I -need the money or not?" - -Shirley surveyed him. "No, I don't think it does--_with you_." - -The red which had begun to show above Brant's collar now spread toward -his ears, extended his forehead, and finally suffused his entire face. -He broke out hotly: "Look here, you used not to be sharp-tongued like -that. If your taking up this sort of thing is going to make you not mind -how you cut your friends, it 's my opinion you 'd be better at your -embroidery." - -Shirley bit her lip with a mischievous desire to say something which -would make the angry gleam in his eyes light up still more vividly. She -and Brant had played together and quarreled and made up since their -nursery days, and this retort, which she would have resented from -anybody else, merely delighted her from Brant. - -She liked to wake him up, and considered that hurting his feelings on -the score of his idleness was both salutary and justifiable. Ever since -she had returned she had been feeling more and more annoyed with him for -seeming to settle down so unconcernedly to a life of absolute ease and -the spending of his share of the estate left him by a father who had -toiled a lifetime to get his property together. - -But she did not intend to be led into a serious argument with him now -and here, nor did she wish to make him like her less on account of her -new method of employing her time. She liked him for many good points, -and she was rather wiser than most girls in perceiving when she had said -enough. So after an instant's silence, she asked, with a bright glance, -disarming because unexpected, "Shall we call it even?" - -"Did my shot about the embroidery hit?" Brant exulted. - -"Hard. It doesn't matter that I don't know how to embroider." - -"Not in the least. Yes, I 'll call it even, though I got the worst of -it. I was mad enough to bite something a minute ago, but you always did -have a way of making a chap double up his fists, and then open them -again, feeling foolish. Oh, here comes Mrs. Hildreth. You don't want to -go back to-night, do you?" - -"I 'll wait till morning. But we must be off early. I would n't miss -being on time for a week's salary." - -"Before breakfast?" - -"Of course--if they'll let us. We'll have breakfast at home; the early -morning run will make us hungry." - -"It certainly will. See here, we don't have to get anybody up to go in -with us, do we?" - -Shirley looked doubtful. "I 'm afraid we do." - -"Then I 'd rather take you in to-night," said Brant, promptly. "We 'll -fill up the car with chaperons, and you can sit in front with me. They -'ll be tickled to go, in this moonlight. I 'll ask Mrs. Hildreth and -Miss Armitage; they 'll discuss dressmakers all the way in and leave us -in peace." - -Shirley let him arrange it, personally much preferring to reach home -that night and get up at the usual hour in the morning, with an interval -between her pleasure-making and her work. The hour was not late, and -Brant professed to be able to make incredibly quick time, so he had no -difficulty in arranging his party. - -There were many sallies at Shirley's expense as her friends saw her -depart. Her devotion to business was considered a caprice, likely at -any time to give way to more rational behaviour, and she was assured of -an enthusiastic welcome back to the company of sane beings when her -"craze" should be over. She went away smiling at the thought of how -little they understood her, and with a sense of having at hand resources -of contentment at which they could not even guess. - -With an empty road ahead, and the moonlight making all things clear, -Brant sent his car humming. In the rush of air caused by their flight, -all four travellers stopped talking, and it was upon a silence hitherto -disturbed only by the muffled mechanism of the car that the startling -_bang_ of an exploding tire woke the echoes. - -"Confound the luck!" burst from the young man in the driver's seat, as -he brought the machine to a standstill. "That means stop and repair -right here. We can't run her in on her rim. We 're not half way." - -Shirley looked about her. Ten rods away, its big barns looming against -the sky, its white house showing clearly in the moonlight, lay the farm -of Mr. Elihu Bell, the grandfather of her friends. Although it was -after eleven o'clock, there were lights showing in windows which she -knew belonged to the front room of the farm-house. - -"Shall you need help?" she asked, as Brant threw open the box which held -his repair kit. "The noise has brought somebody to the door over there. -It 's the Bell farm--my sister Jane's grandfather, you know." - -"Is it? Then we'll pull over there into the yard, and you people can go -inside, since they seem to be up. It may take me quite a while to get -out of this scrape. I 'm not much of a mechanic, and I 've been lucky -enough not to puncture many tires." - -He got in again, and ran the car slowly over to the open gate of the -Bell place. As he turned in, the two figures which had been standing in -the doorway came out and crossed the yard. - -Shirley recognized them both, one tall and slim, with the slight stoop -and characteristic walk of age; the other also tall, but -broad-shouldered and erect. She wondered what Peter Bell could be doing -out here, calling on his grandfather at this late hour, and then -remembered that Peter's time was so full by day that he must needs make -his visits by night. She thought of the mortgage he had spoken of, and -surmised that the visit, prolonged past the hour when farmhouses are -usually dark and silent, was on business. - -"Well, well!" called the kindly voice of the old man. "Broke down, have -you? Anything we can do? Your lights are brighter than any we can -furnish you." - -Peter came close. "Will the ladies come into the house?" he asked. He -could not see who they were. - -Mrs. Hildreth and Miss Armitage accepted the offer, for the November air -was not so mild as it had been during the day, and they had no great -confidence in Brant's ability to repair his own machine. - -Peter offered a helping hand. When the older ladies were out, he turned -to the girl on the front seat. She sprang down, and stood still before -him. She had pulled her gray veil closely about her face, and she spoke -in a muffled whisper: "Guess who I am." - -[Illustration: "SHE SPRANG DOWN, AND STOOD STILL BEFORE HIM"] - -Peter glanced toward Brant, who had now come around into the glare from -his own headlights. Peter knew Brant, as anyone must who was included -in the entertaining done in the Townsend house. But it had always been -many leagues farther to Gay Street from the Hille home on the north side -of Worthington Square than from that of Murray and Shirley Townsend on -the south side. - -"I'm afraid I can't guess," admitted Peter, who thought he knew that -Shirley was at home that night, having noted a light in her window when, -at nine o'clock, he had mounted his bicycle to make the trip to -Grandfather Bell's. Her figure in the long coat and shrouding veil was -not familiar to him, and the whisper had conveyed no note of Shirley's -real tones. - -"Then you shall never know," the sepulchral whisper assured him, and he -found some difficulty in holding his hand from the desire forcibly to -remove the provoking veil. The possibility that it was his sister Jane -caused him to estimate sharply the height of the figure before him. - -It was a little too tall for Jane, and Peter was about to hazard a guess -that it was one of the least formidable of the girls of Shirley's set -whom he occasionally met at her home, when Brant Hille called out, -annoyance sounding in his voice: - -"You 'd better go in with the others, Shirley--this is going to take -time. I 've got to put on a new tire--worse luck!" - -Peter's fingers grasped the veil and gently pulled it aside from the -laughing face beneath, "No wonder you wanted to hide!" he jeered, under -his breath. "A working-girl like you, off on midnight larks like this, -with to-morrow ahead." - -But there was a distinct hint of pleasure in his voice at the discovery -of her here, thrown upon his hospitality. He led her away to the house, -within whose open door the other ladies had disappeared. - -"Grandmother has gone to bed long ago," he said, as they came up on the -porch, "and I don't think I 'll disturb her. She 's deaf and won't -hear, and she needs her sleep. But I can get you all something hot to -drink, and something to eat, too, if there 's much delay." - -Shirley presented him to Mrs. Hildreth and Miss Armitage, who were -already making themselves at home in the low-ceiled, pleasant -living-room which lay all across the front of the farm-house. A dying -fire reddened the hearth, which Peter soon revived into a blaze. Then -he went in search of refreshments. Thereafter, returning to the scene -of the breakdown, he rendered Brant valuable assistance, proving handier -at the process of replacing the injured tire than Brant himself. When -they finally had done the work, and Brant pulled out his watch with a -hand black with dirt and grease, he gave an exclamation of dismay. - -"One A.M., by all that's unfortunate! Better let me take you back to -Longacre, Shirley, and get you home comfortably in the morning. What -difference does it make if you do miss part of a day?" - -"Leave her here," said Mr. Elihu Bell. "We 'll take care of her -to-night, and I 'll drive in with her in the morning, bright and early. -That's the best way out, and you people can go back and go to bed. -Grandma 'll be mightily pleased to wake up in the morning and find the -little girl here." - -Feeling it the simplest solution of a situation which was involving -somebody's sacrifice, whatever she did, Shirley accepted the offer. -Brant did not feel altogether pleased over driving away and leaving her -standing on the porch beside Peter, but he was decidedly weary with his -exercise, and sleepy after two brimming glasses of milk, and he resigned -his charge with one murmured speech: "Shows what a fool thing it is for -a girl like you to play at holding down a business position. You can't -be either one thing or the other with any comfort, and it even gets your -friends into trouble." - -This surly farewell was punished by the girl's gay rejoinder: - -"I suppose it was the weight of your cares that was too much for the -car! I 'm sorry, and I 'll promise not to run away from my work -again--with you." - -When the car was off, Peter promptly brought round his bicycle. "This -is n't quite so imposing a conveyance as Hille's automobile," he said, -standing at the foot of the steps and looking up at Shirley, "and I -can't invite anybody to share it with me and ride home. But it's very -convenient for these little runs out to the farm, and I 'm glad I -happened to be here to-night. Somehow, just the sight of you, without -any chance to talk, does me good." - -"If that is true, I should think you might take advantage of living so -near just a bit oftener than you do. Do you know how long it is since -you 've been over?" - -"It seems six months to me," said Peter, smiling. - -"It is six weeks. Are you so busy all your evenings?" - -"Pretty busy. And I spend what little spare time I can make with -father." - -"Of course," she agreed, gently. "But I think you need a little more -change of scene than you get." - -"I 'd like it. But I can't be bothering a girl like you with -entertaining an old chap like me." - -"An old chap!" mused Shirley. "Is that the way you feel?" - -"I was feeling forty, at least--till the tire blew up. Then I came down -to thirty. When I found the girl under the veil, I dropped off several -years more. But when I looked at that boy Hille I became a patriarch -again." - -"I wish he could hear you call him a boy! Suppose I give you a special -invitation, and run the risk of your bothering me, will you accept it?" - -"In a hurry!" - -"Your first spare evening then?" - -"You tempt me to cut everything and come to-morrow night. No--I 'll -wait a decent interval, to let you get caught up after this midnight -dissipation. May I come early?" - -"The earlier the better." - -"And you won't invite anybody else to help make it jolly for me? The -last time I ventured over you had a roomful." - -"I 'll invite nobody. Come, Peter Bell--do you know I 'm being much -nicer to you than I ordinarily am to anybody? I let mother and Olive do -the inviting, and I just look demure, as if I did n't care." - -"You do care, then, this time?" - -"It's time you were off, is n't it?" and she retreated, laughing, to the -open door. - -Peter looked back at her, an alluring figure, with the lamplight falling -over the dull red silk of her frock, and wished he need not go at all. -But Grandfather Bell's tall form appeared just behind Shirley's. This -was an unheard-of hour for Grandfather Bell. So, with a friendly good -night and a warm feeling at his heart, Peter bestrode his wheel and was -off down the moonlit road toward home. