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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Story of the Gravelys, by Marshall
+Saunders
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world 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.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Story of the Gravelys
+       A Tale for Girls
+
+
+Author: Marshall Saunders
+
+
+
+Release Date: December 6, 2016  [eBook #53675]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by David Edwards and the Online Distributed Proofreading
+Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by
+Internet Archive (https://archive.org)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 53675-h.htm or 53675-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53675/53675-h/53675-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/53675/53675-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive. See
+      https://archive.org/details/storyofgravelyst00saunuoft
+
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS
+
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+          Works of Marshall Saunders
+
+    Beautiful Joe’s Paradise.    Net $1.20
+                            Postpaid $1.32
+    The Story of the Gravelys.   Net $1.20
+                            Postpaid $1.35
+    ’Tilda Jane.                     $1.50
+    Rose à Charlitte.                $1.50
+    For His Country.                 $ .50
+
+             L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
+      New England Building, Boston, Mass.
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+
+[Illustration: “BENT THEIR HEADS OVER THE PAPER”
+
+(_See page 40_)]
+
+
+THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS
+
+A Tale for Girls
+
+by
+
+MARSHALL SAUNDERS
+
+Author of
+“Beautiful Joe,” “Beautiful Joe’s Paradise,”
+“’Tilda Jane,” etc.
+
+
+   “A child’s needless tear is a blood-blot upon this earth.”
+
+                                          --CARDINAL MANNING
+
+
+Illustrated
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Boston
+L. C. Page & Company
+1904
+
+Copyright, 1902, 1903
+By Perry Mason Company
+
+Copyright, 1903
+By L. C. Page & Company
+(Incorporated)
+
+All rights reserved
+
+Published September, 1903
+
+Colonial Press
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
+Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+                            MY DEAR SISTER
+                                Grace,
+                 MY FAITHFUL HELPER IN LITERARY WORK,
+                THIS STORY IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
+                      BY HER APPRECIATIVE SISTER,
+
+                           MARSHALL SAUNDERS
+
+
+
+
+ACKNOWLEDGMENT
+
+
+Certain chapters of this story first appeared in The _Youth’s
+Companion_. The author wishes to acknowledge the courtesy of the
+editors in permitting her to republish them in the present volume.
+
+Messrs. L. C. Page and Company wish also to acknowledge the courtesy
+of the editors in granting them permission to use the original
+illustrations.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+    CHAPTER                                                         PAGE
+
+        I. THE QUARREL                                                11
+
+       II. GRANDMA’S WATCHWORD                                        23
+
+      III. A SUDDEN COUNTERMARCH                                      34
+
+       IV. A LIFTED BURDEN                                            43
+
+        V. THE TRAINING OF A BOY                                      54
+
+       VI. BONNY’S ORDEAL                                             68
+
+      VII. BERTY IMPARTS INFORMATION                                  76
+
+     VIII. THE HEART OF THE MAYOR                                     88
+
+      IX. THE MAYOR’S DILEMMA                                         99
+
+       X. A GROUNDLESS SUSPICION                                     113
+
+       XI. A PROPOSED SUPPER-PARTY                                   130
+
+      XII. A DISTURBED HOSTESS                                       139
+
+     XIII. AN ANXIOUS MIND                                           150
+
+      XIV. THE OPENING OF THE PARK                                   162
+
+       XV. UP THE RIVER                                              175
+
+      XVI. BERTY’S TRAMP                                             188
+
+     XVII. TOM’S INTERVENTION                                        195
+
+    XVIII. TRAMP PHILOSOPHY                                          204
+
+      XIX. AT THE BOARD OF WATER-WORKS                               217
+
+       XX. SELINA’S WEDDING                                          229
+
+      XXI. TO STRIKE OR NOT TO STRIKE                                244
+
+     XXII. DISCOURAGED                                               257
+
+    XXIII. GRANDMA’S REQUEST                                         262
+
+     XXIV. DOWN THE RIVER                                            270
+
+      XXV. LAST WORDS                                                277
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+    “BENT THEIR HEADS OVER THE PAPER” (_see page 40_)      _Frontispiece_
+
+    “LEANING OVER THE STAIR RAILING”                                  33
+
+    “‘WHY DON’T SOME OF YOU GOOD PEOPLE TRY TO REFORM ME?’”           54
+
+    “‘YOU HAVE TOO MUCH HEART’”                                       92
+
+    “‘YOU’RE DYING TO TEASE ME’”                                     177
+
+    “‘A RIVER STREET DELEGATION,’ SAID TOM”                          235
+
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE QUARREL
+
+
+“I won’t live on my brother-in-law,” said the slight, dark girl.
+
+“Yes, you will,” said the fair-haired beauty, her sister, who was
+standing over her in a somewhat theatrical attitude.
+
+“I will not,” said Berty again. “You think because you have just been
+married you are going to run the family. I tell you, I will not do it.
+I will not live with you.”
+
+“I don’t want to run the family, but I am a year and a half older than
+you, and I know what is for your good better than you do.”
+
+“You do not--you butterfly!”
+
+“Alberta Mary Francesca Gravely--you ought to be ashamed of yourself,”
+said the beauty, in concentrated wrath.
+
+“I’m not ashamed of myself,” replied her sister, scornfully. “I’m
+ashamed of you. You’re just as extravagant as you can be. You spend
+every cent of your husband’s income, and now you want to saddle him
+with a big boy, a girl, and an--”
+
+“An old lady,” said Margaretta.
+
+“Grandma isn’t old. She’s only sixty-five.”
+
+“Sixty-five is old.”
+
+“It is not.”
+
+“Well, now, can you call her young?” said Margaretta. “Can you say she
+is a girl?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Berty, obstinately, “I can call her a girl, or a duck,
+or anything I like, and I can call you a goose.”
+
+“A goose!” repeated Mrs. Stanisfield, chokingly; “oh, this is too much.
+I wish my husband were here.”
+
+“I wish he were,” said Berty, wickedly, “so he could be sorry he mar--”
+
+“Children,” said a sudden voice, “what are you quarrelling about?”
+
+Both girls turned their flushed faces toward the doorway. A little
+shrewd old lady stood there. This was Grandma, one of their bones of
+contention, and this particular bone in deep amusement wanted to laugh,
+but knew better than to do so.
+
+“Won’t you sit down, Margaretta?” she said, calmly coming into the room
+and taking a chair near Berty, who was lounging provokingly on the foot
+of the bed.
+
+It was Grandma’s bed, and they were in Grandma’s room. She had brought
+them up--her two dear orphan granddaughters, together with their
+brother Boniface.
+
+“What are you quarrelling about?” repeated the little old lady, taking
+a silk stocking from her pocket, and beginning to knit in a leisurely
+way.
+
+“We’re quarrelling about keeping the family together,” said Margaretta,
+vehemently, “and I find that family honour is nothing but a rag in
+Berty’s estimation.”
+
+“Well, I’d rather have it a nice clean rag put out of sight,” said
+Berty, sharply, “than a great, big, red flag shaken in everybody’s
+face.”
+
+“Sit down, Margaretta,” said Grandma, soothingly.
+
+“Oh, I am too angry to sit down,” said Margaretta, shaking herself
+slightly. “I got your note saying you had lost your money. I came to
+sympathize and was met with insults. It’s dreadful!”
+
+“Sit down, dear,” said Grandma, gently, pushing a rocking-chair toward
+her.
+
+Margaretta took the chair, and, wiping her white forehead with a morsel
+of lace and muslin, glared angrily at her sister.
+
+“Roger says,” she went on, excitedly, “that you are all--”
+
+“All!” groaned Berty.
+
+“All,” repeated Margaretta, furiously, “or one or two, whichever you
+like, to come and live with us. He insists.”
+
+“No, _you_ insist,” interrupted Berty. “He has too much sense.”
+
+Margaretta gave a low cry. “Isn’t this ingratitude abominable--I hear
+of your misfortune, I come flying to your relief--”
+
+“Dear child,” said Grandma, “I knew you’d come.”
+
+“But what do you make of Berty, Grandma? Do say something cutting. You
+could if you tried. The trouble is, you don’t try.”
+
+Grandma tried not to laugh. She, too, had a tiny handkerchief that she
+pressed against her face, but the merriment would break through.
+
+“You laugh,” said Margaretta, in awe, “and you have just lost every
+cent you own!”
+
+Grandma recovered herself. “Thank fortune, I never chained my
+affections to a house and furniture and a bank-account.”
+
+“Roger says you are the bravest woman he ever saw,” murmured Margaretta.
+
+“Did he say that?” replied Grandma, with twinkling eyes.
+
+“Yes, yes, dear Grandma,” said Margaretta, fondly, “and he told me to
+offer you all a home with us.”
+
+The little old lady smiled again, and this time there was a dimple in
+her cheek. “What a dear grandson-in-law! What a good man!”
+
+“He is just perfection,” said Margaretta, enthusiastically, “but,
+Grandma, darling, tell me your plans! I am just dying to know, and
+Berty has been so provoking.”
+
+“Berty is the mainstay of the family now,” said Grandma,
+good-naturedly; “don’t abuse her.”
+
+“The mainstay!” repeated Margaretta, with a bewildered air; “oh, yes, I
+see. You mean that the little annuity left her by our great-aunt, your
+sister, is all that you have to depend on.”
+
+“Just those few hundred dollars,” said Grandma, tranquilly, “and a
+little more.”
+
+“That is why she is so toploftical,” said Margaretta. “However, it is
+well that she was named for great-aunt Alberta--but, Grandma, dear,
+don’t knit.”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“It is so prosaic, after all you have gone through,” said Margaretta.
+“When I think of your trials, it makes me sick.”
+
+“My trials are nothing to what Job had,” remarked her grandmother. “I
+read of his tribulations and they make mine seem very insignificant.”
+
+“Poor Grandma, you have had about as many as Job.”
+
+“What have I had?” asked the old lady, softly.
+
+Margaretta made a gesture of despair. “Your mother died at your birth.”
+
+“The Lord took her,” said the old lady, gently, “and when I needed a
+mother he sent me a good stepmother.”
+
+“Your father perished in a burning hotel,” said the girl, in a low
+voice.
+
+“And went to heaven in a chariot of fire,” replied Grandma, firmly.
+
+“You married and were happy with your husband.”
+
+“Yes, bless the Lord!”
+
+“But your daughter, our mother, kissed you good-bye one day to go on a
+pleasure excursion with her husband, and never came back--oh, it breaks
+my heart to think of that day--my father and mother lost, both at
+once!” and, dropping miserably on her knees, Margaretta hid her face in
+her grandmother’s lap.
+
+The old lady’s lip trembled, but she said, steadily, “The Lord
+giveth--He also taketh away.”
+
+“And now,” said Margaretta, falteringly, “you are not old, but you have
+come to an age when you are beginning to think about getting old, and
+you have lost everything--everything.”
+
+“All save the greatest thing in the world,” said Grandma, patting the
+bowed head.
+
+“You always had that,” exclaimed Margaretta, lifting her tear-stained
+face. “Everybody has loved you since you were born--how could any one
+help it?”
+
+“If everybody loves me, why is it?” inquired Grandma, guilelessly, as
+she again took up her knitting.
+
+Margaretta wrinkled her fair brows. “I don’t know--I guess it is
+because you don’t talk much, and you seem to like every one, and you
+don’t contradict. You’re exceedingly canny, Grandma.”
+
+“Canny, child?”
+
+“Yes, canny. I don’t know what the Scottish people mean by it, but I
+mean clever, and shrewd, and smart, and quiet, and you keep out of
+scrapes. Now, when I’m with that provoking creature there,” and she
+looked disdainfully at Berty, “I feel as if I were a fifty-cornered
+sort of person. _You_ make me feel as if I were round, and smooth, and
+easy to get on with.”
+
+Grandma picked up a dropped stitch and said nothing.
+
+“If you’d talk more, I’d like it better,” said Margaretta, dolefully,
+“but I dare say I should not get on so well with you.”
+
+“Women do talk too much,” said Grandma, shortly; “we thresh everything
+out with our tongues.”
+
+“Grandma, dear, what are you going to do?” asked Margaretta, coaxingly.
+“Do tell me.”
+
+“Keep the family together,” said Grandma, serenely.
+
+“The old cry,” exclaimed Margaretta. “I’ve heard that ever since I was
+born. What makes you say it so much?”
+
+“Shall I tell you?”
+
+“Yes, yes--it is a regular watchword with you.”
+
+“When my father found himself trapped in that burning building,”
+said Grandma, knitting a little more rapidly than before, “he looked
+down from his window into the street and saw a man that he knew.
+‘Jefferson,’ he called out, ‘will you take a message to my wife?’
+
+“‘I’ll take fifty, sir,’ answered the man, in an agony.
+
+“My father was quite calm. ‘Then, Jefferson,’ he went on, ‘tell my wife
+that I said “God bless her,” with my last breath, and that I want her
+to keep the family together. Mind, Jefferson, she is to keep the family
+together.’
+
+“‘I’ll tell her,’ said the man, and, groaning and dazed with the heat,
+he turned away. Now, that wife was my stepmother, but she did as her
+husband bade her. She kept the family together, in sickness and in
+health, in adversity and in prosperity.”
+
+Margaretta was crying nervously.
+
+“If you will compose yourself, I will go on,” said Grandma.
+
+Margaretta dried her tears.
+
+“Those four dying, living words were branded on my memory, and your
+mother was taught to lisp them with her earliest breath, though she
+was an only child. When she left me that sunny spring day to go on her
+long, last journey, she may have had a presentiment--I do not know--but
+I do know that as she pressed her blooming face to mine, she glanced at
+her three children playing on the grass, and whispered, lovingly, ‘Keep
+the family together.’”
+
+“And you did it,” cried Margaretta, flinging up her head, “you did it
+nobly. You have been father, mother, grandfather and grandmother to us.
+You are a darling.” And seizing the little, nimble hands busy with the
+stocking, she kissed them fervently.
+
+Grandma smiled at her, picked up her work, and went on, briskly: “Keep
+the family together, and you keep the clan together. Keep the clan
+together, and you keep the nation together. Foster national love and
+national pride, and you increase the brotherhood of man.”
+
+“Then the family is the rock on which the nation is built,” said
+Margaretta, her beautiful face a flood of colour.
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“Then I am a helping stone in the building of a nation,” continued
+Margaretta. “I, only a young woman in a small city of this great Union?”
+
+“You are a wife,” said Grandma, composedly, “a young and inexperienced
+one, but still the head of a family.”
+
+Margaretta shivered. “What a responsibility--what kind of a wife am I?”
+
+Grandma maintained a discreet silence.
+
+“Berty says I am extravagant,” exclaimed Margaretta, with a gesture
+toward the bed.
+
+Again her grandmother said nothing.
+
+“Am I, Grandma, darling, am I?” asked the young woman, in a wheedling
+voice.
+
+Grandma’s lips trembled, and her dimple displayed itself again.
+
+“I am,” cried Margaretta, springing up and clasping her hands
+despairingly. “I spend all Roger gives me. We have no fortune back of
+us, only his excellent income from the iron works. If that were to
+fail, we should be ruined. I am a careless, poorly-turned stone in the
+foundation of this mighty nation. I must shape and strengthen myself,
+and, Grandma, dear, let me begin by helping you and Berty and Bonny.
+You will have to give up this house--oh, my darling Grandma, how can
+you--this handsome house that grandfather built for you? What will you
+do without your velvet carpets, and lace curtains, and palms and roses?
+Oh, you will come to me! I shall save enough to keep you, and I shall
+lose my reason if you don’t.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+GRANDMA’S WATCHWORD
+
+
+“See here,” said Grandma, feeling in her pocket. “Look at these
+telegrams.”
+
+Margaretta hastily ran her eye over them. “I don’t understand.”
+
+“Let me explain,” said Grandma, softly. “Brother John sends regrets for
+loss--will guarantee so many hundreds a year. Brother Henry sympathizes
+deeply to the extent of a tenth of his income. Sister Mary and Sister
+Lucy will come to see me as soon as possible. Substantial financial aid
+to be reckoned on.”
+
+“Oh, Grandma! Grandma!” said the girl, still only half-enlightened.
+“What do they mean?”
+
+Grandma smiled complacently. “You notice that not one of them offers me
+a home, though, Heaven knows, their homes are as wide as their hearts.
+They are not rich, not one is exceedingly rich, yet they all offer me
+a good part of their respective incomes. That is the outcome of ‘Keep
+the family together.’”
+
+“Oh! oh! oh!” exclaimed Margaretta. “They know how you love us. They
+want you to keep up a home for us. They will support you.”
+
+“Exactly,” said Grandma.
+
+“And will you take all that money?”
+
+“No, child, not all; some of it, though. I have helped them. I will do
+it again, if I can.”
+
+“Isn’t that lovely!” cried Margaretta. “It is almost worth while being
+unfortunate to call out such goodness as that. Now, Grandma, dear, let
+us talk seriously. You will have to give up this house.”
+
+“It is given up. My lawyer was here this morning.”
+
+“Roger is coming this evening to see you--will you sell all the
+furniture?”
+
+“I shall have to.”
+
+“Oh, dear! Well, you won’t need it with us.”
+
+“We cannot go to you, Margaretta,” said Grandma, quietly.
+
+“Oh, why not?”
+
+“It would be too great a burden on Roger.”
+
+“Only three persons, Grandma.”
+
+“Roger is a young man. He has lately started housekeeping and family
+life. Let him work out his plans along his own lines. It will be better
+not to join households unless necessary.”
+
+“He just loves you, Grandma.”
+
+“And I reciprocate, but I think it better not to amalgamate my
+quicksilver Berty with another stronger metal just now.”
+
+“Where is she?” asked Margaretta, turning her head.
+
+“She slipped out some time ago.”
+
+“Roger gets on well with her, Grandma.”
+
+“I know he does. By stronger metal, I meant you. Being the elder, you
+have rather absorbed Berty. She will develop more quickly alone.”
+
+“Do you want to board?”
+
+“There are two kinds of life in America,” said Grandma, “boarding-house
+life and home-life. Boarding-house life vulgarizes, home life ennobles.
+As long as God gives me breath, I’ll keep house, if I have only three
+rooms to do it in.”
+
+“But, Grandma, dear, you will have so little to keep house on. Wouldn’t
+it be better to go to some first-class boarding-house with just a few
+nice people?”
+
+“Who might be my dearest foes,” said Grandma, tranquilly. “I’ve rubbed
+shoulders with such people in hotels before now.”
+
+“Grandma, you haven’t any enemies.”
+
+“Anybody that is worth anything has enemies.”
+
+“Well,” said Margaretta, with a sigh, “what are you going to do? You
+can’t afford to keep house in such style as this. You won’t want to go
+into a poor neighbourhood.”
+
+“Give me a house and I’ll make the neighbourhood,” said Grandma,
+decidedly.
+
+“You have already decided on one?” said her granddaughter, suspiciously.
+
+Grandma smiled. “Not altogether decided.”
+
+“I don’t like your tone,” exclaimed Margaretta. “You have something
+dreadful to tell me.”
+
+“Berty was out this morning and found a large, old-fashioned house with
+big open fireplaces. From it we would have a fine view of the river.”
+
+“Tell me where it is,” said Margaretta, brokenly.
+
+“It is where the first people of the town used to live when I was a
+girl.”
+
+“It isn’t down by the fish-market--oh, don’t tell me that!”
+
+“Just a block away from it, dear.”
+
+Mrs. Roger Stanisfield gave a subdued shriek. “This is Berty’s doing.”
+
+Her grandmother laid down her knitting. “Margaretta, imagine Berty in
+a fashionable boarding-house--in two rooms, for we could not afford to
+take more. Imagine the boarding-house keeper when Berty would come in
+trailing a lame dog or sick cat? The Lord has given me grace to put up
+with these things, and even to sympathize and admire, but I have had a
+large house and several servants.”
+
+“But some boarding-house people are agreeable,” moaned Margaretta.
+
+“Agreeable!--they are martyrs, but I am not going to help martyrize
+them.”
+
+“I quarrel with Berty,” murmured Margaretta, “but I always make up with
+her. She is my own dear sister.”
+
+“Keep the family together,” said Grandma, shrewdly, “and in order to
+keep it together let it sometimes drift apart.”
+
+“Grandma, you speak in riddles.”
+
+“Margaretta, you are too direct. I want Berty to stand alone for
+awhile. She has as much character as you.”
+
+“She has more,” sighed Margaretta. “She won’t mind a word I say--she
+looks just like you, Grandma, dear. You like her better than you do
+me.”
+
+“Perhaps I do,” said the old lady, calmly. “Perhaps she needs it.”
+
+“And you are going to let her drag you down to that awful
+neighbourhood.”
+
+“It isn’t awful--a dose of River Street will be a fitting antidote to a
+somewhat enervating existence here on Grand Avenue.”
+
+“You want to make a philanthropist or a city missionary of my poor
+sister.”
+
+“She might do worse,” said Grandma, coolly.
+
+“But she won’t be one,” said Margaretta, desperately. “She is too
+self-centred. She is taken with the large house and the good view. She
+will be disgusted with the dirty people.”
+
+“We shall see,” said Grandma, calmly.
+
+“You will only take the house for a short time, of course.”
+
+“I shall probably stay there until eternity claims me.”
+
+“Grandma!”
+
+“One little old woman in this big republic will not encourage home
+faithlessness,” said Grandma, firmly.
+
+“Dearest of grandmothers, what do you mean?”
+
+“How the old homes must suffer,” said Grandma, musingly. “Families
+are being reared within their walls, then suddenly the mother takes a
+caprice--we must move.”
+
+“But all houses are not equally convenient.”
+
+“Make them so,” said the little lady, emphatically. “Have some
+affection for your roof-tree, your hearthstone. Have one home, not a
+dozen. Let your children pin their memories to one place.”
+
+Margaretta fell into silence, and sat for a long time watching in
+fascination the quick, active fingers manipulating the silk stocking.
+
+“You are a wonderful woman,” she said, at last.
+
+“Do you really think so?”
+
+“Oh, yes, yes,” said Margaretta, enthusiastically. “You let people find
+out things for themselves. Now I don’t believe in your heart of hearts
+you want to go to River Street.”
+
+For the first time a shade of sadness came over the face of the older
+woman. “Set not your affections on earthly things,” she said, “and
+yet I love my home---- However, it is all right, Margaretta. If the
+Lord sends me to River Street, I can go. If He tells me to love River
+Street, I shall make a point of doing so. If I feel that River Street
+discipline is not necessary for me at my time of life, I shall console
+myself with the thought that it is necessary for Berty.”
+
+“Once,” said Margaretta, keenly, “there was a young girl who teased her
+grandmother to take her to Paris in the dead of winter. The grandmother
+didn’t want to go, but she went, and when the girl found herself shut
+up below on a plunging steamer that was trying to weather a cyclonic
+gale, she said, ‘Grandma, I’ll never overpersuade you again.’”
+
+“And did she keep her promise?” asked Grandma, meaningly.
+
+Margaretta sprang to her feet, laughing nervously. “Dearest,” she said,
+“go to River Street, take your house. I’ll help you to the best of my
+ability. I see in advance what you are doing it for. Not only Berty,
+but the whole family will be benefited. You think we have been too
+prosperous, too self-satisfied--now, don’t you?”
+
+Grandma smiled mischievously. “Well, child, since you ask me, I must
+say that since your marriage I don’t see in you much passion for the
+good of others. Roger spoils you,” she added, apologetically.
+
+“I will be better,” said the beautiful girl, “and, Grandma, why haven’t
+you talked more to me--preached more. I don’t remember any sermons,
+except ‘Keep the family together.’”
+
+“It was all there, only the time hadn’t come for you to see it. You
+know how it is in this new invention of wireless telegraphy--a receiver
+must be tuned to the same pitch as that of the transmitter, or a
+message cannot pass between.”
+
+A brilliant expression burst like a flood of sunlight over the girl’s
+face. “I’m tuned,” she said, gaily. “I’m getting older and have more
+sense. I can take the message, and even pass it on. Good-bye, best of
+Grandmas. I’m going to make my peace with Berty.”
+
+“Keep the family together,” said Grandma, demurely.
+
+“Berty, Berty, where are you?” cried Margaretta, whisking her draperies
+out into the hall and down-stairs. “I am such a sinner. I was
+abominably sharp with you.”
+
+“Hush,” said Berty, suddenly.
+
+She had come into the hall below and was standing holding something in
+her hand.
+
+“What is it?” asked Margaretta. “Oh!” and she gave a little scream, “a
+mouse!”
+
+“He is dead,” said Berty, quickly, “nothing matters to him now. Poor
+little thing, how he suffered. He was caught in a cruel trap.”
+
+Margaretta gazed scrutinizingly at her. “You have a good heart, Berty.
+I’m sorry I quarrelled with you.”
+
+“I forgot all about it,” said Berty, simply, “but I don’t like to
+quarrel with you, Margaretta. It usually gives me a bad feeling inside
+me.”
+
+“You want to go to River Street?” said Margaretta, abruptly.
+
+“Oh, yes, we shall be so near the river. I am going to keep my boat and
+canoe. The launch will have to go.”
+
+Margaretta suppressed a smile. “How about the neighbourhood?”
+
+“Don’t like it, but we shall keep to ourselves.”
+
+“And keep the family together,” said Margaretta.
+
+“Yes,” said Berty, soberly. “Trust Grandma to do that. I wish you and
+Roger could live with us.”
+
+“Bless your heart,” said Margaretta, affectionately throwing an arm
+around her.
+
+[Illustration: “LEANING OVER THE STAIR RAILING”]
+
+“But you’ll come to see us often?” said Berty, anxiously.
+
+“Every day; and, Berty, I prophesy peace and prosperity to you and
+Grandma--and now good-bye, I’m going home to save.”
+
+“To save?”
+
+“Yes, to save money--to keep my family together,” and holding her head
+well in the air, Margaretta tripped through the long, cool hall out
+into the sunlight.
+
+“Thank God they have made up their quarrel,” said Grandma, who was
+leaning over the stair railing. “Nothing conquers a united family!
+And now will Margaretta have the strength of mind to keep to her new
+resolution?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+A SUDDEN COUNTERMARCH
+
+
+Roger Stanisfield was plodding wearily along the avenue. He was not
+aware what an exquisite summer evening it was. He carried his own
+troubled atmosphere with him.
+
+Slowly going up the broad flight of steps leading to his house, he
+drew out his latch-key. As he unlocked the door, a bevy of girls came
+trooping through the hall--some of his wife’s friends. His face cleared
+as he took off his hat and stood aside for them to pass.
+
+For a minute the air was gay with merry parting, then the girls were
+gone, and he went slowly up to his room.
+
+“Mrs. Stanisfield is in the dining-room, sir,” said a servant,
+addressing him a few minutes later, as he stood in the hall with an air
+of great abstraction. “Dinner has just been served.”
+
+“Oh, Roger,” said his wife, as he entered the room where she sat at
+the table, “I didn’t know you’d come! You told me not to wait for you.
+I shall be glad when you take up your old habit of coming home in the
+middle of the afternoon.”
+
+“I am very busy now,” he muttered, as he took his place.
+
+“Does your head ache?” inquired Margaretta, when several courses had
+been passed through in silence on his part.
+
+“Yes, it is splitting.”
+
+Young Mrs. Stanisfield bent her fair head over her plate, and
+discreetly made only an occasional remark until the pudding was
+removed, and the table-maid had withdrawn from the room. Then she
+surreptitiously examined her husband’s face.
+
+He was thoughtfully surveying the fruit on the table.
+
+“Margaretta,” he said, boyishly, “I don’t care much for puddings and
+pastry.”
+
+“Neither do I,” she said, demurely.
+
+“I was wondering,” he said, hesitatingly, “whether we couldn’t do
+without puddings for awhile and just have nuts and raisins, or
+fruit--What are you laughing at?”
+
+“At your new rôle of housekeeper. You usually don’t seem to know what
+is on the table.”
+
+“I have a good appetite.”
+
+“Yes, but you don’t criticize. You just eat what is set before you.
+I am sure it has escaped your masculine observation that for several
+weeks past we have had only one dish in the pastry course.”
+
+“Well, what of it?”
+
+“Why, we always used to have two or three--pudding, pie, and jelly or
+creams. Now we never have pudding and pie at the same time.”
+
+“What is that for?” he asked.
+
+“Oh, for something,” she said, quietly. “Now tell me what has gone
+wrong with you.”
+
+“Nothing has gone wrong with me,” he said, irritably.
+
+“With your business then.”
+
+He did not reply, and, rising, she said, “This sitting at table is
+tiresome when one eats nothing. Let us go to the drawing-room and have
+coffee.”
+
+“I don’t want coffee,” he said, sauntering after her.
+
+“Neither do I,” she replied. “Shall we go out in the garden? It was
+delightfully cool there before dinner.”
+
+“What a crowd of women you had here,” he said, a little peevishly, as
+he followed her.
+
+“Hadn’t I?” and she smiled. “They had all been at a garden-party at
+the Everests, and as I wasn’t there they came to find out the reason.”
+
+“You don’t mean to say you missed a social function?” said her husband,
+sarcastically.
+
+“Yes, dear boy, I did, and I have before, and I am going to again.”
+
+Mr. Stanisfield laughed shortly. “You sound like your sister Berty.”
+
+“Well, I should love to be like her. She is a dear little sister.”
+
+“But not as dear as her sister.”
+
+“Thank you,” said Margaretta, prettily, turning and curtseying to him,
+as he followed her along the garden paths. “Now, here we are among the
+roses. Just drag out those two chairs from the arbour, or will you get
+into the hammock?”
+
+“I’ll take the hammock,” he said, wearily. “I feel as if I were falling
+to pieces.”
+
+“Let me arrange some cushions under your head so--this cool breeze will
+soon drive the business fog from your brain.”
+
+“No, it won’t--the fog is too heavy.”
+
+“What kind of a fog is it?” asked Margaretta, cautiously.
+
+Her husband sat up in the hammock, and stared at her with feverish
+eyes. “Margaretta, I think we had better give up this house and take a
+smaller one.”
+
+“I knew it,” said Margaretta, triumphantly. “I knew you were worried
+about your affairs!”
+
+“Then you won’t feel so surprised,” he said, “when I tell you that we
+can’t stand this pace. We’ve had some heavy losses down at the iron
+works lately--mind you don’t say anything about it.”
+
+“Indeed I won’t,” she replied, proudly.
+
+“Father and I finished going over the books to-day with Mackintosh.
+We’ve got to put on the brakes. I--I hate to tell you,” and he averted
+his face. “You are so young.”
+
+Margaretta did not reply to him, and, eager to see her face, he
+presently turned his own.
+
+The sun had set, but she was radiant in a kind of afterglow.
+
+“Margaretta, you don’t understand,” he faltered. “It will be a
+tremendous struggle for you to give up luxuries to which you have been
+accustomed, but we’ve either got to come down to bare poles here, or
+move to a smaller house.”
+
+“What a misfortune!” she said.
+
+His face fell.
+
+“For you to have a headache about this matter,” she went on,
+gleefully. “I don’t call it a small one, for it isn’t, but if you knew
+everything!”
+
+“I know enough to make me feel like a cheat,” he blurted, wriggling
+about in the hammock. “I took you from a good home. I never wanted you
+to feel an anxiety, and now the first thing I’ve got to put you down to
+rigid economy. You see, father and I have to spend a certain amount on
+the business, or we’d be out of it in the war of competition, and we’ve
+both decided that expenses must be curtailed in our homes rather than
+in the iron works.”
+
+“That shows you are good business men,” said Margaretta, promptly. “You
+are as good business men as husbands.”
+
+“Margaretta,” said her husband, “you puzzle me. I expected a scene, and
+upon my word you look happy over it--but you don’t realize it, poor
+child!”
+
+Margaretta smiled silently at him for a few seconds, then she said,
+roguishly, “I am going to give you a little surprise. You didn’t see me
+snatch this sheet of paper from my new cabinet when we left the house?”
+
+“No, I did not.”
+
+“Oh, what a nice little paper! What a precious little paper!” said
+Margaretta, gaily, clasping it. “Can you see what is written on it,
+Roger? No, you can’t very well in this light.”
+
+“Yes, I can,” said the young man, with a weary, amused smile. “Give it
+to me.”
+
+She drew her seat closer to the hammock, and both bent their heads over
+the paper.
+
+“Animus saved by Mrs. Roger Stanisfield during the month of July,” read
+Roger, stumblingly--“to be poured on my head, I suppose.”
+
+“No, no, not animus--amounts.”
+
+“Oh, I see, you want to comfort me by showing what an economist you
+are. I dare say you have saved five whole dollars through the month.
+What is the first item? Saved on new dress, one hundred dollars. Good
+gracious--how much did the dress cost?”
+
+“I didn’t get it,” she replied, with immense satisfaction. “I needed
+one, or thought I did, and Madame Bouvard, that French dressmaker from
+New York, who came here last year, said she would make me one for one
+hundred dollars. Now some time ago, just after dear Grandma lost her
+money, she gave me a great shock.”
+
+“Grandma did?” asked her husband, in surprise.
+
+“No, she didn’t, she made me give it to myself. That is Grandma’s
+way, you know. She doesn’t preach. Well, after this electric shock I
+was horrified to find out that I was a frivolous, extravagant person.
+I began to think hard, then I got this little piece of paper--and, oh,
+Roger, won’t you get me a regular business book, and make red lines
+down the sides, and show me how to keep proper accounts?”
+
+“I will, but what about the dress?”
+
+“I had ordered it, but I went to Madame Bouvard. I said, frankly, ‘I
+can’t pay as much as a hundred dollars for a gown.’
+
+“‘You shall have it for eighty,’ she said.
+
+“I said, ‘Please let me off altogether. I want to save a little on my
+outfit this summer, but I promise to come to you the first time I want
+a gown.’
+
+“As soon as I said it I bit my lip. ‘Oh, Madame Bouvard,’ I said, ‘you
+are the most satisfactory dressmaker I have ever had, but I don’t know
+whether I can afford to come to you again.’
+
+“She is just a plain little woman, but when she saw how badly I felt,
+her face lighted up like an angel’s. ‘Madame,’ she said, ‘do not take
+your custom from me. You have been the best lady I have worked for in
+Riverport. Why, my girls say when your fair head passes the glass door
+of the workroom that it casts a ray of sunshine in upon them’--just
+think of that, Roger,--a ray of sunshine. I was quite pleased.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+A LIFTED BURDEN
+
+
+He laid a hand on the fair head, then hastily bent over the paper.
+
+“I was pleased, Roger, because I didn’t know that dressmakers or their
+sewing-girls ever cared for the people they work for; and what do
+you think she went on to say?--‘Madame, don’t go to a second-class
+establishment. I know you like first-class things. Come to me when you
+want a gown, and it shall be given to you at cost price, with just a
+trifle to satisfy you for my work’--wasn’t that sweet in her, Roger? I
+just caught her hand and squeezed it, and then she laid a finger on her
+lips--‘Not a word of this to any one, madame.’ I sent her a basket of
+flowers the next day.”
+
+“You are a good child,” said her husband, huskily.
+
+“Now go on to the next item,” said Margaretta, jubilantly.
+
+“‘Butter, twenty dollars’--what in the name of common sense does that
+mean?”
+
+“Queer, isn’t it?” laughed Margaretta. “I’ll go back to the beginning
+and explain. You know, Roger, I am not such a terribly strong person,
+and I do love to lie in bed in the morning. It is so delicious when you
+know you ought to get up, to roll yourself in the soft clothes and have
+another nap! You remember that I had got into a great way of having my
+breakfast in bed. Well, madam in bed meant carelessness in the kitchen.
+We have honest servants, Roger, but they are heedless. After my shock
+from Grandma about economy, I said, ‘I will reform. I will watch the
+cents, and the cents will watch the dollars.’
+
+“Now, to catch the first stray cent, it was necessary to get up early.
+I just hated to do it, but I made myself. I sprang out of bed in the
+morning, had my cold plunge, and was down before you, and it was far
+more interesting to have company for breakfast than to have no one,
+wasn’t it?”
+
+“Well, rather.”
+
+“You good boy. You never complained. Well, cook was immensely surprised
+to have a call from me before breakfast. One morning I found her making
+pastry, and putting the most delicious-looking yellow butter in it.
+‘Why, that’s our table butter,’ I said, ‘isn’t it, that comes from
+Cloverdale, and costs a ridiculous amount?’
+
+“She said it was.
+
+“‘Why don’t you use cooking-butter, Jane?’ I asked; ‘it’s just as good,
+isn’t it?’
+
+“‘Well, ma’am, there’s nothing impure about it,’ she said, ‘but I know
+you like everything of the best, so I put this in.’
+
+“‘Jane,’ I said, ‘never do it again. I’m going to economize, and I want
+you to help me. If you can’t, I must send you away and get some one
+else.’
+
+“She laughed--you know what a fat, good-natured creature she is--and
+seemed to think it a kind of joke that I should want to economize.
+
+“‘Jane,’ I said, ‘I’m in earnest.’
+
+“Then she sobered down. ‘Truth, and I’ll help you, ma’am, if you really
+want me to. There’s lots of ways I can save for you, but I thought you
+didn’t care. You always seem so open-handed.’
+
+“‘Well, Jane,’ I said, ‘I don’t want to be mean, and I don’t want
+adulterated food, but my husband and I are young, and we want to save
+something for old age. Now you’ll help us, won’t you?’
+
+“‘Honour bright, I will, ma’am,’ she said, and I believed her. I can’t
+stay in the kitchen and watch her, but she watches herself, and just
+read that list of groceries and see what else she has saved.”
+
+“How have you found out the exact list of your economies?” asked Roger,
+curiously.
+
+“By comparing my bills of this month with those of the month before.
+For instance, sugar was so many dollars in June; in July it is so many
+dollars less. Of course, we must take into account that we have been
+entertaining less. Have you noticed it?”
+
+“Yes, but I thought it only a passing whim.”
+
+“Some whims don’t pass, they stay,” said Margaretta, shaking her head.
+“Go on, Roger.”
+
+“One hundred and fifty dollars saved in not entertaining Miss
+Gregory--pray who is Miss Gregory?”
+
+“That society belle from Newport who has been staying with the
+Darley-Jameses.”
+
+“How does she come into your expenditures?”
+
+“She doesn’t come in,” said Margaretta, with satisfaction. “I haven’t
+done a thing for her beyond being polite and talking to her whenever I
+get a chance, and, oh, yes--I did give her a drive.”
+
+“Well, but--”
+
+“Let me explain. If I hadn’t been taken with a fit of economy, I would,
+in the natural order of things, have made a dinner for Miss Gregory. I
+would have had a picnic, and perhaps a big evening party. Think what it
+would have cost--you remember Mrs. Handfell?”
+
+Her husband made a face.
+
+“You never liked her, and I did wrong to have her here so much. Well,
+Roger, do you know I spent a large sum of money in entertaining that
+woman? I am ashamed to tell you how much. I had her here, morning,
+noon, and night. I took her up the river--you remember the decorated
+boats and the delightful music. It was charming, but we could not
+afford it, and when I went to New York she met me on Fifth Avenue, and
+said, ‘Oh, how do you do--so glad to see you. Be sure to call while you
+are here. My day is Friday.’ Then she swept away. That was a society
+woman who had graciously allowed me to amuse her during her summer trip
+to Maine. I was so hurt about it that I never told you.”
+
+“What an empty head,” said Roger, picking up the list.
+
+“It taught me a lesson,” continued his wife. “Now go on--do read the
+other things.”
+
+His eyes had run down to the total. “Whew, Margaretta!--you don’t mean
+to say you have saved all this in a month?”
+
+“Yes, I do.”
+
+“I haven’t felt any tightening in your household arrangements. Why, at
+what a rate were we living?”
+
+“At a careless rate,” said Margaretta, seriously, “a careless,
+slipshod rate. I bought everything I wanted. Flowers, in spite of
+our greenhouse, fruit and vegetables out of season, in spite of our
+garden, but now I look in the shop windows and say with a person I was
+reading about the other day, ‘Why, how many things there are I can do
+without,’--and with all my economy I have yet managed to squeeze out
+something for Grandma. I just made her take it.”
+
+Roger’s face flushed. “Margaretta, if you will keep this thing going,
+we won’t have to give up this house.”
+
+“I’ll keep it going,” said Margaretta, solemnly, “you shall not leave
+this house. It would be a blow to your honest pride.”
+
+The young man was deeply moved, and, lifting his face to the pale,
+rising young moon, he murmured, “Thank God for a good wife.” Then he
+turned to her. “I wish some other men starting out in life had such a
+helper as you.”
+
+“Oh, wish them a better one,” said Margaretta, humbly; “but I know what
+you mean, Roger. A man cannot succeed unless his wife helps him.”
+
+“Sometimes it makes me furious,” said Roger, warmly. “I see fellows
+down-town, young fellows, too, working early and late, straining every
+nerve to keep up the extravagance of some thoughtless young wife. Why
+don’t the women think? Men hate to complain.”
+
+Margaretta hung her head. Then she lifted it, and said, apologetically,
+“Perhaps they haven’t had wise grandmothers.”
+
+Roger smiled. “Upon my word, a man in choosing a wife ought to look
+first at the girl’s grandmother.”
+
+    “‘My grandma lives on yonder little green,
+    Fine old lady as ever was seen.’”
+
+chanted a gay voice.
+
+“Bonny,” exclaimed Margaretta, flying out of her seat.
+
+They were a remarkable pair as they came up the gravel walk
+together--the tall lad and the tall girl, both light-haired, both blue
+of eyes, and pink, and white, and smooth as to complexion like a pair
+of babies.
+
+The elder man stared at them admiringly. Bonny was the baby of the
+orphan family that the sterling old grandmother had brought up. Strange
+that the grandson of such a woman had so little character, and Roger
+sighed slightly. Bonny was a mere boy, thoughtless, fond of fun, and
+too much of a favourite with the gay lads about the town. However, he
+might develop, and Roger’s face brightened.
+
+“Oh, you dear Bonny,” said Margaretta, pressing his arm, “it was so
+good in you to remember your promise to come and tell me about your
+afternoon on the river. You had a pleasant time, of course.”
+
+“Glorious,” said the lad. “The water was like glass, and we had a
+regular fleet of canoes. I say, Margaretta, I like that chap from
+Boston. Do something for him, won’t you?”
+
+“Certainly, Bonny, what do you want me to do?”
+
+“Make him some kind of a water-party.”
+
+Margaretta became troubled. “How many people do you want to invite?”
+
+“Oh, about sixty.”
+
+“Don’t you think if we had three or four of your chosen friends he
+would enjoy it just as much?”
+
+“No, I don’t; what do you think, Roger?”
+
+“I don’t know about him. I hate crowds myself.”
+
+“I like them,” said Bonny. “Come, Margaretta, decide.”
+
+“Oh, my dear, spoiled boy,” said the girl, in perplexity, “I would
+give a party to all Riverport if it would please you, but I am trying
+dreadfully hard to economize. Those large things cost so much.”
+
+Bonny opened wide his big blue eyes. “You are not getting mean,
+Margaretta?”
+
+“No, no, my heart feels more generous than ever, but I see that this
+eternal entertaining on a big scale doesn’t amount to much. Once in
+awhile a huge affair is nice, but to keep it up week after week is a
+waste of time and energy, and you don’t make real friends.”
+
+“All right,” said Bonny, good-naturedly. “I’ll take him for a swim.
+That won’t cost anything.”
+
+“Now, Bonny,” said Margaretta, in an injured voice, “don’t
+misunderstand me. We’ll have a little excursion on the river, if you
+like, with half a dozen of your friends, and I’ll give you a good big
+party this summer--you would rather have it later on, wouldn’t you,
+when there are more girls visiting here?”
+
+“Yes, indeed, let us wait for the girls,” said Bonny.
+
+“And in the meantime,” continued Margaretta, “bring the Boston boy here
+as often as you like, to drop in to meals. I shall be delighted to see
+him, and so will you, Roger, won’t you?”
+
+“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the young man, who had
+gone off into a reverie, “but it’s all right if you say so.”
+
+Bonny laughed at him, then, jumping up, said, “I must be going.”
+
+“Where’s the dog, Margaretta?” asked Roger. “I’ll walk home with the
+boy.”
+
+“But your headache,” said his wife.
+
+“Is all gone--that prescription cured it,” said the young man, with a
+meaning glance at the sheet of note-paper clasped in his wife’s hand.
+
+She smiled and waved it at him. “Wives’ cold cash salve for the cure of
+husbands’ headaches.”
+
+“What kind of a salve is that?” asked Bonny, curiously.
+
+“Wait till you have a house of your own, Bonny,” said his sister,
+caressingly, “and I will tell you.”
+
+Then, as the man and the boy walked slowly away, she slipped into the
+hammock and turned her face up to the lovely evening sky.
+
+“Little moon, I call you to witness I have begun a countermarch. I’m
+never more going to spend all the money I get, even if I have to earn
+some of it with my own hands!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE TRAINING OF A BOY
+
+
+Roger, sitting in his office at the iron works, from time to time
+raised his grave face to look at Bonny, who was fidgeting restlessly
+about the room.
+
+Next to his wife, Roger loved his young brother-in-law,--the
+fair-haired, genial lad, everybody’s favourite, no one’s enemy but his
+own.
+
+He wondered why the boy had come to him. Probably he was in some scrape
+and wanted help.
+
+Presently the boy flung himself round upon him. “Roger--why don’t some
+of you good people try to reform me?”
+
+Roger leaned back in his chair and stared at the disturbed young face.
+
+“Come, now, don’t say that you don’t think I need reformation,” said
+the boy, mockingly.
+
+“I guess we all need that,” replied his brother-in-law, soberly, “but
+you come of pretty good stock, Bonny.”
+
+[Illustration: “‘WHY DON’T SOME OF YOU GOOD PEOPLE TRY TO REFORM
+ME?’”]
+
+“The stock’s all right. That’s why I’m afraid of breaking loose and
+disgracing it.”
+
+“What have you been doing?” asked Roger, kindly.
+
+“I haven’t been doing anything,” said the boy, sullenly. “It’s what I
+may do that I’m afraid of.”
+
+Roger said nothing. He was just casting about in his mind for a
+suitable reply, when the boy went on. “If you’ve been brought up just
+like a parson, and had all kinds of sentiments and good thoughts lived
+at you, and then don’t rise to the goodness you’re bursting with, it’s
+bound to rebel and give you a bad time.”
+
+The man, having got a clue to the boy’s mental trouble, hastened to
+say, “You act all right. I shouldn’t say you were unhappy.”
+
+“Act!” repeated the boy. “Act, acting, actors, actresses,--that’s what
+we all are. Now I’d like to have a good time. I don’t think I’m far out
+of the way; but there’s Grandma--she just makes me rage. Such goings
+on!”
+
+“What has your grandmother been doing?”
+
+“She hasn’t done much, and she hasn’t said a word, but, hang it!
+there’s more in what Grandma doesn’t say than there is in what other
+women do say.”
+
+“You’re right there, my boy.”
+
+“Now, what did she want to go give me a latch-key for?” asked the boy,
+in an aggrieved tone, “just after I’d started coming in a little later
+than usual? Why don’t she say, ‘My dear boy, you are on the road to
+ruin. Staying out late is the first step. May I not beg of you to do
+better, my dear young grandson? Otherwise you will bring down my gray
+hairs with sorrow to the grave.’”
+
+“This is what she didn’t say?” asked Roger, gravely.
+
+“This is what she didn’t say,” repeated the boy, crossly, “but this is
+what she felt. I know her! The latch-key was a bit of tomfoolery. An
+extra lump of sugar in my coffee is more tomfoolery.”
+
+“Do you want her to preach to you?”
+
+“No,” snarled the handsome lad. “I don’t want her to preach, and I
+don’t want you to preach, and I don’t want my sisters to preach, but I
+want some one to do something for me.”
+
+“State your case in a more businesslike way,” said the elder man,
+gravely. “I don’t understand.”
+
+“You know I’m in the National Bank,” said Bonny, shortly.
+
+“Certainly I know that.”
+
+“Grandma put me there a year ago. I don’t object to the bank, if I’ve
+got to work. It’s as easy as anything I could get, and I hate study.”
+
+Roger nodded.
+
+“Being in the bank, I’d like to rise,” Bonny went on, irritably, “but
+somehow or other there seems a little prejudice in the air against me.
+Has any one said anything to you?”
+
+“Not a word.”
+
+The boy drew a long breath. “Perhaps it’s partly imagination. They’re
+very down on fun in our bank. Now when hours are over, and I come out,
+there’s a whole gang of nice fellows ready to do anything that’s going.
+Sometimes we play billiards. On fine days we’re always on the river.
+There’s no harm in that, is there?”
+
+“Not that I see,” observed Roger, cautiously.
+
+“Then, when evening comes, and we want to sit down somewhere, we have a
+quiet little game of cards. There’s no harm in that, is there?”
+
+“Do you play for money?”
+
+“Sometimes--well, perhaps nearly always, but there’s no harm in that,
+is there?”
+
+“Let me hear the rest of your story.”
+
+“Sometimes I’m late getting home. We get interested, but that’s
+nothing. I’m almost a man. Five hours’ sleep is enough for me.”
+
+A long pause followed, broken finally by Roger, who said, calmly, “You
+have given an account of your time. What is wrong with it?”
+
+“It’s all wrong,” blurted the boy, “and you know it.”
+
+“I haven’t said so.”
+
+“But you feel it. You’re just like Grandma--bother it! Don’t I know she
+thinks I ought to spend my evenings at home, reading about banking, so
+as to work myself up to a president’s chair?”
+
+“Don’t you get any time for reading through the day?”
+
+“How can I?” said the boy, eloquently, “when I was almost brought up
+out-of-doors, and as soon as the bank closes every square inch of flesh
+of me is squealing to get on the river. Now what do you think I ought
+to do?”
+
+“It’s a puzzling case,” said Roger, with a slow shake of his head.
+“According to your own account, you are leading a blameless life. Yet,
+according to the same account, you are not happy in it, though no one
+is finding fault with you.”
+
+“No one finding fault!” said the boy, sulkily. “Why, the very stones in
+the street stare at me and say, ‘Animal! Animal! you don’t care for
+anything but fun. You’d skip the bank every day if you dared.’”
+
+“Why don’t you?”
+
+Bonny gave himself a resounding thwack on the chest. “Because,” he
+said, “Grandma has planted something here that won’t be downed.
+Something that won’t let me have a good time when I know she isn’t
+pleased with me. Sometimes I get so mad that I think I will run away,
+but that wouldn’t do any good, for she’d run with me. She’d haunt my
+dreams--I don’t know what I’m going to do!”
+
+Roger, carefully concealing all signs of compassion, gazed steadily
+at the distressed face. “Do you want to break away from your set?” he
+asked, at last.
+
+“No, I don’t. They’re good fellows.”
+
+“Well, what are you going to do about that bad feeling inside of you?”
+
+“I don’t know,” said Bonny, bitterly. “I know Grandma thinks I’m going
+to be like Walt Everest, big and fat and jolly, and everybody’s chum,
+who can sing a song, and dance a jig, and never does any business, and
+never will amount to anything.”
+
+“Did she ever say so?”
+
+“No,” growled the boy, “but don’t I tell you I know what Grandma’s
+thinking about?”
+
+“How does your sister Berty take you?” asked Roger.
+
+“Just like Grandma,” blazed the boy, in sudden wrath, “never says a
+word but a pleasant one, catches me in a corner and kisses me--kisses
+me!--just think of it!”
+
+Roger thought deeply for a few minutes, while Bonny took up his
+miserable ramble about the room.
+
+“Look here, boy,” he said, finally. “You do as I tell you for a week.
+Begin from this minute. Read that magazine, then go home with me to
+dinner. After dinner come back here and help me. I’m working on some
+accounts for a time. That will be an excuse to the boys for not playing
+cards.”
+
+Bonny’s face was clearing. “A good excuse, too,” he muttered. “If I
+said I was going with Grandma or the girls, they’d laugh at me.”
+
+“You tell them you are working on my books, and I am paying you. That
+will shut their mouths, and you’ll not object to the extra money.”
+
+“I guess I won’t. I’m hard pushed all the time.”
+
+“Don’t you save anything from your salary for Grandma?” asked Roger,
+keenly.
+
+“How can I?” said the boy, indignantly. “She has brought me up to be
+clean. It takes nearly everything I get to pay my laundry bill--I dare
+say you think I’m a brute to be so selfish.”
+
+“I’ll send you home every night at ten, and mind you go to bed,” said
+Roger, calmly. “Five hours’ sleep is not enough for a boy of eighteen.
+Get up in the morning and go to the bank. As soon as it closes in the
+afternoon I’ll have business in Cloverdale that will take you on a
+drive there.”
+
+“You’re a daisy, Roger,” said Bonny, in a low voice.
+
+Roger cast down his eyes. That flushed, disturbed face reminded him
+of his own beautiful Margaretta. Pray Heaven, he would never see such
+trouble and dissatisfaction in her blue eyes.
+
+Bonny had already thrown himself into a deep leather-covered armchair,
+and was apparently absorbed in the magazine. Presently he looked up.
+“Roger, don’t you tell the girls what I’ve been saying.”
+
+“No, I won’t.”
+
+“Nor Grandma.”
+
+“No, nor Grandma.”
+
+But Grandma knew. There was no hoodwinking that dear, shrewd old lady,
+and when next she met Roger, which was the following morning, as he
+was on his way to his office, and she was on her way to call on his
+wife, her deep-set eyes glistened strangely, and instead of saying
+“Good morning, dear grandson-in-law,” as she usually did, she said
+“Good morning, dear son.” She considered him as much one of the family
+as her three beloved orphan grandchildren.
+
+Yes, Grandma knew, and Grandma approved of what he was doing for her
+poor, wilful, troubled Bonny.
+
+Every evening for five evenings the lad came to the iron works, and
+steadfastly set his young face to the sober, unexciting examination of
+dull rows of figures, stretching indefinitely across white pages.
+
+On the fifth night something went wrong with him. In the first place,
+he was late in coming. In the second place, his nerves seemed to be
+stretched to their utmost tension.
+
+“What’s up with you?” asked Roger, when, after a few minutes’ work
+Bonny pushed aside the big books, and said, “I’m going home.”
+
+“I’m tired,” said Bonny. “I hate this bookkeeping.”
+
+“All right,” said his brother-in-law, composedly. “I’m tired myself.
+Let’s have a game of chess.”
+
+“I hate chess,” said Bonny, sulkily.
+
+“I wonder whether it’s too early for supper?” asked Roger,
+good-humouredly getting up and going to a closet.
+
+He looked over his shoulder at Bonny as he spoke. Every night at
+half-past nine he was in the habit of producing cakes, candy, syrup,
+fruit, and nuts for the boy’s supper. It was not very long since he had
+been a boy himself, and he remembered his chronic craving for sweet
+things.
+
+“You’re always stuffing me,” replied Bonny, disagreeably. “You think
+you’ll make me good-natured.”
+
+“What’s the matter with you, Bonny?” asked Roger, closing the door and
+returning to his seat.
+
+“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” snarled Bonny, miserably,
+rolling his head about on his folded arms resting on the table. “I hate
+everything and everybody. I could kill you, Roger.”
+
+“All right--there’s a pair of Indian clubs over there in the corner,”
+said his brother-in-law, cheerfully.
+
+“I thought I’d be an angel after a few nights’ association with you,”
+continued the lad, “and you make me feel worse than ever.”
+
+“Looks as if I were a bad sort of a fellow, doesn’t it?” remarked
+Roger, philosophically.
+
+“You’re not bad,” snapped Bonny. “You’re a tremendous good sort. I’m
+the brute. Roger, why don’t you preach to me?”
+
+For some time Roger stared at him in silence; then he said, “Seems to
+me you can preach better to yourself. If I were going to set up for a
+preacher I’d only hold forth to the impenitent.”
+
+“The fellows are going to a dance at Hickey’s to-night,” said Bonny,
+suddenly pounding on the table with his fist, “and I’m not in it, and
+then at midnight they’re going to see the circus arrive, and I’m not in
+that.”
+
+“At Hickey’s--where is that?”
+
+“Up the road; don’t you know?”
+
+“Oh, yes; rather gay people, aren’t they?”
+
+“Well, they’re not in Margaretta’s set; but then she is mighty
+particular.”
+
+“Would you take her there if she cared to go?”
+
+“No, I wouldn’t--well, go on, Roger.”
+
+“Go on where?” asked the elder man, in slight bewilderment.
+
+“To embrace your opportunity--administer a rebuke--cuff a sinner,”
+sneered Bonny.
+
+Roger grinned at him.
+
+“My dear boy,” began Bonny, in an exasperated tone, “let me exhort,
+admonish, and counsel you never to go to any place, or visit any
+resort, or indulge in any society where you could not take your
+venerable grandmother and your beloved sisters.”
+
+“Not bad for a beginner,” said Roger, patronizingly.
+
+“I’m going,” said the boy, abruptly jumping up. “I feel as if I should
+fly in fifty pieces if I stayed here any longer--till I see you again,
+Roger.”
+
+He was already on the threshold, but Roger sauntered after him. “Hold
+on a bit--four days ago you came to me in something of a pickle.”
+
+“You bet your iron works I did,” replied Bonny.
+
+“I helped you out of it.”
+
+“I guess you did.”
+
+“For four evenings you have come here and helped me, and I am going to
+pay you well for it.”
+
+“Glory on your head, you are,” said Bonny, wildly.
+
+“In these four days,” continued Roger, “you have been early at the
+bank--you have done your work faithfully there. You have not shirked.”
+
+“Not a hair’s breadth, and mighty tired I am of it. I’m sick of
+reformation. I’m going to be just as bad as I can be. Hurrah for
+Hickey’s,” and he was just about darting off, when Roger caught him by
+the arm.
+
+“Listen to me for a minute. I ask you to give me one day more. Stay
+here with me to-night. Do your work as usual. Go home to bed. Fill in
+to-morrow properly, then in the evening, at this time, if you want to
+go back to your old silly tricks, go. I wash my hands of you.”
+
+Bonny turned his face longingly toward the city, thought deeply for a
+few minutes, then retraced his steps. “I’ll be good to-night,” he said,
+threateningly, “but just you wait till to-morrow night comes.”
+
+“You’ve got a conscience,” said Roger, sternly; “if you choose to choke
+it and play the fool, no one is strong enough to hold you--pass me that
+ledger, will you?”
+
+“Oh, shut up,” blurted Bonny, under his breath. However, he sat down
+quietly enough, and did his work until the clock struck ten.
+
+Then he stifled a yawn, jumped up, and said, “I’m going now.”
+
+“Mind, seven-thirty to-morrow evening,” said Roger, stiffly.
+
+“All right; seven-thirty for once more, and only once,” said Bonny,
+with glistening eyes, “for once more and only once! I’m tired of your
+stuffy old office, and strait-laced ways.”
+
+“Good night,” said Roger, kindly, “and don’t be a fool.”
+
+Bonny ran like a fox down the long lane leading to the city. “He’s
+making for his burrow,” said Roger, with a weary smile. “He’s a scamp,
+but you can trust him if he once gives his word. I wish I were a better
+sort of a man,” and with mingled reverence and humility he lifted his
+gaze to the stars. “If that boy is going to be saved, something has got
+to be done mighty quick!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+BONNY’S ORDEAL
+
+
+“What’s the matter, Roger?” asked his wife, when he went home.
+
+“Nothing,” said the young man, wearily, but he went to bed early, and,
+rising early the next morning, strode off to the iron works without
+taking his breakfast.
+
+How he loved the handsome lad, his wife’s double. What could he do,
+what could he say? Until now he had considered the boy inferior in
+character to his two sisters. But, as he had often assured himself, the
+stock was good, and the strength and energy latent in Bonny were now
+looming to the fore. He was emerging from boyhood into manhood, and
+his childish, happy-go-lucky disposition of youth was warring with the
+growing forces of more mature age.
+
+The morning wore on, and his gloominess increased, until his father
+shortly told him that he didn’t look well, and he had better go home.
+
+“I’m all right,” Roger was saying, almost harshly, when there was a
+ring at his telephone. The National Bank wanted to speak to him.
+
+“Hello,” said Roger.
+
+“Can you come up to the bank?” asked some one, in a jerky voice. “Have
+had a robbery--young Gravely hurt.”
+
+Roger dashed from his seat, seized his hat, and with a hurried word to
+his father, rushed outside.
+
+A delivery-cart was standing before the door. He did not stop to see
+whose it was, but seizing the reins, urged the horse toward the centre
+of the city.
+
+There was a crowd around the bank, but the cordon of police let
+him through. Inside was a group of bank officials, reporters, and
+detectives.
+
+The president’s face was flushed and angry. “Yes we have had a loss,”
+he said to Roger. “Oh, young Gravely--his grandmother came for him.”
+
+Roger elbowed his way out and took a cab to River Street.
+
+Here it was quiet. The noise of the bank robbery had not reached this
+neighbourhood. He ran up-stairs three steps at a time to Bonny’s large
+room in the top of the house, and softly pushed open the door.
+
+Bonny was in bed. Grandma, Berty, a woman of the neighbourhood, and a
+doctor were bending over him.
+
+Roger could see that the boy’s face was pale and bandaged.
+
+“Bonny,” he said, involuntarily.
+
+The boy heard him and opened his eyes.
+
+“All right, Roger,” he murmured, feebly. “I stood by the fort, but
+I--guess--you’ll--have--to--excuse--me--to-night,” and his voice
+trailed off into unconsciousness.
+
+The doctor looked impatiently over his shoulder, and Roger crept out
+into the hall.
+
+Grandma sent Berty after him. “Oh, Roger,” she whispered, “we had such
+a fright.”
+
+“What is it--how was it?” asked Roger, eagerly.
+
+“Why, the circus-parade was passing the bank. Every clerk but Bonny
+left his desk to go look at it. They don’t seem to know why he stayed.
+When the parade passed, and the clerks went back, he was lying on the
+floor with his face and head cut.”
+
+“I know why he stayed,” muttered Roger. “He was trying to do his duty.
+Thank God, he was not killed. Is he much hurt?”
+
+“Some bad flesh wounds. The doctor says he must be kept quiet, but he
+doesn’t think his brain is injured. Oh, Roger, we are so thankful his
+life was spared.”
+
+“Probably the thieves didn’t try to kill him. If I can do nothing, I’ll
+go find out something about the affair. I must telephone Margaretta.
+She will be upset if she hears from strangers.”
+
+“Yes, go,” said Berty, “and ask her to come to us.”
+
+Late that evening, the doctor, to quiet his feverish patient, permitted
+him to have five minutes’ conversation with his brother-in-law.
+
+Roger seized the hand lying on the coverlet, and pressed it silently.
+
+“Did they catch the thieves?” asked Bonny, huskily.
+
+“One of them, my boy--how do you think the detectives made sure of him?”
+
+“Don’t know.”
+
+“He was hanging around the circus-crowd, trying to mix up with it--he
+had some of your yellow hairs on his coat-sleeve.”
+
+Bonny smiled faintly.
+
+“The police expect him to turn State’s evidence,” continued Roger.
+
+“How much did the bank lose?”
+
+“Fifteen thousand dollars.”
+
+“But they’ll get it back, Roger?”
+
+“Yes, if they catch the other fellow, and they’re sure to do it. Bonny,
+you’re not to talk. Just tell me if this is straight--I want it for the
+papers. You stood at your desk, all the others ran to the street door.
+Then--”
+
+“Then,” said Bonny, “I was mad. I wanted to look at the circus, but I
+had promised you not to shirk. But I just gritted my teeth as I stood
+there. I was staring after the others when I heard a little noise in
+the president’s room. I turned round, and saw a man peeping out. I had
+no revolver, and I didn’t know where Danvers kept his, and like an
+idiot I never thought to scream. I just grabbed for Buckley’s camera.
+You know he is a photographic fiend.”
+
+“Yes,” smiled Roger, and he thought of what the captured thief had
+asked one of the policemen guarding him: “How’s that gritty little
+demon that tried to snap us?”
+
+“I was just pressing the button,” went on Bonny, “when the man leaped
+like a cat, and, first thing I knew, he was smashing me over the head
+with that camera. There was such a row in the street that the others
+didn’t hear it.”
