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diff --git a/4376-h/4376-h.htm b/4376-h/4376-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4297a76 --- /dev/null +++ b/4376-h/4376-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10714 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Sowing Seeds in Danny, by Nellie L. McClung +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sowing Seeds in Danny, by Nellie L. McClung + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sowing Seeds in Danny + +Author: Nellie L. McClung + +Posting Date: August 1, 2009 [EBook #4376] +Release Date: August, 2003 +First Posted: January 19, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOWING SEEDS IN DANNY *** + + + + +Produced by University of Pennsylvania project "A +Celebration of Women Writers" and by Gardner Buchanan. +HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +Sowing Seeds in Danny +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +Nellie L. McClung +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +This story is lovingly dedicated to my dear mother. +</H3> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + "SO MANY FAITHS—SO MANY CREEDS,—<BR> + SO MANY PATHS THAT WIND AND WIND<BR> + WHILE JUST THE ART OF BEING KIND,—<BR> + IS WHAT THE OLD WORLD NEEDS!"<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +People of the Story +</H3> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MRS. BURTON FRANCIS—a dreamy woman, who has beautiful theories. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MR. FRANCIS—her silent husband. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +CAMILLA ROSE—a capable young woman who looks after Mrs. Francis's + domestic affairs, and occasionally helps her to apply her theories. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +THE WATSON FAMILY, consisting of— +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + JOHN WATSON—a man of few words who works on the "Section."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + MRS. WATSON—who washes for Mrs. Francis.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + PEARL WATSON—an imaginative, clever little girl, twelve years old, + who is the mainstay of the family.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + MARY WATSON—a younger sister.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + TEDDY WATSON.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + BILLY WATSON.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + JIMMY WATSON.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + PATSEY WATSON.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + TOMMY WATSON.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + ROBERT ROBLIN WATSON, known as "Bugsey."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + DANIEL MULCAHEY WATSON—"Wee Danny."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + "Teddy will be fourteen on St. Patrick's Day and Danny + will be four come March."<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MRS. McGUIRE—an elderly Irishwoman of uncertain temper who lives + on the next lot.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +DR. BARNER—the old doctor of the village, clever man in his + profession, but of intemperate habits.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MARY BARNER—his beautiful daughter. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +DR. HORACE CLAY—a young doctor, who has recently come to the village. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +REV. HUGH GRANTLEY—the young minister. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +SAMUEL MOTHERWELL—a well off but very stingy farmer. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MRS. MOTHERWELL—his wife. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +TOM MOTHERWELL—their son. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +ARTHUR WEMYSS—a young Englishman who is trying to learn to farm. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +JIM RUSSELL—an ambitious young farmer who lives near the Motherwells. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +JAMES DUCKER—a retired farmer, who has political aspirations. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">Sowing Seeds in Danny</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">The Old Doctor</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">The Pink Lady</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">The Band of Hope</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">The Relict of the Late McGuire</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">The Musical Sense</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">"One of Manitoba's Prosperous Farmers"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">The Other Doctor</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">The Live Wire</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">The Butcher Ride</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">How Pearl Watson Wiped out the Stain</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">From Camilla's Diary</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">The Fifth Son</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">The Faith that Moveth Mountains</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">"Inasmuch"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">How Polly Went Home</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">"Egbert and Edythe"</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">The Party at Slater's</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">Pearl's Diary</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">Tom's New Viewpoint</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">The Crack in the Granite</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">Shadows</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">Saved</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">The Harvest</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">Cupid's Emissary</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">The Thanksgiving</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">Conclusion: </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">Convincing Camilla</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +Sowing Seeds in Danny +</H2> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SOWING SEEDS IN DANNY +</H3> + +<P> +In her comfortable sitting room Mrs. J. Burton Francis sat, at peace +with herself and all mankind. The glory of the short winter afternoon +streamed into the room and touched with new warmth and tenderness the +face of a Madonna on the wall. +</P> + +<P> +The whole room suggested peace. The quiet elegance of its furnishings, +the soft leather-bound books on the table, the dreamy face of the +occupant, who sat with folded hands looking out of the window, were all +in strange contrast to the dreariness of the scene below, where the one +long street of the little Manitoba town, piled high with snow, +stretched away into the level, white, never-ending prairie. A farmer +tried to force his tired horses through the drifts; a little boy with a +milk-pail plodded bravely from door to door, sometimes laying down his +burden to blow his breath on his stinging fingers. +</P> + +<P> +The only sound that disturbed the quiet of the afternoon in Mrs. +Francis's sitting room was the regular rub-rub of the wash-board in the +kitchen below. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Watson is slow with the washing to-day," Mrs. Francis murmured +with a look of concern on her usually placid face. "Possibly she is not +well. I will call her and see." +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Watson, will you come upstairs, please?" she called from the +stairway. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Watson, slow and shambling, came up the stairs, and stood in the +doorway wiping her face on her apron. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it me ye want ma'am?" she asked when she had recovered her breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Mrs. Watson," Mrs. Francis said sweetly. "I thought perhaps you +were not feeling well to-day. I have not heard you singing at your +work, and the washing seems to have gone slowly. You must be very +careful of your health, and not overdo your strength." +</P> + +<P> +While she was speaking, Mrs. Watson's eyes were busy with the room, the +pictures on the wall, the cosey window-seat with its numerous cushions; +the warmth and brightness of it all brought a glow to her tired face. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am," she said, "thank ye kindly, ma'am. It is very kind of ye +to be thinkin' o' the likes of me." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, we should always think of others, you know," Mrs. Francis replied +quickly with her most winning smile, as she seated herself in a +rocking-chair. "Are the children all well? Dear little Danny, how is +he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Indade, ma'am, that same Danny is the upsettinest one of the nine, and +him only four come March. It was only this morn's mornin' that he sez +to me, sez he, as I was comin' away, 'Ma, d'ye think she'll give ye pie +for your dinner? Thry and remimber the taste of it, won't ye ma, and +tell us when ye come home,' sez he." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the sweet prattle of childhood," said Mrs. Francis, clasping her +shapely white hands. "How very interesting it must be to watch their +young minds unfolding as the flower! Is it nine little ones you have, +Mrs. Watson?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, nine it is, ma'am. God save us. Teddy will be fourteen on St. +Patrick's Day, and all the rest are younger." +</P> + +<P> +"It is a great responsibility to be a mother, and yet how few there be +that think of it," added Mrs. Francis, dreamily. +</P> + +<P> +"Thrue for ye ma'am," Mrs. Watson broke in. "There's my own man, John +Watson. That man knows no more of what it manes than you do yerself +that hasn't one at all at all, the Lord be praised; and him the father +of nine." +</P> + +<P> +"I have just been reading a great book by Dr. Ernestus Parker, on +'Motherhood.' It would be a great benefit to both you and your husband." +</P> + +<P> +"Och, ma'am," Mrs. Watson broke in, hastily, "John is no hand for books +and has always had his suspicions o' them since his own mother's +great-uncle William Mulcahey got himself transported durin' life or +good behaviour for havin' one found on him no bigger'n an almanac, at +the time of the riots in Ireland. No, ma'am, John wouldn't rade it at +all at all, and he don't know one letther from another, what's more." +</P> + +<P> +"Then if you would read it and explain it to him, it would be so +helpful to you both, and so inspiring. It deals so ably with the +problems of child-training. You must be puzzled many times in the +training of so many little minds, and Dr. Parker really does throw +wonderful light on all the problems that confront mothers. And I am +sure the mother of nine must have a great many perplexities." +</P> + +<P> +Yes, Mrs. Watson had a great many perplexities—how to make trousers +for four boys out of the one old pair the minister's wife had given +her; how to make the memory of the rice-pudding they had on Sunday last +all the week; how to work all day and sew at night, and still be brave +and patient; how to make little Danny and Bugsey forget they were cold +and hungry. Yes, Mrs. Watson had her problems; but they were not the +kind that Dr. Ernestus Parker had dealt with in his book on +"Motherhood." +</P> + +<P> +"But I must not keep you, Mrs. Watson," Mrs. Francis said, as she +remembered the washing. "When you go downstairs will you kindly bring +me up a small red notebook that you will find on the desk in the +library?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes ma'am," said Mrs. Watson, and went heavily down the stairs. She +found the book and brought it up. +</P> + +<P> +While she was making the second laborious journey down the softly +padded stairs, Mrs. Francis was making an entry in the little red book. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + Dec. 7, 1903. Talked with one woman to-day RE Beauty + of Motherhood. Recommended Dr. Parker's book. Believe + good done. +</P> + +<P> +Then she closed the book with a satisfied feeling. She was going to +have a very full report for her department at the next Annual +Convention of the Society for Propagation of Lofty Ideals. +</P> + +<P> +In another part of the same Manitoba town lived John Watson, +unregenerate hater of books, his wife and their family of nine. Their +first dwelling when they had come to Manitoba from the Ottawa Valley, +thirteen years ago, had been C. P. R. box-car No. 722, but this had +soon to be enlarged, which was done by adding to it other car-roofed +shanties. One of these was painted a bright yellow and was a little +larger than the others. It had been the caboose of a threshing outfit +that John had worked for in '96. John was the fireman and when the +boiler blew up and John was carried home insensible the "boys" felt +that they should do something for the widow and orphans. They raised +one hundred and sixty dollars forthwith, every man contributing his +wages for the last four days. The owner of the outfit, Sam Motherwell, +in a strange fit of generosity, donated the caboose. +</P> + +<P> +The next fall Sam found that he needed the caboose himself, and came +with his trucks to take it back. He claimed that he had given it with +the understanding that John was going to die. John had not fulfilled +his share of the contract, and Sam felt that his generosity had been +misplaced. +</P> + +<P> +John was cutting wood beside his dwelling when Sam arrived with his +trucks, and accused him of obtaining goods under false pretences. John +was a man of few words and listened attentively to Sam's reasoning. +From the little window of the caboose came the discordant wail of a +very young infant, and old Sam felt his claims growing more and more +shadowy. +</P> + +<P> +John took the pipe from his mouth and spat once at the woodpile. Then, +jerking his thumb toward the little window, he said briefly: +</P> + +<P> +"Twins. Last night." +</P> + +<P> +Sam Motherwell mounted his trucks and drove away. He knew when he was +beaten. +</P> + +<P> +The house had received additions on every side, until it seemed to +threaten to run over the edge of the lot, and looked like a section of +a wrecked freight train, with its yellow refrigerator car. +</P> + +<P> +The snow had drifted up to the windows, and entirely over the little +lean-to that had been erected at the time that little Danny had added +his feeble wail to the general family chorus. +</P> + +<P> +But the smoke curled bravely up from the chimney into the frosty air, +and a snug pile of wood by the "cheek of the dure" gave evidence of +John's industry, notwithstanding his dislike of the world's best +literature. +</P> + +<P> +Inside the floor was swept and the stove was clean, and an air of +comfort was over all, in spite of the evidence of poverty. A great +variety of calendars hung on the wall. Every store in town it seems had +sent one this year, last year and the year before. A large poster of +the Winnipeg Industrial Exhibition hung in the parlour, and a +Massey-Harris self-binder, in full swing, propelled by three maroon +horses, swept through a waving field of golden grain, driven by an +adipose individual in blue shirt and grass-green overalls. An enlarged +picture of John himself glared grimly from a very heavy frame, on the +opposite wall, the grimness of it somewhat relieved by the row of +Sunday-school "big cards" that were stuck in around the frame. +</P> + +<P> +On the afternoon that Mrs. Watson had received the uplifting talk on +motherhood, and Mrs. Francis had entered it in the little red book, +Pearlie Watson, aged twelve, was keeping the house, as she did six days +in the week. The day was too cold for even Jimmy to be out, and so all +except the three eldest boys were in the kitchen variously engaged. +Danny under promise of a story was in the high chair submitting to a +thorough going over with soap and water. Patsey, looking up from his +self-appointed task of brushing the legs of the stove with the +hair-brush, loudly demanded that the story should begin at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Story, is it?" cried Pearlie in her wrath, as she took the hair-brush +from Patsey. "What time have I to be thinkin' of stories and you that +full of badness. My heart is bruck wid ye." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be good now," Patsey said, penitently, sitting on the wood-box, +and tenderly feeling his skinned nose. "I got hurt to-day, mind that, +Pearlie." +</P> + +<P> +"So ye did, poor bye," said Pearlie, her wrath all gone, "and what will +I tell yez about, my beauties?" +</P> + +<P> +"The pink lady where Jimmy brings the milk," said Patsey promptly. +</P> + +<P> +"But it's me that's gettin' combed," wailed Danny. "I should say what +ye'r to tell, Pearlie." +</P> + +<P> +"True for ye," said Pearlie, "Howld ye'r tongue, Patsey. What will I +tell about, honey?" +</P> + +<P> +"What Patsey said'll do" said Danny with an injured air, "and don't +forget the chockalut drops she had the day ma was there and say she +sent three o' them to me, and you can have one o' them, Pearlie." +</P> + +<P> +"And don't forget the big plate o' potatoes and gravy and mate she gave +the dog, and the cake she threw in the fire to get red of it," said +Mary, who was knitting a sock for Teddy. +</P> + +<P> +"No, don't tell that," said Jimmy, "it always makes wee Bugsey cry." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," began Pearlie, as she had done many times before. "Once upon a +time not very long ago, there lived a lovely pink lady in a big house +painted red, with windies in ivery side of it, and a bell on the front +dure, and a velvet carpet on the stair and—" +</P> + +<P> +"What's a stair?' asked Bugsey. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a lot of boxes piled up higher and higher, and nailed down tight +so that ye can walk on them, and when ye get away up high, there is +another house right farninst ye—well anyway, there was a lovely pianny +in the parlow, and flowers in the windies, and two yalla burds that +sing as if their hearts wud break, and the windies had a border of +coloured glass all around them, and long white curtings full of holes, +but they like them all the better o' that, for it shows they are owld +and must ha' been good to ha' stood it so long. Well, annyway, there +was a little boy called Jimmie Watson"—here all eyes were turned on +Jimmy, who was sitting on the floor mending his moccasin with a piece +of sinew. "There was a little boy called Jimmy Watson who used to carry +milk to the lady's back dure, and a girl with black eyes and white +teeth all smiley used to take it from him, and put it in a lovely +pitcher with birds flying all over it. But one day the lady, herself, +was there all dressed in lovely pink velvet and lace, and a train as +long as from me to you, and she sez to Jimmy, sez she, 'Have you any +sisters or brothers at home,' and Jim speaks up real proud-like, 'Just +nine,' he sez, and sez she, swate as you please, 'Oh, that's lovely! +Are they all as purty as you?' she sez, and Jimmy sez, 'Purtier if +anything,' and she sez, 'I'll be steppin' over to-day to see yer ma,' +and Jim ran home and told them all, and they all got brushed and combed +and actin' good, and in she comes, laving her carriage at the dure, and +her in a long pink velvet cape draggin' behind her on the flure, and +wide white fer all around it, her silk skirts creakin' like a bag of +cabbage and the eyes of her just dancin' out of her head, and she says, +'These are fine purty childer ye have here, Mrs. Watson. This is a rale +purty girl, this oldest one. What's her name?' and ma ups and tells her +it is Rebecca Jane Pearl, named for her two grandmothers, and Pearl +just for short. She says, 'I'll be for taking you home wid me, Pearlie, +to play the pianny for me,' and then she asks all around what the +children's names is, and then she brings out a big box, from under her +cape, all tied wid store string, and she planks it on the table and +tearin' off the string, she sez, 'Now, Pearlie, it's ladies first, +tibby sure. What would you like to see in here?' And I says up +quick—'A long coat wid fer on it, and a handkerchief smellin' strong +of satchel powder,' and she whipped them out of the box and threw them +on my knee, and a new pair of red mitts too. And then she says, 'Mary, +acushla, it's your turn now.' And Mary says, 'A doll with a real head +on it,' and there it was as big as Danny, all dressed in green satin, +opening its eyes, if you plaze." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, me!" roared Danny, squirming in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"'Daniel Mulcahey Watson, what wud you like?' she says, and Danny ups +and says, 'Chockaluts and candy men and taffy and curren' buns and +ginger bread,' and she had every wan of them." +</P> + +<P> +"'Robert Roblin Watson, him as they call Bugsey, what would you like?' +and 'Patrick Healy Watson, as is called Patsey, what is your choice?' +says she, and—" +</P> + +<P> +In the confusion that ensued while these two young gentlemen thus +referred to stated their modest wishes, their mother came in, tired and +pale, from her hard day's work. +</P> + +<P> +"How is the pink lady to-day, ma?" asked Pearlie, setting Danny down +and beginning operations on Bugsey. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, she's as swate as ever, an' can talk that soft and kind about +children as to melt the heart in ye." +</P> + +<P> +Danny crept up on his mother's knee "Ma, did she give ye pie?" he +asked, wistfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, me beauty, and she sent this to you wid her love," and Mrs. +Watson took a small piece out of a newspaper from under her cape. It +was the piece that had been set on the kitchen table for Mrs. Watson's +dinner. Danny called them all to have a bite. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure it's the first bite that's always the best, a body might not like +it so well on the second," said Jimmy as he took his, but Bugsey +refused to have any at all. "Wan bite's no good," he said, "it just +lets yer see what yer missin." +</P> + +<P> +"D'ye think she'll ever come to see us, ma?" asked Pearlie, as she set +Danny in the chair to give him his supper. The family was fed in +divisions. Danny was always in Division A. +</P> + +<P> +"Her? Is it?" said Mrs. Watson and they all listened, for Pearlie's +story to-day had far surpassed all her former efforts, and it seemed as +if there must be some hope of its coming true. "Why och! childer dear, +d'ye think a foine lady like her would be bothered with the likes of +us? She is r'adin' her book, and writin' letthers, and thinkin' great +thoughts, all the time. When she was speakin' to me to-day, she looked +at me so wonderin' and faraway I could see that she thought I wasn't +there at all at all, and me farninst her all the time—no childer, +dear, don't be thinkin' of it, and Pearlie, I think ye'd better not be +puttin' notions inter their heads. Yer father wouldn't like it. Well +Danny, me man, how goes it?" went on Mrs. Watson, as her latest born +was eating his rather scanty supper. "It's not skim milk and dhry bread +ye'd be havin', if you were her child this night, but taffy candy +filled wid nuts and chunks o' cake as big as yer head." Whereupon Danny +wailed dismally, and had to be taken from his chair and have the +"Little Boy Blue" sung to him, before he could be induced to go on with +his supper. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning when Jimmy brought the milk to Mrs. Francis's back +door the dark-eyed girl with the "smiley" teeth let him in, and set a +chair beside the kitchen stove for him to warm his little blue hands. +While she was emptying the milk into the pitcher with the birds on it, +Mrs. Francis, with a wonderful pink kimono on, came into the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is this boy, Camilla?" she asked, regarding Jimmy with a critical +gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"This is Master James Watson, Mrs. Francis," answered Camilla with her +pleasant smile. "He brings the milk every morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes; of course, I remember now," said Mrs. Francis, adjusting her +glasses. "How old is the baby, James?" +</P> + +<P> +"Danny is it?" said Jim. "He's four come March." +</P> + +<P> +"Is he very sweet and cunning James, and do you love him very much?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he's all right," Jim answered sheepishly. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a great privilege to have a little brother like Daniel. You must +be careful to set before him a good example of honesty and sobriety. He +will be a man some day, and if properly trained he may be a useful +factor in the uplifting and refining of the world. I love little +children," she went on rapturously, looking at Jimmy as if he wasn't +there at all, "and I would love to train one, for service in the world +to uplift and refine." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes ma'am," said Jimmy. He felt that something was expected of him, +but he was not sure what. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you bring Daniel to see me to-morrow, James?" she said, as +Camilla handed him his pail. "I would like to speak to his young mind +and endeavour to plant the seeds of virtue and honesty in that fertile +soil." +</P> + +<P> +When Jimmy got home he told Pearlie of his interview with the pink +lady, as much as he could remember. The only thing that he was sure of +was that she wanted to see Danny, and that she had said something about +planting seeds in him. +</P> + +<P> +Jimmy and Pearlie thought it best not to mention Danny's proposed visit +to their mother, for they knew that she would be fretting about his +clothes, and would be sitting up mending and sewing for him when she +should be sleeping. So they resolved to say "nothin' to nobody." +</P> + +<P> +The next day their mother went away early to wash for the Methodist +minister's wife, and that was always a long day's work. +</P> + +<P> +Then the work of preparation began on Danny. A wash-basin full of snow +was put on the stove to melt, and Danny was put in the high chair which +was always the place of his ablutions. +</P> + +<P> +Pearlie began to think aloud. "Bugsey, your stockin's are the best. Off +wid them, Mary, and mend the hole in the knees of them, and, Bugsey, +hop into bed for we'll be needin' your pants anyway. It's awful stylish +for a little lad like Danny to be wearin' pants under his dresses, and +now what about boots? Let's see yours, Patsey. They're all gone in the +uppers, and Billy's are too big, even if they were here, but they're +off to school on him. I'll tell you what Mary, hurry up wid that sock +o' Ted's and we'll draw them on him over Bugsey's boots and purtind +they're overstockin's, and I'll carry him all the way so's not to dirty +them." +</P> + +<P> +Mary stopped her dish-washing, and drying her hands on the thin towel +that hung over the looking glass, found her knitting and began to knit +at the top of her speed. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it good we have that dress o' his, so good yet, that he got when +we had all of yez christened. Put the irons on there Mary; never mind, +don't stop your knittin'. I'll do it myself. We'll press it out a bit, +and we can put ma's handkerchief, the one pa gev her for Christmas, +around his neck, sort o' sailor collar style, to show he's a boy. And +now the snow is melted, I'll go at him. Don't cry now Danny, man, yer +going' up to the big house where the lovely pink lady lives that has +the chocaklut drops on her stand and chunks of cake on the table wid +nuts in them as big as marbles. There now," continued Pearlie, putting +the towel over her finger and penetrating Danny's ear, "she'll not say +she can plant seeds in you. Yer ears are as clean as hers," and Pearlie +stood back and took a critical view of Danny's ears front and back. +</P> + +<P> +"Chockaluts?" asked Danny to be sure that he hadn't been mistaken. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," went on Pearlie to keep him still while she fixed his shock of +red hair into stubborn little curls, and she told again with ever +growing enthusiasm the story of the pink lady, and the wonderful things +she had in the box tied up with store string. +</P> + +<P> +At last Danny was completed and stood on a chair for inspection. But +here a digression from the main issue occurred, for Bugsey had grown +tired of his temporary confinement and complained that Patsey had not +contributed one thing to Danny's wardrobe while he had had to give up +both his stockings and his pants. +</P> + +<P> +Pearlie stopped in the work of combing her own hair to see what could +be done. +</P> + +<P> +"Patsey, where's your gum?" she asked. "Git it for me this minute," and +Patsey went to the "fallen leaf" of the table and found it on the +inside where he had put it for safe keeping. +</P> + +<P> +"Now you give that to Bugsey," she said, "and that'll make it kind o' +even though it does look as if you wuz gettin' off pretty light." +</P> + +<P> +Pearlie struggled with her hair to make it lie down and "act dacint," +but the image that looked back at her from the cracked glass was not +encouraging, even after making allowance for the crack, but she +comforted herself by saying, "Sure it's Danny she wants to see, and she +won't be lookin' much at me anyway." +</P> + +<P> +Then the question arose, and for a while looked serious— What was +Danny to wear on his head? Danny had no cap, nor ever had one. There +was one little red toque in the house that Patsey wore, but by an +unfortunate accident, it had that very morning fallen into the milk +pail and was now drying on the oven door. For a while it seemed as if +the visit would have to be postponed until it dried, when Mary had an +inspiration. +</P> + +<P> +"Wrap yer cloud around his head and say you wuz feart of the earache, +the day is so cold." +</P> + +<P> +This was done and a blanket off one of the beds was pressed into +service as an outer wrap for Danny. He was in such very bad humour at +being wrapped up so tight that Pearlie had to set him down on the bed +again to get a fresh grip on him. +</P> + +<P> +"It's just as well I have no mitts," she said as she lifted her heavy +burden. "I couldn't howld him at all if I was bothered with mitts. Open +the dure, Patsey, and mind you shut it tight again. Keep up the fire, +Mary. Bugsey, lie still and chew your gum, and don't fight any of yez." +</P> + +<P> +When Pearlie and her heavy burden arrived at Mrs. Francis's back door +they were admitted by the dark-haired Camilla, who set a rocking-chair +beside the kitchen stove for Pearlie to sit in while she unrolled +Danny, and when Danny in his rather remarkable costume stood up on +Pearlie's knee, Camilla laughed so good humouredly that Danny felt the +necessity of showing her all his accomplishments and so made the face +that Patsey had taught him by drawing down his eyes, and putting his +fingers in his mouth. Danny thought she liked it very much, for she +went hurriedly into the pantry and brought back a cookie for him. +</P> + +<P> +The savoury smell of fried salmon, for it was near lunch time, +increased Danny's interest in his surroundings, and his eyes were big +with wonder when Mrs. Francis herself came in. +</P> + +<P> +"And is this little Daniel!" she cried rapturously. "So sweet; so +innocent; so pure! Did Big Sister carry him all the way? Kind Big +Sister. Does oo love Big Sister?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nope," Danny spoke up quickly, "just like chockaluts." +</P> + +<P> +"How sweet of him, isn't it, really?" she said, "with the world all +before him, the great untried future lying vast and prophetic waiting +for his baby feet to enter. Well has Dr. Parker said; 'A little child +is a bundle of possibilities and responsibilities.'" +</P> + +<P> +"If ye please, ma'am," Pearlie said timidly, not wishing to contradict +the lady, but still anxious to set her right, "it was just this blanket +I had him rolled in." +</P> + +<P> +At which Camilla again retired to the pantry with precipitate haste. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you see the blue, blue sky, Daniel, and the white, white snow, and +did you see the little snow-birds, whirling by like brown leaves?" Mrs. +Francis asked with an air of great childishness. +</P> + +<P> +"Nope," said Danny shortly, "didn't see nothin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Please, ma'am," began Pearlie again, "it was the cloud around his head +on account of the earache that done it." +</P> + +<P> +"It is sweet to look into his innocent young eyes and wonder what +visions they will some day see," went on Mrs. Francis, dreamily, but +there she stopped with a look of horror frozen on her face, for at the +mention of his eyes Danny remembered his best trick and how well it had +worked on Camilla, and in a flash his eyes were drawn down and his +mouth stretched to its utmost limit. +</P> + +<P> +"What ails the child?" Mrs. Francis cried in alarm. "Camilla, come +here." +</P> + +<P> +Camilla came out of the pantry and gazed at Danny with sparkling eyes, +while Pearlie, on the verge of tears, vainly tried to awaken in him +some sense of the shame he was bringing on her. Camilla hurried to the +pantry again, and brought another cookie. "I believe, Mrs. Francis, +that Danny is hungry," she said. "Children sometimes act that way," she +added, laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Really, how very interesting; I must see if Dr. Parker mentions this +strange phenomenon in his book." +</P> + +<P> +"Please, ma'am, I think I had better take him home now," said Pearlie. +She knew what Danny was, and was afraid that greater disgrace might +await her. But when she tried to get him back into the blanket he lost +every joint in his body and slipped to the floor. This is what she had +feared—Danny had gone limber. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to go home" he wailed dismally. "I want to stay with her, +and her; want to see the yalla burds, want a chockalut." +</P> + +<P> +"Come Danny, that's a man," pleaded Pearlie, "and I'll tell you all +about the lovely pink lady when we go home, and I'll get Bugsey's gum +for ye and I'll—" +</P> + +<P> +"No," Danny roared, "tell me how about the pink lady, tell her, and +her." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait till we get home, Danny man." Pearlie's grief flowed afresh. +Disgrace had fallen on the Watsons, and Pearlie knew it. +</P> + +<P> +"It would be interesting to know what mental food this little mind has +been receiving. Please do tell him the story, Pearlie." +</P> + +<P> +Thus admonished, Pearlie, with flaming cheeks began the story. She +tried to make it less personal, but at every change Danny screamed his +disapproval, and held her to the original version, and when it was +done, he looked up with his sweet little smile, and said to Mrs. +Francis nodding his head. "You're it! You're the lovely pink lady." +There was a strange flush on Mrs. Francis's face, and a strange feeling +stirring her heart, as she hurriedly rose from her chair and clasped +Danny in her arms. +</P> + +<P> +"Danny! Danny!" she cried, "you shall see the yellow birds, and the +stairs, and the chocolates on the dresser, and the pink lady will come +to-morrow with the big parcel." +</P> + +<P> +Danny's little arms tightened around her neck. +</P> + +<P> +"It's her," he shouted. "It's her." +</P> + +<P> +When Mrs. Burton Francis went up to her sitting-room, a few hours later +to get the "satchel" powder to put in the box that was to be tied with +the store string, the sun was shining on the face of the Madonna on the +wall, and it seemed to smile at her as she passed. +</P> + +<P> +The little red book lay on the table forgotten. She tossed it into the +waste-paper basket. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE OLD DOCTOR +</H3> + +<P> +Close beside Mrs. Francis's comfortable home stood another large house, +weather-beaten and dreary looking, a house whose dilapidated verandas +and broken fence clearly indicated that its good days had gone by. In +the summer-time vines and flowers grew around it to hide its scars and +relieve its grimness, pathetic as a brave smile on a sad face. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Barner, brilliant, witty and skilful, had for many years been a +victim of intemperance, but being Scotch to the backbone, he never +could see how good, pure "Kilmarnock," made in Glasgow, could hurt +anyone. He knew that his hand shook, and his brain reeled, and his eyes +were bleared; but he never blamed the whiskey. He knew that his +patients sometimes died while he was enjoying a protracted drunk, but +of course, accidents will happen, and a doctor's accidents are soon +buried and forgotten. Even in his worst moments, if he could be induced +to come to the sick bed, he would sober up wonderfully, and many a +sufferer was relieved from pain and saved from death by his gentle and +skilful, though trembling, hands. He might not be able to walk across +the room, but he could diagnose correctly and prescribe successfully. +</P> + +<P> +When he came to Millford years ago, his practice grew rapidly. People +wondered why he came to such a small place, for his skill, his wit, his +wonderful presence would have won distinction anywhere. +</P> + +<P> +His wife, a frail though very beautiful woman, at first thought nothing +of his drinking habits—he was never anything but gentlemanly in her +presence. But the time came when she saw honour and manhood slowly but +surely dying in him, and on her heart there fell the terrible weight of +a powerless despair. Her health had never been robust and she quickly +sank into invalidism. +</P> + +<P> +The specialist who came from Winnipeg diagnosed her case as chronic +anaemia and prescribed port wine, which she refused with a queer little +wavering cry and a sudden rush of tears. But she put up a good fight +nevertheless. She wanted to live so much, for the sake of Mary, her +beautiful fifteen-year-old daughter. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Barner did not live to see the whole work of degeneration, for the +end came in the early spring, swift and sudden and kind. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor's grief for his wife was sincere. He always referred to her +as "my poor Mildred," and never spoke of her except when comparatively +sober. +</P> + +<P> +Mary Barner took up the burden of caring for her father without +question, for she loved him with a great and pitying love, to which he +responded in his best moments. In the winter she went with him on his +drives night and day, for the fear of what might happen was always in +her heart. She was his housekeeper, his office-girl, his bookkeeper; +she endured all things, loneliness, poverty, disgrace, without +complaining or bitterness. +</P> + +<P> +One day shortly after Mrs. Barner's death big John Robertson from "the +hills" drove furiously down the street to the doctor's house, and +rushed into the office without ringing the bell. His little boy had +been cut with the mower-knives, and he implored the doctor to come at +once. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor sat at his desk, just drunk enough to be ugly-tempered, and +curtly told Mr. Robertson to go straight to perdition, and as the poor +man, wild with excitement, begged him to come and offered him money, he +yawned nonchalantly, and with some slight variations repeated the +injunction. +</P> + +<P> +Mary hearing the conversation came in hurriedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary, my dear," the doctor said, "please leave us. This gentleman is +quite forgetting himself and his language is shocking." Mary did not +even look at her father. She was packing his little satchel with all +that would be needed. +</P> + +<P> +"Now pick him up and take him," she said firmly to big John. "He'll be +all right when he sees your little boy, never mind what he says now." +</P> + +<P> +Big John seized the doctor and bore him struggling and protesting to +the wagon. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor made an effort to get out. +</P> + +<P> +"Put him down in the bottom with this under his head"—handing Big John +a cushion—"and put your feet on him," Mary commanded. +</P> + +<P> +Big John did as she bid him, none too gently, for he could still hear +his little boy's cries and see that cruel jagged wound. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't hurt him," she cried piteously, and ran sobbing into the +house. Upstairs, in what had been her mother's room, she pressed her +face against her mother's kimono that still hung behind the door. "I am +not crying for you to come back, mother," she sobbed bitterly, "I am +just crying for your little girl." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor was asleep when John reached his little shanty in the hills. +The child still lived, his Highland mother having stopped the blood +with rude bandaging and ashes, a remedy learned in her far-off island +home. +</P> + +<P> +John shook the doctor roughly and cursed him soundly in both English +and Gaelic, without avail, but the child's cry so full of pain and +weakness roused him with a start. In a minute Dr. Frederick Barner was +himself. He took the child gently from his mother and laid him on the +bed. +</P> + +<P> +For two days the doctor stayed in John's dirty little shanty, caring +for little Murdock as tenderly as a mother. He cooked for the child, he +sang to him, he carried him in his arms for hours, and soothed him with +a hundred quaint fancies. He superintended the cleaning of the house +and scolded John's wife soundly on her shiftless ways; he showed her +how to bake bread and cook little dishes to tempt the child's appetite, +winning thereby her undying gratitude. She understood but little of the +scolding, but she saw his kindness to her little boy, for kindness is +the same in all languages. +</P> + +<P> +On the third day, the little fellow's fever went down and, peeping over +the doctor's shoulder, he smiled and chattered and asked for his +"daddy" and his "mathar." +</P> + +<P> +Then Big John broke down utterly and tried to speak his gratitude, but +the doctor abruptly told him to quit his blubbering and hitch up, for +little Murdock would be chasing the hens again in a week or two. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor went faithfully every day and dressed little Murdock's wound +until it no longer needed his care, remaining perfectly sober +meanwhile. Hope sprang up in Mary's heart—for love believeth all +things. +</P> + +<P> +At night when he went to bed and she carefully locked the doors and +took the keys to her room, she breathed a sigh of relief. One more day +won! +</P> + +<P> +But alas for Mary's hopes! They were built upon the slipping, sliding +sands of human desire. One night she found him in the office of the +hotel; a red-faced, senseless, gibbering old man, arguing theology with +a brother Scotchman, who was in the same condition of mellow +exhilaration. +</P> + +<P> +Mary's white face as she guided her father through the door had an +effect upon the men who sat around the office. Kind-hearted fellows +they were, and they felt sorry for the poor little motherless girl, +sorry for "old Doc" too. One after another they went home, feeling just +a little ashamed. +</P> + +<P> +The bartender, a new one from across the line, a dapper chap with +diamonds, was indignant. "I'll give that old man a straight pointer," +he said, "that his girl has to stay out of here. This is no place for +women, anyway"—which is true, God knows. +</P> + +<P> +Five years went by and Mary Barner lived on in the lonely house and did +all that human power could do to stay her father's evil course. But the +years told heavily upon him. He had made some fatal mistakes in his +prescribing, and the people had been compelled to get in another +doctor, though a great many of those who had known him in his best days +still clung to the "old man" in spite of his drinking. They could not +forget how he had fought with death for them and for their children. +</P> + +<P> +Of all his former skill but little remained now except his wonderful +presence in the sick-room. +</P> + +<P> +He could still inspire the greatest confidence and hope. Still at his +coming a sick man's fears fell away from him, and in their stead came +hope and good cheer. This was the old man's good gift that even his +years of sinning could not wholly destroy. God had marked him for a +great physician. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PINK LADY +</H3> + +<P> +When Mrs. Francis decided to play the Lady Bountiful to the Watson +family, she not only ministered to their physical necessity but she +conscientiously set about to do them good, if they would be done good +to. Mrs. Francis's heart was kind, when you could get to it; but it was +so deeply crusted over with theories and reflections and abstract +truths that not very many people knew that she had one. +</P> + +<P> +When little Danny's arms were thrown around her neck, and he called her +his dear sweet, pink lady, her pseudo-intellectuality broke down before +a power which had lain dormant. She had always talked a great deal of +the joys of motherhood, and the rapturous delights of mother-love. Not +many of the mothers knew as much of the proper care of an infant during +the period of dentition as she. She had read papers at mothers' +meetings, and was as full of health talks as a school physiology. +</P> + +<P> +But it was the touch of Danny's soft cheek and clinging arms that +brought to her the rapture that is so sweet it hurts, and she realised +that she had missed the sweetest thing in life. A tiny flame of real +love began to glimmer in her heart and feebly shed its beams among the +debris of cold theories and second-hand sensations that had filled it +hitherto. +</P> + +<P> +She worried Danny with her attentions, although he tried hard to put up +with them. She was the lady of his dreams, for Pearl's imagination had +clothed her with all the virtues and graces. +</P> + +<P> +Hers was a strangely inconsistent character, spiritually minded, but +selfish; loving humanity when it is spelled with a capital, but knowing +nothing of the individual. The flower of holiness in her heart was like +the haughty orchid that blooms in the hothouse, untouched by wind or +cold, beautiful to behold but comforting no one with its beauty. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl Watson was like the rugged little anemone, the wind flower that +lifts its head from the cheerless prairie. No kind hand softens the +heat or the cold, nor tempers the wind, and yet the very winds that +blow upon it and the hot sun that beats upon it bring to it a grace, a +hardiness, a fragrance of good cheer, that gladdens the hearts of all +who pass that way. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis found herself strongly attracted to Pearl. Pearl, the +housekeeper, the homemaker, a child with a woman's responsibility, +appealed to Mrs. Francis. She thought about Pearl very often. +</P> + +<P> +Noticing one day that Pearl was thin and pale, she decided at once that +she needed a health talk. Pearl sat like a graven image while Mrs. +Francis conscientiously tried to stir up in her the seeds of right +living. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, ma!" Pearl said to her mother that night, when the children had +gone to bed and they were sewing by the fire. "Oh, ma! she told me more +to-day about me insides than I would care to remember. Mind ye, ma, +there's a sthring down yer back no bigger'n a knittin' needle, and if +ye ever broke it ye'd snuff out before ye knowed what ye was doin', and +there's a tin pan in yer ear that if ye got a dinge in it, it wouldn't +be worth a dhirty postage stamp for hearin' wid, and ye mustn't skip +ma, for it will disturb yer Latin parts, and ye mustn't eat seeds, or +ye'll get the thing that pa had—what is it called ma?" +</P> + +<P> +Her mother told her. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, appendicitis, that's what she said. I never knowed there were so +many places inside a person to go wrong, did ye, ma? I just thought we +had liver and lights and a few things like that." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry, alannah," her mother said soothingly, as she cut out the +other leg of Jimmy's pants. "The Lord made us right I guess, and he +won't let anything happen to us." +</P> + +<P> +But Pearl was not yet satisfied. "But, oh ma," she said, as she hastily +worked a buttonhole. "You don't know about the diseases that are goin' +'round. Mind ye, there's tuberoses in the cows even, and them that sly +about it, and there's diseases in the milk as big as a chew o' gum and +us not seein' them. Every drop of it we use should be scalded well, and +oh, ma, I wonder anyone of us is alive for we're not half clean! The +poison pours out of the skin night and day, carbolic acid she said, and +every last wan o' us should have a sponge bath at night—that's just to +slop yerself all up and down with a rag, and an oliver in the mornin'. +Ma, what's an oliver, d'ye think?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ask Camilla," Mrs. Watson said, somewhat alarmed at these hygienic +problems. "Camilla is grand at explaining Mrs. Francis's quare ways." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl's brown eyes were full of worry. +</P> + +<P> +"It's hard to git time to be healthy, ma," she said; "we should keep +the kittle bilin' all the time, she says, to keep the humanity in the +air—Oh, I wish she hadn't a told me, I never thought atin' hurt +anyone, but she says lots of things that taste good is black pison. +Isn't it quare, ma, the Lord put such poor works in us and us not there +at the time to raise a hand." +</P> + +<P> +They sewed in silence for a few minutes. +</P> + +<P> +Then Pearl said: "Let us go to bed now, ma, me eyes are shuttin'. I'll +go back to-morrow and ask Camilla about the 'oliver.'" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BAND OF HOPE +</H3> + +<P> +Mary Barner had learned the lesson early that the only easing of her +own pain was in helping others to bear theirs, and so it came about +that there was perhaps no one in Millford more beloved than she. +Perhaps it was the memory of her own lost childhood that caused her +heart to go out in love and sympathy to every little boy and girl in +the village. +</P> + +<P> +Their joys were hers; their sorrows also. She took slivers from little +fingers with great skill, beguiling the owners thereof with wonderful +songs and stories. She piloted weary little plodders through pages of +"homework." She mended torn "pinnies" so that even vigilant mothers +never knew that their little girls had jumped the fence at all. She +made dresses for concerts at short notice. She appeased angry parents, +and many a time prevented the fall of correction's rod. +</P> + +<P> +When Tommy Watson beguiled Ignatius McSorley, Jr., to leave his +mother's door, and go swimming in the river, promising faithfully to +"button up his back"—Ignatius being a wise child who knew his +limitations—and when Tommy Watson forgot that promise and basely +deserted Ignatius to catch on the back of a buggy that came along the +river road, leaving his unhappy friend clad in one small shirt, vainly +imploring him to return, Ignatius could not go home, for his mother +would know that he had again yielded to the siren's voice; so it was to +the Barner back door that he turned his guilty steps. Miss Barner was +talking to a patient in the office when she heard a small voice at the +kitchen door full of distress, whimpering: +</P> + +<P> +"Please Miss Barner, I'm in a bad way. Tommy Watson said he'd help me +and he never!" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Barner went quickly, and there on the doorstep stood a tiny cupid +in tears, tightly clasping his scanty wardrobe to his bosom. +</P> + +<P> +"He said he'd help me and he never!" he repeated in a burst of rage as +she drew him in hastily. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind, honey," she said, struggling to control her laughter. +"Just wait till I catch Tommy Watson!" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Barner was the assistant Band of Hope teacher. On Monday afternoon +it was part of her duty to go around and help the busy mothers to get +the children ready for the meeting. She also took her turn with Mrs. +White in making taffy, for they had learned that when temperance +sentiment waned, taffy, with nuts in it, had a wonderful power to bind +and hold the wavering childish heart. +</P> + +<P> +There was no human way of telling a taffy day—the only sure way was to +go every time. The two little White girls always knew, but do you think +they would tell? Not they. There was secrecy written all over their +blond faces, and in every strand of their straw-coloured hair. Once +they deliberately stood by and heard Minnie McSorley and Mary Watson +plan to go down to the creamery for pussy-willows on Monday +afternoon—there were four plates of taffy on their mother's pantry +shelf at the time and yet they gave no sign—Minnie McSorley and Mary +Watson went blindly on and reaped a harvest of regrets. +</P> + +<P> +There was no use offering the White girls anything for the information. +Glass alleys, paint cards or even popcorn rings were powerless to +corrupt them. Once Jimmy Watson became the hero of an hour by +circulating the report that he had smelled it cooking when he took the +milk to Miss Barner's; but alas, for circumstantial evidence. +</P> + +<P> +Every child went to Band of Hope that Monday afternoon eager and +expectant; but it was only a hard lesson on the effect of alcohol on +the lining of the stomach that they got, and when Mrs. White +complimented them on their increased attendance and gave out the +closing hymn, +</P> + +<P> + Oh, what a happy band are we!<BR> +</P> + +<P> +the Hogan twins sobbed. +</P> + +<P> +When the meeting was over, Miss Barner exonerated Jimmy by saying it +was icing for a cake he had smelled, and the drooping spirits of the +Band were somewhat revived by her promise that next Monday would surely +be Taffy Day. +</P> + +<P> +On the last Monday of each month the Band of Hope had a programme +instead of the regular lesson. Before the programme was given the +children were allowed to tell stories or ask questions relating to +temperance. The Hogan twins were always full of communications, and on +this particular Monday it looked as if they would swamp the meeting. +</P> + +<P> +William Henry Hogan (commonly known as Squirt) told to a dot how many +pairs of shoes and bags of flour a man could buy by denying himself +cigars for ten years. During William Henry's recital, John James Hogan, +the other twin, showed unmistakable signs of impatience. He stood up +and waved his hand so violently that he seemed to be in danger of +throwing that useful member away forever. Mrs. White gave him +permission to speak as soon as his brother had finished, and John James +announced with a burst of importance: +</P> + +<P> +"Please, teacher, my pa came home last night full as a billy-goat." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Barner put her hand hastily over her eyes. Mrs. White gasped, and +the Band of Hope held its breath. +</P> + +<P> +Then Mrs. White hurriedly announced that Master James Watson would +recite, and Jimmy went forward with great outward composure and recited: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + As I was going to the lake<BR> + I met a little rattlesnake;<BR> + I fed him with some jelly-cake,<BR> + Which made his little—<BR> +</P> + +<P> +But Mrs. White interrupted Jimmy just then by saying that she must +insist on temperance selections at these programmes, whereat Pearlie +Watson's hand waved appealingly, and Miss Barner gave her permission to +speak. +</P> + +<P> +"Please ma'am," Pearl said, addressing Mrs. White, "Jimmy and me +thought anything about a rattlesnake would do for a temperance piece, +and if you had only let Jimmy go on you would have seen what happened +even a snake that et what he hadn't ought to, and please ma'am, Jimmy +and me thought it might be a good lesson for all of us." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Barner thought that Pearlie's point was well taken, and took Jimmy +with her into the vestry from which he emerged a few minutes later, +flushed and triumphant, and recited the same selection, with a possible +change of text in one place: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + As I was going to the lake<BR> + I met a little rattlesnake;<BR> + I fed him on some jelly-cake,<BR> + Which made his little stomach ache.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +The musical committee then sang: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + We're for home and mother,<BR> + God and native land,<BR> + Grown up friend and brother,<BR> + Give us now your hand.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +and won loud applause. Little Sissy Moore knew only the first verse, +but it would never have been known that she was saying +dum—dum—dum—dum—dum—dum—dum—dum dum-dum-dum, if Mary Simpson +hadn't told. +</P> + +<P> +Wilford Ducker, starched as stiff as boiled and raw starch could make +him, recited "Perish, King Alcohol, we will grow up," but was accorded +a very indifferent reception by the Band of Hopers. Wilford was allowed +to go to Band of Hope only when Miss Barner went for him and escorted +him home again. Mrs. Ducker had been very particular about Wilford from +the first. +</P> + +<P> +Then the White girls recited a strictly suitable piece. It was entitled +"The World and the Conscience." +</P> + +<P> +Lily represented a vain woman of the world bent upon pleasure with a +tendency toward liquid refreshment. Her innocent china-blue eyes and +flaxen braids were in strange contrast to the mad love of glittering +wealth which was supposed to fill her heart: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Give to me the flowing bowl,<BR> + And Pleasure's glittering crown;<BR> + The path of Pride shall be my goal,<BR> + And conscience's voice I'll drown!<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Then Blanche sweetly admonished her: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Oh! lay aside your idle boasts,<BR> + No Pleasure thus you'll find;<BR> + The flowing bowl a serpent is<BR> + To poison Soul and Mind.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Oh, sign our pledge, while yet you can,<BR> + Nor look upon the Wine<BR> + When it is red within the Cup,<BR> + Let not its curse be thine!<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Thereupon the frivolous creature repents of her waywardness, and the +two little girls join hands and recite in unison: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + We will destroy this giant King,<BR> + And drive him from our land;<BR> + And on the side of Temp-er-ance<BR> + We'll surely take our stand!<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +and the piece was over. +</P> + +<P> +Robert Roblin Watson (otherwise known as Bugsey), who had that very day +been installed as a member of the Band of Hope, after he had avowed his +determination "never to touch, taste nor handle alcoholic stimulants in +any form as a beverage and to discourage all traffic in the same," was +the next gentleman on the programme. Pearlie was sure Bugsey's +selection was suitable. She whispered to him the very last minute not +to forget his bow, but he did forget it, and was off like a shot into +his piece. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + I belong to the Band of Hope,<BR> + Never to drink and never to smoke;<BR> + To love my parents and Uncle Sam,<BR> + Keep Alcohol out of my diaphragm;<BR> + To say my prayers when I go to bed,<BR> + And not put the bedclothes over my head;<BR> + Fill up my lungs with oxygen,<BR> + And be kind to every living thing.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +There! I guess there can't be no kick about that, Pearl thought to +herself as Bugsey finished, and the applause rang out loud and louder. +</P> + +<P> +Pearlie had forgotten to tell Bugsey to come down when he was done, and +so he stood irresolute, as the applause grew more and more deafening. +Pearl beckoned and waved and at last got him safely landed, and when +Mrs. White announced that to-day was Taffy Day, owing to Miss Barner's +kindness, Bugsey's cup of happiness was full. Miss Barner said she had +an extra big piece for the youngest member, Master Danny Watson. +Pearlie had not allowed any person to mention taffy to him because +Danny could not bear to be disappointed. +</P> + +<P> +But there were no disappointments that day. Taffy enough for every one, +amber-coloured taffy slabs with nuts in it, cream taffy in luscious +nuggets, curly twists of brown and yellow taffy. Oh look, there's +another plateful! and it's coming this way. "Have some more, Danny. Oh, +take a bigger piece, there's lots of it." Was it a dream? +</P> + +<P> +When the last little Band of Hoper had left the vestry, Mary Barner sat +alone with her thoughts, looking with unseeing eyes at the red and +silver mottoes on the wall. Pledge cards which the children had signed +were gaily strung together with ribbons across the wall behind her. She +was thinking of the little people who had just gone—how would it be +with them in the years to come?—they were so sweet and pure and lovely +now. Unconsciously she bowed her head on her hands, and a cry quivered +from her heart. The yellow sunlight made a ripple of golden water on +the wall behind her and threw a wavering radiance on her soft brown +hair. +</P> + +<P> +It was at that moment that the Rev. Hugh Grantley, the new Presbyterian +minister, opened the vestry door. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE RELICT OF THE LATE MCGUIRE +</H3> + +<P> +Close beside the Watson estate with its strangely shaped dwelling stood +another small house, which was the earthly abode of one Mrs. McGuire, +also of Irish extraction, who had been a widow for forty years. Mrs. +McGuire was a tall, raw-boned, angular woman with piercing black eyes, +and a firm forbidding jaw. One look at Mrs. McGuire usually made a book +agent forget the name of his book. When she shut her mouth, no lips +were visible; her upturned nose seemed seriously to contemplate running +up under her sun bonnet to escape from this wicked world with all its +troubling, and especially from John Watson, his wife and his family of +nine. +</P> + +<P> +One fruitful cause of dispute between Mrs. McGuire and the Watsons was +the boundary line between the two estates. In the spring Mrs. Watson +and the boys put up a fence of green poplar poles where they thought +the fence should be, hoping that it might serve the double purpose of +dividing the lots and be a social barrier between them and the relict +of the late McGuire. The relict watched and waited and said not a word, +but it was the ominous silence that comes before the hail. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. McGuire hated the Watson family collectively, but it was upon John +Watson, the man of few words, that she lavished the whole wealth of her +South of Ireland hatred, for John Watson had on more than one occasion +got the better of her in a wordy encounter. +</P> + +<P> +One time when the boundary dispute was at its height, she had burst +upon John as he went to his work in the morning, with a storm of +far-reaching and comprehensive epithets. She gave him the history of +the Watson family, past, present, and future—especially the future; +every Watson that ever left Ireland came in for a brief but pungent +notice. +</P> + +<P> +John stood thoughtfully rubbing his chin, and when she stopped, not +from lack of words, but from lack of breath, he slowly remarked: +</P> + +<P> +"Mistress McGuire, yer a lady." +</P> + +<P> +"Yer a liar!" she snapped back, with a still more eloquent burst of +invectives. +</P> + +<P> +John lighted his pipe with great deliberation, and when it was drawing +nicely he took it from his mouth and said, more to himself than to her: +</P> + +<P> +"Stay where ye are, Pat McGuire. It may be hot where ye are, but it +would be hotter for ye if ye were here, and ye'd jist have the throuble +o' movin'. Stay where ye are, Pat, wherever ye are." He walked away +leaving Mrs. McGuire with the uncomfortable feeling that he had some +way got the best of her. +</P> + +<P> +The Watsons had planted their potatoes beside the fence, and did not +dream of evil. But one morning in the early autumn, the earliest little +Watson who went out to get a basin of water out of the rain barrel, to +wash the "sleeps" out of his eyes, dropped the basin in his +astonishment, for the fence was gone—it was removed to Mrs. McGuire's +woodpile, and the lady herself was industriously digging the potatoes. +</P> + +<P> +Bugsey, for he was the early little bird, ran back into the house +screaming: +</P> + +<P> +"She's robbed us! She's robbed us! and tuk our fence." +</P> + +<P> +The Watson family gathered as quickly as a fire brigade at the sound of +the gong, but in the scramble for garments some were less fortunate +than others. Wee Tommy, who was a little heavier sleeper than the +others, could find nothing to put on but one overshoe and an old chest +protector of his mother's, but he arrived at the front, nevertheless. +Tommy was not the boy to desert his family for any minor consideration +such as clothes. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. McGuire leaned on her hoe and nonchalantly regarded the gathering +forces. She had often thought out the scene, and her air of +indifference was somewhat overdone. +</P> + +<P> +The fence was on her ground, so it was, and so were two rows of the +potatoes. She could do what she liked with her own, so she could. She +didn't ask them to plant potatoes on her ground. If they wanted to +stand there gawkin' at her, they wur welcome. She always did like +comp'ny; but she was afraid the childer would catch cowld, they were +dressed so loight for so late in the season. She picked up the last +pailful as she spoke, and retired into her own house, leaving the +Watson family to do the same. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Watson counselled peace. John ate his breakfast in silence; but +the young Watsons, and even Pearlie, thirsted for revenge. Bugsey +Watson forgot his Band of Hope teaching of returning good for evil, and +standing on the disputed territory, he planted his little bare legs far +apart and shouted, dancing up and down to the rhythm: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Chew tobacco, chew tobacco,<BR> + Spit, spit, spit!<BR> + Old McGuire, old McGuire,<BR> + Nit, nit, nit!<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. McGuire did occasionally draw comfort from an old clay pipe—but +Bugsey's punishment was near. +</P> + +<P> +A long shadow fell upon him, and turning around he found himself face +to face with Mary Barner who stood spellbound, listening to her lately +installed Band of Hoper! +</P> + +<P> +Bugsey's downfall was complete! He turned and ran down the road and +round behind an elevator, where half an hour later Pearl found him +shedding penitential tears, not alas! because he had sinned, but +because he had been found out. +</P> + +<P> +The maternal instinct was strong in Pearlie. Bugsey in tears was in +need of consolation; Bugsey was always in need of admonition. So she +combined them: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't cry, alannah. Maybe Miss Barner didn't hear yez at all at all. +Ladies like her do be thinkin' great thoughts and never knowin' what's +forninst them. Mrs. Francis never knows what ye'r sayin' to her at the +toime; ye could say 'chew tobacco, chew tobacco' all ye liked before +her; but what for did ye sass owld lady McGuire? Haven't I towld ye +time out of mind that a soft answer turns away wrath, and forbye makes +them madder than anything ye could say to them?" +</P> + +<P> +Bugsey tearfully declared he would never go to Band of Hope again. +Taffy or no taffy, he could not bear to face her. +</P> + +<P> +"Go tell her, Bugsey man," Pearlie urged. "Tell her ye'r sorry. I +w'uldn't mind tellin' Miss Barner anything. Even if I'd kilt a man and +hid his corp, she's the very one I'd git to help me to give me a h'ist +with him into the river, she's that good and swate." +</P> + +<P> +The subject of this doubtful compliment had come down so early that +morning believing that Mrs. McGuire was confined to her bed with +rheumatism. Seeing the object of her solicitude up and about, she would +have returned without knowing what had happened; but Bugsey's +remarkable musical turn decided her that Mrs. McGuire was suffering +from worse than a rheumatic knee. She went into the little house, and +heard all about it. +</P> + +<P> +When she went home a little later she found Robert Roblin Watson, with +resolute heart but hanging head, waiting for her on the back step. What +passed between them neither of them ever told, but in a very few +minutes Robert Roblin ran gaily homeward, happy in heart, shriven of +his sin, and with one little spot on his cheek which tingled with +rapture. Better still, he went, like a man, and made his peace with +Mrs. McGuire! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE MUSICAL SENSE +</H3> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis, in the sweetest of tea gowns, was intent upon Dr. +Ernestus Parker's book on "Purposeful Motherhood." It was the chapter +dealing with the "Musical Sense in Children" which engrossed Mrs. +Francis's attention. She had just begun subdivision C in the chapter, +"When and How the Musical Sense Is Developed," when she thought of +Danny. She fished into the waste-paper basket for her little red +note-book, and with her silver mounted pencil she made the following +entry: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + DANIEL WATSON,<BR> + AGED 4.<BR> + MUS. SENSE. DEVELOPED. IF SO, WHEN. IF NOT,<BR> + HOW, AND AT ONCE.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +She read on feverishly. She felt herself to be in the throes of a great +idea. +</P> + +<P> +Then she called Camilla. Camilla is always so practical, she thought. +</P> + +<P> +To Camilla she elaborated the vital points of Dr. Parker's theory of +the awakening of the musical sense, reading here and there from the +book, rapidly and unintelligibly. She was so excited she was +incoherent. Camilla listened patiently, although her thoughts were with +her biscuits in the oven below. +</P> + +<P> +"And now, Camilla," she said when she had gone all over the subject, +"how can we awaken the musical sense in Daniel? You know I value your +opinion so much." +</P> + +<P> +Camilla was ready. +</P> + +<P> +"Take him to hear Professor Welsman play," she said. "The professor +will give his recital here on the 15th." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis wrote rapidly. "I believe," she said looking up, "your +suggestion is a good one. You shall have the credit of it in my notes." +</P> + +<P> + Plan of awakening mus. sense suggested by C—.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Camilla smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Francis. You are very kind." +</P> + +<P> +When Camilla went back to the kitchen and took the biscuits from the +oven, she laughed softly to herself. +</P> + +<P> +"This is going to be a good time for some further suggestions. Pearl +must go with Danny. What a treat it will be for poor little Pearl! Then +we must have a new suit for Danny, new dress for Pearl, new cap for D., +new hat for P., all suggested by C. There are a few suggestions which +C. will certainly make." +</P> + +<P> +On the evening of the professor's recital there were no two happier +people in the audience than Pearlie Watson and her brother Daniel +Mulcahey Watson; not because the great professor was about to interpret +for them the music of the masters—that was not the cause of their +happiness—but because of the good supper they had had and the good +clothes they wore, their hearts were glad. They had spent the afternoon +at Mrs. Francis's (suggested by C.). Danny's new coat had a velvet +collar lovely to feel (suggested by C.). Pearl had a wonderful new +dress—the kind she had often dreamed of—made out of one of Mrs. +Francis's tea gowns. (Not only suggested but made by C.). It had real +buttons on it, and there was not one pin needed. Pearl felt she was +just as well dressed as the little girl on the starch box. Her only +grief was that when she had on her coat—which was also new, and +represented one-half month of Camilla's wages—the velvet on her dress +did not show. But Camilla, anticipating this difficulty, laid back the +fronts in stunning lapels, and to complete the arrangement, put one of +her own lace collars around the neck of the coat, the ends coming down +over the turned-back fronts. When Pearl looked in the glass she could +not believe her eyes! +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Francis did not attend piano recitals, nor the meetings of the +Browning Club. Mrs. Francis was often deeply grieved with James for his +indifference in regard to these matters. But the musical sense in James +continued to slumber and sleep. +</P> + +<P> +The piano recital by Professor Welsman was given under the auspices of +the Ladies' Aid of the Methodist Church, the proceeds to be given +toward defraying the cost of the repairs on the parsonage. +</P> + +<P> +The professor was to be assisted by local talent, it said on the +programmes. Pearl was a little bit disappointed about the programmes. +She had told Danny that there would be a chairman who would say: "I see +the first item on this here programme is remarks by the chair, but as +yez all know I ain't no hand at makin' a speech we'll pass on to the +next item." But there was not a sign of a chairman, not even a chair. +The people just came up themselves, without anybody telling them, and +did their piece and went back. It looked sort of bold to Pearl. +</P> + +<P> +First the choir came in and sang: "Praise Waiteth for Thee, O Lord, in +Zion." Pearl did not like the way they treated her friend Dr. Clay. +Twice when he began to sing a little piece by himself, doing all right, +too, two or three of them broke in on him and took the words right out +of his mouth. Pearl had seen people get slapped faces for things like +that. Pearl thought it just served them right when the doctor stopped +singing and let them have it their own way. +</P> + +<P> +When the professor came up the aisle everybody leaned forward to have a +good look at him. "He is just like folks only for his hair," Pearl +thought. Pearl lifted Danny on her knee and told him to look alive now. +She knew what they were there for. +</P> + +<P> +Then the professor began to play. Indifferently at first after the +manner of his kind, clever gymnastics to limber up his fingers perhaps, +and perhaps to show how limber they are; runs and trills, brilliant +execution, one hand after the other in mad pursuit, crossing over, back +again, up and down in the vain endeavour to come up with the other +hand; crescendo, diminuendo, trills again! +</P> + +<P> +Danny yawned widely. +</P> + +<P> +"When's he goin' to begin?" he asked, sleepily. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis watched Danny eagerly. The musical sense was liable to +wake up any minute. But it would have to hurry, for Daniel Mulcahey was +liable to go to sleep any minute. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl was disgusted with the professor and her thoughts fell into +vulgar baseball slang: +</P> + +<P> +"Playin' to the grand stand, ain't ye? instead o' gettin' down to work. +That'll do for ketch and toss. Play the game! Deliver the goods!" +</P> + +<P> +Then the professor began the full arm chords with sudden fury, writhing +upon the stool as he struck the angry notes from the piano. Pearl's +indignation ran high. +</P> + +<P> +"He's lost his head—he's up in the air!" she shouted, but the words +were lost in the clang of musical discords. +</P> + +<P> +But wait! Pearl sat still and listened. There was something doing. It +was a Welsh rhapsodie that he was playing. It was all there—the +mountains and the rivers, and the towering cliffs with glimpses of the +sea where waves foam on the rocks, and sea-fowl wheel and scream in the +wind, and then a bit of homely melody as the country folk drive home in +the moonlight, singing as only the Welsh can sing, the songs of the +heart; songs of love and home, songs of death and sorrowing, that stab +with sudden sweetness. A child cries somewhere in the dark, cries for +his mother who will come no more. Then a burst of patriotic fire, as +the people fling defiance at the conquering foe, and hold the mountain +passes till the last man falls. But the glory of the fight and the +march of many feet trail off into a wailing chant—the death song of +the brave men who have died. The widow mourns, and the little children +weep comfortless in their mountain home, and the wind rushes through +the forest, and the river foams furiously down the mountain, falling in +billows of lace over the rocks, and the sun shines over all, cold and +pitiless. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Pearlie Watson, what are you crying for?" Mrs. Francis whispered +severely. Pearl's sobs had disturbed her. Danny lay asleep on Pearl's +knees, and her tears fell fast on his tangled curls. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't cryin', I ain't cryin' a bit. You leave me alone," Pearl +blubbered rudely, shaking off Mrs Francis's shapely hand. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis was shocked. What in the world was making Pearl cry? +</P> + +<P> +The next morning Mrs. Francis took out her little red book to enter the +result of her experiment, and sat looking long and earnestly at its +pages. Then she drew a writing pad toward her and wrote an illuminative +article on "Late Hours a Frequent and Fruitful Cause of Irritability in +Children." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"ONE OF MANITOBA'S PROSPEROUS FARMERS" +</H3> + +<P> +Mr. Samuel Motherwell was a wealthy farmer who lived a few miles from +Millford. Photographs of Mr. Motherwell's premises may be seen in the +agricultural journals, machinery catalogues, advertisements for woven +wire, etc.—"the home of one of Manitoba's prosperous farmers." +</P> + +<P> +The farm buildings were in good repair; a large red barn with white +trimmings surmounted by a creaking windmill; a long, low machine shed +filled with binders, seeders, disc-harrows—everything that is needed +for the seed-time and harvest and all that lies between; a large stone +house, square and gray, lonely and bare, without a tree or a shrub +around it. Mr. Motherwell did not like vines or trees around a house. +They were apt to attract lightning and bring vermin. +</P> + +<P> +Potatoes grew from the road to the house; and around the front door, as +high as the veranda, weeds flourished in abundance, undisturbed and +unnoticed. +</P> + +<P> +Behind the cookhouse a bed of poppies flamed scarlet against the +general sombreness, and gave a strange touch of colour to the common +grayness. They seemed out of place in the busy farmyard. Everything +else was there for use. Everybody hurried but the poppies; idlers of +precious time, suggestive of slothful sleep, they held up their brazen +faces in careless indifference. +</P> + +<P> +Sam had not planted them—you may be sure of that. Mrs. Motherwell +would tell you of an English girl she had had to work for her that +summer who had brought the seed with her from England, and of how one +day when she sent the girl to weed the onions, she had found her +blubbering and crying over what looked to Mrs. Motherwell nothing more +than weeds. The girl then told her she had brought the seed with her +and planted it there. She was the craziest thing, this Polly Bragg. She +went every night to see them because they were like a "bit of home," +she said. Mrs. Motherwell would tell you just what a ridiculous +creature she was! +</P> + +<P> +"I never see the beat o' that girl," Mrs. Motherwell would say. "Them +eyes of hers were always red with homesickness, and there was no reason +for it in the world, her gettin' more wages than she ever got before, +and more'n she was earnin', as I often told her. Land! the way that +girl would sing when she had got a letter from home, the queerest songs +ye ever heard: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Down by the biller there grew a green willer,<BR> + Weeping all night with the bank for a piller.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Well, I had to stop her at last," Mrs. Motherwell would tell you with +an apologetic swallow, which showed that even generous people have to +be firm sometimes in the discharge of unpleasant duties. +</P> + +<P> +"And, mind you," Mrs. Motherwell would go on, with a grieved air, "just +as the busy time came on didn't she up and take the fever—you never +can depend on them English girls—and when the doctor was outside there +in the buggy waitin' for her—he took her to the hospital—I declare if +we didn't find her blubberin' over them poppies, and not a flower on +them no mor'n nothing." +</P> + +<P> +Sam Motherwell and his wife were nominally Presbyterians. At the time +that the Millford Presbyterian Church was built Sam had given +twenty-five dollars toward it, the money having been secured in some +strange way by the wiles of Purvis Thomas, the collector. Everybody was +surprised at Sam's prodigality. The next year, a new collector—for +Purvis Thomas had gone away—called on Mr. Motherwell. +</P> + +<P> +The grain was just beginning to show a slight tinge of gold. It was one +of those cloudless sunshiny days in the beginning of August, when a +faint blue haze lies on the Tiger Hills, and the joy of being alive +swells in the breast of every living thing. The creek, swollen with the +July rain, ran full in its narrow channel, sparkling and swirling over +its gravelly bed, and on the green meadow below the house a herd of +shorthorns contentedly cropped the tender after-grass. +</P> + +<P> +In the farmyard a gigantic turkey-gobbler marched majestically with +arched neck and spreading wings, feeling himself very much the king of +the castle; good-natured ducks puddled contentedly in a trough of dirty +water; pigeons, white winged and graceful, circled and wheeled in the +sunshine; querulous-voiced hens strutted and scratched, and gossiped +openly of mysterious nests hidden away. +</P> + +<P> +Sam stood leaning on a pitchfork in front of the barn door. He was a +stout man of about fifty years of age, with an ox-like face. His +countenance showed the sullen stolidity of a man who spoke little but +listened always, of a man who indulged in suspicious thoughts. He knew +everything about his neighbours, good and bad. He might forget the +good, but never the evil. The tragedies, the sins, the misdeeds of +thirty years ago were as fresh in his memory as the scandal of +yesterday. No man had ever been tempted beyond his strength but Sam +Motherwell knew the manner of his undoing. He extended no mercy to the +fallen; he suggested no excuse for the erring. +</P> + +<P> +The collector made known his errand. Sam became animated at once. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" he cried angrily, "ain't that blamed thing paying yet? I've a +good notion to pull my money out of it and be done with it. What do you +take me for anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +The collector ventured to call his attention to his prosperous +surroundings, and evident wealth. +</P> + +<P> +"That's like you town fellows," he said indignantly. "You never think +of the hired help and twine bills, and what it costs to run a place +like this. I pay every time I go, anyway. There ain't a time that I let +the plate go by me, when I'm there. By gosh! you seem to think I've +money to burn." +</P> + +<P> +The collector departed empty-handed. +</P> + +<P> +The next time Sam went to Millford he was considerably surprised to +have the young minister, the Reverend Hugh Grantley, stop him on the +street and hand him twenty-five dollars. +</P> + +<P> +"I understand, sir, that you wish to withdraw the money that you +invested in the Lord's work," he said as he handed the money to Sam, +whose fingers mechanically closed over the bills as he stared at the +young man. +</P> + +<P> +The Rev. Hugh Grantley was a typical Scotchman, tall and broad +shouldered, with an eye like cold steel. Not many people had +contradicted the Rev. Hugh Grantley, at least to his face. His voice +could be as sweet as the ripple of a mountain stream, or vibrate with +the thunder of the surf that beats upon his own granite cliffs. +</P> + +<P> +"The Lord sends you seed-time and harvest," he said, fixing his level +gray eye on the other man, who somehow avoided his gaze, "has given you +health of body and mind, sends you rain from heaven, makes his sun to +shine upon you, increases your riches from year to year. You have given +Him twenty-five dollars in return and you regret it. Is that so?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know that I just said that," the other man stammered. "I don't +see no need of these fine churches and paid preachers. It isn't them as +goes to church most that is the best." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I see," the young man said, "you would prefer to give your money +for the relief of the poor, for hospitals or children's homes, or +something like that. Is that so?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know as there's any reason for me givin' up the money I work +hard for." Sam was touched on a vital spot. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'll tell you the reason," the minister said; his voice was no +louder, but it fell with a sledge-hammer emphasis. He moved a step +nearer his companion, and some way caught and held his wavering vision. +"God owns one-tenth of all that stuff you call your own. You have +cheated Him out of His part all these years, and He has carried you +over from year to year, hoping that you will pay up without harsh +proceedings. You are a rich man in this world's goods, but your soul is +lean and hungry and naked. Selfishness and greed have blinded your +eyes. If you could see what a contemptible, good-for-nothing creature +you are in God's sight, you would call on the hills to fall on you. +Why, man, I'd rather take my chances with the gambler, the felon, the +drunkard, than with you. They may have fallen in a moment of strong +temptation; but you are a respectable man merely because it costs money +to be otherwise. The Lord can do without your money. Do not think for a +minute that God's work will not go on. 