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - CHRISTMAS GREENS - - -"Jane, I've the most charming plan in my head for Christmas week you -ever heard of." - -"Have you, Shirley dear? And are you going to tell it to me?" - -"I am, indeed. Listen. Let's take cook and Norah, and go--all of us, -your houseful and ours--and spend part of holiday week at Grasslands." - -"Shirley! You take my breath away! Could we do it? Would n't it be -fun if we could?" - -"I don't see a thing in the way. When I stayed overnight, in November, -your Grandmother Bell said she wished she could get her family together -once more at Christmas there, instead of going in to have dinner in Gay -Street, as they 've been doing since your family went to live in town. -She said she 'd like to have us all if she were younger again, but she -has no 'help,' and thought it would be a pity to ask us, and then have -your mother and Nan do the work. I 've thought about it ever so many -times since, but this idea has only just popped into my head." - -"I should think it could be done," mused Jane. "There are rooms and -rooms at the farm, and little open wood-stoves in every one. You and I -could go out the day before, and get everything aired and ready." - -"What if you and Mrs. Bell and Nan and I went, without telling any of -the men? I 'm to have Christmas week for my first vacation, you know. -Then when they came home in the evening, have a bouncing big sleigh -ready to carry them off to the farm, and a jolly supper waiting? Then a -tree that night, and Christmas next day, with coasting and skating and -snowballing, if the weather is right?" - -"You artful child!" exclaimed Jane. "It would do us all heaps of -good--especially father and mother. Father looks to me so worn and -tired. Have you noticed it?" - -Shirley nodded. She had indeed noticed it, and a deep-laid plot, having -for its beneficiary Mr. Joseph Bell, was at the back of the planning. -But she did not intend that anybody should find that out. So she agreed -lightly that Jane's father needed a holiday, as did all the others. - -"If we can't get any of them to take more than Christmas day, we can at -least bring them out there every night and back every morning," she -said. "We 'll give them such good things to eat they won't mind the -drive. With Grandfather Bell's big horses, all jingly with -sleigh-bells, they certainly won't. Oh, will you go and speak to Cook -now? I simply can't wait to get things under way." - -"Do you mean to surprise Grandmother Bell, too?" - -"Yes, if your grandfather agrees, as I 'm sure he will. If we told her -she 'd tire herself all out, doing wholly unnecessary things. -Everything in the house is always in apple-pie order, but she would n't -think so." - -"You 're quite right, I think. I 'll go and talk with Cook"--and Jane -hurried away, looking as girlishly eager as Shirley herself. - -She had small doubt of Cook. If Mrs. Murray Townsend had a friend in -the house, it was Bridget. Mrs. Harrison Townsend had never considered -Bridget a particularly amiable person, but Jane had won her completely -by treating her always with consideration, and by showing the interest -in her affairs, which is appreciated most by those who expect it least. - -"Sure, then, we 'll go, Mrs. Murray, and take it as a holiday," agreed -Cook, when her young mistress had explained her plans. "And we 'll take -some of the fixings with us they 'll not be havin' at the farm." - -During the week that intervened before Christmas, Shirley's head was so -full of her schemes that for the first time since her initiation into -office work she had considerable difficulty in keeping her mind upon her -tasks. Christmas fell upon a Tuesday that year, fortunately for her -plans, so after Saturday noon she was free to give her mind to the -pleasures in prospect. Mrs. Bell and Nancy had agreed enthusiastically -to every detail of the arrangements, and Grandfather Bell, when -cautiously consulted over the telephone and urged to keep it all a -secret from his wife, had responded as joyously as a boy that the party -might occupy every nook and corner of the house and have things all -their own way, if they would only come. - -It proved necessary to let somebody into the plan at the last, in order -that the men, returning to their homes on Monday evening, should be -directed what to do. Rufus was selected for this office, an appointment -which tickled him so that it was with difficulty he kept from bursting -out with his secret. At night he was first at home, and as the others -one by one arrived, he haled them to their rooms, bade them make -themselves ready in short order, and surreptitiously packed away several -travelling bags in the recesses of Grandfather Bell's capacious -market-wagon, now on runners and fitted with seats. - -"What on earth does it all mean?" asked Murray, taking his seat in the -sleigh in which the energetic Rufus had stowed the male members of his -own family, amidst a storm of questions and surmises, accompanied by -much good humoured raillery at his own quite evident excitement. - -"It means that you 're kidnapped, and may never see home again," -responded Rufus, tucking a hot soapstone under his father's feet, for -the night was sharp, and Shirley's orders imperative. "Warm, daddy? -Want an extra rug over you? I 've enough here to wrap up a party of -elephants." - -"I'm very comfortable," Mr. Bell replied. His shoulder rested against -Peter's, and Peter's arm lay along the low back of the seat behind him. -Mr. Bell always felt a comfortable sense of support and protection when -Peter was near--and Peter generally was near in these days. The elder -man well understood why, and appreciated the devotion which showed -itself in acts rather than in words. - -"I've only one objection to make," declared Ross, as the sleigh moved -briskly off, driven by Grandfather Bell's next neighbour, a man who did -odd jobs for him when needed, and worked for him steadily during the -summers. "I 'm hungry as a bear, and don't want to go more than fifty -miles to supper." - -"It would pay you to go a hundred, judging by my observations," asserted -Rufus, from among the fur robes at Ross's feet. "And we 'll be there in -a jiffy. Don't these boys go, though? They must get fed plenty of -oats." - -"They certainly do," agreed the driver. "Elihu Bell is n't the man to -starve his horses, let alone humans." - -"That's encouraging," and Murray, who also boasted a vigorous appetite, -fell to conjecturing, after the manner of hungry man, what supper at the -farm would be like. He knew nothing of the arrangements that had been -made, and felt rather doubtful whether anything could take the place of -the dinner of Jane's planning he had expected to find at home. - -The ten miles were covered in a little more than an hour, for the -sleighing was good, and the driver anxious to show what his horses could -do. As they turned in at the gate and drew up at the side porch, they -saw that the old house was aglow from top to bottom with lights in every -window. At the jingle of their bells the door flew hospitably open, -although no one was in sight, and only the roaring fire in the wide -fireplace opposite the door seemed on hand to give them a welcome. - -"It looks Christmas-sy enough in there, does n't it?" said Ross, -catching sight of holly branches and ropes of ground-pine adorning the -chimney-piece, and holly wreaths tied with scarlet ribbons in the -windows. - -"Well, well!" ejaculated Mr. Joseph Bell, slowly, as Peter gently pushed -him ahead into the room, and his eyes fell upon a tree, its top touching -the low ceiling, its branches twinkling with candles and loaded with -packages. He blinked with astonishment, and sat abruptly down in the -first chair that offered, looking as pleased as a boy. - -"Where are they all?" and Rufus, putting his hands to his mouth, gave a -ringing hail. - -"Merry Christmas!" responded a chorus of gay voices, and a curtain fell -aside. Grandmother Bell, her rosy old face beaming, advanced with -outstretched hand, her husband close behind her. In the background -appeared Mrs. Joseph Bell, Jane, Shirley and Nancy, all in white -dresses, with holly berries gleaming in their hair. - -"This is the best surprise ever heard of!" cried Peter, stooping to kiss -Grandmother Bell's soft, wrinkled cheek, and then turning to wring his -grandfather's hand. "This beats Christmas in town all to nothing." - -"It _is_ jolly!" and Murray saluted the old lady in his turn, for he was -a favourite with her, not only because he was Jane's husband, but -because, from the first, he had taken pains to be very good to her. He -smiled at Jane as he stood straight again, thinking she had never looked -prettier than she did to-night. But Murray was apt to think that, -wherever he first caught sight of her after a day's absence. - -"I 've been trying all day," said Ross, as he greeted the old people, -"to make myself realise this was Christmas eve. But from this hour all -difficulty leaves me. I smell Christmas in the air." - -"It's the pumpkin pies, and mince, and doughnuts, and plum pudding you -smell," laughed Nancy. - -"The greens smell sweet and Christmas-sy, too," said Shirley. "We had -such fun gathering them this morning. It seemed a pity to do it by -ourselves." - -"If I 'd known of it, I should have blown out through the factory roof -and landed over in grandfather's woods!" declared Peter, coming up to -shake hands. "Woods in winter! And to-morrow's a holiday! Are we to -stay? I thought I fell over a grip as I got out of the sleigh." - -"Indeed you are--for four days." - -"Four days! I only wish I could!" - -"You can--evenings and nights and mornings." - -"Do you mean it? Are we invited?" - -"We are." - -"Who thought this magnificent scheme up?" demanded Peter. "Ah, you 're -blushing! I might have----" - -"I 've been out in the cold air more than half the day," and Shirley -covered one brilliant cheek with her hand. "Are n't you hungry?" - -"Famishing!" - -"We 're to have supper right away. Your grandmother calls it supper, -and Cook calls it dinner." - -"Cook!" - -"She 's here." - -"Well, of all the----" - -But Peter had to be hurried away by his sister Nancy to his room--his -old room upstairs under the eaves, where he found his hand-bag awaiting -him, and a brisk fire snapping in the old box stove. For the time -being, he felt he could let himself forget that the old roof was -encumbered by a heavy mortgage, due in six weeks now, and held by a man -who had long coveted that farm. It was Christmas. - -The meal spread in the long, low dining-room, to which a merry company -presently sat down, was a delicious one. Grandmother Bell's old -blue-and-white Canton plates and cups had never been more delectably -filled, nor had her antique silver forks and spoons clinked to a -livelier measure than the talk and laughter which went round as the -supper proceeded. - -"Does it seem like home here?" Shirley asked Mr. Joseph Bell. - -"Home?" said he, with a glance from the old prints upon the walls to the -antique side table below, with its turned-up leaf. "It's the only place -in the world that will ever really seem like home to me. It 's just a -makeshift, living in the city, to people who were brought up on a place -like this. You see, though I went away from here when I was a young -man, and lived a long time in the city, working up in the paper factory, -we came back here again and stayed five years, while the children were -little, on account of a breakdown in my health. Then when I grew strong -again, we moved back and settled in Gay Street. But the farm is -home--always will be. My wife feels the same way, though she was a city -girl. She 'd like to live here now as much as ever." - -"I don't wonder. It's one of the pleasantest farm-houses I ever saw." -And Shirley smiled across the table at Peter as she spoke, meeting his -eyes as he glanced from his father's face to hers, well pleased to see -the elder man looking as if heartily enjoying himself. - -"The tree is only to look at this evening," announced Jane, when they -were all back in the living-room. "Nothing is to be taken off it till -to-morrow evening." - -"And we're to be tantalised all that while? I 'm willing to see it shorn -of its fruit any time after I 've made a quick trip to town--which will -be the first thing to-morrow morning," said Murray, with a meaning wink -at Peter, who nodded, comprehending. - -Rufus grinned at his father, and a general spirit of understanding -appeared to prevail among the guests, who had been brought away to the -party without a chance to get together the parcels they had stowed in -sundry secret places. - -"We 're glad you 're so clever at seeing our reasons for delay," said -Nancy, gazing up into the thick branches of the