+
+“Five minutes are up,” said the doctor, coming into the room.
+
+“One minute, Roger,” said the boy, feebly. “I had a second before I
+got whacked, and in that second I thought, ‘Here’s a specimen of the
+leisure class toward which I am drifting. I’ll stay with the workers,’
+so, Roger, we’ll not call off that contract of ours to-night.”
+
+“All right,” said Roger, beaming on him, and backing toward the door.
+“It’s to stand--for how long?”
+
+“For ever!” said the boy, with sudden force, just as the doctor gently
+pushed him back on his pillow, and, putting a teaspoonful of medicine
+to his lips, said, “Now, young sir, you take this.”
+
+Roger, with a smiling face, sought Grandma and Berty on the veranda at
+the back of the house. “He’ll be all right in a day or two.”
+
+“Yes, it is the shock that has upset him more than the wounds,” said
+Berty. “The burglars only wanted to silence him.”
+
+“Grandma, do you know the bank is going to discharge every man-Jack but
+Bonny?” said Roger.
+
+Grandma’s eyes sparkled, then she became thoughtful.
+
+“What, all those old fellows?” exclaimed Berty.
+
+“Bonny won’t stay,” said Grandma, quietly. “He would feel like a prig.”
+
+“I am going to take him in the iron works with me,” said Roger. “I
+won’t be denied. He will make a first-class business man.”
+
+“Under your tuition,” said Grandma, with a proud look at him.
+
+“Hush,” said Berty, “the newsboys are calling an extra.”
+
+They all listened. “Extry edeetion _Evening Noose_--cap-tchure of the
+second burrgg-lar of the great bank robbery.”
+
+“Good,” cried Berty, “they’ve caught the second man. Roger, dear, go
+get us a paper.”
+
+The young man ran nimbly down-stairs.
+
+“How he loves Bonny!” said Berty. “What a good brother-in-law!”
+
+Grandma said nothing, but her inscrutable gaze went away down the river.
+
+“And, Grandma,” went on Berty, “let me tell you what Bonny whispered
+to me before I left the room. He said, ‘I’ve sometimes got mad with
+Grandma for always harping on keeping the family together, but I see
+now that if you keep your own family together, you keep your business
+family together.’”
+
+Grandma did not reply. Her gaze was still down the river, but the girl,
+watching her lips, saw them softly form the words, “Thank God!”
+
+Bonny’s ordeal was past, and it had better fitted him for other and
+perhaps more severe ordeals in his life to come.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+BERTY IMPARTS INFORMATION
+
+
+Mrs. Stanisfield was making her way to her roof-garden.
+
+“If any callers come,” she said to her parlour-maid, “bring them up
+here.”
+
+Presently there was an exclamation, “What cheer!”
+
+Margaretta looked around. Her irrepressible sister Berty stood in the
+French window, her dark head thrust forward inquiringly.
+
+“Come out, dear,” said Mrs. Stanisfield, “I am alone.”
+
+“I want to have a talk,” said Berty, coming forward, “and have you
+anything to eat? I am hungry as a guinea-pig.”
+
+“There is a freezer of ice-cream over there behind those azaleas--the
+cake is in a covered dish.”
+
+Berty dipped out a saucerful of ice-cream, cut herself a good-sized
+piece of cake, and then took a low seat near her sister, who was
+examining her curiously.
+
+“Berty,” said Margaretta, suddenly, “you have something to tell me.”
+
+Berty laughed. “How queer things are. Two months ago we had plenty of
+money. Then Grandma lost everything. We had to go and live in that old
+gone-to-seed mansion on River Street--you know what a dirty street it
+is?”
+
+“Yes, I know--I wish I didn’t.”
+
+“I’m not sorry we went. I’ve had such experiences. I thought I wouldn’t
+tell you, Margaretta, till all was over. You might worry.”
+
+“What have you been doing?” asked Margaretta, anxiously.
+
+“You remember how the neighbours thought we were missionaries when we
+first moved to the street?”
+
+“Yes, I do.”
+
+“And when I spoke sharply to a slow workman, an impudent boy called out
+that the missionary was mad?”
+
+“Yes, I recall it--what neighbours!”
+
+“I shall never forget that first evening,” said Berty, musingly.
+“Grandma and I were sitting by the fire--so tired after the
+moving--when a dozen of those half-washed women came edging in with
+Bibles and hymn-books under their arms.”
+
+“It was detestable,” said Margaretta, with a shrug of her shoulders,
+“but does it not worry you to repeat all this?”
+
+“No, dearest, I am working up to something. You remember the
+women informed us in a mousie way that they had come to have a
+prayer-meeting, and I cuttingly told them that we weren’t ready for
+callers. Dear Grandma tried to smooth it over by saying that while we
+had a great respect for religious workers, we did not belong to them,
+but her salve didn’t cover the wound my tongue had made.”
+
+“What do you mean?” asked Margaretta.
+
+“Here begins the part that is new to you,” said Berty, jubilantly. “To
+snub one’s neighbours is a dangerous thing. Every tin can and every
+decrepit vegetable in our yard next morning eloquently proclaimed this
+truth.”
+
+“You don’t mean to say they had dared--”
+
+“Had dared and done--and our yard had just been so nicely cleaned.
+Well, I was pretty mad, but I said nothing. Next morning there was
+more rubbish--I went into the street. There was no policeman in sight,
+so I went to the city hall. Underneath is a place, you know, where
+policemen lounge till they have to go on their beats.”
+
+“No, I don’t know. I never was in the city hall in my life. You didn’t
+go alone, Berty?”
+
+“Yes, I did--why shouldn’t I? I’m a free-born American citizen. Our
+grandfather was one of the leading men of this city. His taxes helped
+to build that hall. I’ve a right there, if I want to go.”
+
+“But without a chaperon, and you are so young, and--and--”
+
+“Beautiful.”
+
+“I was going to say pretty,” remarked Margaretta, severely.
+
+“Beautiful is stronger,” said Berty, calmly. “What a lovely view you
+have from this roof-garden, Margaretta. How it must tranquillize you to
+gaze at those trees and flower-beds when anything worries you.”
+
+“Do go on, Berty--what did you do at the city hall?”
+
+“A big policeman asked what I wanted. I thought of one of dear
+grandfather’s sayings, ‘Never deal with subordinates if you can get at
+principals,’ so I said, ‘I want to see your head man.’”
+
+“That’s an African tribe expression, I think,” murmured Margaretta.
+
+“Evidently, for he grinned and said, ‘Oh, the chief,’ and he opened the
+door of a private office”.
+
+“Another big man sat like a mountain behind a table. He didn’t get up
+when I went in--just looked at me.”
+
+“‘Are you over the police of this city?’” I asked.
+
+“‘I am,’ he said.
+
+“‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’ve come to apply to you for protection. My
+neighbours throw tin cans in my back yard every night, and I don’t like
+it.’
+
+“He grinned from ear to ear, and asked me where I lived.
+
+“‘On River Street,’ I said.
+
+“He gave a whistle and stared at me. I didn’t have on anything
+remarkable--only a black cloth walking-skirt with a round hat, and that
+plain-looking white shirt-waist you gave me with the pretty handwork.”
+
+“Which cost forty dollars,” said Margaretta, under her breath.
+
+“Well, that man stared at me,” went on Berty, “and then what do you
+think he said in an easy tone of voice--‘And what have you been doing
+to your neighbours, my dear?’
+
+“Margaretta, I was furious. ‘Get up out of your seat,’ I said, in a
+choking voice. ‘Take that cap off your head, and remember that you are
+in the presence of a lady. My grandfather was the late Judge Travers
+of this city, my brother-in-law is Mr. Roger Stanisfield, of the
+Stanisfield Iron Works, and my great-uncle is governor of the State.
+I’ll have you put out of office if you say “my dear” to me again.’”
+
+Margaretta held her breath. Berty’s face was flaming at the
+reminiscence, and her ice-cream was slipping to the floor. “What did he
+say?” she gasped.
+
+“I wish you could have seen him, Margaretta. He looked like a bumptious
+old turkey gobbler, knocked all of a heap by a small-sized chicken.
+
+“‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, scuttling out of his seat, ‘I’m sure,
+Miss, I didn’t dream who you were.’
+
+“‘It isn’t your business to dream,’ I said, still furious. ‘When a
+woman comes to you with a complaint, treat her civilly. You’re nothing
+but the paid servant of the city. You don’t own the citizens of
+Riverport!’
+
+“That finished him. ‘I’m going now,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to sit down.
+See that you attend to that matter without delay,’ and I stalked out,
+and he followed me with his mouth open, and if I didn’t know what had
+happened, I’d say he was standing at that door yet gazing up the street
+after me.”
+
+“What did happen?” asked Margaretta, eagerly.
+
+“I got my back yard cleaned,” said Berty, drily. “Grandma says two
+policemen came hurrying up the street before I got home. They went into
+some of the houses, then women came out, and boys swarmed over our
+fence, and in an hour there wasn’t the ghost of a tin can left.”
+
+“Think of it,” said Margaretta, “what wretched things for you to be
+exposed to--what degradation!”
+
+“It isn’t any worse for me than for other women and girls,” said Berty,
+doggedly, “and I’m going to find out why River Street isn’t treated as
+well as Grand Avenue.”
+
+“But River Street people are poor, Berty.”
+
+“Suppose they are poor, aren’t they the children of the city?”
+
+“But, Berty--workmen and that sort of people can’t have fine houses,
+and horses and carriages.”
+
+“Not for horses and carriages, not for fine houses am I pleading, but
+for equal rights in comfort and decency. Would you take your cold dip
+every morning if you had to cross a frozen yard in winter, and a
+filthy yard in summer for every drop of water you use?”
+
+Margaretta shuddered.
+
+“Would you have your house kept clean if it were so dark that you
+couldn’t see the dirty corners?”
+
+“No, I wouldn’t,” said Margaretta, decidedly, “but who owns those
+dreadful places?”
+
+“You do,” said Berty, shortly.
+
+“I do!” said Margaretta, aghast.
+
+“Yes--some of them. Roger holds property down there in your name. All
+the rich people in the city like to invest in River Street tenements.
+They’re always packed.”
+
+“I won’t have it,” said Margaretta. “Roger shall sell out.”
+
+“Don’t sell--improve your property, and get some of the stain off your
+soul. Women should ask their husbands where they invest their money.
+Good old Mrs. Darlway, the temperance worker, owns a building with a
+saloon in it.”
+
+“Oh, misery!” exclaimed Margaretta, “she doesn’t know it, of course.”
+
+“No--tell her.”
+
+“How have you found all this out, Berty?”
+
+“I’ve talked to the women.”
+
+“What--the women of the tin can episode?”
+
+“Oh, they’re all over that now--they understand Grandma and me--and
+what a lot of things they’ve told me. Haven’t you always thought that
+policemen were noble, kind creatures, like soldiers?”
+
+“Yes,” said Margaretta, innocently, “aren’t they?”
+
+“They’re the most miserable of miserable sinners.”
+
+“Oh, Berty, surely not all!”
+
+“Well, I’ll be generous and leave out half a dozen if it will please
+you. The others all take bribes.”
+
+“Bribes!”
+
+“Yes, bribes. Did you ever see a lean policeman, Margaretta?”
+
+“I don’t know.”
+
+“I never did--they’re all fat as butter, like the sinners in the
+Psalms. Now, no one need ever tell me that the police are honest, till
+I see them all get lean with chasing after evil. Now they just stand
+round corners like green bay-trees, and take bribes.”
+
+Margaretta was silent for a long time, pondering over this new
+department of thought opened up to her. Then she said, “Why don’t you
+get the women to leave this hateful neighbourhood?”
+
+“How can they?” said her sister, mournfully, “their husbands work on
+the wharves. But I mustn’t make you too gloomy. Let me tell you about
+the heart of the Mayor.”
+
+“You were dreadfully sad just after you went to River Street,” said
+Margaretta; “was this the trouble?”
+
+“Yes,” said Berty, lowering her voice, “the woes of the poor were
+sinking into my heart.”
+
+“Poor child--but take your ice-cream. It is melting and slipping down
+your gown, and the dog has eaten your cake.”
+
+“Has he?” said Berty, indifferently. “Well, dog, take the ice-cream,
+too. I want to talk--I came out of our house one morning, Margaretta;
+there were three pitiful little children on the door-step. ‘Children,
+do get out of this,’ I said. ‘We may have callers, and you look like
+imps.’”
+
+“Have you had any more callers?” asked Margaretta, eagerly.
+
+“Yes, the Everests, and Brown-Gardners, and Mrs. Darley-James.”
+
+“Mrs. Darley-James!”
+
+“Yes, Mrs. Darley-James, that fastidious dame. I’ve read that when you
+get poor, your friends forsake you, but ours have overwhelmed us with
+attentions.”
+
+“Grandma is an exceptional woman,” said Margaretta, proudly.
+
+“And do you know every one of those women noticed the children.
+Mrs. Darley-James nearly fainted. I had to go to the door with her,
+as we have no well-trained maid, but only that stupid woman of the
+neighbourhood. ‘Why, the children all look ill,’ Mrs. Darley-James said.
+
+“‘A good many of them are,’ I replied. ‘Two died in that yellow house
+last night.’
+
+“She said, ‘Oh, horrible!’ and got into her carriage. Well, to come
+back to this day that I stood on the door-step talking to the children.
+They looked up at me, the dear little impudent things, and said, ‘We
+ain’t goin’ to move one step, missus, ’cause you gets the sun longer on
+your side of the street than we does.’
+
+“What they said wasn’t remarkable, but I choked all up. To think of
+those pale-faced babies manœuvering to sit where they could catch the
+sun as he peeped shyly at them over the roofs of the tall houses. I
+felt as if I should like to have the demon of selfishness by the
+throat and shake him till I choked him. Then I flew to the city hall--”
+
+“The city hall again?” murmured Margaretta.
+
+“Yes--what is the city hall but a place of refuge for the children of
+the city? I asked to see the Mayor. A young man in the other office
+said he was busy.”
+
+“‘Then I’ll wait,’ I said, and I sat down.
+
+“He kept me sitting there for a solid hour. You can imagine that
+I was pretty well annoyed. At the end of that time three fat,
+prosperous-looking men walked from the inner sanctum, and I was invited
+to go in.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE HEART OF THE MAYOR
+
+
+“Inside was a smaller, but still prosperous-looking man sitting like
+a roly-poly behind a desk, and blinking amiably at me with his small
+eyes.”
+
+Margaretta smiled, and asked, “Young or old?”
+
+“Oh, dear, I don’t know--couldn’t tell his age any more than I could
+tell the age of a plum-pudding. His face was fat and red, and he had so
+little hair that it might be either gray or sandy. I’d give him any age
+between fifteen and fifty.”
+
+“Well, now, I don’t suppose he would be fifteen.”
+
+“He acts like it sometimes,” said Berty, warmly. “Years have not taught
+him grace and experience, as they have Grandma.”
+
+“What is his name?”
+
+“Jimson--Peter Jimson.”
+
+“Let me see,” murmured Margaretta, “there is a Mrs. Jimson and there
+are two Misses Jimson who are dying to get into our set. I heard the
+Everests laughing about them.”
+
+“Same ones, probably--well, he knew enough to stand up when I went in.
+I said ‘Good morning’ and he looked so amiable that I thought he would
+give me not only what I wanted, but the whole city besides.
+
+“When we had both sat down, I said, ‘I will not take up your time, sir.
+I have merely come to ask you to give the children of the East End a
+park to play in.’
+
+“He lowered his eyes, and began to play with a paper-knife. Then he
+looked up, and said, ‘May I ask your name?’
+
+“‘My name is Miss Gravely,’ I told him, ‘and I am Mrs. Travers’s
+granddaughter.’
+
+“‘Oh, indeed,’ he replied, ‘and why are you interested in the children
+of the East End?’
+
+“‘Because I live there--on River Street. We have lost our money.’
+
+“He looked surprised at the first part of my sentence. I think he knew
+about the last of it. Then he said, ‘Have the children asked for a
+park?’
+
+“‘No, sir,’ I said, ‘they haven’t.’
+
+“‘Then why give it to them?’ he inquired, mildly.
+
+“‘Does a good father always wait to have his children demand a
+necessity before he offers it?’ I replied.
+
+“He smiled, and began to play with the paper-knife again.
+
+“‘The children have nowhere to go, sir,’ I went on. ‘The mothers drive
+them from the dirty houses, the sailors drive them from the wharves,
+the truck-men drive them from the streets.’
+
+“‘A park might be a good thing,’ he said, cautiously, ‘but there is no
+money in the treasury.’
+
+“I felt myself growing hot. ‘No money in the treasury, sir, and you can
+put up a magnificent building like this? Some of this money has been
+taken from the children.’
+
+“He said the city had its dignity to maintain.
+
+“‘But there is charity, sir, as well as dignity.’
+
+“He smiled sweetly--his whole attitude was one of indulgent sympathy
+for a youthful crank, and I began to get more and more stirred up.
+
+“‘Sir,’ I said, ‘I think you must be a stepfather.’
+
+“‘Sometimes step-parents display more wisdom than real parents,’ he
+said, benevolently.
+
+“I thought of the good stepmother Grandma had when a girl. He was right
+this time, and I was wrong, but this didn’t make me more comfortable
+in my mind. ‘There is no need of new pavements on Broadway, sir,’ I
+blurted out.
+
+“‘We must make the business part of the city attractive,’ he said, ‘or
+strangers won’t come here.’
+
+“‘Strangers must come,’ I said, bitterly, ‘the children can die.’
+
+“‘There is no place for a park on River Street,’ he went on. ‘Property
+is held there at a high figure. No one would sell.’
+
+“‘There is Milligan’s Wharf, sir,’ I replied. ‘It is said to be
+haunted, and no sailors will go there. You could make a lovely
+fenced-in park.’
+
+“‘But there is no money,’ he said, blandly.
+
+“Something came over me. I wasn’t angry on my own account. I have
+plenty of fresh air, for I am boating half the time, but dead
+children’s faces swam before me, and I felt like Isaiah and Jeremiah
+rolled in one.
+
+“‘Who made you, unkind man?’ I said, pointing a finger at him.
+
+“He wouldn’t tell me, so I told him, ‘God made you, and me, and the
+little children on River Street. Do you dare to say that you stand
+higher in His sight than they do?’
+
+“He said no, he wouldn’t, but he was in office to save the city’s
+money, and he was going to do it.
+
+“‘Let the city deny itself for the children. You know there are things
+it could do without. If you don’t, the blood of the children will be on
+your head.’
+
+“He twisted his shoulders, and said, ‘See here, young lady, I’ve been
+all through this labour and capital business. Labour is unthrifty and
+brainless. You’re young and extreme, and don’t understand. I’ve done
+good turns to many a man, and never had a word of thanks.’
+
+“‘Tell me what you like about grown people,’ I said, wildly, ‘I’ll
+believe anything, but don’t say a word against the children.’
+
+“He twisted his shoulders again, and slyly looked at his watch.
+
+“I got up. ‘Sir,’ I said, ‘River Street is choked with dust in summer,
+and buried in mud and snow in winter. The people have neither decency
+nor comfort in their houses. The citizens put you over the city, and
+you are neglecting some of them.’
+
+“He just beamed at me, he was so glad I was going. ‘Young lady,’ he
+said, ‘you have too much heart. I once had, but for years I’ve been
+trying to educate it out of myself. I’ve nearly succeeded.’
+
+[Illustration: “‘YOU HAVE TOO MUCH HEART’”]
+
+“‘There must be a little left,’ I said, ‘just a little bit. I’ll make
+it my business to find it. Good morning,’ and with this threat I left
+him and ran, ran for River Street.”
+
+“Good for you,” said Margaretta.
+
+“I swept along like a whirlwind. I gathered up the children and took
+them down on Milligan’s Wharf.”
+
+“‘Children,’ I said, ‘do you know who the Mayor is?’
+
+“They said he was the big man down in the city hall.
+
+“‘And how did he get there?’
+
+“‘They votes him in, and they votes him out,’ a bootblack said.
+
+“‘Who votes?’ I asked.
+
+“‘All the men in the city.’
+
+“‘Do your fathers vote?’”
+
+“‘Course--ain’t they Riverporters?’
+
+“‘Then,’ I said, ‘you belong to the city, and you own a little bit of
+the Mayor, and I have just been asking him to give you a park to play
+in, but he won’t.’
+
+“The children didn’t seem to care, so I became demagoguish. ‘Boys
+and girls,’ I said, ‘the children of the North End have a park, the
+children of the South End have a park, the children of the West End
+have a park, but the children of the East End aren’t good enough to
+have a park! What do you think ought to be done to the Mayor?’
+
+“A little girl giggled, and said, ‘Duck him in the river,’ and a boy
+said, ‘Tar and feather him.’
+
+“‘No,’ I said, ‘that would not be right, but, come now, children, don’t
+you want a park--a nice wide place with trees, and benches, and swings,
+and a big heap of sand to play in?’
+
+“‘Oh, glorymaroo!’ said a little girl, ‘it would be just like a
+Sunday-school picnic.’
+
+“‘Yes, just like a picnic every day, and now, children, you can have
+this park if you will do as I tell you; will you?’
+
+“‘Yes, yes,’ they all shouted, for they had begun to get excited. ‘Now
+listen,’ I went on, and I indicated two of the most ragged little
+creatures present, ‘go to the city hall, take each other’s hands, and
+when you see the Mayor coming, go up to him politely, and say, “Please,
+Mr. Mayor, will you give the children of the East End a park to play
+in?”’
+
+“They ran off like foxes before I could say another word, then they
+rushed back. ‘We don’t know that gen’l’man.’
+
+“Here was a dilemma, but a newsboy, with eyes like gimlets, got me out
+of it. ‘See here,’ he said, ‘I can’t wiggle in ’count of business, but
+I’ll give signals. You, here, Biddy Malone, when you see me hop on one
+leg, and kick a stone, you’ll know the Mayor’s coming, see?’
+
+“The girls nodded and ran off, and he ran after them.
+
+“I mustn’t forget to say I told them to go ask their mothers, but,
+bless you, the street is so narrow that the women all knew what I was
+doing, and approved, I could tell by their grins.
+
+“‘Now I want a boy for the Mayor’s house,’ I said.
+
+“A shock-headed urchin volunteered, and I detailed him to sit on the
+Mayor’s steps till that gentleman betook himself home for luncheon, and
+then to rise and say, ‘Please, Mr. Mayor, give the children of the East
+End a park to play in.’
+
+“Well, I sent out about ten couples and six singles. They were to
+station themselves at intervals along the unhappy man’s route, and by
+this time the little monkeys had all got so much in the spirit of it,
+that I had hard work to keep the whole crowd from going.”
+
+Margaretta leaned back in her chair and laughed quietly. “Well, if
+you’re not developing.”
+
+“Put any creature in a tight place,” said Berty, indignantly, “and see
+how it will squirm.”
+
+“How did the Mayor take this persecution?”
+
+“Like an angel, for the first few days. Then I began to increase the
+number of my scouts. They met him on his own sidewalk, on the corner as
+he waited for the car, on the steps of his club, till at last he began
+to dodge them.”
+
+“Then they got their blood up. You can’t elude the children of the
+streets. I told them not to beg or whine, just to say their little
+formula, then vanish.
+
+“At the end of a week he began to have a hunted look. Then he began
+to peer around street corners, then he took to a _coupé_, and then he
+sprained his ankle.”
+
+“What did the children do?”
+
+“Politely waited for him to get well, but he sent me a note, saying he
+would do all he could to get them their park, and with his influence
+that meant, of course, that they should have it.”
+
+“How lovely--weren’t you glad?”
+
+“I danced for joy--but this puzzled me. I hadn’t expected to get at his
+heart so soon. Who had helped me? Grandma said it was the Lord.”
+
+“Aided by Mrs. Jimson, I suspect,” added Margaretta, shrewdly. “This
+explains a mystery. Some time ago, I heard Roger and Tom Everest down
+in the library nearly killing themselves laughing. When I asked Roger
+what it was about, he said only a Jimson joke. Then he said, ‘Can’t you
+keep Berty out of the city hall?’”
+
+“I said, ‘What do you mean?’ but he wouldn’t tell me any more. I
+believe that Mr. Jimson’s men friends teased him, and his mother and
+sisters brought pressure to bear upon him.”
+
+“They called yesterday,” said Berty, demurely.
+
+“Well, well, and did they mention your park?”
+
+“They were full of it. I went down to the wharf with them. I am there
+half the time. You must come, Margaretta, and see the work going on.”
+
+“Where did the Mayor get the money?”
+
+“Squeezed it out of something. He said his councillors approved. He
+won’t see me, though--carries on all the business by correspondence.”
+
+Margaretta looked anxious, but Berty was unheeding, and went on,
+eloquently. “Isn’t it queer how Grandma’s teaching is in our very
+bones? I didn’t know I had it in me to keep even our own family
+together, but I have. I’d fight like a wolf for you and Bonny,
+Margaretta, and now I’m getting so I’ll fight like a wolf for our
+bigger human family.”
+
+Margaretta’s anxiety passed away, and she smiled indulgently. “Very
+well, sister. It’s noble to fight for the right, but don’t get to
+be that thing that men hate so. What is it they call that sort of
+person--oh, yes, a new woman.”
+
+Berty raised both hands. “I’ll be a new woman, or an old woman, or a
+wild woman, or a tame woman, or any kind of a woman, except a lazy
+woman!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE MAYOR’S DILEMMA
+
+
+Berty was rowing down the river in her pink boat with its bands of
+white.
+
+She was all pink and white, boat, cushions, oars, dress, and
+complexion--except her hair and eyes, which formed a striking and
+almost startling blue-black contrast.
+
+However, Berty was nothing if not original, and just now in the late
+afternoon, when all the other boats and canoes were speeding homeward,
+she was hurrying down the river.
+
+She gave a gay greeting to her friends and acquaintances, and to many
+of the fishermen and river-hands with whom she had become acquainted
+since she came to live on River Street.
+
+She scarcely knew why she was turning her back on her home at this, the
+time of her evening meal, unless it was that she was so full of life
+and strength that she simply could not go into the house.
+
+Grandma would not care. Grandma was too philosophical to worry. She
+would take her knitting to the veranda and sit tranquilly awaiting the
+return of her granddaughter. If she got hungry, she would take her
+supper.
+
+    “Grandma is a darling,
+    Grandma is a dear,”
+
+chanted Berty, then she stopped. “But I must not be selfish. I will
+just row round Bobbetty’s Island and then go home.”
+
+Bobbetty’s Island was a haunted island about the size of an extensive
+building lot. Poor old man Bobbetty had lived here alone for so many
+years that he had become crazy at last, and had hanged himself to one
+of the spruce-trees.
+
+Picnic-parties rarely landed here--the island was too small, and the
+young people did not like its reputation. They always went farther down
+to some of the larger islands.
+
+So this little thickly wooded piece of land stood alone and solitary,
+dropped like a bit of driftwood in the middle of the river.
+
+Berty was not afraid of the ghost. She was rowing gaily round the
+spruces singing softly to herself, when she saw something that made
+her mouth close abruptly.
+
+An annoyed-looking man sat on a big flat rock close to the water’s
+edge. He stared at her without speaking, and Berty stared at him. This
+was no ghost. Poor old Bobbetty had not appeared in the flesh. This was
+a very living and very irritated man, judging from his countenance.
+
+Berty smiled softly to herself, then, without a word, she drew near the
+islet, took her hands from the oars, and, pulling her note-book from
+her pocket, coolly scribbled a few lines on a slip of paper:
+
+    “DEAR SIR:--If you have lost your boat, which I judge from
+    appearances you have done, I am willing to give you a lift back
+    to the city.
+
+                             “Yours truly,
+
+                                                   “BERTY GRAVELY.”
+
+Having finished her note, she drew in an oar, put the paper flat on the
+blade, stuck a pin through it to make it firm, then extended it to the
+waiting and watching man.
+
+Without a word on his part, he got up from his rock seat, and,
+stretching out a hand, took the slip of paper. Then reseating himself
+with a slight smile, he produced his own note-book, tore a leaf from
+it, and took a stylographic pen from his pocket.
+
+    “DEAR MADAM:--I have indeed lost my boat. I accept your offer
+    with gratitude.
+
+                             “Yours truly,
+
+                                                    “PETER JIMSON.”
+
+The oar was still resting on the rocks. He pinned his answer to it, saw
+Berty draw it in, read it, and then she brought her boat round for him.
+
+Still without speaking he stepped in, somewhat clumsily, seated
+himself, and mopped his perspiring face.
+
+They were not moving, and he looked up. Berty had dropped the oars, and
+had calmly seated herself on the stern cushions. She had no intention
+of rowing with a man in the boat.
+
+The Mayor set to work, while Berty lounged on her seat and studied the
+shell-like tints of the sky. Suddenly she heard a slight sound, and
+brought her gaze down to the river.
+
+The Mayor was laughing--trying not to do so, but slowly and gradually
+giving way and shaking all over like a bowl of jelly.
+
+She would not ask him what amused him, and presently he said, “Excuse
+me.”
+
+“Why?” asked Berty, with preternatural gravity.
+
+“Well, well,” he stuttered, “I don’t know, but I guess it isn’t good
+manners for one person to laugh when the other isn’t.”
+
+“Laugh on,” said Berty, benevolently, “the whole river is before you.”
+
+The Mayor did laugh on, and rowed at the same time, until at last
+he was obliged to take his hands from the oars, and get out his
+handkerchief to wipe his eyes.
+
+Berty’s face was hidden from him. She had picked up a huge illustrated
+paper from the bottom of the boat, and her whole head was concealed by
+it. But the paper was shaking, and he had an idea that she, too, was
+laughing.
+
+His suspicion was correct, for presently the paper dropped, and he saw
+that his companion was in a convulsion of girlish laughter.
+
+“Oh! oh! oh!” she cried, taking away the handkerchief that she had been
+stuffing in her mouth, “it is too funny. You hate the sight of me, and
+write notes to avoid me, and then go lose your boat on a desert island,
+and have to be rescued by me. Oh! it is too delicious!”
+
+The Mayor thought he could laugh, but his laughter was nothing to this
+ecstasy of youthful enjoyment, and his harsh, thick tones gradually
+died away, while he listened delightedly to this rippling outflow from
+pretty lips.
+
+“It is comical,” he said, after a time, when she had somewhat calmed
+down. “I guess I ought to apologize to you. I have treated you mean.
+But you got a corner on me.”
+
+“A corner in street urchins,” said Berty, gaspingly; “well, I’m obliged
+to you for getting the park, but I must say I wish you would give the
+work some of your personal superintendence.”
+
+“I’ve been down,” he said, unguardedly.
+
+“When?” asked Berty, promptly.
+
+“At night,” he said, with some confusion. “I slip down after I know
+you’ve gone to bed.”
+
+“How do you think the workmen are getting on?” she asked, anxiously.
+
+“Fairly well--what do you want that high fence for?”
+
+“For games--wall games. I wish we could have baths at the end of the
+wharf--public baths. The boys can go down to the river, but the women
+and children have no chance. Poor souls, they suffer. You would not
+like to be cut off from your daily bath, would you, sir?”
+
+“Well, no,” replied the Mayor, cautiously, “I don’t suppose I would.”
+
+“The city ought to build baths,” said Berty, warmly.
+
+“There’s private charity,” said the Mayor.
+
+“Private charity, my dear sir! You don’t know those River Street
+people. They have as much pride as you have. What the city does for
+them is all right--what private citizens do for them publicly, and with
+all sorts of ridiculous restrictions, angers them.”
+
+The Mayor looked longingly over his shoulder toward the city.
+
+“Oh, pardon me,” said Berty, hurriedly. “I shouldn’t talk business
+to you in my own boat when you can’t escape me. Pray tell me of your
+adventures this afternoon. Was your boat stolen?”
+
+“Stolen, no--it was my own carelessness. You know I’m driven to death
+with business, and if I take a friend out with me he’s got an axe to
+grind for some one, so I steal off alone whenever I can. Nobody goes
+to that island, and it’s a fine place to read or snooze, but to-day I
+neglected to secure my boat, and away it went.”
+
+“And nobody came by?”
+
+“Lots of people, I suppose, but I was asleep until just before you
+came.”
+
+“Isn’t the river delicious?” said Berty, dreamily.
+
+“I like it well enough,” said Mr. Jimson, letting unappreciative eyes
+wander over the blue water and the smiling landscape beyond. “It’s a
+great place to plan your business.”
+
+“Business, business, business,” murmured the girl, “it seems sacrilege
+to mention that word here.”
+
+“If it weren’t for business of various kinds, there wouldn’t be any
+Riverport,” said the man, with a backward nod of his head.
+
+“Poor old Riverport!” said Berty; “poor, sordid, material old
+Riverport!”
+
+The Mayor braced his feet harder and stared at her. Then he said, “If
+it weren’t for business, most of us would go under.”
+
+“Yes, but we needn’t be holding it up all the time, and bowing down
+to it, and worshipping, and prostrating our souls before it, till we
+haven’t any spirit or beauty left.”
+
+The Mayor stared at her again. Then he said, “You don’t seem as silly
+as most girls.”
+
+This to Berty was a challenge. Her eyes sparkled wickedly, and from
+that instant till they reached the city she poured out a babble of
+girlish nonsense that completely bewildered the plain man before her.
+
+“Will you let me off at the city wharf?” he asked, at last, when she
+had paused to take breath.
+
+“Certainly,” said Berty, “after you row me home.”
+
+“Oh, excuse me,” he said, confusedly. “I am so little in ladies’
+society that I don’t know how to act.”
+
+“We’ve got a tiny wharf at the end of our back yard,” said Berty.
+“You’ll know it because all the wharves round are black and dingy, but
+ours is painted pink and white. There it is--look ahead and you’ll see.”
+
+The Mayor looked, and soon the little boat was gliding toward the gay
+flight of steps.
+
+“Now will you tie her up and come in through the house?” asked Berty,
+politely.
+
+The Mayor did as he was requested, and, stepping ashore, curiously
+followed his guide up through the tidy back yard to the big
+old-fashioned house that seemed to peer with its small eyes of windows
+far out over the river.
+
+On the ground floor were a kitchen and pantry and several good-sized
+rooms that had been used for servants’ quarters in the first, palmy
+days of the old mansion.
+
+“A pity this neighbourhood was given up to poor people,” said the
+Mayor, as he tramped up a narrow, dark stairway behind his guide.
+
+“A blessing that they have something so lovely as this river view,”
+said Berty, quickly. “I can’t tell you how we appreciate it after our
+limited outlook from Grand Avenue. Here is our dining-room,” and she
+threw open the door of a large room at the back of the house.
+
+Mr. Jimson stepped in somewhat awkwardly. The room was plainly
+furnished, but the small windows were open, and also a glass door
+leading to a veranda, where a table was prepared for the evening meal.
+He could see a white cloth, and numerous dishes covered and uncovered.
+
+“Grandma,” said Berty, “here is Mr. Jimson--you remember hearing me
+speak of him.”
+
+Mr. Jimson, filled with curiosity, turned to the composed little old
+lady who came in from the veranda and shook hands with him. This was
+Madam Travers. He had been familiar with her face for years, but she
+never before had spoken to him.
+
+“Will you stay and have a cup of tea with my granddaughter and me?”
+she asked him, when he looked uncomfortably toward the door.
+
+His gaze went again to the table. A rising breeze had just brushed
+aside the napkin covering a pitcher.
+
+“Is that a jug of buttermilk I see?” he asked, wistfully.
+
+“It is,” said the old lady, kindly.
+
+“Then I’ll stay,” he said, and he dropped his hat on a chair.
+
+Grandma and Berty both smiled, and he smiled himself, and, looking
+longingly toward the table, said, “I can’t get it at home, and in the
+restaurants it is poor stuff.”
+
+“And do you like curds and cream?” asked Grandma, leading the way to
+the table.
+
+“Yes, ma’am!” he said, vigorously.
+
+“And sage cheese, and corn-cake, and crullers?”
+
+“Why, you take me back to my grandfather’s farm in the country,” he
+replied, squeezing himself into the seat indicated.
+
+“My granddaughter and I are very fond of simple dishes,” said Grandma.
+“Now I’ll ask a blessing on this food, and then, Berty, you must give
+Mr. Jimson some buttermilk. I see he is very thirsty.”
+
+Mr. Jimson was an exceedingly happy man. He had pumpkin pie, and cold
+ham, and chicken, in addition to the other dishes he liked, and to
+wind up with, a cup of hot tea.
+
+“This is first-class tea,” he said, abruptly.
+
+“It came from China,” said Grandma, “a present from a Chinese official
+to my late husband. I will show you some of the stalks with the leaves
+on them.”
+
+“Well, you look pretty cozy here,” said the Mayor, after he had
+finished his meal, and sat gazing out on the river. “I wish I could
+stay, but I’ve got a meeting.”
+
+“Come some other time,” said Grandma, graciously.
+
+“I’d like to,” he said, abruptly. “I rarely go out, unless it’s to
+a big dinner which I hate, and sometimes you get tired of your own
+house--though I’ve got a good mother and sisters,” he added, hastily.
+
+“I have no doubt of that,” said Grandma. “They were kind enough to call
+on us.”
+
+“You have a good granddaughter,” he said, with a curious expression,
+as he looked down into the back yard where Berty had gone to feed some
+white pigeons, “but,” he added, “she is a puzzler sometimes. I expect
+she hates me.”
+
+“She does not hate any one,” said Grandma, softly. “She is young and
+overzealous at times, and will heartily scold the latest one to incur
+her displeasure, but she has a loving heart.”
+
+“It’s fine to be young,” said the Mayor, with a sigh; “good-night,
+madam. I’ve enjoyed my visit.”
+
+“Come again some other time,” said Grandma, with quaint, old-fashioned
+courtesy, “we shall always be glad to see you.”
+
+“I will, madam,” said the Mayor, and he gripped her hand till it ached.
+Then he took his hat, and trotted nimbly away.
+
+“Has he gone?” asked Berty, coming into the room a few minutes later.
+
+“Yes,” said Grandma.
+
+The girl’s eyes were dancing. She was longing to make fun of him, but
+her grandmother, she knew, was inexorable. No one should ever ridicule
+in her presence the guest who had broken her bread and eaten her salt.
+
+Yet Berty must say something. “Grandma,” she remarked, softly, “it
+isn’t safe to cut any one, is it?”
+
+“To cut any one?” repeated the old lady.
+
+“To cut the acquaintance of any one. For instance--you hate a person,
+you stop speaking to that person. You get into a scrape, that person
+is the only one who can help you out.”
+
+Grandma said nothing.
+
+“Surely,” said Berty, persuasively, “in the course of your long life,
+you must have often noticed it is not only mean, but it is bad policy
+to break abruptly with any one without just cause?”
+
+“Yes,” said Grandma, quietly, “I have.”
+
+“Any further remarks to make?” inquired Berty, after a long pause.
+
+Grandma’s dimple slowly crept into view.
+
+Berty laughed, kissed her, and ran off to bed, saying, as she did so,
+“I wonder whether your new admirer will ever call again?”
+
+Grandma tranquilly rolled up her knitting and followed her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+A GROUNDLESS SUSPICION
+
+
+Grandma was on the veranda, knitting, knitting, always knitting.
+
+“What a bird’s perch this is,” said some one suddenly, behind her.
+
+She turned round. Grandson Roger was trying to squeeze his tall frame
+between the equally tall frame of an old-fashioned rocking-chair and
+the veranda railing.
+
+“How you must miss your big veranda on Grand Avenue,” he said, coming
+to sit beside her.
+
+“I don’t,” said Grandma, tranquilly. “It’s wonderful how one gets used
+to things. Berty and I used to enjoy our roomy veranda, but we have
+adapted ourselves to this one, and never feel like complaining.”
+
+“It’s a wonderful thing--that power of adaptation,” said the young man,
+soberly, “and I have a theory that the primitive in us likes to return
+to small quarters and simplicity. For instance, I am never so happy as
+when I leave my large house and go to live in my hunting-camp.”
+
+Grandma smiled, and took up her knitting again.
+
+Roger, who had comfortably settled himself in the corner beside her,
+frowned slightly. “Grandma, the girls tell me that you are selling
+these stockings you knit.”
+
+“Yes, why not?” she asked, quietly.
+
+“But there is no need of it.”
+
+“They bring a good price. You cannot buy home-knit silk stockings
+everywhere.”
+
+“But it is drudgery for you.”
+
+“I enjoy it.”
+
+“Very well, if you enjoy it. But you won’t persist if it tires you?”
+
+“No, Roger.”
+
+“Who buys the stockings?” he asked, curiously.
+
+“I sell them among my friends. Mrs. Darley-James buys the most of them.”
+
+His face grew red. “You supply stockings to her?”
+
+“Why should I not?”
+
+“I don’t know why, but it makes me ‘mad,’ as Berty says.”
+
+“Didn’t you supply her husband with that new iron railing for his
+garden?”
+
+“Yes, ma’am, I did, and it’s a good one.”
+
+“Well, if you sell the husband a garden railing, why shouldn’t I sell
+the wife a pair of stockings?”
+
+“I don’t know,” he said, with a laugh. “I suppose it’s the nonsensical
+notion about one kind of labour being degrading, and another ennobling.
+We’re all simpletons, anyway--we human beings. Where is Berty this
+evening?”
+
+“Listen,” said Grandma, putting up a hand.
+
+Down in the back yard was a sound of hammering.
+
+Roger leaned over the railing. “What under the sun is she doing?”
+
+“Puttering over those pigeons--making new boxes for them.”
+
+“Who is with her? I see a man’s back.”
+
+“The Mayor.”
+
+“Jimson?”--and Roger fell back in his seat with a disturbed air.
+
+“The same,” said Grandma, calmly.
+
+Roger wrinkled his forehead. “That reminds me--came to see you partly
+about that. It seems Berty and the Mayor go about a good deal together.”
+
+“How do you know?” asked Grandma, shrewdly.
+
+“Oh, I know, people notice them.”
+
+“Some one has been complaining to you,” said Grandma. “Who was it?”
+
+Roger smiled. “Well, to tell the truth, Tom Everest was grumbling. You
+know he has been just like a brother to Berty and Margaretta.”
+
+“Yes, I know,” said Grandma, tranquilly. “I just wanted to find out
+whether there was any public gossip about Berty’s friendship for the
+Mayor. Friendly inquiry on the part of an old playmate is another
+matter.”
+
+“I cannot imagine Berty giving any one any occasion for gossip,” said
+Roger, proudly.
+
+“Nor I--well, go on, what did Tom say?”
+
+“He said, ‘What does this mean, Stanisfield? Berty is for ever on the
+river with the Mayor, he is for ever dangling about her house, and that
+park she is getting in shape for the children. If I were you I’d put a
+word in Mrs. Travers’s ear. Don’t speak to Berty.’”
+
+“Poor Tom!” said Grandma.
+
+“He’s jealous, I suppose,” said Roger. “Still, if he talks, some one
+else may talk. What does it mean that Jimson comes here so much? You
+don’t suppose he has taken a fancy to Berty?”
+
+Grandma smiled. “Yes, I do, a strong and uncommon fancy. He is
+perfectly fascinated by her.”
+
+Roger’s jaw fell, and he smote with his fist on the arm of the
+rocking-chair. “Get rid of him, Grandma. Don’t have him round.”
+
+“Why not--he’s an honourable man.”
+
+“But not for Berty--you don’t know, Grandma. He’s all right morally,
+but he’s vulgar--none of our set go with him.”
+
+“I don’t find him unbearably vulgar. He seems a kind-hearted man, but I
+am unintentionally deceiving you. He is over forty years old, Roger.”
+
+“Well, men of forty, and men of fifty, fancy girls of half their age.”
+
+“Fancy them, yes, but he has no intention of falling in love with
+Berty. He is simply charmed with her as a companion.”
+
+“It’s a dangerous companionship,” grumbled Roger.
+
+“Not so--they quarrel horribly,” and Grandma laughed enjoyably over
+some reminiscences.
+
+“Quarrel, do they?”
+
+“Yes, Roger--my theory is that that man is too hard worked. Fagged out
+when he leaves his office, he is beset by petitioners for this thing
+and that thing. At home I fancy he has little peace, for his mother
+and sisters are ambitious socially, and urge him to attend various
+functions for which he has no heart. Unexpectedly he has found a place
+of refuge here, and a congenial playfellow in Berty. I think he really
+has to put a restraint upon himself to keep from coming oftener.”
+
+“This is Jimson in a new light,” said Roger, listening attentively.
+
+“In River Street,” continued Grandma, “he is free. No one comes to find
+him here. He has plenty of excitement and amusement if Berty is about.
+If she is out, he sits and talks to me by the hour.”
+
+“To you--” said Roger. “I should not think he would have anything in
+common with a lady like you.”
+
+“Ah, Roger, there is beauty in every human soul,” said the little
+old lady, eloquently. “The trouble is we are all too much taken up
+with externals. There is something pathetic to me about this man.
+Hard-working, ambitious, longing for congenial companionship, not
+knowing just where to get it, he keeps on at his daily treadmill. He
+has got to be a kind of machine, and he has tried to stifle the spirit
+within him. Berty, with her youth and freshness, has, in some way or
+other, the knack of putting her finger on some sensitive nerve that
+responds easily to her touch. He is becoming quite interested in what
+she is interested in.”
+
+Roger was staring at her in great amusement. “You talk well, Grandma,
+and at unusual length for you, but a man convinced against his will,
+you know--”
+
+The old lady smiled sweetly at him, smiled with the patience of one
+who is willing to wait a long time in order to be understood. Then
+knitting steadily without looking at her work, she gazed far out over
+the beautiful river.
+
+It was very wide just here, and, now that evening was falling, they
+could barely distinguish the fields and white farmhouses on the other
+side. The stars were coming out one by one--those “beautiful seeds sown
+in the field of the sky.” Roger could see the old lady’s lips moving.
+She was probably repeating some favourite passages of Scripture. What a
+good woman she was. What a help to him, and what a valuable supplement
+to his own mother, who was a woman of another type.
+
+His eyes grew moist, and for a long time he sat gazing with her at the
+darkening yet increasingly beautiful sky and river.
+
+The hammering went on below, until Berty’s voice suddenly rang out.
+“We’ll have to stop, Mr. Jimson. It’s getting too dark to see where to
+put the nails.”
+
+“I’ll come help you to-morrow evening,” replied the Mayor, in his
+thick, good-natured voice.
+
+“No, thank you. I won’t trouble you. I’ll get a carpenter. You’ve been
+too good already.”
+
+“I like to do it. You’ve no idea how much I enjoy puttering round a
+house,” replied Mr. Jimson. “I never get a chance at home.”
+
+“Why--aren’t there things to do about your house?”
+
+“Yes; but if I get at a thing I’m sure to be interrupted, and then my
+mother doesn’t like to see me carpentering.”
+
+“You ought to have a house of your own,” said Berty, decidedly. “It is
+the duty of every man to marry and bring up a family and to keep it
+together. That helps the Union, but if you have no family you can’t
+keep it together, and you are an unworthy son of this great republic.”
+
+“That’s a fact,” replied the Mayor. “I guess we’ll have a little talk
+about it. I’ll just sit down here on this bench a minute to rest. I’m
+quite blown.”
+
+Berty made no response, or, if she did, it was in such a low tone that
+the occupants of the veranda could not hear, and presently the Mayor
+went on.
+
+“Yes, I’ve often thought of getting married. A man ought to, before he
+gets too old. How old would you take me to be?”
+
+“About fifty,” came promptly, in Berty’s clear voice.
+
+Her companion was evidently annoyed, for it was some time before he
+spoke, and then he said, briefly, “Fifty!”
+
+“Well,” said Berty, kindly, “I said _about_ fifty. I dare say you’re
+not much more than forty.”
+
+“I suppose forty seems like dead old age to you?” queried the Mayor,
+curiously.
+
+“Oh, yes--it seems far off like the other side of the river,” replied
+the girl.
+
+“Well, I’m forty-five,” said the Mayor.
+
+“Forty-five,” repeated Berty, musingly, “just think of it! You seem
+quite young in your ways.”
+
+“Young--I dare say I feel as young as you,” he replied. “I wish you
+were a bit older.”
+
+“Why?” asked Berty, innocently.
+
+“Oh, well, I don’t know why,” he replied, with sudden sheepishness.
+
+Roger glanced at Grandma. It was not like her to play eavesdropper.
+
+But dear Grandma was not hearing a word of what was being said below.
+Her knitting had fallen from her hand, her head had dropped forward,
+her cheeks were gently puffing in and out. She was quietly and
+unmistakably asleep.
+
+Roger smiled, and kept on listening. He had no scruples on his own
+account, and he wanted his question answered. Why was the Mayor
+dangling about Berty?
+
+Mr. Jimson was still on the subject of matrimony. The quiet evening,
+the, as he supposed, secluded spot, Berty’s amiability, all tended to
+excite confidence in him.
+
+In response to something he had said, Berty was remarking, with gentle
+severity, “I should think you would talk this matter over with your
+mother rather than with me.”
+
+“Well,” Mr. Jimson said, thoughtfully, “it’s queer how you can tell
+things to strangers, easier than to your mother.”
+
+“_I_ couldn’t,” said Berty, promptly. “If I were thinking of getting
+married, I’d ask Grandma to advise me. She’s had _so_ much experience.
+She chose Roger of all Margaretta’s admirers.”
+
+“Did she, now?” said the Mayor, in admiration. “That was a first-class
+choice.” Then he asked, insinuatingly, “And have you ever consulted
+her for yourself?”
+
+“Of course not--not yet. It’s too soon.”
+
+“I suppose it is,” said Mr. Jimson, in a disappointed voice, “and, as I
+said before, I wish you were ten years older.”
+
+“You don’t mean to say that you would think of me for yourself?” asked
+Berty, in a sudden, joyful voice.
+
+“Yes, I would,” he replied, boldly.
+
+“Oh, thank you, thank you,” said the girl, gaily; “that’s my first
+proposal, or, rather, I suppose it isn’t a _bona fide_ proposal. It’s
+just a hint. Still it counts. I’ve really got out into life. Margaretta
+has always kept me down where gentlemen were concerned. Older sisters
+have to, you know. I’ll be just dreadfully interested in you after
+this. Do let me pick you out a wife.”
+
+“Well, I don’t know about that,” said the Mayor, guardedly.
+
+“Just tell me what you want,” continued Berty. “I know lots of girls,
+but I suppose you will want a woman. I know some of them, too--must she
+be light or dark?”
+
+Mr. Jimson looked at Berty. “Black hair.”
+
+“Very well--black hair to start with. Not tall, but short, I suppose.”
+
+“Why short?” asked the Mayor, suspiciously.
+
+“Well, you’re not dreadfully tall for a man, you know.”
+
+The Mayor seemed to be sulking for some time. Then he said, “I like a
+good-sized woman.”
+
+“Tall and black-haired,” said Berty, in a businesslike way. “Now, do
+you want a quiet woman, or a lively woman--a social woman, or a home
+body?”
+
+“None of your rattlers for me,” said the man, hastily. “I want a quiet
+tongue, good manners, and no wasteful habits.”
+
+“Do you want to entertain much?”
+
+“Oh, law, no!” said her companion, wearily. “Upon my word, I think a
+deaf and dumb wife would suit me best. Then she couldn’t go to parties
+and drag me with her--Look here, there’s a woman I’ve seen sometimes
+when I go to church with my mother, that I’ve often thought was a
+nice-looking kind of person. You’d be sure to know her, for one of her
+brothers is a great friend of your brother-in-law.”
+
+“Who is she?” asked Berty, eagerly.
+
+Her companion seemed to have some hesitation about mentioning the
+name. At last he said, “Mother says her first name is Selina.”
+
+“Not Selina Everest--don’t tell me that,” said Berty, quickly.
+
+“Yes, that’s her name.”
+
+Berty groaned. “And is she the only woman you have in your mind?”
+
+“She’s the only one I can think of now as cutting any kind of a figure
+before me.”
+
+“Selina Everest!” groaned Berty again. “Why don’t you say the Queen
+of England and be done with it? She’s the most exclusive of our
+ridiculously exclusive set. She is an aristocrat to her finger-tips.
+She wouldn’t look at you--that is, I don’t think--she probably
+wouldn’t--”
+
+“How old is she?” asked the Mayor, breaking in upon her.
+
+“Let me see--Tom, her brother, is six years older than I am, Walter is
+twenty-seven, Jim is thirty, Maude is older than he is, and Augustus is
+older than that. Oh, Miss Everest must be nearly forty.”
+
+“Then she’ll jump at a chance to marry,” said the Mayor, coolly. “Has
+she a good temper?”
+
+“Yes,” said Berty, feebly, “but--”
+
+“But what? Does she snap sometimes?”
+
+“No, no, she is always ladylike, but I am just sure she wouldn’t marry
+you.”
+
+“Why are you so sure,” asked the Mayor, sharply.
+
+“Because--because--”
+
+“Am I a red Indian or a cowboy?” asked Mr. Jimson, indignantly.
+
+“No, but--”
+
+“Is she a strong girl?”
+
+“No, she is often in bed--I don’t really think--”
+
+“Airs, probably,” said her companion. “Has been brought up soft. I’d
+break her of that.”
+
+“She wouldn’t marry you,” said Berty, desperately.
+
+“Don’t be too sure of that,” and Mr. Jimson’s voice sounded angry to
+the man on the veranda above.
+
+“I tell you she wouldn’t. I’ve heard her just rave against people who
+don’t do things just as she does. If you ate with your knife, she’d
+think you were dust beneath her feet.”
+
+The Mayor was silent.
+
+“Why, if you wore carpet slippers in the parlour, or a dressing-gown,
+or went about the house in your shirt-sleeves, she’d have a fit.”
+
+“And who does all these things?” asked the Mayor, sneeringly.
+
+“You do!” replied Berty, stung into impertinence. “They say you
+received a delegation of clergymen in your slippers and dressing-gown.”
+
+“That’s a lie,” he said, promptly, “got up by enemies.”
+
+“Well, you don’t talk elegantly,” said Berty, wildly. “Miss Everest
+couldn’t stand that.”
+
+“Who says I ain’t elegant?” asked the Mayor, fiercely.
+
+“I do,” replied his companion. “You say ‘dry’ for thirsty, and ‘I
+ain’t’ for I am not, and ‘git’ for get, and--and lots of other things,
+and you don’t move gracefully. Miss Everest likes tall, thin men. I
+once heard her say so.”
+
+“Is it my fault that I’m short?” roared the Mayor. “I didn’t make
+myself.”
+
+Roger, convulsed with amusement on the veranda above, saw with regret
+that Grandma was waking up.
+
+“Quarrelling again!” she murmured, moving her head about restlessly.
+“Send him home, Berty. Mr. Jimson, don’t mind her.”
+
+Roger had missed something, for Berty was now giving the Mayor a
+terrible scolding. “I think you are a horrid, deceitful man. You come
+here with your mind all made up about a certain woman. You pretend to
+like me, then draw me out about the one you like. I’ll never speak to
+you again.”
+
+Roger hung entranced over the railing. The back gate had just slammed
+on Mr. Jimson, and Berty was pouring out a flood of eloquent endearment
+on the pigeons.
+
+Roger ran down the stairs with a broad smile on his face. There was no
+danger of sentimental nonsense between these two people.
+
+“Hello, Berty,” he said, “want some help with your pidgie widgies?”
+
+“No, Roger,” she replied, disconsolately, “I can’t get the boxes up
+to-night. Still, you might help me cover them some more. I’m dreadfully
+afraid of rats getting at them. There are legions of them down here.”
+
+“You’ve had some one here, haven’t you?” said Roger, hypocritically.
+
+“Yes, that miserable Mayor, but he’s so disagreeable that I shan’t let
+him help me finish. I’m never going to speak to him again. He’s too
+mean to live.”
+
+“I’ll come and help you,” said Roger, bending over the pigeons to
+conceal his face. “Where are these boxes going in the meantime?”
+
+“Up on top of those barrels. Aren’t those fan-tails sweet? Oh, you
+lubbie dubbies, Berty loves you better than the hateful old Mayor.”
+
+Roger laughed outright, helped his young sister-in-law at the same
+time, and wondered whether the breach between her and her new friend
+would be final.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+A PROPOSED SUPPER-PARTY
+
+
+Two mornings later, Roger had come down to River Street with a basket
+of green stuff for Grandma.
+
+One result of his wife’s new economy was that he had turned errand-boy.
+He grumbled a little about it, but Margaretta was inexorable.
+
+“You want me to save,” she said. “I’m going to do it. You can just as
+well run down to River Street before you go to your office, as for me
+to give a boy ten cents for doing it.”
+
+“Ten cents is a paltry sum.”
+
+“Yes, but ten tens are not paltry, and if you save ten cents twenty
+times you have two dollars. Now trot along!” and Roger always trotted,
+smiling as he went.
+
+On this particular morning, Grandma, after gratefully receiving the
+basket, stood turning over the crisp, green lettuce, the parsley,
+beets, and lovely flowers with her slender fingers, when Berty
+appeared fresh and rosy.
+
+“Oh, Roger, dear,” she cried, flying to her writing-desk when she saw
+him, “wait a moment and take a note to the city hall, will you?”
+
+“Yes, Miss Lobbyist,” said her brother-in-law, good-naturedly.
+
+“Why, this is to the Mayor,” he said, in pretended surprise, when she
+handed him her note.
+
+“Yes, why not?” asked Berty, opening her eyes wide.
+
+“I thought you had done with him.”
+
+“Oh, that quarrel,” said Berty, carelessly, “that was two whole days
+ago. I’ve had two bouquets, and a bag of some new kind of feed for the
+pigeons from him since then. I’m doing him a favour now. There’s some
+one coming here to supper to-night that he’d like to meet.”
+
+“Who is it?” asked Roger, curiously.
+
+“Selina Everest.”
+
+“I shouldn’t think he’d be her style,” said the young man, guilelessly.
+
+“He isn’t,” sighed Berty, “but he likes her, and I’m bound to give them
+a chance to meet. I hope she won’t snub him.”
+
+“She is too much of a lady to do that,” said Roger.
+
+“You’re right,” replied Berty, but she sighed again.
+
+Roger’s eyes sparkled. “Grandma,” he said, abruptly turning to her,
+“it is some time since Margaretta and I have had a meal in your house.
+Can’t you invite us, too? We both like Selina.”
+
+“Certainly, come by all means,” said the little old lady.
+
+Berty looked doubtful and did not second the invitation.
+
+“What time is supper?” asked Roger.
+
+Grandma looked at Berty. “I let her have her own way about the meals.
+Breakfast is at eight, dinner at twelve--the universal hour on this
+street--high tea at six, supper is a movable feast--what time to-night,
+granddaughter?”
+
+“Ten,” said Berty, promptly, “but we’ll sit on the veranda first and
+talk. Some one must keep at the piano all the time, playing dreamy
+music.”
+
+“All right,” said Roger, promptly, “we’ll be here.”
+
+Berty followed him to the street door. “You’ll be nice to the Mayor.”
+
+“Nice!--I guess so.”
+
+“But don’t be too nice--don’t make fun of him.”
+
+“Berty!” he said, reproachfully.
+
+“Oh, you wouldn’t make fun of him openly,” she said, with sudden wrath,
+“but I know that look in your eyes,” and with a decided tap on the back
+she sent him out the front door.
+
+Roger, chuckling with delight as he made his way to the iron works, ran
+into Tom Everest.
+
+“What are you laughing at?” asked Tom, with his own eyes shining.
+
+“Can’t tell,” said Roger.
+
+“I’ll bet it was some joke about Berty,” remarked Tom.
+
+“Oh, Berty! Berty!” exclaimed his friend, “all the world is thinking
+Berty, and dreaming Berty, and seeing Berty. You’re a crank, Everest.”
+
+“It was Berty,” said Tom, decidedly. “Come, now, out with it.”
+
+“She’s going to have a party to-night,” said Roger, exploding with
+laughter; “your sister Selina and the Mayor, my wife and I.”
+
+“I’m going too,” said Tom, firmly.
+
+Roger caught him by the shoulder. “Man, if I find you there to-night,
+I’ll shoot you.”
+
+“I’m going,” said Tom, and he backed into his insurance office, leaving
+Roger wildly waving his market-basket at him from the street.
+
+A few hours later, Roger looked up at his wife as he sat at the
+lunch-table, and said, “Don’t you want to go to Grandma’s this evening?”
+
+“Yes, dear, if you do,” she replied, holding out his cup of bouillon
+for him.
+
+At luncheon they were obliged to wait on themselves, and Roger vowed
+that he liked it.
+
+“All right, dear,” he said, as he carefully took the hot bouillon from
+her, “we’ll go.”
+
+“After dinner, I suppose?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Any one else going?” asked Margaretta.
+
+“She expects some others--Selina Everest for one.”
+
+“That’s nice,” said Margaretta, emphatically.
+
+“And the Mayor,” added Roger.
+
+“Oh!” and Margaretta drew a long breath. “I have never met him.”
+
+“Don’t you want to?”
+
+“Oh, yes,” she said, lingeringly.
+
+“Very well. I’ll come home a bit early.”
+
+Margaretta, brimming over with satisfaction, gazed affectionately at
+him. “Roger, you look ten years younger than you did four weeks ago.”
+
+“I’ve got the burden of foreboding off my shoulders,” he said, giving
+them a slight shake as he spoke.
+
+“A burden that will never be placed there again, I hope.”
+
+Roger smiled, and, looking at her happy face, said, earnestly,
+“Margaretta, every day of my life I thank God for the good fortune that
+made you my partner for life.”
+
+While Roger was talking to his wife, Berty was having a somewhat
+excited interview with the Mayor.
+
+“Just grabbed ten minutes from lunch-hour,” he said, “to run up and
+thank you for your invitation for to-night--now what shall I wear?
+Dress suit?”
+
+Berty looked him over. No young girl going to her first ball ever
+waited a reply with more anxiety than he did.
+
+“Let me see,” she said, thoughtfully. “We shall be sitting
+out-of-doors. I think I would not wear evening dress. Have you got a
+nice dark suit?”
+
+“Yes, just got one from the tailor.”
+
+“Good--put that on.”
+
+“And what kind of a tie?” he asked, feverishly.
+
+“Oh, I don’t know--white, I think. That is cool and nice for summer.”
+
+“Can’t I wear red?” he asked, anxiously.
+
+“Well, yes, a certain shade, but you’d have to be very particular. Why
+do you wish red?”
+
+“I--I--a woman once told me I looked well in red,” he said, sheepishly.
+
+Berty surveyed him as an indulgent mother might survey a child.
+
+“Very well, wear red. It is a great thing to have something on that you
+feel at ease in. But, as I say, you must be very particular about the
+shade. I’ll run up-stairs and get a piece of silk, and do you try to
+match it,” and she darted away.
+
+Mr. Jimson occupied the time while she was gone in walking about the
+room, nervously mopping his face, and staring out the window at the
+carriage waiting for him.
+
+“Here it is,” exclaimed Berty, running back, “the precise shade. Now
+_do_ be particular.”
+
+“You’re real good,” he replied, gratefully, and, pocketing the scrap,
+he was hurrying away, when he turned back. “What time shall I come?
+Can’t I get here before the others?”
+
+“Yes, do,” replied Berty, “come about half-past seven.”
+
+“All right--thank you,” and he rushed away.
+
+Berty followed him to the front door. “Mr. Jimson,” she called, when
+his hand was on the door-knob.
+
+“Hello!” and he turned back.
+
+“You won’t be offended with me if I say something?” she replied,
+hesitatingly.
+
+“Not a bit of it.”
+
+“Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t talk too much to-night. Dignified
+reserve impresses women.”
+
+“All right,” he said, good-naturedly. “I’m safe enough, if I don’t get
+rattled. Then I’m apt to make a fool of myself and gabble. Sometimes
+in making a speech I can’t wind up, even if I see people looking mad
+enough to kill me.”
+
+“Don’t do that!” exclaimed Berty. “Oh, don’t be long-winded. Just sit
+and watch Miss Everest.”
+
+“All right,” said the Mayor, “till this evening!” and he ran down the
+steps.