'He shall have dominion from sea +to sea,' but what of you? You shall lie down and die like the dog. You +shall go out into outer darkness. The world will not be one bit better +because you have passed through it." +</P> + +<P> +Sam was incoherent with rage. "See here," he sputtered, "what do you +know about it? I pay my debts. Everybody knows that." +</P> + +<P> +"Hold on, hold on," the young man said gently, "you pay the debts that +the law compels you to pay. You have to pay your hired help and your +threshing bills, and all that, because you would be 'sued' if you +didn't. There is one debt that is left to a man's honour, the debt he +owes to God, and to the poor and the needy. Do you pay that debt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you'll never get a cent out of me anyway. You have a mighty poor +way of asking for money—maybe if you had taken me the right way you +might have got some." +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me, Mr. Motherwell," the young man replied with unaffected good +humour, "I did not ask you for money at all. I gave you back what you +did give. No member of our congregation will ask you for any, though +there may come a time when you will ask us to take it." +</P> + +<P> +Sam Motherwell broke into a scornful laugh, and, turning away, went +angrily down the street. The fact that the minister had given him back +his money was a severe shock to some of his deep-rooted opinions. He +had always regarded churches as greedy institutions, looking and +begging for money from everyone; ministers as parasites on society, +living without honest labour, preying on the working man. Sam's +favourite story was the old one about the woman whose child got a coin +stuck in its throat. She did not send for the doctor, but for the +minister! Sam had always seen considerable truth in this story and had +told it to every minister he had met. +</P> + +<P> +He told himself now that he was glad to get back the money, twenty-five +dollars was not picked up every day. But he was not glad. The very +touch of the bills was distasteful to him! +</P> + +<P> +He did not tell his wife of the occurrence. Nor did he put the money in +the black bag, where their money was always kept in the bureau drawer, +safe under lock and key. He could not do that without telling his wife +where it came from. So he shoved it carelessly into the pocket of the +light overcoat that he was wearing. Sam Motherwell was not a careless +man about money, but the possession of this particular twenty-five +dollars gave him no pleasure. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE OTHER DOCTOR +</H3> + +<P> +The young minister went down the street with a thoughtful face. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder if I did right," he was thinking. "It is a hard thing to talk +that way to a human being, and yet it seems to be the only thing to do. +Oh, what it would mean for God's work if all these rich farmers were +saved from their insatiable greed." +</P> + +<P> +He turned into Dr. Clay's office. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Clay!" he burst out when he had answered the young man's friendly +greeting, "it is an awful thing to lay open a mean man's meanness, and +tell him the plain truth about himself." +</P> + +<P> +"It is, indeed," the young doctor answered, "but perhaps it is heroic +treatment your man needed, for I would infer that you have been reading +the law to someone. Who was it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sam Motherwell," the minister answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you had a good subject," the doctor said gravely. "For +aggravated greed, and fatty degeneration of the conscience, Mr. +Motherwell is certainly a wonder. When that poor English girl took the +fever out here, it was hard to convince Sam that she was really sick. +'Look at them red cheeks of hers,' he said to me, 'and her ears ain't +cold, and her eyes is bright as ever. She's just lookin' for a rest, I +think, if you wuz to ask me.'" +</P> + +<P> +"How did you convince him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I told him the girl would have to have a trained nurse, and would be +sick probably six weeks, and then they couldn't get the poor girl off +their hands quick enough. 'I don't want that girl dyin' round here,' +Sam said." +</P> + +<P> +"Is Mrs. Motherwell as close as he is?" the minister asked after a +pause. +</P> + +<P> +"Some say worse," the doctor replied, "but I don't believe it. She +can't be." +</P> + +<P> +The minister's face was troubled. "I wish I knew what to do for them," +he said sadly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you something you can do for me," the doctor said sitting up +straight, "or at least something you may try to do." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" the minister asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Devise some method, suggest some course of treatment, whereby my tried +and trusty horse Pleurisy will cease to look so much like a saw-horse. +I'm afraid the Humane Society will get after me." +</P> + +<P> +The minister laughed. +</P> + +<P> +Everybody knew Dr. Clay's horse; there was no danger of mistaking him +for any other. He was tall and lean and gaunt. The doctor had bought +him believing him to be in poor condition, which good food and good +care would remedy. But as the months went by, in spite of all the +doctor could do, Pleurisy remained the same, eating everything the +doctor brought him, and looking for more, but showing no improvement. +</P> + +<P> +"I've tried everything except egg-nog," the doctor went on, "and pink +pills, and I would like to turn over the responsibility to someone +else. I think perhaps his trouble must be mental—some gnawing sorrow +that keeps him awake at night. I don't mind driving Pleurisy where +people know me and know that I do feed him occasionally, but it is +disconcerting when I meet strangers to have kind-looking old ladies +shake their heads at me. I know what they're thinking, and I believe +Pleurisy really enjoys it, and then when I drive past a farmhouse to +see the whole family run out and hold their sides is not a pleasure. +Talk about scattering sunshine! Pleurisy leaves a trail of merriment +wherever he goes." +</P> + +<P> +"What difference does it make what people think when your conscience is +clear. You do feed your horse, you feed him well, so what's the odds," +inquired the Rev. Hugh Grantley, son of granite, child of the heather, +looking with lifted brows at his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, there you go!" the doctor said smiling. "That's the shorter +catechism coming out in you—that Scotch complacency is the thing I +wish I had, but I can't help feeling like a rogue, a cheat, an +oppressor of the helpless, when I look at Pleurisy." +</P> + +<P> +"Horace," the minister said kindly, with his level gray eyes fixed +thoughtfully on his friend's handsome face, "a man in either your +calling or mine has no right to ask himself how he feels. Don't feel +your own pulse too much. It is disquieting. It is for us to go on, +never faltering and never looking behind." +</P> + +<P> +"In other words, to make good, and never mind the fans," the doctor +smiled. Then he became serious. "But Grantley, I am not always so sure +I am right as you are. You see a sinner is always a sinner and in +danger of damnation, for which there is but one cure, but a sick man +may have quinsy or he may have diphtheria, and the treatment is +different. But oh! Grantley, I wish I had that Scotch-gray confidence +in myself that you have. If you were a doctor you would tell a man he +had typhoid, and he'd proceed to have it, even if he had only set out +to have an ingrowing toe-nail. But my patients have a decided will of +their own. There's young Ab Cowan—they sent for me last night to go +out to see him. He has a bad attack of quinsy, but it is the strangest +case I ever saw." +</P> + +<P> +The gaiety had died out of the young man's face, and he looked +perplexed and anxious. +</P> + +<P> +"I do wish the old doctor and I were on speaking terms," he concluded. +</P> + +<P> +"And are you not?" the minister asked in surprise. "Miss Barner told me +that you had been very kind—and I thought—" There was a flush on the +minister's face, and he hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Miss Barner and I are the best of friends," the doctor said. "I +say, Grantley, hasn't that little girl had one lonely life, and isn't +she the brave little soul!" +</P> + +<P> +The minister was silent, all but his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor went on: +</P> + +<P> +"'Who hath sorrow, who hath woe, who hath redness of eyes?' Solomon, +wasn't it, who said it was 'they who tarry long at the wine'? I think +he should have added 'those who wait at home.' Don't you think she is a +remarkably beautiful girl, Grantley?" he asked abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +"I do, indeed," the minister answered, giving his friend a searching +glance. "But how about the doctor, why will he not speak to you?" He +was glad of a chance to change the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose the old man's pride is hurt every time he sees me. He +evidently thinks he is all the medical aid they need around here. But I +do wish he would come with me to see this young Cowan; it's the most +puzzling case I've ever met. There are times, Grantley, when I think I +should be following the plough." +</P> + +<P> +The minister looked at him thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"A man can only do his best, Horace," he said kindly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LIVE WIRE +</H3> + +<P> +"Who is this young gentleman or lady?" Dr. Clay asked of Pearlie Watson +one day when he met her wheeling a baby carriage with an abnormally fat +baby in it. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the Czar of all the Rooshia," Pearl answered gravely, "and I'm +his body-guard." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor's face showed no surprise as he stepped back to get a better +look at the czar, who began to squirm at the delay. +</P> + +<P> +"See the green plush on his kerridge," Pearl said proudly, "and every +stitch he has on is hand-made, and was did for him, too, and he's fed +every three hours, rain or shine, hit or miss." +</P> + +<P> +"Think of that!" the doctor exclaimed with emphasis, "and yet some +people tell us that the Czar has a hard time of it." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl drew a step nearer, moving the carriage up and down rapidly to +appease the wrath of the czar, who was expressing his disapproval in a +very lumpy cry. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm just 'tendin', you know, about him bein' the czar," she said +confidentially. "You see, I mind him every day, and that's the way I +play. Maudie Ducker said one day I never had no time to play cos we wuz +so pore, and that started me. It's a lovely game." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor nodded. He knew something of "'tendin' games" too. +</P> + +<P> +"I have to taste everything he eats, for fear of Paris green," Pearl +went on, speaking now in the loud official tone of the body-guard. "I +have to stand between him and the howlin' mob thirstin' for his gore." +</P> + +<P> +"He seems to howl more than the mob," the doctor said smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"He's afraid we're plottin'," Pearl whispered. "Can't trust no one. He +ain't howlin'. That's his natcheral voice when he's talkin' Rooshan. He +don't know one English word, only 'Goo!' But he'll say that every time. +See now. How is a precious luvvy-duvvy? See the pitty man, pull um baby +toofin!" +</P> + +<P> +At which the czar, secure in his toothlessness, rippled his fat face +into dimples, and triumphantly brought forth a whole succession of +"goos." +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't he a peach?" Pearlie said with pride. "Some kids won't show off +worth a cent when ye want them to, but he'll say 'goo' if you even +nudge him. His mother thinks 'goo' is awful childish, and she is at him +all the time to say 'Daddy-dinger,' but he never lets on he hears her. +Say, doctor"—Pearlie's face was troubled—"what do you think of his +looks? Just between ourselves. Hasn't he a fine little nub of a nose? +Do you see anything about him to make his mother cry?" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor looked critically at the czar, who returned his gaze with +stolid indifference. +</P> + +<P> +"I never saw a more perfect nub on any nose," he answered honestly. +"He's a fine big boy, and his mother should be proud of him." +</P> + +<P> +"There now, what did I tell you!" Pearlie cried delightedly, nodding +her head at an imaginary audience. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I always say to his mother, but she's so tuk up with +pictures of pretty kids with big eyes and curly hair, she don't seem to +be able to get used to him. She never says his nose is a pug, but she +says it's 'different,' and his voice is not what she wanted. He cries +lumpy, I know, but his goos are all right. The kid in the book she is +readin' could say 'Daddy-dinger' before he was as old as the czar is, +and it's awful hard on her. You see, he can't pat-a-cake, or +this-little-pig-went-to-market, or wave a bye-bye or nothin'. I never +told her what Danny could do when he was this age. But I am workin' +hard to get him to say 'Daddy-dinger.' She has her heart set on that. +Well, I must go on now." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor lifted his hat, and the imperial carriage moved on. +</P> + +<P> +She had gone a short distance when she remembered something: +</P> + +<P> +"I'll let you know when he says it, doc!" she shouted. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, don't forget," he smiled back. +</P> + +<P> +When Pearlie turned the next corner she met Maudie Ducker. Maudie +Ducker had on a new plaid dress with velvet trimming, and Maudie knew +it. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that your Sunday dress," she asked Pearl, looking critically at +Pearlie's faded little brown winsey. +</P> + +<P> +"My, no!" Pearlie answered cheerfully. "This is just my morning dress. +I wear my blue satting in the afternoon, and on Sundays, my purple +velvet with the watter-plait, and basque-yoke of tartaric plaid, +garnished with lace. Yours is a nice little plain dress. That stuff +fades though; ma lined a quilt for the boys' bed with it and it faded +gray." +</P> + +<P> +Maudie Ducker was a "perfect little lady." Her mother often said so; +Maudie could not bear to sit near a child in school who had on a dirty +pinafore or ragged clothes, and the number of days that she could wear +a pinafore without its showing one trace of stain was simply wonderful! +Maudie had two dolls which she never played with. They were propped up +against the legs of the parlour table. Maudie could play the "Java +March" and "Mary's Pet Waltz" on the piano. She always spoke in a +hushed vox tremulo, and never played any rough games. She could not +bear to touch a baby, because it might put a sticky little finger on +her pinafore. All of which goes to show what a perfect little lady she +was. +</P> + +<P> +When Maudie made inquiries of Pearl Watson as to her Sabbath-day +attire, her motives were more kindly than Pearl thought. Maudie's +mother was giving her a party. Hitherto the guests upon such occasions +had been selected with great care, and with respect to social standing, +and blue china, and correct enunciation. This time they were selected +with greater care, but with respect to their fathers' politics. All +conservatives and undecided voters' children were included. The +fight-to-a-finish-for-the-grand-old-party Reformers were tabooed. +</P> + +<P> +Algernon Evans, otherwise known as the Czar of all the Rooshias, only +son of J. H. Evans, editor of the Millford Mercury, could not be +overlooked. Hence the reason for asking Pearl Watson, his body-guard. +</P> + +<P> +Millford had two weekly newspapers—one Conservative in its tendencies +and the other one Reform. Between them there existed a feud, long +standing, unquenchable, constant. It went with the printing press, the +subscription list and the good-will of the former owner, when the paper +changed hands. +</P> + +<P> +The feud was discernible in the local news as well as in the +editorials. In the Reform paper, which was edited at the time of which +we write by a Tipperary man named McSorley, you might read of a +distressing accident which befell one Simon Henry (also a Reformer), +while that great and good man was abroad upon an errand of mercy, +trying to induce a drunken man to go quietly to his home and family. +Mr. Henry was eulogised for his kind act, and regret was expressed that +Mr. Henry should have met with such rough usage while endeavouring to +hold out a helping hand to one unfortunate enough to be held in the +demon chains of intemperance. +</P> + +<P> +In the Conservative paper the following appeared: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + We regret to hear that Simon Henry, secretary of the + Young Liberal Club, got mixed up in a drunken brawl + last evening and as a result will be confined to his + house for a few days. We trust his injuries are not + serious, as his services are indispensable to his + party in the coming campaign. +</P> + +<P> +Reports of concerts, weddings, even deaths, were tinged with partyism. +When Daniel Grover, grand old Conservative war-horse, was gathered to +his fathers at the ripe age of eighty-seven years, the Reform paper +said that Mr. Grover's death was not entirely unexpected, as his health +had been failing for some time, the deceased having passed his +seventieth birthday. +</P> + +<P> +McSorley, the Liberal editor, being an Irishman, was not without +humour, but Evans, the other one, revelled in it. He was like the +little boys who stick pins in frogs, not that they bear the frogs any +ill-will, but for the fun of seeing them jump. He would sit half the +night over his political editorials, smiling grimly to himself, and +when he threw himself back in his chair and laughed like a boy the +knife was turned in someone! +</P> + +<P> +One day Mr. James Ducker, lately retired farmer, sometimes insurance +agent, read in the Winnipeg Telegram that his friend the Honourable +Thomas Snider had chaperoned an Elk party to St. Paul. Mr. Ducker had +but a hazy idea of the duties of a chaperon, but he liked the sound of +it, and it set him thinking. He remembered when Tom Snider had entered +politics with a decayed reputation, a large whiskey bill, and about +$2.20 in cash. Now he rode in a private car, and had a suite of rooms +at the Empire, and the papers often spoke of him as "mine host" Snider. +Mr. Ducker turned over the paper and read that the genial Thomas had +replied in a very happy manner to a toast at the Elks' banquet. +Whereupon Mr. Ducker became wrapped in deep thought, and during this +passive period he distinctly heard his country's call! The call came in +these words: "If Tom Snider can do it, why not me?" +</P> + +<P> +The idea took hold of him. He began to brush his hair artfully over the +bald spot. He made strange faces at his mirror, wondering which side of +his face would be the best to have photographed for his handbills. He +saw himself like Cincinnatus of old called from the plough to the +Senate, but he told himself there could not have been as good a thing +in it then as there is now, or Cincinnatus would not have come back to +the steers. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ducker's social qualities developed amazingly. He courted his +neighbours assiduously, sending presents from his garden, stopping to +have protracted conversations with men whom he had known but slightly +before. Every man whose name was on the voters' list began to have a +new significance for him. +</P> + +<P> +There was one man whom he feared—that was Evans, editor of the +Conservative paper. Sometimes when his fancy painted for him a gay and +alluring picture of carrying "the proud old Conservative banner that +has suffered defeat, but, thank God! never disgrace in the face of the +foe" (quotation from speech Mr. Ducker had prepared), sometimes he +would in the midst of the most glowing and glorious passages +inadvertently think of Evans, and it gave him goose-flesh. Mr. Ducker +had lived in and around Millford for some time. So had Evans, and Evans +had a most treacherous memory. You could not depend on him to forget +anything! +</P> + +<P> +When Evans was friendly with him, Mr. Ducker's hopes ran high, but when +he caught Evans looking at him with that boyish smile of his twinkling +in his eyes, the vision of chaperoning an Elk party to St. Paul became +very shadowy indeed. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ducker tried diplomacy. He withdrew his insurance advertisement +from McSorley's paper, and doubled his space in Evans's, paying in +advance. He watched the trains for visitors and reported them to Evans. +He wrote breezy little local briefs in his own light cow-like way for +Evans's paper. +</P> + +<P> +But Mr. Ducker's journalistic fervour received a serious set back one +day. He rushed into the Mercury office just as the paper went to press +with the news that old Mrs. Williamson had at last winged her somewhat +delayed flight. Evans thanked him with some cordiality for letting him +know in time to make a note of it, and asked him to go around to Mrs. +Williamson's home and find out a few facts for the obituary. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ducker did so with great cheerfulness, rather out of keeping with +the nature of his visit. He felt that his way was growing brighter. +When he reached the old lady's home he was received with all courtesy +by her slow-spoken son. Mr. Ducker bristled with importance as he made +known his errand, in a neat speech, in which official dignity and +sympathy were artistically blended. "The young may die, but the old +must die," he reminded Mr. Williamson as he produced his pencil and +tablet. Mr. Williamson gave a detailed account of his mother's early +life, marriages first and second, and located all her children with +painstaking accuracy. "Left to mourn her loss," Mr. Ducker wrote. +</P> + +<P> +"And the cause of her death?" Mr. Ducker inquired gently, "general +breaking down of the system, I suppose?" with his pencil poised in the +air. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Williamson knit his shaggy brows. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I wouldn't say too much about mother's death if I were you. +Stick to her birth, and the date she joined the church, and her +marriages—they're sure. But mother's death is a little uncertain, just +yet." +</P> + +<P> +A toothless chuckle came from the adjoining room. Mrs. Williamson had +been an interested listener to the conversation. +</P> + +<P> +"Order my coffin, Ducker, on your way down, but never mind the flowers, +they might not keep," she shrilled after him as he beat a hasty retreat. +</P> + +<P> +When Mr. Ducker, crestfallen and humiliated, re-entered the Mercury +office a few moments later, he was watched by two twinkling Irish eyes, +that danced with unholy merriment at that good man's discomfiture. They +belonged to Ignatius Benedicto McSorley, the editor of the other paper. +</P> + +<P> +But Mrs. Ducker was hopeful. A friend of hers in Winnipeg had already a +house in view for them, and Mrs. Ducker had decided the church they +would attend when the session opened, and what day she would have, and +many other important things that it is well to have one's mind made up +on and not leave to the last. Maudie Ducker had been taken into the +secret, and began to feel sorry for the other little girls whose papas +were contented to let them live always in such a pokey little place as +Millford. Maudie also began to dream dreams of sweeping in upon the +Millford people in flowing robes and waving plumes and sparkling +diamonds, in a gorgeous red automobile. Wilford Ducker only of the +Ducker family was not taken into the secret. He was too young, his +mother said, to understand the change. +</P> + +<P> +The nomination day was drawing near, which had something to do with the +date of Maudie Ducker's party. Mrs. Ducker told Maudie they must invite +the czar and Pearl Watson, though, of course, she did not say the czar. +She said Algernon Evans and that little Watson girl. Maudie, being a +perfect little lady objected to Pearl Watson on account of her scanty +wardrobe, and to the czar's moist little hands; but Mrs. Ducker, +knowing that the czar's father was their long suit, stood firm. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ducker had said to her that very morning, rubbing his hands, and +speaking in the conspirator's voice: "We must leave no stone unturned. +This is the time of seed-sowing, my dear. We must pull every wire." +</P> + +<P> +The czar was a wire, therefore they proceeded to pull him. They did not +know he was a live wire until later. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl Watson's delight at being asked to a real party knew no bounds. +Maudie need not have worried about Pearl's appearing at the feast +without the festal robe. The dress that Camilla had made for her was +just waiting for such an occasion to air its loveliness. Anything that +was needed to complete her toilet was supplied by her kind-hearted +mistress, the czar's mother. +</P> + +<P> +But Mrs. Evans stood looking wistfully after her only son as Pearl +wheeled him gaily down the walk. He was beautifully dressed in the +finest of mull and valenciennes; his carriage was the loveliest they +could buy; Pearl in her neat hat and dress was a little nurse girl to +be proud of. But Mrs. Evans's pretty face was troubled. She was +thinking of the pretty baby pictures in the magazines, and Algernon was +so—different! And his nose was—strange, too, and she had massaged it +so carefully, too, and when, oh when, would he say "Daddy-dinger!" +</P> + +<P> +But Algeron was not envious of any other baby's beauty that afternoon, +nor worried about his nose either as he bumped up and down in his +carriage in glad good humour, and delivered full-sized gurgling "goos" +at every person he met, even throwing them along the street in the +prodigality of his heart, as he waved his fat hands and thumped his +heavy little heels. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl held her head high and was very much the body-guard as she lifted +the weighty ruler to the ground. Mrs. Ducker ran down the steps and +kissed the czar ostentatiously, pouring out such a volume of admiring +and endearing epithets that Pearl stood in bewilderment, wondering why +she had never heard of this before. Mrs. Ducker carried the czar into +the house, Pearl following with one eye shut, which was her way of +expressing perplexity. +</P> + +<P> +Two little girls in very fluffy short skirts, sat demurely in the +hammock, keeping their dresses clean and wondering if there would be +ice-cream. Within doors Maudie worried out the "Java March" on the +piano, to a dozen or more patient little listeners. On the lawn several +little girls played croquet. There were no boys at the party. Wilford +was going to have the boys—that is, the Conservative boys the next +day. Mrs. Ducker did not believe in co-education. Boys are so rough, +except Wilford. He had been so carefully brought up, he was not rough +at all. He stood awkwardly by the gate watching the girls play croquet. +He had been left without a station at his own request. Patsey Watson +rode by on a dray wagon, dirty and jolly. Wilford called to him +furtively, but Patsey was busy holding on and did not hear him. Wilford +sighed heavily. Down at the tracks a freight train shunted and +shuddered. Not a boy was in sight. He knew why. The farmers were +loading cattle cars. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl went around to the side lawn where the girls were playing +croquet, holding the czar's hand tightly. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you playin'?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +They told her. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you play it?" Mildred Bates asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess I can," Pearl said modestly. "But I'm always too busy for +games like that!" +</P> + +<P> +"Maudie Ducker says you never play," Mildred Bates said with pity in +her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Maudie Ducker is away off there," Pearl answered with dignity. "I have +more fun in one day than Maudie Ducker'll ever have if she lives to be +as old as Melchesidick, and it's not this frowsy +standin'-round-doin'-nothin' that you kids call fun either." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell us about it, Pearl," they shouted eagerly. Pearl's stories had a +charm. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," Pearl began, "ye know I wash Mrs. Evans's dishes every day, and +lovely ones they are, too, all pink and gold with dinky little ivy +leaves crawlin' out over the edges of the cups. I play I am at the +seashore and the tide is comin' in o'er and o'er the sand and 'round +and 'round the land, far as eye can see—that's out of a book. I put +all the dishes into the big dish pan, and I pertend the tide is risin' +on them, though it's just me pourin' on the water. The cups are the +boys and the saucers are the girls, the plates are the fathers and +mothers and the butter chips are the babies. Then I rush in to save +them, but not until they cry 'Lord save us, we perish!' Of course, I +yell it for them, good and loud too—people don't just squawk at a time +like that—it often scares Mrs. Evans even yet. I save the babies +first, I slush them around to clean them, but they never notice that, +and I stand them up high and dry in the drip-pan. Then I go in after +the girls, and they quiet down the babies in the drip-pan; and then the +mothers I bring out, and the boys and the fathers. Sometimes some of +the men make a dash out before the women, but you bet I lay them back +in a hurry. Then I set the ocean back on the stove, and I rub the +babies to get their blood circlin' again, and I get them all put to bed +on the second shelf and they soon forget they were so near death's +door." +</P> + +<P> +Mary Ducker had finished the "Java March" and "Mary's Pet Waltz," and +had joined the interested group on the lawn and now stood listening in +dull wonder. +</P> + +<P> +"I rub them all and shine them well," Pearl went on, "and get them all +packed off home into the china cupboard, every man jack o' them singin' +'Are we yet alive and see each other's face,' Mrs. Evans sings it for +them when she's there. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I get the vegetable dishes and bowls and silverware and all that, +and that's an excursion, and they're all drunk, not a sober man on +board. They sing 'Sooper up old boys,' 'We won't go home till mornin' +and all that, and crash! a cry bursts from every soul on board. They +have struck upon a rock and are going down! Water pours in at the +gunnel (that's just me with more water and soap, you know), but I ain't +sorry for them, for they're all old enough to know that 'wine is a +mocker, strong drink is ragin', and whosoever is deceived thereby is +not wise.' But when the crash comes and the swellin' waters burst in +they get sober pret' quick and come rushin' up on deck with pale faces +to see what's wrong, and I've often seen a big bowl whirl 'round and +'round kind o' dizzy and say 'woe is me!' and sink to the bottom. Mrs. +Evans told me that. Anyway I do save them at last, when they see what +whiskey is doin' for them. I rub them all up and send them home. The +steel knives—they're the worst of all. But though they're black and +stained with sin, they're still our brothers, and so we give them the +gold cure—that's the bath-brick, and they make a fresh start. +</P> + +<P> +"When I sweep the floor I pertend I'm the army of the Lord that comes +to clear the way from dust and sin, let the King of Glory in. Under the +stove the hordes of sin are awful thick, they love darkness rather than +light, because their deeds are evil! But I say the 'sword of the Lord +and of Gideon!' and let them have it! Sometimes I pertend I'm the woman +that lost the piece of silver and I sweep the house diligently till I +find it, and once Mrs. Evans did put ten cents in a corner just for fun +for me, and I never know when she's goin' to do something like that." +</P> + +<P> +Here Maudie Ducker, who had been listening with growing wonder +interrupted Pearl with the cry of "Oh, here's pa and Mr. Evans. They're +going to take our pictures!" +</P> + +<P> +The little girls were immediately roused out of the spell that +Pearlie's story had put upon them, and began to group themselves under +the trees, arranging their little skirts and frills. +</P> + +<P> +The czar had toddled on his uncertain little fat legs around to the +back door, for he had caught sight of a red head which he knew and +liked very much. It belonged to Mary McSorley, the eldest of the +McSorley family, who had brought over to Mrs. Ducker the extra two +quarts of milk which Mrs. Ducker had ordered for the occasion. +</P> + +<P> +Mary sat on the back step until Mrs. Ducker should find time to empty +her pitcher. Mary was strictly an outsider. Mary's father was a +Reformer. He ran the opposition paper to dear Mr. Evans. Mary was never +well dressed, partly accounted for by the fact that the angels had +visited the McSorley home so often. Therefore, for these reasons, Mary +sat on the back step, a rank outsider. +</P> + +<P> +The czar, who knew nothing of these things, began to "goo" as soon as +he saw her. Mary reached out her arms. The czar stumbled into them and +Mary fell to kissing his bald head. She felt more at home with a baby +in her arms. +</P> + +<P> +It was at this unfortunate moment that Mr. Ducker and Mr. Evans came +around to the rear of the house. Mr. Evans was beginning to think +rather more favourably of Mr. Ducker, as the prospective Conservative +member. He might do all right—there are plenty worse—he has no +brains—but that does not matter. What need has a man of brains when he +goes into politics? Brainy men make the trouble. The Grits made that +mistake once, elected a brainy man, and they have had no peace since. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Ducker had adroitly drawn the conversation to a general discussion +of children. He knew that Mr. Evans's weak point was his little son +Algernon. +</P> + +<P> +"That's a clever looking little chap of yours, Evans," he had remarked +carelessly as they came up the street. (Mr. Ducker had never seen the +czar closely.) "My wife was just saying the other day that he has a +wonderful forehead for a little fellow." +</P> + +<P> +"He has," the other man said smiling, not at all displeased. "It runs +clear down to his neck!" +</P> + +<P> +"He can hardly help being clever if there's anything in heredity," Mr. +Ducker went on with infinite tact, feeling his rainbow dreams of +responding to toasts at Elk banquets drawing nearer and nearer. +</P> + +<P> +Then the Evil Genius of the House of Ducker awoke from his slumber, sat +up and took notice! The house that the friend in Winnipeg had selected +for them fell into irreparable ruins! Poor Maudie's automobile vanished +at a touch. The rosy dreams of Cincinnatus, and of carrying the grand +old Conservative banner in the face of the foe turned to clay and ashes! +</P> + +<P> +They turned the corner, and came upon Mary McSorley who sat on the back +step with the czar in her arms. Mary's head was hidden as she kissed +the czar's fat neck, and in the general babel of voices, within and +without, she did not hear them coming. +</P> + +<P> +"Speaking about heredity," Mr. Ducker said suavely, speaking in a low +voice, and looking at whom he supposed to be the latest McSorley, "it +looks as if there must be something in it over there. Isn't that +McSorley over again? Low forehead, pug nose, bulldog tendencies." Mr. +Ducker was something of a phrenologist, and went blithely on to his own +destruction. +</P> + +<P> +"Now the girl is rather pleasant looking, and some of the others are +not bad at all. But this one is surely a regular little Mickey. I +believe a person would be safe in saying that he would not grow up a +Presbyterian."—Mr. Evans was the worshipful Grand Master of the Loyal +Orange Lodge, and well up in the Black, and this remark Mr. Ducker +thought he would appreciate. +</P> + +<P> +"McSorley will never be dead while this little fellow lives," Mr. +Ducker laughed merrily, rubbing his hands. +</P> + +<P> +The czar looked up and saw his father. Perhaps he understood what had +been said, and saw the hurt in his father's face and longed to heal him +of it; perhaps the time had come when he should forever break the +goo-goo bonds that had lain upon his speech. He wriggled off Mary's +knee, and toddling uncertainly across the grass with a mighty mental +conflict in his pudgy little face, held out his dimpled arms with a +glad cry of "Daddy-dinger!" +</P> + +<P> +That evening while Mrs. Ducker and Maudie were busy fanning Mr. Ducker +and putting wet towels on his head, Mr. Evans sat down to write. +</P> + +<P> +"Some more of that tiresome election stuff, John," his pretty little +wife said in disappointment, as she proudly rocked the emancipated czar +to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, dear, it is election stuff, but it is not a bit tiresome," he +answered smiling, as he kissed her tenderly. Several times during the +evening, and into the night, she heard him laugh his happy boyish laugh. +</P> + +<P> +James Ducker did not get the nomination. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BUTCHER-RIDE +</H3> + +<P> +Patsey Watson waited on the corner of the street. It was in the early +morning and Patsey's face bore marks of a recent and mighty conflict +with soap and water. Patsey looked apprehensively every now and then at +his home; his mother might emerge any minute and insist on his wearing +a coat; his mother could be very tiresome that way sometimes. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed long this morning to wait for the butcher, but the only way +to be sure of a ride was to be on the spot. Sometimes there were delays +in getting away from home. Getting on a coat was one; finding a hat was +the worst of all. Since Bugsey got the nail in his foot and could not +go out the hat question was easier. The hat was still hard to find, but +not impossible. +</P> + +<P> +Wilford Ducker came along. Wilford had just had a dose of electric oil +artfully concealed in a cup of tea, and he felt desperate. His mother +had often told him not to play with any of the Watson boys, they were +so rough and unladylike in their manner. Perhaps that was why Wilford +came over at once to Patsey. Patsey did not care for Wilford Ducker +even if he did live in a big house with screen doors on it. Mind you, +he did not wear braces yet, only a waist with white buttons on it, and +him seven! Patsey's manner was cold. +</P> + +<P> +"You goin' fer butcher-ride?" Wilford asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yep," Patsey answered with very little warmth. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Pat, lemme go," Wilford coaxed. +</P> + +<P> +"Nope," Patsey replied, indifferently. +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, do, Pat, won't cher?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Ducker had been very particular about Wilford's enunciation. Once +she dismissed a servant for dropping her final g's. Mrs. Ducker +considered it more serious to drop a final g than a dinner plate. She +often spoke of how particular she was. She said she had insisted on +correct enunciation from the first. So Wilford said again: +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, do, Pat, won't cher?" +</P> + +<P> +Patsey looked carelessly down the street and began to sing: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + How much wood would a wood-chuck chuck<BR> + If a wood-chuck could chuck wood.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +"What cher take fer butcher-ride, Pat?" Wilford asked. +</P> + +<P> +"What cher got?" +</P> + +<P> +Patsey had stopped singing, but still beat time with his foot to the +imaginary music. +</P> + +<P> +Wilford produced a jack-knife in very good repair. +</P> + +<P> +Patsey stopped beating time, though only for an instant. It does not do +to be too keen. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a good un," Wilford said with pride. "It's a Rodger, mind ye—two +blades." +</P> + +<P> +"Name yer price," Patsey condescended, after a deliberate examination. +</P> + +<P> +"Lemme ride all week, ord'rin' and deliv'rin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Not much, I won't," Patsey declared stoutly. "You can ride three days +for it." +</P> + +<P> +Wilford began to whimper, but just then the butcher cart whirled around +the corner. +</P> + +<P> +Wilford ran toward it. Patsey held the knife. +</P> + +<P> +The butcher stopped and let Wilford mount. It was all one to the +butcher. He knew he usually got a boy at this corner. +</P> + +<P> +Patsey ran after the butcher cart. He had caught sight of someone whom +Wilford had not yet noticed. It was Mrs. Ducker. Mrs. Ducker had been +down the street ordering a crate of pears. Mrs. Ducker was just as +particular about pears as she was about final g's, so she had gone +herself to select them. +</P> + +<P> +When she saw Wilford, her son, riding with the butcher—well, really, +she could not have told the sensation it gave her. Wilford could not +have told, either, just how he felt when he saw his mother. But both +Mrs. Ducker and her son had a distinct sensation when they met that +morning. +</P> + +<P> +She called Wilford, and he came. No sooner had he left his seat than +Patsey Watson took his place. Wilford dared not ask for the return of +the knife: his mother would know that he had had dealings with Patsey +Watson, and his account at the maternal bank was already overdrawn. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Ducker was more sorrowful than angry. +</P> + +<P> +"Wilford!" she said with great dignity, regarding the downcast little +boy with exaggerated scorn, "and you a Ducker!" +</P> + +<P> +She escorted the fallen Ducker sadly homeward, but, oh, so glad that +she had saved him from the corroding influence of the butcher boy. +</P> + +<P> +While Wilford Ducker was unfastening the china buttons on his waist, +preparatory to a season of rest and retirement, that he might the +better ponder upon the sins of disobedience and evil associations, +Patsey Watson was opening and shutting his new knife proudly. +</P> + +<P> +"It was easy done," he was saying to himself. "I'm kinder sorry I jewed +him down now. Might as well ha' let him have the week. Sure, there's no +luck in being mane." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HOW PEARL WATSON WIPED OUT THE STAIN +</H3> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell felt bitterly grieved with Polly for failing her just +when she needed her the most; "after me keepin' her and puttin' up with +her all summer," she said. She began to wonder where she could secure +help. Then she had an inspiration! +</P> + +<P> +The Watsons still owed ten dollars on the caboose. The eldest Watson +girl was big enough to work. They would get her. And get ten dollars' +worth of work out of her if they could. +</P> + +<P> +The next Saturday night John Watson announced to his family that old +Sam Motherwell wanted Pearlie to go out and work off the caboose debt. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Watson cried, "God help us!" and threw her apron over her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Who'll keep the dandrew out of me hair?" Mary said tearfully, "if +Pearlie goes away?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who'll make me remember to spit on me warts?" Bugsey asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Who'll keep house when ma goes to wash?" wee Tommy wailed dismally. +</P> + +<P> +Danny's grievance could not be expressed in words. He buried his tousy +head in Pearl's apron, and Pearl saw at once that her whole house were +about to be submerged in tears, idle tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop your bleatin', all of yez!" she commanded in her most +authoritative voice. "I will go!" she said, with blazing eyes. "I will +go, I will wipe the stain off me house once and forever!" waving her +arm dramatically toward the caboose which formed the sleeping apartment +for the boys. "To die, to die for those we love is nobler far than wear +a crown!" Pearl had attended the Queen Esther cantata the winter +before. She knew now how poor Esther felt. +</P> + +<P> +On the following Monday afternoon everything was ready for Pearl's +departure. Her small supply of clothing was washed and ironed and +neatly packed in a bird-cage. It was Mary who thought of the bird-cage +"sittin' down there in the cellar doin' nothin', and with a handle on +it, too." Mary was getting to be almost as smart as Pearl to think of +things. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl had bidden good-bye to them all and was walking to the door when +her mother called her back to repeat her parting instructions. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, mind, Pearlie dear, not to be pickin' up wid strangers, and +speakin' to people ye don't know, and don't be showin' yer money or +makin' change wid anyone." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl was not likely to disobey the last injunction. She had seventeen +cents in money, ten cents of which Teddy had given her, and the +remaining seven cents had come in under the heading of small sums, from +the other members of the family. +</P> + +<P> +She was a pathetic little figure in her brown and white checked dress, +with her worldly effects in the bird-cage, as she left the shelter of +her father's roof and went forth into the untried world. She went over +to Mrs. Francis to say good-bye to her and to Camilla. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis was much pleased with Pearl's spirit of independence and +spoke beautifully of the opportunities for service which would open for +her. +</P> + +<P> +"You must keep a diary, Pearl," she said enthusiastically. "Set down in +it all you see and feel. You will have such splendid opportunities for +observing plant and animal life—the smallest little insect is +wonderfully interesting. I will be so anxious to hear how you are +impressed with the great green world of Out of Doors! Take care of your +health, too, Pearl; see that your room is ventilated." +</P> + +<P> +While Mrs. Francis elaborated on the elements of proper living, Camilla +in the kitchen had opened the little bundle in the cage, and put into +it a pair of stockings and two or three handkerchiefs, then she slipped +in a little purse containing ten shining ten-cent pieces, and an +orange. She arranged the bundle to look just as it did before, so that +she would not have to meet Pearl's gratitude. +</P> + +<P> +Camilla hastily set the kettle to boil, and began to lay the table. She +could hear the velvety tones of Mrs. Francis's voice in the library. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Francis speaks a strange language," she said, smiling to herself, +"but it can be translated into bread and butter and apple sauce, and +even into shoes and stockings, when you know how to interpret it. But +wouldn't it be dreadful if she had no one to express it in the tangible +things of life for her. Think of her talking about proper diet and aids +to digestion to that little hungry girl. Well, it seems to be my +mission to step into the gap—I'm a miss with a mission"—she was +slicing some cold ham as she spoke—"I am something of a health talker, +too." +</P> + +<P> +Camilla knocked at the library door, and in answer to Mrs. Francis's +invitation to enter, opened the door and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Francis, would it not be well for Pearl to have a lunch before +she starts for her walk into the country; the air is so exhilarating, +you know." +</P> + +<P> +"How thoughtful you are, Camilla!" Mrs. Francis exclaimed with honest +admiration. +</P> + +<P> +Thus it happened that Pearlie Watson, aged twelve, began her journey +into the big unknown world, fully satisfied in body and soul, and with +a great love for all the world. +</P> + +<P> +At the corner of the street stood Mrs. McGuire, and at sight of her +Pearl's heart stopped beating. +</P> + +<P> +"It's bad luck," she said. "I'd as lief have a rabbit cross me path as +her." +</P> + +<P> +But she walked bravely forward with no outward sign of her inward +trembling. +</P> + +<P> +"Goin' to Sam Motherwell's, are ye?" the old lady asked shrilly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes'm," Pearl said, trembling. +</P> + +<P> +"She's a tarter; she's a skinner; she's a damner; that's what she is. +She's my own first cousin and I know HER. Sass her; that's the only way +to get along with her. Tell her I said so. Here, child, rub yer j'ints +with this when ye git stiff." She handed Pearl a black bottle of +home-made liniment. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl thanked her and hurried on, but at the next turn of the street +she met Danny. +</P> + +<P> +Danny was in tears; Danny wasn't going to let Pearlie go away; Danny +would run away and get lost and runned over and drownded, now! Pearl's +heart melted, and sitting on the sidewalk she took Danny in her arms, +and they cried together. A whirr of wheels aroused Pearl and looking up +she saw the kindly face of the young doctor. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Pearl?" he asked kindly. "Surely that's not Danny I see, +spoiling his face that way!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's Danny," Pearl said unsteadily. "It's hard enough to leave him +widout him comin' afther me and breakin' me heart all over again." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what it is, Pearl," the doctor said, smiling. "I think it is +mighty thoughtless of Danny the way he is acting." +</P> + +<P> +Danny held obstinately to Pearl's skirt, and cried harder than ever. He +would not even listen when the doctor spoke of taking him for a drive. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen to the doctor," Pearl commanded sternly, "or he'll raise a +gumboil on ye." +</P> + +<P> +Thus admonished Danny ceased his sobs; but he showed no sign of +interest when the doctor spoke of popcorn, and at the mention of +ice-cream he looked simply bored. +</P> + +<P> +"He's awful fond of 'hoo-hung' candy," Pearlie suggested in a whisper, +holding her hand around her mouth so that Danny might not hear her. +</P> + +<P> +"Ten cents' worth of 'hoo-hung' candy to the boy that says good-bye to +his sister like a gentleman and rides home with me." +</P> + +<P> +Danny dried his eyes on Pearl's skirt, kissed her gravely and climbed +into the buggy beside the doctor. Waterloo was won! +</P> + +<P> +Pearl did not trust herself to look back as she walked along the deeply +beaten road. +</P> + +<P> +The yellow cone-flowers raised their heads like golden stars along the +roadside, and the golden glory of the approaching harvest lay upon +everything. To the right the Tiger Hills lay on the horizon wrapped in +a blue mist. Flocks of blackbirds swarmed over the ripening oats, and +angrily fought with each other. +</P> + +<P> +"And it not costin' them a cent!" Pearl said in disgust as she stopped +to watch them. +</P> + +<P> +The exhilaration of the air, the glory of the waving grain, the +profusion of wild flowers that edged the fields with purple and yellow +were like wine to her sympathetic Irish heart as she walked through the +grain fields and drank in all the beauties that lay around, and it was +not until she came in sight of the big stone house, gloomy and bare, +that she realised with a start of homesickness that she was Pearl +Watson, aged twelve, away from home for the first time, and bound to +work three months for a woman of reputed ill-temper. +</P> + +<P> +"But I'll do it," Pearl said, swallowing the lump that gathered in her +throat, "I can work. Nobody never said that none of the Watsons +couldn't work. I'll stay out me time if it kills me." +</P> + +<P> +So saying, Pearl knocked timidly at the back door. Myriads of flies +buzzed on the screen. From within a tired voice said, "Come in." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl walked in and saw a large bare room, with a long table in the +middle. A sewing machine littered with papers stood in front of one +window. +</P> + +<P> +The floor had been painted a dull drab, but the passing of many feet +had worn the paint away in places. A stove stood in one corner. Over +the sink a tall, round-shouldered woman bent trying to get water from +an asthmatic pump. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's you, is it?" she said in a tone so very unpleasant that Pearl +thought she must have expected someone else. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes'm," Pearl said meekly. "Who were ye expectin'?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell stopped pumping for a minute and looked at Pearl. +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't ye git here earlier?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," Pearl began, "I was late gettin' started by reason of the +washin' and the ironin', and Jimmy not gettin' back wid the boots. He +went drivin' cattle for Vale the butcher, and he had to have the boots +for the poison ivy is that bad, and because the sugar o' lead is all +done and anyway ma don't like to keep it in the house, for wee Danny +might eat it—he's that stirrin' and me not there to watch him now." +</P> + +<P> +"Lord! what a tongue you have! Put down your things and go out and pick +up chips to light the fire with in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl laid her bird-cage on a chair and was back so soon with the chips +that Mrs. Motherwell could not think of anything to say. +</P> + +<P> +"Now go for the cows," she said, "and don't run them home!" +</P> + +<P> +"Where will I run them to then, ma'am?" Pearl asked innocently. +</P> + +<P> +"Good land, child, have I to tell you everything? Folks that can't do +without tellin' can't do much with, I say. Bring the cows to the bars, +and don't stand there staring at me." +</P> + +<P> +When Pearl dashed out of the door, she almost fell over the old dog who +lay sleepily snapping at the flies which buzzed around his head. He +sprang up with a growl which died away into an apologetic yawn as she +stooped to pat his honest brown head. +</P> + +<P> +A group of red calves stood at the bars of a small field plaintively +calling for their supper. It was not just an ordinary bawl, but a +double-jointed hyphenated appeal, indicating a very exhausted condition +indeed. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl looked at them in pity. The old dog, wrinkling his nose and +turning away his head, did not give them a glance. He knew them. Noisy +things! Let 'em bawl. Come on! +</P> + +<P> +Across the narrow creek they bounded, Pearl and old Nap, and up the +other hill where the silver willows grew so tall they were hidden in +them. The goldenrod nodded its plumy head in the breeze, and the tall +Gaillardia, brown and yellow, flickered unsteadily on its stem. +</P> + +<P> +The billows of shadow swept over the wheat on each side of the narrow +pasture; the golden flowers, the golden fields, the warm golden +sunshine intoxicated Pearl with their luxurious beauty, and in that +hour of delight she realised more pleasure from them than Sam +Motherwell and his wife had in all their long lives of barren +selfishness. Their souls were of a dull drab dryness in which no flower +took root, there was no gold to them but the gold of greed and gain, +and with it they had never bought a smile or a gentle hand pressure or +a fervid "God bless you!" and so it lost its golden colour, and turned +to lead and ashes in their hands. +</P> + +<P> +When Pearl and Nap got the cows turned homeward they had to slacken +their pace. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care how cross she is," Pearl said, "if I can come for the +cows every night. Look at that fluffy white cloud! Say, wouldn't that +make a hat trimming that would do your heart good. The body of the hat +blue like that up there, edged 'round with that cloud over there, then +a blue cape with white fur on it just to match. I kin just feel that +white stuff under my chin." +</P> + +<P> +Then Pearl began to cake-walk and sing a song she had heard Camilla +sing. She had forgotten some of the words, but Pearl never was at a +loss for words: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + The wild waves are singing to the shore<BR> + As they were in the happy days of yore.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Pearl could not remember what the wild waves were singing, so she sang +what was in her own heart: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + She can't take the ripple from the breeze,<BR> + And she can't take the rustle from the trees;<BR> + And when I am out of the old girl's sight<BR> + I can-just-do-as-I-please.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, I think the same way and try to act up to it," a man's +voice said slowly. "But don't let her hear you say so." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl started at the sound of the voice and found herself looking into +such a good-natured face that she laughed too, with a feeling of +good-fellowship. +</P> + +<P> +The old dog ran to the stranger with every sign of delight at seeing +him. +</P> + +<P> +"I am one of the neighbours," he said. "I live over there"—pointing to +a little car-roofed shanty farther up the creek. "Did I frighten you? I +am sorry if I did, but you see I like the sentiment of your song so +much I could not help telling you. You need not think it strange if you +find me milking one of the cows occasionally. You see, I believe in +dealing directly with the manufacturer and thus save the middleman's +profit, and so I just take what milk I need from So-Bossie over there." +</P> + +<P> +"Does she know?" Pearl asked, nodding toward the house. +</P> + +<P> +"Who? So-Bossie?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, Mrs. Motherwell." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, no," he answered slowly. "You haven't heard of her having a fit, +have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," Pearl answered wonderingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then we're safe in saying that the secret has been kept from her." +</P> + +<P> +"Does it hurt her, though?" Pearl asked. +</P> + +<P> +"It would, very much, if she knew it," the young man replied gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I mean the cow," Pearl said hastily. +</P> + +<P> +"It doesn't hurt the cow a bit. What does she care who gets the milk? +When did you come?" +</P> + +<P> +"To-night," Pearl said. "I must hurry. She'll have a rod in steep for +me if I'm late. My name's Pearl Watson. What's yours?" +</P> + +<P> +"Jim Russell," he said. "I know your brother Teddy." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl was speeding down the hill. She shouted back: +</P> + +<P> +"I know who you are now. Good-bye!" Pearl ran to catch up to the cows, +for the sun was throwing long shadows over the pasture, and the +plaintive lowing of the hungry calves came faintly to her ears. +</P> + +<P> +A blond young man stood at the bars with four milk pails. +</P> + +<P> +He raised his hat when he spoke to Pearl. +</P> + +<P> +"Madam says you are to help me to milk, but I assure you it is quite +unnecessary. Really, I would much prefer that you shouldn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" Pearl asked in wonder. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, by Jove! You see it is not a woman's place to work outside like +this, don't you know." +</P> + +<P> +"That's because ye'r English," Pearl said, a sudden light breaking in +on her. "Ma says when ye git a nice Englishman there's nothing nicer, +and pa knowed one once that was so polite he used to say 'Haw Buck' to +the ox and then he'd say, 'Oh, I beg yer pardon, I mean gee.' It wasn't +you, was it?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," he said smiling, "I have never driven oxen, but I have done a +great many ridiculous things I am sure." +</P> + +<P> +"So have I," Pearl said confidentially, as she sat down on a little +three-legged stool to milk So-Bossie. "You know them fluffy white +things all made of lace and truck like that, that is hung over the beds +in rich people's houses, over the pillows, I mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pillow-shams?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that's them! Well, when I stayed with Camilla one night at Mrs. +Francis's didn't I think they were things to pull down to keep the +flies off ye'r face. Say, you should have heard Camilla laugh, and ma +saw a girl at a picnic once who drank lemonade through her veil, and +she et a banana, skin and all." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl laughed heartily, but the Englishman only smiled faintly. +Canadian ways were growing stranger all the time. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," Pearl began after a pause, "who does the cow over there with the +horns bent down look like? Someone we both know, only the cow looks +pleasanter." +</P> + +<P> +"My word!" the Englishman exclaimed, "you're a rum one." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl looked disappointed. +</P> + +<P> +"Animals often look like people," she said. "We have two cows at home, +one looks like Mrs. White, so good and gentle, wouldn't say boo to a +goose; the other one looks just like Fred Miller. He works in the mill, +and his hair goes in a roll on the top; his mother did it that way with +a hair-pin too long, I guess, and now it won't go any other way, and I +know an animal that looks like you; he's a dandy, too, you bet. It is +White's dog, and he can jump the fence easy as anything." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, give over, give over!" the Englishman said stiffly. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl laughed delightedly. +</P> + +<P> +"It's lots of fun guessing who people are like," she said. "I'm awful +smart at it and so is Mary, four years younger'n me. Once we could not +guess who Mrs. Francis was like, and Mary guessed it. Mrs. Francis +looks like prayer—big bug eyes lookin' away into nothin', but hopin' +it's all for the best. Do you pray?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am a rector's son," he answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I know, minister's son, isn't that lovely? I bet you know prayers +and prayers. But it isn't fair to pray in a race is it? When Jimmy +Moore and my brother Jimmy ran under twelve, Jimmie Moore prayed, and +some say got his father to pray, too; he's the Methodist minister, you +know, and, of course, he won it; but our Jimmy could ha' beat him easy +in a fair race, and no favours; but he's an awful snoopie kid and prays +about everything. Do you sing?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do—a little," the Englishman said modestly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my, I am glad," Pearl cried rapturously. "When I was two years old +I could sing 'Hush my babe lie,' all through—I love singin'—I can +sing a little, too, but I don't care much for my own. Have they got an +organ here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," he answered, "I've only been in the kitchen." +</P> + +<P> +"Say, I'd like to see a melodeon. Just the very name of it makes me +think of lovely sounds, religious sounds, mountin' higher and higher +and swellin' out grander and grander, rollin' right into the great +white throne, and shakin' the streets of gold. Do you know the 'Holy +City,'" she asked after a pause. +</P> + +<P> +The Englishman began to hum it in a rich tenor. +</P> + +<P> +"That's it, you bet," she cried delightedly. "Just think of you coming +all the way across the ocean and knowing that just the same as we do. I +used to listen at the keyhole when Mrs. Francis had company, and I was +there helping Camilla. Dr. Clay sang that lots of times." +</P> + +<P> +The Englishman had not sung since he had left his father's house. He +began to sing now, in a sweet, full voice, resonant on the quiet +evening air, the cows staring idly at him. The old dog came down to the +bars with his bristles up, expecting trouble. +</P> + +<P> +Old Sam and his son Tom coming in from work stopped to listen to these +strange sounds. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound them English!" old Sam said. "Ye'd think I was payin' him to +do that, and it harvest-time, too!" +</P> + +<P> +When Dr. Clay, with Danny Watson gravely perched beside him, drove +along the river road after saying good-bye to Pearl, they met Miss +Barner, who had been digging ferns for Mrs. McGuire down on the river +flat. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor drew in his horse. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Barner," he said, lifting his hat, "if Daniel Mulcahey Watson and +I should ask you to come for a drive with us, I wonder what you would +say?" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Barner considered for a moment and then said, smiling: +</P> + +<P> +"I think I would say, 'Thank you very much, Mr. Watson and Dr. Clay, I +shall be delighted to come if you have room for me.'" +</P> + +<P> +Life had been easier for Mary Barner since Dr. Clay had come to +Millford. It was no longer necessary for her to compel her father to go +when he was sent for, and when patients came to the office, if she +thought her father did not know what he was doing, she got Dr. Clay to +check over the prescriptions. +</P> + +<P> +It had been rather hard for Mary to ask him to do this, for she had a +fair share of her father's Scotch pride; but she had done too many hard +things in her life to hesitate now. The young doctor was genuinely glad +to serve her, and he made her feel that she was conferring, instead of +asking, a favour. +</P> + +<P> +They drove along the high bank that fell perpendicularly to the river +below and looked down at the harvest scene that lay beneath them. The +air was full of the perfume of many flowers and the chatter of birds. +</P> + +<P> +The Reverend Hugh Grantley drove swiftly by them, whereupon Danny made +his presence known for the first time by the apparently irrelevant +remark: +</P> + +<P> +"I know who Miss Barner's fellow is! so I do." +</P> + +<P> +Now if Dr. Clay had given Danny even slight encouragement, he would +have pursued the subject, and that might have saved complications in +the days to come. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FROM CAMILLA'S DIARY +</H3> + +<P> +It is nearly six months since I came to live with Mrs. Francis, and I +like housework so well and am so happy at it, that it shows clearly +that I am not a disguised heiress. My proud spirit does not chafe a bit +at having to serve meals and wear a cap (you should see how sweet I +look in a cap). I haven't got the fear on my heart all day that I will +make a mistake in a figure that will rise up and condemn me at the end +of the month as I used to be when I was book-keeping on a high stool, +for the Western Hail and Fire Insurance Company (peace to its ashes!). +"All work is expression," Fra Elbertus says, so why may I not express +myself in blueberry pie and tomato soup? +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis is an appreciative mistress, and she is not so entirely +wrapped up in Browning as to be insensible to a good salad either, I am +glad to say. +</P> + +<P> +One night after we had company and everything had gone off well, Mr. +Francis came out into the kitchen, and looked over his glasses at me. +He opened his mouth twice to speak, but seemed to change his mind. I +knew what was struggling for utterance. Then he laid fifty cents on the +window sill, pointed at it, nodded to me, and went out hurriedly. My +first impulse was to hand it back—then I thought better of it—words +do not come easily to him. So he expressed himself in currency. I put +the money into my purse for a luck penny. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis is as serene as a summer sea, and can look at you without +knowing you are there. Mr. Francis is a peaceful man, too. He looks at +his wife in a helpless way when she begins to explain the difference +between the Elizabethan and the Victorian poets—I don't believe he +cares a cent for either of them. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis entertains quite a bit; I like it, too, and I do not go +and cry into the sink because I have to wait on the guests. She +entertains well and is a delightful hostess, but some of the people +whom she entertains do not appreciate her flights of fancy. +</P> + +<P> +I do not like to see them wink at each other, although I know it is +funny to hear Mrs. Francis elaborate on the mother's influence in the +home and the proper way to deal with selfishness in children; but she +means well, and they should remember that, no matter how funny she gets. +</P> + +<P> +April 18th.—She gave me a surprise to-day. She called me upstairs and +read to me a paper she was preparing to read before some society—she +belongs to three or four—on the domestic help problem. Well, it hadn't +very much to do with the domestic help problem, but of course I could +not tell her that so when she asked me what I thought of it I said: +</P> + +<P> +"If all employers were as kind as you and Mr. Francis there would be no +domestic help problem." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at me suddenly, and something seemed to strike her. I +believe it came to her that I was a creature of like passions with +herself, capable of gratitude, perhaps in need of encouragement. +Hitherto I think she has regarded me as a porridge and coffee machine. +</P> + +<P> +She put her arm around me and kissed me. +</P> + +<P> +"Camilla," she said gently—she has the softest, dreamiest voice I ever +heard—"I believe in the aristocracy of brains and virtue. You have +both." +</P> + +<P> +Farewell, oh Soulless Corporation! A long, last, lingering farewell, +for Camilla E. Rose, who used to sit upon the high stool and add +figures for you at ten dollars a week, is far away making toast for two +kindly souls, one of whom tells her she has brains and virtue and the +other one opens his mouth to speak, and then pushes fifty cents at her +instead. +</P> + +<P> +Danny Watson, bless his heart! is bringing madam up. He has wound +himself into her heart and the "whyness of the what" is packing up to +go. +</P> + +<P> +May 1st.—Mrs. Francis is going silly over Danny. A few days ago she +asked me if I could cut a pattern for a pair of pants. I told her I had +made pants once or twice and meekly inquired whom she wanted the pants +for. She said for a boy, of course—and she looked at me rather +severely. I knew they must be for Danny, and cut the pattern about the +size for him. She went into the sewing-room, and I only saw her at meal +times for two days. She wrestled with the garment. +</P> + +<P> +Last night she asked me if I would take a parcel to Danny with her +love. I was glad to go, for I was just dying to see how she had got +along. +</P> + +<P> +When I held them up before Mrs. Watson the poor woman gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"Save us all!" she cried. "Them'll fit none of us. We're poor, but, +thank God, we're not deformed!" +</P> + +<P> +I'll never forget the look of those pants. They haunt me still. +</P> + +<P> +May 15th.—Pearl Watson is the sweetest and best little girl I know. +Her gratitude for even the smallest kindness makes me want to cry. She +told me the other day she was sure Danny was going to be a doctor. She +bases her hopes on the questions that Danny asks. How do you know you +haven't got a gizzard? How would you like to be ripped clean up the +back? and Where does your lap go to when you stand up? She said, "Ma +and us all have hopes o' Danny." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis has a new role, that of matchmaker, though I don't suppose +she knows it. She had Mary Barner and the young minister for tea +to-night. Mary grows dearer and sweeter every day. People say it is not +often one girl praises another; but Mary is a dear little gray-eyed +saint with the most shapely hands I ever saw. Reverend Hugh thinks so, +too, I have no doubt. It was really too bad to waste a good fruit salad +on him though, for I know he didn't know what he was eating. Excelsior +would taste like ambrosia to him if Mary sat opposite—all of which is +very much as it should be, I know. I thought for a while Mary liked Dr. +Clay pretty well, but I know it is not serious, for she talks quite +freely of him. She is very grateful to him for helping her so often +with her father. But those gray-eyed Scotch people never talk of what +is nearest the heart. I wonder if he knows that Mary Barner is a queen +among women. I don't like Scotchmen. They take too much for granted. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FIFTH SON +</H3> + +<P> +Arthur Wemyss, fifth son of the Reverend Alfred Austin Wemyss, Rector +of St. Agnes, Tilbury Road, County of Kent, England, had but recently +crossed the ocean. He and six hundred other fifth sons of rectors and +earls and dukes had crossed the ocean in the same ship and had been +scattered abroad over Manitoba and the Northwest Territories to be +instructed in agricultural pursuits by the honest granger, and +incidentally to furnish nutriment for the ever-ready mosquito or wasp, +who regarded all Old Country men as their lawful meat. +</P> + +<P> +The honest granger was paid a sum varying between fifty and one hundred +fifty dollars for instructing one of these young fellows in farming for +one year, and although having an Englishman was known to be a pretty +good investment, the farmers usually spoke of them as they would of the +French-weed or the rust in the wheat. Sam Motherwell referred to his +quite often as "that blamed Englishman" and often said, unjustly, that +he was losing money on him every day. +</P> + +<P> +Arthur—the Motherwells could not have told his other name—had learned +something since he came. He could pull pig-weed for the pigs and throw +it into the pen; he had learned to detect French-weed in the grain; he +could milk; he could turn the cream-separator; he could wash dishes and +churn, and he did it all with a willingness, a cheerfulness that would +have appealed favourably to almost any other farmer in the +neighbourhood, but the lines had fallen to Arthur in a stony place, and +his employer did not notice him at all unless to find fault with him. +Yet he bore it all with good humour. He had come to Canada to learn to +farm. +</P> + +<P> +The only real grievance he had was that he could not get his "tub." The +night he arrived, dusty and travel-stained after his long journey, he +had asked for his "tub," but Mr. Motherwell had told him in language he +had never heard before—that there was no tub of his around the +establishment, that he knew of, and that he could go down and have a +dip in the river on Sunday if he wanted to. Then he had conducted him +with the lantern to his bed in the loft of the granary. +</P> + +<P> +A rickety ladder led up to the bed, which was upon a temporary floor +laid about half way across the width of the granary. Bags of musty +smelling wheat stood at one end of this little room. Evidently Mr. +Motherwell wished to discourage sleep-walking in his hired help, for +the floor ended abruptly and a careless somnambulist would be +precipitated on the old fanning mill, harrow teeth and other debris +which littered the floor below. +</P> + +<P> +The young Englishman reeled unsteadily going up the ladder. He could +still feel the chug-chug-chug of the ocean liner's engines and had to +hold tight to the ladder's splintered rungs to preserve his equilibrium. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Motherwell raised the lantern with sudden interest. +</P> + +<P> +"Say," he said, more cheerfully than he had yet spoken, "you haven't +been drinking, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Intoxicants, do you mean?" the Englishman asked, without turning +around. "No, I do not drink." +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't happen to bring anything over with you, did you, for +seasickness on the boat?" Mr. Motherwell queried anxiously, holding the +lantern above his head. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I did not," the young man said laconically. +</P> + +<P> +"Turn out at five to-morrow morning then," his employer snapped in +evident disappointment, and he lowered the lantern so quickly that it +went out. +</P> + +<P> +The young man lay down upon his hard bed. His utter weariness was a +blessing to him that night, for not even the racing mice, the musty +smells or the hardness of his straw bed could keep him from slumber. +</P> + +<P> +In what seemed to him but a few minutes, he was awakened by a loud +knocking on the door below, voices shouted, a dog barked, cow-bells +jangled; he could hear doors banging everywhere, a faint streak of +sunlight lay wan and pale on the mud-plastered walls. +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" he said yawning, "I know now what Kipling meant when he said +'the dawn comes up like thunder.'" +</P> + +<P> +A few weeks after Arthur's arrival, Mrs. Motherwell called him from the +barn, where he sat industriously mending bags, to unhitch her horse +from the buggy. She had just driven home from Millford. Nobody had +taken the trouble to show Arthur how it was done. +</P> + +<P> +"Any fool ought to know," Mr. Motherwell said. +</P> + +<P> +Arthur came running from the barn with his hat in his hand. He grasped +the horse firmly by the bridle and led him toward the barn. As they +came near the water trough the horse began to show signs of thirst. +Arthur led him to the trough, but the horse tossed his head and was +unable to get it near the water on account of the check. +</P> + +<P> +Arthur watched him a few moments with gathering perplexity. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't lift this water vessel," he said, looking at the horse +reproachfully. "It's too heavy, don't you know. Hold! I have it," he +cried with exultation beaming in his face; and making a dash for the +horse he unfastened the crupper. +</P> + +<P> +But the exultation soon died from his face, for the horse still tossed +his head in the vain endeavour to reach the water. +</P> + +<P> +"My word!" he said, wrinkling his forehead, "I believe I shall have to +lift the water-vessel yet, though it is hardly fit to lift, it is so +wet and nasty." Arthur spoke with a deliciously soft Kentish accent, +guiltless of r's and with a softening of the h's that was irresistible. +</P> + +<P> +A light broke over his face again. He went behind the buggy and lifted +the hind wheels. While he was holding up the wheels and craning his +neck around the back of the buggy to see if his efforts were +successful, Jim Russell came into the yard, riding his dun-coloured +pony Chiniquy. +</P> + +<P> +He stood still in astonishment. Then the meaning of it came to him and +he rolled off Chiniquy's back, shaking with silent laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, come, Arthur," he said as soon as he could speak. "Stop trying +to see how strong you are. Don't you see the horse wants a drink?" +</P> + +<P> +With a perfectly serious face Jim unfastened the check, whereupon the +horse's head was lowered at once, and he drank in long gulps the water +that had so long mocked him with its nearness. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, thank you, Mr. Russell," the Englishman cried delightedly. "Thanks +awfully, it is monstrously clever of you to know how to do everything. +I wish I could go and live with you. I believe I could learn to farm if +I were with you." +</P> + +<P> +Jim looked at his eager face so cruelly bitten by mosquitoes. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you, Arthur," he said smiling, "I haven't any need for a man +to work, but I suppose I might hire you to keep the mosquitoes off the +horses. They wouldn't look at Chiniquy, I am sure, if they could get a +nip at you." +</P> + +<P> +The Englishman looked perplexed. +</P> + +<P> +"You are learning as well as any person could learn," Jim said kindly. +"I think you are doing famously. No person is particularly bright at +work entirely new. Don't be a bit discouraged, old man, you'll be a +rich land-owner some day, proprietor of the A. J. Wemyss Stock Farm, +writing letters to the agricultural papers, judge of horses at the +fairs, giving lectures at dairy institutes—oh, I think I see you, +Arthur!" +</P> + +<P> +"You are chaffing me," Arthur said smiling. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed I am not. I am very much in earnest. I have seen more unlikely +looking young fellows than you do wonderful things in a short time, and +just to help along the good work I am going to show you a few things +about taking off harness that may be useful to you when you are +president of the Agricultural Society of South Cypress, or some other +fortunate municipality." +</P> + +<P> +Arthur's face brightened. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, thank you, Mr. Russell," he said. +</P> + +<P> +That night Arthur wrote home a letter that would have made an +appropriate circular for the Immigration Department to send to +prospective settlers. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FAITH THAT MOVETH MOUNTAINS +</H3> + +<P> +When supper was over and Pearl had washed the heavy white dishes Mrs. +Motherwell told her, not unkindly, that she could go to bed. She would +sleep in the little room over the kitchen in Polly's old bed. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't need no lamp," she said, "if you hurry. It is light up +there." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell was inclined to think well of Pearl. It was not her +soft brown eyes, or her quaint speech that had won Mrs. Motherwell's +heart. It was the way she scraped the frying-pan. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl went up the ladder into the kitchen loft, and found herself in a +low, long room, close and stifling, one little window shone light +against the western sky and on it innumerable flies buzzed unceasingly. +Old boxes, old bags, old baskets looked strange and shadowy in the +gathering gloom. The Motherwells did not believe in giving away +anything. The Indians who went through the neighbourhood each fall +looking for "old clo'" had long ago learned to pass by the big stone +house. Indians do not appreciate a strong talk on shiftlessness the way +they should, with a vision of a long cold winter ahead of them. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl gazed around with a troubled look on her face. A large basket of +old carpet rags stood near the little bed. She dragged it into the +farthest corner. She tried to open the window, but it was nailed fast. +</P> + +<P> +Then a determined look shone in her eyes. She went quickly down the +little ladder. +</P> + +<P> +"Please ma'am," she said going over to Mrs. Motherwell, "I can't sleep +up there. It is full of diseases and microscopes." +</P> + +<P> +"It's what?" Mrs. Motherwell almost screamed. She was in the pantry +making pies. +</P> + +<P> +"It has old air in it," Pearl said, "and it will give me the fever." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell glared at the little girl. She forgot all about the +frying pan. +</P> + +<P> +"Good gracious!" she said. "It's a queer thing if hired help are going +to dictate where they are going to sleep. Maybe you'd like a bed set up +for you in the parlour!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not if the windies ain't open," Pearl declared stoutly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well they ain't; there hasn't been a window open in this house since +it was built, and there isn't going to be, letting in dust and flies." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl gasped. What would Mrs. Francis say to that? +</P> + +<P> +"It's in yer graves ye ought to be then, ma'am," she said with honest +conviction. "Mrs. Francis told me never to sleep in a room with the +windies all down, and I as good as promised I wouldn't. Can't we open +that wee windy, ma'am?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell was tired, unutterably tired, not with that day's work +alone, but with the days and years that had passed away in gray +dreariness; the past barren and bleak, the future bringing only visions +of heavier burdens. She was tired and perhaps that is why she became +angry. +</P> + +<P> +"You go straight to your bed," she said, with her mouth hard and her +eyes glinting like cold flint, "and none of your nonsense, or you can +go straight back to town." +</P> + +<P> +When Pearl again reached the little stifling room, she fell on her +knees and prayed. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear God," she said, "there's gurms here as thick as hair on a dog's +back, and You and me know it, even if she don't. I don't know what to +do, dear Lord—the windy is nelt down. Keep the gurms from gittin' into +me, dear Lord. Do ye mind how poor Jeremiah was let down into the mire +and ye tuk care o' him, didn't ye? Take care o' me, dear Lord. Poor ma +has enough to do widout me comin' home clutterin' up the house wid +sickness. Keep yer eye on Danny if ye can at all, at all. He's awful +stirrin'. I'll try to git the windy riz to-morrow by hook or crook, so +mebbe it's only to-night ye'll have to watch the gurms. Amen." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl braided her hair into two little pigtails, with her little +dilapidated comb. When she brought out the contents of the bird-cage +and opened it in search of her night-dress, the orange rolled out, +almost frightening her. The purse, too, rattled on the bare floor as it +fell. +</P> + +<P> +She picked it up, and by going close to the fly-specked window she +counted the ten ten-cent pieces, a whole dollar. Never was a little +girl more happy. +</P> + +<P> +"It was Camilla," she whispered to herself. "Oh, I love Camilla! and I +never said 'God bless Camilla,'"—with a sudden pang of remorse. +</P> + +<P> +She was on her knees in a moment and added the postscript. +</P> + +<P> +"I can send the orange home to ma, and she can put the skins in the +chist to make the things smell nice, and I'll git that windy open +to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +Clasping her little purse in her hand, and with the orange close beside +her head, she lay down to sleep. The smell of the orange made her +forget the heavy air in the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Anyway," she murmured contentedly, "the Lord is attendin' to all that." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl slept the heavy sleep of healthy childhood and woke in the gray +dawn before anyone else in the household was stirring. She threw on +some clothing and went down the ladder into the kitchen. She started +the fire, secured the basin full of water and a piece of yellow soap +and came back to her room for her "oliver." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't lave it all to the Lord to do," she said, as she rubbed the +soap on her little wash-rag. "It doesn't do to impose on good nature." +</P> + +<P> +When Tom, the only son of the Motherwells, came down to light the fire, +he found Pearl setting the table, the kitchen swept and the kettle +boiling. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl looked at him with her friendly Irish smile, which he returned +awkwardly. +</P> + +<P> +He was a tall, stoop-shouldered, rather good-looking lad of twenty. He +had heavy gray eyes, and a drooping mouth. +</P> + +<P> +Tom had gone to school a few winters when there was not much doing, but +his father thought it was a great deal better for a boy to learn to +handle horses and "sample wheat," and run a binder, than learn the +"pack of nonsense they got in school nowadays," and when the pretty +little teacher from the eastern township came to Southfield school, +Mrs. Motherwell knew at one glance that Tom would learn no good from +her—she was such a flighty looking thing! Flowers on the under side of +her hat! +</P> + +<P> +So poor Tom grew up a clod of the valley. Yet Mrs. Motherwell would +tell you, "Our Tom'll be the richest man in these parts. He'll get +every cent we have and all the land, too; and I guess there won't be +many that can afford to turn up their noses at our Tom. And, mind ye, +Tom can tell a horse as well as the next one, and he's a boy that won't +waste nothin', not like some we know. Look at them Slaters now! Fred +and George have been off to college two years, big over-grown hulks +they are, and young Peter is going to the Agricultural College in +Guelph this winter, and the old man will hire a man to take care of the +stock, and him with three boys of his own. Just as if a boy can learn +about farmin' at a college! and the way them girls dress, and the old +lady, too, and her not able to speak above a whisper. The old lady +wears an ostrich feather in her bonnet, and they're a terrible costly +thing, I hear. Mind you they only keep six cows, and they send every +drop they don't use to the creamery. Everybody can do as they like, I +suppose, but I know they'll go to the wall, and they deserve it too!" +</P> + +<P> +And yet! +</P> + +<P> +She and Mrs. Slater had been girls together and sat in school with arms +entwined and wove romances of the future, rosy-hued and golden. When +they consulted the oracle of "Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, rich +man, poor man, beggar man, thief," the buttons on her gray winsey dress +had declared in favour of the "rich man." Then she had dreamed dreams +of silks and satins and prancing steeds and liveried servants, and +ease, and happiness—dreams which God in His mercy had let her forget +long, long ago. +</P> + +<P> +When she had become the mistress of the big stone house, she had +struggled hard against her husband's penuriousness, defiantly +sometimes, and sometimes tearfully. But he had held her down with a +heavy hand of unyielding determination. At last she grew weary of +struggling, and settled down in sullen submission, a hopeless +heavy-eyed, spiritless women, and as time went by she became greedier +for money than her husband. +</P> + +<P> +"Good-morning," Pearl said brightly. "Are you Mr. Tom Motherwell?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's what!" Tom replied. "Only you needn't mind the handle." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," she said, "I want a little favor done. Will you open the +window upstairs for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" Tom asked, staring at her. +</P> + +<P> +"To let in good air. It's awful close up there, and I'm afraid I'll get +the fever or somethin' bad." +</P> + +<P> +"Polly got it," Tom said. "Maybe that is why Polly got it. She's awful +sick now. Ma says she'll like as not die. But I don't believe ma will +let me open it." +</P> + +<P> +"Where is Polly?" Pearl asked eagerly. She had forgotten her own +worries. "Who is Polly? Did she live here?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's in the hospital now in Brandon," Tom said in answer to her rapid +questions. "She planted them poppies out there, but she never seen the +flowers on them. Ma wanted me to cut them down, for Polly used to put +off so much time with them, but I didn't want to. Ma was mad, too, you +bet," he said, with a reminiscent smile at his own foolhardiness. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl was thinking—she could see the poppies through the window, +bright and glowing in the morning light. They rocked lightly in the +wind, and a shower of crimson petals fell. Poor Polly! she hadn't seen +them. +</P> + +<P> +"What's Polly's other name?" she asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Polly Bragg," he answered. "She was awful nice, Polly was, and jolly, +too. Ma thought she was lazy. She used to cry a lot and wish she could +go home; but my! she could sing fine." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl went on with her work with a preoccupied air. +</P> + +<P> +"Tom, can you take a parcel for me to town to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am not goin'," he said in surprise. "Pa always goes if we need +anything. I haven't been in town for a month." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you go to church?" Pearl asked in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"No, you bet I don't, not now. The preacher was sassy to pa and tried +to get money. Pa says he'll never touch wood in his church again, and +pa won't give another cent either, and, mind you, last year we gave +twenty-five dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"We paid fourteen dollars," Pearl said, "and Mary got six dollars on +her card." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but you town people don't have the expenses we have." +</P> + +<P> +"That's true, I guess," Pearl said doubtfully—she was wondering about +the boot bills. "Pa gets a dollar and a quarter every day, and ma gets +seventy-five cents when she washes. We're gettin' on fine." +</P> + +<P> +Then Mrs. Motherwell made her appearance, and the conversation came to +an end. +</P> + +<P> +That afternoon when Pearl had washed the dishes and scrubbed the floor, +she went upstairs to the little room to write in her diary. She knew +Mrs. Francis would expect to see something in it, so she wrote +laboriously: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + I saw a lot of yalla flowers and black-burds. The rode + was full of dust and wagging marks. I met a man with + a top buggy and smelt a skunk. Mrs. M. made a kake + to-day—there was no lickens. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + I'm goin' to tidy up the granary for Arthur. He's + offel nice—an' told me about London Bridge—it hasn't + fallen down at all, he says, that's just a song. +</P> + +<P> +All day long the air had been heavy and close, and that night while +Pearl was asleep the face of the heavens was darkened with +storm-clouds. Great rolling masses came up from the west, shot through +with flashes of lightening, and the heavy silence was more ominous than +the loudest thunder would have been. The wind began in the hills, gusty +and fitful at first, then bursting with violence over the plain below. +There was a cutting whine in it, like the whang of stretched steel, +fateful, deadly as the singing of bullets, chilling the farmer's heart, +for he knows it means hail. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl woke and sat up in bed. The lightning flashed in the little +window, leaving the room as black as ink. She listened to the whistling +wind. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the hail," she whispered delightedly. "I knew the Lord would find +a way to open the windy without me puttin' my fist through it—I'll +have a look at the clouds to see if they have that white edge on them. +No—I won't either—it isn't my put in. I'll just lave the Lord alone. +Nothin' makes me madder than when I promise Tommy or Mary or any of +them something and then have them frettin' all the time about whether +or not I'll get it done. I'd like to see the clouds though. I'll bet +they're a sight, just like what Camilla sings about: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Dark is His path on the wings o' the storm.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +In the kitchen below the Motherwells gathered with pale faces. The +windows shook and rattled in their casings. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep away from the stove, Tom," Mrs. Motherwell said, trembling. +"That's where the lightnin' strikes." +</P> + +<P> +Tom's teeth were chattering. +</P> + +<P> +"This'll fix the wheat that's standing, every—bit of it," Sam said. He +did not make it quite as strong as he intended. Something had taken the +profanity out of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Hadn't you better go up and bring the kid down, ma?" Tom asked, +thinking of Pearl. +</P> + +<P> +"Her!" his father said contemptuously. "She'll never hear it." The wind +suddenly ceased. Not a breath stirred, only a continuous glare of +lightning. Then crack! crack! crack! on the roof, on the windows, +everywhere, like bad boys throwing stones, heavier, harder, faster, +until it was one beating, thundering roar. +</P> + +<P> +It lasted but a few minutes, though it seemed longer to those who +listened in terror in the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +The roar grew less and less and at last ceased altogether, and only a +gentle rain was falling. +</P> + +<P> +Sam Motherwell sat without speaking, "You have cheated the Lord all +these years, and He has borne with you, trying to make you pay up +without harsh proceedings"—he found himself repeating the minister's +words. Could this be what he meant by harsh proceedings? Certainly it +was harsh enough taking away a man's crop after all his hard work. +</P> + +<P> +Sam was full of self-pity. There were very few men who had ever been +treated as badly as he felt himself to be. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe there'll only be a streak of it hailed out," Tom said, breaking +in on his father's dismal thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll see in the mornin'," his father growled, and Tom went back to +bed. +</P> + +<P> +When Pearl woke it was with the wind blowing in upon her; the morning +breeze fragrant with the sweetness of the flowers and the ripening +grain. The musty odours had all gone, and she felt life and health in +every breath. The blackbirds were twittering in the oats behind the +house, and the rising sun was throwing long shadows over the field. +Scattered glass lay on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew the dear Lord would fix the gurms," Pearl said as she dressed, +laughing to herself. But her face clouded in a moment. What about the +poppies? +</P> + +<P> +Then she laughed again. "There I go frettin' again. I guess the Lord +knows they're, there and He isn't going to smash them if Polly really +needs them." +</P> + +<P> +She dressed herself hastily and ran down the ladder and around behind +the cookhouse, where a strange sight met her eyes. The cookhouse roof +had been blown off and placed over the poppies, where it had sheltered +them from every hailstone. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl looked under the roof. The poppies stood there straight and +beautiful, no doubt wondering what big thing it was that hid them from +the sun. +</P> + +<P> +When Tom and his father went out in the early dawn to investigate the +damage done by the storm, they found that only a narrow strip through +the field in front of the house had been touched. +</P> + +<P> +The hail had played a strange trick; beating down the grain along this +narrow path, just as if a mighty roller had come through it, until it +reached the house, on the other side of which not one trace of damage +could be found. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't we get off lucky?" Tom exclaimed "and the rest of the grain is +not even lodged. Why, twenty-five dollars would cover the whole loss, +cookhouse roof and all." +</P> + +<P> +His father was looking over the rippling field, green-gold in the rosy +dawn. He started uncomfortably at Tom's words. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty-five dollars! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +INASMUCH +</H3> + +<P> +After sundown one night Pearl's resolve was carried into action. She +picked a shoe-box full of poppies, wrapping the stems carefully in wet +newspaper. She put the cover on, and wrapped the box neatly. +</P> + +<P> +Then she wrote the address. She wrote it painfully, laboriously, in +round blocky letters. Pearl always put her tongue out when she was +doing anything that required minute attention. She was so anxious to +have the address just right that her tongue was almost around to her +ear. The address read: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + Miss Polly Bragg, english gurl<BR> + and sick with fever<BR> + Brandon Hospittle<BR> + Brandon.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Then she drew a design around it. Jimmy's teacher had made them once in +Jimmy's scribbler, just beautiful. She was sorry she could not do a +bird with a long strip of tape in his mouth with "Think of Me" or "From +a Friend" or "Love the Giver" on it. Ma knew a man once who could do +them, quick as wink. He died a drunkard with delirium trimmings, but +was terrible smart. +</P> + +<P> +Then she stuck, under the string, a letter she had written to Camilla. +Camilla would get them sent to Polly. +</P> + +<P> +"I know how to get them sent to Camilla too, you bet," she murmured. +"There are two ways, both good ones, too. Jim Russell is one way. Jim +knows what flowers are to folks." +</P> + +<P> +She crept softly down the stairs. Mrs Motherwell had left the kitchen +and no one was about. The men were all down at the barn. +</P> + +<P> +She turned around the cookhouse where the poppies stood straight and +strong against the glowing sky. A little single red one with white +edges swayed gently on its slender stem and seemed to beckon to her +with pleading insistence. She hurried past them, fearing that she would +be seen, but looking back the little poppy was still nodding and +pleading. +</P> + +<P> +"And so ye can go, ye sweetheart," she whispered. "I know what ye +want." She came back for it. +</P> + +<P> +"Just like Danny would be honin' to come, if it was me," she murmured +with a sudden blur of homesickness. +</P> + +<P> +Through the pasture she flew with the speed of a deer. The tall +sunflowers along the fence seemed to throw a light in the gathering +gloom. +</P> + +<P> +A night hawk circled in the air above her, and a clumsy bat came +bumping through the dusk as she crossed the creek just below Jim's +shanty. +</P> + +<P> +Bottles, Jim's dog, jumped up and barked, at which Jim himself came to +the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Come back, Bottles," he called to the dog. "How will I ever get into +society if you treat callers that way, and a lady, too! Dear, dear, is +my tie on straight? Oh, is that you Pearl? Come right in, I am glad to +see you." +</P> + +<P> +Over the door of Jim's little house the words "Happy Home" were printed +in large letters and just above the one little window another sign +boldly and hospitably announced "Hot Meals at all Hours." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl stopped at the door. "No, Jim," she said, "it's not visitin' I +am, but I will go in for a minute, for I must put this flower in the +box. Can ye go to town, Jim, in a hurry?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can," Jim replied. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean now, this very minute, slappet-bang!" +</P> + +<P> +Jim started for the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Howld on, Jim!" Pearl cried, "don't you want to hear what ye'r goin' +for? Take this box to Camilla—Camilla E. Rose at Mrs. Francis's—and +she'll do the rest. It's flowers for poor Polly, sick and dyin' maybe +with the fever. But dead or alive, flowers are all right for folks, +ain't they, Jim? The train goes at ten o'clock. Can ye do it, Jim?" +</P> + +<P> +Jim was brushing his hair with one hand and reaching for his coat with +the other. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's the money to pay for the ride on the cars," Pearl said, +reaching out five of her coins. +</P> + +<P> +Jim waved his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"That's my share of it," he said, pulling his cap down on his head. +"You see, you do the first part, then me, then Camilla—just like the +fiery cross." He was half way to the stable as he spoke. +</P> + +<P> +He threw the saddle on Chiniquy and was soon galloping down the road +with the box under his arm. +</P> + +<P> +Camilla came to the door in answer to Jim's ring. +</P> + +<P> +He handed her the box, and lifting his hat was about to leave without a +word, when Camilla noticed the writing. +</P> + +<P> +"From Pearl," she said eagerly. "How is Pearl? Come in, please, while I +read the letter—it may require an answer." +</P> + +<P> +Camilla wore a shirt-waist suit of brown, and the neatest collar and +tie, and Jim suddenly became conscious that his boots were not +blackened. +</P> + +<P> +Camilla left him in the hall, while she went into the library and read +the contents of the letter to Mr. and Mrs. Francis. +</P> + +<P> +She returned presently and with a pleasant smile said, holding out her +hand, "You are Mr. Russell. I am glad to meet you. Tell Pearl the +flowers will be sent to-night." +</P> + +<P> +She opened the door as she spoke, and Jim found himself going down the +steps, wondering just how it happened that he had not said one word—he +who was usually so ready of speech. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well," he said to himself as he untied Chiniquy, "little Jimmy's +lost his tongue, I wonder why?" +</P> + +<P> +All the way home the vision of lovely dark eyes and rippling brown hair +with just a hint of red in it, danced before him. Chiniquy, taking +advantage of his master's preoccupation, wandered aimlessly against a +barbed wire, taking very good care not to get too close to it himself. +Jim came to himself just in time to save his leg from a prod from the +spikes. +</P> + +<P> +"Chiniquy, Chiniquy," he said gravely, "I understand now something of +the hatred the French bear your illustrious namesake. But no matter +what the man's sins may have been, surely he did not deserve to have a +little flea-bitten, mangey, treacherous, mouse-coloured deceiver like +you named for him." +</P> + +<P> +When Camilla had read Pearl's letter to Mr. and Mrs. Francis, the +latter was all emotion. How splendid of her, so sympathetic, so full of +the true inwardness of Christian love, and the sweet message of the +poppy, the emblem of sleep, so prophetic of that other sleep that knows +no waking! Is it not a pagan thought, that? What tender recollections +they will bring the poor sufferer of her far away, happy childhood home! +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis's face was shining with emotion as she spoke. Then she +became dreamy. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder is her soul attune to the melodies of life, and will she feel +the love vibrations of the ether?" +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Francis had noiselessly left the room when Camilla had finished her +rapid explanation. He returned with his little valise in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +He stood a moment irresolutely looking, in his helpless dumb way, at +his wife, who was so beautifully expounding the message of the flowers. +</P> + +<P> +Camilla handed him the box. She understood. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis noticed the valise in her husband's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"How very suddenly you make up your mind, James," she said. "Are you +actually going away on the train to-night? Really James, I believe I +shall write a little sketch for our church paper. Pearl's +thoughtfulness has moved me, James. It really has touched me deeply. If +you were not so engrossed in business, James, I really believe it would +move you; but men are so different from us, Camilla. They are not so +soulful. Perhaps it is just as well, but really sometimes, James, I +fear you give business too large a place in your life. It is all +business, business, business." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis opened her desk, and drawing toward her her gold pen and +dainty letter paper, began her article. +</P> + +<P> +Camilla followed Mr. Francis into the hall, and helped him to put on +his overcoat. She handed him his hat with something like reverence in +her manner. +</P> + +<P> +"You are upon the King's business to-night," she said, with shining +eyes, as she opened the door for him. +</P> + +<P> +He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only waved his hand with an +impatient gesture and was gone. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HOW POLLY WENT HOME +</H3> + +<P> +"We'll have to move poor Polly, if she lives thro' the night," the +nurse said to the house doctor in the hospital that night. "She is +making all the patients homesick. To hear her calling for her mother or +for 'someone from 'ome' is hard on the sick and well." +</P> + +<P> +"What are her chances do you think?" the doctor asked gravely. +</P> + +<P> +He was a wiry little man with a face like leather, but his touch +brought healing and his presence, hope. +</P> + +<P> +"She is dying of homesickness as well as typhoid," the nurse said +sadly, "and she seems so anxious to get better, poor thing! She often +says 'I can't die miss, for what'll happen mother.' But for the last +two days, in her delirium, she seems to be worrying more about her work +and her flowers. I think they were pretty hard people she lived with. +'Surely she'll praise me this time,' she often says, 'I've tried my +'ardest.' The strenuous life has been too much for poor Polly. Listen +to her now!" +</P> + +<P> +Polly was singing. Clear and steady and sweet, her voice rang over the +quiet ward, and many a fevered face was raised to listen. Polly's mind +was wandering in the shadows, but she still sang the songs of home in a +strange land: +</P> + +<P> + Down by the biller there grew a green willer<BR> + A weeping all night with the bank for a piller.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +And over and over again she sang with a wavering cadence, incoherently +sometimes, but always with tender pleading, something about "where the +stream was a-flowin', the gentle kine lowin', and over my grave keep +the green willers growin'." +</P> + +<P> +"It is pathetic to hear her," the nurse said, "and now listen to her +asking about her poppies." +</P> + +<P> +"In the box, miss; I brought the seed hacross the hocean, and they wuz +beauties, they wuz wot came hup. They'll be noddin' and wavin' now red +and 'andsome, if she hasn't cut them. She wouldn't cut them, would she, +miss? She couldn't 'ave the 'eart, I think." +</P> + +<P> +"No indeed, she hasn't cut them," the nurse declared with decision, +taking Polly's burning hand tenderly in hers. "No one could cut down +such beauties. What nonsense to think of such a thing, Polly. They're +blooming, I tell you, red and handsome, almost as tall as you are, +Polly." +</P> + +<P> +The office-boy touched the nurse's arm. +</P> + +<P> +"A gentleman who gave no name left this box for one of the typhoid +patients," he said, handing her the box. +</P> + +<P> +The nurse read the address and the box trembled in her hands as she +nervously opened it and took out the contents. +</P> + +<P> +"Polly, Polly!" she cried, excitedly, "didn't I tell you they were +blooming, red and handsome." +</P> + +<P> +But Polly's eyes were burning with delirium and her lips babbled +meaninglessly. +</P> + +<P> +The nurse held the poppies over her. +</P> + +<P> +Her arms reached out caressingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, miss!" she cried, her mind coming back from the shadows. "They +have come at last, the darlin's, the sweethearts, the loves, the +beauties." She held them in a close embrace. "They're from 'ome, +they're from 'ome!" she gasped painfully, for her breath came with +difficulty now. "I can't just see them, miss, the lights is movin' so +much, and the way the bed 'eaves, but, tell me, miss, is there a little +silky one, hedged with w'ite? It was mother's favourite one of hall. +I'd like to 'ave it in my 'and, miss." +</P> + +<P> +The nurse put it in her hand. She was only a young nurse and her face +was wet with tears. +</P> + +<P> +"It's like 'avin' my mother's 'and, miss, it is," she murmured softly. +"Ye wouldn't mind the dark if ye 'ad yer mother's 'and, would ye, miss?" +</P> + +<P> +And then the nurse took Polly's throbbing head in her strong young +arms, and soothed its restless tossing with her cool soft touch, and +told her through her tears of that other Friend, who would go with her +all the way. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm that 'appy, miss," Polly murmured faintly. "It's like I was goin' +'ome. Say that again about the valley," and the nurse repeated tenderly +that promise of incomparable sweetness: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow + of death I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, + thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. +</P> + +<P> +"It's just like 'avin' mother's 'and to 'old the little silky one," +Polly murmured sleepily. +</P> + +<P> +The nurse put the poppies beside Polly's face on the pillow, and +drawing a screen around her went on to the next patient. A case of +urgent need detained her at the other end of the ward, and it was not +until the dawn was shining blue in the windows that she came back on +her rounds. +</P> + +<P> +Polly lay just as she had left her. The crimson petals lay thick upon +her face and hair. The homesickness and redness of weeping had gone +forever from her eyes, for they were looking now upon the King in his +beauty! In her hand, now cold and waxen, she held one little silky +poppy, red with edges of white. Polly had gone home. +</P> + +<P> +There was a whisper among the poppies that grew behind the cookhouse +that morning as the first gleam of the sun came yellow and wan over the +fields; there was a whisper and a shivering among the poppies as the +morning breezes, cold and chill, rippled over them, and a shower of +crystal drops mingled with the crimson petals that fluttered to the +ground. It was not until Pearl came out and picked a handful of them +for her dingy little room that they held up their heads once more and +waved and nodded, red and handsome. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"EGBERT AND EDYTHE" +</H3> + +<P> +When Tom Motherwell called at the Millford post office one day he got +the surprise of his life. +</P> + +<P> +The Englishman had asked him to get his mail, and, of course, there was +the Northwest Farmer to get, and there might be catalogues; but the +possibilities of a letter addressed to Mr. Thos. Motherwell did not +occur to him. +</P> + +<P> +But it was there! +</P> + +<P> +A square gray envelope with his own name written on it. He had never +before got a real letter. Once he had a machinery catalogue sent to +him, with a typewritten letter inside beginning "Dear Sir," but his +mother had told him that it was just money they were after, but what +would she say if she saw this? +</P> + +<P> +He did not trust himself to open it in the plain gaze of the people in +the office. The girl behind the wicket noticed his excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"Ye needn't glue yer eye on me," Tom thought indignantly. "I'll not +open it here for you to watch me. They're awful pryin' in this office. +What do you bet she hasn't opened it?" He moved aside as others pressed +up to the wicket, feeling that every eye was upon him. +</P> + +<P> +In a corner outside the door, Tom opened his letter, and laboriously +made out its contents. It was written neatly with carefully shaded +capitals: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + Dear Tom: We are going to have a party to-morrow night, + because George and Fred are going back to college next + week. We want you to come and bring your Englishman. + We all hope you will come.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + Ever your friend,<BR> + NELLIE SLATER.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Tom read it again with burning cheeks. A party at Slater's and him +invited! +</P> + +<P> +He walked down the street feeling just the same as when his colt got +the prize at the "Fair." He felt he was a marked man—eagerly sought +after—invited to parties—girls writing to him! That's what it was to +have the cash!—you bet pa and ma were right!—money talks every time! +</P> + +<P> +When he came in sight of home his elation vanished. His father and +mother would not let him go, he knew that very well. They were afraid +that Nellie Slater wanted to marry him. And Nellie Slater was not +eligible for the position of daughter-in-law. Nellie Slater had never +patched a quilt nor even made a tie-down. She always used baking powder +instead of cream of tartar and soda, and was known to have a leaning +toward canned goods. Mrs. Motherwell considered her just the girl to +spend a man's honest earnings and bring him to seedy ruin. Moreover, +she idled away her time, teaching cats to jump, and her eighteen years +old, if she was a day! +</P> + +<P> +Tom knew that if he went to the party it must be by stealth. When he +drove up to the kitchen door his mother looked up from her ironing and +asked: +</P> + +<P> +"What kept you, Tom?" +</P> + +<P> +Tom had not been detained at all, but Mrs. Motherwell always used this +form of salutation to be sure. +</P> + +<P> +Tom grumbled a reply, and handing out the mail began to unhitch. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell read the addresses on the Englishman's letters: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + Mr. Arthur Wemyss,<BR> + c/o Mr. S. Motherwell,<BR> + Millford P.O.,<BR> + Manitoba, Canada,<BR> + Township 8, range 16, sec't. 20. North America.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +"Now I wonder who's writing to him?" she said, laying the two letters +down reluctantly. +</P> + +<P> +There was one other letter addressed to Mr. Motherwell, which she took +to be a twine bill. It was post-marked Brandon. She put it up in the +pudding dish on the sideboard. +</P> + +<P> +As Tom led the horse to the stable he met Pearl coming in with the eggs. +</P> + +<P> +"See here, kid," he said carelessly, handing her the letter. +</P> + +<P> +Tom knew Pearl was to be trusted. She had a good head, Pearl had, for a +girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, good shot!" Pearl cried delightedly, as she read the note. "Won't +that be great? Are your clothes ready, though?" It was the eldest of +the family who spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Clothes," Tom said contemptuously. "They are a blamed sight readier +than I am." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll blacken your boots," Pearl said, "and press out a tie. Say, how +about a collar?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the clothes are all right, but pa and ma won't let me go near +Nellie Slater." +</P> + +<P> +"Is she tooberkler?" Pearl asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Not so very," Tom answered guardedly. "Ma is afraid I might marry her." +</P> + +<P> +"Is she awful pretty?" Pearl asked, glowing with pleasure. Here was a +rapturous romance. +</P> + +<P> +"You bet," Tom declared with pride. "She's the swellest girl in these +parts"—this with the air of a man who had weighed many feminine charms +and found them wanting. +</P> + +<P> +"Has she eyes like stars, lips like cherries, neck like a swan, and a +laugh like a ripple of music?" Pearl asked eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"Them's it," Tom replied modestly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'd go, you bet!" was Pearl's emphatic reply. "There's your +mother calling." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes'm, I'm comin'. I'll help you, Tom. Keep a stout heart and all will +be well." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl knew all about frustrated love. Ma had read a story once, called +"Wedded and Parted, and Wedded Again." Cruel and designing parents had +parted young Edythe (pronounced Ed'-ith-ee) and Egbert, and Egbert just +pined and pined and pined. How would Mrs. Motherwell like it if poor +Tom began to pine and turn from his victuals. The only thing that saved +Egbert from the silent tomb where partings come no more, was the old +doctor who used to say, "Keep a stout heart, Egbert, all will be well." +That's why she said it to Tom. +</P> + +<P> +Edythe had eyes like stars, mouth like cherries, neck like a swan, and +a laugh like a ripple of music, and wasn't it strange, Nellie Slater +had, too? Pearl knew now why Tom chewed Old Chum tobacco so much. Men +often plunge into dissipation when they are crossed in love, and maybe +Tom would go and be a robber or a pirate or something; and then he +might kill a man and be led to the scaffold, and he would turn his +haggard face to the howling mob, and say, "All that I am my mother made +me." Say, wouldn't that make her feel cheap! Wouldn't that make a woman +feel like thirty cents if anything would. Here Pearl's gloomy +reflections overcame her and she sobbed aloud. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell looked up apprehensively +</P> + +<P> +"What are you crying for, Pearl?" she asked not unkindly. +</P> + +<P> +Then, oh, how Pearl wanted to point her finger at Mrs. Motherwell, and +say with piercing clearness, the way a woman did in the book: +</P> + +<P> +"I weep not for myself, but for you and for your children." But, of +course, that would not do, so she said: +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't cryin'—much." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl was grating horse-radish that afternoon, but the tears she shed +were for the parted lovers. She wondered if they ever met in the +moonlight and vowed to be true till the rocks melted in the sun, and +all the seas ran dry. That's what Egbert had said, and then a rift of +cloud passed athwart the moon's face, and Edythe fainted dead away +because it is bad luck to have a cloud go over the moon when people are +busy plighting vows, and wasn't it a good thing that Egbert was there +to break her fall? Pearl could just see poor Nellie Slater standing +dry-eyed and pale at the window wondering if Tom could get away from +his lynx-eyed parents who dogged his every footstep, and Pearl's tears +flowed afresh. +</P> + +<P> +But Nellie Slater was not standing dry-eyed and pale at the window. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ask Tom Motherwell?" Fred, her brother, asked, looking up from +a list he held in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I sent him a note," Nellie answered, turning around from the +baking-board. "We couldn't leave Tom out. Poor boy, he never has any +fun, and I do feel sorry for him." +</P> + +<P> +"His mother won't let him come, anyway," Fred said smiling. "So don't +set your heart on seeing him, Nell." +</P> + +<P> +"How discouraging you are Fred," Nellie replied laughing. "Now, I +believe he will come. Tom would be a smart boy if he had a chance, I +think. But just think what it must be like to live with two people like +the Motherwells. You do not realise it, Fred, because you have had the +superior advantages of living with clever people like your brother +Peter and your sister Eleanor Mary; isn't that so, Peter?" +</P> + +<P> +Peter Slater, the youngest of the family, who had just come in, laid +down the milk-pails before replying. +</P> + +<P> +"We have done our best for them all, Nellie," he said modestly. "I hope +they will repay us. But did I hear you say Tom Motherwell was coming?" +</P> + +<P> +"You heard Nell say so," Fred answered, checking over the names. "Nell +seems to like Tom pretty well." +</P> + +<P> +"I do, indeed," Nellie assented, without turning around. +</P> + +<P> +"You show good taste, Eleanor," Peter said as he washed his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is going to drive into town for Camilla?" Nellie asked that +evening. +</P> + +<P> +"I am," Fred answered promptly. +</P> + +<P> +"No, you're not, I am," Peter declared. +</P> + +<P> +George looked up hastily. +</P> + +<P> +"I am going to bring Miss Rose out," he said firmly. +</P> + +<P> +Then they laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Father," Nellie said gravely, "just to save trouble among the boys, +will you do it?" +</P> + +<P> +"With the greatest of pleasure," her father said, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +Under Pearl's ready sympathy Tom began to feel the part of the stricken +lover, and to become as eager to meet Nellie as Egbert had been to meet +the beautiful Edythe. He moped around the field that afternoon and let +Arthur do the heavy share of the work. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning before Mrs. Motherwell appeared Pearl and Tom decided +upon the plan of campaign. Pearl was to get his Sunday clothes taken to +the bluff in the pasture field, sometime during the day. Then in the +evening Tom would retire early, watch his chance, slip out the front +door, make his toilet on the bluff, and then, oh bliss! away to Edythe. +Pearl had thought of having him make a rope of the sheets; but she +remembered that this plan of escape was only used when people were +leaving a place for good—such as a prison; but for coming back again, +perhaps after all, it was better to use the front door. Egbert had used +the sheets, though. +</P> + +<P> +Fortune favoured Pearl's plans that afternoon. A book agent called at +the back door with the prospectus of a book entitled, "Woman's +Influence in the Home." While he was busy explaining to Mrs. Motherwell +the great advantages of possessing a copy of this book, and she was +equally busy explaining to him her views on bookselling as an +occupation for an able-bodied man, Pearl secured Tom's suit, ran down +the front stairs, out the front door and away to the bluff. +</P> + +<P> +Coming back to the house she had an uneasy feeling that she was doing +something wrong. Then she remembered Edythe, dry-eyed and pale, and her +fears vanished. Pearl had recited once at a Band of Hope meeting a poem +of her own choosing—this was before the regulations excluding secular +subjects became so rigid. Pearl's recitation dealt with a captive +knight who languished in a mouldy prison. He begged a temporary +respite—his prayer was heard—a year was given him. He went back to +his wife and child and lived the year in peace and happiness. The hour +came to part, friends entreated—wife and child wept—the knight alone +was calm. +</P> + +<P> +He stepped through the casement, a proud flush on his cheek, casting +aside wife, child, friends. "What are wife and child to the word of a +knight?" he said. "And behold the dawn has come!" +</P> + +<P> +Pearl had lived the scene over and over; to her it stood for all that +was brave and heroic. Coming up through the weeds that day, she was +that man. Her step was proud, her head was thrown back, her brown eyes +glowed and burned; there was strength and grace in every motion. +</P> + +<P> +When Tom Motherwell furtively left his father's house, and made his way +to the little grove where his best clothes were secreted, his movements +were followed by two anxious brown eyes that looked out of the little +window in the rear of the house. +</P> + +<P> +The men came in from the barn, and the night hush settled down upon the +household. Mr. and Mrs. Motherwell went to their repose, little +dreaming that their only son had entered society, and, worse still, was +exposed to the baneful charms of the reckless young woman who was known +to have a preference for baking powder and canned goods, and curled her +hair with the curling tongs. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PARTY AT SLATER'S +</H3> + +<P> +"I wonder how we are going to get all the people in to-night," Edith +Slater said gravely as the family sat at supper. "I am afraid the walls +will be bulged out to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"The new chicken-house and the cellar will do for the overflow +meetings," George remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"I borrow the pantry if it comes to a crush, you and I, Camilla," Peter +Slater said, helping himself to another piece of pie. Camilla had come +out in the afternoon to help with the preparations. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Camilla is my partner," Fred said severely. "Peter is growing up +too fast, don't you think so, mother? Since I lent him my razor to play +with there's no end to the airs he gives himself. I think he should go +to bed at eight o'clock to-night, same as other nights." +</P> + +<P> +Peter laughed scornfully, but Nellie interposed. +</P> + +<P> +"You boys needn't quarrel over Camilla for Jim Russell is coming, and +when Camilla sees him, what chance do you suppose you'll have?" +</P> + +<P> +"And when Jim sees Camilla, what chance will you have, Nell?" George +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Not one in a hundred; but I am prepared for the worst," Nellie +answered, good-naturedly. +</P> + +<P> +"That means she has asked Tom Motherwell," Peter explained. +</P> + +<P> +Then Mrs. Slater told them to hurry along with their supper for the +people would soon be coming. +</P> + +<P> +It was Mrs. Slater who had planned the party. Mrs. Slater was the +leading spirit in everything in the household that required dash and +daring. Hers was the dominant voice, though nothing louder than a +whisper had been heard from her for years. She laughed in a whisper, +she cried in a whisper. Yet in some way her laugh was contagious, and +her tears brought comfort to those with whom she wept. +</P> + +<P> +When she proposed the party the girls foresaw difficulties. The house +was small—there were so many to ask—it was a busy time. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Slater stood firm. +</P> + +<P> +"Ask everybody," she whispered. "Nobody minds being crowded at a party. +I was at a party once where we had to go outside to turn around, the +house was so small. I'll never forget what a good time we had." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Slater was dressed and ready for anything long before the time had +come for the guests to arrive. An hour before he had sat down +resignedly and said, "Come, girls, do as you think best with the old +man, scrub him, polish him, powder him, blacken his eyebrows, do not +spare him, he's yours," and the girls had laughingly accepted the +privilege. +</P> + +<P> +George, whose duty it was to attend to the lamps for the occasion, came +in with a worried look, on his usually placid face. +</P> + +<P> +"The aristocratic parlour-lamp is indisposed," he said. "It has balked, +refuses to turn up, and smells dreadfully." +</P> + +<P> +"Bring in the plebeians, George," Fred cried gaily, "and never mind the +patrician—the forty-cent plebs never fail. I told Jim Russell to bring +his lantern, and Peter can stand in a corner and light matches if we +are short." +</P> + +<P> +"It's working now," Edith called from the parlour, "burning +beautifully; mother drew her hand over it." +</P> + +<P> +Soon the company began to arrive. Bashful, self-conscious girls, some +of them were, old before their time with the marks of toil, heavy and +unremitting, upon them, hard-handed, stoop-shouldered, dull-eyed and +awkward. These were the daughters of rich farmers. Good girls they +were, too, conscientious, careful, unselfish, thinking it a virtue to +stifle every ambition, smother every craving for pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +When they felt tired, they called it laziness and felt disgraced, and +thus they had spent their days, working, working from the gray dawn, +until the darkness came again, and all for what? When in after years +these girls, broken in health and in spirits, slipped away to premature +graves, or, worse still, settled into chronic invalidism, of what avail +was the memory of the cows they milked, the mats they hooked, the +number of pounds of butter they made. +</P> + +<P> +Not all the girls were like these. Maud Murray was there. Maud Murray +with the milkmaid cheeks and curly black hair, the typical country girl +of bounding life aid spirits, the type so often seen upon the stage and +so seldom elsewhere. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell had warned Tom against Maud Murray as well as Nellie +Slater. She had once seen Maud churning, and she had had a newspaper +pinned to the wall in front of her, and was reading it as she worked, +and Mrs. Motherwell knew that a girl who would do that would come to no +good. +</P> + +<P> +Martha Perkins was the one girl of whom Mrs. Motherwell approved. +Martha's record on butter and quilts and mats stood high. Martha was a +nice quiet girl. Mrs. Motherwell often said a "nice, quiet, unappearing +girl." Martha certainly was quiet. Her conversational attainments did +not run high. "Things is what they are, and what's the good of saying +anything," Martha had once said in defence of her silent ways. +</P> + +<P> +She was small and sallow-skinned and was dressed in an anaemic gray; +her thin hay-coloured hair was combed straight back from a rather fine +forehead. She stooped a little when she walked, and even when not +employed her hands picked nervously at each other. Martha's shyness, +the "unappearing" quality, was another of her virtues in the eyes of +Tom's mother. Martha rarely left home even to go to Millford. Martha +did not go to the Agricultural Fair when her mats and quilts and butter +and darning and buttonholes on cotton got their red tickets. Martha +stayed at home and dug potatoes—a nice, quiet, unappearing girl. +</P> + +<P> +When they played games at the Slaters that evening, Martha would not +play. She never cared for games she said, they tired a person so. She +would just watch the others, and she wished again that she had her +knitting. +</P> + +<P> +Then the kitchen floor was cleared; table, chairs and lounge were set +outside to make room for the dancing, and when the violins rang out +with the "Arkansaw Traveller," and big John Kennedy in his official +voice of caller-off announced, "Select your partners," every person +felt that the real business of the evening had begun. +</P> + +<P> +Tom had learned to dance, though his parents would have been surprised +had they known it. Out in the granary on rainy days hired men had +obligingly instructed him in the mysteries of the two-step and waltz. +He sat in a corner and watched the first dance. When Jim Russell came +into the hall, after receiving a warm welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Slater, +who stood at the door, he was conscious of a sudden thrill of pleasure. +It was the vision of Camilla, at the farther end of the dining-room, as +she helped the Slater girls to receive their guests. Camilla wore a red +dress that brought out the blue-black of her eyes, and it seemed to Jim +as he watched her graceful movements that he had never seen anyone so +beautiful. She was piloting a bevy of bashful girls to the stairway, +and as she passed him she gave him a little nod and smile that set his +heart dancing. +</P> + +<P> +He heard the caller-off calling for partners for a quadrille. The +fiddlers had already tuned their instruments. From where he stood he +could see the figures forming, but Jim watched the stairway. At last +she came, with a company of other girls, none of whom he saw, and he +asked her for the first dance. Jim was not a conceited young man, but +he felt that she would not refuse him. Nor did she. +</P> + +<P> +Camilla danced well and so did Jim, and many an eye followed them as +they wound in and out through the other dancers. When the dance was +over he led her to a seat and sat beside her. They had much to talk of. +Camilla was anxious to hear of Pearl, and it seemed all at once that +they had become very good friends indeed. +</P> + +<P> +The second dance was a waltz. Tom did not know that it was the music +that stirred his soul with a sudden tenderness, a longing indefinite, +that was full of pain and yet was all sweetness. Martha who sat near +him looked at him half expectantly. But her little gray face and +twitching hands repelled him. On the other side of the room, Nellie +Slater, flushed and smiling was tapping her foot to the music. +</P> + +<P> +He found himself on his feet. "Who cares for mats?" he muttered. He was +beside Nellie in an instant. +</P> + +<P> +"Nellie, will you dance with me?" he faltered, wondering at his own +temerity. +</P> + +<P> +"I will, Tom, with pleasure," she said, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +His arm was around her now and they were off, one, two, three; one, +two, three; yes, he had the step. "Over the foam we glide," in and out +through the other dancers, the violins weaving that story of love never +ending. "What though the world be wide"—Nellie's head was just below +his face—"Love's golden star will guide." Nellie's hand was in his as +they floated on the rainbow-sea. "Drifting along, glad is our +song"—her hair blew against his cheek as they swept past the open +door. What did he care what his mother would say. He was Egbert now. +Edythe was in his arms. "While we are side by side" the violins sang, +glad, triumphant, that old story that runs like a thread of gold +through all life's patterns; that old song, old yet ever new, +deathless, unchangeable, which maketh the poor man rich and without +which the richest becomes poor! +</P> + +<P> +When the music stopped, Tom awoke from his idolatrous dream. He brought +Nellie to a seat and sat awkwardly beside her. His old self-complacency +had left him. Nellie was talking to him, but he did not hear what she +said. He was not looking at her, but at himself. Before he knew it she +had left him and was dancing with Jim Russell. Tom looked after them, +miserable. She was looking into Jim's face, smiling and talking. What +the mischief were they saying? He tried to tell himself that he could +buy and sell Jim Russell; Jim had not anything in the world but a +quarter of scrub land. They passed him again, still smiling and +talking. "Nellie Slater is making herself mighty cheap," he thought +angrily. Then the thought came home to him with sudden bitterness—how +handsome Jim was, so straight and tall, so well-dressed, so clever, +and, bitterest of all, how different from him. +</P> + +<P> +When Jim and Camilla were sitting out the second dance he told her +about Arthur, the Englishman, who sat in a corner, shy and +uncomfortable. Camilla became interested at once, and when he brought +Arthur over and introduced him, Camilla's friendly smile set him at his +ease. Then Jim generously vacated his seat and went to find Nellie +Slater. +</P> + +<P> +"Select your partners for a square dance!" big John, the caller-off +announced, when the floor was cleared. This was the dance that Mr. and +Mrs. Slater would have to dance. It was in vain that Mrs. Slater +whispered that she had not danced for years, that she was a Methodist +bred and born. That did not matter. Her son Peter declared that his +mother could dance beautifully, jigs and hornpipes and things like +that. He had often seen her at it when she was down in the milkhouse +alone. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Slater whispered dreadful threats; but her son Peter insisted, and +when big John's voice rang out "Honors all," "Corners the same," Mrs. +Slater yielded to the tide of public opinion. +</P> + +<P> +Puffing and blowing she got through the "First four right and left," +"Right and left back and ladies' chain"; but when it came to "Right +hand to partner" and "Grand right and left," it was good-bye to mother! +Peter dashed into the set to put his mother right, but mother was +always pointing the wrong way. "Swing the feller that stole the sheep," +big John sang to the music; "Dance to the one that drawed it home," +"Whoop 'er up there, you Bud," "Salute the one that et the beef" and +"Swing the dog, that gnawed the bone." "First couple lead to the +right," and mother and father went forward again and "Balance all!" +Tonald McKenzie was opposite mother; Tonald McKenzie did +steps—Highland fling steps they were. Tonald was a Crofter from the +hills, and had a secret still of his own which made him a sort of +uncrowned king among the Crofters. It was a tight race for popularity +between mother and Tonald in that set, and when the two stars met face +to face in the "Balance all!" Tonald surpassed all former efforts. He +cracked his heels together, he snapped his fingers; he threaded the +needle; he wrung the dishcloth—oh you should have seen Tonald! +</P> + +<P> +Then big John clapped his hands together, and the first figure was over. +</P> + +<P> +In the second figure for which the violins played "My Love Is but a +Lassie Yet," Mrs. Slater's memory began to revive, and the dust of +twenty years fell from her dancing experience. She went down the centre +and back again, right and left on the side, ladies' chain on the head, +right hand to partner and grand right and left, as neat as you please, +and best of all, when all the ladies circled to the left, and all the +gentlemen circled to the right, no one was quicker to see what was the +upshot of it all; and before big John told them to "Form the basket," +mother whispered to father that she knew what was coming, and father +told mother she was a wonderful woman for a Methodist. "Turn the basket +inside out," "Circle to the left—to the centre and back, circle to the +right," "Swing the girl with the hole in her sock," "Promenade once and +a half around on the head, once and a half around on the side," "Turn +'em around to place again and balance all!" "Clap! Clap! Clap!" +</P> + +<P> +Mother wanted to quit then, but dear me no! no one would let her, they +would dance the "Break-down" now, and leave out the third figure, and +as a special inducement, they would dance "Dan Tucker." She would stay +for "Dan Tucker." Peter came in for "Tucker," an extra man being +necessary, and then off they went into +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + Clear the way for old Dan Tucker,<BR> + He's too late to come to supper.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Two by two they circled around, Peter in the centre singing— +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + Old Dan Tucker<BR> + Was a fine old man—<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Then back to the right— +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + He washed his face<BR> + In the frying-pan.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Then around in a circle hand in hand— +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + He combed his hair<BR> + On a wagon-wheel,<BR> + And died with the tooth-ache<BR> + In his heel!<BR> +</P> + +<P> +As they let go of their partners' hands and went right and left, Peter +made his grand dash into the circle, and when the turn of the tune came +he was swinging his mother, his father had Tonald's partner, and Tonald +was in the centre in the title roll of Tucker, executing some of the +most intricate steps that had ever been seen outside of the Isle of +Skye. +</P> + +<P> +Then the tune changed into the skirling bag-pipe lilt all Highlanders +love—and which we who know not the Gaelic profanely call "Weel may the +keel row"—and Tonald got down to his finest work. +</P> + +<P> +He was in the byre now at home beyond the sea, and it is not strange +faces he will be seein', but the lads and lassies of the Glen, and it +is John McNeash who holds the drone under his arm and the chanter in +his hands, and the salty tang of the sea comes up to him and the +peat-smoke is in his nostrils, and the pipes skirl higher and higher as +Tonald McKenzie dances the dance of his forbears in a strange land. +They had seen Tonald dance before, but this was different, for it was +not Tonald McKenzie alone who danced before them, but the incarnate +spirit of the Highlands, the unconquerable, dauntless, lawless +Highlands, with its purple hills and treacherous caverns that fling +defiance at the world and fear not man nor devil. +</P> + +<P> +Tonald finished with a leap as nimble as that with which a cat springs +on its victim while the company watched spellbound. He slipped away +into a corner and would dance no more that night. +</P> + +<P> +When twelve o'clock came, the dancing was over, and with the smell of +coffee and the rattle of dishes in the kitchen it was not hard to +persuade big John Kennedy to sing. +</P> + +<P> +Big John lived alone in a little shanty in the hills, and the prospect +of a good square meal was a pleasant one to the lonely fellow who had +been his own cook so long. Big John lived among the Crofters, whose +methods of cooking were simple in the extreme, and from them he had +picked up strange ways of housekeeping. He ate out of the frying pan; +he milked the cow in the porridge pot, and only took what he needed for +each meal, reasoning that she had a better way of keeping it than he +had. Big John had departed almost entirely from "white man's ways," and +lived a wild life free from the demands of society. His ability to +"call off" at dances was the one tie that bound him to the Canadian +people on the plain. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I can't sing," John said sheepishly, when they urged him. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell us how it happened any way John," Bud Perkins said. "Give us the +story of it." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on John. Sing about the cowboy," Peter Slater coaxed. +</P> + +<P> +"It iss a teffle of a good song, that," chuckled Tonald. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," John began, clearing his throat, "here it's for you. I've +ruined me voice drivin' oxen though, but here's the song." +</P> + +<P> +It was a song of the plains, weird and wistful, with an uncouth +plaintiveness that fascinated these lonely hill-dwellers. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + As I was a-walkin' one beautiful morning,<BR> + As I was a-walkin' one morning in May,<BR> + I saw a poor cowboy rolled up in his blanket,<BR> + Rolled up in his blanket as cold as the clay!<BR> +</P> + +<P> +The listener would naturally suppose that the cowboy was dead in his +blanket that lovely May morning; but that idea had to be abandoned as +the song went on, because the cowboy was very much alive in the +succeeding verses, when— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Round the bar bummin' where bullets were hummin'<BR> + He snuffed out the candle to show why he come!<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Then his way of giving directions for his funeral was somewhat out of +the usual procedure but no one seemed to notice these little +discrepancies— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Beat the drum slowly boys, beat the drum lowly boys,<BR> + Beat the dead march as we hurry along.<BR> + To show that ye love me, boys, write up above me, boys,<BR> + "Here lies a poor cowboy who knows he done wrong."<BR> +</P> + +<P> +In accordance with a popular custom, John SPOKE the last two words in a +very slow and distinct voice. This was considered a very fine thing to +do—it served the purpose of the "Finis" at the end of the book, or the +"Let us pray," at the end of the sermon. +</P> + +<P> +The applause was very loud and very genuine. +</P> + +<P> +Bud Perkins, who was the wit of the Perkins family, and called by his +mother a "regular cut-up," was at last induced to sing. Bud's +"Come-all-ye" contained twenty-three verses, and in it was set forth +the wanderings of one, young Willie, who left his home and native land +at a very tender age, and "left a good home when he left." His mother +tied a kerchief of blue around his neck. "God bless you, son," she +said. "Remember I will watch for you, till life itself is fled!" The +song went on to tell how long the mother watched in vain. Young Willie +roamed afar, but after he had been scalped by savage bands and left for +dead upon the sands, and otherwise maltreated by the world at large, he +began to think of home, and after shipwrecks, and dangers and +hair-breadth escapes, he reached his mother's cottage door, from which +he had gone long years before. +</P> + +<P> +Then of course he tried to deceive his mother, after the manner of all +boys returning after a protracted absence— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Oh, can you tell me, ma'm, he said,<BR> + How far to Edinboro' town.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +But he could not fool his mother, no, no! She knew him by the kerchief +blue, still tied around his neck. +</P> + +<P> +When the applause, which was very generous, had been given, Jim Russell +wanted to know how young Willie got his neck washed in all his long +meanderings, or if he did not wash, how did he dodge the health +officers. +</P> + +<P> +George Slater gravely suggested that perhaps young Willie used a +dry-cleaning process—French chalk or brown paper and a hot iron. +</P> + +<P> +Peter Slater said he did not believe it was the same handkerchief at +all. No handkerchief could stand the pace young Willie went. It was +another one very like the one he had started off with. He noticed them +in the window as he passed, that day, going cheap for cash. +</P> + +<P> +The young Englishman looked more and more puzzled. It was strange how +Canadians took things. He turned to Camilla. +</P> + +<P> +"It is only a song, don't you know," he said with a distressed look. +"It is really impossible to say how he had the kerchief still tied +around his neck." +</P> + +<P> +The evening would not have been complete without a song from Billy +McLean. Little Billy was a consumptive, playing a losing game against a +relentless foe; but playing like a man with unfailing cheerfulness, and +eyes that smiled ever. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + There is a bright ship on the ocean,<BR> + Bedecked in silver and gold;<BR> + They say that my Willie is sailing,<BR> + Yes, sailing afar I am told,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +was little Billy's song, known and loved in many a thresher's caboose, +but heard no more for many a long day, for little Billy gave up the +struggle the next spring when the snow was leaving the fields and the +trickle of water was heard in the air. But he and his songs are still +lovingly remembered by the boys who "follow the mill," when their +thoughts run upon old times. +</P> + +<P> +Peter and Fred Slater came in with the coffee. Jim Russell with a white +apron around his neck followed with a basket of sandwiches, and Tom +Motherwell with a heaping plate of cake. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you make this cake, Nell?" Tom whispered to Nellie in the pantry +as she filled the plate for him. +</P> + +<P> +"Me!" she laughed. "Bless you no! I can't make anything but pancakes." +</P> + +<P> +Martha Perkins still sat by the window. She looked older and more +careworn—she was thinking of how late it was getting. Martha could +make cakes, Tom knew that. Martha could do everything. +</P> + +<P> +"Go along Tom," Nellie was saying, "give a piece to big John. Don't you +see how hungry he looks." Their eyes met. Hers were bright and smiling. +He smiled back. +</P> + +<P> +Oh pshaw! pancakes are not so bad. +</P> + +<P> +Jim Russell whispered to Camilla, as he passed near where she and +Arthur sat, "Will you please come and help Nellie in the pantry? We +need you badly." +</P> + +<P> +Camilla called Maud Murray to take her seat. She knew Maud would be +kind to the young Englishman. +</P> + +<P> +When Camilla reached the pantry she found Nellie and Tom Motherwell +happily engaged in eating lemon tarts, and evidently not needing her at +all. Jim was ready with an explanation. "I was thinking of poor Thursa, +far across the sea," he said, "what a shock it would be to her if +Arthur was compelled to write home that he had changed his mind," and +Camilla did not look nearly so angry as she should have, either. +</P> + +<P> +After supper there was another song from Arthur Wemyss, the young +Englishman. He played his own accompaniment, his fingers, stiffened +though they were with hard work, ran lightly over the keys. Every +person sat still to listen. Even Martha Perkins forgot to twirl her +fingers and leaned forward. It was a simple little English ballad he +sang: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Where'er I wander over land or foam,<BR> + There is a place so dear the heart calls home.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps it was because the ocean rolled between him and his home that +he sang with such a wistful longing in his voice, that even his dullest +listener felt the heart-cry in it. It was a song of one who reaches +longing arms across the sea to the old home and the old friends, whom +he sees only in his dreams. +</P> + +<P> +In the silence that followed the song, his fingers unconsciously began +to play Mendelssohn's beautiful air, "We Would See Jesus, for the +Shadows Lengthen." Closely linked with the young man's love of home was +his religious devotion. The quiet Sabbath morning with its silvery +chimes calling men to prayer; the soft footfalls in the aisle; the +white-robed choir, his father's voice in the church service, so full of +divine significance; the many-voiced responses and the swelling notes +of the "Te Deum"—he missed it so. All the longing for the life he had +left, all the spiritual hunger and thirst that was in his heart sobbed +in his voice as he sang: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + We would see Jesus,<BR> + For the shadows lengthen<BR> + O'er this little landscape of our life.<BR> + We would see Jesus,<BR> + Our weak faith to strengthen,<BR> + For the last weariness, the final strife.<BR> + We would see Jesus, other lights are paling,<BR> + Which for long years we have rejoiced to see,<BR> + The blessings of our pilgrimage are failing,<BR> + We would not mourn them for we go to Thee.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +He sang on with growing tenderness through all that divinely tender +hymn, and the longing of it, the prayer of it was not his alone, but +arose from every heart that listened. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps they were in a responsive mood, easily swayed by emotion. +Perhaps that is why there was in every heart that listened a desire to +be good and follow righteousness, a reaching up of feeble hands to God. +The Reverend Hugh Grantley would have said that it was the Spirit of +God that stands at the door of every man's heart and knocks. +</P> + +<P> +The young man left the organ, and the company broke up soon after. +Before they parted, Mr. Slater in whom the Englishman's singing had +revived the spiritual hunger of his Methodist heart, requested them to +sing "God be with you till we meet again." Every one stood up and +joined hands. Martha, with her thoughts on the butter and eggs; Tonald +McKenzie and big John with the vision of their lonely dwellings in the +hills looming over them; Jim and Camilla; Tom and Nellie, hand in hand; +little Billy, face to face with the long struggle and its certain +ending. Little Billy's voice rang sweet and clear above the others— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + God be with you till we meet again,<BR> + Keep love's banner floating o'er you,<BR> + Smite death's threatening wave before you;<BR> + God be with you till we meet again!<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PEARL'S DIARY +</H3> + +<P> +When Pearl got Tom safely started for the party a great weight seemed +to have rolled from her little shoulders. Tom was going to spend the +night—what was left of it—with Arthur in the granary, and so avoid +the danger of disturbing his parents by his late home-coming. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl was too excited to sleep, so she brought out from her bird-cage +the little note-book that Mrs. Francis had given her, and endeavoured +to fill some of its pages with her observations. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis had told her to write what she felt and what she saw. +</P> + +<P> +She had written: +</P> + +<P> +August 8th.—I picked the fethers from 2 ducks to-day. I call them +cusmoodles. I got that name in a book. The cusmoodles were just full of +cheety-wow-wows. That's a pretty name, too, I think. I got that out of +my own head. The cheety-wow-wows are wanderers to-night, I guess. They +lost their feather-bed. +</P> + +<P> +Arthur's got a girl. Her name is Thursa. He tells me about her, and +showed me her picter. She is beautiful beyond compare, and awful savin' +on her clothes. At first I thought she had a die-away-ducky look, but I +guess it's because she was sorry Arthur was comin' away. +</P> + +<P> +August 9th.—Mrs. Motherwell is gittin' kinder, I think. When I was +gittin' the tub for Arthur yesterday, and gittin' water het, she said, +"What are you doin', Pearl?" I says, "gittin' Arthur a bath." She says, +"Dear me, it's a pity about him." I says, "Yes'm, but he'll feel better +now." She says, "Duz he want anyone to wash his back?"—I says, "I +don't know, but I'll ask him," and I did, too; but he says, "No, thanks +awfully." +</P> + +<P> +August 10th.—The English Church minister called one day to see Arthur. +He read some of the Bible to us and then he gave us a dandy prayer. He +didn't make it—it was a bot one. +</P> + +<P> +There's wild parsley down on the crik. Mrs. M. sed't wuz poison, but I +wanted to be sure, so I et it, and it isn't. There's wild sage all +over, purple an lovely. I pickt a big lot ov it, to taik home—we mite +have a turkey this winter. +</P> + +<P> +August 11th.—I hope tom's happy; it's offel to be in love. I hope I'll +never be. +</P> + +<P> +My hands are pretty sore pullin' weeds, but I like it; I pertend it's +bad habits I'm rootin' out. +</P> + +<P> +Arthur's offel good: he duz all the work he can for me, and he sings +for me and tells me about his uncle the Bishop. His uncle's got +servants and leggin's and lots of things. Arthur's been kind of sick +lately. +</P> + +<P> +I made verses one day, there not very nice, but there true—I saw it: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + The little lams are beautiful,<BR> + There cotes are soft and nice,<BR> + The little calves have ringworm,<BR> + And the 2-year olds have lice!<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Now I'm going' to make more; it seems to bad to leve it like that. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + It must be very nasty,<BR> + But to worrie, what's the use;<BR> + Better be cam and cheerfull,<BR> + And appli tobaka jooce.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes I feal like gittin' lonesum but I jist keep puttin' it of. I +say to myself I won't git lonesum till I git this cow milked, and then +I say o shaw I might as well do another, and then I say I won't git +lonesum till I git the pails washed and the flore scrubbed, and I keep +settin' it of and settin' it of till I forgit I was goin' to be. +</P> + +<P> +One day I wuz jist gittin' reddy to cry. I could feel tears startin' in +my hart, and my throte all hot and lumpy, thinkin' of ma and Danny an' +all of them, and I noticed the teakettle just in time—it neaded +skourin'. You bet I put a shine on it, and, of course, I couldn't dab +tears on it and muss it up, so I had to wait. Mrs. M. duzn't talk to +me. She has a morgage or a cancer I think botherin' her. Ma knowed a +woman once, and everybuddy thot she was terrible cross cos she wouldn't +talk at all hardly and when she died, they found she'd a tumult in her +insides, and then you bet they felt good and sorry, when we're cross at +home ma says it's not the strap we need, but a good dose of kastor oil +or Seany and we git it too. +</P> + +<P> +I gess I got Bugsey's and Patsey's bed paid fer now. Now I'll do +Teddy's and Jimmy's. This ain't a blot it's the liniment Mrs. McGuire +gave me. I have it on me hands. +</P> + +<P> +I'm gittin on to be therteen soon. 13 is pretty old I gess. I'll soon +turn the corner now and be lookin' 20 square in the face—I'll never be +homesick then. I ain't lonesome now either—it's just sleep that's in +my eyes smuggin them up. +</P> + +<P> +Jim Russell is offel good to go to town he doesn't seem to mind it a +bit. Once I said I wisht I'd told Camilla to remind Jimmy to spit on +his warts every day—he's offell careless, and Jim said he'd tell +Camilla, and he often asks me if I want to tell Camilla anything, and +it's away out of his rode to go round to Mrs. Francis house too. I like +Jim you bet. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TOM'S NEW VIEWPOINT +</H3> + +<P> +Pearl was quite disappointed in Tom's appearance the morning after the +party. Egbert always wore a glorified countenance after he had seen +Edythe; but Tom looked sleepy and somewhat cross. +</P> + +<P> +He went to his work discontentedly. His mother's moroseness annoyed +him. His father's hard face had never looked so forbidding to him as it +did that morning. Mrs. Slater's hearty welcome, her good-natured +motherly smiles, Mr. Slater's genial and kindly ways, contrasted +sharply with his own home life, and it rankled in him. +</P> + +<P> +"It's dead easy for them Slater boys to be smart and good, too," he +thought bitterly; "they are brought right up to it. They may not have +much money, but look at the fun they have. George and Fred will be off +to college soon, and it must be fun in the city,—they're dressed up +all the time, ridin' round on street cars, and with no chores to do." +</P> + +<P> +The trees on the poplar bluff where he had made his toilet the evening +before were beginning to show the approach of autumn, although there +had been no frost. Pale yellow and rust coloured against the green of +their hardier neighbours, they rippled their coin-like leaves in glad +good-will as he drove past them on his way to the hayfield. +</P> + +<P> +The sun had risen red and angry, giving to every cloud in the sky a +facing of gold, and long streamers shot up into the blue of the +mid-heaven. +</P> + +<P> +There is no hour of the day so hushed and beautiful as the early +morning, when the day is young, fresh from the hand of God. It is a new +page, clean and white and pure, and the angel is saying unto us +"Write!" and none there be who may refuse to obey. It may be gracious +deeds and kindly words that we write upon it in letters of gold, or it +may be that we blot and blur it with evil thoughts and stain it with +unworthy actions, but write we must! +</P> + +<P> +The demon of discontent laid hold on Tom that morning as he worked in +the hayfield. New forces were at work in the boy's heart, forces mighty +for good or evil. +</P> + +<P> +A great disgust for his surrounding filled him. He could see from where +he worked the big stone house, bare and gray. It was a place to eat in, +a place to sleep in, the same as a prison. He had never known any real +enjoyment there. He knew it would all be his some day, and he tried to +feel the pride of possession, but he could not—he hated it. +</P> + +<P> +He saw around him everywhere the abundance of harvest—the grain that +meant money. Money! It was the greatest thing in the world. He had been +taught to chase after it—to grasp it—then hide it, and chase again +after more. His father put money in the bank every year, and never saw +it again. When money was banked it had fulfilled its highest mission. +Then they drew that wonderful thing called interest, money without +work—and banked it—Oh, it was a great game! +</P> + +<P> +It was the first glimmerings of manhood that was stirring in Tom's +heart that morning, the new independence, the new individualism. +</P> + +<P> +Before this he had accepted everything his father and mother had said +or done without question. Only once before had he doubted them. It was +several years before. A man named Skinner had bought from Tom's father +the quarter section that Jim Russell now farmed, paying down a +considerable sum of money, but evil days fell upon the man and his +wife; sickness, discouragement, and then, the man began to drink. He +was unable to keep up his payments and Tom's father had foreclosed the +mortgage. Tom remembered the day the Skinners had left their farm, the +woman was packing their goods into a box. She was a faded woman in a +faded wrapper, and her tears were falling as she worked. Tom saw her +tears falling, and he had told her with the awful cruelty of a child +that it was their own fault that they had lost the farm. The woman had +shrunk back as if he had struck her and cried "Oh, no! No! Tom, don't +say that, child, you don't know what you say," then putting her hands +on his shoulders she had looked straight into his face—he remembered +that she had lost some teeth in front, and that her eyes were sweet and +kind. "Some day, dear," she said, "when you are a man, you will +remember with shame and sorrow that you once spoke hard to a +broken-hearted, homeless woman." Tom had gone home wondering and +vaguely unhappy, and could not eat his supper that night. +</P> + +<P> +He remembered it all now, remembered it with a start, and with a sudden +tightening of his heart that burned and chilled him. The hot blood +rushed into his head and throbbed painfully. +</P> + +<P> +He looked at the young Englishman who was loading the hay on the rack, +with a sudden impulse. But Arthur was wrapped in his own mask of +insular reserve, and so saw nothing of the storm that was sweeping over +the boy's soul. +</P> + +<P> +Then the very spirit of evil laid hold on Tom. When the powers of good +are present in the heart, and can find no outlet in action, they turn +to evil. Tom had the desire to be kind and generous; ambition was +stirring in him. His sullenness and discontent were but the outward +signs of the inward ferment. He could not put into action the powers +for good without breaking away, in a measure at least, from his father +and mother. +</P> + +<P> +He felt that he had to do something. He was hungry for the society of +other young people like himself. He wanted life and action and +excitement. +</P> + +<P> +There is one place where a young man can always go and find life and +gaiety and good-fellowship. One door stands invitingly open to all. +When the church of God is cold and dark and silent, and the homes of +Christ's followers are closed except to the chosen few, the bar-room +throws out its evil welcome to the young man on the street. +</P> + +<P> +Tom had never heard any argument against intemperance, only that it was +expensive. Now he hated all the petty meanness that he had been so +carefully taught. +</P> + +<P> +The first evening that Tom went into the bar-room of the Millford hotel +he was given a royal welcome. They were a jolly crowd! They knew how to +enjoy life, Tom told himself. What's the good of money if you can't +have a little fun with it? +</P> + +<P> +Tom had never had much money of his own, he had never needed it or +thought anything about it. Now the injustice of it rankled in him. He +had to have money. It was his. He worked for it. He would just take it, +and then if it was missed he would tell his father and mother that he +had taken it—taking your own is not stealing—and he would tell them +so and have it out with them. +</P> + +<P> +Thus the enemy sowed the tares. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A CRACK IN THE GRANITE +</H3> + +<P> +While Pearl was writing her experiences in her little red book, Mr. and +Mrs. Motherwell were in the kitchen below reading a letter which Mr. +Motherwell had just brought from the post office. It read as follows: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +BRANDON HOSPITAL, August 10th. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Dear Mr. and Mrs. Motherwell: I know it will be at least some slight +comfort for you to know that the poppies you sent Polly reached her in +time to be the very greatest comfort to her. Her joy at seeing them and +holding them in her hands would have been your reward if you could have +seen it, and although she had been delirious up to that time for +several days, the sight of the poppies seemed to call her mind back. +She died very peacefully and happily at daybreak this morning. She was +a sweet and lovable girl and we had all grown very fond of her, as I am +sure you did, too. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +May God abundantly bless you, dear Mr. and Mrs. Motherwell, for your +kind thoughtfulness to this poor lonely girl. "Inasmuch as ye have done +it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto Me." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Yours cordially, +<BR> +(Nurse) AGNES HUNT. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"By Jinks." +</P> + +<P> +Sam Motherwell took the letter from his wife's hand and excitedly read +it over to himself, going over each word with his blunt forefinger. He +turned it over and examined the seal, he looked at the stamp and inside +of the envelope, and failing to find any clue to the mystery he +ejaculated again: +</P> + +<P> +"By Jinks! What the deuce is this about poppies. Is that them things +she sowed out there?" +</P> + +<P> +His wife nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, who do you suppose sent them? Who would ever think of sending +them?" +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell made no reply. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a blamed nice letter anyway," he said, looking it over again, "I +guess Polly didn't give us a hard name to them up there in the +'ospital, or we wouldn't ha' got a letter like this; and poor Polly's +dead. Well, she was a kind of a good-natured, willin' thing too, and +not too slow either." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell was still silent. She had not thought that Polly would +die, she had always had great faith in the vitality of English people. +"You can't kill them," she had often said; but now Polly was dead. She +was sick, then, when she went around the house so strangely silent and +flushed. Mrs. Motherwell's memory went back with cruel +distinctness—she had said things to Polly then that stung her now with +a remorse that was new and terrible, and Polly had looked at her dazed +and wondering, her big eyes flushed and pleading. Mrs. Motherwell +remembered now that she had seen that look once before. She had helped +Sam to kill a lamb once, and it came back to her now, how through it +all, until the blow fell, the lamb had stood wondering, pleading, yet +unflinching, and she had run sobbing away—and now Polly was dead—and +those big eyes she had so often seen tearful, yet smiling, were closed +and their tears forever wiped away. +</P> + +<P> +That night she dreamed of Polly, confused, troubled dreams; now it was +Polly's mother who was dead, then it was her own mother, dead thirty +years ago. Once she started violently and sat up. Someone had been +singing—the echo of it was still in the room: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Over my grave keep the green willers growing.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +The yellow harvest moon flooded the room with its soft light. She could +see through the window how it lay like a mantle on the silent fields. +It was one of those glorious, cloudless nights, with a hint of frost in +the air that come just as the grain is ripening. From some place down +the creek a dog barked; once in a while a cow-bell tinkled: a horse +stamped in the stable and then all was still. Numberless stars shone +through the window. The mystery of life and death and growing things +was around her. As for man his days are as grass; as a flower of the +field so he flourisheth—for it is soon cut off and we fly away—fly +away where?—where?—her head throbbed with the question. +</P> + +<P> +The eastern sky flushed red with morning; a little ripple came over the +grain. She watched it listlessly. Polly had died at daybreak—didn't +the letter say? Just like that, the light rising redder and redder, the +stars disappearing, she wondered dully to herself how often she would +see the light coming, like this, and yet, and yet, some time would be +the last, and then what? +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + We shall be where suns are not,<BR> + A far serener clime.<BR> +</P> + +<P> +came to her memory she knew not from whence. But she shuddered at it. +Polly's eyes, dazed, pleading like the lamb's, rose before her; or was +it that Other Face, tender, thorn-crowned, that had been looking upon +her in love all these long years! +</P> + +<P> +She spoke so kindly to Pearl when she went into the kitchen that the +little girl looked up apprehensively. +</P> + +<P> +"Are ye not well, ma'am?" she asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"I did not sleep very well," she said, at last. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the mortgage," Pearl thought to herself. +</P> + +<P> +"And when I did sleep, I had such dreadful dreams," Mrs. Motherwell +went on, strangely communicative. +</P> + +<P> +"That looks more like the cancer," Pearl thought as she stirred the +porridge. +</P> + +<P> +"We got bad news," Mrs. Motherwell said. "Polly is dead." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl stopped stirring the porridge. +</P> + +<P> +"When did she die," she asked eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"The morning before yesterday morning, about daylight." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl made a rapid calculation. "Oh good!" she cried, +"goody—goody—goody! They were in time." +</P> + +<P> +She saw her mistake in a moment, and hastily put her hand over her +mouth as if to prevent the unruly member from further indiscretions. +She stirred the porridge vigorously, while her cheeks burned. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, they were," Mrs. Motherwell said quietly. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl set the porridge on the back of the stove and ran out to where +the poppies nodded gaily. Never before had they seemed so beautiful. +Mrs. Motherwell watched her through the window bending over them. +Something about the poppies appealed to her now. She had once wanted +Tom to cut them down, and she thought of it now. +</P> + +<P> +She tapped on the window. Pearl looked up, startled. +</P> + +<P> +"Bring in some," she called. +</P> + +<P> +When the work was done for the morning, Mrs. Motherwell went up the +narrow stair way to the little room over the kitchen to gather together +Polly's things. +</P> + +<P> +She sat on Polly's little straw bed and looked at the dismal little +room. Pearl had done what she could to brighten it. The old bags and +baskets had been neatly piled in one corner, and quilts had been spread +over them to hide their ugliness from view. The wind blew gently in the +window that the hail had broken. The floor had been scrubbed clean and +white—the window, what was left of it—was shining. +</P> + +<P> +She was reminded of Polly everywhere she looked. The mat under her feet +was one that Polly had braided. A corduroy blouse hung at the foot of +the bed. She remembered now that Polly had worn it the day she came. +</P> + +<P> +In a little yellow tin box she found Polly's letters—the letters that +had given her such extravagant joy. She could see her yet, how eagerly +she would seize them and rush up to this little room with them, +transfigured. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell would have to look at them to find out Polly's mother's +address. She took out the first letter slowly, then hurriedly put it +back again in the envelope and looked guiltily around the room. But it +had to be done. She took it out again resolutely, and read it with some +difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +It was written in a straggling hand that wandered uncertainly over the +lines. It was a pitiful letter telling of poverty bitter and grinding, +but redeemed from utter misery by a love and faith that shone from +every line: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + My dearest polly i am glad you like your plice and + your misses is so kind as wot you si, yur letters are + my kumfit di an nit. bill is a ard man and says hif + the money don't cum i will ave to go to the workus. + but i no you will send it der polly so hi can old my + little plice hi got a start todi a hoffcer past hi + that it wos the workhus hoffcer. bill ses he told im + to cum hif hi cant pi by septmbr but hi am trustin + God der polly e asn't forgot us. hi 'm glad the poppies + grew. ere's a disy hi am sendin yu hi can mike the + butonoles yet. hi do sum hevry di mrs purdy gave me + fourpence one di for sum i mide for her hi ad a cup + of tee that di. hi am appy thinkin of yu der polly. +</P> + +<P> +"And Polly is dead!" burst from Mrs. Motherwell as something gathered +in her throat. She laid the letter down and looked straight ahead of +her. +</P> + +<P> +The sloping walls of the little kitchen loft, with its cobwebbed beams +faded away, and she was looking into a squalid little room where an old +woman, bent and feeble, sat working buttonholes with trembling fingers. +Her eyes were restless and expectant; she listened eagerly to every +sound. A step is at the door, a hand is on the latch. The old woman +rises uncertainly, a great hope in her eyes—it is the letter—the +letter at last. The door opens, and the old woman falls cowering and +moaning, and wringing her hands before the man who enters. It is the +officer! +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell buried her face in her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh God be merciful, be merciful," she sobbed. +</P> + +<P> +Sam Motherwell, knowing nothing of the storm that was passing through +his wife's mind, was out in the machine house tightening up the screws +and bolts in the binders, getting ready for the harvest. The barley was +whitening already. +</P> + +<P> +The nurse's letter had disturbed him. He tried to laugh at himself—the +idea of his boxing up those weeds to send to anybody. Still the nurse +had said how pleased Polly was. By George, it is strange what will +please people. He remembered when he went down to Indiana buying +horses, how tired he got of the look of corn-fields, and how the sight +of the first decent sized wheat field just went to his heart, when he +was coming back. Someway he could not laugh at anything that morning, +for Polly was dead. And Polly was a willing thing for sure; he seemed +to see her yet, how she ran after the colt the day it broke out of the +pasture, and when the men were away she would hitch up a horse for him +as quick as anybody. +</P> + +<P> +"I kind o' wish now that I had given her something—it would have +pleased her so—some little thing," he added hastily. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell came across the yard bareheaded. +</P> + +<P> +"Come into the house, Sam," she said gently. "I want to show you +something." +</P> + +<P> +He looked up quickly, but saw something in his wife's face that +prevented him from speaking. +</P> + +<P> +He followed her into the house. The letters were on the table, Mrs. +Motherwell read them to him, read them with tears that almost choked +her utterance. +</P> + +<P> +"And Polly's dead, Sam!" she cried when she had finished the last one. +"Polly's dead, and the poor old mother will be looking, looking for +that money, and it will never come. Sam, can't we save that poor old +woman from the poorhouse? Do you remember what the girl said in the +letter, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my little +ones, ye have done it unto Me?' We didn't deserve the praise the girl +gave us. We didn't send the flowers, we have never done anything for +anybody and we have plenty, plenty, and what is the good of it, Sam? +We'll die some day and leave it all behind us." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell hid her face in her apron, trembling with excitement. +Sam's face was immovable, but a mysterious Something, not of earth, was +struggling with him. Was it the faith of that decrepit old woman in +that bare little room across the sea, mumbling to herself that God had +not forgotten? God knows. His ear is not dulled; His arm is not +shortened; His holy spirit moves mightily. +</P> + +<P> +Sam Motherwell stood up and struck the table with his fist. +</P> + +<P> +"Ettie," he said, "I am a hard man, a danged hard man, and as you say +I've never given away much, but I am not so low down yet that I have to +reach up to touch bottom, and the old woman will not go to the poor +house if I have money enough to keep her out!" +</P> + +<P> +Sam Motherwell was as good as his word. +</P> + +<P> +He went to Winnipeg the next day, but before he left he drew a check +for one hundred dollars, payable to Polly's mother, which he gave to +the Church of England clergyman to send for him. About two months +afterwards he received a letter from the clergyman of the parish in +which Polly's mother lived, telling him that the money had reached the +old lady in time to save her from the workhouse; a heart-broken letter +of thanks from Polly's mother herself accompanied it, calling on God to +reward them for their kindness to her and her dear dead girl. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SHADOWS +</H3> + +<P> +One morning when Tom came into the kitchen Pearl looked up with a +worried look on her usually bright little face. +</P> + +<P> +"What's up, kid?" he asked kindly. He did not like to see Pearl looking +troubled. +</P> + +<P> +"Arthur's sick," she said gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on!" he answered, "he's not sick. I know he's been feeling kind of +used up for about a week, but he worked as well as ever yesterday. What +makes you think he is sick?" +</P> + +<P> +"I went out last night to be sure I had shut the henhouse door, and I +heard him groanin', and I said, knockin' on the door, 'What's wrong, +Arthur?' and he said, 'Oh, I beg your pardon, Pearl, did I frighten +you?' and I said, 'No, but what's wrong?' and he said, 'Nothing at all, +Pearl, thank you'; but I know there is. You know how polite he +is—wouldn't trouble anybody. Wouldn't ask ye to slap 'im on the back +if he was chokin'. I went out two or three times and once I brought him +out some liniment, and he told me every time he would be 'well +directly,' but I don't believe him. If Arthur groans there's something +to groan for, you bet." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe he's in love," Tom said sheepishly. +</P> + +<P> +"But you don't groan, Tom, do you?" she asked seriously. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe I ain't in love, though, Pearl. Ask Jim Russell, he can tell +you." +</P> + +<P> +"Jim ain't in love, is he?" Pearl asked anxiously. Her responsibilities +were growing too fast. One love affair and a sick man she felt was all +she could attend to. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, why do you suppose Jim comes over here every second day to get +you to write a note to that friend of yours?" +</P> + +<P> +"Camilla?" Pearl asked open-mouthed. Tom nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Camilla can't leave Mrs. Francis," Pearl declared with conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"Jim's a dandy smart fellow. He only stays on the farm in the summer. +In the winter he book-keeps for three or four of the stores in Millford +and earns lots of money," Tom said, admiringly. +</P> + +<P> +After a pause Pearl said thoughtfully, "I love Camilla!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's just the way Jim feels, too, I guess," Tom said laughing as he +went out to the stable. +</P> + +<P> +When Tom went out to the granary he found Arthur dressing, but flushed +and looking rather unsteady. +</P> + +<P> +"What's gone wrong with you, old man?" he asked kindly. +</P> + +<P> +"I feel a bit queer," Arthur replied, "that's all. I shall be well +directly. Got a bit of a cold, I think." +</P> + +<P> +"Slept in a field with the gate open like as not," Tom laughed. +</P> + +<P> +Arthur looked at him inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll feel better when you get your breakfast," Tom went on. "I don't +wonder you're sick—you haven't been eatin' enough to keep a canary +bird alive. Go on right into the house now. I'll feed your team." +</P> + +<P> +"It beats all what happens to our help," Mrs. Motherwell complained to +Pearl, as they washed the breakfast dishes. "It looks very much as if +Arthur is goin' to be laid up, too, and the busy time just on us." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl was troubled. Why should Arthur be sick? He had plenty of fresh +air; he tubbed himself regularly. He never drank "alcoholic beverages +that act directly on the liver and stomach, drying up the blood, and +rendering every organ unfit for work." Pearl remembered the Band of +Hope manual. No, and it was not a cold. Colds do not make people groan +in the night—it was something else. Pearl wished her friend, Dr. Clay, +would come along. He would soon spot the trouble. +</P> + +<P> +After dinner, of which Arthur ate scarcely a mouthful, as Pearl was +cleaning the knives, Mrs. Motherwell came into the kitchen with a hard +look on her face. She had just missed a two-dollar bill from her +satchel. +</P> + +<P> +"Pearl," she said in a strained voice, "did you see a two-dollar bill +any place?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, ma'am," Pearl answered quickly, "Mrs Francis paid ma with one +once for the washing, but I don't know where it might be now." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell looked at Pearl keenly. It was not easy to believe that +that little girl would steal. Her heart was still tender after Polly's +death, she did not want to be hard on Pearl, but the money must be some +place. +</P> + +<P> +"Pearl, I have lost a two-dollar bill. If you know anything about it I +want you to tell me," she said firmly. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know anything about it no more'n ye say ye had it and now +ye've lost it," Pearl answered calmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Go up to your room and think about it," she said, avoiding Pearl's +gaze. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl went up the narrow little steps with a heart that swelled with +indignation. +</P> + +<P> +"Does she think I stole her dirty money, me that has money o' me own—a +thief is it she takes me for? Oh, wirra! wirra! and her an' me wuz +gittin' on so fine, too; and like as not this'll start the morgage and +the cancer on her again." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl threw herself on the hot little bed, and sobbed out her +indignation and her homesickness. She could not put it off this time. +Catching sight of her grief-stricken face in the cracked looking glass +that hung at the head of the bed, she started up suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +"What am I bleatin' for?" she said to herself, wiping her eyes on her +little patched apron. "Ye'd think to look at me that I'd been caught +stealin' the cat's milk"—she laughed through her tears—"I haven't +stolen anything and what for need I cry? The dear Lord will get me out +of this just as nate as He bruk the windy for me!" +</P> + +<P> +She took her knitting out of the bird-cage and began to knit at full +speed. +</P> + +<P> +"Danny me man, it is a good thing for ye that the shaddah of suspicion +is on yer sister Pearlie this day, for it gives her a good chance to +turn yer heel. 'Sowin' in the sunshine, sowin' in the shaddah,' only +it's knittin' I am instead of sewin', but it's all wan, I guess. I mind +how Paul and Silas were singin' in the prison at midnight. I know how +they felt. 'Do what Ye like, Lord,' they wur thinkin'. 'If it's in jail +Ye want us to stay, we're Yer men.'" +</P> + +<P> +Pearl knit a few minutes in silence. Then she knelt beside the bed. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Lord," she prayed, clasping her work-worn hands, "help her to +find her money, but if anyone did steal it, give him the strength to +confess it, dear Lord. Amen." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell, downstairs, was having a worse time than Pearl. She +could not make herself believe that Pearl had stolen the money, and yet +no one had had a chance to take it except Pearl, or Tom, and that, of +course, was absurd. She went again to have a look in every drawer in +her room, and as she passed through the hall she detected a strange +odour. She soon traced it to Tom's light overcoat which hung there. +What was the smell? It was tobacco, and something more. It was the +smell of a bar-room! +</P> + +<P> +She sat down upon the step with a nameless dread in her heart. Tom had +gone to Millford several times since his father had gone to Winnipeg, +and he had stayed longer than was necessary, too; but no, no. Tom would +not spend good money that way. The habit of years was on her. It was +the money she thought of first. +</P> + +<P> +Then she thought of Pearl. +</P> + +<P> +Going to the foot of the stairway she called: +</P> + +<P> +"Pearl, you may come down now." +</P> + +<P> +"Did ye find it?" Pearl asked eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Do ye still think I took it?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I don't, Pearl," she answered. +</P> + +<P> +"All right then, I'll come right down," Pearl said gladly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SAVED! +</H3> + +<P> +That night Arthur's condition was, to Pearl's sharp eyes, alarming. +</P> + +<P> +He tried to quiet her fears. He would be well directly, it was nothing, +nothing at all, a mere indisposition (Pearl didn't know what that was); +but when she went into the granary with a pitcher of water for him, and +found him writing letters in the feeble light of a lantern, she took +one look at him, laid down the pitcher and hurried out to tell Tom. +</P> + +<P> +Tom was in the kitchen taking off his boots preparatory to going to bed. +</P> + +<P> +"Tom," she said excitedly, "get back into yer boots, and go for the +doctor. Arthur's got the thing that Pa had, and it'll have to be cut +out of him or he'll die." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" Tom gasped, with one foot across his knee. +</P> + +<P> +"I think he has it," Pearl said, "he's actin' just like what Pa did, +and he's in awful pain, I know, only he won't let on; and we must get +the doctor or he might die before mornin', and then how'd we feel?" +</P> + +<P> +Tom hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Remember, Tom, he has a father and a mother and four brothers, and a +girl called Thursa, and an uncle that is a bishop, and how'd we ever +face them when we go to heaven if we just set around and let Arthur +die?" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Pearl?" Mrs. Motherwell said coming into the room, having +heard Pearl's excited tones. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Arthur, ma'am. Come out and see him. You'll see he needs the +doctor. Ginger tea and mustard plasters ain't a flea-bite on a pain +like what he has." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's give him a dose of aconite," Tom said with conviction; "that'll +fix him." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell and Pearl went over to the granary. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't knock at the door," Pearl whispered to her as they went. "Ye +can't tell a thing about him if ye do. Arthur'd straighten up and be +polite at his own funeral. Just look in the crack there and you'll see +if he ain't sick." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell did see. Arthur lay tossing and moaning across his bed, +his letter pad and pencil beside him on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell did not want Tom to go to Millford that night. One of +the harvesters' excursions was expected—was probably in—then—there +would be a wild time. Besides, the two-dollar bill still worried her. +If Tom had it he might spend it. No, Tom was safer at home. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't think he's so very bad," she said. "We'll get the doctor +in the morning if he isn't any better. Now you go to bed, Pearl, and +don't worry yourself." +</P> + +<P> +But Pearl did not go to bed. +</P> + +<P> +When Mrs. Motherwell and Tom had gone to their own rooms, she built up +the kitchen fire, and heated a frying-pan full of salt, with which she +filled a pair of her own stockings and brought them to Arthur. She +remembered that her mother had done that when her father was sick, and +that it had eased his pain. She drew a pail of fresh water from the +well, and brought a basinful to him, and bathed his burning face and +hands. Arthur received her attentions gratefully. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl knew what she would do. She would run over and tell Jim, and Jim +would go for the doctor. Jim would not be in bed yet, she knew, and +even if he were, he would not mind getting up. +</P> + +<P> +Jim would go to town any time she wanted anything. One time when she +had said she just wished she knew whether Camilla had her new suit made +yet, Jim jumped right up and said he'd go and see. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell had gone to her room very much concerned with her own +troubles. Why should Tom fall into evil ways? she asked herself—a boy +who had been as economically brought up as he was. Other people's boys +had gone wrong, but she had alway thought that the parents were to +blame some way. Then she thought of Arthur; perhaps he should have the +doctor. She had been slow to believe that Polly was really sick—and +had had cause for regret. She would send for the doctor, in the +morning. But what was Pearl doing so long in the kitchen?—She could +hear her moving around—Pearl must go to her bed, or she would not be +able to get up in the morning. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl was just going out of the kitchen with her hat and coat on when +Mrs. Motherwell came in. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you going, Pearl," she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"To git someone to go for the doctor," Pearl answered stoutly. +</P> + +<P> +"Is he worse?" Mrs. Motherwell asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"He can't git worse," Pearl replied grimly. "If he gits worse he'll be +dead." +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell called Tom at once, and told him to bring the doctor as +soon as he could. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's my overcoat mother?" Tom called from the hall. +</P> + +<P> +"Take your father's" she said, "he is going to get a new one while he +is in Winnipeg, that one's too small for him now. I put yours outside +to air. It had a queer smell on it I thought, and now hurry, Tom. Bring +Dr. Barner. I think he's the best for a serious case. Dr. Clay is too +young, Anyway, the old man knowns far more than he does, if you can +only get him sober." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl's heart sank. +</P> + +<P> +"Arthur's as good as dead," she said as she went to the granary, crying +softly to herself. "Dr. Clay is the only man who could save him, and +they won't have him." +</P> + +<P> +The sun had gone down and heavy clouds filled the sky. Not a star was +to be seen, and the night was growing darker and darker. +</P> + +<P> +A sound of wheels came from across the creek, coming rapidly down the +road. The old dog barked viciously. A horse driven at full speed dashed +through the yard; Pearl ran shouting after, for even in the gathering +darkness she recognised the one person in all the world who could save +Arthur. But the wind and the barking of the dog drowned her voice, and +the sound of the doctor's wheels grew fainter in the distance. +</P> + +<P> +Only for a moment was Pearl dismayed. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll catch him coming back," she said, "if I have to tie binding twine +across the road to tangle up Pleurisy's long legs. He's on his way to +Cowan's, I know. Ab Cowan has quinsy. Never mind, Thursa, we'll get +him. I hope now that the old doctor is too full to come—oh, no I don't +either, I just hope he's away and Dr. Clay will have it done before he +gets here." +</P> + +<P> +When Tom arrived in Millford he found a great many people thronging the +streets. One of the Ontario's harvesters' excursions had arrived a few +hours before, and the "Huron and Bruce" boys were already making +themselves seen and heard. +</P> + +<P> +Tom went at once to Dr. Barner's office and found that the doctor was +out making calls, but would be back in an hour. Not at all displeased +at having some time to spend, Tom went back to the gaily lighted front +street. The crowds of men who went in and out of the hotels seemed to +promise some excitement. +</P> + +<P> +Inside of the Grand Pacific, a gramophone querulously sang "Any Rags, +Any Bones, Any Bottles To-day" to a delighted company of listeners. +</P> + +<P> +When Tom entered he was received with the greatest cordiality by the +bartender and others. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is life and good-fellowship," Tom thought to himself, "here's the +place to have a good time." +</P> + +<P> +"Is your father back yet, Tom?" the bartender asked as he served a line +of customers. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll come up Monday night, I expect," Tom answered, rather proud of +the attention he was receiving. +</P> + +<P> +The bartender pushed a box of cigars toward him. +</P> + +<P> +"Have a cigar, Tom," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"No, thank you," Tom answered, "not any." Tom could not smoke, but he +drew a plug of chewing tobacco from his pocket and took a chew, to show +that his sympathies were that way. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess perhaps some of you men met Mr. Motherwell in Winnipeg. He's +in there hiring men for this locality," the bartender said amiably. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the name of the gent that hired me," said one. +</P> + +<P> +"Me too." +</P> + +<P> +"And me," came from others. "I'd no intention of comin' here," a man +from Paisley said. "I was goin' to Souris, until that gent got a holt +of me, and I thought if he wuz a sample of the men ye raise here, I'd +hike this way." +</P> + +<P> +"He's lookin' for a treat," the bartender laughed. "He's sized you up, +Tom, as a pretty good fellow." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I ain't after no treat," the Paisley man declared. "That's +straight, what I told you." +</P> + +<P> +Tom unconsciously put his hand in his coat pocket and felt the money +his father had put there. He drew it out wondering. The quick eyes of +the bartender saw it at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Tom's getting out his wad, boys," he laughed. "Nothin' mean about Tom, +you bet Tom's goin' to do somethin'." +</P> + +<P> +In the confusion that followed Tom heard himself saying: +</P> + +<P> +"All right boys, come along and name yer drinks." +</P> + +<P> +Tom had a very indistinct memory of what followed. He remembered having +a handful of silver, and of trying to put it in his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +Once when the boys were standing in front of the bar at his invitation +he noticed a miserable, hungry looking man, who drank greedily. It was +Skinner. Then someone took him by the arm and said something about his +having enough, and Tom felt himself being led across a floor that rose +and fell strangely, to a black lounge that tried to slide away from him +and then came back suddenly and hit him. +</P> + +<P> +The wind raged and howled with increasing violence around the granary +where Arthur lay tossing upon his hard bed. It seized the door and +rattled it in wanton playfulness, as if to deceive the sick man with +the hope that a friend's hand was on the latch, and then raced +blustering and screaming down to the meadows below. The fanning mill +and piles of grain bags made fantastic shadows on the wall in the +lantern's dim light, and seemed to his distorted fancy like dark and +terrible spectres waiting to spring upon him. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl knelt down beside him, tenderly bathing his burning face. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you do all this for me, Pearl?" he asked slowly, his voice +coming thick and painfully. +</P> + +<P> +She changed the cloth on his head before replying. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I keep thinkin' it might be Teddy or Jimmy or maybe wee Danny," +she replied gently, "and besides, there's Thursa." +</P> + +<P> +The young man opened his eyes and smiled bravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, there's Thursa," he said simply. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl kept the fire burning in the kitchen—the doctor might need hot +water. She remembered that he had needed sheets too, and carbolic acid, +when he had operated on her father the winter before. +</P> + +<P> +Arthur did not speak much as the night wore on, and Pearl began to grow +drowsy in spite of all her efforts. She brought the old dog into the +granary with her for company. The wind rattled the mud chinking in the +walls and drove showers of dust and gravel against the little window. +She had put the lantern behind the fanning mill, so that its light +would not shine in Arthur's eyes, and in the semi-darkness, she and old +Nap waited and listened. The dog soon laid his head upon her knee and +slept, and Pearl was left alone to watch. Surely the doctor would come +soon...it was a good thing she had the dog...he was so warm beside her, +and... +</P> + +<P> +She sprang up guiltily. Had she been asleep...what if he had passed +while she slept...she grew cold at the thought. +</P> + +<P> +"Did he pass, Nap?" she whispered to the dog, almost crying. "Oh Nap, +did we let him go past?" +</P> + +<P> +Nap yawned widely and flicked one ear, which was his way of telling +Pearl not to distress herself. Nobody had passed. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl's eyes were heavy with sleep. +</P> + +<P> +"This is not the time to sleep," she said, yawning and shivering. +Arthur's wash-basin stood on the floor beside the bed, where she had +been bathing his face. She put more water into it. +</P> + +<P> +"Now then," she said, "once for his mother, once for his father, a big +long one for Thursa," holding her head so long below the water that it +felt numb, when she took it out. "I can't do one for each of the boys," +she shivered, "I'll lump the boys, here's a big one for them." +</P> + +<P> +"There now," her teeth chattered as she wiped her hair on Arthur's +towel, "that ought to help some." +</P> + +<P> +Arthur opened his eyes and looked anxiously around him. Pearl was +beside him at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Pearl," he said, "what is wrong with me? What terrible pain is this +that has me in its clutches?" The strength had gone out of the man, he +could no longer battle with it. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl hesitated. It is not well to tell sick people your gravest fears. +"Still Arthur is English, and the English are gritty," Pearl thought to +herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Arthur," she said, "I think you have appendicitis." +</P> + +<P> +Arthur lay motionless for a few moments. He knew what that was. +</P> + +<P> +"But that requires an operation," he said at length, "a very skilful +one." +</P> + +<P> +"It does," Pearl replied, "and that's what you'll get as soon as Dr. +Clay gets here, I'm thinking." +</P> + +<P> +Arthur turned his face into his pillow. An operation for appendicitis, +here, in this place, and by that young man, no older than himself +perhaps? He knew that at home, it was only undertaken by the oldest and +best surgeons in the hospitals. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl saw something of his fears in his face. So she hastened to +reassure him. She said cheerfully: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't ye be worried, Arthur, about it at all at all. Man alive! Dr. +Clay thinks no more of an operation like that than I would o' cuttin' +your nails." +</P> + +<P> +A strange feeling began at Arthur's heart, and spread up to his brain. +It had come! It was here! +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + From lightning and tempest; from plague, pestilence + and famine; from battle and murder and sudden + death;—Good Lord, deliver us! +</P> + +<P> +He had prayed it many times, meaninglessly. But he clung to it now, +clung to it desperately. As a drowning man. He put his hand over his +eyes, his pain was forgotten: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + Other lights are paling—which for long years we have + rejoiced to see...we would not mourn them for we go + to Thee! +</P> + +<P> +Yes it was all right; he was ready now. He had come of a race of men +who feared not death in whatever form it came. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + Bring us to our resting beds at night—weary and + content and undishonoured—and grant us in the end + the gift of sleep. +</P> + +<P> +He repeated the prayer to himself slowly. That was it, weary and +content, and undishonoured. +</P> + +<P> +"Pearl," he said, reaching out his burning hand until it rested on +hers, "all my letters are there in that black portmanteau, and the key +is in my pocket-book. I have a fancy that I would like no eye but yours +to see them—until I am quite well again." +</P> + +<P> +She nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"And if you...should have need...to write to Thursa, tell her I had +loving hands around me...at the last." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl gently stroked his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"And to my father write that I knew no fear"—his voice grew +steadier—"and passed out of life glad to have been a brave man's son, +and borne even for a few years a godly father's name." +</P> + +<P> +"I will write it, Arthur," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"And to my mother, Pearl" his voice wavered and broke—"my mother...for +I was her youngest child...tell her she was my last...and tenderest +thought." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl pressed his hand tenderly against her weather-beaten little +cheek, for it was Danny now, grown a man but Danny still, who lay +before her, fighting for his life; and at the thought her tears fell +fast. +</P> + +<P> +"Pearl," he spoke again, after a pause, pressing his hand to his +forehead, "while my mind holds clear, perhaps you would be good enough, +you have been so good to me, to say that prayer you learned. My father +will be in his study now, and soon it will be time for morning prayers. +I often feel his blessing on me, Pearl. I want to feel it now, bringing +peace and rest...weary and content and undishonoured, +and...undishonoured...and grant us..." His voice grew fainter and +trailed away into incoherency. +</P> + +<P> +And now, oh thou dignified rector of St. Agnes, in thy home beyond the +sea, lay aside the "Appendix to the Apology of St. Perpetua," over +which thou porest, for under all thy dignity and formalism there beats +a loving father's heart. The shadows are gathering, dear sir, around +thy fifth son in a far country, and in the gathering shadows there +stalks, noiselessly, relentlessly, that grim, gray spectre, Death. On +thy knees, then, oh Rector of St. Agnes, and blend thy prayers with the +feeble petitions of her who even now, for thy house, entreats the +Throne of Grace. Pray, oh thou on whom the bishop's hands have been +laid, that the golden bowl be not broken nor the silver cord loosed, +for the breath of thy fifth son draws heavily, and the things of time +and sense are fading, fading, fading from his closing eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl repeated the prayer. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> + —And grant, oh most merciful Father for His sake; + That we may hereafter lead a godly, righteous and a + sober life— +</P> + +<P> +She stopped abruptly. The old dog lifted his head and listened. +Snatching up the lantern, she was out of the door before the dog was on +his feet; there were wheels coming, coming down the road in mad haste. +Pearl swung the lantern and shouted. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor reined in his horse. +</P> + +<P> +She flashed the lantern into his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh Doc!" she cried, "dear Doc, I have been waitin' and waitin' for ye. +Git in there to the granary. Arthur's the sickest thing ye ever saw. +Git in there on the double jump." She put the lantern into his hand as +she spoke. +</P> + +<P> +Hastily unhitching the doctor's horse she felt her way with him into +the driving shed. The night was at its blackest. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Thursa," she laughed to herself, "we got him, and he'll do it, +dear Doc, he'll do it." The wind blew dust and gravel in her face as +she ran across the yard. +</P> + +<P> +When she went into the granary the doctor was sitting on the box by +Arthur's bed, with his face in his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Doc, what is it?" she cried, seizing his arm. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor looked at her, dazed, and even Pearl uttered a cry of dismay +when she saw his face, for it was like the face of a dead man. +</P> + +<P> +"Pearl," he said slowly, "I have made a terrible mistake, I have killed +young Cowan." +</P> + +<P> +"Bet he deserved it, then," Pearl said stoutly. +</P> + +<P> +"Killed him," the doctor went on, not heeding her, "he died in my +hands, poor fellow! Oh, the poor young fellow! I lanced his throat, +thinking it was quinsy he had, but it must have been diphtheria, for he +died, Pearl, he died, I tell you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" Pearl cried, excitedly waving her arms, "he ain't the first man +that's been killed by a mistake, I'll bet lots o' doctors kill people +by mistake, but they don't tell—and the corpse don't either, and there +ye are. I'll bet you feel worse about it than he does, Doc." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor groaned. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, Doc," she said, plucking his sleeve, "take a look at Arthur." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor rose uncertainly and paced up and down the floor with his +face in his hands, swaying like a drunken man. +</P> + +<P> +"O God!" he moaned, "if I could but bring back his life with mine; but +I can't! I can't! I can't!" +</P> + +<P> +Pearl watched him, but said not a word. At last she said: +</P> + +<P> +"Doc, I think Arthur has appendicitis. Come and have a look at him, and +see if he hasn't." +</P> + +<P> +With a supreme effort the doctor gained control of himself and made a +hasty but thorough examination. +</P> + +<P> +"He has," he said, "a well developed case of it." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl handed him his satchel. "Here, then," she said, "go at him." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't do it, Pearl," he cried. "I can't. He'll die, I tell you, like +that other poor fellow. I can't send another man to meet his Maker." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he's ready!" Pearl interrupted him. "Don't hold back on Arthur's +account." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't do it," he repeated hopelessly. "He'll die under my knife, I +can't kill two men in one night. O God, be merciful to a poor, +blundering, miserable wretch!" he groaned, burying his face in his +hands, and Pearl noticed that the back of his coat quivered like human +flesh. +</P> + +<P> +Arthur's breath was becoming more and more laboured; his eyes roved +sightlessly around the room; his head rolled on the pillow in a vain +search for rest; his fingers clutched convulsively at the bed-clothes. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl was filled with dismay. The foundations of her little world were +tottering. +</P> + +<P> +All but One. There was One who had never failed her. He would not fail +her now. +</P> + +<P> +She dropped on her knees. +</P> + +<P> +"O God, dear God," she prayed, beating her hard little brown hands +together, "don't go back on us, dear God. Put the gimp into Doc again; +he's not scared to do it, Lord, he's just lost his grip for a minute; +he's not scared Lord; it looks like it, but he isn't. You can bank on +Doc, Lord, he's not scared. Bear with him, dear Lord, just a +minute—just a minute—he'll do it, and he'll do it right, Amen." +</P> + +<P> +When Pearl rose from her knees the doctor had lifted his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want hot water and sheets and carbolic?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +He nodded. +</P> + +<P> +When she came back with them the doctor was taking off his coat. His +instruments were laid out on the box. +</P> + +<P> +"Get a lamp," he said to Pearl. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl's happy heart was singing with joy. "O Lord, dear Lord, You never +fail," she murmured as she ran across to the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +When she came back with the lamp and a chair to set it on, the doctor +was pinning a sheet above the bed. His face was white and drawn, but +his hand was firm and his mouth was a straight line. +</P> + +<P> +Arthur was tossing his arms convulsively. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor listened with his ear a minute upon the sick man's heart, +then the gauze mask was laid upon his face and the chloroform soon did +its merciful work. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor handed Pearl the bottle. "A drop or two if he moves," he +said. +</P> + +<P> +Then Horace Clay, the man with a man's mistakes, his fears, his +heart-burnings, was gone, and in his place stood Horace Clay, the +doctor, keen, alert, masterful, indomitable, with the look of battle on +his face. He worked rapidly, never faltering; his eyes burning with the +joy of the true physician who fights to save, to save a human life from +the grim old enemy, Death. +</P> + +<P> +"You have saved his life, Pearl," the doctor said two hours later. +Arthur lay sleeping easily, the flush gone from his face, and his +breath coming regularly. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor put his hand gently on her tumbled little brown head. +</P> + +<P> +"You saved him from death, Pearl, and me—from something worse." +</P> + +<P> +And then Pearl took the doctor's hand in both of hers, and kissed it +reverently. +</P> + +<P> +"That's for Thursa," she said, gravely. +</P> + +<P> +Tom was awakened by some one shaking him gently. +</P> + +<P> +"Tom, Tom Motherwell, what are you doing here?" +</P> + +<P> +A woman knelt beside him; her eyes were sweet and kind and sad beyond +expression. +</P> + +<P> +"Tom, how did you come here?" she asked, gently, as Tom struggled to +rise. +</P> + +<P> +He sat up, staring stupidly around him. "Wha' 's a matter? Where's +this?" he asked thickly. +</P> + +<P> +"You're in the sitting-room at the hotel," she said. He would have lain +down again, but she took him firmly by the arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Come Tom," she said. "Come and have a drink of water." +</P> + +<P> +She led him out of the hotel to the pump at the corner of the street. +Tom drank thirstily. She pumped water on his hands, and bathed his +burning face in it. The cold water and the fresh air began to clear his +brain. +</P> + +<P> +"What time is it?" he asked her. +</P> + +<P> +"Nearly morning," she said. "About half-past three, I think," and Tom +knew even in the darkness that she had lost more teeth. It was Mrs. +Skinner. +</P> + +<P> +"Tom," she said, "did you see Skinner in there? I came down to get +him—I want him—the child is dead an hour ago." She spoke hurriedly. +</P> + +<P> +Tom remembered now. Yes, he had seen Skinner, but not lately; it was a +long, long time ago. +</P> + +<P> +"Now Tom, go home," she said kindly. "This is bad work for you, my dear +boy. Stop it now, dear Tom, while you can. It will kill you, body and +soul." +</P> + +<P> +A thought struggled in Tom's dull brain. There was something he wanted +to say to her which must be said; but she was gone. +</P> + +<P> +He drank again from the cup that hung beside the pump. Where did he get +this burning thirst, and his head, how it pounded! She had told him to +go home. Well, why wasn't he at home? What was he doing here? +</P> + +<P> +Slowly his memory came back—he had come for the doctor; and the doctor +was to be back in an hour, and now it was nearly morning, didn't she +say? +</P> + +<P> +He tried to run, but his knees failed him—what about Arthur? He grew +chill at the thought—he might be dead by this time. +</P> + +<P> +He reached the doctor's office some way. His head still throbbed and +his feet were heavy as lead; but his mind was clear. +</P> + +<P> +A lamp was burning in the office but no one was in. It seemed a month +ago since he had been there before. The air of the office was close and +stifling, and heavy with stale tobacco smoke. Tom sat down, wearily, in +the doctor's armchair; his heart beat painfully—he'll be dead—he'll +be dead—he'll be dead—it was pounding. The clock on the table was +saying it too. Tom got up and walked up and down to drown the sound. He +stopped before a cabinet and gazed horrified at a human skeleton that +grinned evilly at him. He opened the door hastily, the night wind +fanned his face. He sat down upon the step, thoroughly sober now, but +sick in body and soul. +</P> + +<P> +Soon a heavy step sounded on the sidewalk, and the old doctor came into +the patch of light that shone from the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want me?" he asked as Tom stood up. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," Tom answered; "at once." +</P> + +<P> +"What's wrong?" the doctor asked brusquely. +</P> + +<P> +Tom told him as well as he could. +</P> + +<P> +"Were you here before, early in the evening?" +</P> + +<P> +Tom nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry up then and get your horse," the doctor said, going past him +into the office. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I thought so," the doctor said gathering up his instruments. "I +ought to know the signs—well, well, the poor young Englishman has had +plenty of time to die from ten in the evening till four the next +morning, without indecent haste either, while this young fellow was +hitting up the firewater. Still, God knows, I shouldn't be hard on him. +I've often kept people waiting for the same reason and," he added +grimly, "they didn't always wait either." +</P> + +<P> +When Tom and the old doctor drove into the yard everything was silent. +The wind had fallen, and the eastern sky was bright with morning. +</P> + +<P> +The old dog who lay in front of the granary door raised his head at +their approach and lifted one ear, as if to command silence. +</P> + +<P> +Tom helped the doctor out of the buggy. He tried to unhitch the horse, +but the beating of his heart nearly choked him—the fear of what might +be in the granary. He waited for the exclamation from the doctor which +would proclaim him a murderer. He heard the door open again—the doctor +was coming to tell him—Tom's knees grew weak—he held to the horse for +support—who was this who had caught his arm—it was Pearl crying and +laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Tom, Tom, it's all over, and Arthur's going to get well," she +whispered. "Dr. Clay came." +</P> + +<P> +But Pearl was not prepared for what happened. +</P> + +<P> +Tom put his head down upon the horse's neck and cried like a child—no, +like a man—for in the dark and terrible night that had just passed, +sullied though it was by temptations and yieldings and neglect of duty, +the soul of a man had been born in him, and he had put away childish +things forever. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Clay was kneeling in front of the box cleaning his instruments, +with his back toward the door, when Dr. Barner entered. He greeted the +older man cordially, receiving but a curt reply. Then the professional +eye of the old doctor began to take in the situation. A half-used roll +of antiseptic lint lay on the floor; the fumes of the disinfectants and +of the ansthetic still hung on the air. Tom's description of the case +had suggested appendicitis. +</P> + +<P> +"What was the trouble?" he asked quickly. +</P> + +<P> +The young doctor told him, giving him such a thoroughly scientific +history of the case that the old doctor's opinion of him underwent a +radical change. The young doctor explained briefly what he had +attempted to do by the operation; the regular breathing and apparently +normal temperature of the patient was, to the old doctor, sufficient +proof of its success. +</P> + +<P> +He stooped suddenly to examine the dressing that the young doctor was +showing him, but his face twitched with some strong emotion—pride, +professional jealousy, hatred were breaking down before a stronger and +a worthier feeling. +</P> + +<P> +He turned abruptly and grasped the young doctor's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Clay!" he cried, "it was a great piece of work, here, alone, and by +lamplight. You are a brave man, and I honour you." Then his voice +broke. "I'd give every day of my miserable life to be able to do this +once more, just once, but I haven't the nerve, Clay"; the hand that the +young doctor held trembled. "I haven't the nerve. I've been going on a +whiskey nerve too long." +</P> + +<P> +"Dr. Barner," the young man replied, as he returned the other's grasp, +"I thank you for your good words, but I wasn't alone when I did it. The +bravest little girl in all the world was here and shamed me out of my +weakness and," he added reverently, "I think God Himself steadied my +hand." +</P> + +<P> +The old man looked up wondering. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you, Clay," he said simply. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE HARVEST +</H3> + +<P> +Tom went straight to his mother that morning and told her +everything—the party he had gone to, his discontent, his desire for +company and fun, and excitement, taking the money, and the events of +the previous night. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Motherwell saw her boy in a new light as she listened, and Tom had +a glorified vision of his mother as she clasped him in her arms crying: +"It is our fault Tom, mine and your father's; we have tried to make you +into a machine like we are ourselves, and forgot that you had a soul, +but it's not too late yet, Tom. I hate the money, too, if it's only to +be hoarded up; the money we sent to Polly's mother has given me more +pleasure than all the rest that we have." +</P> + +<P> +"Mother," Tom said, "how do you suppose that money happened to be in +that overcoat pocket?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," she answered; "your father must have left it there when +he wore it last. It looks as if the devil himself put it there to tempt +you, Tom." +</P> + +<P> +When his father came back from Winnipeg, Tom made to him a full +confession as he had to his mother; and was surprised to find that his +father had for him not one word of reproach. Since sending the money to +Polly's mother Sam had found a little of the blessedness of giving, and +it had changed his way of looking at things, in some measure at least. +He had made up his mind to give the money back to the church, and now +when he found that it had gone, and gone in such a way, he felt vaguely +that it was a punishment for his own meanness, and in a small measure, +at least, he was grateful that no worse evil had resulted from it. +</P> + +<P> +"Father, did you put that money there?" Tom asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I did Tom," he answered. "I ought to be ashamed of myself for +being so careless, too." +</P> + +<P> +"It just seemed as if it was the devil himself," Tom said. "I had no +intention of drinking when I took out that money." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Tom," his father said, with a short laugh, "I guess the devil +had a hand in it, he was in me quite a bit when I put it there, I kin +tell ye." +</P> + +<P> +The next Sunday morning Samuel Motherwell, his wife and son, went to +church. Sam placed on the plate an envelope containing fifty dollars. +</P> + +<P> +On the following morning Sam had just cut two rounds with the binder +when the Reverend Hugh Grantley drove into the field. Sam stopped his +binder and got down. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Mr. Motherwell," the minister said, holding out his hand +cordially as he walked over to where Sam stood, "how did it happen?" +</P> + +<P> +Sam grasped his hand warmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Ask Tom," he said, nodding his head toward his son who was stooking +the grain a little distance away. "It is Tom's story." +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Grantley did ask Tom, and Tom told him; and there in the sunshine, +with the smell of the ripe grain in their nostrils as the minister +helped him to carry the sheaves, a new heaven and a new earth were +opened to Tom, and a new life was born within him, a life of godliness +and of brotherly kindness, whose blessed influence has gone far beyond +the narrow limits of that neighbourhood. +</P> + +<P> +It was nearly noon when the minister left him and drove home through +the sun-flooded grain fields, with a glorified look on his face as one +who had seen the heavens opened. +</P> + +<P> +Just before he turned into the valley of the Souris, he stopped his +horse, and looked back over the miles and miles of rippling gold. The +clickety-click-click of many binders came to his ears. Oh what a day it +was! all sunshine and blue sky! Below him the river glinted through the +trees, and the railway track shimmered like a silver ribbon, and as he +drove into the winding valley, the Reverend Hugh Grantley sang, despite +his Cameronian blood, sang like a Methodist: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Praise God from whom all blessings flow,<BR> + Praise Him all creatures here below,<BR> + Praise Him above, ye heavenly host,<BR> + Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CUPID'S EMISSARY +</H3> + +<P> +Mrs. McGuire did not look like Cupid's earthly representative as she +sat in her chintz-covered rocking-chair and bitterly complained of the +weather. The weather was damp and cloudy, and Mrs. McGuire said her +"jints were jumpin'." +</P> + +<P> +The little Watsons were behaving so well that even with her rheumatism +to help her vision she could find no fault with them, "just now"; but +she reckoned the mischief "was hatchin'." +</P> + +<P> +A change was taking place in Mrs. McGuire, although she was unconscious +of it; Mary Barner, who was a frequent and welcome visitor, was having +an influence even on the flinty heart of the relict of the late +McGuire. Mary "red up" her house for her when her rheumatism was bad. +She cooked for her, she sang and read for her. Above all things, Mary +was her friend, and no one who has a friend can be altogether at war +with the world. +</P> + +<P> +One evening when Mary was reading the "Pilgrim's Progress" to her, the +Reverend Hugh Grantley came in and begged to be let stay and enjoy the +reading, too. He said Miss Barner's voice seemed to take the tangles +out of his brain, whereupon Mrs. McGuire winked at herself. +</P> + +<P> +That night she obligingly fell asleep just where Christian resolved to +press on to the Heavenly City at all costs, and Mistrust and Timorous +ran down the hill. +</P> + +<P> +After that the minister came regularly, and Mrs. McGuire, though she +complained to herself that it was hard to lose so much of the reading, +fell asleep each night, and snored loudly. She said she had been young +herself once, and guessed she knew how it was with young folks. Just +hoped he was good enough for Mary, that was all; men were such +deceivers—they were all smooth as silk, until it came to livin' with +'em, and then she shook her head grimly, thinking no doubt of the +vagaries of the late McGuire. +</P> + +<P> +The Reverend Hugh Grantley walked up and down the floor of his study in +deep meditation. But his thoughts were not on his Sunday sermon nor yet +on the topic for the young people's meeting, though they were serious +enough by the set of his jaw. +</P> + +<P> +His friend Clay had just left him. Clay was in a radiant humour. Dr. +Barner's friendly attitude toward him had apparently changed the aspect +of affairs, and now the old doctor had suggested taking him into +partnership. +</P> + +<P> +"Think of it, Grantley," the young man had exclaimed, "what this will +mean to me. He is a great man in his profession, so clever, so witty, +so scholarly, everything. He was the double gold medallist in his year +at McGill, and he has been keeping absolutely sober lately—thanks to +your good offices"—at which the other made a gesture of dissent—"and +then I would be in a better position to look after things. As it has +been, any help I gave Mary in keeping the old man from killing people +had to be done on the sly." +</P> + +<P> +The minister winced and went a shade paler at the mention of her name, +but the doctor did not notice. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary is anxious to have it brought about, too," he went on, "for it +has always been a worry to her when he was away, but now he will do the +office work, and I will do the driving. It will be a distinct advantage +to me, though of course I would do it anyway for her sake." +</P> + +<P> +Then it was well for the minister that he came of a race that can hold +its features in control. This easy naming of her name, the apparent +proprietorship, the radiant happiness in Clay's face, could mean but +one thing. He had been blind, blind, blind! +</P> + +<P> +He heard himself saying mechanically. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, of course, I think it is the only thing to do," and Clay had gone +out whistling. +</P> + +<P> +He sat for a few minutes perfectly motionless. Then a shudder ran +through him, and the black Highland blood surged into his face, and +anger flamed in his eyes. He sprang to his feet with his huge hands +clenched. +</P> + +<P> +"He shall not have her," he whispered to himself. "She is mine. How +dare he name her!" +</P> + +<P> +Only for a moment did he give himself to the ecstasy of rage. Then his +arms fell and he stood straight and calm and strong, master of himself +once more. +</P> + +<P> +"What right have I?" he groaned wearily pressing his hands to his head. +"Who am I that any woman should desire me. Clay, with his easy grace, +his wit, his manliness, his handsome face, no wonder that she prefers +him, any woman would, and Clay is worthy, more worthy," he thought in +an agony of renunciation. He thought of Clay's life as he had known it +now for years. So fair and open and clean. "Yes, Clay is worthy of +her." He repeated it dully to himself as he walked up and down. +</P> + +<P> +Every incident of the past three months came back to him now with cruel +distinctness—the sweetness of her voice, the glorious beauty of her +face, so full sometimes of life's pain, so strong too in the overcoming +of it, and her little hands—oh what pretty little hands they were—he +had held them once only for a moment, but she must have felt the love +that throbbed in his touch, and he had thought that perhaps—perhaps +Oh, unutterable blind fool that he was! +</P> + +<P> +He pressed his hands again to his head and groaned aloud; and He who +hears the cry of the child or of the strong man in agony drew near and +laid His pierced hands upon him in healing and benediction. +</P> + +<P> +The next Sunday the Reverend Hugh Grantley was at his best, and his +sermons had a new quality that appealed to and comforted many a weary +one who, like himself, was traveling by the thorn-road. +</P> + +<P> +In Mrs. McGuire's little house there was nothing to disturb the reading +now, for the minister came no more, but the joyousness had all gone +from Mary's voice, and Mrs. McGuire found herself losing all interest +in Christian's struggles as she looked at Mary's face. +</P> + +<P> +Once she saw the minister pass and she beat upon the window with her +knitting needle, but he hurried by without looking up. Then the anger +of Mrs. McGuire was kindled mightily, and she sometimes woke up in the +night to express her opinion of him in the most lurid terms she could +think of, feeling meanwhile the futility of human speech. It was a hard +position for Mrs. McGuire, who had always been able to settle her own +affairs with ease and grace. +</P> + +<P> +One day when this had been going on about a month, Mrs. McGuire sat in +her chintz-covered rocking-chair and thought hard, for something had to +be done. She narrowed her black eyes into slits and thought and +thought. Suddenly she started as if she heard something, and perhaps +she did—the angel who brought the inspiration may have whirred his +wings a little. +</P> + +<P> +Mary Barner was coming that afternoon to "red up" a little for her, for +her rheumatism had been very bad. With wonderful agility she rose and +made ready for bed. First, however, she carefully examined the latch on +her kitchen door. Now this latch had a bad habit of locking itself if +the door was closed quickly. Mrs. McGuire tried it and found it would +do this every time, and with this she seemed quite satisfied. +</P> + +<P> +About half after three o'clock Mary came and began to set the little +house in order. When this was done Mrs. McGuire asked her if she would +make her a few buttermilk biscuits, she had been wishing for them all +day. +</P> + +<P> +When she saw Mary safely in the kitchen her heart began to beat. Now if +the minister was at home, the thing was as good as done. +</P> + +<P> +She watched at the window until Jimmy Watson came from school, and +then, tapping on the glass, beckoned him to come in, which he did with +great trepidation of spirit. +</P> + +<P> +She told him to go at once and tell Mr. Grantley to come, for she +needed him very badly. +</P> + +<P> +Then she got back into bed, and tried to compose her features into some +resemblance of invalidism. +</P> + +<P> +When Mr. Grantley came she was resting easier she said (which was +true), but would he just get her a drink of water from the kitchen, and +would he please shut the door quick after him and not let the cat up. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. Grantley went at once and she heard the door shut with a snap. +</P> + +<P> +Just to be sure that it was "snibbed," Mrs. McGuire tiptoed after him +in her bare feet, a very bad thing for a sick-a-bed lady to do, too, +but to her credit, be it written, she did not listen at the keyhole. +</P> + +<P> +She got back into bed, exclaiming to herself with great emphasis: +</P> + +<P> +"There, now, fight it out among yerselves." +</P> + +<P> +When the minister stepped quickly inside the little kitchen, closing +the door hurriedly behind him to prevent the invasion of the cat (of +which there wasn't one and never had been any), he beheld a very busy +and beautiful young woman sifting flour into a baking-dish. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary!" he almost shouted, hardly believing his senses. +</P> + +<P> +He recovered himself instantly, and explained his errand, but the +pallor of his face was unmistakable. +</P> + +<P> +When Mary handed him the cup of water she saw that his hand was +shaking; but she returned to her baking with the greatest composure. +</P> + +<P> +The minister attempted to lift the latch, he rattled the door in vain. +</P> + +<P> +"Come out this way," Mary said as sweetly as if she really wanted him +to go. +</P> + +<P> +She tried to open the outside door, also in vain. Mrs. McGuire had +secured it from the outside with a clothes-line prop and a horse nail. +</P> + +<P> +The minister came and tried it, but Mrs. McGuire's work held good. Then +the absurdity of the position struck them both, and the little house +rang with their laughter—laughter that washed away the heartaches of +the dreary days before. +</P> + +<P> +The minister's reserve was breaking down. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary," he said, taking her face between his hands, "are you going to +marry Horace Clay?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," she answered, meeting his eyes with the sweetest light in hers +that ever comes into a woman's face. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then," he said, as he drew her to him, "you are going to marry +me." +</P> + +<P> +The day had been dark and rainy, but now the clouds rolled back and the +sunshine, warm and glorious, streamed into the kitchen. The teakettle, +too, on the stove behind them, threw up its lid and burst into a +thunder of bubbles. +</P> + +<P> +The next time they tried the door it yielded, Mrs. McGuire having made +a second barefoot journey. +</P> + +<P> +When they came up from the little kitchen, the light ineffable was +shining in their faces, but Mrs. McGuire called them back to earth by +remarking dryly: +</P> + +<P> +"It's just as well I wasn't parchin' for that drink." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE THANKSGIVING +</H3> + +<P> +The prairie lay sere and brown like a piece of faded tapestry beneath +the November sun that, peering through the dust-laden air, seemed old +and worn with his efforts to warm the poor old faded earth. +</P> + +<P> +The grain had all been cut and gathered into stacks that had dotted the +fields, two by two, like comfortable married couples, and these in turn +had changed into billowy piles of yellow straw, through which herds of +cattle foraged, giving a touch of life and colour to the unending +colourless landscape. The trees stood naked and bare. The gardens where +once the corn waved and the hollyhocks flaunted their brazen beauty, +now lay a tangled litter of stalks, waiting the thrifty farmer's torch +to clear them away before the snow came. The earth had yielded of her +fruits and now rested from her labour, worn and spent, taking no +thought of comeliness, but waiting in decrepit indifference for her +friend, the North Wind, to bring down the swirling snow to hide her +scars and heal her unloveliness with its kindly white mantle. +</P> + +<P> +But although the earth lay sere and brown and dust-laden, the granaries +and elevators were bursting with a rich abundance. Innumerable +freight-trains loaded with wheat wound heavily up the long grade, +carrying off all too slowly the produce of the plain, and still the +loads of grain came pouring in from the farms. The cellars were full of +the abundance of the gardens—golden turnips, rosy potatoes and rows of +pale green cabbages hanging by their roots to the beams gave an air of +security against the long, cold, hungry winter. +</P> + +<P> +Inside of John Watson's home, in spite of November's dullness, joy and +gladness reigned, for was not Pearl coming home? Pearl, her mother's +helper and adviser; Pearl, her silent father's wonder and delight, the +second mother of all the little Watsons! Pearl was coming home. +</P> + +<P> +Events in the Watson family were reckoned from the time of Pearl's +departure or the time of her expected home-coming. "Pa got raised from +one dollar and a quarter to one dollar and a half just six weeks from +the day Pearl left, lackin' two days," and Mrs. Evans gave Mary a new +"stuff" dress, "on the Frida' as Pearl left or the Thursda' three weeks +before," and, moreover, the latest McSorley baby was born "on the +Wednesda' as Pearl was comin' home on the Saturda' four weeks after." +</P> + +<P> +Domestic affairs were influenced to some degree by Pearl's expected +arrival. "Don't be wearin' yer sweater now, Tommy man, I'm feart the +red strip'll run in it when its washed; save it clean till Pearlie +comes, there's a man." +</P> + +<P> +"Patsey, avick, wobble yer tooth now man alive. Don't be havin' that +loose thing hangin' in yer jaw, and Pearlie comin' home so soon." +</P> + +<P> +The younger children, whose appetites were out of all proportion to the +supply, were often "tided over" what might have been a tearful time by +a promise of the good time coming. When Danny cried because the bottom +of his porridge plate was "always stickin' through," and later in the +same day came home in the same unmanned condition because he had +smelled chickens cooking down at the hotel when he and Jimmy went with +the milk, Mary rose to the occasion and told him in a wild flight of +unwarranted extravagance that they would have a turkey when Pearl came +home. 'N cranberry sauce. 'N brown gravy. No-ow! +</P> + +<P> +The house had undergone some preparations for the joyous event. +Everything was scrubbed that could be scrubbed. An elaborately +scalloped newspaper drape ornamented the clock shelf; paper chains, +made of blue and yellow sale-bills, were festooned from the elbow of +the stove pipes to the window curtains; the wood box was freshly +papered with newspaper; red flannel was put in the lamps. +</P> + +<P> +The children were scrubbed until they shone. Bugsey's sweater had a +hole in the "chist," but you would never know it the way he held his +hand. Tommy's stocking had a hole in the knee, but he had artfully +inserted a piece of black lining that by careful watching kept up +appearances. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Watson, instigated by Danny, had looked at the turkeys in the +butcher shop that morning, asked the price and came away sorrowful. +Even Danny understood that a turkey was not to be thought of. They +compromised on a pot-roast because it makes so much gravy, and with +this and the prospect of potatoes and turnips and prune-pie, the family +had to be content. +</P> + +<P> +On the day that Pearlie was expected home, Mrs. Watson and Mary were +busy preparing the evening meal, although it was still quite early in +the afternoon. Wee Danny stood on a syrup keg in front of the window, +determined to be the first to see Pearlie. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Watson was peeling the potatoes and singing. Mrs. Watson sang +because her heart was glad, for was not Pearlie coming home. She never +allowed her singing to interfere with more urgent duties; the singing +could always wait, and she never forgot just where she had left it, but +would come back and pick up at the exact place she had discarded it. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure ain't it great the way ma never drops a stitch in her singin'," +her eldest son Teddy had said admiringly one day. "She can lave a note +half turned up in the air, and go off and lave it, and ye'd think she'd +forgot where she left it, but never a fear o' ma, two days afther +she'll rache up for it and bring it down and slip off into the choon +agin, nate as nate." +</P> + +<P> +On this particular day Mrs. Watson sang because she couldn't help it, +for Pearlie was coming home— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + From Greenland's icy mountains,<BR> + From India's coral strands,<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +she sang, as she peeled the potatoes— +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Where Africa's sunny fount—<BR> +</P> + +<P> +"Come, Mary alanna, and scour the knives, sure an' I forgot them at +noon to-day. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + -tains<BR> + Flow down their crimson sands;<BR> + From many an ancient river<BR> + And many a sandy—<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Put a dhrop more wather in the kittle Tommy—don't ye hear it spittin'?" +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + -plain<BR> + They call us to deliver—<BR> +</P> + +<P> +Here a shout sounded outside, and Bugsey came tumbling in and said he +thought he had seen Pearlie coming away down the road across the track, +whereupon Danny cried so uproariously that Bugsey, like the gentleman +he was, withdrew his statement, or at least modified it by saying it +might be Pearlie and it might not. +</P> + +<P> +But it was Pearl, sure enough, and Danny had the pleasure of giving the +alarm, beating on the window, maudlin with happiness, while Pearl said +good-bye to Tom Motherwell, who had brought her home. Tommy and Bugsey +and Patsey waited giggling just inside the door, while Mary and Mrs. +Watson went out to greet her. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl was in at last, kissing every little last Watson, forgetting she +had done Tommy and doing him over again; with Danny holding tightly to +her skirt through it all, everybody talking at once. +</P> + +<P> +Then the excitement calmed down somewhat, but only to break right out +again, for Jimmy who had been downtown came home and found the box +which Tom Motherwell had left on the step after Pearl had gone in. They +carried it in excitedly and eager little hands raised the lid, eager +little voices shouted with delight. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I tell ye we'd have a turkey when Pearlie came home," Mary +shouted triumphantly. +</P> + +<P> +Pearlie rose at once to her old position of director-in-chief. +</P> + +<P> +"The turkey'll be enough for us, and it'll be done in time yet, and +we'll send the chicken to Mrs. McGuire, poor owld lady, she wuz good to +me the day I left. Now ma, you sit down, me and Mary'll git along. Here +Bugsey and Tommy and Patsey and Danny, here's five cents a piece for ye +to go and buy what ye like, but don't ye buy anything to ate, for ye'll +not need it, but yez can buy hankies, any kind ye like, ye'll need them +now the winter's comin' on, and yez'll be havin' the snuffles." +</P> + +<P> +When the boys came back with their purchases they were put in a row +upon their mother's bed to be out of the way while the supper was being +prepared, all except wee Bugsey, who went, from choice, down to the +tracks to see the cars getting loaded—the sizzle of the turkey in the +oven made the tears come. +</P> + +<P> +Two hours later the Watson family sat down to supper, not in sections, +but the whole family. The table had long since been inadequate to the +family's needs, but two boards, with a flour-sack on them, from the end +of it to the washing machine overcame the difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +Was there ever such a turkey as that one? Mrs. Watson carved it herself +on the back of the stove. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure yer poor father can't be bothered with it, and it's a thing he +ain't handy at, mirover, no more'n meself; but the atin' is on it, +praise God, and we'll git at it someway." +</P> + +<P> +Ten plates were heaped full of potatoes and turnips, turkey, brown +gravy, and "stuffin"; and still that mammoth turkey had layers of meat +upon his giant sides. What did it matter if there were not enough +plates to go around, and Tommy had to eat his supper out of the +saucepan; and even if there were no cups for the boys, was not the pail +with the dipper in it just behind them on the old high-chair. +</P> + +<P> +When the plates had all been cleaned the second time, and the turkey +began to look as if something had happened to it, Mary brought in the +surprise of the evening—it was the jelly Mrs. Evans had sent them when +she let Mary come home early in the afternoon, a present from Algernon, +she said, and the whipped cream that Camilla had given Jimmy when he +ran over to tell her and Mrs. Francis that Pearlie had really come. +Then everyone saw the advantage of having their plates licked clean, +and not having more turkey than they knew what to do with. Danny was +inarticulate with happiness. +</P> + +<P> +"Lift me down, Pearlie," he murmured sleepily as he poked down the last +spoonful, "and do not jiggle me." +</P> + +<P> +When Patsey and Bugsey and Tommy and Danny had gone to bed, and Mary +and Mrs. Watson were washing the dishes (Pearlie was not allowed to +help, being the guest of honour), John Watson sat silently smoking his +pipe, listening with delight while Pearl related her experiences of the +last three months. +</P> + +<P> +She was telling about the night that she had watched for the doctor. +Not a word did she tell about, her friend, the doctor's agitation, nor +what had caused it on that occasion, and she was very much relieved to +find that her listeners did not seem to have heard about the +circumstances of Ab Cowan's death. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I tell ye, Doctor Clay's the fellow," she said, her eyes sparkling +with enthusiasm. "He knew what was wrong wid Arthur the minute he +clapped his eyes on him—tore open his little satchel, slapped the +chloroform into his face, whisked out his knives and slashed into him +as aisy as ma wud into a pair of pants for Jimmie there, and him +waitin' for them." +</P> + +<P> +"Look at that now!" her father exclaimed, pulling out the damper of the +stove and spitting in the ashes. "Yon's a man'll make his mark wherever +he goes." +</P> + +<P> +A knock sounded on the door. Teddy opened it and admitted Camilla and +Jim Russell. +</P> + +<P> +"I've got a letter for you Pearl," Jim said when the greetings were +over. "When Tom brought the mail this evening this letter for you was +in with the others, and Arthur brought it over to see if I would bring +it in. I didn't really want to come, but seeing as it was for you, +Pearl, I came." +</P> + +<P> +Camilla was not listening to him at all. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl took the letter wonderingly. "Read it Camilla," she said, handing +it to her friend. +</P> + +<P> +Camilla broke the seal and read it. It was from Alfred Austin Wemyss, +Rector of St. Agnes, Tillbury Road, County of Kent, England. +</P> + +<P> +It was a stately letter, becoming a rector, dignified and chaste in its +language. It was the letter of a dignitary of the Church to an unknown +and obscure child in a distant land, but it told of a father and +mother's gratitude for a son's life saved, it breathed an admiration +for the little girl's devotion and heroism, and a love for her that +would last as long as life itself. +</P> + +<P> +Pearl sat in mute wonder, as Camilla read—that could not mean her! +</P> + +<P> +We do not mean to offer money as a payment for what you have done, dear +child (Camilla read on), for such a service of love can only be paid in +love; but we ask you to accept from us this gift as our own daughter +would accept it if we had had one, and we will be glad to think that it +has been a help to you in the securing of an education. Our brother, +the bishop, wishes you to take from him a gift of 20 pounds, and it is +his desire that you should spend it in whatever way will give you the +most pleasure. We are, dear Pearl, +</P> + +<P> +Your grateful friends, ALFRED A. and MARY WEMYSS. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is a Bank of England draft for 120 pounds, nearly $600," Camilla +said, as she finished the letter. +</P> + +<P> +The Watson family sat dumb with astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"God help us!" Mrs. Watson cried at last. +</P> + +<P> +"He has," Camilla said reverently. +</P> + +<P> +Then Pearl threw her arms around her mother's neck and kissed her over +and over again. +</P> + +<P> +"Ma, dear," she cried, "ye'll git it now, what I always wanted ye to +have, a fur-lined cape, and not lined wid rabbit, or squirrel or skunk +either, but with the real vermin! and it wasn't bad luck to have Mrs. +McGuire cross me path when I was going out. But they can't mane me, +Camilla, sure what did I do?" +</P> + +<P> +But Camilla and Jim stood firm, the money was for her and her only. +Everyone knew, Jim said, that if she had not stayed with Arthur that +long night and watched for the doctor, that Arthur would have been dead +in the morning. And Arthur had told him a dozen times, Jim said, that +Pearl had saved his life. +</P> + +<P> +"Well then, 't was aisy saved," Pearl declared, "if I saved it." +</P> + +<P> +Just then Dr. Clay came in with a letter in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"My business is with this young lady," he said as he sat on the chair +Mrs. Watson had wiped for him, and drew Pearl gently toward him. +"Pearl, I got some money to-night that doesn't belong to me." +</P> + +<P> +"So did I," Pearl said. +</P> + +<P> +"No, you deserve all yours, but I don't deserve a cent. If it hadn't +been for this little girl of yours, Mr. Watson, that young Englishman +would have been a dead man." +</P> + +<P> +"Faith, that's what they do be sayin', but I don't see how that wuz. +You're the man yerself Doc," John replied, taking his pipe from his +mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"No," the doctor went on. "I would have let him die if Pearl hadn't +held me up to it and made me operate." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl sprang up, almost in tears. "Doc," she cried indignantly, +"haven't I towld ye a dozen times not to say that? Where's yer sense, +Doc?" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor laughed. He could laugh about it now, since Dr. Barner had +quite exonerated him from blame in the matter, and given it as his +professional opinion that young Cowan would have died any way—the +lancing of his throat having perhaps hastened, but did not cause his +death. +</P> + +<P> +"Pearl," the doctor said smiling, "Arthur's father sent me 50 pounds +and a letter that will make me blush every time I think of it. Now I +cannot take the money. The operation, no doubt, saved his life, but if +it hadn't been for you there would have been no operation. I want you +to take the money. If you do not, I will have to send it back to +Arthur's father and tell him all about it." +</P> + +<P> +Pearl looked at him in real distress. +</P> + +<P> +"And I'll tell everyone else, too, what kind of a man I am—Jim here +knows it already"—the doctor's eyes were smiling as he watched her +troubled little face. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Doctor Clay," she cried, "you're worse 'n Danny when you get a +notion inter yer head. What kin I do with ye?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not know," the doctor laughed, "unless you marry me when you grow +up." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," Pearl answered gravely, "I can't do that till ma and me git the +family raised, but I'm thinkin' maybe Mary Barner might take ye." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought of that, too," the doctor answered, while a slight shadow +passed over his face, "but she seems to think not. However, I'm not in +a hurry Pearl, and I just think I'll wait for you." +</P> + +<P> +After Camilla and Jim and the doctor had gone that night, and Teddy and +Billy and Jimmy had gone to bed, Pearl crept into her father's arms and +laid her head on his broad shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Pa," she said drowsily, "I'm glad I'm home." +</P> + +<P> +Her father patted her little brown hand. +</P> + +<P> +"So am I, acushla," he said; after a pause he whispered, "yer a good +wee girl, Pearlie," but Pearl's tired little eyes had closed in sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Watson laid more wood on the fire, which crackled merrily up the +chimney. +</P> + +<P> +"Lay her down, John dear," she whispered. "Yer arms'll ache, man." +</P> + +<P> +On the back of the stove the teakettle simmered drowsily. There was no +sound in the house but the regular breathing of the sleeping children. +The fire burned low, but John Watson still sat holding his little +sleeping girl in his arms. Outside the snow was beginning to fall. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CONCLUSION +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CONVINCING CAMILLA +</H3> + +<P> +"If you can convince me, Jim, that you are more irresponsible and more +in need of a guiding hand than Mrs. Francis—why then I'll—I'll be—" +</P> + +<P> +Jim sprang from his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be what, Camilla? Tell me quick," he cried eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be—convinced," she said demurely, looking down. +</P> + +<P> +Jim sat down again and sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you be anything else?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Convince me first," she said firmly. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I can do it," he said, "I always have to write down what I +want to do each day, and what I need to buy when I come in here, and +once, when I wrote my list, nails, coffee, ploughshare, mail, I forgot +to put on it, 'come back,' and perhaps you may remember I came here +that evening and stayed and stayed—I was trying to think what to do +next." +</P> + +<P> +"That need not worry you again, Jim," she said sweetly. "I can easily +remember that, and will tell you every time." +</P> + +<P> +"To 'come back'?" he said. "Thank you, Camilla, and I will do it too." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Having to make a list isn't anything. Poor Mrs. Francis makes a list +and then loses it, then makes a second list, and puts on it to find the +first list, and then loses that; and Jim, she once made biscuits and +forgot the shortening." +</P> + +<P> +"I made biscuits once and forgot the flour," Jim declared proudly. +</P> + +<P> +Camilla shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"And, Camilla," Jim said gravely, "I am really very irresponsible, you +know Nellie Slater—she is a pretty girl, isn't she?" +</P> + +<P> +"A very pretty girl," Camilla agreed. +</P> + +<P> +"About your size—fluffy hair—" +</P> + +<P> +"Wavy, Jim," Camilla corrected. +</P> + +<P> +"Hers is fluffy, yours is wavy," Jim said firmly—"lovely dark +eyes—well, she was standing by the window, just before the lamps were +lighted, and I really am very absent-minded you know—I don't know how +it happened that I mistook her for you." +</P> + +<P> +Camilla reached out her hand. +</P> + +<P> +He seized it eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +"Jim—I am convinced," she said softly. +</P> + +<P> +Fifteen minutes afterwards Camilla said: +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot tell her, Jim, I really cannot. I don't how know to begin to +tell her." +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you need to tell her?" Jim asked. "Hasn't the lady eyes and +understanding? What does she think I come for?" +</P> + +<P> +"She doesn't know you come. She sees somebody here, but she thinks it's +the grocery-boy waiting until I empty his basket." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed," Jim said a little stiffly, "which one, I wonder." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you remember the night she said to me 'And what did you say this +young man's name is, Camilla'—no, no, Jim, she hasn't noticed you at +all." +</P> + +<P> +Jim was silent a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Well now," he said at last, "she seemed to be taking notice that +morning I came in without any very good excuse, and she said 'How does +it happen that you are not harvesting this beautiful day, Mr. Russell?'" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and what did you say?" Camilla asked a trifle severely. +</P> + +<P> +Jim looked a little embarrassed. +</P> + +<P> +"I said—I had not felt well lately, and I had come in to see the +doctor." +</P> + +<P> +"And what was that?" Camilla was still stern. +</P> + +<P> +"The ingenious device of an ardent lover," he replied quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ardened sinner you mean, Jim," she laughed. "But the next time you +had a splendid excuse, you had a message from Pearl. Was my new suit +done?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, and then I came to see—" +</P> + +<P> +There was a frou-frou of skirts in the hall. Camilla made a quick move +and Jim became busy with the books on the table. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Francis entered. +</P> + +<P> +"Camilla," she began after she had spoken cordially to Jim, "Mr. +Francis is in need of a young man to manage his business for him, and +he has made up his mind—quite made up his mind, Camilla, to take Mr. +Russell into partnership with him if Mr. Russell will agree. Mr. +Francis needs just such a young man, one of education, good habits and +business ability and so, Camilla, I see no reason why your marriage +should not take place at once." +</P> + +<P> +"Marriage!" Camilla gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," Mrs. Francis said in her richest tones. "Your marriage, Camilla, +at once. You are engaged are you not?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am—convinced," Camilla said irrelevantly. +</P> + +<P> +And then it was Mrs. Francis who laughed as she held out a hand to each +of them. +</P> + +<P> +"I do see—things—sometimes," she said. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Sowing Seeds in Danny, by Nellie L. 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