tree, her eye upon -various packages of her own, all tied in the same way, so that they were -easily recognisable. She had worked for months over her gifts, having -little money to spend, but possessing much love and ten skilful fingers. - -"Meanwhile we must have something doing this evening," said Rufus. -"What shall it be?" - -"How will making candy suit your zest for sport?" asked Jane. - -"Bully! We haven't made candy since we grew up--not real candy. I -don't count Nan's caramels and Shirley's fudge. Let's make some real -old-fashioned molasses candy, and _pull_ it!" - -"What else, at the old farm? As soon as the kitchen is clear we 'll go -out," and Jane disappeared, to hasten operations in the kitchen by tying -on an apron and wiping dishes herself with Norah. Her blithe talk, -while her fingers flew, kept both Cook and Norah smiling while they -worked, and the big farm-house kitchen was soon in spotless order. - -"It does be after doin' me good to work in a place like this again," -declared Cook, as she helped Jane measure out molasses and get the big -kettle on. "It's not that I don't like the tiles and the copper and all -the conveniences of my kitchen in the city. But when a person has been -brought up in the country, there 's always the fondness clingin' to them -for the old ways, even if they 're a bit inconvenient. See the gourd -dipper, now, Norah. Will you say that water does n't taste better out -of it than from granite ware?" - -"I never saw a dipper like this before," answered Norah, who had been -born in town, and could hardly share Cook's enthusiasm for these details -of country living. - -"_She_ knows what I mean," said Cook, with a nod of the head after her -young mistress, just departing. "Sure, I have n't seen such a sparkle -in the eyes of her since she came to live at the house. She 's not born -to be a great lady, just a home-keeping one. And that's the best sort, -to my mind." - -Then she beckoned Norah away, and they fled up the back stairs, just as -the sounds of approaching feet warned them that the company were coming. - -"Jolly! This is the stuff!" exulted Rufus, bursting first into the -kitchen. "Doesn't that smell like the real thing? Tie an apron on me -and let me take charge of the kettle. The rest of you can grease tins. -I 'll offer a prize for the whitest candy. Secure your partners for the -pulling!" - -"May I have the honour?" and Peter made his best bow to Shirley as she -appeared from the pantry, her hands full of shining tins. - -"Of course you may, if you 'll show me how. I never pulled candy in my -life." - -"Your education has been appallingly insufficient, in spite of those two -years in England. But I used to be pretty good at it, and we 'll take -the prize if you follow directions. Please begin by taking off those -rings!" commanded Peter. - -Shirley obediently slipped off several pretty rings. Then she tied on a -small and frivolous apron, at which Peter frowned. - -"Do you call that absurdity of lace and ribbons an apron?" he demanded. -"What do you suppose will happen to it if you drop a hunk of candy in -the sticky stage on it? Here, I 'll get you one of grandma's--they 're -worth something." Shirley presently found herself invested in a -bountifully made apron of checked white material, with a bib and -strings, which nearly covered her from sight. "Now you're safe--and so -is the candy. The minute it's fairly cool, we 'll seize a generous -portion and get away to some cool spot with it." - -It was some time before this stage in the operations was reached, and -meanwhile Peter found himself obliged to share his partner with Ross and -Rufus, who had no idea of allowing monopolies, with no other girls -present but Nancy. - -The elder people, however, proved themselves nearly as good company as -the younger ones, for everybody seemed to have adopted the spirit of the -season and to be ready for as much fun-making as possible. And to the -great satisfaction of both Peter and Shirley, not the least care-free of -the company seemed Mr. Joseph Bell himself. - -To Peter, especially, watching his father with an eye which took note, -as the others could not, the very evident relaxation and refreshment of -the occasion were a source of deep satisfaction. For once the son felt -that he could himself relax and dare to get out of the hour all the joy -there was in it. Happiness of this sort could not hurt, he was sure. It -could only help. - -"Our panful is cool enough!" declared Peter, flourishing the -blue-and-white-checked gingham apron which veiled his long legs, as he -returned from the porch, where the candy had been cooling. "Now, -partner, hands buttered, courage good? Stand ready to take hold when I -say the word, I 'll work the lump into malleable condition. Open the -door into the wood-shed, please. We 'll do our pulling there, if it's -not too cool for you; then we 'll not get stuck." - -"_Ooh-h-h!_" Shirley gave a little shriek as Peter presently, with a -deft pull of his big lump into a long, smooth skein, handed her one end -with the injunction to draw it out quickly and swing it back to him. -"But it's hot!" - -"Of course it is, Miss Tender-Fingers! If we let it get comfortably -cool we could n't pull it at all. Keep hold--keep it moving. Don 't -let it stay in your fingers long enough to stick. -Pull--swing--pull--swing! Hold on! You're getting stuck! Wait a -minute!" - -"I can't do anything but wait!" gasped Shirley, holding up ten fingers -hopelessly embedded in a mass of uncomfortably warm material. - -"What! Can this be the expert stenographer, all balled up in a couple -of quarts of molasses? Hold still! Don't try to work out. I 'll pull -you loose. Don't let the others see. Keep away from that kitchen -door!" - -But Rufus, pulling smoothly away from Jane, with the art acquired by -much practice in past years, spied out the tangled ones. His shout of -laughter brought all the others toward the wood-shed door. - -Shirley and Peter were obliged to return to the kitchen to obtain butter -for the stuck-up fingers. They fell into a state of great merriment -over the situation, in which everybody else joined appreciatively, and -the old kitchen rafters rang with the laughter. - -"Where would the stage apron be now? This is no gallery play!" jeered -Peter, rescuing one long string of brownish-yellow sweetness from the -front of Shirley's big white apron. "Want a taste? Shut your eyes and -open your mouth!" - -"No, thank you. Eat it yourself." - -"I will," and Peter tipped back his head. - -At this interesting moment the door between dining-room and kitchen -swung open. A figure appeared upon the threshold--a figure clad in silk -and furs, topped by a Parisian bonnet. Over its shoulder showed the -heads of two others--one wearing a wonderful hat covered with fine black -ostrich-plumes, the other its own thin thatch of short, iron-gray hair. - -"We have found you at last!" said the voice of Mrs. Harrison Townsend. - -Behind her, Olive burst into a musical peal of laughter. - -"Look at Shirley, mother! Don't you think it's about time we came home -to prevent her quite returning to childhood?" - -Then Mr. Harrison Townsend, from the background:--"This is rather -stealing a march on you, good friends. But we found our own house -dark--and this is Christmas eve!" - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - PETER READS RHYMES - - -"Stay? Of course you'll stay!" declared Grandfather Bell to Mr. and -Mrs. Townsend. "It'll do you good after all your junketing, and we'll be -mightily pleased to have you." - -It had not taken much persuasion. There certainly was a charm pervading -the old farmhouse, and the thought of resting quietly there for a few -days appealed to Mrs. Townsend. Her husband was delighted at the plan, -for he had been persuaded to join his wife abroad, and several months of -European travel had wearied him. Everything simple and homelike -attracted him now more than ever. It had been his restlessness which -had brought his party home a month before the date originally set for -their return. - -If there had been a goodly number of packages upon the Christmas tree on -Christmas eve, there were more than double that number by the evening of -Christmas day. Not only had Murray and Peter made an excursion to town, -but Mrs. Townsend, mindful of many intended gifts stored away in her -trunks, had sent Olive in with the others to get them. - -When the Christmas dinner was over, Rufus proposed that the clan go out -for an hour's skating on a pond not far away. "We can enjoy that tree a -lot better if we have some good brisk exercise beforehand," he asserted. - -"I don't skate," said Olive, looking as if she wished she did. - -"Come along with us just the same," urged Ross, "and we 'll take turns, -not exactly 'sitting out' with you, but walking up and down the shore. -Or--we'll teach you." - -Olive declined to be taught, but agreed to accompany the others. -Promenading along the bank, fur-wrapped, her dark beauty made brilliant -by the frosty air which nipped her cheeks, she was a figure to compel -attention. She had never seemed more companionable than now, and both -Ross and Rufus enjoyed, with more zest than they had anticipated, the -period allotted to them for bearing her company. Murray, observing her -with brotherly penetration, found her decidedly improved, and wondered -what had happened during the months of her absence to make her so much -more appreciative of her family's society than she had been wont to be. - -When Peter, in his turn, came to offer himself as partner in her exile -from the gaieties going on upon the ice, she greeted him with a smile so -radiant that he looked at her in wonder. The old friendship between the -two, begun in the earlier days of their acquaintance, and carried on -through several years, while they grew from boy and girl to man and -woman, had waned and nearly died of neglect on both sides during the -past two years. Each had become absorbed in pursuits so different that -they had little in common, and Olive, especially, had seemed to outgrow -the traits of frankness and friendliness which had made Peter like her -in spite of many obvious faults. Before she went away, he had come to -think of her as hopelessly spoiled and artificial. But now--had -something changed her point of view? - -"A few years ago." said Olive, as the two paced up and down, exchanging -comments on the occurrences of the past months, "I was in a hurry to be -grown up. When I look at Jane and Shirley and Nancy, after having been -away from them for six months, I realise that their genius for remaining -girls is going to be an advantage. What a trio they are! Shouldn't you -say they were all three about sixteen?" - -The three had just joined hands and skated away from Murray, Ross, and -Rufus, who had promptly started in pursuit. All three wore skirts of -ankle length, short jackets and close little caps, and none had -considered furs a necessary article of apparel for lively exercise. A -blue silk scarf about Jane's throat and a scarlet one floating to the -breeze from Shirley's furnished notes of colour to the agile, dark-clad -figures, and three health-tinted, winsome faces looked up at the two on -the bank with a gay greeting as the trio swung lightly by. - -"I certainly should," agreed Peter. "I don't think Jane will ever grow -old. Nan is an infant, and will be for ten years yet, as far as -settling down to consider herself too old for pranks like that, and I 'm -glad of it. As for your sister Shirley----" - -"Tell me what you think of Shirley. The child is a continual puzzle to -me; I can't make her out. This idea of working steadily at earning a -salary in the office seems to be a fixed one, though I had supposed it -only a freak. Does she look as contented as this all the time, or is it -just the relaxation of the holiday?" - -"I should say it was a permanent condition of mind. She 's more -interested to-day in her work than when she began, and is growing -surprisingly expert. Murray told me yesterday she wants to tackle the -special foreign correspondence--French, you know. That means a lot of -extra labour." - -Peter spoke as if he felt a personal pride in Shirley's achievements, an -attitude which Shirley's sister was quick to note. - -"I felt out of patience with you when she began, for I thought her zeal -for making a working-girl of herself might be of your inspiring," said -Olive, with a quick look at him. - -"Not a bit of it. I never heard of it till she had been a week at her -first studies. How should I have dared suggest such a course?" - -"You and she seem to be great friends." - -"Do we? It is an honour I appreciate very much," answered Peter, with a -little touch of courtliness in his manner such as had often surprised -her in the early days of their acquaintance, and which struck her now as -decidedly interesting