+
+“Oh, dear,” murmured Berty, as she went up-stairs, “I’m dreadfully in
+doubt about this party. I wish Margaretta and Roger weren’t coming. The
+Mayor has been working himself into a state over Miss Everest. If he
+doesn’t please her he’ll blame me. Oh, dear!”
+
+“What’s the matter, granddaughter?” asked a cheery voice.
+
+“I’m in trouble, Grandma. The Mayor likes Miss Everest. That’s why I’m
+asking him here to meet her, but I’m afraid things won’t go right.”
+
+“Poor little matchmaker,” said Grandma, soothingly.
+
+“Did I do right, Grandma? I would have consulted you before, but I
+didn’t like to give his secret away.”
+
+“You did what a kind heart would prompt you to do. Don’t worry--I will
+help you with your party.”
+
+“Will you?--oh, that is lovely. Everything will go right!” and she
+threw both arms round her grandmother’s neck.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+A DISTURBED HOSTESS
+
+
+Unfortunately for Berty, a woman across the street chose the hour of
+seven o’clock to have a fit of hysterics. Nothing would satisfy her
+perturbed relatives but a visit from “Madam,” as Grandma was known to
+the street.
+
+Half-past seven came, and no Mayor. Selina Everest, tall, pale, and
+lilylike, in white and green, arrived soon after, then came Margaretta
+and Roger, and then, to Berty’s dismay, appeared Tom Everest, dropping
+in as if he expected to find her alone.
+
+Berty said nothing, but her face grew pinker. Then she swept them all
+out to the semi-darkness of the veranda. The Mayor should not step into
+that brightly lighted room and find them all there.
+
+Wedged comfortably on the veranda, and talking over mutual friends,
+Margaretta, Selina, and Tom were having a charming time. Roger, seated
+by the glass door, was restless, and kept moving in and out the
+dining-room.
+
+Berty was like a bird, perching here and there, and running at
+intervals to the front windows, ostensibly to watch for her
+grandmother, in reality to seize upon the Mayor at the earliest moment
+of his arrival.
+
+Margaretta and Selina were in a corner of the veranda. Tom was nearest
+the dining-room, and presently there was a whisper in his ear. “Jimson
+has arrived--hot--mad--explanatory--detained--Berty condoling.”
+
+Not a muscle of Tom’s face moved, and Roger, turning on his heel,
+departed.
+
+Presently he came back. “Berty frantic--Jimson has got on wrong kind of
+necktie. She has corralled him behind piano.”
+
+Poor Berty--she had indeed driven the unhappy late-comer behind the
+upright piano in the parlour. “Oh, Mr. Jimson, how could you? That
+necktie is a bright green!”
+
+“Gr--green!” stuttered the discomfited man. “Why, I matched your
+sample.”
+
+“You’re colour blind!” exclaimed the girl, in despair. “Oh, what shall
+we do--but your suit is lovely,” she added, as she saw the wilting
+effect of her words upon him. “Come, quick, before any one sees,” and
+she hurried him out into the hall. “Here, go in that corner while I get
+one of my shirt-waist ties.”
+
+Mr. Jimson, hot and perspiring, tried to obliterate himself against the
+wall until she came back.
+
+“Here is a pale blue tie,” said Berty. “Now stand before the glass in
+that hat-rack,--give me that green thing. Selina Everest would have a
+fit if she saw it.”
+
+The Mayor hastily tore off the bit of brilliant grass-green silk, and,
+seizing Berty’s blue satin, endeavoured to fasten it round his creaking
+collar.
+
+Roger peeped out through the dining-room door and went back to Tom, and
+in a convulsion of wicked delight reported. “He’s titivating in the
+hall--has got on one of Berty’s ties. Just creep out to see him.”
+
+Tom could not resist, and seeing that Margaretta and his sister were
+deep in the mysteries of coming fashions in dress, he tiptoed into the
+dining-room.
+
+Berty and the Mayor out in the hall were too much engaged with each
+other to heed the peeping eyes at the crack of the dining-room door.
+
+Mr. Jimson was in a rage, and was sputtering unintelligible words.
+Berty, too, was getting excited. “If you say a naughty word,” she
+threatened, “I’ll take that tie away from you, and you’ll have to go
+home!”
+
+The Mayor, wrathfully beating one foot up and down on the oilcloth, was
+trying to make the tie tie itself.
+
+“Hang it!” he said, at last, throwing it down, “the thing won’t go at
+all. It was made for some woman’s neck. Give me that green thing.”
+
+“You sha’n’t have it,” Berty flared up. “You will spoil yourself. Here,
+let me have the blue one. I’ll fasten it for you, if you’ll never tell
+any one I did it.”
+
+Tom and Roger nearly exploded into unseemly merriment. The sight of the
+unfortunate Jimson’s face, the mingled patience and wrath of Berty,
+made them clap their hands over their mouths.
+
+“There!” cried Berty, at last, “it’s tied. You men have no patience.
+Look round now. Come softly into the dining-room and drink some
+lemonade before I introduce you--no, stay here, I’ll bring it to you.
+Smooth your hair on the left side.”
+
+The unfortunate man, breathing heavily, stood like a statue, while Tom
+and Roger tumbled over each other out to the veranda.
+
+“What are you two laughing at?” asked Margaretta, suspiciously.
+
+“At that black cloud there,” said Tom, pointing to the sky. “See it
+dragging itself over the stars. I say, Stanisfield, doesn’t that cloud
+strike you as being of a comical shape?”
+
+“Very,” exclaimed Roger, with sudden laughter, “very comical. Trails
+out just like a four-in-hand necktie.”
+
+“Very like it,” echoed Tom; then they both laughed again.
+
+In the midst of their merriment, a quiet, patient voice was heard
+saying, “Margaretta, let me introduce Mr. Jimson to you,--and Miss
+Everest, Mr. Jimson.”
+
+Tom and Roger huddled aside like two naughty boys, and Berty, with the
+Mayor behind her, stepped to the other end of the veranda.
+
+Margaretta stretched out a slim, pretty hand. Miss Everest did
+likewise, and the Mayor, breathing hard and fast, turned to the two
+men. “I don’t need an introduction to you.”
+
+“No,” they both said, shaking hands with a sudden and overwhelming
+solemnity.
+
+They all sat down, and an uninterrupted and uninteresting chatter
+began. Every one but the Mayor was good-naturedly trying to make
+Berty’s party a success, and every one was unconsciously defeating
+this object by engaging in trifling and stupid small talk.
+
+“We’re not having a bit of a good time,” said Berty, at last,
+desperately. “Let’s go into the house.”
+
+They all smiled, and followed her into the parlour. Here at least the
+Mayor would be able to look at Miss Everest. Out on the veranda he
+could not see her at all.
+
+Quite unconscious of the others, he stared uninterruptedly at her. She
+was apparently oblivious of him, and was again talking fashions to
+Margaretta.
+
+But Tom and Roger--Berty glared wrathfully at them. They were examining
+one of Grandma’s books of engravings taken from Italian paintings, and
+if it had been the latest number of some comic paper they would not
+have had more fun over it.
+
+“Here is a framed one,” she said, taking a picture from the mantel,
+“by Sandro Botticelli.” Then, as she got close to them, she said,
+threateningly, “If you two don’t stop giggling, I’ll shame you before
+everybody!”
+
+They tried to be good, they honestly did. They did not want to tease
+the kind little sister, but something had come over the two men--they
+were just like two bad schoolboys. If Mr. Jimson had been aware of
+their mirth, they would have ceased, but just now he was so utterly
+unconscious--so wrapped up in the contemplation of Miss Everest, that
+they went on enjoying their secret pleasure with the luxury of good men
+who seldom indulge in a joke at the expense of others, but who rival
+the most thoughtless and frivolous when once they set out to amuse
+themselves.
+
+Yes, Mr. Jimson was staring and silent, but after a time his silence
+ceased, and he began to talk. To talk for no apparent reason, and on no
+apparent subject.
+
+Margaretta and Selina, who had been paying very little attention to
+him, courteously paused to listen, and he went on. Went on, till Berty
+began to twitch in dismay, and to wink--at first slyly and secretly,
+then openly and undisguisedly at him.
+
+It was of no use. He had got “rattled,” as he had predicted, and was
+bound to have his say out. He made her a slight sign with his head to
+assure her that he understood her signals, and would if he could pay
+attention to them, but he was too far gone.
+
+Berty was in despair. Tom and Roger, to keep themselves from downright
+shouting, were also talking very fast and very glibly about nothing in
+particular.
+
+Berty, in utter dismay, turned her head to her three groups of
+guests--Selina and Margaretta gently and wonderingly polite, the Mayor
+seated by a small table flooding the air with garrulity, and Tom and
+Roger in the shade of the big piano lamp, expounding all sorts of
+nonsensical theories and fancies.
+
+Tom just now was on language. “Yes, my dear fellow,” he was saying,
+rapidly and with outstretched arm, “language is a wonderful thing. I
+may say that to see a young child grappling with the problem is an
+awe-inspiring and remarkable sight. Sometimes when it fills the air
+with its incoherent longings and strivings after oral utterance, after
+the sounds which custom has made the representation of ideas, the soul
+of the beholder is struck dumb with admiration, and even I may say
+terror. If such is the power of the infant brain, what will be the
+grasp of the adult?”
+
+At this instant Grandma entered the room. She took in the situation
+at a glance, and her presence afforded instant relief. The flood of
+“Jimsonese,” as Roger and Tom styled the Mayor’s eloquence, instantly
+ceased, the two bad boys shut their mouths.
+
+Grandma shook hands with all her guests, then quietly sat down.
+
+“I hope you are not very tired,” said Margaretta, gently. “How is your
+patient?”
+
+“Better--she only wanted a little comfort.”
+
+“What made her have hysterics?” asked Berty, eagerly, and with a desire
+to make much of the latest addition to their circle.
+
+Grandma smiled. “She is a very nervous woman, and has been up nights a
+great deal with a sick baby. She lay down about two hours ago to take
+a nap. The house has a great many mice in it, and one got in her hair.
+It was entangled for a few seconds, and she was terrified. It would be
+very much more afraid of her than she would be of it.”
+
+Tom and Roger laughed uproariously, so uproariously and joyfully that
+Grandma’s black eyes went to them, rested on them, and did not leave
+them.
+
+But they did not care. They had not enjoyed themselves so much for
+years, and they were going to continue doing so, although their
+punishment was bound to come. Presently, when the conversation between
+Grandma, Margaretta, Selina, and Berty became really interrupted by
+their giggling, the old lady left her seat and came over to them.
+
+“Have you been acting like this all the evening?” she asked, severely.
+
+Tom looked at Roger, and Roger looked at Tom.
+
+“And teasing poor Berty?”
+
+Again they looked at each other.
+
+“When I was a girl,” said Grandma, musingly, “I remember getting into
+those gales of laughter. How I revelled in that intoxication of the
+spirit! I would even scream with delight, and if I were alone with my
+girl companions would sometimes roll on the ground in ecstasy. You are
+pretty old for such pranks, but I see you are ready for one. You ought
+to be alone for a time. Follow me,” and she left the room.
+
+She took them down-stairs. “Where are we going?” asked Roger, humbly,
+and nudging Tom.
+
+“Out with the pigeons,” she said. “There is no room in my house for
+guests who make fun of each other.”
+
+“But the supper?” said Roger, anxiously.
+
+“It would grieve Berty’s hospitable heart for you to miss that,” said
+Grandma, “so when you have quite finished your laughing, come up-stairs
+again, and we will all have a nice time together.”
+
+Tom gave Roger a thwack, then, as he found himself in a latticed porch,
+and contemplated by a number of mild-faced, inquiring pigeons, he
+dropped on a box and began to snicker again.
+
+“What set you off?” asked the old lady, curiously.
+
+They both began to tell her of poor Berty’s trials with the Mayor.
+
+Grandma laughed too. “There is something funny about that friendship,”
+she said, “but there is no harm, but rather good in it, and I shall not
+put a stop to it. Do you know that man would make a good husband for
+your sister, Tom Everest?”
+
+Tom at this became so silly, and began to pound Roger on the back in
+such an idiotic manner, that Grandma gently closed the door and stole
+away.
+
+Going up the steps, she could hear them laughing--now in Homeric
+fashion. There were no women about to be startled by their noise.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+AN ANXIOUS MIND
+
+
+“How did I act?” asked the Mayor, humbly. It was eight o’clock the next
+morning, and he was standing before Berty as she took her breakfast
+alone, Grandma having gone across the street to visit her hysterical
+patient.
+
+Berty thoughtfully drank some coffee.
+
+“I’d take a cup, too, if you’d offer it to me,” he said, still more
+humbly, and sitting down opposite her. “Somehow or other I hadn’t much
+appetite this morning, and only took a bite of breakfast.”
+
+Berty, still in silence, poured him out a cup of strong coffee, and put
+in it a liberal supply of cream. Then, pushing the sugar-bowl toward
+him, she again devoted herself to her own breakfast.
+
+“You’re ashamed of me,” said the Mayor, lifting lumps of sugar into his
+cup with a downcast air. “I gabbled.”
+
+“Yes, you gabbled,” said Berty, quietly.
+
+“But I’m going to make an impression,” said the Mayor, slapping the
+table with one hand. “I’m going to make that woman look at me, and size
+me up, if she doesn’t do anything more.”
+
+“She sized you up last night,” said Berty, mournfully.
+
+“Did she say anything about me?” asked Mr. Jimson, eagerly.
+
+“Not a word--but she looked unutterable things.”
+
+“Do you think I’d better call on her?” he asked, desperately.
+
+“Oh, gracious, no!” cried Berty, “you’d spoil everything. Leave matters
+to me in future.”
+
+“I thought I might explain,” he said, with a crestfallen air.
+
+“What would you explain?” asked Berty, cuttingly.
+
+“I’d tell her--well, I’d just remark casually after we’d spoken about
+the weather that she might have noticed that there was something queer,
+or that I was a little out in some of my remarks--”
+
+“Well,” said Berty, severely, “what then?”
+
+“I’d just inform her, in a passing way, that I’d always been a steady
+man, and that if she would kindly overlook the past--”
+
+“Oh! oh!” ejaculated Berty, “you wouldn’t hint to a lady that she might
+have thought you were under the influence of some stimulant?”
+
+“N-n-no, not exactly,” blundered the Mayor, “but I might quote a little
+poetry about the intoxication of her presence--I cut a fine piece out
+of the paper the other day. Perhaps I might read it to her.”
+
+Berty put her arm down on the table and laughed. “Well, if you’re not
+the oddest man. You are just lovely and original.”
+
+The Mayor looked at her doubtfully, and drank his coffee. Then he got
+up. “I don’t want you to think I’m not in earnest about this business.
+I never give up anything I’ve set my mind on, and I like that woman,
+and I want her to be Mrs. Peter Jimson.”
+
+Berty shivered. “Oh, dear, dear! how badly you will feel if she makes
+up her mind to be Mrs. Somebody Else--but I’ll help you all I can. You
+have a great ally in me.”
+
+“I’m obliged to you,” said the Mayor, gruffly.
+
+“I was ashamed of those other two men last evening,” said Berty,
+getting up and walking out toward the hall with him. “I wanted to shake
+them.”
+
+“I didn’t take much stock in their actions,” said the Mayor,
+indifferently. “They just felt funny, and would have carried on whether
+I had been there or not.”
+
+“How forgiving in you--how noble,” said Berty, warmly.
+
+“Nothing noble about it--I know men, and haven’t any curiosity about
+them. It’s you women that bother the life out of me. I don’t know how
+to take you.”
+
+“It’s only a little past eight,” said Berty, suddenly. “Can’t you come
+down to the wharf with me? You don’t need to go to town yet.”
+
+“Yes, I suppose so,” said the Mayor, reluctantly.
+
+Berty caught up her sailor hat, and tripped beside him down to the
+street, talking on any subject that came uppermost.
+
+The Mayor, however, returned to his first love. “Now, if there was
+something I could do to astonish her,” he said. “If her house got on
+fire, and I could rescue her, or if she fell out of a boat into the
+river, and I could pull her in.”
+
+“She’s pretty tall,” said Berty, turning and surveying the rather short
+man by her side. “I doubt if you could pull her in.”
+
+“If I got a good grip I could,” he said, confidently.
+
+“The worst of it is, those heroic things don’t happen once in an age,”
+said Berty, in a matter-of-fact voice, “and, anyway, a woman would
+rather you would please her in a thousand little ways than in one big
+one.”
+
+“What do you call little ways?” asked the Mayor.
+
+“Oh, being nice.”
+
+“And what is niceness?” he went on, in an unsatisfied voice.
+
+“Niceness?--well, it is hard to tell. Pick up her gloves if she drops
+them, never cross her, always kiss her good-bye in the morning, and
+tell her she’s the sweetest woman in the world when you come home in
+the evening.”
+
+“Well, now,” said the Mayor, in an aggrieved voice, “as if I’m likely
+to have the chance. You won’t even let me call on her.”
+
+“No, don’t you go near her,” said Berty, “not for awhile. Not till I
+sound her about you.”
+
+“How do you think I stand now with her?” asked Mr. Jimson, with a
+downcast air.
+
+“Well, to tell the truth,” said Berty, frankly, “I think it’s this way.
+She wasn’t inclined to pay much attention to you at first, not any
+more than if you were a table or a chair. When you began to talk she
+observed you, and I think she was saying to herself, ‘What kind of a
+man is this?’ Then when Grandma drove Tom and Roger out of the room, I
+think she wanted to laugh.”
+
+“Then she must have been a little interested,” said the man,
+breathlessly.
+
+“No,” said Berty, gravely, “when a woman laughs at a man, it’s all up
+with him.”
+
+“Then you think I might as well give up?” said the Mayor, bitterly.
+
+“Not at all,” said his sympathizer, kindly. “There may fall to you some
+lucky chance to reinstate yourself.”
+
+“Now what could it be?” asked Mr. Jimson, eagerly. “What should I be
+looking out for?”
+
+“Look out for everything,” said Berty, oracularly. “She will forget
+about the other night.”
+
+“I thought you told me the other day that women never forget.”
+
+“Neither they do,” said Berty, promptly, “never, never.”
+
+“According to all I can make out,” said the Mayor, with a chagrined
+air, “you women have all the airs and graces of a combine, and none of
+its understandabilities. Your way of doing business don’t suit me.
+When I spot a bargain I jump on it. I close the affair before another
+fellow has a chance. That’s how I’ve made what little money I have.”
+
+“You mustn’t make love the way you do business,” said Berty, shaking
+her head. “Oh, no, no.”
+
+“Well, now, isn’t it business to want a good wife?”
+
+“Yes,” said Berty, promptly, “and I admire your up-to-date spirit.
+There’s been a lot of nonsense talked about roses, and cottages, and
+heavenly eyes, and delicious noses and chins. I believe in being
+practical. You want this kind of a wife--look for her. Don’t fall in
+love with some silly thing, and then get tired of her in a week.”
+
+“What kind of a husband would you like?” asked the Mayor, curiously.
+
+“Well,” said Berty, drawing in a long breath of the crisp morning air.
+“I want a tall, slight man, with brown curly hair and gray eyes.”
+
+“That’ll be a hard combination to find,” said her companion, grimly.
+
+“Yes, but I shall think all the more of him when I find him, and
+he must be clever, very clever--ahead of all the men in his State,
+whichever State it happens to be--and he must have a perfect temper,
+because I have a very faulty one, and he must be of a noble
+disposition, and looked up to by every one he knows.”
+
+“I never met that kind of a man,” said the Mayor, drily.
+
+“Nor I,” said Berty, “but there must be such a man in the world.”
+
+“How about Tom Everest?” asked Mr. Jimson. “I saw him looking at you
+last night.”
+
+“Tom Everest!” exclaimed Berty, indignantly. “An insurance agent!”
+
+The Mayor snickered enjoyably, then fell behind a step, for they had
+just reached the entrance of Milligan’s Wharf.
+
+Berty was talking to some little girls who, even at this early hour,
+were hanging about the gate of the new park.
+
+“Of course you may come in,” she said, producing a key from her pocket.
+“The workmen have about finished--there are a few loose boards about,
+but I will take care that they don’t fall on you.”
+
+With squeals of delight, the little girls dashed ahead, then stood
+staring about them.
+
+Milligan’s Wharf had indeed been transformed. A high fence surrounded
+it on every side, one end had been smoothed and levelled for games, the
+other was grassy and planted with trees.
+
+“Those elms will be kept trimmed,” said Berty, “except in midsummer.
+I am determined that these River Street children shall have enough
+sunlight for once--just look at those little girls.”
+
+The Mayor smiled broadly. Like discoverers who have fallen on some rich
+store of treasure, the little girls had espied a huge heap of sand, and
+had precipitated themselves upon it.
+
+“Isn’t it queer how crazy children get over sand?” said Berty. Then
+she stepped into a small gate-house. “Here, children, are pails and
+shovels. Now have a good time.”
+
+The little shovels were plied vigorously, but they were not quick
+enough for the children, and presently abandoning them, they rolled in
+delight over the soft sandy mass.
+
+“There is no doubt that our park will be a success,” said Berty, with a
+smile.
+
+“By the way,” asked the Mayor, shrewdly, “who is to look after these
+children? If you turn all the hoodlums of the neighbourhood in, there
+will be scrapping.”
+
+“I was thinking of that,” said Berty, wrinkling her brows. “We ought to
+have some man or woman here. But we have no money to pay any one.”
+
+“I suppose you wouldn’t take such a position,” said the Mayor.
+
+“I!” exclaimed Berty, “why, I’d love it.”
+
+“You wouldn’t need to stay all the time,” said Mr. Jimson. “You could
+get a woman to help you.”
+
+“All the women about here are pretty busy.”
+
+“You’d pay her, of course. There’d have to be a salary--not a heavy
+one--but I could fix up something with the city council. They’ve built
+the park. They’re bound to provide for it.”
+
+“I should love to earn some money,” said Berty, eagerly, “but, Mr.
+Jimson, perhaps people would talk and say I had just had the park made
+to create a position for myself.”
+
+“Suppose they did--what would you care?”
+
+“Why, I’d care because I didn’t.”
+
+“And no one would think you had. Don’t worry about that. Now I must get
+back to town.”
+
+“Mind you’re to make the first speech to-morrow at the opening of this
+place,” said Berty.
+
+“Yes, I remember.”
+
+“And,” she went on, hesitatingly, “don’t you think you’d better commit
+your speech to paper? Then you’d know when to stop.”
+
+“No, I wouldn’t,” he said, hopelessly. “Something would prompt me to
+make a few oral remarks after I’d laid down the paper.”
+
+“I should like you to make a good speech, because Miss Everest will be
+here.”
+
+“Will she? Then I must try to fix myself. How shall I do it?”
+
+“I might have a pile of boards arranged at the back of the park,” said
+Berty, “and as soon as you laid down the paper, I’d give a signal to a
+boy to topple them over. In the crash you could sit down.”
+
+“No, I wouldn’t,” he said, drearily. “I’d wait till the fuss was over,
+then I’d go on.”
+
+“And that wouldn’t be a good plan, either,” said Berty, “because some
+one might get hurt. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You give me a sheet of
+paper just the size of that on which you write your speech. Mind, now,
+and write it. Don’t commit it. And don’t look at this last sheet till
+you stand on the platform and your speech is finished.”
+
+“What will be on it?” asked Mr. Jimson, eagerly.
+
+“The most awful hobgoblin you ever saw. I used to draw beauties at
+school. When you see this hobgoblin you won’t be able to think of
+anything else. Just fix your eyes on his terrible eyes, and you will
+sit down in the most natural way possible.”
+
+“Maybe I will,” he said, with a sigh, “but I doubt it--you’re a good
+girl, anyway.”
+
+“Oh, no. I’m not, Mr. Mayor, begging your pardon. I’m only trying to be
+one.”
+
+“Well, I’ve got to go,” said her companion, reluctantly. “I wish I
+could skip that stived-up office and go out on the river with you.”
+
+“I wish you could,” said Berty, frankly. “But I’ve got work to do, too.
+I want every clergyman in the town to be present to-morrow. Have your
+speech short, will you, for it will probably be a hot day.”
+
+“All right,” said the Mayor. “Good-bye,” and he trotted away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE OPENING OF THE PARK
+
+
+The next afternoon had come, and was nearly gone. There had been a
+crowd of people at the opening of the Milligan Wharf Park. Ragged
+children, sailors, day-labourers, and poor women of the neighbourhood
+had stood shoulder to shoulder with some of the first citizens of the
+town--citizens who in the whole course of their lives had never been on
+this street before.
+
+The well-dressed spectators had looked about them with interest. This
+fad of Mrs. Travers’s young granddaughter had excited much attention.
+She had carried her scheme through, and many curious glances had been
+sent in the direction of the suddenly shy, smiling girl, trying to
+hide behind the stately little grandmother, who sat looking as if the
+opening of parks for poor children were a daily occurrence in her life.
+
+There had been room for some of the audience in the long, low shed
+erected for a playroom for the children on rainy days; however, many
+persons had been obliged to sit on benches placed in the hot sunlight,
+therefore the opening exercises had been arranged to be exceedingly
+short.
+
+The Mayor, unfortunately, had transgressed, as he had prophesied he
+would do. However, in his speech he had, to Berty’s delight, carefully
+abstained from mentioning the part she had taken in procuring the
+park for the children of River Street. But succeeding speakers had so
+eulogized the self-sacrificing and public-spirited girl, that finally
+she had slipped away into one of the summer-houses, where, now that all
+was over, she was talking with her grandmother.
+
+They had the park to themselves as far as grown persons were concerned.
+The rich and well-to-do people had filed away. The poor men and women
+of the neighbourhood had gone to their homes for their early evening
+meal.
+
+“They say every rose has a thorn,” exclaimed Berty. “Where is the thorn
+in this?” and she waved her hand about the huge playground where scores
+of children were disporting themselves.
+
+“It is here,” said Grandma. “Don’t lose heart when you see it.”
+
+“Do you see it?” asked Berty, pointedly.
+
+“Yes, dear.”
+
+“And what is it?”
+
+“That there must be some one here every minute of the time to see
+that the big children do not impose on the little ones. There’s a big
+hulking boy slapping a little one now. I’ll go settle him,” and Grandma
+nimbly walked away.
+
+“That is no thorn,” said Berty, when she came back. “Mr. Jimson has
+arranged for it. He has just told me that the city council voted me
+last evening five hundred dollars as park supervisor.”
+
+“My dear!” said Grandma, in surprise.
+
+“Isn’t it lovely?” murmured Berty, with flushed cheeks. “Now I can
+pay all the household expenses. With my annuity we shall be quite
+prosperous.”
+
+“The city appreciates what you are doing,” said Grandma, softly, “and
+the Mayor has been a good friend to you.”
+
+“Hasn’t he?” said Berty. “I must not scold him for that awful speech.”
+
+“The opening was good,” said Grandma, mildly.
+
+“Yes, but the middle and the ending,” replied Berty, with a groan.
+
+“Oh, how I suffered--not for myself. I could endure to hear him speak
+for a year. But I do so want him to make a good impression on others.
+His tongue is just like a spool of silk. It unwinds and unwinds and
+unwinds, and never breaks off. Talk about women’s tongues!”
+
+“He is new to public speaking. He will get over it.”
+
+“And I made him such a thrilling hobgoblin,” continued Berty, in an
+aggrieved voice. “Why, I had nightmare last night just in dreaming
+about it.”
+
+“A hobgoblin?” said Grandma, questioningly.
+
+“Yes--to stop him. It was on the last page of his manuscript. You
+remember when he came to the end of his paper, he just stopped a
+minute, smiled a sickly smile, and went on. Why, that hobgoblin didn’t
+frighten him a bit. It inspired him. What was he talking about? What do
+people talk about when they ramble on and on? I can never remember.”
+
+“Berty,” said Mrs. Travers, shrewdly, “you are tired and excited. You
+would better come home. There is Mrs. Provis looking in the gate. She
+will keep an eye on the children.”
+
+“Oh, Mrs. Provis,” said Berty, hurrying to the gate, “won’t you come in
+and sit awhile till I go home and get something to eat? I’ll come back
+presently and lock up.”
+
+“Yes, miss,” said the woman, readily. “That’s a little thing to do for
+you. I guess this street takes store of what you’ve done for our young
+ones.”
+
+“They’re my young ones, too,” said Berty, proudly. “I live on the
+street--we’re all neighbours. Now I’ll go. I won’t be long. Your eldest
+girl can get the supper ready for your husband, can’t she?”
+
+“That she can, miss.”
+
+Berty walked away with her grandmother, and the woman, gazing after
+her, said, “Bless your black head. I’d like to hear any one say
+anything agin you in River Street.”
+
+In an hour Berty was back again, part of her supper in her pocket.
+
+Contentedly eating her bread and butter, she sat on a bench watching
+the children, most of whom absolutely refused to go home, while others
+ran merely for a few mouthfuls of something to eat.
+
+This intoxication of play in a roomy place was a new experience to
+them, and Berty, with an intensely thankful face, watched them until a
+heavy footstep made her turn her head.
+
+The Mayor stood before her, two red spots on his cheeks, and a strange
+light in his eye. “I’ve just been to your house,” he said, “and your
+grandmother sent me here.”
+
+“Did she?” said Berty; then she added, promptly, “What has happened?”
+
+Mr. Jimson heaved a deep, contented sigh, and seated himself beside
+her. “I’m a happy man, Miss Berty.”
+
+“What are you happy about?” she asked, briskly. “It isn’t--it isn’t
+Miss Everest?”
+
+“Yes, it is Miss Everest,” said Mr. Jimson. “Something took place this
+afternoon.”
+
+“Oh, what?--why don’t you tell me? You’re terribly slow.”
+
+“I’m as fast as I can be. I’m not a flash of lightning.”
+
+“No, indeed.”
+
+“Well, I’ve met Miss Everest--she’s talked with me!”
+
+“She has!” cried Berty, joyfully.
+
+“Yes, she has. You know, after the affair this afternoon some of the
+people went to town. Miss Everest was shopping.”
+
+“She always does her shopping in the morning,” interrupted Berty. “All
+the smart set do.”
+
+“Well, I guess she found herself down-town,” said Mr. Jimson,
+good-naturedly, “and couldn’t get by the shops. Anyway, she was coming
+out of that fol-de-rol place where you women buy dolls and ribbons.”
+
+“Oh, you mean Smilax & Wiley’s.”
+
+“Yes, that’s the place. She came out of the door, and, turning her head
+to speak to some one passing her, she almost ran into me. I stopped
+short, you may be sure, and I know you’ll be mad with me when I tell
+you that I forgot to take my hat off.”
+
+“Perhaps I won’t,” said Berty, guardedly. “It depends on what follows.”
+
+“I just stood rooted to the spot, and staring with all my might. She
+grew kind of pink and bowed. I said, ‘Miss Everest,’ then I stopped.
+I guess she was sorry for my dumbness, for she said, in a kind of
+confused way, ‘What a stupid place this is. I’ve been all over it
+trying to match some silk, and I can’t find a scrap.’ And still I never
+said a word. For the life of me I couldn’t think of anything. Then she
+said, ‘That was a very good speech of yours this afternoon.’”
+
+“Now surely you said something in response to that,” interjected Berty,
+“such a gracious thing for her to say.”
+
+“Never a word,” replied the Mayor, seriously, “and, seeing that I
+couldn’t or wouldn’t speak, she went away. After she left, words came
+to me, and I babbled on to myself, till the people began to look at me
+as if they thought I’d gone crazy, then I moved on.”
+
+“Well,” said Berty, with badly suppressed scorn, “this is a great tale.
+Where have you distinguished yourself, pray?”
+
+“Wait a bit,” said Mr. Jimson, soberly. “I haven’t finished. Before I
+left the spot I cast my eyes to the pavement. What did I see but the
+bit of silk she had dropped there.”
+
+“Well,” observed Berty, in a mystified way, when he paused.
+
+“I thought of what you said,” continued the Mayor. “I called up your
+hint about small things. I picked up the bit of silk.”
+
+“And, for goodness’ sake, what did you do with it?” queried Berty, in
+distress. “Some fantastic thing, I’ll be bound.”
+
+“I took it away to my office,” Mr. Jimson went on, solemnly, and with
+the air of keeping back some item of information that when communicated
+would cover him with glory. “I’ve got an office-boy as sharp as a
+needle. I gave him the piece of silk. I said, ‘You hold on to that as
+if it were a fifty-dollar greenback. You take the seven-thirty train
+for Boston. You match that silk, and get back here as quick as you
+can.’”
+
+“Oh! oh!” cried Berty, “how much did you send for?”
+
+“For a pound,” said the Mayor, tragically. “She said she had a peóny to
+work, and they’re pretty big flowers.”
+
+“Péony, not pe-ó-ny,” said Berty, peevishly. Then she thought awhile,
+and the Mayor, losing his deeply satisfied air, sat regarding her in
+bewilderment.
+
+At last she delivered her opinion sibyl-like. “I don’t know whether
+you’ve done a good thing or not. Only time can tell. But I think you
+have.”
+
+“I’ve done just what you told me,” said the astonished man. “You said
+to look out for little things.”
+
+“Yes, but the question is, have you the right yet to look out for
+little things,” said Berty, with some dissatisfaction in her tone.
+“When grandma was married she forgot her wedding-bouquet, and her newly
+made husband had a special train leave here to take it to Bangor, but
+he had the right.”
+
+“Look here,” said the Mayor, and the red spots on his cheeks deepened,
+“you’re criticizing too much. I guess you’d better not interfere
+between Miss Everest and me.”
+
+“You’ll want me to give her that silk when it comes,” said Berty,
+defiantly.
+
+“I did--that’s just what I came to speak to you about, but now I’ll
+give it to her myself.”
+
+“She may not like it.”
+
+“She can like it, or lump it,” said Mr. Jimson, inelegantly; “when that
+parcel comes, I am going to take it to her.”
+
+“Suppose the boy can’t match the silk?”
+
+“He’s got to,” said Mr. Jimson, obstinately.
+
+“But perhaps he can’t; then how will she ever know you sent for it, if
+I don’t tell her. You would like me to in that case, wouldn’t you?”
+
+“I’m no violet,” said Mr. Jimson, disagreeably. “I want to get in with
+Miss Everest, and how can I if I blush unseen?”
+
+“I’ll tell her of your blushes,” said Berty, generously. “Come, now,
+let us be friends again. From my standpoint, I think you have done
+nobly and magnificently.”
+
+“But you were just blaming me.”
+
+“That was from Miss Everest’s standpoint.”
+
+“I’m blessed if I know how to take you,” muttered the confused man.
+“One minute you’re yourself, and the next you’re another woman.”
+
+“That’s feminine reversibility,” said Berty, graciously. “You don’t
+understand us yet. That is the punishment our Creator inflicts upon
+you, for not having studied us more. A pity I hadn’t known you five
+years ago--come, it’s time to lock up here. Oh, Mr. Mayor, can’t we
+have electric lights for this playground?”
+
+With an effort he called back his wandering thoughts which were on the
+way to Boston with his office-boy, and looked round the darkening park.
+“What do you want lights for?”
+
+“Why, these children play till all hours. It’s mean to keep them here
+till dark, then turn them on the streets. A few lights would make the
+place as light as day.”
+
+The Mayor stared about him in silence.
+
+“I’ve just been thinking about the electric light people,” continued
+Berty. “They’re a big, rich company, aren’t they?”
+
+“So, so.”
+
+“Well, would it be wrong for me to go to them and ask to have a few
+lights put in?”
+
+“Wrong, no--”
+
+“But would they do it?”
+
+“Well, I guess if you went to them with your mind made up that they
+ought to, they would do it quick enough.”
+
+“I’ll go,” said Berty, with satisfaction. “Thank you so much. I’ll say
+you advised me.”
+
+The Mayor sighed, but said nothing.
+
+“Come, children,” called Berty, in her clear voice, “it’s time to go
+home. Gates open at eight-thirty to-morrow morning.”
+
+She huddled them out into the street like a flock of unwilling sheep,
+then walked home beside her suddenly silent companion.
+
+“Selina Everest sat beside Grandma to-day,” said Berty, recurring to
+what she knew was now his favourite topic of conversation.
+
+“I saw her there,” said her companion, eagerly. “Do you suppose your
+grandmother--”
+
+“Yes, she did,” and Berty finished his sentence for him. “Trust Grandma
+to slip a good word in Miss Everest’s ear about you. I saw her blush,
+so perhaps she is beginning to care.”
+
+“Perhaps your grandmother had better take her the silk,” said the
+Mayor, generously.
+
+“No, I think I’ll attend to that myself,” said Berty, “but come in
+and see Grandma,” and she paused; “we’ll have a nice talk about the
+Everests.”
+
+“By the way,” she said, ushering him out to the veranda, and lingering
+for a minute before she went to find her grandmother, “I want to thank
+you again for getting me that salary for looking after the playground.
+I’m just delighted--but I think I’ll have to get a helper, for Grandma
+doesn’t want me to stay there all the time.”
+
+“That’s square--just what I recommended,” said Mr. Jimson. “Get any one
+you like, and give him or her ten or twelve dollars a month to assist
+you.”
+
+“But suppose he or she does half my work?”
+
+“That don’t count. Skilled labour, you know, takes the cake.”
+
+“But if any one does half my work, they must have half my pay.”
+
+“Nonsense,” said the Mayor, abruptly.
+
+“I sha’n’t grind the face of any poor person,” said Berty, doggedly.
+
+“All right--have it your own way, but if you won’t mind me, consult
+your grandmother before you pledge yourself.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+UP THE RIVER
+
+
+Berty and her grandmother were having a quiet little picnic together.
+They had gone away up the river to Cloverdale, and, landing among the
+green meadows, had followed a path leading to a small hill crowned by a
+grove of elm-trees.
+
+Here Berty had established her grandmother on a rug with cushions,
+magazines, and a new book, and the ever-present knitting.
+
+Thinking that the little old lady wished to have a nap, Berty left her,
+and, accompanied by a mongrel dog who had come from River Street with
+them, roamed somewhat disconsolately along the river bank.
+
+This proceeding on her part just suited the occupant of a second boat,
+who, unknown to Berty, had watched her pink and white one all the way
+from the city.
+
+With strong, steady strokes he pulled near the bank where the girl
+stood knee-deep in the high meadow-grass, then, with a hypocritical
+start, pretended to recognize her for the first time, just as he was
+rowing by.
+
+“How de do, Berty--what are you doing here?”
+
+“Grandma and I are having a picnic,” she said, in a lugubrious voice.
+
+“A picnic,” he repeated, incredulously, “you mean a funeral.”
+
+“I mean what I say,” she replied, crossly.
+
+“Might a fellow land?” he asked, his eyes dancing mischievously.
+
+“A fellow can land, or move on, or swim, or fly, for aught I care,” she
+responded, ungraciously.
+
+He jumped up, sprang out of his boat, and fastened it to the same stake
+where Berty’s was moored.
+
+“You’ve been looking cross-eyed at the sun,” he said, taking off his
+hat and fanning himself.
+
+“Take care that you don’t do the same thing,” said Berty.
+
+He looked at her sharply. She was cross, pure and simple, and with a
+satisfied smile he went on, “Might a fellow sit down on this grass? It
+looks uncommonly comfortable.”
+
+“Oh, yes,” said Berty, seating herself near him. “One might as well sit
+as stand.”
+
+[Illustration: “‘YOU’RE DYING TO TEASE ME’”]
+
+“This is pleasant,” said Tom, happily, leaning on one elbow with his
+hat over his eyes, and gazing dreamily at the river.
+
+“It is the prettiest river in the world,” remarked Berty, decidedly.
+
+“Come now--how many rivers have you seen?” inquired Tom.
+
+“Lots of them.”
+
+“And you have never been out of your native State.”
+
+“I have been to Boston, and New York, and New Orleans. How strange that
+you should forget it,” replied Berty, wrathfully.
+
+“What’s made you mad, Berty?” inquired Tom, with a brotherly air.
+
+“You know,” she said, sulkily, “you’re dying to tease me.”
+
+“Poor little girl,” murmured Tom, under his breath. Then he said,
+aloud, “Peter Jimson is in our house morning, noon, and night now.”
+
+“Don’t I know it!” exclaimed Berty, indignantly, “and you are
+encouraging him, and you can’t bear him.”
+
+“Come now, Berty,” said Tom, protestingly. “‘Can’t bear’ is a strong
+expression. I never thought much about him till he began sending
+business my way. I tell you that makes a lot of difference. It isn’t
+in human nature to look critically at a man who gives you a helping
+hand in the struggle for existence. Unless he’s a monster, which Jimson
+isn’t.”
+
+“And he has helped you?” asked Berty, curiously.
+
+“Lots--he has a big influence in the city. Don’t you know about it?”
+
+“About his influence?”
+
+“No--about his favouring me.”
+
+“He tells me nothing now,” and her tone was bitter.
+
+“You’ve been a good friend to him, Berty. He is never tired of singing
+your praises.”
+
+“To whom does he sing? To Selina?”
+
+“I don’t know. I’m not with them much.”
+
+“Then he sings them to you?”
+
+“Yes, just as soon as I pitch him the tune.”
+
+“I should think you’d know enough of me,” said Berty, peevishly. “I’m
+sure you’re one of the earliest objects I remember seeing in life.”
+
+“Come now, Berty,” he replied, good-naturedly, “you needn’t be flinging
+my age up to me. I’m only six years older than you, anyway.”
+
+“Well, that is an age.”
+
+“How did you and Jimson fall out?” asked Tom, curiously. “I’d give
+considerable to know.”
+
+“You’ll never know, now that I see you want to,” replied Berty,
+vigorously.
+
+Tom meditatively chewed a piece of meadow-grass, then said, easily, “I
+spoke in the language of exaggeration. We all do it. Of course, I guess
+that you had a quarrel. Jimson was dancing about you morning, noon, and
+night, till he took a fancy to Selina. Then you were jealous.”
+
+“It wasn’t that at all,” said Berty, unguardedly. “I wouldn’t be so
+silly. He broke his word about a package of silk.”
+
+“Oh,” replied Tom, coolly, “that was the silk Selina was so delighted
+to get. He sent a boy to Boston for it.”
+
+“Yes, and the arrangement, the very last arrangement, was for me to
+present it when it came. Several days went by; and I thought it queer I
+didn’t hear from him. Then I met him in the street. ‘Couldn’t the boy
+match the silk?’ I asked.
+
+“‘Oh, yes,’ he said, ‘he brought it fast enough.’
+
+“‘And where is it?’ I asked.
+
+“‘Miss Everest has it.’
+
+“‘Miss Everest?’ I said. ‘How did she get it?’
+
+“‘Well,’ he said, ‘when it came, I just couldn’t resist. I caught
+it from the boy. I took a carriage to her house--she was just at
+breakfast, but she came out, and I gave it to her.’
+
+“‘And what did she say?’ I asked. Now this is where I blame him, Tom.
+Just think, after all my kindness to him, and coaching him as to the
+ways of women, he just said, coolly, ‘I can’t tell you.’
+
+“‘Can’t tell me?’ I repeated. ‘You’ve got to. I’m more interested in
+this affair than you are.’
+
+“‘I--I can’t,’ he stammered. ‘I’ve seen Miss Everest several times
+since, and she says you’re only a child--not to tell everything to you.’
+
+“‘Only a child!’ I said. ‘Very well!’ and I stalked away. He sent me
+a bouquet of carnations and maidenhair that evening, but of course
+flowers had no effect on me.”
+
+“Selina is jealous of you,” said Tom, promptly.
+
+“I’m not jealous of her,” returned Berty, sweetly. “I wish her every
+happiness, but I do think the Mayor might have been more open.”
+
+“If he’s got to dance after Selina, his work’s cut out,” said Tom.
+
+“Do you think she will marry him?” asked Berty, eagerly.
+
+“Marry him--of course she will. I never saw her so pleased over
+anything as she was over that silk affair. Jimson is a good-hearted
+fellow, Berty.”
+
+“Good-hearted, yes, but he doesn’t keep his promises. He hasn’t got
+those pigeon-boxes up yet.”
+
+“What pigeon-boxes?”
+
+“He promised to have some nailed on the shed for me. The boxes are all
+made, but not put up.”
+
+“I’ll do it,” said Tom, generously. “I’ll come to-morrow.”
+
+“To-morrow will be Sunday.”
+
+“Monday, then. Monday afternoon as soon as the office closes.”
+
+“Very well,” said Berty, with a sigh, “but you’ll probably forget. My
+friends don’t seem to be standing by me lately.”
+
+“Your friends--why, you are the heroine of the city--confound it, what
+is that dog doing?”
+
+Berty’s mongrel friend, taking advantage of Tom’s absorbing interest in
+his companion, had lain down on the grass behind him and had chewed a
+piece out of his coat.
+
+“Look at it--the rascal,” exclaimed Tom, twisting round his blue serge
+garment--“a clean bite. What kind of a dog is this? Get out, you brute.”
+
+“Don’t scold him,” said Berty, holding out a hand to the culprit. “He
+doesn’t know any better. He is young and cutting teeth.”
+
+“Well, I wish he’d cut them on some other man--look at that coat. It’s
+ruined.”
+
+“Can’t you get it mended?”
+
+“Who would do it for me?”
+
+“Send it to your tailor.”
+
+“It’s too shabby--I just keep it for boating.”
+
+“Ask your mother or Selina.”
+
+“They’re too busy with fancy work. Selina is working peonies all over
+the place. She’s got to use up that pound of silk.”
+
+“I don’t know what you’ll do, then,” observed Berty, in an uninterested
+way, “unless,” with sudden vivacity, “you give me the coat for a poor
+person.”
+
+“Not I--I can’t afford that. I’ll tell you, Berty, I ought to get a
+wife.”
+
+“Why, so you should,” said the young girl, kindly. “It’s time you were
+getting settled. Have you any one in mind?”
+
+“I know the kind of a girl I want,” said Tom, evasively. “I do wish
+you’d help me pick her out.”
+
+Berty shook her head with sudden wariness. “I forgot, I’m not going to
+meddle with match-making any more. You’re sure to get a snub from the
+person you’re trying hardest to benefit.”
+
+“I promise you that the girl I choose will never snub you,” said Tom,
+solemnly.
+
+“There was Selina,” replied Berty, bitterly, “I just loved her, and
+thought her beautiful and stately like a picture, and far above Mr.
+Jimson, and now she says I’m a child--a child!”
+
+“It’s too bad,” said Tom, sympathetically, “but Selina was always a
+little bit wrapped up in herself.”
+
+“I had even got as far as the engagement-ring,” continued Berty. “I
+thought a red stone--a garnet or a ruby--would be less common than the
+diamond that everybody has.”
+
+“Would you prefer a red stone for yourself?” asked Tom, artlessly.
+
+“Yes, I should think I would.”
+
+“Well, you see Selina wants to choose for herself. You women like to
+manage your own affairs.”
+
+“But Mr. Jimson is just as bad. He’s as stubborn as a mule when I want
+to advise him.”
+
+“I guess we all like to run our own concerns,” said Tom,
+good-humouredly, “but to come back to my girl, Berty, I do wish you
+would help me. You understand women so much better than I do.”
+
+“Didn’t I just tell you that I wouldn’t meddle with matrimonial affairs
+again--not for any one. Not even if dear Grandma were to ask me.”
+
+“Well, now, we all have a great respect for Grandma,” said Tom, warmly,
+“but I scarcely think she is likely to think of giving you another
+grandfather.”
+
+“Oh, you wretch!” said Berty, irritably. “I don’t mean for herself. I
+mean for Bonny, or you, or some of her young friends.”
+
+“Well, as your decision is irrevocable, I suppose I mustn’t tease,”
+observed Tom, slowly getting up and looking out over the river, “but I
+would really like you to help me. Perhaps Margaretta will. Good-bye,
+Berty.”
+
+“Grandma and I are going to have a cup of tea presently,” said Berty,
+staring out over the meadows without looking at him. “We’ve brought a
+kettle and some eatables. If you would like to stay, I know Grandma
+would be glad to have you.”
+
+“Thank you, but I don’t think I’d better accept Grandma’s kind
+invitation. My mind is full of this important business of choosing
+a wife, and I want to find some one who will give me good advice.
+Margaretta will just about be going to dinner by the time I get back to
+the city. I’ll change my duds, and get over just about the minute that
+the third course goes in.”
+
+“What kind of a girl do you want?” said Berty, staring up at him.
+
+“A tall girl, much taller than you, or even Margaretta. Tall and
+flaxen-haired like a doll.”
+
+“And blue eyes, I suppose,” said Berty, sarcastically.
+
+“Oh, yes, blue as the sky, and tapering fingers--white fingers, not
+brown from boating and out-of-door life.”
+
+“You want a hothouse plant,” said Berty, disdainfully.
+
+“You’ve put my very idea in words,” said Tom, in an ecstasy, as he
+again sat down on the grass near her. “I’d admire to wait on one of
+those half-sick creatures. It seems to me if I could wrap her in a
+white shawl in the morning, and come back at night and find her in
+the same place, I’d be perfectly happy. Now these healthy, athletic
+creatures with strong opinions scurry all over the place. You never
+know where to find them.”
+
+“Suppose you advertise.”
+
+“I dare say I’ll have to. I don’t know any one of just the type I
+want here in Riverport, but I thought perhaps you might know one. It
+doesn’t matter if she lives outside. I wouldn’t mind going a little
+way.”
+
+“There’s Matty DeLong,” replied Berty. “She has neuralgia terribly, but
+then her hair isn’t light.”
+
+“I don’t want a neuralgic victim. It’s just a kind of general debility
+girl I want.”
+
+“What about the doctor’s bills?”
+
+“I’ll pay them,” said Tom, enthusiastically. “Give me domestic peace
+even at the expense of bills.”
+
+“I expect I’d be a terrible termagant if I married,” observed Berty,
+thoughtfully.
+
+Her companion made no reply to this assertion.
+
+“If I asked a man for money, and he wouldn’t give it to me, I think I’d
+want to pound him to a jelly,” continued Berty, warmly.
+
+“I expect he’d let you,” observed Tom, meekly, “but you’re not thinking
+of marriage for yourself, are you, Berty?”
+
+“No,” she said, snappishly, “only when the subject is so much
+discussed, I can’t help having ideas put into my head.”
+
+“I suppose you’d like a Boston man, wouldn’t you?” inquired Tom,
+demurely.
+
+“I don’t know. Anybody that was a stranger and celebrated would do.”
+
+“You’re like me in one respect. You want a brand-new article, not
+something you’ve been used to seeing since infancy.”
+
+“I should like a President,” said Berty, wistfully, “but when men come
+to the presidential chair they’re all too old for me.”
+
+“But it must be ennobling for you to have such an ambitious spirit,”
+observed Tom.
+
+“It does make me feel nice--Hark! isn’t that Grandma calling?”
+
+“Yes,” replied Tom. “Let us go see what she wants.”
+
+“Berty, Berty,” the distant voice was saying, “isn’t it time to put the
+kettle on? We must get home before dark.”
+
+“Yes, Grandma, dear,” called Berty. “Tom Everest is here. He will help
+me find some sticks. You please sit still and rest--come, Tom, and
+speak to her first,” and smiling and playing with the dancing mongrel
+pup, Berty ran up the slope.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+BERTY’S TRAMP
+
+
+Berty was away out on the lonely road leading from the iron works to
+the city.
+
+Grandma had not been well all day, and Berty had gone to ask Bonny to
+spend the night in the River Street house. Since the boy’s admission
+into Roger’s office he had virtually lived in Roger’s house.
+
+Not that he loved Margaretta and Roger more than he loved his
+grandmother and Berty, but the Grand Avenue style of living was more in
+accord with his aristocratic tastes than the plain ways of the house in
+River Street. So the boy really had two homes.
+
+Berty, who had been in the house with her grandmother all through the
+morning, had enjoyed the long walk out to the iron works, and was now
+enjoying the long walk home.
+
+It was a perfect afternoon. “How I love the late summer,” murmured the
+girl, and she gazed admiringly about her at the ripening grain fields,
+the heavily foliaged trees, the tufts of goldenrod flowering beside the
+dusty road.
+
+Away off there in the distance was a moving cloud of dust coming
+from the city. Nearer at hand, it resolved itself into a man who was
+shuffling along in a lazy way, and kicking up very much more dust than
+there was any necessity of doing.
+
+Berty stared at him. She knew most of the citizens of Riverport by
+sight, and whether she knew them by sight or not, she could tell by
+their general appearance whether they belonged to the place.
+
+This man was a stranger--a seedy, poor-looking man with a brown face,
+and he was observing her as intently as she was observing him.
+
+Arrived opposite her, he stopped. “Lady,” he said, in a whining voice,
+“please give a poor sick man some money to buy medicine.”
+
+“What’s the matter with you?” she asked, promptly.
+
+“An awful internal trouble, lady,” he said, laying his hand on his
+side. “Intermittent pains come on every evening at this time.”
+
+“You don’t look ill,” replied Berty, suspiciously. “Your face is as
+bronzed as a sailor’s.”
+
+“The doctors prescribed outdoor air, lady,” he went on, whiningly.
+
+“I haven’t any money for you.”
+
+The man, from his station in the road, looked back toward the city,
+then forward in the direction of the iron works. There was not a soul
+in sight, and as quick as a flash an angry sentence sprang to the
+girl’s lips, “Let me by.”
+
+“But, lady, I want some money,” he said, persistently, and he stood in
+her way.
+
+She surveyed him contemptuously. “You want to make me give you some,
+but I tell you you couldn’t do it.”
+
+“Couldn’t I, lady?” he replied, half-sneeringly, half-admiringly.
+
+“No,” said Berty, promptly, “because, in the first place, I’d be so
+mad that you couldn’t get it from me. You’re only a little man, and
+I guess a gymnasium-trained girl like myself could knock you about
+considerably. Then look here,” and, stepping back, she suddenly flashed
+something long and sharp and steely from her head. “Do you see that
+hat-pin? It would sting you like a wasp,” and she stabbed the air with
+it.
+
+The man snickered. “You’ve plenty of sand, but I guess I could get your
+purse if I tried.”
+
+“Oh, how angry you make me,” returned the girl, with a fiery glance.
+“Now I can understand how one can let oneself be killed for an idea.
+You might possibly overcome me, you might get my purse, but you
+couldn’t kill the mad in me if you chopped me in a thousand little
+pieces.”
+
+“Lady,” said the man, teasingly, “I guess you’d give in before then,
+though I’ve no doubt but what your temper would carry you considerable
+far.”
+
+“And suppose you got my purse,” said Berty, haughtily, “what good would
+it do you? Wouldn’t I scream? I’ve got a voice like a steam-whistle;
+and the iron works close in five minutes, and this road will be alive
+with good honest workmen. They’d hunt you down like a rabbit.”
+
+For the first time a shade of uneasiness passed over his face. But he
+speedily became cool. “Good evening, lady, excuse me for frightening
+you,” and, pulling at his battered hat, he started to pass on.
+
+“Stop!” said Berty, commandingly, “who are you, and why did you come to
+Riverport?”
+
+He lazily propped himself against a tree by the roadside. “It was in my
+line of march.”
+
+“Are you a tramp?”
+
+“Well, yes, I suppose I am.”
+
+“Where were you born?”
+
+“In New Hampshire.”
+
+“You weren’t born a tramp?”
+
+“Great Harry!” muttered the man, taking off his hat and pushing back
+from his forehead the dark hair sprinkled with gray, “it seems a
+hundred years since I was born. My father was a well-to-do farmer,
+young lady, if you want to know, and he gave me a good education.”
+
+“A good education,” repeated Berty, “and now you have sunk so low as to
+stop women and beg for money.”
+
+“Just that low,” he said, indifferently, “and from a greater height
+than you think.”
+
+“What was the height?” asked Berty, eagerly.
+
+“I was once a physician in Boston,” he returned, with a miserable
+remnant of pride.
+
+“You a physician!” exclaimed Berty, “and now a tramp!”
+
+“A tramp pure and simple.”
+
+“What made you give up your profession?”
+
+“Well, I was born lazy, and then I drank, and I drink, and I always
+shall drink.”
+
+“A drunkard!” murmured Berty, pityingly. “Poor fellow!”
+
+The man looked at her curiously.
+
+“How old are you?” she asked, suddenly.
+
+“Forty-five.”
+
+“Have you tried to reform?”
+
+“Formerly--not now.”
+
+“Oh, how queer people are,” said the girl, musingly. “How little I can
+understand you. How little you can understand me. Now if I could only
+get inside your mind, and know what you are thinking about.”
+
+“I’m thinking about my supper, lady,” he said, flippantly; then, as she
+looked carefully at him, he went on, carelessly, “Once I was young like
+you. Now I don’t go in for sentiment. I feed and sleep. That’s all I
+care about.”
+
+“And do you do no work?”
+
+“Not a stroke.”
+
+“And you have no money?”
+
+“Not a cent.”
+
+“But how do you live?”
+
+“Off good people like you,” he said, wheedlingly. “You’re going to give
+me a hot supper, I guess.”
+
+“Follow me,” said Berty, suddenly setting off toward the city, and the
+man sauntered after her.
+
+When they reached River Street, she opened the gate leading into the
+yard and beckoned to him.
+
+“I can’t take you in the house,” she said, in a low voice, as he
+followed her. “My grandmother is ill, and then our house is very clean.”
+
+“And I am very unclean,” he said, jocularly surveying himself, “though
+I’m by no means as bad as an ash-heap tramp.”
+
+“But I’ll put you into the shed,” continued Berty. “There are only a
+few guinea-pigs there. They are quiet little things, and won’t hurt
+you.”
+
+“I hope you won’t give me husks for supper,” murmured the tramp.
+
+Berty eyed him severely. His condition to her was too serious for
+jesting, and she by no means approved of his attempts at humour.
+
+“I’ll bring you out something to eat,” she said, “and if you want to
+stay all night, I’ll drag you out a mattress.”
+
+“I accept your offer with thankfulness, lady,” he replied.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+TOM’S INTERVENTION
+
+
+About eight o’clock that evening Tom Everest ran in to bring Berty some
+rare wild flowers that he had found in an excursion to the country.
+
+“How is your grandmother?” he asked. “I hear she is ill.”
+
+“Better,” whispered Berty. “Bonny is with her, but I’ve got another
+trouble.”
+
+“What is it?” inquired Tom, tenderly.
+
+They were standing in the front hall, and he bent his head low to hear
+what she said.
+
+“There’s a tramp out in the wood-shed,” she went on, “and I don’t know
+what to do with him.”
+
+“I’ll go put him out,” said Tom, promptly starting toward the back hall.
+
+“No, no, I don’t want him put out. Come back, Tom. I want you to help
+me do something for him. Just think, he was once a doctor. He cured
+other people, and couldn’t cure himself. He drinks like a fish.”
+
+“Well, I’ll find a place for him to disport himself other than this,”
+said Tom, decidedly. “He isn’t going to spend the night in your back
+yard.”
+
+“Oh, Tom, don’t be foolish. He is as quiet as a lamb. He hasn’t been
+drinking to-day.”
+
+“I tell you, Berty, he’s got to come out. If you make a fuss, I’ll call
+Bonny down.”
+
+“Why, Tom Everest, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Your face is as
+red as a beet. What about the Golden Rule?”
+
+“I beg your pardon, Berty,” said Tom, trying to look calm, “but I know
+more about tramps than you do. This fellow may be a thief.”
+
+“Tom--suppose you were the thief, and the thief were you? Would you
+like him to talk about you that way?”
+
+“Yes, I’d enjoy it. Come, Berty, lead the way.”
+
+“What do you want to do with him?” asked the girl, curiously.
+
+“Put him in the street.”
+
+“Well, suppose he is a thief. He may rob your neighbour’s house.”
+
+“My neighbour can look out for himself.”
+
+“You don’t mean that,” said Berty, quickly. “Please do find this man a
+good place for the night. Keep him out of harm.”
+
+“But, Berty, it won’t do any good. I know those fellows. They are
+thoroughly demoralized. You might just as well let this one go.”
+
+“Go where?” asked the girl, quickly.
+
+“To his appointed place.”
+
+The two young people stood staring at each other for a few minutes,
+then Berty said, seriously, “Tom Everest, you are a moral, upright man.”
+
+Tom modestly cast his eyes to the oilcloth on the floor.
+
+“How many other young men are there like you in the republic?” pursued
+Berty.
+
+“I don’t know,” he said, demurely.
+
+“How many tramps are there?”
+
+“I don’t know that--thousands and thousands, I guess.”
+
+“Well, suppose every honest young man took a poor, miserable tramp
+under his protection. Suppose he looked out for him, fed him, clothed
+him, and kept him from being a prey on society?”
+
+“I should say that would be a most undesirable plan for the young men,”
+said Tom, dryly. “I’d be afraid they’d get demoralized themselves, and
+all turn tramps. It’s easier to loaf than to work.”
+
+“Tom,” said Berty, firmly, “this is my tramp. I found him, I brought
+him home, I have a duty toward him. I can’t protect all the tramps in
+the Union, but I can prevent this one from going on and being a worry
+to society. Why, he might meet some timid girl to-morrow and frighten
+her to death.”
+
+“Oho! he tried to scare you, did he?” asked Tom, keenly.
+
+“He asked me for money,” repeated Berty, “but of course I didn’t let
+him have it.”
+
+“Tell me all about it.”
+
+When she finished, Tom laughed softly. “So this is the gentleman you
+want me to befriend?”
+
+“Do you feel revengeful toward him?” asked Berty.
+
+“I’d like to horsewhip him.”
+
+“That’s the way I felt at first. Then I said to myself, ‘Berty Gravely,
+you’ve got to get every revengeful feeling out of your head before you
+can benefit that man. What’s the use of being angry with him? You only
+stultify yourself. Try to find out how you can do him good.’”
+
+“Oh, Berty,” interposed Tom, with a gesture of despair, “don’t talk
+mawkish, sickly sentimentality to me. Don’t throw honey water over tin
+cans, and expect them to blossom like the rose.”
+
+“They will blossom, they can blossom,” said Berty, persistently, “and
+even if they won’t blossom, take your old tin cans, clean them, and set
+them on end. Don’t kick them in the gutter.”
+
+“What do you want me to do?” asked Tom, helplessly. “I see you have
+some plan in your mind.”
+
+This was Berty’s chance, and for a few minutes she so staggered him by
+her eloquence that he sank on the staircase, and, feebly propping his
+head on his hand, stared uninterruptedly at her.
+
+“I’ve been thinking hard,” she said, in low, dramatic tones, “very,
+very hard for two hours, as I sat by Grandma’s bed. What can we do
+for wrecks of humanity? Shall we pet them, coddle them, spoil them,
+as you speak of doing? Not at all. We’ve got to do something, but we
+mustn’t be foolish. This tramp is like some wet, soggy piece of wood
+floating down our river. It doesn’t know, feel, nor care. You mustn’t
+give it a push and send it further down the stream, but pull it ashore,
+and--and--”
+
+“And dry it, and make a fire and burn it,” said Tom, briskly. “I don’t
+like your simile, Berty.”
+
+“It was unfortunate,” said the girl. “I will start again. I approve of
+societies and churches and clubs--I think they do splendid work, and
+if, in addition to what they do, every one of us would just reach out a
+helping hand to one solitary person in the world, how different things
+would be. We would have a paradise here below. It’s wicked, Tom, to
+say, ‘That is a worthless person, let him go--you can do nothing for
+him.’ Now I’ve got a plan for this tramp, and I want you to help me.”
+
+“I know you have, and I wouldn’t mind hearing it, but I don’t think
+I’ll help you, Berty. I don’t favour the gentry of the road.”
+
+“This is my plan,” said Berty, unheedingly; “but first let me say that
+I will make a concession to you. You may take the tramp with you, put
+him in a comfortable room for the night, see that he has a good bed,
+and a good breakfast in the morning.”
+
+“Oh, thank you, thank you,” murmured the young man. “You are so very
+kind.”
+
+“Don’t give him any money,” continued Berty, seriously, “and if you can
+keep him locked up without hurting his feelings, I wish you would--but
+don’t blight his self-respect.”
+
+“His what?” asked Tom, mildly.