in a young man who spent his days in a factory, -even if he was many degrees higher in position in that factory than when -she had first known him. What his position was at present she did not -guess, nor did she know that Murray had begun to look at him as a man to -be desired in his own business, a man whose brain was undoubtedly to -make him an important factor wherever he might be. - -What she did recognise was that she had met few men anywhere who had the -power to command her interest as Peter had always done, and seemed now -more capable of doing than ever before. As for his looks--she owned to -herself that she had never before realised quite how fine and resolute -and altogether manly was his whole personality. - -"Speaking of contentment," said Peter, breaking the little silence which -had followed upon his last words, "don't you think it follows rather -naturally upon feeling that you are accomplishing something worth the -doing? It does n't make so much difference what it is; the point is, -that you 're doing it. If it costs effort, so much the better." - -"It depends on what you think is worth the doing," said Olive. "You and -I would be apt to differ on that--as Shirley and I do." - -"Not much question of that," admitted Peter, smiling. He gave her one -of his clear-sighted glances, under which she shrank a little though she -did not show it. It made her say, rather defiantly: - -"Of course you think, as you always did, that I 'm the most useless -creature living, and that my ideals are about as insignificant as the -amount of actual work I do." - -Their eyes met, hers black and sparkling, his gray and steady and cool. -He studied her for an instant, with a quality in his intent scrutiny -before which her eyes went down. She was used to admiration in men's -observation of her, and though that element could hardly be lacking in -Peter's, since he was human, and she a more than ordinarily charming -young woman, there was also in his regard that appearance of taking her -measure, which, quite unconsciously, he could never help exercising when -brought into contact with men or women. But his words, when they came, -were gentle. - -"If you don't mind my saying so, I think you 're capable of things so -well worth while that your life might be a wonderful thing to you. You -could, if you cared to, do what you pleased with almost anybody. You -have the art, the magnetism--whatever it may be--of the born leader. -The only trouble is--you don't much mind--do you?--which way you lead." - -This from Peter Bell! For a minute Olive was left speechless. Yet it -was impossible to resent his frank putting of the case, for it conveyed -something which gave her a distinct pleasure. - -"I 'm not sure whether I ought to be angry with you or not," she said, -after a minute. - -"Please don't be." - -"When did you take up the profession of preacher?" - -"To the queen?" suggested Peter, with an odd smile. "But you 're at -liberty to order my head off at any minute, you know. Or to preach -back--which would be worse." - -In spite of this passage-at-arms, they were both laughing when the -others came up with the announcement that it was time to go back to the -house. But Peter's keen speech sank in; Olive did not forget it soon. -And somehow, she was more than ever sure that Peter himself was well -worth cultivating. - -"I never was so excited over a Christmas tree as over this one," -confided Nancy to Shirley, as the two dressed for the evening. The -Christmas dinner had taken place, after the country fashion, in the -middle of the afternoon. It was now six o'clock, and the evening was -before them. No supper was in order, after the tremendous banquet at -three o'clock; but Jane had provided certain light refreshments of the -decorative sort; salad and sandwiches, gay-coloured ices and bonbons, -cakes and a great bowl of fruit punch, all of which waited in a cool -spot ready for the serving by the young people themselves. Cook and -Norah had been sent into town, for a celebration of their own with -friends. - -"Oh, oh! What a pretty frock!" cried Nancy, as her friend shook out a -soft silken fabric of pale gray, lighted up here and there with small -sprigs of scarlet flowers, with belt and long streamers of scarlet -velvet to match. - -"Do you like it? It's my one French gown, and an inexpensive one, too, -but it looks festal, and I thought I 'd christen it to-night. Will you -wear the one I have for you? I meant to put it on the tree, but it -occurred to me you might like to wear it and keep me company," and -Shirley pulled a long box from under the valance of the high -'four-poster' bed. - -"You are the dearest thing that ever lived!" cried Nancy, going down on -her knees before the box, and lifting out the frock of pale blue -veiling, with its trimmings of flowered ribbon, a girlish creation of -the sort to please young eyes. - -It was a very happy pair of maids who descended the staircase together. -They were happy, however, in two quite different ways. Nancy's cup was -overflowing in the delight of her pretty finery; but it was a joy of -another sort which made Shirley's heart beat high. Under the folds of -gray with the scarlet flowers a small envelope lay hidden, over the -contents of which the girl had spent an anxious hour. - -There has not been room to tell of it in this brief chronicle, but for -the last month Shirley had been having consultations with Murray over an -important subject--the matter of an investment she wished to make. She -owned not a small amount of property, in stocks and bonds, an -inheritance from her grandfather, the management of which had been put -into her hands by her father as a matter of education. Within a few -weeks a chance for profitable investment of a portion of this holding -had appealed to her, and after a spirited argument with her brother, she -had received his sanction in the course she was eager to adopt. - -The legal part of the transaction had been completed two days before -Christmas, and since then Shirley had been greatly occupied in spare -moments with the composition of something which might seem to have small -connection with so prosaic a subject as the transfer of certain legal -documents from one pair of hands to another. She was not yet satisfied -with the result of her endeavours, being no poet, but the best burlesque -production of which she had been capable had been carefully copied on -her typewriter, and was now reposing where its presence considerably -quickened the heart-beats under the scarlet flowers. - -At a moment when she was alone in the room Shirley slipped round behind -the tree, and extracting the envelope from its agitating position, -quickly, although with fingers which mixed themselves up a little, tied -it in an obscure place beneath a bough, where a gay golden ball nearly -hid it from view. - -"Come out! Come out!" commanded Rufus, as, arriving upon the scene, he -spied her. "Absolutely not a feather's weight more allowed on that tree. -There never was a tree so bowed down with care as that one. Nor another -small boy so impatient to begin as this one. I caught sight of my name -on that package six feet long under there, and I 've been delirious with -suspense ever since." - -"As soon as Santa Claus arrives," promised Jane, who had agreed with -Shirley that no accompaniment of the traditional Christmas should be -lacking, although there were no small children present to be edified by -the sight of the patron saint. Older people, as she well knew, -frequently enjoy a return to childish means of entertainment, and when -Santa Claus, in full rig, walked into the room, she was not surprised to -see the looks of greatest pleasure upon the faces of Grandfather and -Grandmother Bell. - -Peter made a capital Santa Claus, treating them all as children, and -making speeches as he presented the gifts which brought forth peals of -merriment. The gifts themselves were many and varied, from the mittens -knit by Grandmother Bell's skilful fingers, to the silken scarfs and -fans and foreign photographs which were the contributions of the -travelled Townsends. - -"Skees!" cried Rufus, going into contortions of ecstasy over Murray's -present, and clumping up and down the room on the unwieldy articles. -"Won't I get out to-morrow night on that hill back of the pond!" - -"Such beautiful lace I never saw," said Mrs. Joseph Bell to Mrs. -Townsend, her fingers caressing the exquisite tracery of the pattern -lying in her lap, which had come to her "with the love of Eleanor -Forrest Townsend." - -"I thought it looked like you," returned Mrs. Townsend, who was looking -very much pleased herself over a handkerchief wrought by Nancy's clever -art. The others were busy over their gifts; it was a pandemonium of -exclamations and congratulations, expressions of gratitude and -observations of wonder and delight. Shirley, her lap full of parcels, -tissue-paper, ribbons, and cards of presentation, talking and exclaiming -with the rest, was yet keeping her eye on Santa Claus, as he stripped -the tree. She was watching for the moment when he should find that -envelope. When it came, she meant to be out of the room and away. - -Meanwhile Santa Claus dropped a fresh package into her lap. She -recognised the saint's own handwriting on the wrapper--a bolder, firmer -hand than one would have expected from a gentleman with so long and -snowy a beard. She opened it with strong anticipation, and found within -a set of note-books of special style and quality, evidently made to -order, for the binding was of a beautiful texture of leather, and the -paper within of the best known to trade--the thin India, used only for -fine work. Her name, delicately stenciled on the covers, completed a -gift which appealed to the girl with a sense of the thought and care put -into its make-up. She looked up, to find Santa Claus's eyes watching -her from behind the tree, his lips smiling beneath the white beard, for -her surprise and pleasure were plainly to be read upon her face. She -nodded at him, colouring rosily--a picture, in her gray and scarlet -frock, as she sat upon the floor surrounded by her gifts, the sight of -which was quite sufficient to reward any giver. - -Almost everything was off the tree. "Hello, here 's something I nearly -missed!" murmured Santa Claus, catching sight of the corner of the white -envelope beneath the golden ball. Shirley looked up quickly, saw him -struggling with the red ribbon which tied the envelope in place, and -rose to her feet, letting a lapful of miscellaneous articles slide to -the floor. - -Everybody was busy, and only Mrs. Bell noticed, and said, gently, "Look -out, dear, you 're dropping things." But Shirley was gone, through the -crowd of people and packages, to the door, and had closed it softly -behind her. - -Peter had already had a gift from Shirley, a little thing. She was not -the girl to present any man with a keepsake more valuable than the small -book of modern verse which had in it certain stirring lines that she -knew would be a stimulus to him. So when he saw his own name in -typewriting upon the envelope, he opened it without much consideration, -thinking it a joke of Ross's or Rufus's. But a second envelope was -fitted inside the first, and it was labeled, "Please don't read this in -public." - -His curiosity was awakened now, and slipping the communication into his -pocket, he summarily finished his duties by distributing the few -remaining parcels without comment, and then walked away out of the room. -It had occurred to him that that note-paper was of a sort that he had -seen once or twice before, when Shirley had had occasion to send him a -note of invitation. - -Outside in the hall, which was dimly lighted by an oil side-lamp screwed -to the wall, Peter opened his inner envelope. Still in typewritten -characters was a set of rhymes, cast in a popular fashion used by makers -of humorous doggerel. His eye ran over them hurriedly, with a low -ejaculation of astonishment and incredulity at the end; then he read -them again more intently, looking as if he could not believe the -evidence of his eyes, They ran thus: - - A farm owned by people named Bell - Was a place where a Thorn would fain dwell. - So he bought up a mortgage, - Intending to war wage - On the property-owners named Bell. - - Now one of the Bells, christened Peter, - Thought life would be fuller and sweeter - If the farm could be shorn - Of this sharp-pricking Thorn, - For he feared a foreclosure, did Peter. - - A designing young person called Townsend - Was seeking investment (cash down), and - She purchased the mortgage. - She never will war wage, - She'll never foreclose, will S. Townsend. - - -Peter had noticed, if nobody else had, when Shirley went out of the -room. He now understood her sudden disappearance. He made a quick trip -through the lower part of the house, paper in hand, his questioning gaze -penetrating every corner. She was not in the sitting-room, or the -dining-room, or the kitchen--at least he thought she was not, although -he even looked into the wood-shed. As he was returning through the -kitchen, an expression of determination on his face not wholly obscured -by his patriarchal beard, whose hitherto uncomfortable presence he had -quite forgotten, a slight movement of the pantry door caught his eye. -He seized the door-knob. It would not turn for a moment; then it -slipped slowly round, for his fingers were stronger than hers. - -The two confronted each other--the white-bearded gentleman, with the -figure of an athlete and the eyes of an excited youth, and the slim girl -in the gray silk, with cheeks like her scarlet ribbons. - -"What does this mean?" demanded Santa Claus. He put forth one vigorous -arm and drew the runaway out from the closet by her resisting hand. - -"Just what it says, I should think," answered Shirley, bravely, although -trembling. Had she offended him? Through the whole transaction that -had been the one burden of her anxiety. "It doesn't say it very clearly, -but she never tried writing limericks before. They 're not so easy as -you might think." - -"She! Who?" - -"'S. Townsend.'" - -"Do you mean to say you 've actually bought that mortgage?": - -"Murray did the business. I didn't see Mr. Thorn." - -"But you own the mortgage?" - -"Yes." - -"Thorn did n't want to sell it." - -"No--but he had to take payment if it came when the mortgage matured." - -"It is n't due for six weeks yet." - -"He did n't mind being paid sooner, when he found all hope of the chance -of foreclosing was gone." - -"He would n't sell for the face of it?" - -"I 'm not familiar with business terms," urged Shirley. - -"Not? A girl who holds a position with Townsend & Company! Tell me, -Shirley--you did n't get that mortgage six weeks before it was due, for -the face value of it?" - -"Not quite." - -"How much did you pay?" - -"Not more than it was worth." - -"Please tell me _how much more_ you paid." - -"I think that's my affair," said Shirley, with her head up. But her -eyes were down. - -There was a silence. Peter put his hand to his mouth with intent to -cover a sudden urgent and unwonted necessity to steady his lips. He -encountered the beard, tore it off, and cast the wig beside it upon the -floor. A young man with a face of mingled light and shadow emerged from -the disguise of the elderly one. - -"If I didn't know that, with this farm as security, you 'd made a safe -investment, I could n't stand this." he said, in a low tone. "But I -know that making a safe investment was the last thing you cared about. -You wanted to stand by in a time of need--and you 've done it." - -"You mustn't think," said Shirley, looking up eagerly, "that you 're -under the least obligation to me. It's just as you say. The farm -itself is more than security. It's merely a matter of business. You -know, I 'm learning to manage my little affairs. Father thought it -would be good for me. And a change of investment like this is great -fun." - -Peter looked at her steadily. "Oh, no, we 're not under the least -obligation to you!" he answered. "It's very easy to find people to take -a mortgage at terms that will induce a man to sell it who 's looking for -a chance to foreclose--that's why I have n't done any worrying about the -matter! Shirley--you 're----" he seized her hand. "You're----" - -"It 's all right," said Shirley, turning her head away with a sudden -access of shyness. There was no knowing what terms Peter might be going -to use, when his voice dropped to that vibrating note. - -But she did not escape. Peter was ordinarily a self-controlled young -man, with a cool head not likely to be carried away by sudden emotion. -But he had a warm heart, none the less, and the girl's friendly act had -touched him deeply. Besides, he was, as has been admitted before, -entirely human, and Shirley, in her gray and scarlet, with her brilliant -cheeks and drooping eyes, was a very captivating figure. Tightening his -grasp upon her hand he ended his impulsive speech half under his breath -with--"You 're the--dearest--girl in the world!" - -What he would have said--or done--next can only be conjectured, for upon -this unexpected and most disconcerting demonstration Shirley pulled her -hand away and ran--somewhere--anywhere--she did not just know where. In -this indefinite region she remained for fully half an hour. In the end -she had to come back to the living-room, but when she did it was not to -look at Peter. - -As for Peter himself, when he had got rid of his Santa Claus costume and -put himself in order again, he also came back to the living-room. His -face had been put in order as well as his dress, and nobody noticed -anything odd about him. But there _was_ something odd about him--very -odd. He felt like a railway locomotive off the track, obliged to convey -to the beholders, by its steadiness of gait, the impression that it was -still on! - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - A RED GLARE - - -"By all that's astonishing, are you actually idling? And may I come and -idle, too?" - -Shirley looked up from the depths of one of the capacious willow chairs, -which, well stocked with cushions, were favourite lounging-places upon -the great side porch of the Townsend house, and from which one could -look out over a long and charming stretch of lawn toward the -tennis-court. - -It was a warm evening in late May. Everybody else was away, and Shirley -had settled herself for one of the rare hours of rest and solitude which -she so much enjoyed when her work was done. But she answered Brant -Hille cordially: - -"Of course you may, if you will be nice and soothing. These first warm -days make me feel a trifle lazy." - -"Not strange, when you spend them in a stuffy office." Brant accepted -the cushions she tossed to him, and disposed himself comfortably upon -them on the top step near her feet. - -"The office is n't stuffy. I 've sat by a wide-open window all day. -Besides, the first thing Murray did when he went in with father was to -overhaul our whole system of ventilation. So the office is never stuffy, -even in winter." - -"Don't be belligerent, or I 'll not be responsible for the soothing -effects of my society. What can I do to lull you to repose? You don't -like banjo music, or I 'd have brought my banjo over. It's just the -evening for that." - -"If you had, you'd have gone home again." - -"You _are_ in a sweet mood!" Brant spoke with the familiarity of old -acquaintance. "Would you object to telling me what's gone wrong with -your ladyship?" - -"I can't find out the French for certain phrases it's necessary to use -in the correspondence we have on hand just now. There are no -equivalents for the idioms that I can discover as yet, and it's most -important that I get them right. I 've practically had to make a -phrase-book for myself so far, because the dictionaries and hand-books -don't give the terms I want. I got hold of some old correspondence last -week that helped me immensely, but to-day I was completely baffled. I -suppose it has got on my nerves, and made me fractious." - -Yet she did not look particularly nerve-worn, lying there in the low -chair, in her thin white frock, her round arms resting upon the arms of -the chair, her head thrown back, as she regarded her visitor from under -low-sweeping lashes. Neither did she look in the least like the young -woman of business she had become. - -Brant was always trying to convince himself that her work was spoiling -her--it would be a comforting realisation if he could think it. But as -often as he had succeeded in making himself half believe that some other -girl, whose ways of living were such as he approved, was nearly as -attractive as Shirley Townsend, just so often did the sight of Shirley -in some unbusinesslike surroundings upset his convictions. To-night she -looked particularly feminine and alluring, in spite of her avowed -fractiousness and her explanation of the cause. - -"All baffling things wear on one," he answered, with an air of being -sympathetic. "I know how it is, from experience. I 'd like a -dictionary or a phrase-book myself--one that would tell me what to say -to you when you want to be 'soothed.' Shall I go in and get a book of -verse and read aloud to you?" - -"Please don't." - -"Fiction, then? - -"Worse and worse." - -"History? Philosophy? Science? Travel?--Or humour?" - -"None of them. I don't like to be read to--as a duty." - -"Duty! I'd be delighted." - -"I should n't, then." - -"What _do_ you want?" - -"Silence, I think," said the girl in the chair, with a mischievous look -at the back of her companion's head. Her face was demure again, -however, when he turned. "Don't you like just to sit and gaze off into -space on a languid night like this, and say nothing at all?" - -"If you prefer to have me go home----" - -"Not in the least. I 'd like to know you were there on call--if you -would n't talk." - -A silence of some length ensued. Brant stared moodily off over the -darkening lawn, watching distant electric lights twinkle into existence -along the rows of tree-tops which outlined the streets. Shirley closed -her eyes. She really was more weary than she knew. It had been a busy -winter in the office, and she had worked hard to be able to fill the -place she held. Her achievements in the matter of the technical French -correspondence had proved of considerable importance to the firm, and -her satisfaction at becoming so useful had led her to spend much of her -spare time in making herself proficient. - -It was fully fifteen minutes--he thought it at least an hour--before -Brant looked around. He had vowed to himself that he would give her all -the silence she wanted, that he would not speak until she spoke. But -after a time her absolute motionlessness struck him as caused by -something even less flattering to himself than her desire for absence of -speech. - -"Confound it--I believe she 's gone to sleep!" he said to himself, and -rose abruptly, to stand looking down at her, discomfited and very nearly -angry. Of all the odd girls, one who would tell you to stop talking, -and then go off to sleep in your presence, was certainly the oddest. He -supposed she might be tired, and with reason, but--to go to sleep! - -The shaded electric bulbs, which hung at each corner of the porch, at -this moment came glowingly into life, as somebody within switched on the -current. They were not designed to illuminate the porch strongly, only -to turn its gloom into a mellow moonlight effect. But the light was -quite sufficient to show Brant that although Shirley's lashes still -swept her cheek, her lips were smiling. - -"It was a frightful test of your friendship, n't it?" she murmured, -without opening her eyes. "But you did nobly. I never thought you -could hold out so long!" - -"You--rascal! I 'll wager you wanted to talk, yourself, after a while." - -"Of course I did. The minute a woman gets what she wants, she -wants--something else." - -"What is it now? Me to go home?" - -"How distrustful of yourself you are to-night!" - -"That's the effect you usually have on me." Brant drew up a chair. -"Shirley," he began again abruptly, "do you know what I wish?" - -"No." - -"Do you want to know it?" - -"Not badly." - -"You don't care a straw for me, do you?" - -"Several straws." - -"You do! I say----" - -A door opened. Sophy said, deferentially, "You 're wanted at the -telephone, if you please, Miss Shirley." - -Shirley vanished. Brant rose and paced about the porch, waiting. - -"Of course it's no use!" he said, discontentedly, to himself. "I 've -got as far as this forty times--and no farther. The next thing she did -would be to throw a soaking wet blanket over me. I ought to be used to -it. But she might at least take me seriously. She never does. It 's -no good--this growing up with a girl and then trying to convince her -that you mean anything when you speak!" - -Inside, Shirley was listening to a rapid fire of words which woke her up -as thoroughly as anything had ever done in her life. They came in the -voice of Peter Bell, a voice at once excited and controlled: - -"Shirley, the factory is on fire. I don't want father to hear about -it--he 'd come down--you understand. Will you think up some way to get -him off with yourself for the next hour? We 'll probably have to turn in -a general alarm, and if we do, somebody 'll be sure to call him up and -tell him. That 's all. I can count on you?" - -"Yes--yes. Peter----" - -But Peter was already gone. Evidently he had no time to spare for -answering questions. Shirley turned away from the telephone, thinking -rapidly. - -She knew that Mr. Joseph Bell was at home, for she had seen him, an hour -earlier, training vines over the front porch. She understood that Peter -had remained for