+
+“His self-respect--even an animal must be protected in that way. Don’t
+you know that a dog gets well a great deal quicker, if you keep up his
+good opinion of himself?”
+
+“Does he?” murmured Tom. “I--I don’t know. I fear I have sometimes
+helped to lessen a dog’s good opinion of himself.”
+
+“And, furthermore,” pursued Berty, “I want that tramp to stay in
+Riverport. He’s going to be my tramp, Tom, and yours, too, if you will
+be good.”
+
+“Oh, I will be good, Berty, extra good to deserve a partnership like
+that.”
+
+“And you and I will look out for him. Now I’ve been wondering what
+employment we can find for him, for of course you know it isn’t good
+for any man to live in idleness.”
+
+“Just so, Berty.”
+
+“Well, we must be very cautious about what work we find for him, for he
+hasn’t worked for years.”
+
+“Something light and genteel, Berty.”
+
+“Light, but not so very genteel. He isn’t proud. He’s only unaccustomed
+to work. He talked quite frankly about himself.”
+
+“Oh--did he?”
+
+“Yes, and do you know what I have decided?”
+
+“No, I’m sure I don’t.”
+
+“Well, I have just found the very thing for him, and I dare say, if you
+have any money laid aside, you may want to invest in it. First of all,
+I want you to hire Bobbetty’s Island.”
+
+“Bobbetty’s Island--out in the river--old man Bobbetty’s?”
+
+“The same, Tom.”
+
+“Ghost thrown in?”
+
+“I want you to hire it,” said Berty, severely, “and get some of your
+friends to make up a party, and go down there and put up a big,
+comfortable camp for our tramp to live in.”
+
+“Why the island, Berty?” inquired Tom, in a suppressed voice. “Why not
+set him up in Grand Avenue. There’s a first-class family mansion to let
+there, three doors from us.”
+
+“Tom Everest, will you stop your fooling. Our tramp is to live on the
+island because if he were in the town he would spend half his time in
+drinking-places.”
+
+“But won’t the river be suggestive, Berty? It would to me, and I’m not
+a drinking man.”
+
+“No, of course not--he will have his work to do, and twice a week I
+want you to row over yourself, or get some one to go and bring him to
+town, for he would go crazy if he were left there alone all the time.”
+
+“I wonder you don’t get a companion for him.”
+
+“I’m going to try. He has a wife, a nice woman in New Hampshire, who
+left him on account of his drinking habits. He says she will come back
+to him if he gets a good situation and promises to reform.”
+
+“Has he promised?” asked Tom, acutely.
+
+“He said he would think about it. I rather liked him for the
+hesitation, for of course he is completely out of the way of continuous
+application to anything.”
+
+“And what business, may I ask, are you going to establish him in? You
+seemed to be hinting at something.”
+
+“I am going to start a cat farm, and put him in charge,” replied Berty,
+with the air of one making a great revelation.
+
+“A cat farm,” echoed Tom, weakly, then, entirely collapsing, he rolled
+over on his side on the staircase and burst into silent and convulsive
+laughter.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+TRAMP PHILOSOPHY
+
+
+“What are you two giggling about?” asked a sudden voice, and Berty,
+looking up from the hall, and Tom, from the staircase, saw Bonny
+standing on the steps above them.
+
+“Meow, meow,” murmured Tom, in a scarcely audible voice.
+
+“What’s up with him, Berty?” asked Bonny, good-naturedly.
+
+“I think his head must be growing weak,” said the girl. “Everything
+lately seems to amuse him. If you hold up a finger, he goes into fits
+of laughter.”
+
+“Poor Tom,” said Bonny, “and once he was a joy to his friends--I say,
+old man, uncurl yourself and tell us the joke.”
+
+“Go ’way, Berty,” ejaculated Tom, partly straightening himself, “go
+’way. You hate to see me laugh. Just like all girls. They haven’t any
+more sense of humour than sticks.”
+
+“Bonny,” said Berty, turning to her brother, “how is Grandma?”
+
+“Asleep, and resting quietly.”
+
+“I’ll go sit beside her,” said the girl; then, turning to her visitor,
+“Tom Everest, are you going to do that commission for me, or are you
+not? I’ve stood a good deal from you to-night. Just one word more, and
+I take it from you and give it to Bonny.”
+
+“I’m ready and willing if it’s anything good,” said the light-haired
+boy.
+
+“Sha’n’t have it, Bonny,” said Tom, staggering to his feet. “That jewel
+is mine. I’ll love and cherish him, Berty, until to-morrow afternoon,
+then I’ll report to you.”
+
+“Good night, then,” said Berty, “and don’t make a noise, or you’ll wake
+Grandma.”
+
+“Come on, Bonny, let’s interview Berty’s treasure,” exclaimed Tom,
+seizing his hat.
+
+“What is it?” inquired Bonny, curiously, following him through the hall.
+
+“A black pearl. Didn’t she tell you?”
+
+“No, I haven’t been here long. We were busy at the works.”
+
+Without speaking, Tom led the way down the back staircase, through the
+lower hall, and out to the wood-shed at the back of the house.
+
+“Listen to it,” he said to Bonny, with his hand on the door-knob.
+
+“Who is snoring in there?” said the boy, quickly.
+
+“One of your sister’s bits of driftwood. I’ve got to haul this one into
+port.”
+
+“I wish Berty would look out for number one, and let number two, and
+three, and four, and five, take care of themselves,” said the lad,
+irritably. Then he suddenly recollected himself. “I suppose I am a
+brute, but I do hate dirty people. Berty is an angel compared with me.”
+
+“Hello,” said Tom, opening the door and scratching a match to light the
+candle in a lantern hanging near him.
+
+There was no response. Tom held the lantern and pushed the sleeping man
+with his foot.
+
+“Here, you--wake up.”
+
+The man rolled over, blinking at them in the light. “Hello, comrade,
+what you want?”
+
+“Get up,” said Tom, commandingly.
+
+“What for?” asked the sleeper, yawningly.
+
+“To get out of this. I’ll find you another sleeping-place.”
+
+“Oh, come, comrade,” said the man, remonstratingly, “this is cruelty to
+animals. I was having the sleep of my life--like drugged sleep--takes
+me back to my boyhood. Move on, and let me begin again. Your diamonds
+are safe to-night. I’ve had a first-class supper, and I’m having a
+first-class sleep. I wouldn’t get up to finger the jewels of the
+Emperor of Russia.”
+
+“Get up,” said Tom, inexorably.
+
+“Let him stay,” said Bonny. “I’m going to be here all night. If he gets
+dangerous, I’ll take the poker.”
+
+“Oh, you’re going to stay all night,” remarked Tom. “Very good, then.
+I’ll come early in the morning and get him out of this.”
+
+“Talking about me, gentlemen?” asked the man, sleepily.
+
+Tom and Bonny stared at him.
+
+“I haven’t done anything bad yet,” said the tramp, meekly, “unless I
+may have corrupted a few of those guinea-pigs by using bad language.
+They’re the most inquisitive creatures I ever saw. Stuck their noses in
+my food, and most took it away from me.”
+
+“Who are you?” asked Bonny, abruptly.
+
+“A poor, broken-down sailor, sir,” whined the man. “Turned out of his
+vessel the first day in port, because he had a little weakness of the
+heart.”
+
+“I heard you were a doctor,” interposed Tom.
+
+“So I was this afternoon, sir. That nice young lady said I looked like
+a sailor, so I thought I’d be one to please her.”
+
+“You’re a first-class liar, anyway,” said Tom.
+
+The man rolled over on his back and sleepily blinked at him. “That
+I am, sir. If you’d hear the different stories I tell to charitable
+ladies, you’d fall down in a fit. They’re too funny for words.”
+
+Bonny was staring at him with wide-open eyes. He had never spoken to
+a tramp before in his life. If he saw one on the right side of the
+street, he immediately crossed to the left.
+
+“I say,” he began, with a fastidious curl of his lip, “it must be
+mighty queer not to know in the morning where you are going to lay your
+head at night. Queer, and mighty uncomfortable.”
+
+“So it is, young man, till you get used to it,” responded the tramp,
+amiably.
+
+Bonny’s countenance expressed the utmost disdain, and suddenly the
+tramp raised himself on an elbow. “Can you think of me, my fine lad,
+young and clean and as good-looking as you are?”
+
+“No, I can’t,” said Bonny, frankly.
+
+“Fussy about my tailor,” continued the man. “Good heavens, just think
+of it--I, bothering about the cut of my coat. But I was, and I did, and
+I’ve come down to be a trailer over the roads.”
+
+“How can persons take a jump like that?” said the boy, musingly.
+
+“It isn’t a jump,” pursued the tramp, lazily, “it’s a slide. You move a
+few inches each day. I’m something of a philosopher, and I often look
+back on my career. I’ve lots of time to think, as you may imagine. Now,
+gentlemen, you wouldn’t imagine where my slide into trampdom began.”
+
+“You didn’t start from the gutter, anyway,” remarked Bonny, “for you
+talk like a gentleman.”
+
+“You’re right, young man. I can talk the slang of the road. I’ve been
+broken to it, but I won’t waste it on you, for you wouldn’t understand
+it--well, my first push downward was given me by my mother.”
+
+“Your mother?” echoed Bonny, in disgust.
+
+“Yes, young sir--one of the best women that ever lived. She held me out
+to the devil, when she allowed me to kick the cat because it had made
+me fall.”
+
+“Nonsense,” said Bonny, sharply.
+
+“Not nonsense, but sound sense, sir. That was the beginning of the
+lack of self-restraint. Did I want her best cap to tear to ribbons? I
+got it.”
+
+“Oh, get out,” interposed Tom, crossly. “You needn’t tell us that all
+spoiled children go to the bad.”
+
+“Good London, no,” said the man, with a laugh. “Look at our
+millionaires. Could you find on the face of the earth a more absolute
+autocrat, a more heartless, up-to-date, determined-to-have-his-own-way,
+let-the-rest-of-you-go-to-the-dogs kind of a man, than the average
+American millionaire?”
+
+The two young men eyed each other, and Bonny murmured, “You are an
+extremist.”
+
+“It began away back,” continued the tramp, now thoroughly roused from
+his sleepy condition. “When our forefathers came from England, they
+brought that ugly, I’m-going-to-have-my-own-way spirit with them. Talk
+about the severity of England precipitating the Revolution. If they
+hadn’t made a revolution for us, we’d made one to order. Did you ever
+read about the levelling spirit of those days? I tell you this American
+nation is queer--it’s harder for a real, true blue son of the soil to
+keep straight, than it is for the son of any other nation under the
+heaven. We lack self-restraint. We’ll go to the bad if we want to, and
+none shall hinder us.”
+
+The tramp paused for a minute in his semi-lazy, semi-animated
+discourse, and Tom, feeling that some remark was expected from him,
+said feebly, “You’re quite a moralizer.”
+
+The tramp did not hear him. “I tell you,” he said, extending a dirty
+hand, “we’re the biggest, grandest, foolishest people on earth. We’re
+the nation of the future. We’ll govern the earth, and at the same time
+fail in governing ourselves. Look at the lynchings we have. The United
+States has the highest murder rate of any civilized country in the
+world. The average American will be a decent, moral, pay-his-bills sort
+of man, and yet he’ll have more tolerance for personal violence than a
+Turk has.”
+
+“You’re a queer man,” said Bonny, musingly.
+
+“We’ve got to have more law and order,” pursued the tramp. “The mothers
+have got to make their little ones eat their mush, or porridge, as they
+say over the line in Canada--not fling it out the window to the dogs.
+I tell you that’s where it begins, just where every good and bad thing
+begins--in the cradle. The average mother has too much respect for the
+squallings of her Young America. Let her spank him once in awhile, and
+keep him out of sight of the eagle.”
+
+“Do you suppose,” said Bonny, solemnly, “that if you had been well
+spanked you would not be lying here?”
+
+“Suppose,” repeated the tramp, leaning back, “I don’t suppose anything
+about it. I know it. If my mother and father had made me mind them, and
+kept me in nights, and trained me into decent, self-respecting manhood,
+I’d be standing beside you to-night, young sirs, beside you--beyond
+you--for I guess from your bearing you are only young men of average
+ability, and I tell you I was a power, when I’d study and let the drink
+alone.”
+
+“You must have had a strange mother,” remarked Bonny.
+
+The tramp suddenly raised himself again, and his sunburnt face grew
+redder. “For the love of Heaven,” he said, extending one ragged arm,
+“don’t say a word against her. The thought of her is the only thing
+that moves me. She loved me, and, unclean, characterless wretch that I
+am, she would love me yet if she were still alive.”
+
+The man’s head sank on his arm, but not quickly enough. Tom and Bonny
+had both seen glistening in his eyes, not the one jewel they were
+jestingly in search of, but two priceless jewels that were not pearls,
+but diamonds.
+
+“Come on, Bonny,” said Tom, roughly, as he drew him from the shed.
+
+“Tom,” remarked Bonny, softly, as they went slowly up-stairs, “Berty
+wants you to do something for that fellow, doesn’t she?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Do you think it is of any use?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Are you going to try?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Bonny made no further remarks until some time later, when they were
+standing on the front door-step, then he asked, thoughtfully, “What
+does Berty want you to do, Tom?”
+
+“Start a cat-farm.”
+
+“A cat-farm! What kind of cats?”
+
+“Gutter cats, back yard cats, disreputable cats, I should guess from
+the character of the superintendent she has chosen,” replied Tom,
+gruffly.
+
+“The superintendent being the tramp,” said Bonny, slyly.
+
+“There’s no one else in question,” responded Tom.
+
+“I think you are wrong about the nature of the beasts,” continued
+Bonny. “I believe Berty means pet cats--Angoras, and so on.”
+
+“What sort are they?”
+
+“Do you mean to say you haven’t noticed them? It’s the latest cry
+among the women--‘Give me a long-haired cat!’ Mrs. Darley-James has a
+beauty--snow-white with blue eyes.”
+
+“All nonsense--these society women don’t know what to do to kill time.”
+
+“They’re not all society women that have them. Old Mrs. McCarthy has a
+pair of dandies--and I find that the women who take up cat-culture are
+more kind to back yard tabbies.”
+
+“Maybe you’re right, Bonny. I don’t call round on these women as you
+do.”
+
+“Well,” said Bonny, apologetically, “I don’t see any harm in putting on
+your best coat and hat, and doing a woman who has invited you to her
+house the compliment of calling on her day.”
+
+“Oh, dressing up,” said Tom, “is such a nuisance.”
+
+“You can’t call on many that you’d be bothered with calling on without
+it. Sydney Gray tried calling on Margaretta on her day in a bicycle
+suit. He had ridden fifty miles, and was hot and dusty and perspiring.
+He had the impudence to go into Margaretta’s spick and span rooms and
+ask for a cup of tea. She was so sweet to him that he came away hugging
+himself--but he never got asked there again, and every once in awhile
+he says to some one, ‘Queer, isn’t it, that Mrs. Stanisfield gives me
+the go-by. I don’t know what I’ve done to offend her.’”
+
+“Suppose we come back to Berty,” observed Tom. “If all the women here
+have cats, what does she want to start a farm for?”
+
+“The women aren’t all supplied. The demand is increasing, and many
+would buy here that wouldn’t send away for one. Berty is more shrewd
+than you think. These cats sell for five and six dollars apiece at the
+least, and some are as high as twenty. I shouldn’t a bit wonder if it
+would turn out to be a good business speculation.”
+
+“Well, then, you just meet some of the fellows in my office to-morrow
+evening and arrange for a house and lot for this man who is to boss the
+cats,” said Tom, dryly.
+
+“All right, I’ll come--maybe Roger will, too.”
+
+“Good night,” said Tom, “I’m off.”
+
+“Good night,” returned Bonny, laconically, and, standing with his
+hands thrust in his pockets, he was looking down the street, when Tom
+suddenly turned back.
+
+“I say, Bonny, your grandmother must have a good history of the
+Revolution.”
+
+“She has two or three.”
+
+“Ask her to lend me one, will you? I half forget what I learned in
+school.”
+
+“Yes, sir; I’ll bring it to-morrow.”
+
+Tom really went this time, and as he quickly disappeared from sight,
+Bonny, from his station on the door-step, kept muttering to himself,
+“Slipping through life, slipping through life. How easy to get on that
+greased path!”
+
+“What are you saying to yourself?” asked a brisk voice.
+
+Bonny, turning sharply, found Berty beside him.
+
+“Nothing much--only that I was hungry. Let’s see what’s in the pantry.”
+
+“Bonny, if I show you where there is a pie, the most beautiful pumpkin
+pie you ever saw, will you help me with my tramp?”
+
+“I’ll do it for half a pie,” said Bonny, generously. “Come on, you
+young monkey.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+AT THE BOARD OF WATER-WORKS
+
+
+“There she comes,” murmured one of the clerks, in the board of
+water-works offices.
+
+“Who?” murmured the other clerk.
+
+“The beggar-girl,” responded the first one.
+
+The chairman of the board heard them, and looked fearfully over his
+shoulder.
+
+Roger, Tom, and Bonny knew that Berty’s frequent visits to the city
+hall had gained for her a nickname, occasioned by the character of her
+visits. She was always urging the claims of the poor, hence she was
+classed with them. They carefully shielded from her the knowledge of
+this nickname, and supposed she knew nothing of it.
+
+However, she did know. Some whisper of the “beggar-girl” had reached
+her ears, and was a matter of chagrin to her.
+
+The chairman of the board of water-works knew all about her. He knew
+that if the clerks had seen her passing along the glass corridor
+outside his office she was probably coming to him; she probably wanted
+something.
+
+One clerk was his nephew, the other his second cousin, so he was on
+terms of familiarity with them, and at the present moment was in the
+outer office discussing with them the chances that a certain bill had
+of passing the city council.
+
+The door of his own inner office stood open, but of what use to
+take refuge there? If the beggar-girl really wished to see a man on
+business, she always waited for him.
+
+He looked despairingly about him. A high, old-fashioned desk stood
+near. Under it was a foot-stool. As a knock came at the door, he
+ungracefully folded his long, lank limbs, quickly sat down on the
+foot-stool, and said, in a low voice, “I’ve gone to Portland for a
+week!” Then he fearfully awaited results.
+
+Berty, followed by her friend, the mongrel pup, walked into the room
+and asked if Mr. Morehall were in.
+
+“No,” said the second cousin, gravely, “he has been called to Portland
+on important business--will be gone a week.”
+
+The girl’s face clouded; she stood leaning against the railing that
+separated the room into two parts, and, as she did so, her weight
+pushed open the gate that the second cousin had just hastily swung
+together.
+
+The pup ran in, and being of quick wits and an inquiring disposition
+wondered what that man was doing curled up in a corner, instead of
+being on his feet like the other two.
+
+He began to sniff round him. Perhaps there was something peculiar
+about him. No--he seemed to be like other men, a trifle anxious and
+red-faced, perhaps, but still normal. He gave a playful bark, as if to
+say, “I dare you to come out.”
+
+Berty heard him, and turned swiftly. “Mugwump, if you worry another
+rat, I’ll never give you a walk again.”
+
+The two young men were in a quandary. Whether to go to the assistance
+of their chief, or whether to affect indifference, was vexing their
+clerical souls. Berty, more quick-witted than the pup, was prompt to
+notice their peculiar expressions.
+
+“Please don’t let him worry a rat,” she said, beseechingly, “it makes
+him so cruel. Rats have a dreadfully hard time! Oh, please call him
+off. He’s got it in his mouth. I hear him.”
+
+The chairman, in his perplexity, had thrown him a glove from his
+pocket, and Mugwump was mouthing and chewing it deliciously.
+
+“He’ll kill it,” exclaimed Berty. “Oh! let me in,” and before the
+confused clerks could prevent her, she had pushed open the gate and had
+followed the dog.
+
+Her face was a study. Low down on the floor sat the deceiving chairman,
+with Mugwump prancing before him.
+
+“Mr. Morehall!” she exclaimed; then she stopped.
+
+The chairman, with a flaming face, unfolded his long limbs, crawled out
+of his retreat, stumbled over the dog, partly fell, recovered himself,
+and finally got to his feet. After throwing an indignant glance at the
+two clerks, who were in a pitiable state of restrained merriment, he
+concentrated his attention on Berty. She blushed, too, as she divined
+what had been the case.
+
+“You were trying to hide from me,” she said, after a long pause.
+
+He could not deny it, though he stammered something about it being a
+warm day, and the lower part of the desk being a cool retreat.
+
+“Now you are telling me a story,” said Berty, sternly, “you, the
+chairman of the board of water-works--a city official, afraid of me!”
+
+He said nothing, and she went on, wistfully, “Am I, then, so terrible?
+Do you men all hate the beggar-girl?”
+
+Her three hearers immediately fell into a state of shamefacedness.
+
+“What have I done?” she continued, sadly, “what have I done to be so
+disliked?”
+
+No one answered her, and she went on. “When I lived on Grand Avenue
+and thought only of amusing myself, everybody liked me. Why is it that
+every one hates me since I went to River Street and am trying to make
+myself useful?”
+
+To Mr. Morehall’s dismay, her lip was quivering, and big tears began to
+roll down her cheeks.
+
+“Come in here,” he said, leading the way to his own room.
+
+Berty sat down in an armchair and quietly continued to cry, while Mr.
+Morehall eyed her with distress and increasing anxiety.
+
+“Have a glass of water, do,” said the tall man, seizing a pitcher near
+him, “and don’t feel bad. Upon my word, I didn’t know what I was doing.”
+
+“It--it isn’t you only,” gasped Berty. “It is everybody. Please excuse
+me, but I am tired and worried this morning. I’ve had some sick friends
+on our street--that’s what I came to see you about. The autumn is
+starting in so dry that we are almost choked with dust. River Street
+hasn’t been watered for a week.”
+
+“Hasn’t it?” said Mr. Morehall, slowly.
+
+“Grand Avenue was always watered,” continued Berty, as she rested her
+head against the back of the chair, “even soaked. I never thought about
+dust in summer. Why is River Street neglected?”
+
+“River Street citizens don’t pay such heavy taxes,” suggested Mr.
+Morehall.
+
+“But they pay all they can, sir.”
+
+“Poor people are shiftless,” said the official, with a shrug of his
+shoulders.
+
+“That’s what everybody says,” exclaimed Berty, despairingly. “All
+well-to-do people that I talk to dismiss the poorer classes in that
+way. But poor people aren’t all shiftless.”
+
+“Not all, perhaps,” said Mr. Morehall, amiably, and with inward
+rejoicing that Berty was wiping away her tears.
+
+“And there must be poor people,” continued Berty. “We can’t all be
+rich. It’s impossible. Who would work for the prosperous, if all were
+independent?”
+
+“What I meant,” replied Mr. Morehall, “was that poverty is very often
+the result of a lack of personal exertion on the part of the poor.”
+
+“Yes, sir, but I am not just now advocating the cause of the helpless.
+It is rather the claims of the respectable poor. I know heaps of people
+on River Street who have only a pittance to live on. Their parents had
+only the same. They are not dissipated. They work hard and pay what
+they can to the city. My argument is that these poorer children of the
+city should be especially well looked after, just as in a family the
+delicate or afflicted child is the most petted.”
+
+“Now you are aiming at the ideal,” said Mr. Morehall, with an uneasy
+smile.
+
+“No, sir, not the ideal, but the practical. Some one was telling me
+what the city has to spend for prisons, hospitals, and our asylums.
+Why, it would pay us a thousandfold better to take care of these people
+before they get to be a burden on us.”
+
+“They are so abominably ungrateful,” muttered Mr. Morehall.
+
+“And so would I be,” exclaimed Berty, “if I were always having charity
+flung in my face. Let the city give the poor their rights. They ask
+no more. It’s no disgrace to be born poor. But if I am a working
+girl in River Street I must lodge in a worm-eaten, rat-haunted
+tenement-house. I must rise from an unwholesome bed, and put on badly
+made, uncomfortable clothing. I must eat a scanty breakfast, and go to
+toil in a stuffy, unventilated room. I must come home at night to my
+dusty, unwatered street, and then I must, before I go to sleep, kneel
+down and thank God that I live in a Christian country--why, it’s enough
+to make one a pagan just to think of it! I don’t see why the poor don’t
+organize. They are meeker than I would be. It makes me wild to see
+River Street neglected. If any street is left unwatered, it ought to
+be Grand Avenue rather than River Street, for the rich have gardens
+and can go to the country, while the poor must live on the street in
+summer.”
+
+“Now you are oppressing the rich,” said Mr. Morehall, promptly.
+
+“Heaven forbid,” said the girl, wearily. “Equal rights for all--”
+
+“The poor have a good friend in you,” he said, with reluctant
+admiration.
+
+“Will you have our street watered, sir?” asked Berty, rising.
+
+“I’ll try to. I’ll have to ask for an appropriation. We’ll want another
+cart and horse, and an extra man.”
+
+“That means delay,” said Berty, despairingly, “and in the meantime the
+dust blows about in clouds. It enters the windows and settles on the
+tables and chairs. It chokes the lungs of consumptives struggling for
+breath, and little babies gasping for air. Then the mothers put the
+windows down, and they breathe over and over again the polluted air.
+And this is stifling autumn weather--come spend a day in River Street,
+sir.”
+
+“Miss Gravely,” said the man, with a certain frank bluntness and
+good-will, “excuse my plain speaking, but you enthuse too much. Those
+poor people aren’t made of the same stuff that you are. They don’t
+suffer to the extent that you do under the same conditions.”
+
+Berty was about to leave the room, but she turned round on him with
+flashing eyes. “Do you mean to say that God has created two sets of
+creatures--one set with fine nerves and sensitive bodies, the other
+callous and unsensitive to comfort or discomfort?”
+
+“That’s about the measure of it.”
+
+“And where would you draw the line?” she asked, with assumed calmness.
+
+Mr. Morehall did not know Berty well. His family, though one of
+the highest respectability, moved in another circle. If he had had
+the pleasure of an intimate acquaintance with the energetic young
+person before him, he would have known that her compressed lips, her
+half-closed eyes, and her tense forehead betokened an overwhelming and
+suppressed anger.
+
+Therefore, unaware of the drawn sword suspended over his head, he
+went on, unsuspiciously. “To tell the truth, I think there’s a lot in
+heredity. Now there are some families you never find scrabbling round
+for something to eat. I never heard of a poor Gravely, or a Travers, or
+a Stanisfield, or a Morehall. It’s in the blood to get on. No one can
+down you.”
+
+He paused consequentially, and Berty, biting her lip, waited for him to
+go on. However, happening to look at the clock, he stopped short. This
+talk was interesting, but he would like to get back to business.
+
+“Mr. Morehall,” said Berty, in a still voice, “do you know that there
+are a legion of poor Traverses up in the northern part of the State,
+that Grandma used to send boxes to every month?”
+
+“No,” he said, in surprise, “I never heard that.”
+
+“And old Mr. Stanisfield took two of his own cousins out of the
+poorhouse three years ago, and supports them?”
+
+“You astonish me,” murmured the confused man.
+
+“And, moreover,” continued Berty, with a new gleam in her eye, “since
+you have been frank with me, I may be frank with you, and say that two
+of the people for whom I want River Street made sweet and wholesome are
+old Abner Morehall and his wife, from Cloverdale.”
+
+“Abner Morehall!” exclaimed the man, incredulously.
+
+“Yes, Abner Morehall, your own uncle.”
+
+“But--I didn’t know--why didn’t he tell?--” stammered Mr. Morehall,
+confusedly.
+
+“Yes--why do you suppose he didn’t tell you?” said Berty. “That’s the
+blood--the better blood than that of paupers. He was ashamed to have
+you know of his misfortune.”
+
+“He thought I wouldn’t help him,” burst out her companion, and, with
+shame and chagrin in his eyes, he sat down at the table and put his
+hand to his head. “It’s those confounded notes,” he said, at last. “I
+often told him he ought never to put his name to paper.”
+
+“It was his generosity and kindness--his implicit faith in his fellow
+men,” continued Berty, warmly; “and now, Mr. Morehall, can you say
+that ‘blood,’ or shrewdness, or anything else, will always keep
+misfortune from a certain family? Who is to assure you that your
+great-great-grandchildren will not be living on River Street?”
+
+No one could assure the disturbed man that this contingency might not
+arise, and, lifting his head, he gazed at Berty as if she were some
+bird of ill-omen.
+
+“You will come to see your relatives, I suppose?” she murmured.
+
+He made an assenting gesture with his hand.
+
+“They are two dear old people. They give tone to the street--and you
+will send a watering-cart this afternoon?”
+
+He made another assenting gesture. He did not care to talk, and Berty
+slipped quietly from his office.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+SELINA’S WEDDING
+
+
+Selina Everest and the Mayor were married.
+
+On one of the loveliest of autumn mornings, the somewhat mature bride
+had been united in the holy bonds of matrimony to the somewhat mature
+bridegroom, and now, in the old family mansion of the Everests, they
+were receiving the congratulations of their numerous friends. Selina
+had had a church wedding. That she insisted on, greatly to the distress
+and confusion of her modest husband. He had walked up the aisle of the
+church as if to his hanging. One minute he went from red to purple,
+from purple to violent perspiration, the next he became as if wrapped
+in an ice-cold sheet, and not until then could he recover himself.
+
+But now it was all over. This congratulatory business was nothing
+compared to the agonizing experience of being in a crowded church, the
+shrinking target for hundreds of criticizing, shining, awful eyes.
+
+Yes, he was in an ecstasy to think the ordeal was over. Selina never
+would have made him go through it, if she had had the faintest
+conception of what his sufferings would be.
+
+She had enjoyed it. All women enjoy that sort of thing. They are not
+awkward. How can they be, with their sweeping veils and trailing robes?
+He had felt like a fence-post, a rail--anything stiff, and ugly, and
+uncomfortable, and in his heart of hearts he wondered that all those
+well-dressed men and women had not burst into shouts of laughter at him.
+
+Well, it was over--over, thank fortune. He never had been so glad
+to escape from anything in his life, as he had been to get out of
+the church and away from the crowd of people. That alone made him
+blissfully happy, and then, in addition, he had Selina.
+
+He looked at her, and mechanically stretched out a hand to an advancing
+guest. Selina was his now. He not only was out of that church and never
+would have to go into it again for such a purpose as he had gone this
+morning, but Selina Everest was Mrs. Peter Jimson.
+
+He smiled an alarming smile at her, a smile so extraordinarily
+comprehensive, that she hurriedly asked under her breath if he were ill.
+
+“No,” he said, and, in so saying, clasped the hand of the advancing
+friend with such vigour, that the unhappy man retreated swiftly with
+his unspoken congratulations on his lips.
+
+“I’m not ill,” he muttered. “I’m only a little flustered, Selina.”
+
+“Here’s Mrs. Short,” she said, hastily, “be nice to her. She’s a
+particular friend of mine.”
+
+“A fine day, ma’am,” murmured the Mayor; “yes, the crops seem
+good--ought to have rain, though.”
+
+Over by a French window opening on the lawn, Berty and Tom were
+watching the people and making comments.
+
+“Always get mixed up about a bride and groom,” volunteered Tom. “Always
+want to congratulate her, and hope that he’ll be happy. It’s the other
+way, isn’t it?”
+
+“I suppose so,” murmured Berty. “Oh, isn’t it a dream to think that
+they’re both happy?”
+
+“Makes one feel like getting married oneself,” said Tom.
+
+“Yes, doesn’t it? A wedding unsettles me. All the rest of the day I
+wish I were a bride.”
+
+“Do you?” exclaimed Tom, eagerly.
+
+“Yes, and then the next day I think what a goose I am. Being married
+means slavery to some man. You don’t have your own way at all.”
+
+“Men never being slaves to their wives,” remarked Tom.
+
+“Men are by nature lordly, overbearing, proud-spirited, self-willed,
+tyrannical and provoking,” said Berty, sweepingly.
+
+But Tom’s thoughts had been diverted. “Say, Berty, where do those
+Tomkins girls get money to dress that way? They’re visions in those
+shining green things.”
+
+“They spend too much of their father’s money on dress,” replied Berty,
+severely. “Those satins came from Paris. They are an exquisite new
+shade of green. I forget what you call it.”
+
+“I guess old Tomkins is the slave there,” said Tom; then, to avoid
+controversy, he went on, hastily, “You look stunning in that white
+gown.”
+
+“I thought perhaps Selina would want me for a bridesmaid,” said Berty,
+plaintively, “but she didn’t.”
+
+“Too young and foolish,” said Tom, promptly; “but, I say, Berty, where
+did you get the gown?”
+
+“Margaretta gave it to me. I was going to wear muslin, but she said I
+shouldn’t.”
+
+“What is it anyway?” said Tom, putting out a cautious finger to touch
+the soft folds.
+
+“It’s silk, and if you knew how uncomfortable I am in it, you would
+pity me.”
+
+“Uncomfortable! You look as cool as a cucumber.”
+
+“I’m not. I wish I had on a serge skirt and a shirt-waist.”
+
+“Let me get you something to eat,” he said, consolingly. “That going to
+church and standing about here are tiresome.”
+
+“Yes, do,” said Berty. “I hadn’t any breakfast, I was in such a hurry
+to get ready.”
+
+“Here are sandwiches and coffee to start with,” he said, presently
+coming back.
+
+“Thank you--I am so glad Selina didn’t have a sit-down luncheon. This
+is much nicer.”
+
+“Isn’t it! You see, she didn’t want speeches. On an occasion like this,
+the Mayor would be so apt to get wound up that he would keep us here
+till midnight.”
+
+Berty laughed. “And they would have lost their train.”
+
+“There isn’t going to be any train,” said Tom, mysteriously.
+
+“Aren’t they going to New York?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“To Canada?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“To Europe?”
+
+“No--Jimson says he isn’t going to frizzle and fry in big cities in
+this lovely weather, unless Selina absolutely commands, and she doesn’t
+command, so he’s going to row her up the river to the Cloverdale Inn.”
+
+Berty put down her cup and saucer and began to laugh.
+
+“Where are those sandwiches?” asked Tom, trying to peer round the cup.
+
+“Gone,” said Berty, meekly.
+
+He brought her a new supply, then came cake, jellies, sweets, and fruit
+in rapid succession.
+
+Berty, standing partly behind a curtain by the open window, kept her
+admirer so busy that at last he partly rebelled.
+
+[Illustration: “‘A RIVER STREET DELEGATION,’ SAID TOM”]
+
+“Look here, Berty,” he remarked, firmly, “I don’t want to be
+suspicious, but it’s utterly impossible for a girl of your weight and
+education to dispose of so much provender at a single standing. You’re
+up to some tricks with it. Have you got some River Street rats with
+you?”
+
+“Yes,” she said, smilingly. “Hush, don’t tell,” and, slightly pulling
+aside the curtain, she showed him four little heads in a clump of
+syringa bushes outside.
+
+“Newsboy Jim, and Johnny-Boy, and the two girls, Biddy Malone and
+Glorymaroo, as we call her, from her favourite exclamation,” continued
+Berty; “they wanted to see something of the Mayor’s marriage, and I let
+them come. I’ve been handing out ‘ruffreshments’ to them. Don’t scold
+them, Tom.”
+
+“Come right in, youngsters,” said the young man, heartily. “I’m sure
+Mr. Jimson is your Mayor as well as ours.”
+
+Without the slightest hesitation, the four grinning children stepped
+in, and, marshalled by Tom, trotted across the long room to the alcove
+where Selina and the Mayor stood.
+
+“A River Street delegation,” said Tom, presenting them, “come to offer
+congratulations to the chief executive officer of the city.”
+
+Selina shook hands with them. The Mayor smiled broadly, patted their
+heads, and the other guests, who had been bidden, without an exception
+kindly surveyed the unbidden, yet welcome ones.
+
+The introduction over, Tom examined them from head to foot. The little
+rats were in their Sunday clothes. Their heads were sleek and wet from
+recent washing. There was a strong smell of cheap soap about them.
+
+“This way, gentlemen and ladies,” he said, and he led them back to a
+sofa near Berty. “Sit down there in a row. Here are some foot-stools
+for you.
+
+“Waiter,” and he hailed a passing black-coated man, “bring the best you
+have to these children, and, children, you eat as you never ate before.”
+
+Berty stood silently watching him. “Tom Everest,” she remarked, slowly,
+“I have two words to say to you.”
+
+“I’d rather have one,” he muttered.
+
+“Hush,” she said, severely, “and listen. The two words are, ‘Thank
+you.’”
+
+“You’re welcome,” returned Tom, “or, as the French say, ‘There is
+nothing of what--’ Hello, Bonny, what’s the joke?”
+
+Bonny, in a gentlemanly convulsion of laughter, was turning his face
+toward the wall in their direction.
+
+The lad stopped, and while Berty and Tom stood silently admiring his
+almost beautiful face, which was just now as rosy as a girl’s, he grew
+composed.
+
+“I call you to witness, friends,” he said, slightly upraising one hand,
+“that I never in my life before have laughed at dear Grandma.”
+
+“You’ve been cross with her,” said Berty.
+
+“Cross, yes, once or twice, but Grandma isn’t a person to laugh at, is
+she?”
+
+“Well, not exactly,” said Berty. “I never saw anything funny about
+Grandma.”
+
+“Well, she nearly finished me just now,” said Bonny. “I was standing
+near Selina, when gradually there came a break in the hand-shaking. The
+guests’ thoughts began to run luncheon-ward. Grandma was close to the
+bridal pair, and suddenly Selina turned and said, impulsively, ‘Mrs.
+Travers, you have had a great deal of experience. I want you to give
+me a motto to start out with on my wedding-day. Something that will
+be valuable to me, and will make me think of you whenever I repeat
+it.’ The joke of it was that Grandma didn’t want to give her a motto.
+She didn’t seem to have anything handy, but Selina insisted. At last
+Grandma said, in a shot-gun way, ‘Don’t nag!’ then she moved off.”
+
+“Selina stared at the Mayor, and the Mayor stared over her shoulder
+at me. She didn’t see anything funny in it. We did. At last she said,
+meekly, ‘Peter, do you think I am inclined to nag?’
+
+“He just rushed out a sentence at her--‘Upon my life I don’t!’
+
+“‘Do you, Bonny?’ she asked, turning suddenly round on me.
+
+“‘No, Selina, I don’t,’ I told her, but I couldn’t help laughing.
+
+“Jimson grinned from ear to ear, and I started off, leaving Selina
+asking him what he was so amused about.”
+
+Tom began to chuckle, but Berty said, “Well--I don’t see anything to
+laugh at.”
+
+“She doesn’t see anything to laugh at,” repeated Bonny, idiotically,
+then he drew Tom out on the lawn where she could hear their bursts of
+laughter.
+
+Presently the Mayor came strolling over to the low chair where Berty
+sat watching her little River Street friends.
+
+“Is it all right for me to leave Selina for a few minutes?” he asked,
+in an anxious voice. “I can’t ask her, for she is talking to some one.
+I never was married before, and don’t know how to act.”
+
+“Oh, yes,” said Berty, carelessly. “It’s an exploded fancy that a man
+must always stay close to his wife in general society. At home you
+should be tied to your wife’s apron-strings, but in society she takes
+it off.”
+
+“You don’t wear aprons in your set,” said the Mayor, quickly. “I’ve
+found that out. You leave them to the maids.”
+
+“I don’t like aprons,” said Berty. “If I want to protect my dress, I
+tuck a towel under my belt.”
+
+“You’ve odd ways, and I feel queer in your set,” pursued the Mayor,
+in a meditative voice. “Maybe I’ll get used to you, but I don’t know.
+Now I used to think that the upper crust of this city would be mighty
+formal, but you don’t even say, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ and ‘No, ma’am,’ to
+each other. You’re as off-hand as street urchins, and downright saucy
+sometimes I’d say.”
+
+“We’re not as formal as our grandparents were,” said Berty,
+musingly--“there’s everything in environment. We’re nothing but a lot
+of monkeys, anyway--see those children how nicely they are eating. If
+they were on River Street, they would drop those knives and forks, and
+have those chicken bones in their fingers in a jiffy.”
+
+“Do you ever feel inclined to eat with your fingers?” asked Mr.
+Jimson, in a low voice, and looking fearfully about him.
+
+“Often, and I do,” said Berty, promptly. “Always at picnics.”
+
+“My father hated fuss and feathers,” remarked Mr. Jimson. “He always
+went round the house with his hat on, and in his shirt-sleeves.”
+
+“The men on River Street do that,” replied Berty. “I can see some
+reason for the shirt-sleeves, but not for the hat.”
+
+“Mr. Jimson,” said Walter Everest, suddenly coming up to him. “It’s
+time to go. Selina’s up-stairs changing her gown, the two suit-cases
+are in the hall.”
+
+Ten minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Everest, with their children and their
+friends, stood on the front steps calling parting good wishes after
+Selina and the Mayor.
+
+There were many speculations as to their destination, the greater part
+of the guests imagining a far-away trip, as Berty had done.
+
+“You’re all wrong,” observed Tom. “My boat is at Mrs. Travers’s wharf
+for them to go to Cloverdale, and it’s cram jam full of flowers with
+bows of white ribbon on each oar.”
+
+Roger Stanisfield burst out laughing. “You’re sold, Tom, my boy, do
+you suppose the Mayor would trust a joker like you? He has my boat.”
+
+Bonny was in an ecstasy. “Get out, you two old fellows,” he exclaimed,
+slapping his brother-in-law on the shoulder. “Mr. Jimson is going to
+row his beloved up the river in my boat.”
+
+“No, he isn’t,” said Walter Everest. “He’s got mine.”
+
+“I believe he’s fooled us all,” said Tom, ruefully. “Did you have any
+flowers in your boat, Stanisfield?”
+
+“Margaretta put a little bit of rice in,” said Roger, “just a handful,
+where no one would see it but themselves.”
+
+“Did you trim your boat, Bonny?” asked Roger.
+
+“Yes,” said the boy, “with old shoes. I had a dandy pair chained to the
+seat, so they couldn’t be detached, unless Jimson had a hatchet along.”
+
+“Whose boat has he got, for the land’s sake?” inquired Walter Everest.
+“He’s asked us all, and we’ve all pledged secrecy and good conduct, and
+we’ve all broken our word and decorated.”
+
+“He’s got nobody’s boat, my friends,” said old Mr. Everest, who was
+shaking with silent laughter. “Don’t you know Peter Jimson better than
+to imagine that he would exert himself by rowing up the river this
+warm day?”
+
+“Well, what are his means of locomotion?” asked Tom.
+
+“My one-hoss shay, my son. It was waiting round the corner of the road
+for him.”
+
+“I say,” ejaculated Tom, “let’s make up a party to call on them
+to-morrow. We can take the flowers and other trifles.”
+
+“Hurrah,” said Bonny. “I’ll go ask Margaretta to get up a lunch.”
+
+“Will you go to-morrow, Berty?” asked Tom, seeking her out, and
+speaking in a low voice.
+
+“Where?”
+
+He explained to her.
+
+“Yes, if you will tell me why you laughed so much at what Grandma said
+to Selina.”
+
+Tom looked puzzled. “It’s mighty hard to explain, for there isn’t
+anything hidden in it. It just sounded kind of apt.”
+
+“You men think women talk too much.”
+
+“Some women,” replied Tom, guardedly.
+
+“You want them to do as the old philosopher said, ‘Speak honey and look
+sunny,’ and, ‘The woman that maketh a good pudding in silence is better
+than one that maketh a tart reply.’”
+
+“That’s it exactly,” said Tom, with a beaming face. “Now will you go
+to-morrow?”
+
+“Probably,” said Berty, with an oracular frown. “If I am not teased too
+much.”
+
+“May I come in this evening and see how you feel about it?”
+
+“How long do you plan to stay?”
+
+“Five minutes.”
+
+“Then you may come,” she said, graciously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+TO STRIKE OR NOT TO STRIKE
+
+
+When the picnic party reached Cloverdale the day after the wedding, the
+Jimsons were not there.
+
+Where Mr. Jimson concealed his bride and himself during his brief
+honeymoon no one ever knew, for he would not tell, and she could not,
+being bound to secrecy.
+
+No one, that is, no one except Mr. and Mrs. Everest, and old Mrs.
+Jimson. To them Selina and the Mayor confided the news that they
+had been in a quiet New Hampshire village, where they could enjoy
+delightful drives among hills resplendent in autumn dress, and have no
+society forced on them but that of their hostess--a farmer’s widow.
+
+As a result of this reposeful life, Mr. Jimson came home looking ten
+years younger, and Roger Stanisfield, meeting him in the street, told
+him so.
+
+“I’ve had a quiet time for once in my life,” said Mr. Jimson. “I ought
+to have got married long ago. I have some one to look after me, and me
+only now. How is your wife?”
+
+“Well, thank you.”
+
+“And Tom and Berty and Bonny--gracious! I feel as if I had been away a
+year instead of three weeks.”
+
+A shade passed over Roger’s face. “All well but Grandma and Berty.”
+
+“What’s the matter with Grandma?”
+
+“I don’t know. I am afraid she is breaking up.”
+
+The Mayor looked serious, then he asked, abruptly, “And Berty?”
+
+“Oh, River Street--it’s on her brain and conscience, and it is wearing
+her body down.”
+
+“She’s doing what the rest of us ought to do,” said Mr. Jimson,
+shortly, “but, bless me--you can’t make over a city in a day; and we’re
+no worse than others.”
+
+“I suppose the city council is pretty bad.”
+
+Mr. Jimson shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“Lots of boodle--I say, some of those aldermen ought to be dumped in
+the river.”
+
+“You ought to get Berty out of city politics,” said Mr. Jimson,
+energetically. “That is no girl’s work.”
+
+“She’s going to get out, Margaretta thinks,” said Roger, turning round
+and slowly walking down the main street of the city beside him. “But
+we’ve got to let her work out the problem for herself. You see, she’s
+no missionary. She is not actuated by the passion of a life-work. She
+has come to live in a new neighbourhood, and is mad with the people
+that they don’t try to better themselves, and that the city doesn’t
+enable them to do it.”
+
+“She’ll probably marry Tom Everest, and settle down to housekeeping.”
+
+“That will be the upshot of it. I’d be doubtful about it, though, if
+the River Street people had given her a hand in her schemes of reform.”
+
+“She’s just an ordinary girl,” said the Mayor, briskly. “She’s no angel
+to let the River Streeters walk all over her.”
+
+“No, she’s no angel,” returned Roger, with a smile, “but she’s a pretty
+good sort of a girl.”
+
+“That she is,” replied Mr. Jimson, heartily. “Now tell me to a dot just
+what she has been doing since I went away. She seemed all right then.”
+
+Roger looked amused, then became grave. “Just after you left, she got
+worked up on the subject of child labour. It seems the law is broken
+here in Riverport.”
+
+“How does our State law read?” inquired Mr. Jimson. “Upon my word, I
+don’t know.”
+
+“The statutes of Maine provide that no female under eighteen years
+of age, no male under sixteen, and no woman shall be employed in any
+manufactory or mechanical establishment more than ten hours each day.
+We also have a compulsory education law which prohibits children
+under fifteen years of either sex working, unless they can produce
+certificates that during the year they have attended school during its
+sessions.”
+
+“Well?” said Mr. Jimson.
+
+“Berty found that some old-clothes man here had a night-class of
+children who came and sewed for him, and did not attend school. She
+burst into our house one evening when Margaretta was having a party,
+and before we knew where we were she had swept us all down to River
+Street. It was a pitiful enough spectacle. A dozen sleepy youngsters
+sitting on backless benches toiling at shirt-making, round a table
+lighted by candles. If a child nodded, the old man tapped her with a
+long stick. Some of us broke up that den, but Berty was furious at the
+attitude of the parents.”
+
+“I’ll bet they were mad to have their children’s earnings cut off,”
+observed Mr. Jimson. “Poor people are so avaricious.”
+
+“They were, and Berty was in a dancing rage. She got up a paper called
+_The Cry of the Children_. You can imagine what her editorials would
+be. Then she had the children of River Street walk in a procession
+through the city. Nobody laughed at her, everybody was sympathetic
+but apathetic. Now she is in a smouldering temper. Her paper is
+discontinued, and I don’t know what she is going to do.”
+
+“This is mighty interesting,” said Mr. Jimson, “but there’s Jones, the
+lumber merchant from Greenport. I’ve got to speak to him--excuse me,”
+and he crossed the street.
+
+Roger continued on his way to the iron works, and two minutes later
+encountered Berty herself coming out of a fancy-work store.
+
+“Good morning,” he said, planting himself directly before her.
+
+“Good morning,” she returned, composedly.
+
+“What have you been buying?” he asked, looking curiously at the parcel
+in her hand.
+
+“Embroidery.”
+
+“For some other person, I suppose.”
+
+“No, for myself.”
+
+“Why, I never saw you with a needle in your hand in my life.”
+
+“You will now,” she said, calmly.
+
+“How’s the park getting on, Berty?”
+
+“Famously; we have electric lights, and the children can stay till all
+hours.”
+
+“Is your helper satisfactory?”
+
+“She is magnificent--a host in herself. She can shake a bad boy on one
+side of the park, and slap another at the other side, at the same time.
+I think I’ll resign my curatorship in favour of her. She only gets half
+my pay now.”
+
+“Why resign, Berty?”
+
+“Well, I may have other things to do,” she said, evasively.
+
+“You’re going to get married.”
+
+“Not that I know of,” she said, calmly.
+
+“Good-bye,” replied Roger; “come oftener to see us, and be sure to
+bring your embroidery.”
+
+Berty gazed after him with a peculiar smile, as he swung quickly away,
+then she made her way to River Street.
+
+At one of the many corners where lanes led down to wharves, a group of
+men stood talking with their hands in their pockets.
+
+Berty stopped abruptly. Through the women in the street she knew what
+the chief topic of conversation among the wharf labourers just now
+happened to be.
+
+“Are you talking of your projected strike?” she asked, shortly.
+
+Not one of them spoke, but she knew by their assenting looks that they
+were.
+
+“It’s a lovely time for a strike,” she said, dryly; “winter just coming
+on, and your wives and children needing extra supplies.”
+
+The men surveyed her indulgently. Not one of them would discuss their
+proposed course of action with her, but not one resented her knowledge
+of it, or interference with them.
+
+“You men don’t suffer,” she said, and as she spoke she pulled up the
+collar of her jacket, and took a few steps down the lane to avoid the
+chilly wind. “See, here you stand without overcoats, and some of you
+with nothing but woollen shirts on. It’s the women and children that
+feel the cold.”
+
+One of the men thoughtfully turned a piece of tobacco in his mouth, and
+said, “That’s true.”
+
+“What do you strike for, anyway?” she asked.
+
+One of the stevedores who trundled the drums of codfish along the
+wharves for West Indian shipment, said, amiably, “A strike is usually
+for higher wages and shorter hours, miss.”
+
+“Oh, I have no patience with you,” exclaimed Berty, bursting into
+sudden wrath. “You are so unreasonable. You bear all things, suffer
+like martyrs, then all at once you flare up and do some idiotic thing
+that turns the sympathy of the public against you. Now in this case,
+you ought to have the public with you. I know your wages are small,
+your hours too long, but you are not taking the right way to improve
+your condition. Because the Greenport wharf labourers have struck, you
+think you must do the same. A strike among you will mean lawlessness
+and violence, and you strikers will blink at this same lawlessness
+and violence because you say it is in a good cause. Then we, the
+long-suffering public, hate you for your illegality. There’s the strong
+arm of the law held equally over employers and employed. Why don’t you
+appeal to that? If you are right, that arm will strike your oppressors.
+You can keep in the background.”
+
+“There’s a machine back of that arm,” said a red-haired man, gloomily,
+“and, anyway, there ain’t a law standing to cover our case.”
+
+“Then make one,” said Berty, irritably. “You men all have votes,
+haven’t you?”
+
+“Yes, miss,” said a man in a blue shirt, “all except this lad. He’s
+just out from Ireland. He’s only been ashore two weeks.”
+
+“That’s the way to settle things,” said Berty, warmly. “I’ve found out
+that votes are the only things that make anybody afraid of you--you all
+know how I came to this street. I found living conditions unbearable.
+In my feeble way I have tried to rectify them. Nobody cares anything
+for me. The only good I have accomplished is to get a park for the
+children.”
+
+“And that was a great thing,” said the man in the blue shirt, “and I
+guess we all think of it when we look at you.”
+
+“I just wanted common necessities,” said Berty, eloquently, “air,
+light, water, and space--wanted them for myself and my neighbours on
+the street. I have badgered the city council till I have got to be a
+joke and a reproach. Nobody cares anything about you down here, because
+you haven’t any influence. I’ve found out that if I could say to the
+city council, ‘Gentlemen, I have five hundred votes to control,’ they
+would listen to me fast enough.”
+
+The men smiled, and one said, kindly, “I’m sure, miss, you’d get our
+votes in a bunch, if we could give them.”
+
+“I don’t want them,” said Berty, quickly. “It isn’t a woman’s business
+to go into reforming city politics. It’s the men’s place. You men
+fight for your homes if a foreign enemy menaces us. Why don’t you
+organize, and fight against the city council? Drive it out, and put in
+a good one. Those few men aren’t there to make the laws. They are to
+administer them. You are the people. Make what laws you please. If they
+are not workable, make new ones. I’m disgusted with those aldermen.
+The very idea of their arrogating to themselves so much authority. You
+would think they were emperors.”
+
+The men smiled again. From him in the blue shirt came the emphatic
+remark, “We couldn’t turn out the present lot, miss. They’re too strong
+for us.”
+
+“Oh, you could,” replied Berty, impatiently. “I’ve been going over
+our voting-list, and I find that the city of Riverport consists of
+‘poor people,’ as we call them, to the extent of two-thirds of the
+population. You poor men have the votes. Now don’t tell me you can’t
+get what you want.”
+
+“But there’s party politics, miss,” suggested a quiet man in the
+background.
+
+“Shame on you, Malone,” and Berty pointed a finger at him, “shame on
+you, to put party politics before family politics. Vote for the man
+who will do the best for your wife and children. If you haven’t got
+such a man, organize and put one in. Let him give you equal privileges
+with the rich--or, rather, not equal privileges--I am no socialist. I
+believe that some men have more brains than others, and are entitled by
+virtue of their brains to more enjoyments and more power, but I mean
+that the city owes to every citizen, however poor, a comfortable house
+and a decently kept street.”
+
+“That’s sound, miss,” said Malone, slipping still further forward, “but
+we’d never get it from the city.”
+
+“Put in some of your number as aldermen. Why shouldn’t you in
+democratic America, when even in conservative England there can exist
+a city council made up of men who work by the day--masons, painters,
+bricklayers, and so on. Do that, and you will have a chance to carry
+out all sorts of municipal reforms. I think it is disgraceful that this
+ward is represented by that oiled and perfumed old gentleman Demarley,
+who never comes to this street unless he wants a vote.”
+
+Malone stared intently at Berty, while a man beside him murmured
+something about the board of aldermen having promised certain reforms.
+
+“Don’t speak to me of reforms from those men that we have now,”
+returned Berty, with flashing eyes. “When I came to River Street, I
+used to blame the policemen that they didn’t enforce the law. Now I
+see that each policeman is a chained dog for some alderman. He can
+only go the length of his chain. A strapping great creature in uniform
+comes along to your house, Mr. Malone, and says, in a lordly way, ‘Mrs.
+Malone, you are obstructing the sidewalk with those boxes; you must
+remove them.’
+
+“‘And you are obstructing my peace of mind,’ she says, ‘with that old
+drug-store over there open all hours, and with our young lads slipping
+in and out the back door, when they ought to be in bed. Haven’t you
+eyes or a nose for anything but boxes?’
+
+“And the policeman says, meekly, ‘I see nothing, I hear nothing; there
+must be something wrong with your own eyes and hearing, Mrs. Malone.
+It’s getting old you are.’ Then he moves on to look for more boxes and
+small boys. That’s the length of his chain.”
+
+They were silent, and Berty, with increasing heat and irritation, went
+on. “This city is entirely corrupt. I say it again and again, and you
+know it better than I do--but I am going to stop talking about it. I
+had a lovely scheme for setting up a shop to sell pure milk to try to
+keep the breath of life in your babies a little longer, and I was going
+to get out plans for model dwellings, but I am going to stop short
+right here, and mind my own business.”
+
+The men stood looking sheepishly at her, and at themselves, and, while
+they stood, Tom Everest, in a short walking-coat, and with his hat on
+the back of his head, came hurrying down the street.
+
+He put his hat on straight when he saw Berty, and stopped to glance
+at her. He had got into the way of dodging down to River Street if he
+had any business that brought him in the neighbourhood, or if he could
+spare an hour from his office.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+DISCOURAGED
+
+
+When Berty’s eyes rested on Tom, he came forward hat in hand.
+
+“Is there anything I can do for you?” he inquired, calmly, but with
+inward anxiety as he noticed her flushed face.
+
+“No, thank you,” she said, wearily, “I was just talking to some of my
+friends here.”
+
+Tom nodded to the men in a civil manner, then said, “Are you going
+home?”
+
+“Yes, presently,” she returned. “I will just finish what I was saying.
+I was telling these men, Mr. Everest, that when I came to River Street,
+and saw how many things needed to be done in order to make the place
+comfortable, my brain was on fire. I wished to do everything to enable
+my neighbours to have decent homes and a pure atmosphere in which to
+bring up their children. But now I have got discouraged with them.
+They don’t second me. All the rich people say that poor people are
+shiftless and ungrateful, and I am beginning to think they are right.
+Here are these men standing before us. They are just as sensible as
+you are, or as any man in the city, but again and again they will vote
+for aldermen who care no more for their interests than they do for the
+interests of the sparrows flying about the city. They can pick up a
+living the best way they can. The city council has not one bit of care
+of its children, except the rich ones, and I say to these men here that
+there is no use for me or anybody to try to help them. They have got to
+help themselves.”
+
+Tom looked concerned, but made no endeavour to reply, and Berty went on:
+
+“It is all very fine to talk of helping the poor, and uplifting the
+poor. It just makes them more pauper-like for you to settle down among
+them, and bear all the burden of lifting them up. They have got to help
+you, and because they won’t help me, I am going to leave River Street
+just as soon as I get money enough. I’m disgusted with these people.”
+
+Tom, to Berty’s surprise, gave no expression of relief--and yet how
+many times he had begged her to turn her back on this neighbourhood.
+
+The wharf-men sank into a state of greater sheepishness than before.
+One of them, who carried a whip under his arm, shifted it, and,
+reaching forward, pushed Malone with it.
+
+Other of the men were nudging him, and at last he remarked,
+regretfully, “I’m sorry to hear you say that you want to quit the
+street, miss. I hope you’ll change your mind.”
+
+“Well, now, do you think it is a nice thing for me to be constantly
+running about interviewing aldermen who hate the sight of me, on the
+subject of the rights of great strong men like you and these others?
+Come, now, is it work for a girl?”
+
+“Well, no, miss, it isn’t,” said Malone, uneasily.
+
+“Then why don’t you do it yourselves? The ideal thing is to trust
+people, to believe that your neighbour loves you as well as he does
+himself, but he doesn’t. He pretends he does, but you’ve got to watch
+him to make a pretence a reality. For the good of your alderman
+neighbour make him love you. You don’t want plush sofas and lace window
+curtains. Bah, I’m getting so I don’t care a fig for the ‘rags’ of
+life--but you want well-made furniture, and a clean pane of glass to
+look out at God’s sky.”
+
+“That’s so,” muttered Malone.
+
+“Then for goodness’ sake get to work. Municipal reform can start right
+here on River Street as well as on Grand Avenue. I have all sorts of
+lovely papers telling just how model municipal government should be,
+and is conducted. It’s a living, acting plan in several cities, but I
+sha’n’t tell any of you one thing about it, unless you come and ask me.
+I’m tired of cramming information down your throats. Go on and strike,
+and do anything foolish you can. Let your wives freeze, and your poor
+children cry for food this winter. In the spring there will be a fine
+lot of funerals.”
+
+“Oh, I say, Berty,” remarked Tom, in an undertone.
+
+Her eyes were full of tears, but she went plunging on. “And I’ll tell
+you one thing that may be published to the city any day. I was not
+told not to tell it. Mr. Jimson wrote me a letter while he was away,
+and I think he is going to resign the mayoralty. He won’t tell why, of
+course, but I know it is because the city council is so corrupt. Now if
+you men had stood by him, and put in a decent set of councillors, he
+might have stayed in. I haven’t said a word of this before, because I
+felt so badly about it.”
+
+The men scarcely heard her last sentences. The “River Streeters,” as
+they were called, took to a man an extraordinary interest in civic
+affairs, and they fell to discussing this bit of news among themselves.
+
+“Come home, Berty,” said Tom.
+
+“Yes, I will,” she said, meekly. “I’ve said all I want to. Just steady
+me over that crossing. I’ve got dust in my eyes.”
+
+Poor Berty--she was crying, and good, honest Tom choked back a sudden
+sympathetic lump in his throat.
+
+“Don’t worry, little girl,” he said, huskily. “You’ve done a lot of
+good already, and we’re all proud of you.”
+
+“I have done nothing,” said Berty, passionately, “nothing but get the
+park for the children. I just love the children on this street. I want
+their fathers to do something for them. It’s awful, Tom, to bring up
+boys and girls in such an atmosphere. What will their parents say when
+they stand before the judgment seat--I can’t stand it, Tom--the lost
+souls of the little ones just haunt me.”
+
+“There, there,” murmured Tom, consolingly, “we’re most home. Try to
+think of something else, Berty--you’ll live to do lots of work for the
+children yet.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+GRANDMA’S REQUEST
+
+
+For three weeks the weather had been chilly and disagreeable. “The
+winter will set in early,” the oldest inhabitants were prophesying,
+when suddenly the full glory of the Indian summer burst upon the city.
+
+Berty was delighted. “Dear Grandma will get better now,” she kept
+saying, hopefully. “This is what she wants--just a little warm sunshine
+before the winter comes.”
+
+Grandma’s health had for some time been a cause of anxiety to her many
+friends. All through the autumn she had been ailing, and strangely
+quiet, even for her. And she had complained of feeling cold, a thing
+she had never done before in her life. Nothing seemed to warm her,
+not even the blazing fires that Berty kept in some of the many open
+fireplaces with which the old house was well supplied.
+
+To-day there was a change. When the warm, lovely sunshine came
+streaming into her room, Grandma had got out of bed. She had come
+down-stairs, and, very quietly, but with a gentle smile that sent Berty
+into an ecstasy of delight, she had visited every room in the house.
+
+The guinea-pigs and pigeons in the wood-shed, the two women working in
+the kitchen, had been made glad by a call from her, and now she was
+resting on a sofa in the parlour.
+
+“I feel twenty years younger to see you going about!” exclaimed Berty,
+delightedly, as she tucked a blanket round her.
+
+“Twenty years!” murmured Grandma.
+
+“Of course that’s exaggeration,” explained Berty, apologetically. “I
+know that you know I’m not twenty yet. I just wanted you to understand
+how glad I feel.”
+
+“Go out on the veranda,” said Grandma, “and breathe the fresh air. You
+have been in the house too much with me lately.”
+
+Berty’s upper lip was covered with a dew of perspiration. She was hot
+all the time, partly from excitement and anxiety about Grandma, and
+partly from her incessant activity in waiting on her in the heated
+atmosphere of the house.
+
+Berty reluctantly made her way to the veranda, where she promptly
+dislodged from a rocking-chair the mongrel pup, who, after long
+hesitation, had finally chosen to take up his abode with her.
+
+The pup, however, crawled up beside her after she sat down, and she
+gently swayed to and fro in the rocking-chair, absently stroking his
+head and gazing out at the stripped grain-fields across the river.
+
+    “The ripened sheaves are garnered in,
+    Garnered in, garnered in,”
+
+she was singing softly to herself, when some one remarked in an
+undertone, “Well, how goes it?”
+
+“Oh,” she said, looking up, “it is you, is it, the omnipresent Tom?”
+
+“Yes, I just slipped up for a minute to see how Grandma is. Won’t this
+sunshine set her up?”
+
+“You saw her as you came through the room?”
+
+“Yes, but she was asleep, so I did not speak. How is she?”
+
+“Better, much better, and I am so glad.”
+
+“So am I,” responded Tom, heartily; “it makes us all feel bad to have
+her ill, but, I say, Berty, you must not take it so to heart. You’re
+looking thin.”
+
+“I can’t help worrying about Grandma, Tom.”
+
+“How long since you’ve been out?”
+
+“Two weeks.”
+
+“That’s too long for one of your active disposition to stay in the
+house. Come, take your dog and walk back to town with me. See, he is
+all ready to come.”
+
+Mugwump, indeed, was fawning round Tom in a servile manner.
+
+“He’s liked me ever since he had a taste of my coat,” observed the
+young man.
+
+“If you won’t take a walk with me, let me row you over to Bobbetty’s
+Island this afternoon,” pursued Tom.
+
+Berty shook her head, but said, eagerly, “Do tell me how Mafferty is
+getting on.”
+
+“Finely--he says that’s a first-class shanty we put up for him--the
+stove is a beauty, and, Berty, another consignment of cats has arrived.”
+
+“Oh, Tom, what are they like?”
+
+The young man launched into a description of the new arrivals. “There
+are four white kittens--one pair yellow eyes, three pairs blue, for
+which you should charge twenty dollars to intending purchasers; three
+black Persian kings, worth thirty dollars, and a few assorted kittens
+from five dollars up.”
+
+Berty listened in rapt attention. When he had finished, she said,
+“You’ve been tremendously good about my tramp, Tom.”
+
+“I like partnerships,” he said, modestly; “in fact, I--”
+
+“That reminds me,” interrupted Berty, unceremoniously; “has he had
+another letter from his wife?”
+
+“Yes, she is coming in ten days.”
+
+The girl clasped her dog so energetically round the neck that he
+squealed in protest. “Isn’t it just lovely, that we have been able to
+do something for that man? Oh, do you suppose he will be happy there
+with his wife and the cats?”
+
+“No, certainly not,” said Tom, coolly. “He’s going to have his bursts,
+of course.”
+
+“And what are we to do?” asked Berty, sorrowfully.
+
+“Forgive him, and row him back to the island,” said Tom, hopefully.
+“It’s as much our business to look after him as anybody’s.”
+
+Berty turned in her chair, and stared at him long and intently. “Tom
+Everest, you are changing.”
+
+“Pray Heaven, I am,” he said earnestly, and something in the bright,
+steady gaze bent on her made her eyes fill with tears.
+
+“I have learned a lot from you,” he continued, in a low voice. “When
+I heard you talking to those men the other day, it stirred my heart.
+It seemed pitiful Berty, that a girl like you, who might think only of
+amusing herself, should be so touched by her neighbours’ woes that she
+should give up her own peace of mind in order to try to help them. Then
+I heard that though you could not move the men, the women of the street
+were much put out at the thought of your leaving, and so exasperated
+with the men, that they told them they had got to do something to help
+their families. I said to myself, ‘I’ve only been giving Berty a half
+assistance up to this. She shall have my whole assistance now.’”
+
+Berty’s face was glowing. “Tom,” she said, gently, “if we live, we
+shall see great reforms on River Street.”
+
+“I hope so,” he replied, heartily.
+
+“We shall see,” and she upraised one slim brown hand, “perhaps, oh,
+perhaps and possibly, but still, I trust, truly, we shall see this our
+city one of the best governed in America.”
+
+“Oh, I hope so,” returned Tom, with a kind of groan.
+
+“Don’t doubt it,” continued the girl. “Who lives will see. I tell you,
+Tom, the women are desperate. The River Street houses are growing older
+and older. What woman can endure seeing her children die, and know that
+they are poisoned out of existence? I tell you, Tom, the men have got
+to do something or emigrate.”
+
+“They’ll not emigrate,” said Tom, shortly, “and upon my word,” and he
+looked round about him, “I don’t know but what I’d be willing to live
+on River Street myself, to help reform it.”
+
+Berty was silent for a long time, then she said, in a low voice, “You
+will not regret that speech, Tom Everest.”
+
+“All right, little girl,” he replied, cheerfully, and jumping up from
+his low seat. “Now I must get back to work. Come, Mugwump, I guess your
+missis will let you have a walk, even if she won’t go herself.”
+
+The lawless dog, without glancing at Berty for permission, bounded to
+his side and licked his hand.
+
+“You haven’t very good manners, dog,” said Tom, lightly, “but I guess
+your mistress likes you.”
+
+“I always did like the bad ones best,” said Berty, wistfully. “It
+seems as if they had more need of friends--good-bye, Tom.”
+
+“Good-bye, little girl,” he returned, throwing her a kiss from the tips
+of his fingers. “Maybe I’ll run up this afternoon.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+DOWN THE RIVER
+
+
+Tom did not get up in the afternoon. However, he came in the evening,
+and the next morning, and the next.
+
+Margaretta and Roger, Bonny, Selina, and Mr. Jimson also came. Grandma
+was decidedly better, and in their joy they came even oftener than they
+had in their sorrow at her illness.
+
+Berty could hardly contain herself for very lightness and extravagance
+of spirit. It had seemed to her that she could not endure the mere
+thought of a further and long-continued illness on the part of her
+beloved grandmother. To think of that other contingency--her possible
+death--sent her into fits of shuddering and despondency in which it
+seemed as if she, too, would die if her grandmother did.
+
+Now all was changed. Day by day the exquisite sunshine continued,
+the air was balmy, there was a yellow haze about the sun. It seemed
+to Berty that she was living in an enchanted world. Grandma was going
+about the house with a firm step--a bright eye. She had gone over all
+her trunks and closets. She had sorted letters, tidied her boxes of
+clothes, and arranged all her belongings with a neatness and expedition
+that seemed to betoken the energy of returned youthfulness.
+
+She was also knitting again. Nothing had pleased Berty as much as this.
+Tears of delight fell on the silk stocking as she handed it to Grandma
+the first time she asked her for it.
+
+“Dear Grandma,” said Berty, on this afternoon, abruptly dropping on a
+foot-stool beside her, and putting her head on her knee, “dear Grandma.”
+
+Mrs. Travers, still steadily knitting, glanced at her as if to say,
+“Why this sudden access of affection?”
+
+“It doesn’t mean anything in particular,” said Berty, pressing still
+closer, “only that you are so dear.”
+
+Grandma smiled, and went on with her work.
+
+“You are just toeing that stocking off,” said Berty.
+
+“Yes, dear,” replied her grandmother. “This is the last of the six
+pairs for Mrs. Darley-James. You will remember, Berty, they are all for
+her.”
+
+“Why should I remember?” asked the girl, anxiously. “You always
+remember for yourself.”
+
+“True,” said Mrs. Travers, composedly, and, getting up, she went to
+her writing-desk. Taking out a roll of exquisitely made stockings, she
+wrapped them in a piece of paper, and with a firm hand wrote, “Mrs.
+Darley-James, from her old friend, Margaret Travers.”
+
+Having directed the parcel, she left her desk and went to the veranda.
+
+Berty followed her. Grandma was looking strangely up and down the
+river--strangely and restlessly. At last she said, “It’s a glorious
+afternoon. I should like to go out in a boat.”
+
+“But, Grandma,” said Berty, uneasily, “do you feel able for it?”
+
+Her grandmother looked at her, and the brightness of her face silenced
+the girl’s scruples.
+
+“I will take you in my boat, dear,” she said, gently, “if you wish to
+go.”
+
+“I should like to have Margaretta come,” said Mrs. Travers.
+
+“Very well, we will send for her.”
+
+“And Roger,” said Grandma.
+
+“Roger is at an important business meeting this afternoon, I happen to
+know,” said Berty, hesitatingly.
+
+“He would leave it for me,” said Grandma.
+
+“Do you wish me to ask him?” inquired Berty, in some anxiety.
+
+“Yes,” said Grandma, softly.
+
+Berty got up and was about to leave the veranda, when Mrs. Travers went
+on. “Will you send for Bonny, too?”
+
+“Oh, Grandma, don’t you feel well?” asked Berty, in increasing anxiety.
+
+“Just at present I do, dear,” and her voice was so clear, her manner so
+calm, that Berty was reassured until her next remark.
+
+“Berty, where is Tom this afternoon?”
+
+“Oh, Grandma, he was going to Bangor on business. He is just about
+getting to the station now.”
+
+“Will you send for him, too?”
+
+“Send for him?” faltered Berty. “Oh, Grandma, you are ill. You must be
+ill.”
+
+“Do I look ill?”
+
+“Oh, no, no,” said Berty, in despair. “You don’t look ill, your face is
+like an angel’s, but you frighten me.”
+
+“My child,” said Grandma, “I never felt better in my life; but despatch
+your messengers.”
+
+Berty left the room. She had a strange sensation as if walking on air.
+“Bring your boat, Roger,” she wrote, “your family boat. Mine isn’t
+large enough.”
+
+Her messengers were faithful, and in an hour Margaretta, Bonny, Roger,
+and Tom were hastening to the house.
+
+Berty met them in the hall. “No, Grandma isn’t ill,” she said, with a
+half-sob. “Don’t stare at her, and don’t frighten her. She just took a
+fancy to go out boating, and to have you all with her.”
+
+“But it is so unlike Grandma to interfere or to disarrange plans,”
+murmured Margaretta; “there is something wrong.” However, she said
+nothing aloud, and went quietly into the parlour with the others and
+spoke to Grandma, who looked at them all with a strange brightness in
+her eyes, but said little.
+
+Tom could not get the fright from his manner. Old Mrs. Travers would
+not interrupt a railway journey for a trifle. They might say what they
+liked.
+
+In somewhat breathless and foreboding silence they got into Roger’s
+big boat moored at the landing, and he and Tom took the oars.
+
+Once out upon the bosom of the calmly flowing river, their faces
+brightened. Sky and water were resplendent, and they were softly
+enveloped in the golden haze of approaching sunset.
+
+Here where the river was broadest the shores seemed dim in the yellow
+light. With the dying glory of the sun behind them, they went down the
+stream in the direction of Grandma’s pointing hand.
+
+How well she looked, propped up on her cushions in the stern. Her eyes
+were shining with a new light, her very skin seemed transparent and
+luminous. Was it possible that, instead of failing and entering upon a
+weary old age, this new-found energy betokened a renewed lease of life?
+Their faces brightened still further. Tom at last lost the fright from
+his eyes, and Berty’s vanished colour began to come fitfully back.
+
+As they sat enfolding her in loving glances, Grandma occasionally spoke
+in low, short sentences, mostly relating to the river.
+
+“I was born by it--it has been a friend to me. Children, you will all
+live by the river.”
+
+Upon arriving opposite Bobbetty’s Island, Grandma smiled. Berty’s
+tramp, Mafferty, in a decent suit of clothes, stood on a rock,
+surrounded by a number of handsome, dignified cats, who sat or stood
+beside him like so many dogs. As they passed he waved them a respectful
+greeting with one of Tom’s discarded hats.
+
+“You will not give him up,” said Grandma to Tom. “You will not become
+discouraged.”
+
+“I will not,” he said, solemnly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+LAST WORDS
+
+
+“The sun has gone down,” said Margaretta, suddenly.
+
+It had indeed. The huge golden ball had just dropped behind the hills
+on the western side of the river.
+
+Grandma half-raised herself on her cushions, a restrained eagerness
+took possession of her, as if she were disappointed that she had not
+obtained one more glimpse of the king of day, then she sank back and
+smiled into the unwavering eyes of her youngest granddaughter. The eyes
+of the others might occasionally wander. Berty’s gaze had not left her
+face since they came upon the river.
+
+“You wished to see the sun again,” said Berty. “I should have warned
+you that it was about to disappear.”
+
+“I wished to say good-bye to it,” said Grandma, “a last good-bye.”
+
+“To say good-bye,” repeated Berty, in a stunned voice, “a last
+good-bye,” and with a heart-broken gesture she put her hand to her
+head, as if wondering if she had heard aright.
+
+Margaretta was trembling. Since the withdrawal of the sun, the yellow,
+lovely glow had faded. There was a gray shadow on everything, even on
+their own bright faces--on all except Grandma’s. That radiance about
+her was not a reflection of any light in this world; it was unearthly;
+and she fearfully touched Roger with a finger.
+
+She knew now why they had been brought out upon the river, and,
+endeavouring once, twice, and finally a third time, she managed to
+utter, in a quivering voice, “Grandma, shall we take you home?”
+
+“No, Margaretta,” replied Grandma, clearly, and she pointed down the
+river. “Take me toward the sea. I shall soon be sent for.”
+
+They all understood her now. Their scarcely suppressed forebodings
+rushed back and enveloped them in a dark, unhappy cloud.
+
+Grandma was repeating in a low voice, “Thy sun shall no more go down,
+neither shall thy moon withdraw itself, for the Lord shall be thine
+everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended.”
+
+Margaretta, leaning over, drew a flask from Roger’s pocket. Then,
+slipping past the motionless Berty, she knelt before her grandmother.
+
+“Dearest, I brought a stimulant with me. Will you have some?”
+
+“But I have no need of it,” said Grandma, opening wide her strangely
+beautiful eyes.
+
+It seemed to Margaretta that she could not endure their bliss, their
+radiance. She turned her head quietly away, and, with a rain of tears
+falling down her face, sat looking out over the river.
+
+Presently controlling herself, she again turned to her grandmother.
+Perhaps there was something she could do for her. Her hands might be
+cold. They were, and Margaretta, taking them in her own, chafed them
+gently.
+
+Grandma smiled quietly. “Always thoughtful--my dear, you will be a
+mother to Bonny.”
+
+“I will,” said the weeping girl.
+
+“Do not be unhappy,” said Grandma, pleadingly. “I am so happy to go. My
+earthly house is in order. I long for my heavenly one.”
+
+“But--but, Grandma, you have been happy with us,” stammered Margaretta.
+
+“Happy, so happy--always remember that. My only trouble a separated
+family. One half in heaven, the other on earth. One day to be
+reunited. You will cherish each other after I am gone--you precious
+ones on earth--Roger?”
+
+The young man nodded, and bent his head low over the oars.
+
+“And Tom,” said Grandma, with exquisite sweetness, “my third grandson,
+you will take care of Berty?” Tom tried to speak, failed, tried again,
+but Grandma knew the significance of his hoarse, inarticulate murmur.
+Then he averted his gaze from the heart-breaking sight of Berty at her
+grandmother’s feet. The despairing girl had clasped them to her breast.
+Grandma was more to her than any of them. How could he comfort her for
+such a loss?
+
+“Come, come,” said Grandma, cheerily, “our parting is but for a little.
+See, my child, my spirit is growing brighter and brighter. It has
+outgrown this poor old worn-out body. Berty, lift your head, and look
+your grandmother once more in the eyes.”
+
+After some delay, Berty, in mute, anguished silence did as she was bid.
+
+“Some day,” said Grandma, firmly, “your own sturdy limbs will fail you.
+You will fly from them as from a discarded burden, and come to rejoin
+your mother and grandmother in the sky. Let me hear you speak. Will
+you be brave?”
+
+Still in dumb, tearless sorrow, the girl shook her head.
+
+“Is this the child I have brought up?” asked Grandma, with some
+faintness. “Have I been unsuccessful? Where is your strength in the
+hour of trial?”
+
+Berty clasped her hands to her side. “Grandma,” she said, slowly, and
+as if each word were wrung from her. “I will be brave, I will not
+forget what you have told me.”
+
+“Keep your own family together, and keep the welfare of the children
+of the city next your heart,” said Grandma, with new strength, “so you
+will be blessed in your own soul.”
+
+“I promise,” said Berty, with quivering lips.
+
+“Give my love to Selina and her husband,” Grandma went on, after a
+short pause. “They are happy together, and they know their duty.
+They have no need of words from me. And now, Bonny, my own and last
+grandchild--the baby of the family.”
+
+The boy stretched out his hands. He was younger than the others, and he
+made no attempt to restrain his sobs.
+
+“Such a dear baby he was,” murmured Grandma, patting his downcast head.
+“Such a lovely, beautiful baby.”
+
+Margaretta made an effort to control herself, and resolutely wiped away
+the tears pouring down her face. “Grandma,” she uttered, brokenly,
+“would you like us to sing to you?”
+
+Grandma slightly turned her head. She seemed to be listening to
+something beyond them. Then she said, slowly, “My dears, I never
+fancied going out of this world to the sound of earthly music. There
+are strange and exquisite harmonies from another world floating in my
+ears. Hark, children--I hear it now plainly. I am nearing the sea.”
+
+“Grandma, darling,” said Margaretta, in distress, “we are many miles
+from the sea.”
+
+“It is the sea,” murmured the dying woman, and a triumphant smile broke
+over her face, “the sea of glass near the great white throne--and
+there is a new sound now. Ah, children!” and, raising herself on her
+cushions, a very flame of unearthly and exquisite anticipation swept
+over her face, “the new sound is from the harps of gold of them that
+stand beside the sea. They have gotten the victory, and they sing
+praises!”
+
+She sank back--with one joyful exclamation the breath left her body.
+
+Who could mourn for a death like that? Who would dare to grieve over
+the little worn-out body?
+
+Margaretta reverently stooped over, kissed the face so soon to grow
+cold, then, lightly draping a white wrap about it, she sat down and
+held out one hand to Berty, the other to her brother.
+
+Tom and Roger turned the boat’s head toward the city. Their hearts were
+full of grief, and yet, looking at the calm sky, the peaceful river,
+they knew that time would pass, their grief would grow chastened, in
+all probability there stretched before each occupant of that boat a
+useful and happy life.
+
+Grandma had not lived in vain. She had kept her family together, and
+while her children’s children lived, and their children, her memory
+would not be suffered to grow cold, neither would her good deeds be
+forgotten.
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
+
+
+The Little Colonel Stories. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
+
+    Being three “Little Colonel” stories in the Cosy Corner Series,
+    “The Little Colonel,” “Two Little Knights of Kentucky,” and
+    “The Giant Scissors,” put into a single volume, owing to the
+    popular demand for a uniform series of the stories dealing with
+    one of the most popular of juvenile heroines.
+
+    1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated $1.50
+
+The Little Colonel’s House Party. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
+Illustrated by Louis Meynell.
+
+    One vol., library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover $1.00
+
+The Little Colonel’s Holidays. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. Illustrated
+by L. J. Bridgman.
+
+    One vol., large 12mo, cloth, decorative cover $1.50
+
+The Little Colonel’s Hero. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. Illustrated by E.
+B. Barry.
+
+    One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, $1.20 _net_ (postage
+    extra)
+
+The Little Colonel at Boarding School. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
+Illustrated by E. B. Barry.
+
+    1 vol., large 12mo, cloth $1.20 _net_ (postage extra)
+
+Since the time of “Little Women,” no juvenile heroine has been better
+beloved of her child readers than Mrs. Johnston’s “Little Colonel.”
+Each succeeding book has been more popular than its predecessor, and
+now thousands of little readers wait patiently each year for the
+appearance of “the new Little Colonel Book.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Beautiful Joe’s Paradise; or, THE ISLAND OF BROTHERLY LOVE. A sequel to
+“Beautiful Joe.” By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of “Beautiful Joe,” “For
+His Country,” etc. With fifteen full-page plates and many decorations
+from drawings by Charles Livingston Bull.
+
+One vol., library 12mo, cloth decorative, $1.20 _net_, postpaid, $1.32
+
+“Will be immensely enjoyed by the boys and girls who read
+it.”--_Pittsburg Gazette._
+
+“Miss Saunders has put life, humor, action, and tenderness into her
+story. The book deserves to be a favorite.”--_Chicago Record-Herald._
+
+“This book revives the spirit of ‘Beautiful Joe’ capitally. It is
+fairly riotous with fun, and as a whole is about as unusual as anything
+in the animal book line that has seen the light. It is a book for
+juveniles--old and young.”--_Philadelphia Item._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+’Tilda Jane. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of “Beautiful Joe,” etc.
+
+One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth, decorative cover $1.50
+
+“No more amusing and attractive child’s story has appeared for a long
+time than this quaint and curious recital of the adventures of that
+pitiful and charming little runaway.”
+
+“It is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books that win
+and charm the reader, and I did not put it down until I had finished
+it--honest! And I am sure that every one, young or old, who reads will
+be proud and happy to make the acquaintance of the delicious waif.
+
+“I cannot think of any better book for children than this. I commend it
+unreservedly.”--_Cyrus Townsend Brady._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Story of the Graveleys. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of “Beautiful
+Joe’s Paradise,” “’Tilda Jane,” etc.
+
+Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by E. B. Barry $1.20 _net_
+(postage extra)
+
+Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and triumphs, of a
+delightful New England family, of whose devotion and sturdiness it will
+do the reader good to hear. From the kindly, serene-souled grandmother
+to the buoyant madcap, Berty, these Graveleys are folk of fibre and
+blood--genuine human beings.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Little Lady Marjorie. By FRANCES MARGARET FOX, author of “Farmer Brown
+and the Birds,” etc.
+
+12mo, cloth, illustrated $1.20 _net_ (postage extra)
+
+A charming story for children between the ages of ten and fifteen
+years, with both heart and nature interest.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Sandman: HIS FARM STORIES. By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS. With fifty
+illustrations by Ada Clendenin Williamson.
+
+One vol., large 12mo, decorative cover, $1.20 _net_, postpaid, $1.38
+
+    “An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of children
+    not more than six years old, is ‘The Sandman: His Farm
+    Stories.’ It should be one of the most popular of the year’s
+    books for reading to small children.”--_Buffalo Express._
+
+    “Mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who take the little
+    ones to bed and rack their brains for stories will find this
+    book a treasure.”--_Cleveland Leader._
+
+The Sandman: MORE FARM STORIES. By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS, author of “The
+Sandman: His Farm Stories.”
+
+Library 12mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated, $1.20 _net_ (postage
+extra)
+
+    Mr. Hopkins’s first essay at bedtime stories has met with
+    such approval that this second book of “Sandman” tales has
+    been issued for scores of eager children. Life on the farm,
+    and out-of-doors, will be portrayed in his inimitable manner,
+    and many a little one will hail the bedtime season as one of
+    delight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A Puritan Knight Errant. By EDITH ROBINSON, author of “A Little Puritan
+Pioneer,” “A Little Puritan’s First Christmas,” “A Little Puritan
+Rebel,” etc.
+
+Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, $1.20 _net_ (postage extra)
+
+The charm of style and historical value of Miss Robinson’s previous
+stories of child life in Puritan days have brought them wide
+popularity. Her latest and most important book appeals to a large
+juvenile public. The “knight errant” of this story is a little Don
+Quixote, whose trials and their ultimate outcome will prove deeply
+interesting to their reader.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Great Scoop. By MOLLY ELLIOT SEAWELL, author of “Little Jarvis,”
+“Laurie Vane,” etc.
+
+12mo, cloth, with illustrations $1.00
+
+A capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of a bright,
+enterprising, likable youngster employed therein. Every boy with an
+ounce of true boyish blood in him will have the time of his life in
+reading how Dick Henshaw entered the newspaper business, and how he
+secured “the great scoop.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Flip’s “Islands of Providence.” By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON, author of
+“Asa Holmes,” “The Little Colonel,” etc.
+
+12mo, cloth, with illustrations $1.00
+
+In this book the author of “The Little Colonel” and her girl friends
+and companions shows that she is equally at home in telling a tale in
+which the leading character is a boy, and in describing his troubles
+and triumphs in a way that will enhance her reputation as a skilled and
+sympathetic writer of stories for children.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Songs and Rhymes for the Little Ones. Compiled by MARY WHITNEY MORRISON
+(Jenny Wallis).
+
+New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T. Whitney and eight
+illustrations.
+
+One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative $1.00
+
+No better description of this admirable book can be given than Mrs.
+Whitney’s happy introduction:
+
+“One might almost as well offer June roses with the assurance of
+their sweetness, as to present this lovely little gathering of verse,
+which announces itself, like them, by its deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs.
+Morrison’s charming volume has long been a delight to me, I am only too
+happy to link my name with its new and enriched form in this slight
+way, and simply declare that it is to me the most bewitching book of
+songs for little people that I have ever known.”
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+PHYLLIS’ FIELD FRIENDS SERIES
+
+_By LENORE E. MULETS_
+
+Four vols., cloth decorative, illustrated. Sold separately, or as a set.
+
+    Per volume      $0.80 _net_
+    Per set         $3.20 _net_
+
+    1. Insect Stories.
+    2. Stories of Little Animals.
+    3. Flower Stories.
+    4. Bird Stories.
+
+In this series of four little Nature books, it is the author’s
+intention so to present to the child reader the facts about each
+particular flower, insect, bird, or animal, in story form, as to make
+delightful reading of the facts of science, which the child is to
+verify through his field lessons and experiences. Classical legends,
+myths, poems and songs are so presented as to correlate fully with
+these lessons, to which the excellent illustrations are no little help.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE WOODRANGER TALES
+
+_By G. WALDO BROWNE_
+
+    The Woodranger.
+    The Young Gunbearer.
+    The Hero of the Hills.
+
+Each 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, decorative cover, illustrated, per
+volume $1.00
+
+Three vols., boxed, per set $3.00
+
+“The Woodranger Tales,” like the “Pathfinder Tales” of J. Fenimore
+Cooper, combine historical information relating to early pioneer days
+in America with interesting adventures in the backwoods. Although the
+same characters are continued throughout the series, each book is
+complete in itself, and while based strictly on historical facts, is an
+interesting and exciting tale of adventure which will delight all boys
+and be by no means unwelcome to their elders.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Rosamond Tales. By CUYLER REYNOLDS. With 30 full-page illustrations
+from original photographs, and with a frontispiece from a drawing by
+Maud Humphreys.
+
+One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50
+
+These are just the bedtime stories that children always ask for, but do
+not always get. Rosamond and Rosalind are the hero and heroine of many
+happy adventures in town and on their grandfather’s farm; and the happy
+listeners to their story will unconsciously absorb a vast amount of
+interesting knowledge of birds, animals, and flowers. The book will be
+a boon to tired mothers, and a delight to wide-awake children.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Larry Hudson’s Ambition. By JAMES OTIS, author of “Toby Tyler,” etc.
+Illustrated by Eliot Keen.
+
+One vol., library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover, $1.25
+
+James Otis, who has delighted the juvenile public with so many popular
+stories, has written the story of the rise of the bootblack Larry.
+Larry is not only capable of holding his own and coming out with flying
+colors in the amusing adventures wherein he befriends the family of
+good Deacon Doak; he also has the signal ability to know what he wants
+and to understand that hard work is necessary to win.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Black Beauty: THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HORSE. By ANNA SEWELL. _New
+Illustrated Edition._ With nineteen full-page drawings by Winifred
+Austin.
+
+One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, $1.25
+
+There have been many editions of this classic, but we confidently
+offer this one as the most appropriate and handsome yet produced. The
+illustrations are of special value and beauty. Miss Austin is a lover
+of horses, and has delighted in tracing with her pen the beauty and
+grace of the noble animal.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Story of Kate. A TALE OF CALIFORNIA LIFE FOR GIRLS. By PAULINE
+BRADFORD MACKIE. Illustrations by L. J. Bridgman.
+
+One vol., library 12mo, cloth, $1.20 _net_, postpaid, $1.32
+
+“One of the most charming books of the season for girls, is this, with
+its lovable characters and entertaining adventures.”--_Albany Times
+Union._
+
+“Pauline Bradford Mackie’s new story is one of genuine delight, and
+scarcely a better volume could be purchased for girls.”--_Boston
+Journal._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ye Lyttle Salem Maide: A STORY OF WITCHCRAFT. By PAULINE BRADFORD
+MACKIE. _New Illustrated Edition._
+
+One vol., large 12mo, cloth, gilt top $1.50
+
+“The beauty of the story lies in its simplicity and pathos mingled with
+the lighter vein of humor.”--_Toledo Blade._
+
+“No one can read the story without being profoundly
+stirred.”--_Baltimore Herald._
+
+“Full of color and fine feeling.”--_Albany Argus._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In Kings’ Houses: A TALE OF THE DAYS OF QUEEN ANNE. By JULIA C. R.
+DORR. _New Illustrated Edition._
+
+One vol., large 12mo, cloth, gilt top $1.50
+
+“We close the book with a wish that the author may write more of the
+history of England, which she knows so well.”--_Bookman, New York._
+
+“A story with a charm that will hardly be withstood.”--_Kansas City
+Times._
+
+“A fine, strong story which it is a relief to come upon. Related with
+charming simple art.”--_Public Ledger, Philadelphia._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Gulliver’s Bird Book. BEING THE NEWLY DISCOVERED STRANGE ADVENTURES OF
+LEMUEL GULLIVER, NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME DESCRIBED AND ILLUSTRATED. By
+L. J. BRIDGMAN, author of “Mother Goose and Her Wild Beast Show,” etc.
+
+With upwards of 100 illustrations in color, large quarto, cloth $1.50
+
+This is a most amusing and original book, illustrated with startlingly
+odd and clever drawings. “Gulliver’s Bird Book” will prove a source
+of entertainment to children of all ages, and should prove one of the
+leading color juveniles of the season.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES
+
+The most delightful and interesting accounts possible of child-life in
+other lands, filled with quaint sayings doings, and adventures.
+
+Each 1 vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six full-page
+illustrations in color by L. J. Bridgman.
+
+Price per volume $0.50 _net_, postpaid $0.56
+
+“Juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and instruction out of
+Mary Hazelton Wade’s Little Cousin Series. … Pleasing narratives give
+pictures of the little folk in the far-away lands in their duties and
+pleasures, showing their odd ways of playing, studying, their queer
+homes, clothes, and playthings. … The style of the stories is all that
+can be desired for entertainment, the author describing things in a
+very real and delightful fashion.”--_Detroit News-Tribune._
+
+_By MARY HAZELTON WADE_
+
+    Our Little Swiss Cousin.
+    Our Little Norwegian Cousin.
+    Our Little Italian Cousin.
+    Our Little Siamese Cousin.
+    Our Little Cuban Cousin.
+    Our Little Hawaiian Cousin.
+    Our Little Eskimo Cousin.
+    Our Little Philippine Cousin.
+    Our Little Porto Rican Cousin.
+    Our Little African Cousin.
+    Our Little Japanese Cousin.
+    Our Little Brown Cousin.
+    Our Little Indian Cousin.
+    Our Little Russian Cousin.
+
+_By ISAAC HEADLAND TAYLOR_
+
+    Our Little Chinese Cousin.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+COSY CORNER SERIES
+
+It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall contain
+only the very highest and purest literature,--stories that shall not
+only appeal to the children themselves, but be appreciated by all those
+who feel with them in their joys and sorrows,--stories that shall be
+most particularly adapted for reading aloud in the family circle.
+
+The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known artists, and
+each volume has a separate attractive cover design.
+
+Each, 1 vol., 16mo, cloth $0.50
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_
+
+The Little Colonel.
+
+    The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a
+    small girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of
+    her fancied resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman,
+    whose fine estate and old family are famous in the region. This
+    old Colonel proves to be the grandfather of the child.
+
+The Giant Scissors.
+
+    This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in
+    France,--the wonderful house with the gate of The Giant
+    Scissors, Jules, her little playmate, Sister Denisa, the cruel
+    Brossard, and her dear Aunt Kate. Joyce is a great friend of
+    the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with her the
+    delightful experiences of the “House Party” and the “Holidays.”
+
+Two Little Knights of Kentucky, WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL’S NEIGHBORS.
+
+    In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old
+    friend, but with added grace and charm. She is not, however,
+    the central figure of the story, that place being taken by the
+    “two little knights.”
+
+Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.
+
+    The readers of Mrs. Johnston’s charming juveniles will be glad
+    to learn of the issue of this volume for young people, written
+    in the author’s sympathetic and entertaining manner.
+
+Aunt ’Liza’s Hero and Other Stories.
+
+    A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to
+    all boys and most girls.
+
+Big Brother.
+
+    A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, himself
+    a small boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple
+    tale, the pathos and beauty of which has appealed to so many
+    thousands.
+
+Ole Mammy’s Torment.
+
+    “Ole Mammy’s Torment” has been fitly called “a classic of
+    Southern life.” It relates the haps and mishaps of a small
+    negro lad, and tells how he was led by love and kindness to a
+    knowledge of the right.
+
+The Story of Dago.
+
+    In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a
+    pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his
+    own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps is both
+    interesting and amusing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_By EDITH ROBINSON_
+
+A Little Puritan’s First Christmas.
+
+    A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was
+    invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans,
+    aided by her brother Sam.
+
+A Little Daughter of Liberty.
+
+    The author’s motive for this story is well indicated by a
+    quotation from her introduction, as follows:
+
+    “One ride is memorable in the early history of the American
+    Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally
+    deserving of commendation is another ride,--untold in verse or
+    story, its records preserved only in family papers or shadowy
+    legend, the ride of Anthony Severn was no less historic in its
+    action or memorable in its consequences.”
+
+A Loyal Little Maid.
+
+    A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in
+    which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important
+    services to George Washington.
+
+A Little Puritan Rebel.
+
+    Like Miss Robinson’s successful story of “A Loyal Little Maid,”
+    this is another historical tale of a real girl, during the time
+    when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.
+
+A Little Puritan Pioneer.
+
+    The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at
+    Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds another to the list
+    of favorites so well known to the young people.
+
+A Little Puritan Bound Girl.
+
+    A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest
+    to youthful readers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_By OUIDA (Louise de la Ramée)_
+
+A Dog of Flanders: A CHRISTMAS STORY.
+
+    Too well and favorably known to require description.
+
+The Nürnberg Stove.
+
+    This beautiful story has never before been published at a
+    popular price.
+
+A Provence Rose.
+
+    A story perfect in sweetness and in grace.
+
+Findelkind.
+
+    A charming story about a little Swiss herdsman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_By MISS MULOCK_
+
+The Little Lame Prince.
+
+    A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by
+    means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.
+
+Adventures of a Brownie.
+
+    The story of a household elf who torments the cook and
+    gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the children who
+    love and trust him.
+
+His Little Mother.
+
+    Miss Mulock’s short stories for children are a constant source
+    of delight to them, and “His Little Mother,” in this new and
+    attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers.
+
+Little Sunshine’s Holiday.
+
+    An attractive story of a summer outing. “Little Sunshine” is
+    another of those beautiful child-characters for which Miss
+    Mulock is so justly famous.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_By JULIANA HORATIA EWING_
+
+Jackanapes.
+
+    A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite and
+    touching story, dear alike to young and old.
+
+Story of a Short Life.
+
+    This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. It is a
+    part of the world’s literature, and will never die.
+
+A Great Emergency.
+
+    How a family of children prepared for a great emergency, and
+    how they acted when the emergency came.
+
+The Trinity Flower.
+
+    In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. Ewing’s best
+    short stories for the young people.
+
+Madam Liberality.
+
+    From her cradle up Madam Liberality found her chief delight in
+    giving.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_By FRANCES MARGARET FOX_
+
+The Little Giant’s Neighbours.
+
+    A charming nature story of a “little giant” whose neighbours
+    were the creatures of the field and garden.
+
+Farmer Brown and the Birds.
+
+    A little story which teaches children that the birds are man’s
+    best friends.
+
+Betty of Old Mackinaw.
+
+    A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the
+    little readers who like stories of “real people.”
+
+Mother Nature’s Little Ones.
+
+    Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or
+    “childhood,” of the little creatures out-of-doors.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE_
+
+The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow.
+
+    This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will
+    appeal to all that is best in the natures of the many admirers
+    of her graceful and piquant style.
+
+The Fortunes of the Fellow.
+
+    Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of “The
+    Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow” will welcome the further account
+    of the “Adventures of Baydaw and the Fellow” at the home of the
+    kindly smith among the Green Hills of Tennessee.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_By FRANCES HODGES WHITE_
+
+Helena’s Wonderworld.
+
+    A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in the
+    mysterious regions beneath the sea.
+
+Aunt Nabby’s Children.
+
+    This pretty little story, touched with the simple humor of
+    country life, tells of two children, who, adopted by Aunt
+    Nabby, have also won their way into the affections of the
+    village squire.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_By CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT_
+
+The Prince of the Pin Elves.
+
+    A fascinating story of the underground adventures of a sturdy,
+    reliant American boy among the elves and gnomes.
+
+The Water People.
+
+    A companion volume and in a way a sequel to “The Prince of the
+    Pin Elves,” relating the adventures of “Harry” among the “water
+    people.” While it has the same characters as the previous book,
+    the story is complete in itself.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_By OTHER AUTHORS_
+
+The Flight of Rosy Dawn. By PAULINE BRADFORD MACKIE.
+
+    The Christmas of little Wong Jan, or “Rosy Dawn,” a young
+    Celestial of San Francisco, is the theme of this pleasant
+    little story.
+
+Susanne. By FRANCES J. DELANO.
+
+    This little story will recall in sweetness and appealing charm
+    the work of Kate Douglas Wiggin and Laura E. Richards.
+
+Millicent in Dreamland. By EDNA S. BRAINERD.
+
+    The quaintness and fantastic character of Millicent’s
+    adventures in Dreamland have much of the fascination of “Alice
+    in Wonderland,” and all small readers of “Alice” will enjoy
+    making Millicent’s acquaintance.
+
+Jerry’s Reward. By EVELYN SNEAD BARNETT.
+
+    This is an interesting and wholesome little story of the change
+    that came over the thoughtless imps on Jefferson Square when
+    they learned to know the stout-hearted Jerry and his faithful
+    Peggy.
+
+A Bad Penny. By JOHN T. WHEELWRIGHT.
+
+    No boy should omit reading this vivid story of the New England
+    of 1812.
+
+Gatty and I. By FRANCES E. CROMPTON.
+
+    The small hero and heroine of this little story are twins,
+    “strictly brought up.” It is a sweet and wholesome little story.
+
+Prince Yellowtop. By KATE WHITING PATCH.
+
+    A pretty little fairy tale.
+
+The Little Christmas Shoe. By JANE P. SCOTT-WOODRUFF.
+
+    A touching story of Yule-tide.
+
+The Little Professor. By IDA HORTON CASH.
+
+    A quaint tale of a quaint little girl.
+
+The Seventh Daughter. By GRACE WICKHAM CURRAN.
+
+    One of the best stories for little girls that has been
+    published for a long time.
+
+The Making of Zimri Bunker: A TALE OF NANTUCKET. By W. J. LONG, Ph. D.
+
+    This is a charming story of Nantucket folk by a young clergyman
+    who is already well known through his contributions to the
+    _Youth’s Companion_, _St. Nicholas_, and other well-known
+    magazines. The story deals with a sturdy American fisher lad,
+    during the war of 1812.
+
+The King of the Golden River: A LEGEND OF STIRIA. By JOHN RUSKIN.
+
+    Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally intended
+    for publication, this little fairy tale soon became known and
+    made a place for itself.
+
+Little Peterkin Vandike. By CHARLES STUART PRATT.
+
+    The author’s dedication furnishes a key to this charming story:
+
+    “I dedicate this book, made for the amusement (and perchance
+    instruction) of the boys who may read it, to the memory of one
+    boy, who would have enjoyed as much as Peterkin the plays of
+    the Poetry Party, but who has now marched out of the ranks of
+    boyhood.”
+
+Rab and His Friends. By Dr. JOHN BROWN.
+
+    Doctor Brown’s little masterpiece is too well known to need
+    description. The dog Rab is loved by all.
+
+The Adventures of Beatrice and Jessie. By RICHARD MANSFIELD.
+
+    The story of two little girls who were suddenly transplanted
+    into the “realms of unreality,” where they met with many
+    curious and amusing adventures.
+
+A Child’s Garden of Verses. By R. L. STEVENSON.
+
+    Mr. Stevenson’s little volume is too well known to need
+    description. It will be heartily welcomed in this new and
+    attractive edition.
+
+Little King Davie. By NELLIE HELLIS.
+
+    The story of a little crossing-sweeper, that will make many
+    boys thankful they are not in the same position. Davie’s
+    accident, hospital experiences, conversion, and subsequent
+    life, are of thrilling interest.
+
+The Sleeping Beauty. A MODERN VERSION. By MARTHA B. DUNN.
+
+    This charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine,
+    intellectually “asleep” until she meets the “Fairy Prince,”
+    reminds us of “Ouida” at her best.
+
+The Young Archer. By CHARLES E. BRIMBLECOM.
+
+    A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied Columbus
+    on his voyage to the New World. His loyalty and services
+    through vicissitudes and dangers endeared him to the great
+    discoverer, and the account of his exploits will be interesting
+    to all boys.
+
+The Fairy of the Rhône. By A. COMYNS CARR.
+
+    Here is a fairy story indeed, one of old-fashioned pure
+    delight. It is most gracefully told, and accompanied by
+    charming illustrations.
+
+A Small Small Child. By E. LIVINGSTON PRESCOTT.
+
+    “A Small Small Child” is a moving little tale of sweet
+    influence, more powerful than threats or punishments, upon a
+    rowdy of the barracks.
+
+Peggy’s Trial. By MARY KNIGHT POTTER.
+
+    Peggy is an impulsive little woman of ten, whose rebellion from
+    a mistaken notion of loyalty, and her subsequent reconciliation
+    to the dreaded “new mother,” are most interestingly told.
+
+For His Country. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of “Beautiful Joe,” etc.
+
+    A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his
+    country; written with that charm which has endeared Miss
+    Saunders to hosts of readers.
+
+La Belle Nivernaise. THE STORY OF AN OLD BOAT AND HER CREW. By ALPHONSE
+DAUDET.
+
+    All who have read it will be glad to welcome an old favorite,
+    and new readers will be happy to have it brought to their
+    friendly attention.
+
+Wee Dorothy. By LAURA UPDEGRAFF.
+
+    A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion of the
+    eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and setting.
+    With a bit of sadness at the beginning, the story is otherwise
+    bright and sunny, and altogether wholesome in every way.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 53675-0.txt or 53675-0.zip *******
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+<body>
+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Story of the Gravelys, by Marshall
+Saunders</h1>
+<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
+and most other parts of the world 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 <a
+href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>.  If you are not
+located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the
+country where you are located before using this ebook.</p>
+<p>Title: The Story of the Gravelys</p>
+<p>       A Tale for Girls</p>
+<p>Author: Marshall Saunders</p>
+<p>Release Date: December 6, 2016  [eBook #53675]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by David Edwards<br />
+    and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br />
+    from page images generously made available by<br />
+    Internet Archive<br />
+    (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto; max-width: 100%;" cellpadding="10">
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive. See
+      <a href="https://archive.org/details/storyofgravelyst00saunuoft">
+      https://archive.org/details/storyofgravelyst00saunuoft</a>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center larger">THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="450" height="700" alt="Book cover image" />
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="bbox">
+
+<p class="center">Works of<br />
+Marshall Saunders</p>
+
+<table summary="List of books and prices">
+  <tr>
+    <td>Beautiful Joe’s Paradise.</td>
+    <td class="tdr">Net $1.20</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td class="tdr">Postpaid $1.32</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>The Story of the Gravelys.</td>
+    <td class="tdr">Net $1.20</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td class="tdr">Postpaid $1.35</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>’Tilda Jane.</td>
+    <td class="tdr">$1.50</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>Rose à Charlitte.</td>
+    <td class="tdr">$1.50</td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td>For His Country.</td>
+    <td class="tdr">$&nbsp;.50</td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p class="center">L. C. PAGE &amp; COMPANY<br />
+New England Building, Boston, Mass.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 460px;" id="illus1">
+<img src="images/illus1.jpg" width="460" height="515" alt="" />
+<p class="caption">“BENT THEIR HEADS OVER THE PAPER”</p>
+<p class="smaller right">(<i>See <a href="#Page_40">page 40</a></i>)</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="bbox-double">
+
+<p class="center larger">THE STORY OF<br />
+THE GRAVELYS</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Tale for Girls</i></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox-double">
+
+<p class="center">By<br />
+Marshall Saunders</p>
+
+<p class="center">Author of<br />
+“Beautiful Joe,” “Beautiful Joe’s Paradise,”<br />
+“’Tilda Jane,” etc.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox-double">
+
+<p class="center smaller">“A child’s needless tear is a blood-blot upon this earth.”</p>
+
+<p class="right smaller">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Cardinal Manning</span></p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox-double">
+
+<p class="center"><i>Illustrated</i></p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="Publisher’s mark. Motto: SPE LABOR LEVIS" />
+</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="bbox-double">
+
+<p class="center">Boston<br />
+L. C. Page &amp; Company<br />
+1904</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage smaller"><i>Copyright, 1902, 1903</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">By Perry Mason Company</span></p>
+
+<p class="center smaller"><i>Copyright, 1903</i><br />
+<span class="smcap">By L. C. Page &amp; Company</span><br />
+(INCORPORATED)</p>
+
+<p class="center smaller"><i>All rights reserved</i></p>
+
+<p class="titlepage smaller">Published September, 1903</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage smaller">Colonial Press<br />
+Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds &amp; Co.<br />
+Boston, Mass., U. S. A.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center">TO<br />
+MY DEAR SISTER<br />
+<span class="larger">Grace,</span><br />
+MY FAITHFUL HELPER IN LITERARY WORK,<br />
+THIS STORY IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED<br />
+BY HER APPRECIATIVE SISTER,<br />
+<span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>ACKNOWLEDGMENT</h2>
+
+<p>Certain chapters of this story first appeared in
+The <cite>Youth’s Companion</cite>. The author wishes to
+acknowledge the courtesy of the editors in permitting
+her to republish them in the present volume.</p>
+
+<p>Messrs. L. C. Page and Company wish also to
+acknowledge the courtesy of the editors in granting
+them permission to use the original illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table summary="Contents">
+  <tr>
+    <th>CHAPTER</th>
+    <th></th>
+    <th>PAGE</th>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">I.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Quarrel</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">11</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">II.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Grandma’s Watchword</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">23</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">III.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">A Sudden Countermarch</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">34</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">IV.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">A Lifted Burden</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">43</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">V.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Training of a Boy</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">54</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">VI.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Bonny’s Ordeal</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">68</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">VII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Berty Imparts Information</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">76</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">VIII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Heart of the Mayor</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">88</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">IX.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Mayor’s Dilemma</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">99</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">X.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">A Groundless Suspicion</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">113</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XI.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">A Proposed Supper-Party</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">130</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">A Disturbed Hostess</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">139</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XIII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">An Anxious Mind</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">150</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XIV.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">The Opening of the Park</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">162</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XV.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Up the River</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">175</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XVI.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Berty’s Tramp</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">188</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XVII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Tom’s Intervention</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">195</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XVIII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Tramp Philosophy</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">204</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XIX.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">At the Board of Water-Works</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">217</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XX.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Selina’s Wedding</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">229</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XXI.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">To Strike or Not to Strike</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">244</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XXII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Discouraged</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">257</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XXIII.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Grandma’s Request</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">262</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XXIV.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Down the River</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">270</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="tdr">XXV.</td>
+    <td><span class="smcap">Last Words</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">277</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<table summary="List of illustrations">
+  <tr>
+    <th></th>
+    <th>PAGE</th>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">“Bent their heads over the paper”</span> (<i>see <a href="#Page_40">page 40</a></i>)</td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus1"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">“Leaning over the stair railing”</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus2">33</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">“‘Why don’t some of you good people try to reform me?’”</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus3">54</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">“‘You have too much heart’”</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus4">92</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">“‘You’re dying to tease me’”</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus5">177</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td><span class="smcap">“‘A River Street delegation,’ said Tom”</span></td>
+    <td class="tdr"><a href="#illus6">235</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1>THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS</h1>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br />
+<span class="smaller">THE QUARREL</span></h2>
+
+<p>“I won’t live on my brother-in-law,” said the
+slight, dark girl.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, you will,” said the fair-haired beauty, her
+sister, who was standing over her in a somewhat
+theatrical attitude.</p>
+
+<p>“I will not,” said Berty again. “You think
+because you have just been married you are going
+to run the family. I tell you, I will not do it.
+I will not live with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want to run the family, but I am a
+year and a half older than you, and I know what
+is for your good better than you do.”</p>
+
+<p>“You do not&mdash;you butterfly!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Alberta Mary Francesca Gravely&mdash;you ought
+to be ashamed of yourself,” said the beauty, in
+concentrated wrath.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not ashamed of myself,” replied her sister,
+scornfully. “I’m ashamed of you. You’re just
+as extravagant as you can be. You spend every
+cent of your husband’s income, and now you want
+to saddle him with a big boy, a girl, and an&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“An old lady,” said Margaretta.</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma isn’t old. She’s only sixty-five.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sixty-five is old.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, now, can you call her young?” said
+Margaretta. “Can you say she is a girl?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” replied Berty, obstinately, “I can call
+her a girl, or a duck, or anything I like, and I
+can call you a goose.”</p>
+
+<p>“A goose!” repeated Mrs. Stanisfield, chokingly;
+“oh, this is too much. I wish my husband were
+here.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wish he were,” said Berty, wickedly, “so
+he could be sorry he mar&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Children,” said a sudden voice, “what are you
+quarrelling about?”</p>
+
+<p>Both girls turned their flushed faces toward the
+doorway. A little shrewd old lady stood there.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+This was Grandma, one of their bones of contention,
+and this particular bone in deep amusement
+wanted to laugh, but knew better than to do so.</p>
+
+<p>“Won’t you sit down, Margaretta?” she said,
+calmly coming into the room and taking a chair
+near Berty, who was lounging provokingly on
+the foot of the bed.</p>
+
+<p>It was Grandma’s bed, and they were in Grandma’s
+room. She had brought them up&mdash;her two dear
+orphan granddaughters, together with their brother
+Boniface.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you quarrelling about?” repeated the
+little old lady, taking a silk stocking from her
+pocket, and beginning to knit in a leisurely way.</p>
+
+<p>“We’re quarrelling about keeping the family together,”
+said Margaretta, vehemently, “and I find
+that family honour is nothing but a rag in Berty’s
+estimation.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’d rather have it a nice clean rag put
+out of sight,” said Berty, sharply, “than a great,
+big, red flag shaken in everybody’s face.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sit down, Margaretta,” said Grandma, soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I am too angry to sit down,” said Margaretta,
+shaking herself slightly. “I got your note<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
+saying you had lost your money. I came to sympathize
+and was met with insults. It’s dreadful!”</p>
+
+<p>“Sit down, dear,” said Grandma, gently, pushing
+a rocking-chair toward her.</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta took the chair, and, wiping her white
+forehead with a morsel of lace and muslin, glared
+angrily at her sister.</p>
+
+<p>“Roger says,” she went on, excitedly, “that
+you are all&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“All!” groaned Berty.</p>
+
+<p>“All,” repeated Margaretta, furiously, “or one
+or two, whichever you like, to come and live with
+us. He insists.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, <em>you</em> insist,” interrupted Berty. “He has
+too much sense.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta gave a low cry. “Isn’t this ingratitude
+abominable&mdash;I hear of your misfortune, I
+come flying to your relief&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Dear child,” said Grandma, “I knew you’d
+come.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what do you make of Berty, Grandma?
+Do say something cutting. You could if you tried.
+The trouble is, you don’t try.”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma tried not to laugh. She, too, had a tiny
+handkerchief that she pressed against her face,
+but the merriment would break through.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“You laugh,” said Margaretta, in awe, “and
+you have just lost every cent you own!”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma recovered herself. “Thank fortune, I
+never chained my affections to a house and furniture
+and a bank-account.”</p>
+
+<p>“Roger says you are the bravest woman he ever
+saw,” murmured Margaretta.</p>
+
+<p>“Did he say that?” replied Grandma, with
+twinkling eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes, dear Grandma,” said Margaretta,
+fondly, “and he told me to offer you all a home
+with us.”</p>
+
+<p>The little old lady smiled again, and this time
+there was a dimple in her cheek. “What a dear
+grandson-in-law! What a good man!”</p>
+
+<p>“He is just perfection,” said Margaretta, enthusiastically,
+“but, Grandma, darling, tell me your
+plans! I am just dying to know, and Berty has
+been so provoking.”</p>
+
+<p>“Berty is the mainstay of the family now,” said
+Grandma, good-naturedly; “don’t abuse her.”</p>
+
+<p>“The mainstay!” repeated Margaretta, with a
+bewildered air; “oh, yes, I see. You mean that
+the little annuity left her by our great-aunt, your
+sister, is all that you have to depend on.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Just those few hundred dollars,” said Grandma,
+tranquilly, “and a little more.”</p>
+
+<p>“That is why she is so toploftical,” said Margaretta.
+“However, it is well that she was named
+for great-aunt Alberta&mdash;but, Grandma, dear, don’t
+knit.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is so prosaic, after all you have gone through,”
+said Margaretta. “When I think of your trials,
+it makes me sick.”</p>
+
+<p>“My trials are nothing to what Job had,” remarked
+her grandmother. “I read of his tribulations
+and they make mine seem very insignificant.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Grandma, you have had about as many
+as Job.”</p>
+
+<p>“What have I had?” asked the old lady, softly.</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta made a gesture of despair. “Your
+mother died at your birth.”</p>
+
+<p>“The Lord took her,” said the old lady, gently,
+“and when I needed a mother he sent me a good
+stepmother.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your father perished in a burning hotel,” said
+the girl, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>“And went to heaven in a chariot of fire,” replied
+Grandma, firmly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“You married and were happy with your husband.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, bless the Lord!”</p>
+
+<p>“But your daughter, our mother, kissed you good-bye
+one day to go on a pleasure excursion with her
+husband, and never came back&mdash;oh, it breaks my
+heart to think of that day&mdash;my father and mother
+lost, both at once!” and, dropping miserably on
+her knees, Margaretta hid her face in her grandmother’s
+lap.</p>
+
+<p>The old lady’s lip trembled, but she said, steadily,
+“The Lord giveth&mdash;He also taketh away.”</p>
+
+<p>“And now,” said Margaretta, falteringly, “you
+are not old, but you have come to an age when you
+are beginning to think about getting old, and you
+have lost everything&mdash;everything.”</p>
+
+<p>“All save the greatest thing in the world,” said
+Grandma, patting the bowed head.</p>
+
+<p>“You always had that,” exclaimed Margaretta,
+lifting her tear-stained face. “Everybody has loved
+you since you were born&mdash;how could any one help
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>“If everybody loves me, why is it?” inquired
+Grandma, guilelessly, as she again took up her knitting.</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta wrinkled her fair brows. “I don’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+know&mdash;I guess it is because you don’t talk much,
+and you seem to like every one, and you don’t
+contradict. You’re exceedingly canny, Grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“Canny, child?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, canny. I don’t know what the Scottish
+people mean by it, but I mean clever, and shrewd,
+and smart, and quiet, and you keep out of scrapes.
+Now, when I’m with that provoking creature there,”
+and she looked disdainfully at Berty, “I feel as
+if I were a fifty-cornered sort of person. <em>You</em>
+make me feel as if I were round, and smooth, and
+easy to get on with.”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma picked up a dropped stitch and said
+nothing.</p>
+
+<p>“If you’d talk more, I’d like it better,” said
+Margaretta, dolefully, “but I dare say I should
+not get on so well with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Women do talk too much,” said Grandma,
+shortly; “we thresh everything out with our
+tongues.”</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma, dear, what are you going to do?”
+asked Margaretta, coaxingly. “Do tell me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Keep the family together,” said Grandma, serenely.</p>
+
+<p>“The old cry,” exclaimed Margaretta. “I’ve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
+heard that ever since I was born. What makes
+you say it so much?”</p>
+
+<p>“Shall I tell you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes&mdash;it is a regular watchword with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“When my father found himself trapped in that
+burning building,” said Grandma, knitting a little
+more rapidly than before, “he looked down from
+his window into the street and saw a man that
+he knew. ‘Jefferson,’ he called out, ‘will you
+take a message to my wife?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘I’ll take fifty, sir,’ answered the man, in an
+agony.</p>
+
+<p>“My father was quite calm. ‘Then, Jefferson,’
+he went on, ‘tell my wife that I said “God bless
+her,” with my last breath, and that I want her
+to keep the family together. Mind, Jefferson, she
+is to keep the family together.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘I’ll tell her,’ said the man, and, groaning and
+dazed with the heat, he turned away. Now, that
+wife was my stepmother, but she did as her husband
+bade her. She kept the family together, in sickness
+and in health, in adversity and in prosperity.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta was crying nervously.</p>
+
+<p>“If you will compose yourself, I will go on,”
+said Grandma.</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta dried her tears.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Those four dying, living words were branded
+on my memory, and your mother was taught to
+lisp them with her earliest breath, though she was
+an only child. When she left me that sunny spring
+day to go on her long, last journey, she may have
+had a presentiment&mdash;I do not know&mdash;but I do
+know that as she pressed her blooming face to mine,
+she glanced at her three children playing on the
+grass, and whispered, lovingly, ‘Keep the family
+together.’”</p>
+
+<p>“And you did it,” cried Margaretta, flinging up
+her head, “you did it nobly. You have been father,
+mother, grandfather and grandmother to us. You
+are a darling.” And seizing the little, nimble hands
+busy with the stocking, she kissed them fervently.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma smiled at her, picked up her work, and
+went on, briskly: “Keep the family together, and
+you keep the clan together. Keep the clan together,
+and you keep the nation together. Foster national
+love and national pride, and you increase the brotherhood
+of man.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then the family is the rock on which the nation
+is built,” said Margaretta, her beautiful face a flood
+of colour.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I am a helping stone in the building of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
+a nation,” continued Margaretta. “I, only a young
+woman in a small city of this great Union?”</p>
+
+<p>“You are a wife,” said Grandma, composedly,
+“a young and inexperienced one, but still the head
+of a family.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta shivered. “What a responsibility&mdash;what
+kind of a wife am I?”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma maintained a discreet silence.</p>
+
+<p>“Berty says I am extravagant,” exclaimed Margaretta,
+with a gesture toward the bed.</p>
+
+<p>Again her grandmother said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>“Am I, Grandma, darling, am I?” asked the
+young woman, in a wheedling voice.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma’s lips trembled, and her dimple displayed
+itself again.</p>
+
+<p>“I am,” cried Margaretta, springing up and
+clasping her hands despairingly. “I spend all
+Roger gives me. We have no fortune back of us,
+only his excellent income from the iron works. If
+that were to fail, we should be ruined. I am a
+careless, poorly-turned stone in the foundation of
+this mighty nation. I must shape and strengthen
+myself, and, Grandma, dear, let me begin by helping
+you and Berty and Bonny. You will have to
+give up this house&mdash;oh, my darling Grandma,
+how can you&mdash;this handsome house that grandfather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+built for you? What will you do without
+your velvet carpets, and lace curtains, and palms
+and roses? Oh, you will come to me! I shall save
+enough to keep you, and I shall lose my reason
+if you don’t.”</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br />
+<span class="smaller">GRANDMA’S WATCHWORD</span></h2>
+
+<p>“See here,” said Grandma, feeling in her pocket.
+“Look at these telegrams.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta hastily ran her eye over them. “I
+don’t understand.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me explain,” said Grandma, softly.
+“Brother John sends regrets for loss&mdash;will guarantee
+so many hundreds a year. Brother Henry
+sympathizes deeply to the extent of a tenth of his
+income. Sister Mary and Sister Lucy will come
+to see me as soon as possible. Substantial financial
+aid to be reckoned on.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Grandma! Grandma!” said the girl, still
+only half-enlightened. “What do they mean?”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma smiled complacently. “You notice that
+not one of them offers me a home, though, Heaven
+knows, their homes are as wide as their hearts.
+They are not rich, not one is exceedingly rich, yet
+they all offer me a good part of their respective<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
+incomes. That is the outcome of ‘Keep the family
+together.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! oh! oh!” exclaimed Margaretta. “They
+know how you love us. They want you to keep
+up a home for us. They will support you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly,” said Grandma.</p>
+
+<p>“And will you take all that money?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, child, not all; some of it, though. I have
+helped them. I will do it again, if I can.”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t that lovely!” cried Margaretta. “It is
+almost worth while being unfortunate to call out
+such goodness as that. Now, Grandma, dear, let
+us talk seriously. You will have to give up this
+house.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is given up. My lawyer was here this morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Roger is coming this evening to see you&mdash;will
+you sell all the furniture?”</p>
+
+<p>“I shall have to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, dear! Well, you won’t need it with us.”</p>
+
+<p>“We cannot go to you, Margaretta,” said
+Grandma, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, why not?”</p>
+
+<p>“It would be too great a burden on Roger.”</p>
+
+<p>“Only three persons, Grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“Roger is a young man. He has lately started<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+housekeeping and family life. Let him work out
+his plans along his own lines. It will be better
+not to join households unless necessary.”</p>
+
+<p>“He just loves you, Grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I reciprocate, but I think it better not to
+amalgamate my quicksilver Berty with another
+stronger metal just now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where is she?” asked Margaretta, turning her
+head.</p>
+
+<p>“She slipped out some time ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“Roger gets on well with her, Grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know he does. By stronger metal, I meant
+you. Being the elder, you have rather absorbed
+Berty. She will develop more quickly alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you want to board?”</p>
+
+<p>“There are two kinds of life in America,” said
+Grandma, “boarding-house life and home-life.
+Boarding-house life vulgarizes, home life ennobles.
+As long as God gives me breath, I’ll keep house,
+if I have only three rooms to do it in.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Grandma, dear, you will have so little
+to keep house on. Wouldn’t it be better to go to
+some first-class boarding-house with just a few
+nice people?”</p>
+
+<p>“Who might be my dearest foes,” said Grandma,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+tranquilly. “I’ve rubbed shoulders with such people
+in hotels before now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma, you haven’t any enemies.”</p>
+
+<p>“Anybody that is worth anything has enemies.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Margaretta, with a sigh, “what
+are you going to do? You can’t afford to keep
+house in such style as this. You won’t want to
+go into a poor neighbourhood.”</p>
+
+<p>“Give me a house and I’ll make the neighbourhood,”
+said Grandma, decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>“You have already decided on one?” said her
+granddaughter, suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma smiled. “Not altogether decided.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t like your tone,” exclaimed Margaretta.
+“You have something dreadful to tell me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Berty was out this morning and found a large,
+old-fashioned house with big open fireplaces. From
+it we would have a fine view of the river.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell me where it is,” said Margaretta, brokenly.</p>
+
+<p>“It is where the first people of the town used to
+live when I was a girl.”</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t down by the fish-market&mdash;oh, don’t
+tell me that!”</p>
+
+<p>“Just a block away from it, dear.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Roger Stanisfield gave a subdued shriek.
+“This is Berty’s doing.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Her grandmother laid down her knitting. “Margaretta,
+imagine Berty in a fashionable boarding-house&mdash;in
+two rooms, for we could not afford to
+take more. Imagine the boarding-house keeper
+when Berty would come in trailing a lame dog
+or sick cat? The Lord has given me grace to put
+up with these things, and even to sympathize and
+admire, but I have had a large house and several
+servants.”</p>
+
+<p>“But some boarding-house people are agreeable,”
+moaned Margaretta.</p>
+
+<p>“Agreeable!&mdash;they are martyrs, but I am not
+going to help martyrize them.”</p>
+
+<p>“I quarrel with Berty,” murmured Margaretta,
+“but I always make up with her. She is my own
+dear sister.”</p>
+
+<p>“Keep the family together,” said Grandma,
+shrewdly, “and in order to keep it together let it
+sometimes drift apart.”</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma, you speak in riddles.”</p>
+
+<p>“Margaretta, you are too direct. I want Berty
+to stand alone for awhile. She has as much character
+as you.”</p>
+
+<p>“She has more,” sighed Margaretta. “She won’t
+mind a word I say&mdash;she looks just like you,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
+Grandma, dear. You like her better than you do
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps I do,” said the old lady, calmly. “Perhaps
+she needs it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you are going to let her drag you down
+to that awful neighbourhood.”</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t awful&mdash;a dose of River Street will be
+a fitting antidote to a somewhat enervating existence
+here on Grand Avenue.”</p>
+
+<p>“You want to make a philanthropist or a city
+missionary of my poor sister.”</p>
+
+<p>“She might do worse,” said Grandma, coolly.</p>
+
+<p>“But she won’t be one,” said Margaretta, desperately.