late work at the factory office, as he so often did, -although it was now nearly nine o'clock. And she knew well that it -would never do for Peter's father to go down to the burning -building--the excitement of a great fire at his own place of business -would be the worst thing in the world for him. - -Mr. Joseph Bell had kept steadily on at his work throughout the year, -and nothing that Peter had feared had happened. It had been arranged -somehow so that the most fatiguing part of his duties now came upon the -broad shoulders of the son instead of the bent ones of the father. But -it was as necessary as ever that there should be no sudden strain, -either physical or mental, and it was this which she now must prevent. - -Brant Hille, waiting impatiently outside, saw Shirley fly back to him, -and looked up at her with gratification. But her first words made him -sit up, for she spoke in haste: - -"Brant, is your car ready for a start?" - -"Always is. Want to----" - -"Will you get it--quick? The Armstrong paper-factory is on fire. Mr. -Bell mustn't know it. I can't stop to explain. I must get him away -where he won't hear. I 'll go ask him and Mrs. Bell to take a drive -with us--out to the farm, perhaps. I 'll run over. You drive round -there--will you?" - -"Why on earth should n't he know? He----" - -"Oh, don't stop to talk about it. I 'll tell you afterward. The -general alarm may go in any minute, and somebody will telephone him if -he's at the house. Quick--please!" - -Of course Brant did not understand, but Shirley's manner was not to be -taken lightly. Even as she spoke she left him and ran indoors again. -Well, if he could serve her, it would be better than having to sit -beside her in silence while she thought about technical French phrases. -Besides, he was an enthusiastic motorist, and a hurry call for the car -always gave him more or less pleasure. He bolted across the lawn, -through the hedge by a short cut to the street, and so to his own home, -on the farther side of Worthington Square. - -Shirley hurried across Gay Street, having stopped only to pick up a long -coat and scarf. She caught sight of Mrs. Bell's light skirt at the edge -of the vine-screen of the porch. - -"Isn't it a perfect night?" Mrs. Bell heard a familiar, clear-toned -voice ask. "Don't you and Mr. Bell want to take a gentle little spin -down Northboro road in Mr. Hille's car? He 's asked me out, and given -me leave to invite whomever I want. I 'd love to have you." - -Mr. Brant Hille--inviting Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Bell to go motoring with -him at nine o'clock on a May evening--there was no precedent for this! -But Mrs. Bell, with the intuition of the mother of young people, thought -she understood. Shirley wanted a chaperon, and her kind young heart -prompted her to ask a pair who were not much accustomed to the delights -of automobiling in the moonlight. - -"Why, yes, we'll go," said Mr. Bell, getting up from his rocking-chair. -"We 're all alone to-night--the young people are off at a party. If you -'ll persuade the young man not to put on too much speed." - -So in less than five minutes the party were settling themselves in the -big green car, its headlights making a wide, brilliant track before it -down the quiet street. - -"All ready?" asked Hille, and started the car. As it began to move, the -distant but distinct sound of a telephone-bell struck upon Shirley's -ear. Mr. Bell turned his head. "Was that in our house?" he asked. - -Mrs. Bell was tying a scarf over her hair, slightly muffling her ears. -She had not heard. - -"Go on--fast!" breathed Shirley in Hille's ear. The street was nearly -empty, and he obeyed. For a moment Mr. Bell's attention was taken by -the new sensation of speed,--not appreciable speed, from the motorist's -stand-point, because the car was within city limits, but to the novice -considerable. - -At the intersection of Gay Street with Conner Street it was possible to -look for a moment straight down toward the heart of the city, into the -business district. A red glare was plainly visible, although partly -dimmed by hundreds of twinkling electric lights between. - -"Must be a big fire," said Mr. Bell, straining his eyes to see. Then -the trees and houses hid the city from view. "It was down our way, too. -I wish I could telephone the factory and find out. Peter's there. He -'d know. Might be that was our telephone-bell that rang." - -"I did n't hear any bell, dear," his wife assured him. - -"A fire always looks nearer than it is," said Hille, over his shoulder, -driving on without diminishing his speed. Instead, he accelerated it. -The street was a quiet one, there was nobody in sight. - -"One summer, when I was a little girl, and we were staying in the -country, father and I walked half a mile to see a fire--and found a big -red moon coming up behind the trees," said Shirley, and talked lightly -on. - -Brant seconded her efforts with skill, for which she inwardly thanked -him, and between them they soon had the thoughts of their guests far -away from the dangerous subject. They ran quickly through the suburbs -out into the open country, taking the Northboro road, for that course -led directly away from the red glare which, as Shirley covertly glanced -back from time to time, could be clearly perceived on the western side -of the city behind them. - -Gaily as she talked and laughed, the girl's thoughts were with Peter. -He was somewhere back in that red glare, working, without doubt, if -there were anything for him to do. She was thankful that it was after -hours, and that there were probably few of the factory hands about the -place, yet there were undoubtedly many things to be saved in the -office--books and papers and drawings. She knew Peter well enough to be -sure that his own personal safety would be the last thing he would think -of, so long as he could do what might look like his duty to the house he -served. - -The Bells did not know how far they went, nor did they guess at what a -pace. Brant's machine was a fine one, and he was an expert at smooth -running. The flight through the warm moonlight was a delightful -experience, for few curves and no sharp grades gave accent to the speed, -and the hour flew by as swiftly as the road. When they turned again -toward the city, the crimson glow upon the clouds had gone. - -"The fire is out," remarked Mr. Bell, as they arrived at the top of a -small hill in the suburbs, from which he could see into the heart of the -business district. "Hope it was n't as serious as it looked." - -But Brant's eyes and Shirley's, younger and sharper, could make out a -dense mass of smoke hanging over the place where the flames had been. - -"It won't do to take them home yet," thought the girl, setting her wits -at work again. - -The result was an invitation to the Bells to alight at the great porch -of the Townsend house, instead of in Gay Street, with the promise of -some light refreshment. At first they shook their heads; but Hille -declared so loudly that he knew what Shirley had to offer, and could not -think of letting them down short of the full measure of the -entertainment, that there seemed to be no way out without spoiling the -pleasure of the two young people. So presently they were all partaking -of a hastily concocted iced drink, served with tiny cakes, and laughing -over Hille's stories of certain college incidents, which he told with -gusto, incited thereto by Shirley's whispered, "You 're helping me -splendidly. Please keep it up, and I 'll be forever in your debt." - -"If there's any way of making you forever in my debt," Brant made reply -under his breath, "I 'll do a continuous performance for your friends -till daylight." - -But such an effort as this would have been was unnecessary. Mrs. Bell -presently took her husband away, and since it was a late hour, and no -other chaperons appeared upon the scene, Brant was forced to go, also. -He was obliged to give up making any further attempts at gaining headway -in Shirley's good graces, for although she dismissed him with hearty -thanks, it was with an air of abstraction hardly to be wondered at. Her -one desire was to hear the telephone-bell ring again, and learn that -although the factory might have burned to the ground, no lives were -lost--and that not a hair of her friend's head was hurt. - -She stood alone upon the porch, waiting anxiously, when the Townsend -landau drove in at the gate, bringing home Murray and Jane, who had been -out to dinner. - -"There she is," said Murray, with suppressed excitement. The next -instant he was out, had whirled Jane out also, and was grasping his -young sister's hands. - -"Don't be frightened--it 's all right. But a few things have happened -this evening. The Armstrong factory----" - -"I know. Is it gone?" - -"To the foundations. Peter found the fire, fought it alone till the -firemen came, rescued the night-watchman--played the leading part -generally--till an accident put him out. My word!--that -fellow----Well--he 's all right, but he 's burned a bit, and his leg 's -broken. He was so confoundedly risky, trying to save the last calendar -on the wall----" - -"Where is he?" - -"St. Martin's Hospital. We 've just come from there. He got his -knock-out the first half-hour after the thing began, so there 's been -time to get him fixed up. Our man Larrabee was at the fire, saw Peter -put into the ambulance, and telephoned me at the Kingsfords'. Tried -three times to get his people at home, but could n't. See here, he wants -you to tell his mother--says Jane is too much upset." - -[Illustration: "'LARRABEE WAS AT THE FIRE AND SAW PETER PUT INTO THE -AMBULANCE'"] - -Shirley looked at Jane. "I 'm not upset," said Jane, but her lips were -unsteady. Murray put his arm around her. - -"You see, Larrabee thought it was worse than it was with Peter, when -they put him in the ambulance. He was stunned by the fall that broke -his leg. It gave Janey a bad shock, and no wonder--it did me. But the -old boy 's himself again, all right, and his one idea is to let his -mother know why he does n't come home, but to keep even the news of the -factory fire from his father to-night, if he can. We don't see why, but -he seems to, so we 'll follow his wishes. It's the least we can do for -him." - -Shirley slipped through the hedge, and slowly crossed Gay Street in the -moonlight. She was trying hard to be cool and do as Peter wanted her to -do. If she rang, Mr. Bell would come to the door, and then how should -she manage, what excuse should she give? She thought of a way. - -"Mr. Bell," she said when he appeared, "Janey 's come home from her -party--and she 's had just a little bit too much party. She feels like -a small girl again, and wants her mother to come over for a few -minutes." - -"Why, of course," said Mr. Bell, heartily, from the shadow of the -doorway. "Nothing much the matter with the little girl?" - -"Oh, no--she 'll be all right in the morning." - -So Mrs. Bell crossed the road with Shirley, and the girl, with her arm -round the elder woman's shoulders, gently told her the news. Mrs. Bell -took it as Peter had known she would, quietly, although, aside from his -personal injury, there was much cause for anxious thought in the loss of -the factory and the consequent putting of its workers out of employment. - -When Peter's mother had gone home again, resting on Murray's promise -that in the morning he would take her to the hospital, Shirley turned to -her brother. He had taken Jane upstairs, and come down again, himself -too restless to go to bed. He discovered his sister to be in a like -mood, and they sat down once more in the moonlit porch to talk it over, -regardless of the hour, which was past midnight. - -"I wonder sometimes," said Murray, suddenly, when he had told Shirley in -detail all he knew of the events of the evening, "whether anybody but me -fully appreciates that chap, Peter Bell. Do you know what I' ve been -thinking a long time? That he 's the man we need at the head of one of -our departments. From all I can learn, he 's been growing as nearly -invaluable to the Armstrongs as a man can be, yet they have n't raised -his salary for two years. Now 's our chance to jump in and get him. If -I can only convince father--and I think he 's pretty nearly convinced--I -'ll make Peter an offer to-morrow. Pretty good medicine for a broken -leg and burned hands--eh?" - -"I should hope it would be." - -"You 'd like to see him in the business, would n't you?" - -"If you think him fit for it." - -"If I think him fit! What about you?" - -"How can I judge? It's for you to say." - -Murray looked sharply at her, in the shaded light of the electric bulbs. -He smiled, for in spite of her remarkably quiet manner, her fingers, -unconsciously twisting and untwisting her delicate handkerchief, were, -as he put it to himself, "giving her away." He had an idea that it -mattered a good deal to his sister what Peter Bell's future might be, -although he was confident that there was no understanding between them. - -If he knew Peter, that young man was not the one to ask to marry a rich -man's daughter until his own feet were on substantial ground. But that -Peter cared, and cared very deeply, for Murray Townsend's sister, Murray -was well assured. - -"It's for me to say, is it?" he went on, wickedly persisting in his -theme. "But it's for you to think! How about having him round our -office every day--desk next mine--giving you dictation, now and then, -maybe, when it suits me to put it off on him? Think you could stand it? -Look up at him as coolly as you do at me? Could you, Miss Townsend, -stenographer? See here, what are you jumping up for?" - -"Because you are getting impudent," responded Miss Townsend, turning her -head so that her face was in shadow. Her heart was beating so quickly -she was afraid her brother would recognise the fact. It had been an -agitating evening all through, and now this last suggestion was rather -more than she could face with composure. - -"I 've a notion P. B. himself could put up with the situation," went on -Murray, watching her. "His dictation might be a trifle flurried at -first, and he might forget himself now and then, and ignore those purely -businesslike relations which should always exist between a business man -and his stenographer. But I 've no doubt that by a judicious course of -snubbing you could----" - -But he was talking to the empty air. By a hasty flight and the abrupt -closing of a door, his sister had put herself out of range. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - PETER PREFERS THE PORCH - - -"You 're quite sure you want me?" asked Peter Bell. - -"Quite sure," replied Murray Townsend. The two pairs of eyes looked -into each other. - -Peter's gaze shifted to his father. "I 'll do it under one condition," -he said. "That father gives up factory work and goes to live at the old -farm." - -Mr. Harrison Townsend turned also toward Mr. Joseph Bell. He smiled -slightly, noting the hesitation of the other man. - -"It's time you and I retired, Bell," said he. "I 've been getting to the -point for a long time. Let's make a bargain of it. If you 'll go back -to the farm, I 'll come and spend a good share of my time there. I 'd -like to help with the haying. I should enjoy watching the cows come -home. I 'll venture to say I could drive a mowing-machine--for an hour -or two." - -The four men occupied the small rear porch of the house in Gay Street, -looking out on Nancy's garden. Peter lay upon a couch, his leg in -splints, his hands in bandages. After a few days at the hospital he had -been brought home, to spend the long hours of his recovery where he -could bear them best. The other three were close by, Murray nearest. -He had put off making his proposition to Peter until he and his father -could arrive at a perfect agreement as to every term of the offer. - -Joseph Bell met his son's meaning gaze with understanding. He knew -nothing counted with Peter as did the anxiety over his father's physical -condition. He had kept his boy a long time upon the rack, because of -his own unwillingness to give up his old work. But the work was taken -away from him now; there would be a considerable interval before the -Armstrongs would be ready for him again; and he could hardly think of -trying for a new position. Meanwhile, the haying season was -approaching. He thought with longing of the scent of the newly cut -grass. He could not work hard out under the sun, he knew that; but--he -could play at work. And his friend, Harrison Townsend, rich man though -he was, was offering to play, too. - -He looked at Peter and smiled, under his short gray beard. Peter smiled -back entreatingly. Slowly Joseph Bell nodded. "All right, Peter," he -said. "I'll let you have your way at last." - -For a moment Peter could not speak. He lay with dropped eyelids, -fighting lest the sudden relief from the long strain should unman him -before these who had been paying tribute to his manhood. But after a -short space he looked from Mr. Townsend to his son. - -"I 'll come," said he, and forgetting his bandaged hands, started to -hold one out. Then he smiled whimsically, and added in an odd tone, "If -you 're not afraid of the bad omen in taking on a man with a pair of -hands like these?" - -"Not much, when we remember what put them in that shape!" declared -Murray, in a tone of great satisfaction; and his father gave an emphatic -assent. - - -"What do you think 's going to happen _now_?" cried Nancy, rushing out -upon Peter's porch, a week later. - -"Give it up. But nothing can surprise me, after recent events," replied -Peter, removing his gaze for a moment from the morning newspaper pinned -up in front of him to the excited face of his sister, but looking -immediately back again at the absorbing column of business news he had -been with some difficulty perusing. His hands had been slow in -recovering from the severe injuries they had received. - -"This will. Somebody's going to be married." - -"Remarkable. But such events have occurred before in the history of -nations," replied her brother, abstractedly. - -"Not at the Townsend house, for Murray married Jane over here. Ah, ha! -I thought you 'd give me your undivided attention at last," crowed -Nancy, triumphantly. - -Peter did his best to look unconcerned, but his heart had begun to thump -quite suddenly and disconcertingly. He waited. He forgot the -newspaper. - -"Have n't you noticed how devoted Brant Hille has been for the last -year?" Nancy demanded. - -"No." - -"Then you 've been blind." - -"I 've been busy." - -"How oddly you speak! Is your throat sore?" - -"Don't tease, Nan. I'm not up to it." It was no use trying to look -unconcerned. - -Nancy saw, and took pity on him, as she might not have done if he had -been upon his feet. "It's Olive, then--though I believe I could have -made you think it was Shirley. It's not Brant Hille's fault that it is -n't, I can tell you that. Olive's going to marry an Englishman she met -last summer abroad--Mr. Arthur Crewe of Manchester. It's just announced. -The wedding 's to be the first of July. You 'll be on crutches, Peter. -Is n't that lucky? You can go." - -"Oh, yes, I 'll dance at the wedding!" agreed Peter, looking as if the -shot that missed him had come uncomfortably close. - -"It's going to be a big wedding--a gorgeous one. Is n't that like -Olive? Shirley's to be maid of honour, and there 'll be six -bridesmaids. Six ushers--and you 'd have been one if you had n't broken -your leg. Olive told me so." - -"Compensation in all things," murmured Peter. - -"The best man is the Englishman's brother. Olive says he 's stunning. -Would n't it be funny if he and Shirley should take a fancy to each -other? The maid of honour and the best man often do, you know." - -"Very interesting. I should say you had been taking a course of novels, -you 're so full of possible plots." And Peter eyed his newspaper as if -he preferred its practical columns to his sister's outlines of -sentimental situations. Nancy laughed. - -"Shirley's to have a vacation, for a week before the wedding. Perhaps -she 'll find time to get over to see you oftener, then." - -"She 's been over to see me." - -"How many times?" - -"Twice." - -"For how long?" - -"Five minutes, the first time, three, the second." - -"How many other people present?" - -"A dozen or so." - -"Have a satisfactory visit?" - -"Oh, very!" Peter hit the newspaper with his elbow, and it fell down. -"What have you got it in for me this morning for, Sis?" he demanded, -wrathfully. - -Nancy stopped laughing and looked serious. "It won't hurt you any. It -may wake you up. I just want you to know that I 'm honestly and truly -worried about Brant Hille." - -Then she vanished, and Peter lay wishing he had two good legs, that he -might get up and go and see for himself just how much all this meant. He -read the newspaper no more that morning; it lay forgotten on the floor -where it had fallen. - -The weeks went by slowly enough to the convalescent, impatient to begin -his new work, and full of plans for it. Long talks with Murray helped -most to make the waiting endurable, and the two young men grew to know -and respect each other still more deeply than ever before. Everybody was -kind. Both Mr. and Mrs. Townsend came often to see Peter; and even -Olive, although at times distraught with the business of preparation for -her approaching marriage, found a half-hour now and then in which to -slip across to Gay Street and talk with him. - -At these times she found decided refreshment in his society, for Peter's -ideas on the subject of matrimony were both novel and sensible, and in -after years she often found herself remembering and putting into -practice one or another of his quizzical maxims, founded on much shrewd -observation. - -"You are coming to my wedding, you know," she said, on the last of these -occasions, three days before the date set for that event. "And I want -you at dinner the evening before, so you may get to know Mr. Crewe, and -he you, as well as you can in one short evening. I'm so disappointed he -could n't be here all this week, as he planned." - -"Dinners?--weddings?--on these sticks?" scoffed Peter, that day promoted -to crutches and finding them as yet merely invitations to ironic humour. - -"Certainly. If you make them an excuse for staying away, I shall never -forgive you." - -"Please let me off from the dinner. If you 'll put me in the porch, and -let me be found there afterward, I 'll agree, but I can't hobble out to -the table on crutches of torture." - -"Not even to take out Shirley?" Olive glanced at him mischievously, and -saw him colour slightly as he answered: - -"That would be an inducement if anything would. But I 'm sure you 'll -adopt my point of view if I beg you to." - -"Then I shall have to send her in with Geoffrey Crewe--or Brant Hille." - -"Will the men stay behind when the ladies come out?" - -"Yes, of course." - -"Then I prefer the porch," persisted Peter, comfortably; and Olive -acknowledged that he had chosen the wiser part. - -So on Tuesday evening, when Shirley, in the midst of a rainbow-tinted -group of young women, floated airily out from the brightly lighted and -oppressively warm dining-room to the cool, softly lighted recesses of -the great porch, it was with a sense of refreshing change that she went -straight to the big chair by a pillar, where Peter sat waiting for her. -As she dropped into a low seat by his side, she thought she had never -seen him show to greater advantage, although he could not rise to do her -honour, and could only say, with a straight, upward glance, "This is -kind of you. I 've been thinking for an hour how you 'd look when you -came out that door." - -"Do I look it?" - -"My imagination fell a long way short. It's months since I 've seen you -in this sort of thing." - -He indicated her gauzy evening frock of pale rose-colour. A wreath of -tiny rosebuds crowned her hair; a little silver basket of roses, -ribbon-tied, lay in her lap, a dinner favour like those the others -carried, but suiting her attire with special charm. - -"Do you remember our first party?" asked Shirley, smiling at him. - -"I certainly do," Peter assured her. "You had on a white dress and pink -ribbons--pink slippers, too. You came up and slid your hand into mine, -because you saw I was feeling lonely. You were jolly kind to me that -night, and I never forgot it. I suppose I was a pitiful object, -standing there looking on, all by myself." - -"You did n't look pitiful at all, but rather superior, if I remember, -like a big St. Bernard, condescending to watch the antics of a lot of -frolicsome terriers." - -Peter threw back his head and laughed low, with a gleam of white teeth. -Whatever there might have been that was odd about Peter's appearance at -that first party, there could be no criticism of his looks to-night. - -Olive, taking critical note of Shirley's companion, owned that she -should feel no hesitation in presenting him to Mr. Arthur Crewe and his -brother as a connection of the family. When that moment arrived, the -American and the Englishmen appeared to take a frank liking to one -another on the spot, for the Crewes both sat down to talk, and Peter, -sitting up, met them half-way in a cordial effort to become acquainted -in the brief time allotted them. - -"Will you tell me what you think of him?" It was Olive, slipping for a -moment toward the end of the evening into the chair by Peter's, he being -temporarily left to himself. - -"I think he's a man," said Peter, heartily, and to the point. "There 's -nothing better I could say than that, is there?" - -"I suppose not, being one yourself. A woman would think it necessary to -add a number of complimentary things about his