+“She is too self-centred. She is taken
+with the large house and the good view. She will
+be disgusted with the dirty people.”</p>
+
+<p>“We shall see,” said Grandma, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>“You will only take the house for a short time,
+of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shall probably stay there until eternity claims
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma!”</p>
+
+<p>“One little old woman in this big republic will
+not encourage home faithlessness,” said Grandma,
+firmly.</p>
+
+<p>“Dearest of grandmothers, what do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“How the old homes must suffer,” said
+Grandma, musingly. “Families are being reared
+within their walls, then suddenly the mother takes
+a caprice&mdash;we must move.”</p>
+
+<p>“But all houses are not equally convenient.”</p>
+
+<p>“Make them so,” said the little lady, emphatically.
+“Have some affection for your roof-tree, your
+hearthstone. Have one home, not a dozen. Let
+your children pin their memories to one place.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta fell into silence, and sat for a long
+time watching in fascination the quick, active fingers
+manipulating the silk stocking.</p>
+
+<p>“You are a wonderful woman,” she said, at
+last.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you really think so?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, yes,” said Margaretta, enthusiastically.
+“You let people find out things for themselves.
+Now I don’t believe in your heart of hearts you
+want to go to River Street.”</p>
+
+<p>For the first time a shade of sadness came over
+the face of the older woman. “Set not your affections
+on earthly things,” she said, “and yet I love
+my home&mdash;&mdash; However, it is all right, Margaretta.
+If the Lord sends me to River Street, I can go.
+If He tells me to love River Street, I shall make
+a point of doing so. If I feel that River Street<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+discipline is not necessary for me at my time of life,
+I shall console myself with the thought that it is
+necessary for Berty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Once,” said Margaretta, keenly, “there was a
+young girl who teased her grandmother to take her
+to Paris in the dead of winter. The grandmother
+didn’t want to go, but she went, and when the girl
+found herself shut up below on a plunging steamer
+that was trying to weather a cyclonic gale, she said,
+‘Grandma, I’ll never overpersuade you again.’”</p>
+
+<p>“And did she keep her promise?” asked Grandma,
+meaningly.</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta sprang to her feet, laughing nervously.
+“Dearest,” she said, “go to River Street,
+take your house. I’ll help you to the best of my
+ability. I see in advance what you are doing it for.
+Not only Berty, but the whole family will be benefited.
+You think we have been too prosperous, too
+self-satisfied&mdash;now, don’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma smiled mischievously. “Well, child,
+since you ask me, I must say that since your marriage
+I don’t see in you much passion for the good
+of others. Roger spoils you,” she added, apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>“I will be better,” said the beautiful girl, “and,
+Grandma, why haven’t you talked more to me&mdash;preached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
+more. I don’t remember any sermons,
+except ‘Keep the family together.’”</p>
+
+<p>“It was all there, only the time hadn’t come
+for you to see it. You know how it is in this
+new invention of wireless telegraphy&mdash;a receiver
+must be tuned to the same pitch as that of the transmitter,
+or a message cannot pass between.”</p>
+
+<p>A brilliant expression burst like a flood of sunlight
+over the girl’s face. “I’m tuned,” she said,
+gaily. “I’m getting older and have more sense.
+I can take the message, and even pass it on. Good-bye,
+best of Grandmas. I’m going to make my peace
+with Berty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Keep the family together,” said Grandma, demurely.</p>
+
+<p>“Berty, Berty, where are you?” cried Margaretta,
+whisking her draperies out into the hall and down-stairs.
+“I am such a sinner. I was abominably
+sharp with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hush,” said Berty, suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>She had come into the hall below and was standing
+holding something in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it?” asked Margaretta. “Oh!” and
+she gave a little scream, “a mouse!”</p>
+
+<p>“He is dead,” said Berty, quickly, “nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
+matters to him now. Poor little thing, how he
+suffered. He was caught in a cruel trap.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta gazed scrutinizingly at her. “You
+have a good heart, Berty. I’m sorry I quarrelled
+with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I forgot all about it,” said Berty, simply, “but
+I don’t like to quarrel with you, Margaretta. It
+usually gives me a bad feeling inside me.”</p>
+
+<p>“You want to go to River Street?” said Margaretta,
+abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, we shall be so near the river. I am
+going to keep my boat and canoe. The launch will
+have to go.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta suppressed a smile. “How about
+the neighbourhood?”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t like it, but we shall keep to ourselves.”</p>
+
+<p>“And keep the family together,” said Margaretta.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Berty, soberly. “Trust Grandma
+to do that. I wish you and Roger could live with
+us.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bless your heart,” said Margaretta, affectionately
+throwing an arm around her.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 460px;" id="illus2">
+<img src="images/illus2.jpg" width="460" height="650" alt="" />
+<p class="caption">“LEANING OVER THE STAIR RAILING”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>“But you’ll come to see us often?” said Berty,
+anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Every day; and, Berty, I prophesy peace and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
+prosperity to you and Grandma&mdash;and now good-bye,
+I’m going home to save.”</p>
+
+<p>“To save?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, to save money&mdash;to keep my family together,”
+and holding her head well in the air, Margaretta
+tripped through the long, cool hall out into
+the sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank God they have made up their quarrel,”
+said Grandma, who was leaning over the stair railing.
+“Nothing conquers a united family! And
+now will Margaretta have the strength of mind to
+keep to her new resolution?”</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br />
+<span class="smaller">A SUDDEN COUNTERMARCH</span></h2>
+
+<p>Roger Stanisfield was plodding wearily along
+the avenue. He was not aware what an exquisite
+summer evening it was. He carried his own
+troubled atmosphere with him.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly going up the broad flight of steps leading
+to his house, he drew out his latch-key. As
+he unlocked the door, a bevy of girls came trooping
+through the hall&mdash;some of his wife’s friends. His
+face cleared as he took off his hat and stood aside
+for them to pass.</p>
+
+<p>For a minute the air was gay with merry parting,
+then the girls were gone, and he went slowly up
+to his room.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Stanisfield is in the dining-room, sir,”
+said a servant, addressing him a few minutes later,
+as he stood in the hall with an air of great abstraction.
+“Dinner has just been served.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Roger,” said his wife, as he entered the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
+room where she sat at the table, “I didn’t know
+you’d come! You told me not to wait for you. I
+shall be glad when you take up your old habit of
+coming home in the middle of the afternoon.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am very busy now,” he muttered, as he took
+his place.</p>
+
+<p>“Does your head ache?” inquired Margaretta,
+when several courses had been passed through in
+silence on his part.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it is splitting.”</p>
+
+<p>Young Mrs. Stanisfield bent her fair head over
+her plate, and discreetly made only an occasional
+remark until the pudding was removed, and the
+table-maid had withdrawn from the room. Then
+she surreptitiously examined her husband’s face.</p>
+
+<p>He was thoughtfully surveying the fruit on the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>“Margaretta,” he said, boyishly, “I don’t care
+much for puddings and pastry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Neither do I,” she said, demurely.</p>
+
+<p>“I was wondering,” he said, hesitatingly,
+“whether we couldn’t do without puddings for
+awhile and just have nuts and raisins, or fruit&mdash;What
+are you laughing at?”</p>
+
+<p>“At your new rôle of housekeeper. You usually
+don’t seem to know what is on the table.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“I have a good appetite.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but you don’t criticize. You just eat what
+is set before you. I am sure it has escaped
+your masculine observation that for several weeks
+past we have had only one dish in the pastry course.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, we always used to have two or three&mdash;pudding,
+pie, and jelly or creams. Now we never
+have pudding and pie at the same time.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is that for?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, for something,” she said, quietly. “Now
+tell me what has gone wrong with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing has gone wrong with me,” he said,
+irritably.</p>
+
+<p>“With your business then.”</p>
+
+<p>He did not reply, and, rising, she said, “This
+sitting at table is tiresome when one eats nothing.
+Let us go to the drawing-room and have coffee.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want coffee,” he said, sauntering after
+her.</p>
+
+<p>“Neither do I,” she replied. “Shall we go out
+in the garden? It was delightfully cool there before
+dinner.”</p>
+
+<p>“What a crowd of women you had here,” he
+said, a little peevishly, as he followed her.</p>
+
+<p>“Hadn’t I?” and she smiled. “They had all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+been at a garden-party at the Everests, and as I
+wasn’t there they came to find out the reason.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t mean to say you missed a social
+function?” said her husband, sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, dear boy, I did, and I have before, and I
+am going to again.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanisfield laughed shortly. “You sound like
+your sister Berty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I should love to be like her. She is a
+dear little sister.”</p>
+
+<p>“But not as dear as her sister.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you,” said Margaretta, prettily, turning
+and curtseying to him, as he followed her along the
+garden paths. “Now, here we are among the roses.
+Just drag out those two chairs from the arbour, or
+will you get into the hammock?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll take the hammock,” he said, wearily. “I
+feel as if I were falling to pieces.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me arrange some cushions under your head
+so&mdash;this cool breeze will soon drive the business
+fog from your brain.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, it won’t&mdash;the fog is too heavy.”</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of a fog is it?” asked Margaretta,
+cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>Her husband sat up in the hammock, and stared
+at her with feverish eyes. “Margaretta, I think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+we had better give up this house and take a smaller
+one.”</p>
+
+<p>“I knew it,” said Margaretta, triumphantly. “I
+knew you were worried about your affairs!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you won’t feel so surprised,” he said,
+“when I tell you that we can’t stand this pace.
+We’ve had some heavy losses down at the iron works
+lately&mdash;mind you don’t say anything about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed I won’t,” she replied, proudly.</p>
+
+<p>“Father and I finished going over the books to-day
+with Mackintosh. We’ve got to put on the
+brakes. I&mdash;I hate to tell you,” and he averted
+his face. “You are so young.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta did not reply to him, and, eager to
+see her face, he presently turned his own.</p>
+
+<p>The sun had set, but she was radiant in a kind
+of afterglow.</p>
+
+<p>“Margaretta, you don’t understand,” he faltered.
+“It will be a tremendous struggle for you to give
+up luxuries to which you have been accustomed,
+but we’ve either got to come down to bare poles
+here, or move to a smaller house.”</p>
+
+<p>“What a misfortune!” she said.</p>
+
+<p>His face fell.</p>
+
+<p>“For you to have a headache about this matter,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
+she went on, gleefully. “I don’t call it a small one,
+for it isn’t, but if you knew everything!”</p>
+
+<p>“I know enough to make me feel like a cheat,”
+he blurted, wriggling about in the hammock.
+“I took you from a good home. I never wanted
+you to feel an anxiety, and now the first thing I’ve
+got to put you down to rigid economy. You see,
+father and I have to spend a certain amount on the
+business, or we’d be out of it in the war of competition,
+and we’ve both decided that expenses must
+be curtailed in our homes rather than in the iron
+works.”</p>
+
+<p>“That shows you are good business men,” said
+Margaretta, promptly. “You are as good business
+men as husbands.”</p>
+
+<p>“Margaretta,” said her husband, “you puzzle
+me. I expected a scene, and upon my word you
+look happy over it&mdash;but you don’t realize it, poor
+child!”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta smiled silently at him for a few
+seconds, then she said, roguishly, “I am going to
+give you a little surprise. You didn’t see me snatch
+this sheet of paper from my new cabinet when we
+left the house?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I did not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, what a nice little paper! What a precious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
+little paper!” said Margaretta, gaily, clasping it.
+“Can you see what is written on it, Roger? No,
+you can’t very well in this light.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I can,” said the young man, with a weary,
+amused smile. “Give it to me.”</p>
+
+<p>She drew her seat closer to the hammock, and
+both bent their heads over the paper.</p>
+
+<p>“Animus saved by Mrs. Roger Stanisfield during
+the month of July,” read Roger, stumblingly&mdash;“to
+be poured on my head, I suppose.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, not animus&mdash;amounts.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I see, you want to comfort me by showing
+what an economist you are. I dare say you have
+saved five whole dollars through the month. What
+is the first item? Saved on new dress, one hundred
+dollars. Good gracious&mdash;how much did the dress
+cost?”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t get it,” she replied, with immense satisfaction.
+“I needed one, or thought I did, and
+Madame Bouvard, that French dressmaker from
+New York, who came here last year, said she would
+make me one for one hundred dollars. Now some
+time ago, just after dear Grandma lost her money,
+she gave me a great shock.”</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma did?” asked her husband, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“No, she didn’t, she made me give it to myself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+That is Grandma’s way, you know. She doesn’t
+preach. Well, after this electric shock I was horrified
+to find out that I was a frivolous, extravagant
+person. I began to think hard, then I got this little
+piece of paper&mdash;and, oh, Roger, won’t you get me
+a regular business book, and make red lines down
+the sides, and show me how to keep proper accounts?”</p>
+
+<p>“I will, but what about the dress?”</p>
+
+<p>“I had ordered it, but I went to Madame Bouvard.
+I said, frankly, ‘I can’t pay as much as a hundred
+dollars for a gown.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘You shall have it for eighty,’ she said.</p>
+
+<p>“I said, ‘Please let me off altogether. I want
+to save a little on my outfit this summer, but I
+promise to come to you the first time I want a
+gown.’</p>
+
+<p>“As soon as I said it I bit my lip. ‘Oh, Madame
+Bouvard,’ I said, ‘you are the most satisfactory
+dressmaker I have ever had, but I don’t know
+whether I can afford to come to you again.’</p>
+
+<p>“She is just a plain little woman, but when she
+saw how badly I felt, her face lighted up like an
+angel’s. ‘Madame,’ she said, ‘do not take your
+custom from me. You have been the best lady I
+have worked for in Riverport. Why, my girls say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
+when your fair head passes the glass door of the
+workroom that it casts a ray of sunshine in upon
+them’&mdash;just think of that, Roger,&mdash;a ray of sunshine.
+I was quite pleased.”</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br />
+<span class="smaller">A LIFTED BURDEN</span></h2>
+
+<p>He laid a hand on the fair head, then hastily bent
+over the paper.</p>
+
+<p>“I was pleased, Roger, because I didn’t know
+that dressmakers or their sewing-girls ever cared
+for the people they work for; and what do you
+think she went on to say?&mdash;‘Madame, don’t go
+to a second-class establishment. I know you like
+first-class things. Come to me when you want a
+gown, and it shall be given to you at cost price,
+with just a trifle to satisfy you for my work’&mdash;wasn’t
+that sweet in her, Roger? I just caught
+her hand and squeezed it, and then she laid a finger
+on her lips&mdash;‘Not a word of this to any one,
+madame.’ I sent her a basket of flowers the next
+day.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are a good child,” said her husband, huskily.</p>
+
+<p>“Now go on to the next item,” said Margaretta,
+jubilantly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“‘Butter, twenty dollars’&mdash;what in the name
+of common sense does that mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Queer, isn’t it?” laughed Margaretta. “I’ll go
+back to the beginning and explain. You know,
+Roger, I am not such a terribly strong person, and
+I do love to lie in bed in the morning. It is so
+delicious when you know you ought to get up, to
+roll yourself in the soft clothes and have another
+nap! You remember that I had got into a great
+way of having my breakfast in bed. Well, madam
+in bed meant carelessness in the kitchen. We have
+honest servants, Roger, but they are heedless. After
+my shock from Grandma about economy, I said, ‘I
+will reform. I will watch the cents, and the cents
+will watch the dollars.’</p>
+
+<p>“Now, to catch the first stray cent, it was necessary
+to get up early. I just hated to do it, but I
+made myself. I sprang out of bed in the morning,
+had my cold plunge, and was down before you, and
+it was far more interesting to have company for
+breakfast than to have no one, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, rather.”</p>
+
+<p>“You good boy. You never complained. Well,
+cook was immensely surprised to have a call from
+me before breakfast. One morning I found her
+making pastry, and putting the most delicious-looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
+yellow butter in it. ‘Why, that’s our table
+butter,’ I said, ‘isn’t it, that comes from Cloverdale,
+and costs a ridiculous amount?’</p>
+
+<p>“She said it was.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Why don’t you use cooking-butter, Jane?’
+I asked; ‘it’s just as good, isn’t it?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Well, ma’am, there’s nothing impure about it,’
+she said, ‘but I know you like everything of the
+best, so I put this in.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Jane,’ I said, ‘never do it again. I’m going
+to economize, and I want you to help me. If you
+can’t, I must send you away and get some one else.’</p>
+
+<p>“She laughed&mdash;you know what a fat, good-natured
+creature she is&mdash;and seemed to think it
+a kind of joke that I should want to economize.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Jane,’ I said, ‘I’m in earnest.’</p>
+
+<p>“Then she sobered down. ‘Truth, and I’ll help
+you, ma’am, if you really want me to. There’s lots
+of ways I can save for you, but I thought you didn’t
+care. You always seem so open-handed.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Well, Jane,’ I said, ‘I don’t want to be mean,
+and I don’t want adulterated food, but my husband
+and I are young, and we want to save something
+for old age. Now you’ll help us, won’t you?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Honour bright, I will, ma’am,’ she said, and
+I believed her. I can’t stay in the kitchen and watch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
+her, but she watches herself, and just read that
+list of groceries and see what else she has saved.”</p>
+
+<p>“How have you found out the exact list of your
+economies?” asked Roger, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“By comparing my bills of this month with those
+of the month before. For instance, sugar was so
+many dollars in June; in July it is so many dollars
+less. Of course, we must take into account that
+we have been entertaining less. Have you noticed
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but I thought it only a passing whim.”</p>
+
+<p>“Some whims don’t pass, they stay,” said Margaretta,
+shaking her head. “Go on, Roger.”</p>
+
+<p>“One hundred and fifty dollars saved in not
+entertaining Miss Gregory&mdash;pray who is Miss
+Gregory?”</p>
+
+<p>“That society belle from Newport who has been
+staying with the Darley-Jameses.”</p>
+
+<p>“How does she come into your expenditures?”</p>
+
+<p>“She doesn’t come in,” said Margaretta, with satisfaction.
+“I haven’t done a thing for her beyond
+being polite and talking to her whenever I get a
+chance, and, oh, yes&mdash;I did give her a drive.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, but&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me explain. If I hadn’t been taken with a
+fit of economy, I would, in the natural order of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+things, have made a dinner for Miss Gregory. I
+would have had a picnic, and perhaps a big evening
+party. Think what it would have cost&mdash;you remember
+Mrs. Handfell?”</p>
+
+<p>Her husband made a face.</p>
+
+<p>“You never liked her, and I did wrong to have
+her here so much. Well, Roger, do you know I
+spent a large sum of money in entertaining that
+woman? I am ashamed to tell you how much. I
+had her here, morning, noon, and night. I took her
+up the river&mdash;you remember the decorated boats
+and the delightful music. It was charming, but we
+could not afford it, and when I went to New York
+she met me on Fifth Avenue, and said, ‘Oh, how
+do you do&mdash;so glad to see you. Be sure to call
+while you are here. My day is Friday.’ Then she
+swept away. That was a society woman who had
+graciously allowed me to amuse her during her
+summer trip to Maine. I was so hurt about it that
+I never told you.”</p>
+
+<p>“What an empty head,” said Roger, picking up
+the list.</p>
+
+<p>“It taught me a lesson,” continued his wife.
+“Now go on&mdash;do read the other things.”</p>
+
+<p>His eyes had run down to the total. “Whew,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
+Margaretta!&mdash;you don’t mean to say you have
+saved all this in a month?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I do.”</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t felt any tightening in your household
+arrangements. Why, at what a rate were we living?”</p>
+
+<p>“At a careless rate,” said Margaretta, seriously,
+“a careless, slipshod rate. I bought everything I
+wanted. Flowers, in spite of our greenhouse, fruit
+and vegetables out of season, in spite of our garden,
+but now I look in the shop windows and say
+with a person I was reading about the other day,
+‘Why, how many things there are I can do without,’&mdash;and
+with all my economy I have yet managed
+to squeeze out something for Grandma. I
+just made her take it.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger’s face flushed. “Margaretta, if you will
+keep this thing going, we won’t have to give up
+this house.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll keep it going,” said Margaretta, solemnly,
+“you shall not leave this house. It would be a
+blow to your honest pride.”</p>
+
+<p>The young man was deeply moved, and, lifting
+his face to the pale, rising young moon, he murmured,
+“Thank God for a good wife.” Then he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
+turned to her. “I wish some other men starting
+out in life had such a helper as you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, wish them a better one,” said Margaretta,
+humbly; “but I know what you mean, Roger. A
+man cannot succeed unless his wife helps him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sometimes it makes me furious,” said Roger,
+warmly. “I see fellows down-town, young fellows,
+too, working early and late, straining every nerve
+to keep up the extravagance of some thoughtless
+young wife. Why don’t the women think? Men
+hate to complain.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta hung her head. Then she lifted it,
+and said, apologetically, “Perhaps they haven’t had
+wise grandmothers.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger smiled. “Upon my word, a man in choosing
+a wife ought to look first at the girl’s grandmother.”</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="verse">“‘My grandma lives on yonder little green,</div>
+<div class="verse">Fine old lady as ever was seen.’”</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">chanted a gay voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Bonny,” exclaimed Margaretta, flying out of
+her seat.</p>
+
+<p>They were a remarkable pair as they came up
+the gravel walk together&mdash;the tall lad and the
+tall girl, both light-haired, both blue of eyes, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+pink, and white, and smooth as to complexion like
+a pair of babies.</p>
+
+<p>The elder man stared at them admiringly. Bonny
+was the baby of the orphan family that the sterling
+old grandmother had brought up. Strange that
+the grandson of such a woman had so little character,
+and Roger sighed slightly. Bonny was a mere
+boy, thoughtless, fond of fun, and too much of a
+favourite with the gay lads about the town. However,
+he might develop, and Roger’s face brightened.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you dear Bonny,” said Margaretta, pressing
+his arm, “it was so good in you to remember your
+promise to come and tell me about your afternoon
+on the river. You had a pleasant time, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“Glorious,” said the lad. “The water was like
+glass, and we had a regular fleet of canoes. I say,
+Margaretta, I like that chap from Boston. Do
+something for him, won’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, Bonny, what do you want me to do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Make him some kind of a water-party.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta became troubled. “How many people
+do you want to invite?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, about sixty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you think if we had three or four of
+your chosen friends he would enjoy it just as
+much?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“No, I don’t; what do you think, Roger?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know about him. I hate crowds myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“I like them,” said Bonny. “Come, Margaretta,
+decide.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, my dear, spoiled boy,” said the girl, in
+perplexity, “I would give a party to all Riverport
+if it would please you, but I am trying dreadfully
+hard to economize. Those large things cost so
+much.”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny opened wide his big blue eyes. “You are
+not getting mean, Margaretta?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, my heart feels more generous than
+ever, but I see that this eternal entertaining on a
+big scale doesn’t amount to much. Once in awhile
+a huge affair is nice, but to keep it up week after
+week is a waste of time and energy, and you don’t
+make real friends.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said Bonny, good-naturedly. “I’ll
+take him for a swim. That won’t cost anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Bonny,” said Margaretta, in an injured
+voice, “don’t misunderstand me. We’ll have a
+little excursion on the river, if you like, with half
+a dozen of your friends, and I’ll give you a good
+big party this summer&mdash;you would rather have it
+later on, wouldn’t you, when there are more girls
+visiting here?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes, indeed, let us wait for the girls,” said
+Bonny.</p>
+
+<p>“And in the meantime,” continued Margaretta,
+“bring the Boston boy here as often as you like,
+to drop in to meals. I shall be delighted to see
+him, and so will you, Roger, won’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” said
+the young man, who had gone off into a reverie,
+“but it’s all right if you say so.”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny laughed at him, then, jumping up, said,
+“I must be going.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where’s the dog, Margaretta?” asked Roger.
+“I’ll walk home with the boy.”</p>
+
+<p>“But your headache,” said his wife.</p>
+
+<p>“Is all gone&mdash;that prescription cured it,” said
+the young man, with a meaning glance at the
+sheet of note-paper clasped in his wife’s hand.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled and waved it at him. “Wives’ cold
+cash salve for the cure of husbands’ headaches.”</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of a salve is that?” asked Bonny,
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Wait till you have a house of your own, Bonny,”
+said his sister, caressingly, “and I will tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>Then, as the man and the boy walked slowly
+away, she slipped into the hammock and turned her
+face up to the lovely evening sky.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Little moon, I call you to witness I have begun
+a countermarch. I’m never more going to spend
+all the money I get, even if I have to earn some of
+it with my own hands!”</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br />
+<span class="smaller">THE TRAINING OF A BOY</span></h2>
+
+<p>Roger, sitting in his office at the iron works, from
+time to time raised his grave face to look at Bonny,
+who was fidgeting restlessly about the room.</p>
+
+<p>Next to his wife, Roger loved his young brother-in-law,&mdash;the
+fair-haired, genial lad, everybody’s
+favourite, no one’s enemy but his own.</p>
+
+<p>He wondered why the boy had come to him.
+Probably he was in some scrape and wanted help.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the boy flung himself round upon him.
+“Roger&mdash;why don’t some of you good people try
+to reform me?”</p>
+
+<p>Roger leaned back in his chair and stared at
+the disturbed young face.</p>
+
+<p>“Come, now, don’t say that you don’t think I
+need reformation,” said the boy, mockingly.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess we all need that,” replied his brother-in-law,
+soberly, “but you come of pretty good stock,
+Bonny.”</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;" id="illus3">
+<img src="images/illus3.jpg" width="500" height="650" alt="" />
+<p class="caption">“‘WHY DON’T SOME OF YOU GOOD PEOPLE TRY TO REFORM ME?’”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“The stock’s all right. That’s why I’m afraid of
+breaking loose and disgracing it.”</p>
+
+<p>“What have you been doing?” asked Roger,
+kindly.</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t been doing anything,” said the boy,
+sullenly. “It’s what I may do that I’m afraid of.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger said nothing. He was just casting about
+in his mind for a suitable reply, when the boy went
+on. “If you’ve been brought up just like a parson,
+and had all kinds of sentiments and good thoughts
+lived at you, and then don’t rise to the goodness
+you’re bursting with, it’s bound to rebel and give
+you a bad time.”</p>
+
+<p>The man, having got a clue to the boy’s mental
+trouble, hastened to say, “You act all right. I
+shouldn’t say you were unhappy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Act!” repeated the boy. “Act, acting, actors,
+actresses,&mdash;that’s what we all are. Now I’d like
+to have a good time. I don’t think I’m far out of
+the way; but there’s Grandma&mdash;she just makes
+me rage. Such goings on!”</p>
+
+<p>“What has your grandmother been doing?”</p>
+
+<p>“She hasn’t done much, and she hasn’t said a
+word, but, hang it! there’s more in what Grandma
+doesn’t say than there is in what other women do
+say.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“You’re right there, my boy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, what did she want to go give me a latch-key
+for?” asked the boy, in an aggrieved tone,
+“just after I’d started coming in a little later than
+usual? Why don’t she say, ‘My dear boy, you
+are on the road to ruin. Staying out late is the
+first step. May I not beg of you to do better, my
+dear young grandson? Otherwise you will bring
+down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.’”</p>
+
+<p>“This is what she didn’t say?” asked Roger,
+gravely.</p>
+
+<p>“This is what she didn’t say,” repeated the boy,
+crossly, “but this is what she felt. I know her!
+The latch-key was a bit of tomfoolery. An extra
+lump of sugar in my coffee is more tomfoolery.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you want her to preach to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” snarled the handsome lad. “I don’t want
+her to preach, and I don’t want you to preach, and
+I don’t want my sisters to preach, but I want some
+one to do something for me.”</p>
+
+<p>“State your case in a more businesslike way,”
+said the elder man, gravely. “I don’t understand.”</p>
+
+<p>“You know I’m in the National Bank,” said
+Bonny, shortly.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly I know that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma put me there a year ago. I don’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
+object to the bank, if I’ve got to work. It’s as
+easy as anything I could get, and I hate study.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Being in the bank, I’d like to rise,” Bonny went
+on, irritably, “but somehow or other there seems
+a little prejudice in the air against me. Has any
+one said anything to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a word.”</p>
+
+<p>The boy drew a long breath. “Perhaps it’s partly
+imagination. They’re very down on fun in our
+bank. Now when hours are over, and I come
+out, there’s a whole gang of nice fellows ready to
+do anything that’s going. Sometimes we play
+billiards. On fine days we’re always on the river.
+There’s no harm in that, is there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not that I see,” observed Roger, cautiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Then, when evening comes, and we want to
+sit down somewhere, we have a quiet little game of
+cards. There’s no harm in that, is there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you play for money?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sometimes&mdash;well, perhaps nearly always, but
+there’s no harm in that, is there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me hear the rest of your story.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sometimes I’m late getting home. We get interested,
+but that’s nothing. I’m almost a man. Five
+hours’ sleep is enough for me.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A long pause followed, broken finally by Roger,
+who said, calmly, “You have given an account of
+your time. What is wrong with it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s all wrong,” blurted the boy, “and you
+know it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t said so.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you feel it. You’re just like Grandma&mdash;bother
+it! Don’t I know she thinks I ought to
+spend my evenings at home, reading about banking,
+so as to work myself up to a president’s chair?”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you get any time for reading through the
+day?”</p>
+
+<p>“How can I?” said the boy, eloquently, “when
+I was almost brought up out-of-doors, and as soon
+as the bank closes every square inch of flesh of
+me is squealing to get on the river. Now what
+do you think I ought to do?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a puzzling case,” said Roger, with a slow
+shake of his head. “According to your own account,
+you are leading a blameless life. Yet, according
+to the same account, you are not happy in it,
+though no one is finding fault with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“No one finding fault!” said the boy, sulkily.
+“Why, the very stones in the street stare at me
+and say, ‘Animal! Animal! you don’t care for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+anything but fun. You’d skip the bank every day if
+you dared.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny gave himself a resounding thwack on
+the chest. “Because,” he said, “Grandma has
+planted something here that won’t be downed.
+Something that won’t let me have a good time
+when I know she isn’t pleased with me. Sometimes
+I get so mad that I think I will run away, but that
+wouldn’t do any good, for she’d run with me. She’d
+haunt my dreams&mdash;I don’t know what I’m going
+to do!”</p>
+
+<p>Roger, carefully concealing all signs of compassion,
+gazed steadily at the distressed face. “Do
+you want to break away from your set?” he asked,
+at last.</p>
+
+<p>“No, I don’t. They’re good fellows.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what are you going to do about that bad
+feeling inside of you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” said Bonny, bitterly. “I know
+Grandma thinks I’m going to be like Walt Everest,
+big and fat and jolly, and everybody’s chum, who
+can sing a song, and dance a jig, and never does
+any business, and never will amount to anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she ever say so?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“No,” growled the boy, “but don’t I tell you I
+know what Grandma’s thinking about?”</p>
+
+<p>“How does your sister Berty take you?” asked
+Roger.</p>
+
+<p>“Just like Grandma,” blazed the boy, in sudden
+wrath, “never says a word but a pleasant one,
+catches me in a corner and kisses me&mdash;kisses me!&mdash;just
+think of it!”</p>
+
+<p>Roger thought deeply for a few minutes, while
+Bonny took up his miserable ramble about the room.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here, boy,” he said, finally. “You do as
+I tell you for a week. Begin from this minute.
+Read that magazine, then go home with me to
+dinner. After dinner come back here and help me.
+I’m working on some accounts for a time. That
+will be an excuse to the boys for not playing cards.”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny’s face was clearing. “A good excuse,
+too,” he muttered. “If I said I was going with
+Grandma or the girls, they’d laugh at me.”</p>
+
+<p>“You tell them you are working on my books,
+and I am paying you. That will shut their mouths,
+and you’ll not object to the extra money.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess I won’t. I’m hard pushed all the time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you save anything from your salary for
+Grandma?” asked Roger, keenly.</p>
+
+<p>“How can I?” said the boy, indignantly. “She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+has brought me up to be clean. It takes nearly
+everything I get to pay my laundry bill&mdash;I dare
+say you think I’m a brute to be so selfish.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll send you home every night at ten, and
+mind you go to bed,” said Roger, calmly. “Five
+hours’ sleep is not enough for a boy of eighteen.
+Get up in the morning and go to the bank. As
+soon as it closes in the afternoon I’ll have business
+in Cloverdale that will take you on a drive there.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re a daisy, Roger,” said Bonny, in a low
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>Roger cast down his eyes. That flushed, disturbed
+face reminded him of his own beautiful Margaretta.
+Pray Heaven, he would never see such
+trouble and dissatisfaction in her blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Bonny had already thrown himself into a deep
+leather-covered armchair, and was apparently absorbed
+in the magazine. Presently he looked up.
+“Roger, don’t you tell the girls what I’ve been
+saying.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I won’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nor Grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, nor Grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>But Grandma knew. There was no hoodwinking
+that dear, shrewd old lady, and when next she met
+Roger, which was the following morning, as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+was on his way to his office, and she was on her
+way to call on his wife, her deep-set eyes glistened
+strangely, and instead of saying “Good morning,
+dear grandson-in-law,” as she usually did, she said
+“Good morning, dear son.” She considered him as
+much one of the family as her three beloved orphan
+grandchildren.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, Grandma knew, and Grandma approved of
+what he was doing for her poor, wilful, troubled
+Bonny.</p>
+
+<p>Every evening for five evenings the lad came to
+the iron works, and steadfastly set his young face
+to the sober, unexciting examination of dull rows
+of figures, stretching indefinitely across white pages.</p>
+
+<p>On the fifth night something went wrong with
+him. In the first place, he was late in coming.
+In the second place, his nerves seemed to be stretched
+to their utmost tension.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s up with you?” asked Roger, when, after
+a few minutes’ work Bonny pushed aside the big
+books, and said, “I’m going home.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m tired,” said Bonny. “I hate this bookkeeping.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said his brother-in-law, composedly.
+“I’m tired myself. Let’s have a game of chess.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hate chess,” said Bonny, sulkily.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“I wonder whether it’s too early for supper?”
+asked Roger, good-humouredly getting up and going
+to a closet.</p>
+
+<p>He looked over his shoulder at Bonny as he spoke.
+Every night at half-past nine he was in the habit
+of producing cakes, candy, syrup, fruit, and nuts
+for the boy’s supper. It was not very long since
+he had been a boy himself, and he remembered his
+chronic craving for sweet things.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re always stuffing me,” replied Bonny, disagreeably.
+“You think you’ll make me good-natured.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter with you, Bonny?” asked
+Roger, closing the door and returning to his seat.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,”
+snarled Bonny, miserably, rolling his head about
+on his folded arms resting on the table. “I hate
+everything and everybody. I could kill you, Roger.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right&mdash;there’s a pair of Indian clubs over
+there in the corner,” said his brother-in-law, cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought I’d be an angel after a few nights’
+association with you,” continued the lad, “and you
+make me feel worse than ever.”</p>
+
+<p>“Looks as if I were a bad sort of a fellow,
+doesn’t it?” remarked Roger, philosophically.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“You’re not bad,” snapped Bonny. “You’re a
+tremendous good sort. I’m the brute. Roger, why
+don’t you preach to me?”</p>
+
+<p>For some time Roger stared at him in silence;
+then he said, “Seems to me you can preach better
+to yourself. If I were going to set up for a preacher
+I’d only hold forth to the impenitent.”</p>
+
+<p>“The fellows are going to a dance at Hickey’s
+to-night,” said Bonny, suddenly pounding on the
+table with his fist, “and I’m not in it, and then at
+midnight they’re going to see the circus arrive, and
+I’m not in that.”</p>
+
+<p>“At Hickey’s&mdash;where is that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Up the road; don’t you know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes; rather gay people, aren’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, they’re not in Margaretta’s set; but then
+she is mighty particular.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would you take her there if she cared to go?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I wouldn’t&mdash;well, go on, Roger.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go on where?” asked the elder man, in slight
+bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>“To embrace your opportunity&mdash;administer a
+rebuke&mdash;cuff a sinner,” sneered Bonny.</p>
+
+<p>Roger grinned at him.</p>
+
+<p>“My dear boy,” began Bonny, in an exasperated
+tone, “let me exhort, admonish, and counsel you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+never to go to any place, or visit any resort, or indulge
+in any society where you could not take your
+venerable grandmother and your beloved sisters.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not bad for a beginner,” said Roger, patronizingly.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going,” said the boy, abruptly jumping up.
+“I feel as if I should fly in fifty pieces if I stayed
+here any longer&mdash;till I see you again, Roger.”</p>
+
+<p>He was already on the threshold, but Roger
+sauntered after him. “Hold on a bit&mdash;four days
+ago you came to me in something of a pickle.”</p>
+
+<p>“You bet your iron works I did,” replied Bonny.</p>
+
+<p>“I helped you out of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess you did.”</p>
+
+<p>“For four evenings you have come here and
+helped me, and I am going to pay you well for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Glory on your head, you are,” said Bonny,
+wildly.</p>
+
+<p>“In these four days,” continued Roger, “you
+have been early at the bank&mdash;you have done your
+work faithfully there. You have not shirked.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a hair’s breadth, and mighty tired I am of
+it. I’m sick of reformation. I’m going to be just
+as bad as I can be. Hurrah for Hickey’s,” and he
+was just about darting off, when Roger caught him
+by the arm.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Listen to me for a minute. I ask you to give
+me one day more. Stay here with me to-night.
+Do your work as usual. Go home to bed. Fill in
+to-morrow properly, then in the evening, at this
+time, if you want to go back to your old silly tricks,
+go. I wash my hands of you.”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny turned his face longingly toward the city,
+thought deeply for a few minutes, then retraced his
+steps. “I’ll be good to-night,” he said, threateningly,
+“but just you wait till to-morrow night
+comes.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve got a conscience,” said Roger, sternly;
+“if you choose to choke it and play the fool, no one
+is strong enough to hold you&mdash;pass me that ledger,
+will you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, shut up,” blurted Bonny, under his
+breath. However, he sat down quietly enough, and
+did his work until the clock struck ten.</p>
+
+<p>Then he stifled a yawn, jumped up, and said, “I’m
+going now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mind, seven-thirty to-morrow evening,” said
+Roger, stiffly.</p>
+
+<p>“All right; seven-thirty for once more, and only
+once,” said Bonny, with glistening eyes, “for once
+more and only once! I’m tired of your stuffy old
+office, and strait-laced ways.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Good night,” said Roger, kindly, “and don’t
+be a fool.”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny ran like a fox down the long lane leading
+to the city. “He’s making for his burrow,”
+said Roger, with a weary smile. “He’s a scamp, but
+you can trust him if he once gives his word. I
+wish I were a better sort of a man,” and with
+mingled reverence and humility he lifted his gaze
+to the stars. “If that boy is going to be saved,
+something has got to be done mighty quick!”</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br />
+<span class="smaller">BONNY’S ORDEAL</span></h2>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter, Roger?” asked his wife,
+when he went home.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing,” said the young man, wearily, but
+he went to bed early, and, rising early the next
+morning, strode off to the iron works without taking
+his breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>How he loved the handsome lad, his wife’s
+double. What could he do, what could he say?
+Until now he had considered the boy inferior in
+character to his two sisters. But, as he had often
+assured himself, the stock was good, and the strength
+and energy latent in Bonny were now looming to
+the fore. He was emerging from boyhood into
+manhood, and his childish, happy-go-lucky disposition
+of youth was warring with the growing forces
+of more mature age.</p>
+
+<p>The morning wore on, and his gloominess increased,
+until his father shortly told him that he
+didn’t look well, and he had better go home.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“I’m all right,” Roger was saying, almost harshly,
+when there was a ring at his telephone. The
+National Bank wanted to speak to him.</p>
+
+<p>“Hello,” said Roger.</p>
+
+<p>“Can you come up to the bank?” asked some one,
+in a jerky voice. “Have had a robbery&mdash;young
+Gravely hurt.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger dashed from his seat, seized his hat, and
+with a hurried word to his father, rushed outside.</p>
+
+<p>A delivery-cart was standing before the door.
+He did not stop to see whose it was, but seizing the
+reins, urged the horse toward the centre of the city.</p>
+
+<p>There was a crowd around the bank, but the
+cordon of police let him through. Inside was a
+group of bank officials, reporters, and detectives.</p>
+
+<p>The president’s face was flushed and angry.
+“Yes we have had a loss,” he said to Roger. “Oh,
+young Gravely&mdash;his grandmother came for him.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger elbowed his way out and took a cab to
+River Street.</p>
+
+<p>Here it was quiet. The noise of the bank robbery
+had not reached this neighbourhood. He ran
+up-stairs three steps at a time to Bonny’s large room
+in the top of the house, and softly pushed open the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>Bonny was in bed. Grandma, Berty, a woman of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+the neighbourhood, and a doctor were bending over
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Roger could see that the boy’s face was pale and
+bandaged.</p>
+
+<p>“Bonny,” he said, involuntarily.</p>
+
+<p>The boy heard him and opened his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“All right, Roger,” he murmured, feebly. “I
+stood by the fort, but I&mdash;guess&mdash;you’ll&mdash;have&mdash;to&mdash;excuse&mdash;me&mdash;to-night,”
+and his voice trailed
+off into unconsciousness.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor looked impatiently over his shoulder,
+and Roger crept out into the hall.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma sent Berty after him. “Oh, Roger,”
+she whispered, “we had such a fright.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is it&mdash;how was it?” asked Roger,
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, the circus-parade was passing the bank.
+Every clerk but Bonny left his desk to go look
+at it. They don’t seem to know why he stayed.
+When the parade passed, and the clerks went back,
+he was lying on the floor with his face and head
+cut.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know why he stayed,” muttered Roger. “He
+was trying to do his duty. Thank God, he was
+not killed. Is he much hurt?”</p>
+
+<p>“Some bad flesh wounds. The doctor says he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
+must be kept quiet, but he doesn’t think his brain
+is injured. Oh, Roger, we are so thankful his life
+was spared.”</p>
+
+<p>“Probably the thieves didn’t try to kill him. If
+I can do nothing, I’ll go find out something about
+the affair. I must telephone Margaretta. She will
+be upset if she hears from strangers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, go,” said Berty, “and ask her to come to
+us.”</p>
+
+<p>Late that evening, the doctor, to quiet his feverish
+patient, permitted him to have five minutes’ conversation
+with his brother-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>Roger seized the hand lying on the coverlet, and
+pressed it silently.</p>
+
+<p>“Did they catch the thieves?” asked Bonny,
+huskily.</p>
+
+<p>“One of them, my boy&mdash;how do you think the
+detectives made sure of him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“He was hanging around the circus-crowd, trying
+to mix up with it&mdash;he had some of your yellow
+hairs on his coat-sleeve.”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny smiled faintly.</p>
+
+<p>“The police expect him to turn State’s evidence,”
+continued Roger.</p>
+
+<p>“How much did the bank lose?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Fifteen thousand dollars.”</p>
+
+<p>“But they’ll get it back, Roger?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, if they catch the other fellow, and they’re
+sure to do it. Bonny, you’re not to talk. Just tell
+me if this is straight&mdash;I want it for the papers.
+You stood at your desk, all the others ran to the
+street door. Then&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Then,” said Bonny, “I was mad. I wanted to
+look at the circus, but I had promised you not to
+shirk. But I just gritted my teeth as I stood there.
+I was staring after the others when I heard a little
+noise in the president’s room. I turned round, and
+saw a man peeping out. I had no revolver, and I
+didn’t know where Danvers kept his, and like an
+idiot I never thought to scream. I just grabbed
+for Buckley’s camera. You know he is a photographic
+fiend.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” smiled Roger, and he thought of what
+the captured thief had asked one of the policemen
+guarding him: “How’s that gritty little demon that
+tried to snap us?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was just pressing the button,” went on Bonny,
+“when the man leaped like a cat, and, first thing I
+knew, he was smashing me over the head with that
+camera. There was such a row in the street that
+the others didn’t hear it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Five minutes are up,” said the doctor, coming
+into the room.</p>
+
+<p>“One minute, Roger,” said the boy, feebly. “I
+had a second before I got whacked, and in that
+second I thought, ‘Here’s a specimen of the leisure
+class toward which I am drifting. I’ll stay with
+the workers,’ so, Roger, we’ll not call off that contract
+of ours to-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said Roger, beaming on him, and
+backing toward the door. “It’s to stand&mdash;for how
+long?”</p>
+
+<p>“For ever!” said the boy, with sudden force,
+just as the doctor gently pushed him back on his
+pillow, and, putting a teaspoonful of medicine to
+his lips, said, “Now, young sir, you take this.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger, with a smiling face, sought Grandma and
+Berty on the veranda at the back of the house.
+“He’ll be all right in a day or two.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it is the shock that has upset him more
+than the wounds,” said Berty. “The burglars only
+wanted to silence him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma, do you know the bank is going to
+discharge every man-Jack but Bonny?” said Roger.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma’s eyes sparkled, then she became
+thoughtful.</p>
+
+<p>“What, all those old fellows?” exclaimed Berty.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Bonny won’t stay,” said Grandma, quietly.
+“He would feel like a prig.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am going to take him in the iron works with
+me,” said Roger. “I won’t be denied. He will
+make a first-class business man.”</p>
+
+<p>“Under your tuition,” said Grandma, with a
+proud look at him.</p>
+
+<p>“Hush,” said Berty, “the newsboys are calling
+an extra.”</p>
+
+<p>They all listened. “Extry edeetion <cite>Evening
+Noose</cite>&mdash;cap-tchure of the second burrgg-lar of the
+great bank robbery.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good,” cried Berty, “they’ve caught the second
+man. Roger, dear, go get us a paper.”</p>
+
+<p>The young man ran nimbly down-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>“How he loves Bonny!” said Berty. “What a
+good brother-in-law!”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma said nothing, but her inscrutable gaze
+went away down the river.</p>
+
+<p>“And, Grandma,” went on Berty, “let me tell
+you what Bonny whispered to me before I left the
+room. He said, ‘I’ve sometimes got mad with
+Grandma for always harping on keeping the family
+together, but I see now that if you keep your own
+family together, you keep your business family together.’”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Grandma did not reply. Her gaze was still down
+the river, but the girl, watching her lips, saw them
+softly form the words, “Thank God!”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny’s ordeal was past, and it had better fitted
+him for other and perhaps more severe ordeals in
+his life to come.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br />
+<span class="smaller">BERTY IMPARTS INFORMATION</span></h2>
+
+<p>Mrs. Stanisfield was making her way to her
+roof-garden.</p>
+
+<p>“If any callers come,” she said to her parlour-maid,
+“bring them up here.”</p>
+
+<p>Presently there was an exclamation, “What
+cheer!”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta looked around. Her irrepressible sister
+Berty stood in the French window, her dark
+head thrust forward inquiringly.</p>
+
+<p>“Come out, dear,” said Mrs. Stanisfield, “I am
+alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“I want to have a talk,” said Berty, coming forward,
+“and have you anything to eat? I am hungry
+as a guinea-pig.”</p>
+
+<p>“There is a freezer of ice-cream over there behind
+those azaleas&mdash;the cake is in a covered dish.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty dipped out a saucerful of ice-cream, cut
+herself a good-sized piece of cake, and then took a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
+low seat near her sister, who was examining her
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Berty,” said Margaretta, suddenly, “you have
+something to tell me.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty laughed. “How queer things are. Two
+months ago we had plenty of money. Then
+Grandma lost everything. We had to go and live
+in that old gone-to-seed mansion on River Street&mdash;you
+know what a dirty street it is?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know&mdash;I wish I didn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not sorry we went. I’ve had such experiences.
+I thought I wouldn’t tell you, Margaretta,
+till all was over. You might worry.”</p>
+
+<p>“What have you been doing?” asked Margaretta,
+anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“You remember how the neighbours thought
+we were missionaries when we first moved to the
+street?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I do.”</p>
+
+<p>“And when I spoke sharply to a slow workman,
+an impudent boy called out that the missionary was
+mad?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I recall it&mdash;what neighbours!”</p>
+
+<p>“I shall never forget that first evening,” said
+Berty, musingly. “Grandma and I were sitting by
+the fire&mdash;so tired after the moving&mdash;when a dozen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
+of those half-washed women came edging in with
+Bibles and hymn-books under their arms.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was detestable,” said Margaretta, with a
+shrug of her shoulders, “but does it not worry you
+to repeat all this?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, dearest, I am working up to something.
+You remember the women informed us in a mousie
+way that they had come to have a prayer-meeting,
+and I cuttingly told them that we weren’t ready for
+callers. Dear Grandma tried to smooth it over by
+saying that while we had a great respect for religious
+workers, we did not belong to them, but her salve
+didn’t cover the wound my tongue had made.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?” asked Margaretta.</p>
+
+<p>“Here begins the part that is new to you,” said
+Berty, jubilantly. “To snub one’s neighbours is
+a dangerous thing. Every tin can and every decrepit
+vegetable in our yard next morning eloquently proclaimed
+this truth.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t mean to say they had dared&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Had dared and done&mdash;and our yard had just
+been so nicely cleaned. Well, I was pretty mad, but
+I said nothing. Next morning there was more rubbish&mdash;I
+went into the street. There was no policeman
+in sight, so I went to the city hall. Underneath<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+is a place, you know, where policemen lounge
+till they have to go on their beats.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I don’t know. I never was in the city
+hall in my life. You didn’t go alone, Berty?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I did&mdash;why shouldn’t I? I’m a free-born
+American citizen. Our grandfather was one
+of the leading men of this city. His taxes helped
+to build that hall. I’ve a right there, if I want to
+go.”</p>
+
+<p>“But without a chaperon, and you are so young,
+and&mdash;and&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Beautiful.”</p>
+
+<p>“I was going to say pretty,” remarked Margaretta,
+severely.</p>
+
+<p>“Beautiful is stronger,” said Berty, calmly.
+“What a lovely view you have from this roof-garden,
+Margaretta. How it must tranquillize you
+to gaze at those trees and flower-beds when anything
+worries you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do go on, Berty&mdash;what did you do at the city
+hall?”</p>
+
+<p>“A big policeman asked what I wanted. I
+thought of one of dear grandfather’s sayings,
+‘Never deal with subordinates if you can get at
+principals,’ so I said, ‘I want to see your head
+man.’”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“That’s an African tribe expression, I think,”
+murmured Margaretta.</p>
+
+<p>“Evidently, for he grinned and said, ‘Oh, the
+chief,’ and he opened the door of a private office”.</p>
+
+<p>“Another big man sat like a mountain behind a
+table. He didn’t get up when I went in&mdash;just
+looked at me.”</p>
+
+<p>“‘Are you over the police of this city?’” I asked.</p>
+
+<p>“‘I am,’ he said.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Well,’ I said, ‘I’ve come to apply to you for
+protection. My neighbours throw tin cans in my
+back yard every night, and I don’t like it.’</p>
+
+<p>“He grinned from ear to ear, and asked me where
+I lived.</p>
+
+<p>“‘On River Street,’ I said.</p>
+
+<p>“He gave a whistle and stared at me. I didn’t
+have on anything remarkable&mdash;only a black cloth
+walking-skirt with a round hat, and that plain-looking
+white shirt-waist you gave me with the pretty
+handwork.”</p>
+
+<p>“Which cost forty dollars,” said Margaretta, under
+her breath.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that man stared at me,” went on Berty,
+“and then what do you think he said in an easy
+tone of voice&mdash;‘And what have you been doing
+to your neighbours, my dear?’</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Margaretta, I was furious. ‘Get up out of
+your seat,’ I said, in a choking voice. ‘Take that cap
+off your head, and remember that you are in the
+presence of a lady. My grandfather was the late
+Judge Travers of this city, my brother-in-law is
+Mr. Roger Stanisfield, of the Stanisfield Iron Works,
+and my great-uncle is governor of the State. I’ll
+have you put out of office if you say “my dear” to
+me again.’”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta held her breath. Berty’s face was
+flaming at the reminiscence, and her ice-cream was
+slipping to the floor. “What did he say?” she
+gasped.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish you could have seen him, Margaretta.
+He looked like a bumptious old turkey gobbler,
+knocked all of a heap by a small-sized chicken.</p>
+
+<p>“‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, scuttling out of
+his seat, ‘I’m sure, Miss, I didn’t dream who you
+were.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘It isn’t your business to dream,’ I said, still
+furious. ‘When a woman comes to you with a complaint,
+treat her civilly. You’re nothing but the
+paid servant of the city. You don’t own the citizens
+of Riverport!’</p>
+
+<p>“That finished him. ‘I’m going now,’ I said.
+‘I don’t want to sit down. See that you attend to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+that matter without delay,’ and I stalked out, and
+he followed me with his mouth open, and if I didn’t
+know what had happened, I’d say he was standing
+at that door yet gazing up the street after me.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did happen?” asked Margaretta, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“I got my back yard cleaned,” said Berty, drily.
+“Grandma says two policemen came hurrying up
+the street before I got home. They went into some
+of the houses, then women came out, and boys
+swarmed over our fence, and in an hour there wasn’t
+the ghost of a tin can left.”</p>
+
+<p>“Think of it,” said Margaretta, “what wretched
+things for you to be exposed to&mdash;what degradation!”</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t any worse for me than for other women
+and girls,” said Berty, doggedly, “and I’m going
+to find out why River Street isn’t treated as well
+as Grand Avenue.”</p>
+
+<p>“But River Street people are poor, Berty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Suppose they are poor, aren’t they the children
+of the city?”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Berty&mdash;workmen and that sort of people
+can’t have fine houses, and horses and carriages.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not for horses and carriages, not for fine houses
+am I pleading, but for equal rights in comfort and
+decency. Would you take your cold dip every morning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+if you had to cross a frozen yard in winter,
+and a filthy yard in summer for every drop of water
+you use?”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>“Would you have your house kept clean if it
+were so dark that you couldn’t see the dirty corners?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I wouldn’t,” said Margaretta, decidedly,
+“but who owns those dreadful places?”</p>
+
+<p>“You do,” said Berty, shortly.</p>
+
+<p>“I do!” said Margaretta, aghast.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes&mdash;some of them. Roger holds property
+down there in your name. All the rich people in
+the city like to invest in River Street tenements.
+They’re always packed.”</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t have it,” said Margaretta. “Roger
+shall sell out.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t sell&mdash;improve your property, and get
+some of the stain off your soul. Women should
+ask their husbands where they invest their money.
+Good old Mrs. Darlway, the temperance worker,
+owns a building with a saloon in it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, misery!” exclaimed Margaretta, “she
+doesn’t know it, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“No&mdash;tell her.”</p>
+
+<p>“How have you found all this out, Berty?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“I’ve talked to the women.”</p>
+
+<p>“What&mdash;the women of the tin can episode?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, they’re all over that now&mdash;they understand
+Grandma and me&mdash;and what a lot of things
+they’ve told me. Haven’t you always thought that
+policemen were noble, kind creatures, like soldiers?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Margaretta, innocently, “aren’t
+they?”</p>
+
+<p>“They’re the most miserable of miserable sinners.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Berty, surely not all!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ll be generous and leave out half a
+dozen if it will please you. The others all take
+bribes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bribes!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, bribes. Did you ever see a lean policeman,
+Margaretta?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“I never did&mdash;they’re all fat as butter, like the
+sinners in the Psalms. Now, no one need ever tell
+me that the police are honest, till I see them all get
+lean with chasing after evil. Now they just stand
+round corners like green bay-trees, and take bribes.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta was silent for a long time, pondering
+over this new department of thought opened up to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
+her. Then she said, “Why don’t you get the women
+to leave this hateful neighbourhood?”</p>
+
+<p>“How can they?” said her sister, mournfully,
+“their husbands work on the wharves. But I mustn’t
+make you too gloomy. Let me tell you about the
+heart of the Mayor.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were dreadfully sad just after you went
+to River Street,” said Margaretta; “was this the
+trouble?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Berty, lowering her voice, “the woes
+of the poor were sinking into my heart.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor child&mdash;but take your ice-cream. It is
+melting and slipping down your gown, and the dog
+has eaten your cake.”</p>
+
+<p>“Has he?” said Berty, indifferently. “Well,
+dog, take the ice-cream, too. I want to talk&mdash;I came
+out of our house one morning, Margaretta; there
+were three pitiful little children on the door-step.
+‘Children, do get out of this,’ I said. ‘We may have
+callers, and you look like imps.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you had any more callers?” asked Margaretta,
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, the Everests, and Brown-Gardners, and
+Mrs. Darley-James.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Darley-James!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Mrs. Darley-James, that fastidious dame.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+I’ve read that when you get poor, your friends
+forsake you, but ours have overwhelmed us with
+attentions.”</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma is an exceptional woman,” said Margaretta,
+proudly.</p>
+
+<p>“And do you know every one of those women
+noticed the children. Mrs. Darley-James nearly
+fainted. I had to go to the door with her, as we
+have no well-trained maid, but only that stupid
+woman of the neighbourhood. ‘Why, the children
+all look ill,’ Mrs. Darley-James said.</p>
+
+<p>“‘A good many of them are,’ I replied. ‘Two
+died in that yellow house last night.’</p>
+
+<p>“She said, ‘Oh, horrible!’ and got into her
+carriage. Well, to come back to this day that I
+stood on the door-step talking to the children. They
+looked up at me, the dear little impudent things, and
+said, ‘We ain’t goin’ to move one step, missus,
+’cause you gets the sun longer on your side of the
+street than we does.’</p>
+
+<p>“What they said wasn’t remarkable, but I choked
+all up. To think of those pale-faced babies manœuvering
+to sit where they could catch the sun as he
+peeped shyly at them over the roofs of the tall
+houses. I felt as if I should like to have the demon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+of selfishness by the throat and shake him till I
+choked him. Then I flew to the city hall&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“The city hall again?” murmured Margaretta.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes&mdash;what is the city hall but a place of refuge
+for the children of the city? I asked to see the
+Mayor. A young man in the other office said he
+was busy.”</p>
+
+<p>“‘Then I’ll wait,’ I said, and I sat down.</p>
+
+<p>“He kept me sitting there for a solid hour. You
+can imagine that I was pretty well annoyed. At the
+end of that time three fat, prosperous-looking men
+walked from the inner sanctum, and I was invited
+to go in.”</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br />
+<span class="smaller">THE HEART OF THE MAYOR</span></h2>
+
+<p>“Inside was a smaller, but still prosperous-looking
+man sitting like a roly-poly behind a desk, and
+blinking amiably at me with his small eyes.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta smiled, and asked, “Young or old?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, dear, I don’t know&mdash;couldn’t tell his age
+any more than I could tell the age of a plum-pudding.
+His face was fat and red, and he had so little
+hair that it might be either gray or sandy. I’d give
+him any age between fifteen and fifty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, now, I don’t suppose he would be fifteen.”</p>
+
+<p>“He acts like it sometimes,” said Berty, warmly.
+“Years have not taught him grace and experience,
+as they have Grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is his name?”</p>
+
+<p>“Jimson&mdash;Peter Jimson.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me see,” murmured Margaretta, “there is
+a Mrs. Jimson and there are two Misses Jimson who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+are dying to get into our set. I heard the Everests
+laughing about them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Same ones, probably&mdash;well, he knew enough to
+stand up when I went in. I said ‘Good morning’
+and he looked so amiable that I thought he would
+give me not only what I wanted, but the whole
+city besides.</p>
+
+<p>“When we had both sat down, I said, ‘I will
+not take up your time, sir. I have merely come
+to ask you to give the children of the East End a
+park to play in.’</p>
+
+<p>“He lowered his eyes, and began to play with
+a paper-knife. Then he looked up, and said, ‘May
+I ask your name?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘My name is Miss Gravely,’ I told him, ‘and
+I am Mrs. Travers’s granddaughter.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Oh, indeed,’ he replied, ‘and why are you interested
+in the children of the East End?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Because I live there&mdash;on River Street. We
+have lost our money.’</p>
+
+<p>“He looked surprised at the first part of my
+sentence. I think he knew about the last of it.
+Then he said, ‘Have the children asked for a park?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘No, sir,’ I said, ‘they haven’t.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Then why give it to them?’ he inquired, mildly.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Does a good father always wait to have his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+children demand a necessity before he offers it?’
+I replied.</p>
+
+<p>“He smiled, and began to play with the paper-knife
+again.</p>
+
+<p>“‘The children have nowhere to go, sir,’ I went
+on. ‘The mothers drive them from the dirty houses,
+the sailors drive them from the wharves, the truck-men
+drive them from the streets.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘A park might be a good thing,’ he said, cautiously,
+‘but there is no money in the treasury.’</p>
+
+<p>“I felt myself growing hot. ‘No money in the
+treasury, sir, and you can put up a magnificent building
+like this? Some of this money has been taken
+from the children.’</p>
+
+<p>“He said the city had its dignity to maintain.</p>
+
+<p>“‘But there is charity, sir, as well as dignity.’</p>
+
+<p>“He smiled sweetly&mdash;his whole attitude was one
+of indulgent sympathy for a youthful crank, and
+I began to get more and more stirred up.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Sir,’ I said, ‘I think you must be a stepfather.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Sometimes step-parents display more wisdom
+than real parents,’ he said, benevolently.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought of the good stepmother Grandma had
+when a girl. He was right this time, and I was
+wrong, but this didn’t make me more comfortable<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
+in my mind. ‘There is no need of new pavements
+on Broadway, sir,’ I blurted out.</p>
+
+<p>“‘We must make the business part of the city
+attractive,’ he said, ‘or strangers won’t come here.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Strangers must come,’ I said, bitterly, ‘the
+children can die.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘There is no place for a park on River Street,’
+he went on. ‘Property is held there at a high figure.
+No one would sell.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘There is Milligan’s Wharf, sir,’ I replied. ‘It
+is said to be haunted, and no sailors will go there.
+You could make a lovely fenced-in park.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘But there is no money,’ he said, blandly.</p>
+
+<p>“Something came over me. I wasn’t angry on
+my own account. I have plenty of fresh air, for
+I am boating half the time, but dead children’s faces
+swam before me, and I felt like Isaiah and Jeremiah
+rolled in one.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Who made you, unkind man?’ I said, pointing
+a finger at him.</p>
+
+<p>“He wouldn’t tell me, so I told him, ‘God made
+you, and me, and the little children on River Street.
+Do you dare to say that you stand higher in His
+sight than they do?’</p>
+
+<p>“He said no, he wouldn’t, but he was in office
+to save the city’s money, and he was going to do it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“‘Let the city deny itself for the children. You
+know there are things it could do without. If you
+don’t, the blood of the children will be on your
+head.’</p>
+
+<p>“He twisted his shoulders, and said, ‘See here,
+young lady, I’ve been all through this labour and
+capital business. Labour is unthrifty and brainless.
+You’re young and extreme, and don’t understand.