appearance and his manner -and all that." - -"I could do that, at a pinch," said Peter, smiling, "for my memory would -tell me that they were all right, though I thought nothing about them at -the time. I was looking to see what it was you were going to marry, and -I found out--as far as a half-hour's talk would show it. I wish you -great happiness, Olive--and I believe you 'll get it." - -"Thank you," and Olive was gone again, being in constant demand, as the -central figure of the occasion. She found time, however, to ask much -the same question of Arthur Crewe concerning Peter Bell, and received so -nearly the same sort of answer that she laughed, and told him of the -similarity in the two estimates. - -"I am flattered," said Crewe, "for I don't know when I 've met a young -American I 've liked better. He 's both frank and reserved--a -combination which appeals to me. It looks a bit as if you were going to -have him in the family, I believe you told me? I sincerely hope you -will--though, if you don't mind my saying it, now that I see your -sister, I feel as if I 'd like to leave Geoffrey here for the summer, -with deliberate intention. I fancy it's too late for that, though." - -"I 'm glad you like Peter. It would be too unkind to the family to take -more than one daughter to England." - -"See how well Geoffrey appreciates his privileges?" whispered Crewe, -indicating his brother, as that personable young man went by with -Shirley, his manner suggesting concentration of attention upon the -subject in hand. Then he looked in Peter's direction. "The chap in the -chair isn't deserted, is he? I think each bridesmaid has taken a turn -at him, and he seems equal to them all." - -However this might have been, Peter found himself thoroughly weary at -the end of the evening, and glad to be put into a wheeled chair and -taken home, ignominious as that mode of departure seemed. Arthur Crewe -insisted on walking at Peter's elbow, all the way round to the house in -Gay Street and the two parted with friendly warmth of good-will on each -side. - -According to Nancy, who kept Peter informed, Geoffrey Crewe neglected -none of the opportunities afforded him by his brief visit, and in one -way and another Shirley was kept busy all the next day. The wedding was -to take place in the evening, so Peter had plenty of time to rest and -reflect on the advantages an able-bodied man has over a temporary -cripple, as he caught glimpses, from time to time, of such sights as -Shirley driving off in the trap with the younger Englishman, or sitting -beside Brant Hille as he took a portion of the bridal party away for a -spin in his big green car. - -Olive had chosen to be married at home, so every effort at effective -decoration had been expended upon the house and grounds in Worthington -Square. For a hot night in July, it was expected that the outdoor -arrangements would be most popular, and the great lawn, with its natural -beauties of landscape-gardening enhanced by the devices of electricity -and Chinese lanterns, flowers and bunting, was like a fairyland. - -"If a fellow's will amounted to anything, a scene like this would make -him get on his legs, if both of them were only just out of the -repair-shop!" groaned Peter, as he was brought through the gates by -Rufus at an early hour. He took note of the paths winding away through -the grounds, made enticing to promenades by every witchery of art, and -his imagination already pictured Shirley, in her maid-of-honour attire, -floating away down one of them, devotedly attended by Brant Hille or -Geoffrey Crewe. - -"Cheer up. The wounded-hero role is awfully taking with the girls, you -know," consoled Rufus, divining the tantalising effect of this stage -setting upon his handicapped brother. - -"Wounded hero be shot!" retorted Peter. - -"It would be the most soothing thing that could happen to him. Would -you like to change places with him, instead of being able to dash about -in search of what you want?" - -"I shouldn't mind, if my crippled condition seemed to have the hypnotic -effect yours did last evening. According to Nancy, the bride-elect was -n't in it with you at posing as an interesting figure. She said the -bridesmaids were four deep around you." - -"Kind-hearted things--they were nearly the finish of me. When I become -a society man please notify my family. I shall not have the brains, -myself." - -"I will. Where will you be placed for the ceremony?" - -"Behind a screen of palms, if possible," requested Peter. He did not -get his wish literally, but by grace of a special plea to one of the -ushers, he was put in an inconspicuous place of great advantage, where -he could not only view the entire scene, but could watch the bridal -party during its whole course, from stair-landing to improvised altar -beneath a vine-covered canopy at one end of the long drawing-room. - -Olive made a strikingly beautiful bride, as her friends had known she -would, and her bridesmaids were nearly all more than ordinarily fair--or -seemed so in their picturesque garb. But to Peter, in all the bridal -party there was only one face and figure worth more than a moment's -glance. And when the maid-of-honour finally turned away from the altar -to take her position by the side of the best man for the ceremonies of -reception and congratulation which followed upon the conclusion of the -marriage service, the one onlooker who could not get up and take his -place in the gay company forming in line to greet the bridal party, was -feeling more than ever like a stranded canal-boat in the company of a -fleet of racing yachts. - -They came to him, however, when they were free--Olive Crewe and her -husband, Shirley and Mr. Geoffrey Crewe, several of the bridesmaids, and -even Brant Hille, and Peter said all the things that were expected of -him, and said them well. He might be no "society man," as he had said, -but he possessed the self-command and quickness of wit which take the -place of familiarity with such situations. Arthur Crewe liked him -better than ever as the two shook hands, and Peter spoke his quiet but -earnest words of felicitation and prophecy for the future. - -"I 'm sorry I can't be here to see you when you get about again," said -Crewe, at parting. "I can quite fancy the energy and enthusiasm you put -into your work." - -"I don't need to see you at yours to be sure you 're a steam-engine both -at project and performance," responded Peter, smiling. - -"We 'd work jolly well together, I venture to say," said the Englishman. -"Perhaps we'll have the chance some day." - -"I wish we might," and Peter gave the friendly hand a hearty grip. -"Good-bye--good-bye. The best of luck." - - -Peter sat alone upon the Townsend porch, waiting for someone to come and -take him home. Everything was over; the bridal pair had gone; the last -lingerers along the lantern-lighted paths among the shrubbery had -straggled in and reluctantly taken their departure. The big marquee in -the centre of the lawn, where supper had been served, was empty except -for scurrying caterer's men. The string orchestra stationed in the -summer-house had at last stopped playing, mopped their perspiring heads, -and packed up their instruments. Mrs. Townsend had betaken herself to -her room in a state of collapse, requiring the attendance of her husband -and Jane; and Murray paced up and down the upper hall, thinking to -himself that he had never before realised what unpleasant things -weddings were when they occurred in one's own family. - -As for Shirley, no one had laid eyes upon her since the moment when the -Townsend landau had driven away, with everybody throwing confetti, and -Olive, leaning out, had flung her bouquet straight at her sister's feet. -Everybody had laughed as Shirley picked it up, but the girl had run away -with the white bridal roses crushed close against her breast, her lips -set tight and her eyes brilliant with unshed tears. She and Olive had -been more to each other during this last year than ever before--and -England, as a place of permanent residence, seemed a very, very long way -off. - -It was odd that at the last everybody seemed to have forgotten Peter. -Ross, laughing with a pretty girl, had walked directly past him and gone -home, unmindful. Peter had supposed he would come back, but he did not. -The servants were busy, the quiet of the deserted porch restful, and -Peter leaned his head against one of the tall white pillars, thinking -less of the evening that was past than of the future that was, -coming--so soon as he could walk sturdily about once more. - -Up through the narrowest and least conspicuous path of all, one which -few of the wedding revelers had noticed because its entrance was -designedly unlighted, came a slim white figure with bent head. Peter, -gazing dreamily out over the lawn, saw it at once, and recognised it -with a start of gladness. - -Shirley came on across the velvety grass without looking up, and slowly -ascended the porch steps with her eyes still cast down. Reaching the -top, she turned about and stood leaning against the pillar, on the other -side of which was Peter's chair, without noticing his presence, staring -off at the rainbow-tinted lights, and seeing a little misty halo about -each one. - -When she had stood motionless there for some time, Peter spoke, so -quietly that he hardly startled her. She turned about with a little -choking breath, said, "Oh, is it you?" in a tone of relief, and resumed -her former position. - -"I wish I could help make it easier," said Peter, very gently. "You 've -made things easier for me so many times, first and last." - -"You do," said Shirley, in a half-whisper. - -"Do I? I'm glad. But how?" - -"Just by being there." - -Peter's face lighted up. This was a most unusual tribute from his -independent little friend. He got slowly to his crutches, and with a -greater effort than he had yet made, came stumping round to her side of -the pillar, and stood near her, leaning against a great green tub which -held a towering palm. He felt somehow as if he must be literally upon -his feet in order to stand by her in this crisis. - -Both were silent again for some minutes, until suddenly Shirley looked -round at him, and exclaimed, "Why, I mustn't let you stand like this! -Please sit down again." - -"Not unless you do." - -"Why? I 'm not tired." - -"But I want to be near you. I 've done nothing all the evening but envy -the men who could get about and do things for you." - -"You 'll soon be walking off at your usual breakneck pace," said -Shirley, the colour coming back with a rush into cheeks which had been -pale since Olive went. - -"To the office--yes--your office. I can hardly wait. But I wonder -sometimes if I can keep my wits and do my work there." - -"Why not?" - -"Don't you know why?" - -Shirley's little moist ball of a handkerchief was all at once being -clutched very tight in her fingers. She shook her head. - -"I think you do. I think you must know why I 'm half out of my head -with the prospect of being manager of the new house of Townsend & Son." - -"I 'm glad that you like the prospect," said Shirley, in the lowest of -voices, and looking anywhere but at Peter. - -"Are you? Do _you_ like it?" - -"Very much." - -Peter forgot his crutches, and one of them fell with a rattle at -Shirley's feet. She would have bent to pick it up, but he prevented -her, and laboriously reached for it himself. - -"I 'm not going," said Peter, deliberately, "to let you wait on me, when -all in life I want is the chance to serve you--all my life." - -"It would be a very poor partnership," said Shirley, in a half-whisper, -after a minute--and Peter's heart stopped beating--"if the serving were -all on one side"--and Peter's heart went thumping on again, though not -in proper rhythm. - -"Partnership! _Is_ it a partnership, Shirley?" - -She nodded. But she moved three steps out of reach. Peter made a hasty -movement, and both crutches slipped down to the floor with a crash, and -slid away off the edge of the porch to the ground. Peter glared after -them. Then he looked at Shirley, standing there, rose-cheeked, her -tear-wet eyes now full of laughter. - -"Oh, _please_ get them for me, dear!" he pleaded. "Or--no--never mind -the crutches! Just--_come here_!" - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROUND THE CORNER IN GAY STREET -*** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/42370 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the -General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and -distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the -Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a -registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, -unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything -for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. 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