+I’ve done good turns to many a man, and never had
+a word of thanks.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Tell me what you like about grown people,’ I
+said, wildly, ‘I’ll believe anything, but don’t say a
+word against the children.’</p>
+
+<p>“He twisted his shoulders again, and slyly looked
+at his watch.</p>
+
+<p>“I got up. ‘Sir,’ I said, ‘River Street is choked
+with dust in summer, and buried in mud and snow
+in winter. The people have neither decency nor
+comfort in their houses. The citizens put you over
+the city, and you are neglecting some of them.’</p>
+
+<p>“He just beamed at me, he was so glad I was
+going. ‘Young lady,’ he said, ‘you have too much
+heart. I once had, but for years I’ve been trying
+to educate it out of myself. I’ve nearly succeeded.’</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 460px;" id="illus4">
+<img src="images/illus4.jpg" width="460" height="650" alt="" />
+<p class="caption">“‘YOU HAVE TOO MUCH HEART’”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>“‘There must be a little left,’ I said, ‘just a little
+bit. I’ll make it my business to find it. Good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+morning,’ and with this threat I left him and ran,
+ran for River Street.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good for you,” said Margaretta.</p>
+
+<p>“I swept along like a whirlwind. I gathered
+up the children and took them down on Milligan’s
+Wharf.”</p>
+
+<p>“‘Children,’ I said, ‘do you know who the Mayor
+is?’</p>
+
+<p>“They said he was the big man down in the
+city hall.</p>
+
+<p>“‘And how did he get there?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘They votes him in, and they votes him out,’ a
+bootblack said.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Who votes?’ I asked.</p>
+
+<p>“‘All the men in the city.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Do your fathers vote?’”</p>
+
+<p>“‘Course&mdash;ain’t they Riverporters?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Then,’ I said, ‘you belong to the city, and you
+own a little bit of the Mayor, and I have just been
+asking him to give you a park to play in, but he
+won’t.’</p>
+
+<p>“The children didn’t seem to care, so I became
+demagoguish. ‘Boys and girls,’ I said, ‘the children
+of the North End have a park, the children of the
+South End have a park, the children of the West
+End have a park, but the children of the East End<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+aren’t good enough to have a park! What do
+you think ought to be done to the Mayor?’</p>
+
+<p>“A little girl giggled, and said, ‘Duck him in the
+river,’ and a boy said, ‘Tar and feather him.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘No,’ I said, ‘that would not be right, but, come
+now, children, don’t you want a park&mdash;a nice wide
+place with trees, and benches, and swings, and a
+big heap of sand to play in?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Oh, glorymaroo!’ said a little girl, ‘it would
+be just like a Sunday-school picnic.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Yes, just like a picnic every day, and now,
+children, you can have this park if you will do
+as I tell you; will you?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Yes, yes,’ they all shouted, for they had begun
+to get excited. ‘Now listen,’ I went on, and I indicated
+two of the most ragged little creatures present,
+‘go to the city hall, take each other’s hands, and
+when you see the Mayor coming, go up to him
+politely, and say, “Please, Mr. Mayor, will you
+give the children of the East End a park to play
+in?”’</p>
+
+<p>“They ran off like foxes before I could say another
+word, then they rushed back. ‘We don’t
+know that gen’l’man.’</p>
+
+<p>“Here was a dilemma, but a newsboy, with eyes
+like gimlets, got me out of it. ‘See here,’ he said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+‘I can’t wiggle in ’count of business, but I’ll give
+signals. You, here, Biddy Malone, when you see
+me hop on one leg, and kick a stone, you’ll know
+the Mayor’s coming, see?’</p>
+
+<p>“The girls nodded and ran off, and he ran after
+them.</p>
+
+<p>“I mustn’t forget to say I told them to go ask
+their mothers, but, bless you, the street is so narrow
+that the women all knew what I was doing, and
+approved, I could tell by their grins.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Now I want a boy for the Mayor’s house,’
+I said.</p>
+
+<p>“A shock-headed urchin volunteered, and I detailed
+him to sit on the Mayor’s steps till that gentleman
+betook himself home for luncheon, and then
+to rise and say, ‘Please, Mr. Mayor, give the children
+of the East End a park to play in.’</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I sent out about ten couples and six singles.
+They were to station themselves at intervals
+along the unhappy man’s route, and by this time
+the little monkeys had all got so much in the spirit
+of it, that I had hard work to keep the whole crowd
+from going.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta leaned back in her chair and laughed
+quietly. “Well, if you’re not developing.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Put any creature in a tight place,” said Berty,
+indignantly, “and see how it will squirm.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did the Mayor take this persecution?”</p>
+
+<p>“Like an angel, for the first few days. Then I
+began to increase the number of my scouts. They
+met him on his own sidewalk, on the corner as he
+waited for the car, on the steps of his club, till at
+last he began to dodge them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then they got their blood up. You can’t elude
+the children of the streets. I told them not to beg
+or whine, just to say their little formula, then vanish.</p>
+
+<p>“At the end of a week he began to have a hunted
+look. Then he began to peer around street corners,
+then he took to a <i lang="fr">coupé</i>, and then he sprained his
+ankle.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did the children do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Politely waited for him to get well, but he sent
+me a note, saying he would do all he could to get
+them their park, and with his influence that meant,
+of course, that they should have it.”</p>
+
+<p>“How lovely&mdash;weren’t you glad?”</p>
+
+<p>“I danced for joy&mdash;but this puzzled me. I
+hadn’t expected to get at his heart so soon. Who
+had helped me? Grandma said it was the Lord.”</p>
+
+<p>“Aided by Mrs. Jimson, I suspect,” added Margaretta,
+shrewdly. “This explains a mystery. Some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
+time ago, I heard Roger and Tom Everest down
+in the library nearly killing themselves laughing.
+When I asked Roger what it was about, he said
+only a Jimson joke. Then he said, ‘Can’t you keep
+Berty out of the city hall?’”</p>
+
+<p>“I said, ‘What do you mean?’ but he wouldn’t
+tell me any more. I believe that Mr. Jimson’s men
+friends teased him, and his mother and sisters
+brought pressure to bear upon him.”</p>
+
+<p>“They called yesterday,” said Berty, demurely.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, well, and did they mention your park?”</p>
+
+<p>“They were full of it. I went down to the
+wharf with them. I am there half the time. You
+must come, Margaretta, and see the work going on.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where did the Mayor get the money?”</p>
+
+<p>“Squeezed it out of something. He said his
+councillors approved. He won’t see me, though&mdash;carries
+on all the business by correspondence.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta looked anxious, but Berty was unheeding,
+and went on, eloquently. “Isn’t it queer how
+Grandma’s teaching is in our very bones? I didn’t
+know I had it in me to keep even our own family
+together, but I have. I’d fight like a wolf for you
+and Bonny, Margaretta, and now I’m getting so
+I’ll fight like a wolf for our bigger human family.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta’s anxiety passed away, and she smiled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+indulgently. “Very well, sister. It’s noble to fight
+for the right, but don’t get to be that thing that
+men hate so. What is it they call that sort of
+person&mdash;oh, yes, a new woman.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty raised both hands. “I’ll be a new woman,
+or an old woman, or a wild woman, or a tame
+woman, or any kind of a woman, except a lazy
+woman!”</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br />
+<span class="smaller">THE MAYOR’S DILEMMA</span></h2>
+
+<p>Berty was rowing down the river in her pink
+boat with its bands of white.</p>
+
+<p>She was all pink and white, boat, cushions, oars,
+dress, and complexion&mdash;except her hair and eyes,
+which formed a striking and almost startling blue-black
+contrast.</p>
+
+<p>However, Berty was nothing if not original, and
+just now in the late afternoon, when all the other
+boats and canoes were speeding homeward, she was
+hurrying down the river.</p>
+
+<p>She gave a gay greeting to her friends and acquaintances,
+and to many of the fishermen and river-hands
+with whom she had become acquainted since
+she came to live on River Street.</p>
+
+<p>She scarcely knew why she was turning her back
+on her home at this, the time of her evening meal,
+unless it was that she was so full of life and strength
+that she simply could not go into the house.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Grandma would not care. Grandma was too philosophical
+to worry. She would take her knitting
+to the veranda and sit tranquilly awaiting the return
+of her granddaughter. If she got hungry, she
+would take her supper.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="verse">“Grandma is a darling,</div>
+<div class="verse">Grandma is a dear,”</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">chanted Berty, then she stopped. “But I must
+not be selfish. I will just row round Bobbetty’s
+Island and then go home.”</p>
+
+<p>Bobbetty’s Island was a haunted island about the
+size of an extensive building lot. Poor old man
+Bobbetty had lived here alone for so many years
+that he had become crazy at last, and had hanged
+himself to one of the spruce-trees.</p>
+
+<p>Picnic-parties rarely landed here&mdash;the island was
+too small, and the young people did not like its
+reputation. They always went farther down to
+some of the larger islands.</p>
+
+<p>So this little thickly wooded piece of land stood
+alone and solitary, dropped like a bit of driftwood
+in the middle of the river.</p>
+
+<p>Berty was not afraid of the ghost. She was rowing
+gaily round the spruces singing softly to herself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+when she saw something that made her mouth
+close abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>An annoyed-looking man sat on a big flat rock
+close to the water’s edge. He stared at her without
+speaking, and Berty stared at him. This was
+no ghost. Poor old Bobbetty had not appeared in
+the flesh. This was a very living and very irritated
+man, judging from his countenance.</p>
+
+<p>Berty smiled softly to herself, then, without a
+word, she drew near the islet, took her hands from
+the oars, and, pulling her note-book from her pocket,
+coolly scribbled a few lines on a slip of paper:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquote">
+
+<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>:&mdash;If you have lost your boat, which
+I judge from appearances you have done, I am
+willing to give you a lift back to the city.</p>
+
+<p class="center">“Yours truly,</p>
+
+<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Berty Gravely</span>.”</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>Having finished her note, she drew in an oar, put
+the paper flat on the blade, stuck a pin through it
+to make it firm, then extended it to the waiting and
+watching man.</p>
+
+<p>Without a word on his part, he got up from
+his rock seat, and, stretching out a hand, took the
+slip of paper. Then reseating himself with a slight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
+smile, he produced his own note-book, tore a leaf
+from it, and took a stylographic pen from his pocket.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquote">
+
+<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Madam</span>:&mdash;I have indeed lost my boat.
+I accept your offer with gratitude.</p>
+
+<p class="center">“Yours truly,</p>
+
+<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Peter Jimson</span>.”</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>The oar was still resting on the rocks. He pinned
+his answer to it, saw Berty draw it in, read it, and
+then she brought her boat round for him.</p>
+
+<p>Still without speaking he stepped in, somewhat
+clumsily, seated himself, and mopped his perspiring
+face.</p>
+
+<p>They were not moving, and he looked up. Berty
+had dropped the oars, and had calmly seated herself
+on the stern cushions. She had no intention of
+rowing with a man in the boat.</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor set to work, while Berty lounged on
+her seat and studied the shell-like tints of the sky.
+Suddenly she heard a slight sound, and brought
+her gaze down to the river.</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor was laughing&mdash;trying not to do so,
+but slowly and gradually giving way and shaking
+all over like a bowl of jelly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She would not ask him what amused him, and
+presently he said, “Excuse me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why?” asked Berty, with preternatural gravity.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, well,” he stuttered, “I don’t know, but I
+guess it isn’t good manners for one person to laugh
+when the other isn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Laugh on,” said Berty, benevolently, “the whole
+river is before you.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor did laugh on, and rowed at the same
+time, until at last he was obliged to take his hands
+from the oars, and get out his handkerchief to wipe
+his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Berty’s face was hidden from him. She had
+picked up a huge illustrated paper from the bottom
+of the boat, and her whole head was concealed by
+it. But the paper was shaking, and he had an idea
+that she, too, was laughing.</p>
+
+<p>His suspicion was correct, for presently the paper
+dropped, and he saw that his companion was in a
+convulsion of girlish laughter.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! oh! oh!” she cried, taking away the handkerchief
+that she had been stuffing in her mouth,
+“it is too funny. You hate the sight of me, and
+write notes to avoid me, and then go lose your boat
+on a desert island, and have to be rescued by me.
+Oh! it is too delicious!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The Mayor thought he could laugh, but his laughter
+was nothing to this ecstasy of youthful enjoyment,
+and his harsh, thick tones gradually died
+away, while he listened delightedly to this rippling
+outflow from pretty lips.</p>
+
+<p>“It is comical,” he said, after a time, when she
+had somewhat calmed down. “I guess I ought to
+apologize to you. I have treated you mean. But
+you got a corner on me.”</p>
+
+<p>“A corner in street urchins,” said Berty, gaspingly;
+“well, I’m obliged to you for getting the
+park, but I must say I wish you would give the
+work some of your personal superintendence.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been down,” he said, unguardedly.</p>
+
+<p>“When?” asked Berty, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>“At night,” he said, with some confusion. “I
+slip down after I know you’ve gone to bed.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you think the workmen are getting
+on?” she asked, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Fairly well&mdash;what do you want that high fence
+for?”</p>
+
+<p>“For games&mdash;wall games. I wish we could have
+baths at the end of the wharf&mdash;public baths. The
+boys can go down to the river, but the women and
+children have no chance. Poor souls, they suffer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
+You would not like to be cut off from your daily
+bath, would you, sir?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, no,” replied the Mayor, cautiously, “I
+don’t suppose I would.”</p>
+
+<p>“The city ought to build baths,” said Berty,
+warmly.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s private charity,” said the Mayor.</p>
+
+<p>“Private charity, my dear sir! You don’t know
+those River Street people. They have as much pride
+as you have. What the city does for them is all
+right&mdash;what private citizens do for them publicly,
+and with all sorts of ridiculous restrictions, angers
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor looked longingly over his shoulder
+toward the city.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, pardon me,” said Berty, hurriedly. “I
+shouldn’t talk business to you in my own boat when
+you can’t escape me. Pray tell me of your adventures
+this afternoon. Was your boat stolen?”</p>
+
+<p>“Stolen, no&mdash;it was my own carelessness. You
+know I’m driven to death with business, and if I
+take a friend out with me he’s got an axe to grind
+for some one, so I steal off alone whenever I can.
+Nobody goes to that island, and it’s a fine place to
+read or snooze, but to-day I neglected to secure my
+boat, and away it went.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“And nobody came by?”</p>
+
+<p>“Lots of people, I suppose, but I was asleep until
+just before you came.”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t the river delicious?” said Berty, dreamily.</p>
+
+<p>“I like it well enough,” said Mr. Jimson, letting
+unappreciative eyes wander over the blue water and
+the smiling landscape beyond. “It’s a great place
+to plan your business.”</p>
+
+<p>“Business, business, business,” murmured the
+girl, “it seems sacrilege to mention that word here.”</p>
+
+<p>“If it weren’t for business of various kinds, there
+wouldn’t be any Riverport,” said the man, with a
+backward nod of his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Poor old Riverport!” said Berty; “poor,
+sordid, material old Riverport!”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor braced his feet harder and stared at
+her. Then he said, “If it weren’t for business,
+most of us would go under.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but we needn’t be holding it up all the
+time, and bowing down to it, and worshipping, and
+prostrating our souls before it, till we haven’t any
+spirit or beauty left.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor stared at her again. Then he said,
+“You don’t seem as silly as most girls.”</p>
+
+<p>This to Berty was a challenge. Her eyes sparkled
+wickedly, and from that instant till they reached the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+city she poured out a babble of girlish nonsense that
+completely bewildered the plain man before her.</p>
+
+<p>“Will you let me off at the city wharf?” he asked,
+at last, when she had paused to take breath.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly,” said Berty, “after you row me
+home.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, excuse me,” he said, confusedly. “I am
+so little in ladies’ society that I don’t know how to
+act.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ve got a tiny wharf at the end of our back
+yard,” said Berty. “You’ll know it because all
+the wharves round are black and dingy, but ours
+is painted pink and white. There it is&mdash;look ahead
+and you’ll see.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor looked, and soon the little boat was
+gliding toward the gay flight of steps.</p>
+
+<p>“Now will you tie her up and come in through
+the house?” asked Berty, politely.</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor did as he was requested, and, stepping
+ashore, curiously followed his guide up through the
+tidy back yard to the big old-fashioned house that
+seemed to peer with its small eyes of windows far
+out over the river.</p>
+
+<p>On the ground floor were a kitchen and pantry
+and several good-sized rooms that had been used for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+servants’ quarters in the first, palmy days of the
+old mansion.</p>
+
+<p>“A pity this neighbourhood was given up to poor
+people,” said the Mayor, as he tramped up a narrow,
+dark stairway behind his guide.</p>
+
+<p>“A blessing that they have something so lovely as
+this river view,” said Berty, quickly. “I can’t tell
+you how we appreciate it after our limited outlook
+from Grand Avenue. Here is our dining-room,” and
+she threw open the door of a large room at the
+back of the house.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jimson stepped in somewhat awkwardly. The
+room was plainly furnished, but the small windows
+were open, and also a glass door leading to a veranda,
+where a table was prepared for the evening meal.
+He could see a white cloth, and numerous dishes
+covered and uncovered.</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma,” said Berty, “here is Mr. Jimson&mdash;you
+remember hearing me speak of him.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jimson, filled with curiosity, turned to the
+composed little old lady who came in from the
+veranda and shook hands with him. This was
+Madam Travers. He had been familiar with her
+face for years, but she never before had spoken to
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“Will you stay and have a cup of tea with my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+granddaughter and me?” she asked him, when he
+looked uncomfortably toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>His gaze went again to the table. A rising breeze
+had just brushed aside the napkin covering a pitcher.</p>
+
+<p>“Is that a jug of buttermilk I see?” he asked,
+wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>“It is,” said the old lady, kindly.</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’ll stay,” he said, and he dropped his hat
+on a chair.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma and Berty both smiled, and he smiled
+himself, and, looking longingly toward the table,
+said, “I can’t get it at home, and in the restaurants
+it is poor stuff.”</p>
+
+<p>“And do you like curds and cream?” asked
+Grandma, leading the way to the table.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, ma’am!” he said, vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>“And sage cheese, and corn-cake, and crullers?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, you take me back to my grandfather’s
+farm in the country,” he replied, squeezing himself
+into the seat indicated.</p>
+
+<p>“My granddaughter and I are very fond of simple
+dishes,” said Grandma. “Now I’ll ask a blessing
+on this food, and then, Berty, you must give Mr.
+Jimson some buttermilk. I see he is very thirsty.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jimson was an exceedingly happy man. He
+had pumpkin pie, and cold ham, and chicken, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+addition to the other dishes he liked, and to wind
+up with, a cup of hot tea.</p>
+
+<p>“This is first-class tea,” he said, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>“It came from China,” said Grandma, “a present
+from a Chinese official to my late husband. I will
+show you some of the stalks with the leaves on
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you look pretty cozy here,” said the
+Mayor, after he had finished his meal, and sat gazing
+out on the river. “I wish I could stay, but
+I’ve got a meeting.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come some other time,” said Grandma, graciously.</p>
+
+<p>“I’d like to,” he said, abruptly. “I rarely go
+out, unless it’s to a big dinner which I hate, and
+sometimes you get tired of your own house&mdash;though
+I’ve got a good mother and sisters,” he
+added, hastily.</p>
+
+<p>“I have no doubt of that,” said Grandma. “They
+were kind enough to call on us.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have a good granddaughter,” he said, with
+a curious expression, as he looked down into the
+back yard where Berty had gone to feed some white
+pigeons, “but,” he added, “she is a puzzler sometimes.
+I expect she hates me.”</p>
+
+<p>“She does not hate any one,” said Grandma,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+softly. “She is young and overzealous at times,
+and will heartily scold the latest one to incur her
+displeasure, but she has a loving heart.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s fine to be young,” said the Mayor, with a
+sigh; “good-night, madam. I’ve enjoyed my visit.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come again some other time,” said Grandma,
+with quaint, old-fashioned courtesy, “we shall always
+be glad to see you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will, madam,” said the Mayor, and he gripped
+her hand till it ached. Then he took his hat, and
+trotted nimbly away.</p>
+
+<p>“Has he gone?” asked Berty, coming into the
+room a few minutes later.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Grandma.</p>
+
+<p>The girl’s eyes were dancing. She was longing
+to make fun of him, but her grandmother, she knew,
+was inexorable. No one should ever ridicule in her
+presence the guest who had broken her bread and
+eaten her salt.</p>
+
+<p>Yet Berty must say something. “Grandma,” she
+remarked, softly, “it isn’t safe to cut any one, is
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>“To cut any one?” repeated the old lady.</p>
+
+<p>“To cut the acquaintance of any one. For instance&mdash;you
+hate a person, you stop speaking to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
+that person. You get into a scrape, that person is
+the only one who can help you out.”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>“Surely,” said Berty, persuasively, “in the course
+of your long life, you must have often noticed it is
+not only mean, but it is bad policy to break abruptly
+with any one without just cause?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Grandma, quietly, “I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“Any further remarks to make?” inquired Berty,
+after a long pause.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma’s dimple slowly crept into view.</p>
+
+<p>Berty laughed, kissed her, and ran off to bed,
+saying, as she did so, “I wonder whether your new
+admirer will ever call again?”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma tranquilly rolled up her knitting and
+followed her.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br />
+<span class="smaller">A GROUNDLESS SUSPICION</span></h2>
+
+<p>Grandma was on the veranda, knitting, knitting,
+always knitting.</p>
+
+<p>“What a bird’s perch this is,” said some one
+suddenly, behind her.</p>
+
+<p>She turned round. Grandson Roger was trying
+to squeeze his tall frame between the equally tall
+frame of an old-fashioned rocking-chair and the
+veranda railing.</p>
+
+<p>“How you must miss your big veranda on Grand
+Avenue,” he said, coming to sit beside her.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t,” said Grandma, tranquilly. “It’s wonderful
+how one gets used to things. Berty and I
+used to enjoy our roomy veranda, but we have
+adapted ourselves to this one, and never feel like
+complaining.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a wonderful thing&mdash;that power of adaptation,”
+said the young man, soberly, “and I have a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+theory that the primitive in us likes to return to small
+quarters and simplicity. For instance, I am never
+so happy as when I leave my large house and go
+to live in my hunting-camp.”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma smiled, and took up her knitting again.</p>
+
+<p>Roger, who had comfortably settled himself in
+the corner beside her, frowned slightly. “Grandma,
+the girls tell me that you are selling these stockings
+you knit.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, why not?” she asked, quietly.</p>
+
+<p>“But there is no need of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“They bring a good price. You cannot buy
+home-knit silk stockings everywhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it is drudgery for you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I enjoy it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, if you enjoy it. But you won’t persist
+if it tires you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Roger.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who buys the stockings?” he asked, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“I sell them among my friends. Mrs. Darley-James
+buys the most of them.”</p>
+
+<p>His face grew red. “You supply stockings to
+her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should I not?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know why, but it makes me ‘mad,’ as
+Berty says.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Didn’t you supply her husband with that new
+iron railing for his garden?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, ma’am, I did, and it’s a good one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if you sell the husband a garden railing,
+why shouldn’t I sell the wife a pair of stockings?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” he said, with a laugh. “I suppose
+it’s the nonsensical notion about one kind of
+labour being degrading, and another ennobling.
+We’re all simpletons, anyway&mdash;we human beings.
+Where is Berty this evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“Listen,” said Grandma, putting up a hand.</p>
+
+<p>Down in the back yard was a sound of hammering.</p>
+
+<p>Roger leaned over the railing. “What under the
+sun is she doing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Puttering over those pigeons&mdash;making new
+boxes for them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who is with her? I see a man’s back.”</p>
+
+<p>“The Mayor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Jimson?”&mdash;and Roger fell back in his seat
+with a disturbed air.</p>
+
+<p>“The same,” said Grandma, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>Roger wrinkled his forehead. “That reminds
+me&mdash;came to see you partly about that. It seems
+Berty and the Mayor go about a good deal together.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know?” asked Grandma, shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I know, people notice them.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Some one has been complaining to you,” said
+Grandma. “Who was it?”</p>
+
+<p>Roger smiled. “Well, to tell the truth, Tom
+Everest was grumbling. You know he has been
+just like a brother to Berty and Margaretta.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know,” said Grandma, tranquilly. “I
+just wanted to find out whether there was any public
+gossip about Berty’s friendship for the Mayor.
+Friendly inquiry on the part of an old playmate
+is another matter.”</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot imagine Berty giving any one any
+occasion for gossip,” said Roger, proudly.</p>
+
+<p>“Nor I&mdash;well, go on, what did Tom say?”</p>
+
+<p>“He said, ‘What does this mean, Stanisfield?
+Berty is for ever on the river with the Mayor, he
+is for ever dangling about her house, and that park
+she is getting in shape for the children. If I were
+you I’d put a word in Mrs. Travers’s ear. Don’t
+speak to Berty.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Tom!” said Grandma.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s jealous, I suppose,” said Roger. “Still, if
+he talks, some one else may talk. What does it
+mean that Jimson comes here so much? You don’t
+suppose he has taken a fancy to Berty?”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma smiled. “Yes, I do, a strong and uncommon
+fancy. He is perfectly fascinated by her.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Roger’s jaw fell, and he smote with his fist on
+the arm of the rocking-chair. “Get rid of him,
+Grandma. Don’t have him round.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not&mdash;he’s an honourable man.”</p>
+
+<p>“But not for Berty&mdash;you don’t know, Grandma.
+He’s all right morally, but he’s vulgar&mdash;none of
+our set go with him.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t find him unbearably vulgar. He seems
+a kind-hearted man, but I am unintentionally deceiving
+you. He is over forty years old, Roger.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, men of forty, and men of fifty, fancy girls
+of half their age.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fancy them, yes, but he has no intention of
+falling in love with Berty. He is simply charmed
+with her as a companion.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a dangerous companionship,” grumbled
+Roger.</p>
+
+<p>“Not so&mdash;they quarrel horribly,” and Grandma
+laughed enjoyably over some reminiscences.</p>
+
+<p>“Quarrel, do they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Roger&mdash;my theory is that that man is too
+hard worked. Fagged out when he leaves his office,
+he is beset by petitioners for this thing and that
+thing. At home I fancy he has little peace, for
+his mother and sisters are ambitious socially, and
+urge him to attend various functions for which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
+has no heart. Unexpectedly he has found a place
+of refuge here, and a congenial playfellow in Berty.
+I think he really has to put a restraint upon himself
+to keep from coming oftener.”</p>
+
+<p>“This is Jimson in a new light,” said Roger,
+listening attentively.</p>
+
+<p>“In River Street,” continued Grandma, “he is
+free. No one comes to find him here. He has
+plenty of excitement and amusement if Berty is
+about. If she is out, he sits and talks to me by
+the hour.”</p>
+
+<p>“To you&mdash;” said Roger. “I should not think
+he would have anything in common with a lady
+like you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, Roger, there is beauty in every human soul,”
+said the little old lady, eloquently. “The trouble
+is we are all too much taken up with externals. There
+is something pathetic to me about this man. Hard-working,
+ambitious, longing for congenial companionship,
+not knowing just where to get it, he
+keeps on at his daily treadmill. He has got to be
+a kind of machine, and he has tried to stifle the
+spirit within him. Berty, with her youth and freshness,
+has, in some way or other, the knack of putting
+her finger on some sensitive nerve that responds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>
+easily to her touch. He is becoming quite interested
+in what she is interested in.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger was staring at her in great amusement.
+“You talk well, Grandma, and at unusual length
+for you, but a man convinced against his will, you
+know&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The old lady smiled sweetly at him, smiled with
+the patience of one who is willing to wait a long
+time in order to be understood. Then knitting steadily
+without looking at her work, she gazed far out
+over the beautiful river.</p>
+
+<p>It was very wide just here, and, now that evening
+was falling, they could barely distinguish the fields
+and white farmhouses on the other side. The stars
+were coming out one by one&mdash;those “beautiful
+seeds sown in the field of the sky.” Roger could
+see the old lady’s lips moving. She was probably
+repeating some favourite passages of Scripture.
+What a good woman she was. What a help to him,
+and what a valuable supplement to his own mother,
+who was a woman of another type.</p>
+
+<p>His eyes grew moist, and for a long time he sat
+gazing with her at the darkening yet increasingly
+beautiful sky and river.</p>
+
+<p>The hammering went on below, until Berty’s
+voice suddenly rang out. “We’ll have to stop, Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+Jimson. It’s getting too dark to see where to put
+the nails.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll come help you to-morrow evening,” replied
+the Mayor, in his thick, good-natured voice.</p>
+
+<p>“No, thank you. I won’t trouble you. I’ll get
+a carpenter. You’ve been too good already.”</p>
+
+<p>“I like to do it. You’ve no idea how much I enjoy
+puttering round a house,” replied Mr. Jimson. “I
+never get a chance at home.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;aren’t there things to do about your
+house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but if I get at a thing I’m sure to be
+interrupted, and then my mother doesn’t like to
+see me carpentering.”</p>
+
+<p>“You ought to have a house of your own,” said
+Berty, decidedly. “It is the duty of every man to
+marry and bring up a family and to keep it together.
+That helps the Union, but if you have no family
+you can’t keep it together, and you are an unworthy
+son of this great republic.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s a fact,” replied the Mayor. “I guess
+we’ll have a little talk about it. I’ll just sit down
+here on this bench a minute to rest. I’m quite
+blown.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty made no response, or, if she did, it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
+in such a low tone that the occupants of the veranda
+could not hear, and presently the Mayor went on.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I’ve often thought of getting married. A
+man ought to, before he gets too old. How old
+would you take me to be?”</p>
+
+<p>“About fifty,” came promptly, in Berty’s clear
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>Her companion was evidently annoyed, for it
+was some time before he spoke, and then he said,
+briefly, “Fifty!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Berty, kindly, “I said <em>about</em> fifty.
+I dare say you’re not much more than forty.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose forty seems like dead old age to you?”
+queried the Mayor, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes&mdash;it seems far off like the other side
+of the river,” replied the girl.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’m forty-five,” said the Mayor.</p>
+
+<p>“Forty-five,” repeated Berty, musingly, “just
+think of it! You seem quite young in your ways.”</p>
+
+<p>“Young&mdash;I dare say I feel as young as you,”
+he replied. “I wish you were a bit older.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why?” asked Berty, innocently.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, I don’t know why,” he replied, with
+sudden sheepishness.</p>
+
+<p>Roger glanced at Grandma. It was not like her
+to play eavesdropper.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But dear Grandma was not hearing a word of
+what was being said below. Her knitting had fallen
+from her hand, her head had dropped forward, her
+cheeks were gently puffing in and out. She was
+quietly and unmistakably asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Roger smiled, and kept on listening. He had
+no scruples on his own account, and he wanted his
+question answered. Why was the Mayor dangling
+about Berty?</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jimson was still on the subject of matrimony.
+The quiet evening, the, as he supposed, secluded
+spot, Berty’s amiability, all tended to excite confidence
+in him.</p>
+
+<p>In response to something he had said, Berty was
+remarking, with gentle severity, “I should think
+you would talk this matter over with your mother
+rather than with me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” Mr. Jimson said, thoughtfully, “it’s queer
+how you can tell things to strangers, easier than
+to your mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“<em>I</em> couldn’t,” said Berty, promptly. “If I were
+thinking of getting married, I’d ask Grandma to
+advise me. She’s had <em>so</em> much experience. She
+chose Roger of all Margaretta’s admirers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she, now?” said the Mayor, in admiration.
+“That was a first-class choice.” Then he asked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+insinuatingly, “And have you ever consulted her
+for yourself?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course not&mdash;not yet. It’s too soon.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose it is,” said Mr. Jimson, in a disappointed
+voice, “and, as I said before, I wish you
+were ten years older.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t mean to say that you would think of
+me for yourself?” asked Berty, in a sudden, joyful
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I would,” he replied, boldly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, thank you, thank you,” said the girl, gaily;
+“that’s my first proposal, or, rather, I suppose it
+isn’t a <i>bona fide</i> proposal. It’s just a hint. Still
+it counts. I’ve really got out into life. Margaretta
+has always kept me down where gentlemen were
+concerned. Older sisters have to, you know. I’ll
+be just dreadfully interested in you after this. Do
+let me pick you out a wife.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t know about that,” said the Mayor,
+guardedly.</p>
+
+<p>“Just tell me what you want,” continued Berty.
+“I know lots of girls, but I suppose you will want
+a woman. I know some of them, too&mdash;must she
+be light or dark?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jimson looked at Berty. “Black hair.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Very well&mdash;black hair to start with. Not tall,
+but short, I suppose.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why short?” asked the Mayor, suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you’re not dreadfully tall for a man, you
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor seemed to be sulking for some time.
+Then he said, “I like a good-sized woman.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tall and black-haired,” said Berty, in a businesslike
+way. “Now, do you want a quiet woman, or
+a lively woman&mdash;a social woman, or a home
+body?”</p>
+
+<p>“None of your rattlers for me,” said the man,
+hastily. “I want a quiet tongue, good manners,
+and no wasteful habits.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you want to entertain much?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, law, no!” said her companion, wearily.
+“Upon my word, I think a deaf and dumb wife
+would suit me best. Then she couldn’t go to parties
+and drag me with her&mdash;Look here, there’s a woman
+I’ve seen sometimes when I go to church with
+my mother, that I’ve often thought was a nice-looking
+kind of person. You’d be sure to know her,
+for one of her brothers is a great friend of your
+brother-in-law.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who is she?” asked Berty, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Her companion seemed to have some hesitation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
+about mentioning the name. At last he said,
+“Mother says her first name is Selina.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not Selina Everest&mdash;don’t tell me that,” said
+Berty, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that’s her name.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty groaned. “And is she the only woman you
+have in your mind?”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s the only one I can think of now as cutting
+any kind of a figure before me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Selina Everest!” groaned Berty again. “Why
+don’t you say the Queen of England and be done
+with it? She’s the most exclusive of our ridiculously
+exclusive set. She is an aristocrat to her finger-tips.
+She wouldn’t look at you&mdash;that is, I don’t think&mdash;she
+probably wouldn’t&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“How old is she?” asked the Mayor, breaking
+in upon her.</p>
+
+<p>“Let me see&mdash;Tom, her brother, is six years
+older than I am, Walter is twenty-seven, Jim is
+thirty, Maude is older than he is, and Augustus is
+older than that. Oh, Miss Everest must be nearly
+forty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then she’ll jump at a chance to marry,” said
+the Mayor, coolly. “Has she a good temper?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Berty, feebly, “but&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“But what? Does she snap sometimes?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“No, no, she is always ladylike, but I am just sure
+she wouldn’t marry you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why are you so sure,” asked the Mayor, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“Because&mdash;because&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Am I a red Indian or a cowboy?” asked Mr.
+Jimson, indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>“No, but&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Is she a strong girl?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, she is often in bed&mdash;I don’t really think&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Airs, probably,” said her companion. “Has
+been brought up soft. I’d break her of that.”</p>
+
+<p>“She wouldn’t marry you,” said Berty, desperately.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t be too sure of that,” and Mr. Jimson’s
+voice sounded angry to the man on the veranda
+above.</p>
+
+<p>“I tell you she wouldn’t. I’ve heard her just
+rave against people who don’t do things just as
+she does. If you ate with your knife, she’d think
+you were dust beneath her feet.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor was silent.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, if you wore carpet slippers in the parlour,
+or a dressing-gown, or went about the house in
+your shirt-sleeves, she’d have a fit.”</p>
+
+<p>“And who does all these things?” asked the
+Mayor, sneeringly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“You do!” replied Berty, stung into impertinence.
+“They say you received a delegation of
+clergymen in your slippers and dressing-gown.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s a lie,” he said, promptly, “got up by
+enemies.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you don’t talk elegantly,” said Berty,
+wildly. “Miss Everest couldn’t stand that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who says I ain’t elegant?” asked the Mayor,
+fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>“I do,” replied his companion. “You say ‘dry’
+for thirsty, and ‘I ain’t’ for I am not, and ‘git’
+for get, and&mdash;and lots of other things, and you
+don’t move gracefully. Miss Everest likes tall, thin
+men. I once heard her say so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is it my fault that I’m short?” roared the
+Mayor. “I didn’t make myself.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger, convulsed with amusement on the veranda
+above, saw with regret that Grandma was waking
+up.</p>
+
+<p>“Quarrelling again!” she murmured, moving her
+head about restlessly. “Send him home, Berty.
+Mr. Jimson, don’t mind her.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger had missed something, for Berty was now
+giving the Mayor a terrible scolding. “I think
+you are a horrid, deceitful man. You come here
+with your mind all made up about a certain woman.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
+You pretend to like me, then draw me out about the
+one you like. I’ll never speak to you again.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger hung entranced over the railing. The back
+gate had just slammed on Mr. Jimson, and Berty
+was pouring out a flood of eloquent endearment
+on the pigeons.</p>
+
+<p>Roger ran down the stairs with a broad smile on
+his face. There was no danger of sentimental nonsense
+between these two people.</p>
+
+<p>“Hello, Berty,” he said, “want some help with
+your pidgie widgies?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Roger,” she replied, disconsolately, “I
+can’t get the boxes up to-night. Still, you might
+help me cover them some more. I’m dreadfully
+afraid of rats getting at them. There are legions
+of them down here.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve had some one here, haven’t you?” said
+Roger, hypocritically.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that miserable Mayor, but he’s so disagreeable
+that I shan’t let him help me finish. I’m never
+going to speak to him again. He’s too mean to live.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll come and help you,” said Roger, bending
+over the pigeons to conceal his face. “Where are
+these boxes going in the meantime?”</p>
+
+<p>“Up on top of those barrels. Aren’t those fan-tails<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+sweet? Oh, you lubbie dubbies, Berty loves you
+better than the hateful old Mayor.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger laughed outright, helped his young sister-in-law
+at the same time, and wondered whether the
+breach between her and her new friend would be
+final.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br />
+<span class="smaller">A PROPOSED SUPPER-PARTY</span></h2>
+
+<p>Two mornings later, Roger had come down to
+River Street with a basket of green stuff for
+Grandma.</p>
+
+<p>One result of his wife’s new economy was that
+he had turned errand-boy. He grumbled a little
+about it, but Margaretta was inexorable.</p>
+
+<p>“You want me to save,” she said. “I’m going
+to do it. You can just as well run down to River
+Street before you go to your office, as for me to give
+a boy ten cents for doing it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ten cents is a paltry sum.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but ten tens are not paltry, and if you save
+ten cents twenty times you have two dollars. Now
+trot along!” and Roger always trotted, smiling as
+he went.</p>
+
+<p>On this particular morning, Grandma, after gratefully
+receiving the basket, stood turning over the
+crisp, green lettuce, the parsley, beets, and lovely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>
+flowers with her slender fingers, when Berty appeared
+fresh and rosy.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Roger, dear,” she cried, flying to her writing-desk
+when she saw him, “wait a moment and
+take a note to the city hall, will you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Miss Lobbyist,” said her brother-in-law,
+good-naturedly.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, this is to the Mayor,” he said, in pretended
+surprise, when she handed him her note.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, why not?” asked Berty, opening her eyes
+wide.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought you had done with him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that quarrel,” said Berty, carelessly, “that
+was two whole days ago. I’ve had two bouquets,
+and a bag of some new kind of feed for the pigeons
+from him since then. I’m doing him a favour now.
+There’s some one coming here to supper to-night that
+he’d like to meet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who is it?” asked Roger, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Selina Everest.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shouldn’t think he’d be her style,” said the
+young man, guilelessly.</p>
+
+<p>“He isn’t,” sighed Berty, “but he likes her, and
+I’m bound to give them a chance to meet. I hope
+she won’t snub him.”</p>
+
+<p>“She is too much of a lady to do that,” said Roger.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“You’re right,” replied Berty, but she sighed
+again.</p>
+
+<p>Roger’s eyes sparkled. “Grandma,” he said,
+abruptly turning to her, “it is some time since Margaretta
+and I have had a meal in your house. Can’t
+you invite us, too? We both like Selina.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, come by all means,” said the little
+old lady.</p>
+
+<p>Berty looked doubtful and did not second the invitation.</p>
+
+<p>“What time is supper?” asked Roger.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma looked at Berty. “I let her have her
+own way about the meals. Breakfast is at eight,
+dinner at twelve&mdash;the universal hour on this street&mdash;high
+tea at six, supper is a movable feast&mdash;what
+time to-night, granddaughter?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ten,” said Berty, promptly, “but we’ll sit on
+the veranda first and talk. Some one must keep at
+the piano all the time, playing dreamy music.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said Roger, promptly, “we’ll be
+here.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty followed him to the street door. “You’ll be
+nice to the Mayor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nice!&mdash;I guess so.”</p>
+
+<p>“But don’t be too nice&mdash;don’t make fun of
+him.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Berty!” he said, reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you wouldn’t make fun of him openly,” she
+said, with sudden wrath, “but I know that look
+in your eyes,” and with a decided tap on the back
+she sent him out the front door.</p>
+
+<p>Roger, chuckling with delight as he made his way
+to the iron works, ran into Tom Everest.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you laughing at?” asked Tom, with
+his own eyes shining.</p>
+
+<p>“Can’t tell,” said Roger.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll bet it was some joke about Berty,” remarked
+Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Berty! Berty!” exclaimed his friend, “all
+the world is thinking Berty, and dreaming Berty,
+and seeing Berty. You’re a crank, Everest.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was Berty,” said Tom, decidedly. “Come,
+now, out with it.”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s going to have a party to-night,” said
+Roger, exploding with laughter; “your sister Selina
+and the Mayor, my wife and I.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going too,” said Tom, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>Roger caught him by the shoulder. “Man, if
+I find you there to-night, I’ll shoot you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going,” said Tom, and he backed into his
+insurance office, leaving Roger wildly waving his
+market-basket at him from the street.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A few hours later, Roger looked up at his wife
+as he sat at the lunch-table, and said, “Don’t you
+want to go to Grandma’s this evening?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, dear, if you do,” she replied, holding out his
+cup of bouillon for him.</p>
+
+<p>At luncheon they were obliged to wait on themselves,
+and Roger vowed that he liked it.</p>
+
+<p>“All right, dear,” he said, as he carefully took
+the hot bouillon from her, “we’ll go.”</p>
+
+<p>“After dinner, I suppose?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Any one else going?” asked Margaretta.</p>
+
+<p>“She expects some others&mdash;Selina Everest for
+one.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s nice,” said Margaretta, emphatically.</p>
+
+<p>“And the Mayor,” added Roger.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” and Margaretta drew a long breath. “I
+have never met him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you want to?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes,” she said, lingeringly.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well. I’ll come home a bit early.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta, brimming over with satisfaction,
+gazed affectionately at him. “Roger, you look ten
+years younger than you did four weeks ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got the burden of foreboding off my shoulders,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+he said, giving them a slight shake as he
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>“A burden that will never be placed there again,
+I hope.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger smiled, and, looking at her happy face, said,
+earnestly, “Margaretta, every day of my life I thank
+God for the good fortune that made you my partner
+for life.”</p>
+
+<p>While Roger was talking to his wife, Berty was
+having a somewhat excited interview with the
+Mayor.</p>
+
+<p>“Just grabbed ten minutes from lunch-hour,” he
+said, “to run up and thank you for your invitation
+for to-night&mdash;now what shall I wear? Dress
+suit?”</p>
+
+<p>Berty looked him over. No young girl going to
+her first ball ever waited a reply with more anxiety
+than he did.</p>
+
+<p>“Let me see,” she said, thoughtfully. “We shall
+be sitting out-of-doors. I think I would not wear
+evening dress. Have you got a nice dark suit?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, just got one from the tailor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good&mdash;put that on.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what kind of a tie?” he asked, feverishly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I don’t know&mdash;white, I think. That is
+cool and nice for summer.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Can’t I wear red?” he asked, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, yes, a certain shade, but you’d have to
+be very particular. Why do you wish red?”</p>
+
+<p>“I&mdash;I&mdash;a woman once told me I looked well
+in red,” he said, sheepishly.</p>
+
+<p>Berty surveyed him as an indulgent mother might
+survey a child.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, wear red. It is a great thing to have
+something on that you feel at ease in. But, as I
+say, you must be very particular about the shade.
+I’ll run up-stairs and get a piece of silk, and do you
+try to match it,” and she darted away.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jimson occupied the time while she was gone
+in walking about the room, nervously mopping his
+face, and staring out the window at the carriage
+waiting for him.</p>
+
+<p>“Here it is,” exclaimed Berty, running back, “the
+precise shade. Now <em>do</em> be particular.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re real good,” he replied, gratefully, and,
+pocketing the scrap, he was hurrying away, when he
+turned back. “What time shall I come? Can’t I
+get here before the others?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, do,” replied Berty, “come about half-past
+seven.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right&mdash;thank you,” and he rushed away.</p>
+
+<p>Berty followed him to the front door. “Mr. Jimson,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+she called, when his hand was on the door-knob.</p>
+
+<p>“Hello!” and he turned back.</p>
+
+<p>“You won’t be offended with me if I say something?”
+she replied, hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Not a bit of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if I were you, I wouldn’t talk too much
+to-night. Dignified reserve impresses women.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” he said, good-naturedly. “I’m safe
+enough, if I don’t get rattled. Then I’m apt to
+make a fool of myself and gabble. Sometimes in
+making a speech I can’t wind up, even if I see people
+looking mad enough to kill me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t do that!” exclaimed Berty. “Oh, don’t
+be long-winded. Just sit and watch Miss Everest.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said the Mayor, “till this evening!”
+and he ran down the steps.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, dear,” murmured Berty, as she went up-stairs,
+“I’m dreadfully in doubt about this party.
+I wish Margaretta and Roger weren’t coming. The
+Mayor has been working himself into a state over
+Miss Everest. If he doesn’t please her he’ll blame
+me. Oh, dear!”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter, granddaughter?” asked a
+cheery voice.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m in trouble, Grandma. The Mayor likes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+Miss Everest. That’s why I’m asking him here
+to meet her, but I’m afraid things won’t go right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor little matchmaker,” said Grandma, soothingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Did I do right, Grandma? I would have consulted
+you before, but I didn’t like to give his secret
+away.”</p>
+
+<p>“You did what a kind heart would prompt you
+to do. Don’t worry&mdash;I will help you with your
+party.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you?&mdash;oh, that is lovely. Everything will
+go right!” and she threw both arms round her
+grandmother’s neck.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br />
+<span class="smaller">A DISTURBED HOSTESS</span></h2>
+
+<p>Unfortunately for Berty, a woman across the
+street chose the hour of seven o’clock to have a
+fit of hysterics. Nothing would satisfy her perturbed
+relatives but a visit from “Madam,” as Grandma
+was known to the street.</p>
+
+<p>Half-past seven came, and no Mayor. Selina
+Everest, tall, pale, and lilylike, in white and green,
+arrived soon after, then came Margaretta and Roger,
+and then, to Berty’s dismay, appeared Tom Everest,
+dropping in as if he expected to find her alone.</p>
+
+<p>Berty said nothing, but her face grew pinker.
+Then she swept them all out to the semi-darkness
+of the veranda. The Mayor should not step into
+that brightly lighted room and find them all there.</p>
+
+<p>Wedged comfortably on the veranda, and talking
+over mutual friends, Margaretta, Selina, and Tom
+were having a charming time. Roger, seated by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+glass door, was restless, and kept moving in and out
+the dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>Berty was like a bird, perching here and there, and
+running at intervals to the front windows, ostensibly
+to watch for her grandmother, in reality to seize upon
+the Mayor at the earliest moment of his arrival.</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta and Selina were in a corner of the
+veranda. Tom was nearest the dining-room, and
+presently there was a whisper in his ear. “Jimson
+has arrived&mdash;hot&mdash;mad&mdash;explanatory&mdash;detained&mdash;Berty
+condoling.”</p>
+
+<p>Not a muscle of Tom’s face moved, and Roger,
+turning on his heel, departed.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he came back. “Berty frantic&mdash;Jimson
+has got on wrong kind of necktie. She has
+corralled him behind piano.”</p>
+
+<p>Poor Berty&mdash;she had indeed driven the unhappy
+late-comer behind the upright piano in the parlour.
+“Oh, Mr. Jimson, how could you? That necktie is a
+bright green!”</p>
+
+<p>“Gr&mdash;green!” stuttered the discomfited man.
+“Why, I matched your sample.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re colour blind!” exclaimed the girl, in
+despair. “Oh, what shall we do&mdash;but your suit
+is lovely,” she added, as she saw the wilting effect
+of her words upon him. “Come, quick, before any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+one sees,” and she hurried him out into the hall.
+“Here, go in that corner while I get one of my
+shirt-waist ties.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jimson, hot and perspiring, tried to obliterate
+himself against the wall until she came back.</p>
+
+<p>“Here is a pale blue tie,” said Berty. “Now
+stand before the glass in that hat-rack,&mdash;give me
+that green thing. Selina Everest would have a fit
+if she saw it.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor hastily tore off the bit of brilliant
+grass-green silk, and, seizing Berty’s blue satin, endeavoured
+to fasten it round his creaking collar.</p>
+
+<p>Roger peeped out through the dining-room door
+and went back to Tom, and in a convulsion of wicked
+delight reported. “He’s titivating in the hall&mdash;has
+got on one of Berty’s ties. Just creep out to
+see him.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom could not resist, and seeing that Margaretta
+and his sister were deep in the mysteries of coming
+fashions in dress, he tiptoed into the dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>Berty and the Mayor out in the hall were too
+much engaged with each other to heed the peeping
+eyes at the crack of the dining-room door.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jimson was in a rage, and was sputtering
+unintelligible words. Berty, too, was getting excited.
+“If you say a naughty word,” she threatened,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+“I’ll take that tie away from you, and you’ll have to
+go home!”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor, wrathfully beating one foot up and
+down on the oilcloth, was trying to make the tie
+tie itself.</p>
+
+<p>“Hang it!” he said, at last, throwing it down,
+“the thing won’t go at all. It was made for some
+woman’s neck. Give me that green thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“You sha’n’t have it,” Berty flared up. “You
+will spoil yourself. Here, let me have the blue one.
+I’ll fasten it for you, if you’ll never tell any one
+I did it.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom and Roger nearly exploded into unseemly
+merriment. The sight of the unfortunate Jimson’s
+face, the mingled patience and wrath of Berty, made
+them clap their hands over their mouths.</p>
+
+<p>“There!” cried Berty, at last, “it’s tied. You
+men have no patience. Look round now. Come
+softly into the dining-room and drink some lemonade
+before I introduce you&mdash;no, stay here, I’ll bring
+it to you. Smooth your hair on the left side.”</p>
+
+<p>The unfortunate man, breathing heavily, stood
+like a statue, while Tom and Roger tumbled over
+each other out to the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you two laughing at?” asked Margaretta,
+suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“At that black cloud there,” said Tom, pointing
+to the sky. “See it dragging itself over the stars.
+I say, Stanisfield, doesn’t that cloud strike you as
+being of a comical shape?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very,” exclaimed Roger, with sudden laughter,
+“very comical. Trails out just like a four-in-hand
+necktie.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very like it,” echoed Tom; then they both
+laughed again.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of their merriment, a quiet, patient
+voice was heard saying, “Margaretta, let me introduce
+Mr. Jimson to you,&mdash;and Miss Everest, Mr.
+Jimson.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom and Roger huddled aside like two naughty
+boys, and Berty, with the Mayor behind her, stepped
+to the other end of the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta stretched out a slim, pretty hand.
+Miss Everest did likewise, and the Mayor, breathing
+hard and fast, turned to the two men. “I don’t
+need an introduction to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” they both said, shaking hands with a sudden
+and overwhelming solemnity.</p>
+
+<p>They all sat down, and an uninterrupted and uninteresting
+chatter began. Every one but the Mayor
+was good-naturedly trying to make Berty’s party
+a success, and every one was unconsciously defeating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+this object by engaging in trifling and stupid small
+talk.</p>
+
+<p>“We’re not having a bit of a good time,” said
+Berty, at last, desperately. “Let’s go into the
+house.”</p>
+
+<p>They all smiled, and followed her into the parlour.
+Here at least the Mayor would be able to
+look at Miss Everest. Out on the veranda he could
+not see her at all.</p>
+
+<p>Quite unconscious of the others, he stared uninterruptedly
+at her. She was apparently oblivious of
+him, and was again talking fashions to Margaretta.</p>
+
+<p>But Tom and Roger&mdash;Berty glared wrathfully at
+them. They were examining one of Grandma’s
+books of engravings taken from Italian paintings,
+and if it had been the latest number of some comic
+paper they would not have had more fun over it.</p>
+
+<p>“Here is a framed one,” she said, taking a picture
+from the mantel, “by Sandro Botticelli.” Then,
+as she got close to them, she said, threateningly,
+“If you two don’t stop giggling, I’ll shame you
+before everybody!”</p>
+
+<p>They tried to be good, they honestly did. They
+did not want to tease the kind little sister, but something
+had come over the two men&mdash;they were just
+like two bad schoolboys. If Mr. Jimson had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+aware of their mirth, they would have ceased, but
+just now he was so utterly unconscious&mdash;so
+wrapped up in the contemplation of Miss Everest,
+that they went on enjoying their secret pleasure with
+the luxury of good men who seldom indulge in a
+joke at the expense of others, but who rival the most
+thoughtless and frivolous when once they set out
+to amuse themselves.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, Mr. Jimson was staring and silent, but after
+a time his silence ceased, and he began to talk. To
+talk for no apparent reason, and on no apparent
+subject.</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta and Selina, who had been paying very
+little attention to him, courteously paused to listen,
+and he went on. Went on, till Berty began to twitch
+in dismay, and to wink&mdash;at first slyly and secretly,
+then openly and undisguisedly at him.</p>
+
+<p>It was of no use. He had got “rattled,” as he
+had predicted, and was bound to have his say out.
+He made her a slight sign with his head to assure
+her that he understood her signals, and would if
+he could pay attention to them, but he was too far
+gone.</p>
+
+<p>Berty was in despair. Tom and Roger, to keep
+themselves from downright shouting, were also talking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+very fast and very glibly about nothing in particular.</p>
+
+<p>Berty, in utter dismay, turned her head to her
+three groups of guests&mdash;Selina and Margaretta
+gently and wonderingly polite, the Mayor seated by
+a small table flooding the air with garrulity, and
+Tom and Roger in the shade of the big piano lamp,
+expounding all sorts of nonsensical theories and fancies.</p>
+
+<p>Tom just now was on language. “Yes, my dear
+fellow,” he was saying, rapidly and with outstretched
+arm, “language is a wonderful thing. I may say
+that to see a young child grappling with the problem
+is an awe-inspiring and remarkable sight. Sometimes
+when it fills the air with its incoherent longings
+and strivings after oral utterance, after the sounds
+which custom has made the representation of ideas,
+the soul of the beholder is struck dumb with admiration,
+and even I may say terror. If such is
+the power of the infant brain, what will be the grasp
+of the adult?”</p>
+
+<p>At this instant Grandma entered the room. She
+took in the situation at a glance, and her presence
+afforded instant relief. The flood of “Jimsonese,”
+as Roger and Tom styled the Mayor’s eloquence,
+instantly ceased, the two bad boys shut their mouths.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Grandma shook hands with all her guests, then
+quietly sat down.</p>
+
+<p>“I hope you are not very tired,” said Margaretta,
+gently. “How is your patient?”</p>
+
+<p>“Better&mdash;she only wanted a little comfort.”</p>
+
+<p>“What made her have hysterics?” asked Berty,
+eagerly, and with a desire to make much of the
+latest addition to their circle.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma smiled. “She is a very nervous woman,
+and has been up nights a great deal with a sick
+baby. She lay down about two hours ago to take
+a nap. The house has a great many mice in it, and
+one got in her hair. It was entangled for a few
+seconds, and she was terrified. It would be very
+much more afraid of her than she would be of it.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom and Roger laughed uproariously, so uproariously
+and joyfully that Grandma’s black eyes
+went to them, rested on them, and did not leave
+them.</p>
+
+<p>But they did not care. They had not enjoyed
+themselves so much for years, and they were going
+to continue doing so, although their punishment was
+bound to come. Presently, when the conversation
+between Grandma, Margaretta, Selina, and Berty
+became really interrupted by their giggling, the old
+lady left her seat and came over to them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Have you been acting like this all the evening?”
+she asked, severely.</p>
+
+<p>Tom looked at Roger, and Roger looked at Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“And teasing poor Berty?”</p>
+
+<p>Again they looked at each other.</p>
+
+<p>“When I was a girl,” said Grandma, musingly,
+“I remember getting into those gales of laughter.
+How I revelled in that intoxication of the spirit! I
+would even scream with delight, and if I were alone
+with my girl companions would sometimes roll on
+the ground in ecstasy. You are pretty old for such
+pranks, but I see you are ready for one. You ought
+to be alone for a time. Follow me,” and she left the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>She took them down-stairs. “Where are we
+going?” asked Roger, humbly, and nudging Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“Out with the pigeons,” she said. “There is
+no room in my house for guests who make fun of
+each other.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the supper?” said Roger, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“It would grieve Berty’s hospitable heart for you
+to miss that,” said Grandma, “so when you have
+quite finished your laughing, come up-stairs again,
+and we will all have a nice time together.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom gave Roger a thwack, then, as he found
+himself in a latticed porch, and contemplated by a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
+number of mild-faced, inquiring pigeons, he dropped
+on a box and began to snicker again.</p>
+
+<p>“What set you off?” asked the old lady,
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>They both began to tell her of poor Berty’s trials
+with the Mayor.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma laughed too. “There is something
+funny about that friendship,” she said, “but there
+is no harm, but rather good in it, and I shall not
+put a stop to it. Do you know that man would
+make a good husband for your sister, Tom
+Everest?”</p>
+
+<p>Tom at this became so silly, and began to pound
+Roger on the back in such an idiotic manner, that
+Grandma gently closed the door and stole away.</p>
+
+<p>Going up the steps, she could hear them laughing&mdash;now
+in Homeric fashion. There were no women
+about to be startled by their noise.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br />
+<span class="smaller">AN ANXIOUS MIND</span></h2>
+
+<p>“How did I act?” asked the Mayor, humbly. It
+was eight o’clock the next morning, and he was
+standing before Berty as she took her breakfast
+alone, Grandma having gone across the street to
+visit her hysterical patient.</p>
+
+<p>Berty thoughtfully drank some coffee.</p>
+
+<p>“I’d take a cup, too, if you’d offer it to me,”
+he said, still more humbly, and sitting down opposite
+her. “Somehow or other I hadn’t much appetite
+this morning, and only took a bite of breakfast.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty, still in silence, poured him out a cup of
+strong coffee, and put in it a liberal supply of cream.
+Then, pushing the sugar-bowl toward him, she again
+devoted herself to her own breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re ashamed of me,” said the Mayor, lifting
+lumps of sugar into his cup with a downcast air.
+“I gabbled.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, you gabbled,” said Berty, quietly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“But I’m going to make an impression,” said
+the Mayor, slapping the table with one hand. “I’m
+going to make that woman look at me, and size me
+up, if she doesn’t do anything more.”</p>
+
+<p>“She sized you up last night,” said Berty, mournfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Did she say anything about me?” asked Mr.
+Jimson, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“Not a word&mdash;but she looked unutterable
+things.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think I’d better call on her?” he asked,
+desperately.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, gracious, no!” cried Berty, “you’d spoil
+everything. Leave matters to me in future.”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought I might explain,” he said, with a
+crestfallen air.</p>
+
+<p>“What would you explain?” asked Berty, cuttingly.</p>
+
+<p>“I’d tell her&mdash;well, I’d just remark casually after
+we’d spoken about the weather that she might have
+noticed that there was something queer, or that I
+was a little out in some of my remarks&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Berty, severely, “what then?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d just inform her, in a passing way, that I’d
+always been a steady man, and that if she would
+kindly overlook the past&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh! oh!” ejaculated Berty, “you wouldn’t
+hint to a lady that she might have thought you were
+under the influence of some stimulant?”</p>
+
+<p>“N-n-no, not exactly,” blundered the Mayor, “but
+I might quote a little poetry about the intoxication
+of her presence&mdash;I cut a fine piece out of the
+paper the other day. Perhaps I might read it to
+her.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty put her arm down on the table and laughed.
+“Well, if you’re not the oddest man. You are just
+lovely and original.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor looked at her doubtfully, and drank
+his coffee. Then he got up. “I don’t want you
+to think I’m not in earnest about this business. I
+never give up anything I’ve set my mind on, and
+I like that woman, and I want her to be Mrs. Peter
+Jimson.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty shivered. “Oh, dear, dear! how badly you
+will feel if she makes up her mind to be Mrs. Somebody
+Else&mdash;but I’ll help you all I can. You have
+a great ally in me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m obliged to you,” said the Mayor, gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>“I was ashamed of those other two men last
+evening,” said Berty, getting up and walking out
+toward the hall with him. “I wanted to shake
+them.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t take much stock in their actions,” said
+the Mayor, indifferently. “They just felt funny,
+and would have carried on whether I had been there
+or not.”</p>
+
+<p>“How forgiving in you&mdash;how noble,” said
+Berty, warmly.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing noble about it&mdash;I know men, and
+haven’t any curiosity about them. It’s you women
+that bother the life out of me. I don’t know how
+to take you.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s only a little past eight,” said Berty, suddenly.
+“Can’t you come down to the wharf with
+me? You don’t need to go to town yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I suppose so,” said the Mayor, reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>Berty caught up her sailor hat, and tripped beside
+him down to the street, talking on any subject that
+came uppermost.</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor, however, returned to his first love.
+“Now, if there was something I could do to astonish
+her,” he said. “If her house got on fire,
+and I could rescue her, or if she fell out of a boat
+into the river, and I could pull her in.”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s pretty tall,” said Berty, turning and surveying
+the rather short man by her side. “I doubt
+if you could pull her in.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“If I got a good grip I could,” he said, confidently.</p>
+
+<p>“The worst of it is, those heroic things don’t
+happen once in an age,” said Berty, in a matter-of-fact
+voice, “and, anyway, a woman would rather
+you would please her in a thousand little ways than
+in one big one.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you call little ways?” asked the Mayor.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, being nice.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what is niceness?” he went on, in an unsatisfied
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Niceness?&mdash;well, it is hard to tell. Pick up her
+gloves if she drops them, never cross her, always
+kiss her good-bye in the morning, and tell her she’s
+the sweetest woman in the world when you come
+home in the evening.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, now,” said the Mayor, in an aggrieved
+voice, “as if I’m likely to have the chance. You
+won’t even let me call on her.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, don’t you go near her,” said Berty, “not
+for awhile. Not till I sound her about you.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you think I stand now with her?”
+asked Mr. Jimson, with a downcast air.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, to tell the truth,” said Berty, frankly, “I
+think it’s this way. She wasn’t inclined to pay
+much attention to you at first, not any more than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
+if you were a table or a chair. When you began to
+talk she observed you, and I think she was saying
+to herself, ‘What kind of a man is this?’ Then
+when Grandma drove Tom and Roger out of the
+room, I think she wanted to laugh.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then she must have been a little interested,”
+said the man, breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Berty, gravely, “when a woman
+laughs at a man, it’s all up with him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you think I might as well give up?” said
+the Mayor, bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>“Not at all,” said his sympathizer, kindly.
+“There may fall to you some lucky chance to reinstate
+yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now what could it be?” asked Mr. Jimson,
+eagerly. “What should I be looking out for?”</p>
+
+<p>“Look out for everything,” said Berty, oracularly.
+“She will forget about the other night.”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought you told me the other day that women
+never forget.”</p>
+
+<p>“Neither they do,” said Berty, promptly, “never,
+never.”</p>
+
+<p>“According to all I can make out,” said the
+Mayor, with a chagrined air, “you women have all
+the airs and graces of a combine, and none of its
+understandabilities. Your way of doing business<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+don’t suit me. When I spot a bargain I jump on it.
+I close the affair before another fellow has a chance.
+That’s how I’ve made what little money I have.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mustn’t make love the way you do business,”
+said Berty, shaking her head. “Oh, no, no.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, now, isn’t it business to want a good
+wife?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Berty, promptly, “and I admire
+your up-to-date spirit. There’s been a lot of nonsense
+talked about roses, and cottages, and heavenly
+eyes, and delicious noses and chins. I believe in
+being practical. You want this kind of a wife&mdash;look
+for her. Don’t fall in love with some silly
+thing, and then get tired of her in a week.”</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of a husband would you like?”
+asked the Mayor, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Berty, drawing in a long breath
+of the crisp morning air. “I want a tall, slight
+man, with brown curly hair and gray eyes.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’ll be a hard combination to find,” said her
+companion, grimly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but I shall think all the more of him when
+I find him, and he must be clever, very clever&mdash;ahead
+of all the men in his State, whichever State
+it happens to be&mdash;and he must have a perfect
+temper, because I have a very faulty one, and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+must be of a noble disposition, and looked up to
+by every one he knows.”</p>
+
+<p>“I never met that kind of a man,” said the Mayor,
+drily.</p>
+
+<p>“Nor I,” said Berty, “but there must be such
+a man in the world.”</p>
+
+<p>“How about Tom Everest?” asked Mr. Jimson.
+“I saw him looking at you last night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tom Everest!” exclaimed Berty, indignantly.
+“An insurance agent!”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor snickered enjoyably, then fell behind
+a step, for they had just reached the entrance of
+Milligan’s Wharf.</p>
+
+<p>Berty was talking to some little girls who, even at
+this early hour, were hanging about the gate of the
+new park.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you may come in,” she said, producing
+a key from her pocket. “The workmen have
+about finished&mdash;there are a few loose boards about,
+but I will take care that they don’t fall on you.”</p>
+
+<p>With squeals of delight, the little girls dashed
+ahead, then stood staring about them.</p>
+
+<p>Milligan’s Wharf had indeed been transformed.
+A high fence surrounded it on every side, one
+end had been smoothed and levelled for games,
+the other was grassy and planted with trees.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Those elms will be kept trimmed,” said Berty,
+“except in midsummer. I am determined that
+these River Street children shall have enough sunlight
+for once&mdash;just look at those little girls.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor smiled broadly. Like discoverers who
+have fallen on some rich store of treasure, the little
+girls had espied a huge heap of sand, and had precipitated
+themselves upon it.</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t it queer how crazy children get over
+sand?” said Berty. Then she stepped into a small
+gate-house. “Here, children, are pails and shovels.
+Now have a good time.”</p>
+
+<p>The little shovels were plied vigorously, but they
+were not quick enough for the children, and presently
+abandoning them, they rolled in delight over
+the soft sandy mass.</p>
+
+<p>“There is no doubt that our park will be a success,”
+said Berty, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>“By the way,” asked the Mayor, shrewdly, “who
+is to look after these children? If you turn all the
+hoodlums of the neighbourhood in, there will be
+scrapping.”</p>
+
+<p>“I was thinking of that,” said Berty, wrinkling
+her brows. “We ought to have some man or
+woman here. But we have no money to pay any
+one.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“I suppose you wouldn’t take such a position,”
+said the Mayor.</p>
+
+<p>“I!” exclaimed Berty, “why, I’d love it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You wouldn’t need to stay all the time,” said
+Mr. Jimson. “You could get a woman to help
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“All the women about here are pretty busy.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’d pay her, of course. There’d have to be
+a salary&mdash;not a heavy one&mdash;but I could fix up
+something with the city council. They’ve built
+the park. They’re bound to provide for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should love to earn some money,” said Berty,
+eagerly, “but, Mr. Jimson, perhaps people would
+talk and say I had just had the park made to create
+a position for myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Suppose they did&mdash;what would you care?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I’d care because I didn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“And no one would think you had. Don’t worry
+about that. Now I must get back to town.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mind you’re to make the first speech to-morrow
+at the opening of this place,” said Berty.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I remember.”</p>
+
+<p>“And,” she went on, hesitatingly, “don’t you
+think you’d better commit your speech to paper?
+Then you’d know when to stop.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I wouldn’t,” he said, hopelessly. “Something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+would prompt me to make a few oral remarks
+after I’d laid down the paper.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should like you to make a good speech, because
+Miss Everest will be here.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will she? Then I must try to fix myself. How
+shall I do it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I might have a pile of boards arranged at the
+back of the park,” said Berty, “and as soon as
+you laid down the paper, I’d give a signal to a
+boy to topple them over. In the crash you could sit
+down.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I wouldn’t,” he said, drearily. “I’d wait
+till the fuss was over, then I’d go on.”</p>
+
+<p>“And that wouldn’t be a good plan, either,” said
+Berty, “because some one might get hurt. I’ll
+tell you what I’ll do. You give me a sheet of paper
+just the size of that on which you write your speech.
+Mind, now, and write it. Don’t commit it. And
+don’t look at this last sheet till you stand on the
+platform and your speech is finished.”</p>
+
+<p>“What will be on it?” asked Mr. Jimson,
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“The most awful hobgoblin you ever saw. I
+used to draw beauties at school. When you see this
+hobgoblin you won’t be able to think of anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>
+else. Just fix your eyes on his terrible eyes, and
+you will sit down in the most natural way possible.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe I will,” he said, with a sigh, “but I
+doubt it&mdash;you’re a good girl, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no. I’m not, Mr. Mayor, begging your
+pardon. I’m only trying to be one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ve got to go,” said her companion, reluctantly.
+“I wish I could skip that stived-up office
+and go out on the river with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wish you could,” said Berty, frankly. “But
+I’ve got work to do, too. I want every clergyman
+in the town to be present to-morrow. Have your
+speech short, will you, for it will probably be a hot
+day.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said the Mayor. “Good-bye,” and
+he trotted away.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br />
+<span class="smaller">THE OPENING OF THE PARK</span></h2>
+
+<p>The next afternoon had come, and was nearly
+gone. There had been a crowd of people at the
+opening of the Milligan Wharf Park. Ragged
+children, sailors, day-labourers, and poor women of
+the neighbourhood had stood shoulder to shoulder
+with some of the first citizens of the town&mdash;citizens
+who in the whole course of their lives had never
+been on this street before.</p>
+
+<p>The well-dressed spectators had looked about
+them with interest. This fad of Mrs. Travers’s
+young granddaughter had excited much attention.
+She had carried her scheme through, and many
+curious glances had been sent in the direction of
+the suddenly shy, smiling girl, trying to hide behind
+the stately little grandmother, who sat looking as
+if the opening of parks for poor children were a
+daily occurrence in her life.</p>
+
+<p>There had been room for some of the audience<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+in the long, low shed erected for a playroom for the
+children on rainy days; however, many persons had
+been obliged to sit on benches placed in the hot sunlight,
+therefore the opening exercises had been arranged
+to be exceedingly short.</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor, unfortunately, had transgressed, as
+he had prophesied he would do. However, in his
+speech he had, to Berty’s delight, carefully abstained
+from mentioning the part she had taken in procuring
+the park for the children of River Street. But succeeding
+speakers had so eulogized the self-sacrificing
+and public-spirited girl, that finally she had
+slipped away into one of the summer-houses, where,
+now that all was over, she was talking with her
+grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>They had the park to themselves as far as grown
+persons were concerned. The rich and well-to-do
+people had filed away. The poor men and women
+of the neighbourhood had gone to their homes for
+their early evening meal.</p>
+
+<p>“They say every rose has a thorn,” exclaimed
+Berty. “Where is the thorn in this?” and she waved
+her hand about the huge playground where scores
+of children were disporting themselves.</p>
+
+<p>“It is here,” said Grandma. “Don’t lose heart
+when you see it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Do you see it?” asked Berty, pointedly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, dear.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“That there must be some one here every minute
+of the time to see that the big children do not impose
+on the little ones. There’s a big hulking boy
+slapping a little one now. I’ll go settle him,” and
+Grandma nimbly walked away.</p>
+
+<p>“That is no thorn,” said Berty, when she came
+back. “Mr. Jimson has arranged for it. He has
+just told me that the city council voted me last
+evening five hundred dollars as park supervisor.”</p>
+
+<p>“My dear!” said Grandma, in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t it lovely?” murmured Berty, with flushed
+cheeks. “Now I can pay all the household expenses.
+With my annuity we shall be quite prosperous.”</p>
+
+<p>“The city appreciates what you are doing,” said
+Grandma, softly, “and the Mayor has been a good
+friend to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hasn’t he?” said Berty. “I must not scold him
+for that awful speech.”</p>
+
+<p>“The opening was good,” said Grandma, mildly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but the middle and the ending,” replied
+Berty, with a groan.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, how I suffered&mdash;not for myself. I could
+endure to hear him speak for a year. But I do so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+want him to make a good impression on others. His
+tongue is just like a spool of silk. It unwinds and
+unwinds and unwinds, and never breaks off. Talk
+about women’s tongues!”</p>
+
+<p>“He is new to public speaking. He will get over
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I made him such a thrilling hobgoblin,”
+continued Berty, in an aggrieved voice. “Why, I
+had nightmare last night just in dreaming about
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>“A hobgoblin?” said Grandma, questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes&mdash;to stop him. It was on the last page
+of his manuscript. You remember when he came
+to the end of his paper, he just stopped a minute,
+smiled a sickly smile, and went on. Why, that hobgoblin
+didn’t frighten him a bit. It inspired him.
+What was he talking about? What do people talk
+about when they ramble on and on? I can never
+remember.”</p>
+
+<p>“Berty,” said Mrs. Travers, shrewdly, “you are
+tired and excited. You would better come home.
+There is Mrs. Provis looking in the gate. She will
+keep an eye on the children.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Mrs. Provis,” said Berty, hurrying to the
+gate, “won’t you come in and sit awhile till I go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
+home and get something to eat? I’ll come back
+presently and lock up.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, miss,” said the woman, readily. “That’s
+a little thing to do for you. I guess this street takes
+store of what you’ve done for our young ones.”</p>
+
+<p>“They’re my young ones, too,” said Berty,
+proudly. “I live on the street&mdash;we’re all neighbours.
+Now I’ll go. I won’t be long. Your eldest
+girl can get the supper ready for your husband,
+can’t she?”</p>
+
+<p>“That she can, miss.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty walked away with her grandmother, and
+the woman, gazing after her, said, “Bless your black
+head. I’d like to hear any one say anything agin
+you in River Street.”</p>
+
+<p>In an hour Berty was back again, part of her
+supper in her pocket.</p>
+
+<p>Contentedly eating her bread and butter, she sat
+on a bench watching the children, most of whom
+absolutely refused to go home, while others ran
+merely for a few mouthfuls of something to eat.</p>
+
+<p>This intoxication of play in a roomy place was
+a new experience to them, and Berty, with an intensely
+thankful face, watched them until a heavy
+footstep made her turn her head.</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor stood before her, two red spots on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+his cheeks, and a strange light in his eye. “I’ve
+just been to your house,” he said, “and your grandmother
+sent me here.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she?” said Berty; then she added, promptly,
+“What has happened?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jimson heaved a deep, contented sigh, and
+seated himself beside her. “I’m a happy man, Miss
+Berty.”</p>
+
+<p>“What are you happy about?” she asked, briskly.
+“It isn’t&mdash;it isn’t Miss Everest?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it is Miss Everest,” said Mr. Jimson.
+“Something took place this afternoon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, what?&mdash;why don’t you tell me? You’re
+terribly slow.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m as fast as I can be. I’m not a flash of
+lightning.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, indeed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ve met Miss Everest&mdash;she’s talked with
+me!”</p>
+
+<p>“She has!” cried Berty, joyfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, she has. You know, after the affair this
+afternoon some of the people went to town. Miss
+Everest was shopping.”</p>
+
+<p>“She always does her shopping in the morning,”
+interrupted Berty. “All the smart set do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I guess she found herself down-town,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
+said Mr. Jimson, good-naturedly, “and couldn’t
+get by the shops. Anyway, she was coming out
+of that fol-de-rol place where you women buy dolls
+and ribbons.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you mean Smilax &amp; Wiley’s.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that’s the place. She came out of the door,
+and, turning her head to speak to some one passing
+her, she almost ran into me. I stopped short, you
+may be sure, and I know you’ll be mad with me
+when I tell you that I forgot to take my hat off.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps I won’t,” said Berty, guardedly. “It
+depends on what follows.”</p>
+
+<p>“I just stood rooted to the spot, and staring with
+all my might. She grew kind of pink and bowed.
+I said, ‘Miss Everest,’ then I stopped. I guess she
+was sorry for my dumbness, for she said, in a kind
+of confused way, ‘What a stupid place this is. I’ve
+been all over it trying to match some silk, and I
+can’t find a scrap.’ And still I never said a word.
+For the life of me I couldn’t think of anything.
+Then she said, ‘That was a very good speech of
+yours this afternoon.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Now surely you said something in response to
+that,” interjected Berty, “such a gracious thing for
+her to say.”</p>
+
+<p>“Never a word,” replied the Mayor, seriously,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
+“and, seeing that I couldn’t or wouldn’t speak, she
+went away. After she left, words came to me, and
+I babbled on to myself, till the people began to
+look at me as if they thought I’d gone crazy, then
+I moved on.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Berty, with badly suppressed scorn,
+“this is a great tale. Where have you distinguished
+yourself, pray?”</p>
+
+<p>“Wait a bit,” said Mr. Jimson, soberly. “I
+haven’t finished. Before I left the spot I cast my
+eyes to the pavement. What did I see but the bit
+of silk she had dropped there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” observed Berty, in a mystified way, when
+he paused.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought of what you said,” continued the
+Mayor. “I called up your hint about small things.
+I picked up the bit of silk.”</p>
+
+<p>“And, for goodness’ sake, what did you do with
+it?” queried Berty, in distress. “Some fantastic
+thing, I’ll be bound.”</p>
+
+<p>“I took it away to my office,” Mr. Jimson went
+on, solemnly, and with the air of keeping back some
+item of information that when communicated would
+cover him with glory. “I’ve got an office-boy as
+sharp as a needle. I gave him the piece of silk. I
+said, ‘You hold on to that as if it were a fifty-dollar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
+greenback. You take the seven-thirty train for
+Boston. You match that silk, and get back here
+as quick as you can.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! oh!” cried Berty, “how much did you
+send for?”</p>
+
+<p>“For a pound,” said the Mayor, tragically. “She
+said she had a peóny to work, and they’re pretty
+big flowers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Péony, not pe-ó-ny,” said Berty, peevishly.
+Then she thought awhile, and the Mayor, losing his
+deeply satisfied air, sat regarding her in bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>At last she delivered her opinion sibyl-like. “I
+don’t know whether you’ve done a good thing or
+not. Only time can tell. But I think you have.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve done just what you told me,” said the astonished
+man. “You said to look out for little
+things.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but the question is, have you the right yet
+to look out for little things,” said Berty, with some
+dissatisfaction in her tone. “When grandma was
+married she forgot her wedding-bouquet, and her
+newly made husband had a special train leave here
+to take it to Bangor, but he had the right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Look here,” said the Mayor, and the red spots
+on his cheeks deepened, “you’re criticizing too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
+much. I guess you’d better not interfere between
+Miss Everest and me.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll want me to give her that silk when it
+comes,” said Berty, defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>“I did&mdash;that’s just what I came to speak to
+you about, but now I’ll give it to her myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“She may not like it.”</p>
+
+<p>“She can like it, or lump it,” said Mr. Jimson,
+inelegantly; “when that parcel comes, I am going
+to take it to her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Suppose the boy can’t match the silk?”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s got to,” said Mr. Jimson, obstinately.</p>
+
+<p>“But perhaps he can’t; then how will she ever
+know you sent for it, if I don’t tell her. You would
+like me to in that case, wouldn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m no violet,” said Mr. Jimson, disagreeably.
+“I want to get in with Miss Everest, and how can
+I if I blush unseen?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell her of your blushes,” said Berty, generously.
+“Come, now, let us be friends again.
+From my standpoint, I think you have done nobly
+and magnificently.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you were just blaming me.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was from Miss Everest’s standpoint.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m blessed if I know how to take you,” muttered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
+the confused man. “One minute you’re yourself,
+and the next you’re another woman.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s feminine reversibility,” said Berty, graciously.
+“You don’t understand us yet. That is
+the punishment our Creator inflicts upon you, for
+not having studied us more. A pity I hadn’t known
+you five years ago&mdash;come, it’s time to lock up here.
+Oh, Mr. Mayor, can’t we have electric lights for this
+playground?”</p>
+
+<p>With an effort he called back his wandering
+thoughts which were on the way to Boston with his
+office-boy, and looked round the darkening park.
+“What do you want lights for?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, these children play till all hours. It’s
+mean to keep them here till dark, then turn them on
+the streets. A few lights would make the place as
+light as day.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor stared about him in silence.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve just been thinking about the electric light
+people,” continued Berty. “They’re a big, rich
+company, aren’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>“So, so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, would it be wrong for me to go to them
+and ask to have a few lights put in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Wrong, no&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“But would they do it?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Well, I guess if you went to them with your
+mind made up that they ought to, they would do it
+quick enough.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go,” said Berty, with satisfaction. “Thank
+you so much. I’ll say you advised me.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor sighed, but said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>“Come, children,” called Berty, in her clear
+voice, “it’s time to go home. Gates open at eight-thirty
+to-morrow morning.”</p>
+
+<p>She huddled them out into the street like a flock
+of unwilling sheep, then walked home beside her
+suddenly silent companion.</p>
+
+<p>“Selina Everest sat beside Grandma to-day,” said
+Berty, recurring to what she knew was now his
+favourite topic of conversation.</p>
+
+<p>“I saw her there,” said her companion, eagerly.
+“Do you suppose your grandmother&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, she did,” and Berty finished his sentence
+for him. “Trust Grandma to slip a good word in
+Miss Everest’s ear about you. I saw her blush, so
+perhaps she is beginning to care.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps your grandmother had better take her
+the silk,” said the Mayor, generously.</p>
+
+<p>“No, I think I’ll attend to that myself,” said
+Berty, “but come in and see Grandma,” and she
+paused; “we’ll have a nice talk about the Everests.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“By the way,” she said, ushering him out to the
+veranda, and lingering for a minute before she went
+to find her grandmother, “I want to thank you
+again for getting me that salary for looking after
+the playground. I’m just delighted&mdash;but I think
+I’ll have to get a helper, for Grandma doesn’t want
+me to stay there all the time.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s square&mdash;just what I recommended,”
+said Mr. Jimson. “Get any one you like, and give
+him or her ten or twelve dollars a month to assist
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“But suppose he or she does half my work?”</p>
+
+<p>“That don’t count. Skilled labour, you know,
+takes the cake.”</p>
+
+<p>“But if any one does half my work, they must
+have half my pay.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense,” said the Mayor, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>“I sha’n’t grind the face of any poor person,”
+said Berty, doggedly.</p>
+
+<p>“All right&mdash;have it your own way, but if you
+won’t mind me, consult your grandmother before
+you pledge yourself.”</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.<br />
+<span class="smaller">UP THE RIVER</span></h2>
+
+<p>Berty and her grandmother were having a quiet
+little picnic together. They had gone away up the
+river to Cloverdale, and, landing among the green
+meadows, had followed a path leading to a small
+hill crowned by a grove of elm-trees.</p>
+
+<p>Here Berty had established her grandmother on
+a rug with cushions, magazines, and a new book, and
+the ever-present knitting.</p>
+
+<p>Thinking that the little old lady wished to have
+a nap, Berty left her, and, accompanied by a mongrel
+dog who had come from River Street with them,
+roamed somewhat disconsolately along the river
+bank.</p>
+
+<p>This proceeding on her part just suited the occupant
+of a second boat, who, unknown to Berty, had
+watched her pink and white one all the way from
+the city.</p>
+
+<p>With strong, steady strokes he pulled near the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
+bank where the girl stood knee-deep in the high
+meadow-grass, then, with a hypocritical start, pretended
+to recognize her for the first time, just as
+he was rowing by.</p>
+
+<p>“How de do, Berty&mdash;what are you doing here?”</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma and I are having a picnic,” she said,
+in a lugubrious voice.</p>
+
+<p>“A picnic,” he repeated, incredulously, “you
+mean a funeral.”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean what I say,” she replied, crossly.</p>
+
+<p>“Might a fellow land?” he asked, his eyes dancing
+mischievously.</p>
+
+<p>“A fellow can land, or move on, or swim, or
+fly, for aught I care,” she responded, ungraciously.</p>
+
+<p>He jumped up, sprang out of his boat, and fastened
+it to the same stake where Berty’s was moored.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve been looking cross-eyed at the sun,” he
+said, taking off his hat and fanning himself.</p>
+
+<p>“Take care that you don’t do the same thing,”
+said Berty.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her sharply. She was cross, pure
+and simple, and with a satisfied smile he went on,
+“Might a fellow sit down on this grass? It looks
+uncommonly comfortable.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes,” said Berty, seating herself near him.
+“One might as well sit as stand.”</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 460px;" id="illus5">
+<img src="images/illus5.jpg" width="460" height="650" alt="" />
+<p class="caption">“‘YOU’RE DYING TO TEASE ME’”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“This is pleasant,” said Tom, happily, leaning
+on one elbow with his hat over his eyes, and gazing
+dreamily at the river.</p>
+
+<p>“It is the prettiest river in the world,” remarked
+Berty, decidedly.</p>
+
+<p>“Come now&mdash;how many rivers have you seen?”
+inquired Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“Lots of them.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you have never been out of your native
+State.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have been to Boston, and New York, and New
+Orleans. How strange that you should forget it,”
+replied Berty, wrathfully.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s made you mad, Berty?” inquired Tom,
+with a brotherly air.</p>
+
+<p>“You know,” she said, sulkily, “you’re dying
+to tease me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor little girl,” murmured Tom, under his
+breath. Then he said, aloud, “Peter Jimson is in
+our house morning, noon, and night now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t I know it!” exclaimed Berty, indignantly,
+“and you are encouraging him, and you can’t bear
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come now, Berty,” said Tom, protestingly.
+“‘Can’t bear’ is a strong expression. I never
+thought much about him till he began sending business<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
+my way. I tell you that makes a lot of difference.
+It isn’t in human nature to look critically
+at a man who gives you a helping hand in the
+struggle for existence. Unless he’s a monster,
+which Jimson isn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he has helped you?” asked Berty, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Lots&mdash;he has a big influence in the city. Don’t
+you know about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“About his influence?”</p>
+
+<p>“No&mdash;about his favouring me.”</p>
+
+<p>“He tells me nothing now,” and her tone was
+bitter.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve been a good friend to him, Berty. He
+is never tired of singing your praises.”</p>
+
+<p>“To whom does he sing? To Selina?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I’m not with them much.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then he sings them to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, just as soon as I pitch him the tune.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should think you’d know enough of me,”
+said Berty, peevishly. “I’m sure you’re one of the
+earliest objects I remember seeing in life.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come now, Berty,” he replied, good-naturedly,
+“you needn’t be flinging my age up to me. I’m
+only six years older than you, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that is an age.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“How did you and Jimson fall out?” asked Tom,
+curiously. “I’d give considerable to know.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll never know, now that I see you want to,”
+replied Berty, vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>Tom meditatively chewed a piece of meadow-grass,
+then said, easily, “I spoke in the language
+of exaggeration. We all do it. Of course, I guess
+that you had a quarrel. Jimson was dancing about
+you morning, noon, and night, till he took a fancy
+to Selina. Then you were jealous.”</p>
+
+<p>“It wasn’t that at all,” said Berty, unguardedly.
+“I wouldn’t be so silly. He broke his word about
+a package of silk.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” replied Tom, coolly, “that was the silk
+Selina was so delighted to get. He sent a boy to
+Boston for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and the arrangement, the very last arrangement,
+was for me to present it when it came. Several
+days went by; and I thought it queer I didn’t hear
+from him. Then I met him in the street. ‘Couldn’t
+the boy match the silk?’ I asked.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Oh, yes,’ he said, ‘he brought it fast enough.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘And where is it?’ I asked.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Miss Everest has it.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Miss Everest?’ I said. ‘How did she get it?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Well,’ he said, ‘when it came, I just couldn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+resist. I caught it from the boy. I took a carriage
+to her house&mdash;she was just at breakfast, but she
+came out, and I gave it to her.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘And what did she say?’ I asked. Now this is
+where I blame him, Tom. Just think, after all my
+kindness to him, and coaching him as to the ways
+of women, he just said, coolly, ‘I can’t tell you.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Can’t tell me?’ I repeated. ‘You’ve got to.
+I’m more interested in this affair than you are.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘I&mdash;I can’t,’ he stammered. ‘I’ve seen Miss
+Everest several times since, and she says you’re
+only a child&mdash;not to tell everything to you.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Only a child!’ I said. ‘Very well!’ and I
+stalked away. He sent me a bouquet of carnations
+and maidenhair that evening, but of course flowers
+had no effect on me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Selina is jealous of you,” said Tom, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not jealous of her,” returned Berty, sweetly.
+“I wish her every happiness, but I do think the
+Mayor might have been more open.”</p>
+
+<p>“If he’s got to dance after Selina, his work’s
+cut out,” said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think she will marry him?” asked Berty,
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“Marry him&mdash;of course she will. I never saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>
+her so pleased over anything as she was over that
+silk affair. Jimson is a good-hearted fellow, Berty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good-hearted, yes, but he doesn’t keep his
+promises. He hasn’t got those pigeon-boxes up
+yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“What pigeon-boxes?”</p>
+
+<p>“He promised to have some nailed on the shed for
+me. The boxes are all made, but not put up.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll do it,” said Tom, generously. “I’ll come
+to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>“To-morrow will be Sunday.”</p>
+
+<p>“Monday, then. Monday afternoon as soon as
+the office closes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well,” said Berty, with a sigh, “but you’ll
+probably forget. My friends don’t seem to be standing
+by me lately.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your friends&mdash;why, you are the heroine of the
+city&mdash;confound it, what is that dog doing?”</p>
+
+<p>Berty’s mongrel friend, taking advantage of
+Tom’s absorbing interest in his companion, had lain
+down on the grass behind him and had chewed a
+piece out of his coat.</p>
+
+<p>“Look at it&mdash;the rascal,” exclaimed Tom, twisting
+round his blue serge garment&mdash;“a clean bite.
+What kind of a dog is this? Get out, you brute.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t scold him,” said Berty, holding out a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
+hand to the culprit. “He doesn’t know any better.
+He is young and cutting teeth.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I wish he’d cut them on some other man&mdash;look
+at that coat. It’s ruined.”</p>
+
+<p>“Can’t you get it mended?”</p>
+
+<p>“Who would do it for me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Send it to your tailor.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s too shabby&mdash;I just keep it for boating.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ask your mother or Selina.”</p>
+
+<p>“They’re too busy with fancy work. Selina is
+working peonies all over the place. She’s got to
+use up that pound of silk.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know what you’ll do, then,” observed
+Berty, in an uninterested way, “unless,” with sudden
+vivacity, “you give me the coat for a poor
+person.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not I&mdash;I can’t afford that. I’ll tell you, Berty,
+I ought to get a wife.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, so you should,” said the young girl,
+kindly. “It’s time you were getting settled. Have
+you any one in mind?”</p>
+
+<p>“I know the kind of a girl I want,” said Tom,
+evasively. “I do wish you’d help me pick her
+out.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty shook her head with sudden wariness. “I
+forgot, I’m not going to meddle with match-making<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>
+any more. You’re sure to get a snub from the
+person you’re trying hardest to benefit.”</p>
+
+<p>“I promise you that the girl I choose will never
+snub you,” said Tom, solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>“There was Selina,” replied Berty, bitterly, “I
+just loved her, and thought her beautiful and stately
+like a picture, and far above Mr. Jimson, and now
+she says I’m a child&mdash;a child!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s too bad,” said Tom, sympathetically, “but
+Selina was always a little bit wrapped up in herself.”</p>
+
+<p>“I had even got as far as the engagement-ring,”
+continued Berty. “I thought a red stone&mdash;a garnet
+or a ruby&mdash;would be less common than the
+diamond that everybody has.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would you prefer a red stone for yourself?”
+asked Tom, artlessly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I should think I would.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you see Selina wants to choose for herself.
+You women like to manage your own affairs.”</p>
+
+<p>“But Mr. Jimson is just as bad. He’s as stubborn
+as a mule when I want to advise him.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess we all like to run our own concerns,”
+said Tom, good-humouredly, “but to come back
+to my girl, Berty, I do wish you would help me.
+You understand women so much better than I do.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Didn’t I just tell you that I wouldn’t meddle
+with matrimonial affairs again&mdash;not for any one.
+Not even if dear Grandma were to ask me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, now, we all have a great respect for
+Grandma,” said Tom, warmly, “but I scarcely think
+she is likely to think of giving you another grandfather.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you wretch!” said Berty, irritably. “I
+don’t mean for herself. I mean for Bonny, or you,
+or some of her young friends.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, as your decision is irrevocable, I suppose
+I mustn’t tease,” observed Tom, slowly getting up
+and looking out over the river, “but I would really
+like you to help me. Perhaps Margaretta will.
+Good-bye, Berty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma and I are going to have a cup of tea
+presently,” said Berty, staring out over the meadows
+without looking at him. “We’ve brought a kettle
+and some eatables. If you would like to stay, I
+know Grandma would be glad to have you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, but I don’t think I’d better accept
+Grandma’s kind invitation. My mind is full of
+this important business of choosing a wife, and I
+want to find some one who will give me good advice.
+Margaretta will just about be going to dinner by
+the time I get back to the city. I’ll change my duds,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
+and get over just about the minute that the third
+course goes in.”</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of a girl do you want?” said Berty,
+staring up at him.</p>
+
+<p>“A tall girl, much taller than you, or even Margaretta.
+Tall and flaxen-haired like a doll.”</p>
+
+<p>“And blue eyes, I suppose,” said Berty, sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, blue as the sky, and tapering fingers&mdash;white
+fingers, not brown from boating and out-of-door
+life.”</p>
+
+<p>“You want a hothouse plant,” said Berty, disdainfully.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve put my very idea in words,” said Tom,
+in an ecstasy, as he again sat down on the grass
+near her. “I’d admire to wait on one of those
+half-sick creatures. It seems to me if I could
+wrap her in a white shawl in the morning, and come
+back at night and find her in the same place, I’d be
+perfectly happy. Now these healthy, athletic creatures
+with strong opinions scurry all over the place.
+You never know where to find them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Suppose you advertise.”</p>
+
+<p>“I dare say I’ll have to. I don’t know any one
+of just the type I want here in Riverport, but I
+thought perhaps you might know one. It doesn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>
+matter if she lives outside. I wouldn’t mind going
+a little way.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s Matty DeLong,” replied Berty. “She
+has neuralgia terribly, but then her hair isn’t light.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want a neuralgic victim. It’s just a kind
+of general debility girl I want.”</p>
+
+<p>“What about the doctor’s bills?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll pay them,” said Tom, enthusiastically.
+“Give me domestic peace even at the expense of
+bills.”</p>
+
+<p>“I expect I’d be a terrible termagant if I married,”
+observed Berty, thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>Her companion made no reply to this assertion.</p>
+
+<p>“If I asked a man for money, and he wouldn’t
+give it to me, I think I’d want to pound him to
+a jelly,” continued Berty, warmly.</p>
+
+<p>“I expect he’d let you,” observed Tom, meekly,
+“but you’re not thinking of marriage for yourself,
+are you, Berty?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she said, snappishly, “only when the subject
+is so much discussed, I can’t help having ideas
+put into my head.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose you’d like a Boston man, wouldn’t
+you?” inquired Tom, demurely.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. Anybody that was a stranger
+and celebrated would do.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“You’re like me in one respect. You want a
+brand-new article, not something you’ve been used
+to seeing since infancy.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should like a President,” said Berty, wistfully,
+“but when men come to the presidential chair
+they’re all too old for me.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it must be ennobling for you to have such
+an ambitious spirit,” observed Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“It does make me feel nice&mdash;Hark! isn’t that
+Grandma calling?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” replied Tom. “Let us go see what she
+wants.”</p>
+
+<p>“Berty, Berty,” the distant voice was saying,
+“isn’t it time to put the kettle on? We must get
+home before dark.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Grandma, dear,” called Berty. “Tom
+Everest is here. He will help me find some sticks.
+You please sit still and rest&mdash;come, Tom, and
+speak to her first,” and smiling and playing with the
+dancing mongrel pup, Berty ran up the slope.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.<br />
+<span class="smaller">BERTY’S TRAMP</span></h2>
+
+<p>Berty was away out on the lonely road leading
+from the iron works to the city.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma had not been well all day, and Berty
+had gone to ask Bonny to spend the night in the
+River Street house. Since the boy’s admission into
+Roger’s office he had virtually lived in Roger’s
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Not that he loved Margaretta and Roger more
+than he loved his grandmother and Berty, but the
+Grand Avenue style of living was more in accord
+with his aristocratic tastes than the plain ways of
+the house in River Street. So the boy really had
+two homes.</p>
+
+<p>Berty, who had been in the house with her grandmother
+all through the morning, had enjoyed the
+long walk out to the iron works, and was now enjoying
+the long walk home.</p>
+
+<p>It was a perfect afternoon. “How I love the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+late summer,” murmured the girl, and she gazed
+admiringly about her at the ripening grain fields,
+the heavily foliaged trees, the tufts of goldenrod
+flowering beside the dusty road.</p>
+
+<p>Away off there in the distance was a moving
+cloud of dust coming from the city. Nearer at
+hand, it resolved itself into a man who was shuffling
+along in a lazy way, and kicking up very much
+more dust than there was any necessity of doing.</p>
+
+<p>Berty stared at him. She knew most of the
+citizens of Riverport by sight, and whether she knew
+them by sight or not, she could tell by their general
+appearance whether they belonged to the place.</p>
+
+<p>This man was a stranger&mdash;a seedy, poor-looking
+man with a brown face, and he was observing her as
+intently as she was observing him.</p>
+
+<p>Arrived opposite her, he stopped. “Lady,” he
+said, in a whining voice, “please give a poor sick
+man some money to buy medicine.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter with you?” she asked,
+promptly.</p>
+
+<p>“An awful internal trouble, lady,” he said, laying
+his hand on his side. “Intermittent pains come
+on every evening at this time.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t look ill,” replied Berty, suspiciously.
+“Your face is as bronzed as a sailor’s.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“The doctors prescribed outdoor air, lady,” he
+went on, whiningly.</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t any money for you.”</p>
+
+<p>The man, from his station in the road, looked
+back toward the city, then forward in the direction
+of the iron works. There was not a soul in
+sight, and as quick as a flash an angry sentence
+sprang to the girl’s lips, “Let me by.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, lady, I want some money,” he said, persistently,
+and he stood in her way.</p>
+
+<p>She surveyed him contemptuously. “You want
+to make me give you some, but I tell you you couldn’t
+do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Couldn’t I, lady?” he replied, half-sneeringly,
+half-admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Berty, promptly, “because, in the
+first place, I’d be so mad that you couldn’t get it
+from me. You’re only a little man, and I guess
+a gymnasium-trained girl like myself could knock
+you about considerably. Then look here,” and,
+stepping back, she suddenly flashed something long
+and sharp and steely from her head. “Do you
+see that hat-pin? It would sting you like a wasp,”
+and she stabbed the air with it.</p>
+
+<p>The man snickered. “You’ve plenty of sand,
+but I guess I could get your purse if I tried.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh, how angry you make me,” returned the
+girl, with a fiery glance. “Now I can understand
+how one can let oneself be killed for an idea. You
+might possibly overcome me, you might get my
+purse, but you couldn’t kill the mad in me if you
+chopped me in a thousand little pieces.”</p>
+
+<p>“Lady,” said the man, teasingly, “I guess you’d
+give in before then, though I’ve no doubt but what
+your temper would carry you considerable far.”</p>
+
+<p>“And suppose you got my purse,” said Berty,
+haughtily, “what good would it do you? Wouldn’t
+I scream? I’ve got a voice like a steam-whistle;
+and the iron works close in five minutes, and this
+road will be alive with good honest workmen.
+They’d hunt you down like a rabbit.”</p>
+
+<p>For the first time a shade of uneasiness passed
+over his face. But he speedily became cool. “Good
+evening, lady, excuse me for frightening you,” and,
+pulling at his battered hat, he started to pass on.</p>
+
+<p>“Stop!” said Berty, commandingly, “who are
+you, and why did you come to Riverport?”</p>
+
+<p>He lazily propped himself against a tree by the
+roadside. “It was in my line of march.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you a tramp?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, yes, I suppose I am.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where were you born?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“In New Hampshire.”</p>
+
+<p>“You weren’t born a tramp?”</p>
+
+<p>“Great Harry!” muttered the man, taking off
+his hat and pushing back from his forehead the dark
+hair sprinkled with gray, “it seems a hundred years
+since I was born. My father was a well-to-do
+farmer, young lady, if you want to know, and he
+gave me a good education.”</p>
+
+<p>“A good education,” repeated Berty, “and now
+you have sunk so low as to stop women and beg
+for money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just that low,” he said, indifferently, “and from
+a greater height than you think.”</p>
+
+<p>“What was the height?” asked Berty, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“I was once a physician in Boston,” he returned,
+with a miserable remnant of pride.</p>
+
+<p>“You a physician!” exclaimed Berty, “and now
+a tramp!”</p>
+
+<p>“A tramp pure and simple.”</p>
+
+<p>“What made you give up your profession?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I was born lazy, and then I drank, and
+I drink, and I always shall drink.”</p>
+
+<p>“A drunkard!” murmured Berty, pityingly.
+“Poor fellow!”</p>
+
+<p>The man looked at her curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“How old are you?” she asked, suddenly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Forty-five.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you tried to reform?”</p>
+
+<p>“Formerly&mdash;not now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, how queer people are,” said the girl, musingly.
+“How little I can understand you. How
+little you can understand me. Now if I could only
+get inside your mind, and know what you are thinking
+about.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m thinking about my supper, lady,” he said,
+flippantly; then, as she looked carefully at him, he
+went on, carelessly, “Once I was young like you.
+Now I don’t go in for sentiment. I feed and sleep.
+That’s all I care about.”</p>
+
+<p>“And do you do no work?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a stroke.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you have no money?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a cent.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how do you live?”</p>
+
+<p>“Off good people like you,” he said, wheedlingly.
+“You’re going to give me a hot supper, I guess.”</p>
+
+<p>“Follow me,” said Berty, suddenly setting off
+toward the city, and the man sauntered after her.</p>
+
+<p>When they reached River Street, she opened the
+gate leading into the yard and beckoned to him.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t take you in the house,” she said, in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
+low voice, as he followed her. “My grandmother is
+ill, and then our house is very clean.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I am very unclean,” he said, jocularly surveying
+himself, “though I’m by no means as bad
+as an ash-heap tramp.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I’ll put you into the shed,” continued Berty.
+“There are only a few guinea-pigs there. They are
+quiet little things, and won’t hurt you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope you won’t give me husks for supper,”
+murmured the tramp.</p>
+
+<p>Berty eyed him severely. His condition to her
+was too serious for jesting, and she by no means
+approved of his attempts at humour.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll bring you out something to eat,” she said,
+“and if you want to stay all night, I’ll drag you
+out a mattress.”</p>
+
+<p>“I accept your offer with thankfulness, lady,” he
+replied.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.<br />
+<span class="smaller">TOM’S INTERVENTION</span></h2>
+
+<p>About eight o’clock that evening Tom Everest
+ran in to bring Berty some rare wild flowers that
+he had found in an excursion to the country.</p>
+
+<p>“How is your grandmother?” he asked. “I
+hear she is ill.”</p>
+
+<p>“Better,” whispered Berty. “Bonny is with her,
+but I’ve got another trouble.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is it?” inquired Tom, tenderly.</p>
+
+<p>They were standing in the front hall, and he bent
+his head low to hear what she said.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s a tramp out in the wood-shed,” she
+went on, “and I don’t know what to do with him.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go put him out,” said Tom, promptly starting
+toward the back hall.</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, I don’t want him put out. Come back,
+Tom. I want you to help me do something for
+him. Just think, he was once a doctor. He cured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
+other people, and couldn’t cure himself. He drinks
+like a fish.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ll find a place for him to disport himself
+other than this,” said Tom, decidedly. “He isn’t
+going to spend the night in your back yard.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Tom, don’t be foolish. He is as quiet as
+a lamb. He hasn’t been drinking to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>“I tell you, Berty, he’s got to come out. If you
+make a fuss, I’ll call Bonny down.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Tom Everest, you ought to be ashamed
+of yourself. Your face is as red as a beet. What
+about the Golden Rule?”</p>
+
+<p>“I beg your pardon, Berty,” said Tom, trying to
+look calm, “but I know more about tramps than you
+do. This fellow may be a thief.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tom&mdash;suppose you were the thief, and the
+thief were you? Would you like him to talk about
+you that way?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I’d enjoy it. Come, Berty, lead the way.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you want to do with him?” asked the
+girl, curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Put him in the street.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, suppose he is a thief. He may rob your
+neighbour’s house.”</p>
+
+<p>“My neighbour can look out for himself.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t mean that,” said Berty, quickly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>
+“Please do find this man a good place for the night.
+Keep him out of harm.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Berty, it won’t do any good. I know those
+fellows. They are thoroughly demoralized. You
+might just as well let this one go.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go where?” asked the girl, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>“To his appointed place.”</p>
+
+<p>The two young people stood staring at each other
+for a few minutes, then Berty said, seriously, “Tom
+Everest, you are a moral, upright man.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom modestly cast his eyes to the oilcloth on the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>“How many other young men are there like
+you in the republic?” pursued Berty.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” he said, demurely.</p>
+
+<p>“How many tramps are there?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know that&mdash;thousands and thousands,
+I guess.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, suppose every honest young man took a
+poor, miserable tramp under his protection. Suppose
+he looked out for him, fed him, clothed him,
+and kept him from being a prey on society?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should say that would be a most undesirable
+plan for the young men,” said Tom, dryly. “I’d be
+afraid they’d get demoralized themselves, and all
+turn tramps. It’s easier to loaf than to work.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Tom,” said Berty, firmly, “this is my tramp.
+I found him, I brought him home, I have a duty
+toward him. I can’t protect all the tramps in the
+Union, but I can prevent this one from going on
+and being a worry to society. Why, he might
+meet some timid girl to-morrow and frighten her
+to death.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oho! he tried to scare you, did he?” asked
+Tom, keenly.</p>
+
+<p>“He asked me for money,” repeated Berty, “but
+of course I didn’t let him have it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell me all about it.”</p>
+
+<p>When she finished, Tom laughed softly. “So
+this is the gentleman you want me to befriend?”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you feel revengeful toward him?” asked
+Berty.</p>
+
+<p>“I’d like to horsewhip him.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the way I felt at first. Then I said to
+myself, ‘Berty Gravely, you’ve got to get every
+revengeful feeling out of your head before you
+can benefit that man. What’s the use of being
+angry with him? You only stultify yourself. Try
+to find out how you can do him good.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Berty,” interposed Tom, with a gesture of
+despair, “don’t talk mawkish, sickly sentimentality<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
+to me. Don’t throw honey water over tin cans, and
+expect them to blossom like the rose.”</p>
+
+<p>“They will blossom, they can blossom,” said
+Berty, persistently, “and even if they won’t blossom,
+take your old tin cans, clean them, and set them
+on end. Don’t kick them in the gutter.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you want me to do?” asked Tom,
+helplessly. “I see you have some plan in your
+mind.”</p>
+
+<p>This was Berty’s chance, and for a few minutes
+she so staggered him by her eloquence that he sank
+on the staircase, and, feebly propping his head on
+his hand, stared uninterruptedly at her.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been thinking hard,” she said, in low,
+dramatic tones, “very, very hard for two hours,
+as I sat by Grandma’s bed. What can we do for
+wrecks of humanity? Shall we pet them, coddle
+them, spoil them, as you speak of doing? Not at
+all. We’ve got to do something, but we mustn’t be
+foolish. This tramp is like some wet, soggy piece
+of wood floating down our river. It doesn’t know,
+feel, nor care. You mustn’t give it a push and send
+it further down the stream, but pull it ashore, and&mdash;and&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“And dry it, and make a fire and burn it,” said
+Tom, briskly. “I don’t like your simile, Berty.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“It was unfortunate,” said the girl. “I will start
+again. I approve of societies and churches and
+clubs&mdash;I think they do splendid work, and if, in
+addition to what they do, every one of us would
+just reach out a helping hand to one solitary person
+in the world, how different things would be. We
+would have a paradise here below. It’s wicked,
+Tom, to say, ‘That is a worthless person, let him
+go&mdash;you can do nothing for him.’ Now I’ve got
+a plan for this tramp, and I want you to help me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know you have, and I wouldn’t mind hearing
+it, but I don’t think I’ll help you, Berty. I don’t
+favour the gentry of the road.”</p>
+
+<p>“This is my plan,” said Berty, unheedingly;
+“but first let me say that I will make a concession
+to you. You may take the tramp with you, put him
+in a comfortable room for the night, see that he
+has a good bed, and a good breakfast in the morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, thank you, thank you,” murmured the
+young man. “You are so very kind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t give him any money,” continued Berty,
+seriously, “and if you can keep him locked up without
+hurting his feelings, I wish you would&mdash;but
+don’t blight his self-respect.”</p>
+
+<p>“His what?” asked Tom, mildly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“His self-respect&mdash;even an animal must be protected
+in that way. Don’t you know that a dog
+gets well a great deal quicker, if you keep up his
+good opinion of himself?”</p>
+
+<p>“Does he?” murmured Tom. “I&mdash;I don’t
+know. I fear I have sometimes helped to lessen
+a dog’s good opinion of himself.”</p>
+
+<p>“And, furthermore,” pursued Berty, “I want
+that tramp to stay in Riverport. He’s going to be
+my tramp, Tom, and yours, too, if you will be
+good.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I will be good, Berty, extra good to deserve
+a partnership like that.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you and I will look out for him. Now I’ve
+been wondering what employment we can find for
+him, for of course you know it isn’t good for any
+man to live in idleness.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just so, Berty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we must be very cautious about what
+work we find for him, for he hasn’t worked for
+years.”</p>
+
+<p>“Something light and genteel, Berty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Light, but not so very genteel. He isn’t proud.
+He’s only unaccustomed to work. He talked quite
+frankly about himself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh&mdash;did he?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and do you know what I have decided?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I’m sure I don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I have just found the very thing for
+him, and I dare say, if you have any money laid
+aside, you may want to invest in it. First of all,
+I want you to hire Bobbetty’s Island.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bobbetty’s Island&mdash;out in the river&mdash;old man
+Bobbetty’s?”</p>
+
+<p>“The same, Tom.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ghost thrown in?”</p>
+
+<p>“I want you to hire it,” said Berty, severely,
+“and get some of your friends to make up a party,
+and go down there and put up a big, comfortable
+camp for our tramp to live in.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why the island, Berty?” inquired Tom, in a
+suppressed voice. “Why not set him up in Grand
+Avenue. There’s a first-class family mansion to let
+there, three doors from us.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tom Everest, will you stop your fooling. Our
+tramp is to live on the island because if he were
+in the town he would spend half his time in drinking-places.”</p>
+
+<p>“But won’t the river be suggestive, Berty? It
+would to me, and I’m not a drinking man.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, of course not&mdash;he will have his work to
+do, and twice a week I want you to row over yourself,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+or get some one to go and bring him to town,
+for he would go crazy if he were left there alone
+all the time.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wonder you don’t get a companion for him.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going to try. He has a wife, a nice woman
+in New Hampshire, who left him on account of his
+drinking habits. He says she will come back to
+him if he gets a good situation and promises to
+reform.”</p>
+
+<p>“Has he promised?” asked Tom, acutely.</p>
+
+<p>“He said he would think about it. I rather liked
+him for the hesitation, for of course he is completely
+out of the way of continuous application to anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what business, may I ask, are you going
+to establish him in? You seemed to be hinting at
+something.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am going to start a cat farm, and put him
+in charge,” replied Berty, with the air of one making
+a great revelation.</p>
+
+<p>“A cat farm,” echoed Tom, weakly, then, entirely
+collapsing, he rolled over on his side on the staircase
+and burst into silent and convulsive laughter.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.<br />
+<span class="smaller">TRAMP PHILOSOPHY</span></h2>
+
+<p>“What are you two giggling about?” asked a
+sudden voice, and Berty, looking up from the hall,
+and Tom, from the staircase, saw Bonny standing
+on the steps above them.</p>
+
+<p>“Meow, meow,” murmured Tom, in a scarcely
+audible voice.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s up with him, Berty?” asked Bonny,
+good-naturedly.</p>
+
+<p>“I think his head must be growing weak,” said
+the girl. “Everything lately seems to amuse him.
+If you hold up a finger, he goes into fits of laughter.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Tom,” said Bonny, “and once he was a
+joy to his friends&mdash;I say, old man, uncurl yourself
+and tell us the joke.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go ’way, Berty,” ejaculated Tom, partly
+straightening himself, “go ’way. You hate to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>
+me laugh. Just like all girls. They haven’t any
+more sense of humour than sticks.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bonny,” said Berty, turning to her brother,
+“how is Grandma?”</p>
+
+<p>“Asleep, and resting quietly.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go sit beside her,” said the girl; then, turning
+to her visitor, “Tom Everest, are you going
+to do that commission for me, or are you not?
+I’ve stood a good deal from you to-night. Just
+one word more, and I take it from you and give
+it to Bonny.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m ready and willing if it’s anything good,”
+said the light-haired boy.</p>
+
+<p>“Sha’n’t have it, Bonny,” said Tom, staggering to
+his feet. “That jewel is mine. I’ll love and cherish
+him, Berty, until to-morrow afternoon, then I’ll
+report to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good night, then,” said Berty, “and don’t make
+a noise, or you’ll wake Grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come on, Bonny, let’s interview Berty’s treasure,”
+exclaimed Tom, seizing his hat.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it?” inquired Bonny, curiously, following
+him through the hall.</p>
+
+<p>“A black pearl. Didn’t she tell you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I haven’t been here long. We were busy
+at the works.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Without speaking, Tom led the way down the
+back staircase, through the lower hall, and out to
+the wood-shed at the back of the house.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen to it,” he said to Bonny, with his hand
+on the door-knob.</p>
+
+<p>“Who is snoring in there?” said the boy, quickly.</p>
+
+<p>“One of your sister’s bits of driftwood. I’ve got
+to haul this one into port.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wish Berty would look out for number one, and
+let number two, and three, and four, and five, take
+care of themselves,” said the lad, irritably. Then
+he suddenly recollected himself. “I suppose I am
+a brute, but I do hate dirty people. Berty is an
+angel compared with me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hello,” said Tom, opening the door and scratching
+a match to light the candle in a lantern hanging
+near him.</p>
+
+<p>There was no response. Tom held the lantern
+and pushed the sleeping man with his foot.</p>
+
+<p>“Here, you&mdash;wake up.”</p>
+
+<p>The man rolled over, blinking at them in the
+light. “Hello, comrade, what you want?”</p>
+
+<p>“Get up,” said Tom, commandingly.</p>
+
+<p>“What for?” asked the sleeper, yawningly.</p>
+
+<p>“To get out of this. I’ll find you another sleeping-place.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come, comrade,” said the man, remonstratingly,
+“this is cruelty to animals. I was having
+the sleep of my life&mdash;like drugged sleep&mdash;takes me
+back to my boyhood. Move on, and let me begin
+again. Your diamonds are safe to-night. I’ve had
+a first-class supper, and I’m having a first-class
+sleep. I wouldn’t get up to finger the jewels of
+the Emperor of Russia.”</p>
+
+<p>“Get up,” said Tom, inexorably.</p>
+
+<p>“Let him stay,” said Bonny. “I’m going to
+be here all night. If he gets dangerous, I’ll take
+the poker.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you’re going to stay all night,” remarked
+Tom. “Very good, then. I’ll come early in the
+morning and get him out of this.”</p>
+
+<p>“Talking about me, gentlemen?” asked the man,
+sleepily.</p>
+
+<p>Tom and Bonny stared at him.</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t done anything bad yet,” said the
+tramp, meekly, “unless I may have corrupted a
+few of those guinea-pigs by using bad language.
+They’re the most inquisitive creatures I ever saw.
+Stuck their noses in my food, and most took it away
+from me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who are you?” asked Bonny, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>“A poor, broken-down sailor, sir,” whined the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
+man. “Turned out of his vessel the first day in
+port, because he had a little weakness of the heart.”</p>
+
+<p>“I heard you were a doctor,” interposed Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“So I was this afternoon, sir. That nice young
+lady said I looked like a sailor, so I thought I’d
+be one to please her.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re a first-class liar, anyway,” said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>The man rolled over on his back and sleepily
+blinked at him. “That I am, sir. If you’d hear
+the different stories I tell to charitable ladies, you’d
+fall down in a fit. They’re too funny for words.”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny was staring at him with wide-open eyes.
+He had never spoken to a tramp before in his life.
+If he saw one on the right side of the street, he
+immediately crossed to the left.</p>
+
+<p>“I say,” he began, with a fastidious curl of his
+lip, “it must be mighty queer not to know in the
+morning where you are going to lay your head at
+night. Queer, and mighty uncomfortable.”</p>
+
+<p>“So it is, young man, till you get used to it,”
+responded the tramp, amiably.</p>
+
+<p>Bonny’s countenance expressed the utmost disdain,
+and suddenly the tramp raised himself on an
+elbow. “Can you think of me, my fine lad, young
+and clean and as good-looking as you are?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I can’t,” said Bonny, frankly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Fussy about my tailor,” continued the man.
+“Good heavens, just think of it&mdash;I, bothering
+about the cut of my coat. But I was, and I did,
+and I’ve come down to be a trailer over the roads.”</p>
+
+<p>“How can persons take a jump like that?” said
+the boy, musingly.</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t a jump,” pursued the tramp, lazily, “it’s
+a slide. You move a few inches each day. I’m
+something of a philosopher, and I often look back
+on my career. I’ve lots of time to think, as you
+may imagine. Now, gentlemen, you wouldn’t
+imagine where my slide into trampdom began.”</p>
+
+<p>“You didn’t start from the gutter, anyway,”
+remarked Bonny, “for you talk like a gentleman.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re right, young man. I can talk the slang
+of the road. I’ve been broken to it, but I won’t
+waste it on you, for you wouldn’t understand it&mdash;well,
+my first push downward was given me by my
+mother.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your mother?” echoed Bonny, in disgust.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, young sir&mdash;one of the best women that
+ever lived. She held me out to the devil, when she allowed
+me to kick the cat because it had made me
+fall.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense,” said Bonny, sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“Not nonsense, but sound sense, sir. That was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
+the beginning of the lack of self-restraint. Did I
+want her best cap to tear to ribbons? I got it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, get out,” interposed Tom, crossly. “You
+needn’t tell us that all spoiled children go to the
+bad.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good London, no,” said the man, with a laugh.
+“Look at our millionaires. Could you find on the
+face of the earth a more absolute autocrat, a more
+heartless, up-to-date, determined-to-have-his-own-way,
+let-the-rest-of-you-go-to-the-dogs kind of a
+man, than the average American millionaire?”</p>
+
+<p>The two young men eyed each other, and Bonny
+murmured, “You are an extremist.”</p>
+
+<p>“It began away back,” continued the tramp, now
+thoroughly roused from his sleepy condition.
+“When our forefathers came from England, they
+brought that ugly, I’m-going-to-have-my-own-way
+spirit with them. Talk about the severity of England
+precipitating the Revolution. If they hadn’t
+made a revolution for us, we’d made one to order.
+Did you ever read about the levelling spirit of those
+days? I tell you this American nation is queer&mdash;it’s
+harder for a real, true blue son of the soil to
+keep straight, than it is for the son of any other
+nation under the heaven. We lack self-restraint.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
+We’ll go to the bad if we want to, and none shall
+hinder us.”</p>
+
+<p>The tramp paused for a minute in his semi-lazy,
+semi-animated discourse, and Tom, feeling that
+some remark was expected from him, said feebly,
+“You’re quite a moralizer.”</p>
+
+<p>The tramp did not hear him. “I tell you,” he
+said, extending a dirty hand, “we’re the biggest,
+grandest, foolishest people on earth. We’re the
+nation of the future. We’ll govern the earth, and
+at the same time fail in governing ourselves. Look
+at the lynchings we have. The United States has
+the highest murder rate of any civilized country in
+the world. The average American will be a decent,
+moral, pay-his-bills sort of man, and yet he’ll have
+more tolerance for personal violence than a Turk
+has.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re a queer man,” said Bonny, musingly.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ve got to have more law and order,” pursued
+the tramp. “The mothers have got to make
+their little ones eat their mush, or porridge, as they
+say over the line in Canada&mdash;not fling it out the
+window to the dogs. I tell you that’s where it begins,
+just where every good and bad thing begins&mdash;in
+the cradle. The average mother has too much
+respect for the squallings of her Young America.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+Let her spank him once in awhile, and keep him
+out of sight of the eagle.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you suppose,” said Bonny, solemnly, “that
+if you had been well spanked you would not be
+lying here?”</p>
+
+<p>“Suppose,” repeated the tramp, leaning back, “I
+don’t suppose anything about it. I know it. If
+my mother and father had made me mind them,
+and kept me in nights, and trained me into decent,
+self-respecting manhood, I’d be standing beside you
+to-night, young sirs, beside you&mdash;beyond you&mdash;for
+I guess from your bearing you are only young
+men of average ability, and I tell you I was a power,
+when I’d study and let the drink alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“You must have had a strange mother,” remarked
+Bonny.</p>
+
+<p>The tramp suddenly raised himself again, and his
+sunburnt face grew redder. “For the love of
+Heaven,” he said, extending one ragged arm, “don’t
+say a word against her. The thought of her is the
+only thing that moves me. She loved me, and, unclean,
+characterless wretch that I am, she would
+love me yet if she were still alive.”</p>
+
+<p>The man’s head sank on his arm, but not quickly
+enough. Tom and Bonny had both seen glistening
+in his eyes, not the one jewel they were jestingly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>
+in search of, but two priceless jewels that were not
+pearls, but diamonds.</p>
+
+<p>“Come on, Bonny,” said Tom, roughly, as he
+drew him from the shed.</p>
+
+<p>“Tom,” remarked Bonny, softly, as they went
+slowly up-stairs, “Berty wants you to do something
+for that fellow, doesn’t she?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think it is of any use?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you going to try?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny made no further remarks until some time
+later, when they were standing on the front door-step,
+then he asked, thoughtfully, “What does
+Berty want you to do, Tom?”</p>
+
+<p>“Start a cat-farm.”</p>
+
+<p>“A cat-farm! What kind of cats?”</p>
+
+<p>“Gutter cats, back yard cats, disreputable cats,
+I should guess from the character of the superintendent
+she has chosen,” replied Tom, gruffly.</p>
+
+<p>“The superintendent being the tramp,” said
+Bonny, slyly.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no one else in question,” responded
+Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“I think you are wrong about the nature of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+beasts,” continued Bonny. “I believe Berty means
+pet cats&mdash;Angoras, and so on.”</p>
+
+<p>“What sort are they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mean to say you haven’t noticed them?
+It’s the latest cry among the women&mdash;‘Give me a
+long-haired cat!’ Mrs. Darley-James has a beauty&mdash;snow-white
+with blue eyes.”</p>
+
+<p>“All nonsense&mdash;these society women don’t know
+what to do to kill time.”</p>
+
+<p>“They’re not all society women that have them.
+Old Mrs. McCarthy has a pair of dandies&mdash;and
+I find that the women who take up cat-culture are
+more kind to back yard tabbies.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe you’re right, Bonny. I don’t call round
+on these women as you do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Bonny, apologetically, “I don’t see
+any harm in putting on your best coat and hat,
+and doing a woman who has invited you to her house
+the compliment of calling on her day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, dressing up,” said Tom, “is such a nuisance.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t call on many that you’d be bothered
+with calling on without it. Sydney Gray tried calling
+on Margaretta on her day in a bicycle suit. He
+had ridden fifty miles, and was hot and dusty and
+perspiring. He had the impudence to go into Margaretta’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>
+spick and span rooms and ask for a cup
+of tea. She was so sweet to him that he came
+away hugging himself&mdash;but he never got asked
+there again, and every once in awhile he says to
+some one, ‘Queer, isn’t it, that Mrs. Stanisfield
+gives me the go-by. I don’t know what I’ve done
+to offend her.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Suppose we come back to Berty,” observed
+Tom. “If all the women here have cats, what
+does she want to start a farm for?”</p>
+
+<p>“The women aren’t all supplied. The demand
+is increasing, and many would buy here that
+wouldn’t send away for one. Berty is more shrewd
+than you think. These cats sell for five and six
+dollars apiece at the least, and some are as high
+as twenty. I shouldn’t a bit wonder if it would
+turn out to be a good business speculation.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then, you just meet some of the fellows
+in my office to-morrow evening and arrange for a
+house and lot for this man who is to boss the cats,”
+said Tom, dryly.</p>
+
+<p>“All right, I’ll come&mdash;maybe Roger will, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good night,” said Tom, “I’m off.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good night,” returned Bonny, laconically, and,
+standing with his hands thrust in his pockets, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>
+was looking down the street, when Tom suddenly
+turned back.</p>
+
+<p>“I say, Bonny, your grandmother must have a
+good history of the Revolution.”</p>
+
+<p>“She has two or three.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ask her to lend me one, will you? I half forget
+what I learned in school.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir; I’ll bring it to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom really went this time, and as he quickly
+disappeared from sight, Bonny, from his station on
+the door-step, kept muttering to himself, “Slipping
+through life, slipping through life. How easy to
+get on that greased path!”</p>
+
+<p>“What are you saying to yourself?” asked a
+brisk voice.</p>
+
+<p>Bonny, turning sharply, found Berty beside him.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing much&mdash;only that I was hungry. Let’s
+see what’s in the pantry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bonny, if I show you where there is a pie, the
+most beautiful pumpkin pie you ever saw, will you
+help me with my tramp?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll do it for half a pie,” said Bonny, generously.
+“Come on, you young monkey.”</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.<br />
+<span class="smaller">AT THE BOARD OF WATER-WORKS</span></h2>
+
+<p>“There she comes,” murmured one of the clerks,
+in the board of water-works offices.</p>
+
+<p>“Who?” murmured the other clerk.</p>
+
+<p>“The beggar-girl,” responded the first one.</p>
+
+<p>The chairman of the board heard them, and
+looked fearfully over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Roger, Tom, and Bonny knew that Berty’s frequent
+visits to the city hall had gained for her a
+nickname, occasioned by the character of her visits.
+She was always urging the claims of the poor, hence
+she was classed with them. They carefully shielded
+from her the knowledge of this nickname, and supposed
+she knew nothing of it.</p>
+
+<p>However, she did know. Some whisper of the
+“beggar-girl” had reached her ears, and was a
+matter of chagrin to her.</p>
+
+<p>The chairman of the board of water-works knew
+all about her. He knew that if the clerks had seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
+her passing along the glass corridor outside his
+office she was probably coming to him; she probably
+wanted something.</p>
+
+<p>One clerk was his nephew, the other his second
+cousin, so he was on terms of familiarity with them,
+and at the present moment was in the outer office
+discussing with them the chances that a certain bill
+had of passing the city council.</p>
+
+<p>The door of his own inner office stood open, but
+of what use to take refuge there? If the beggar-girl
+really wished to see a man on business, she
+always waited for him.</p>
+
+<p>He looked despairingly about him. A high, old-fashioned
+desk stood near. Under it was a foot-stool.
+As a knock came at the door, he ungracefully
+folded his long, lank limbs, quickly sat down on
+the foot-stool, and said, in a low voice, “I’ve gone
+to Portland for a week!” Then he fearfully awaited
+results.</p>
+
+<p>Berty, followed by her friend, the mongrel pup,
+walked into the room and asked if Mr. Morehall
+were in.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said the second cousin, gravely, “he has
+been called to Portland on important business&mdash;will
+be gone a week.”</p>
+
+<p>The girl’s face clouded; she stood leaning against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
+the railing that separated the room into two parts,
+and, as she did so, her weight pushed open the gate
+that the second cousin had just hastily swung together.</p>
+
+<p>The pup ran in, and being of quick wits and an
+inquiring disposition wondered what that man was
+doing curled up in a corner, instead of being on
+his feet like the other two.</p>
+
+<p>He began to sniff round him. Perhaps there
+was something peculiar about him. No&mdash;he
+seemed to be like other men, a trifle anxious and
+red-faced, perhaps, but still normal. He gave a
+playful bark, as if to say, “I dare you to come out.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty heard him, and turned swiftly. “Mugwump,
+if you worry another rat, I’ll never give you
+a walk again.”</p>
+
+<p>The two young men were in a quandary. Whether
+to go to the assistance of their chief, or whether to
+affect indifference, was vexing their clerical souls.
+Berty, more quick-witted than the pup, was prompt
+to notice their peculiar expressions.</p>
+
+<p>“Please don’t let him worry a rat,” she said,
+beseechingly, “it makes him so cruel. Rats have
+a dreadfully hard time! Oh, please call him off.
+He’s got it in his mouth. I hear him.”</p>
+
+<p>The chairman, in his perplexity, had thrown him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+a glove from his pocket, and Mugwump was mouthing
+and chewing it deliciously.</p>
+
+<p>“He’ll kill it,” exclaimed Berty. “Oh! let me
+in,” and before the confused clerks could prevent
+her, she had pushed open the gate and had followed
+the dog.</p>
+
+<p>Her face was a study. Low down on the floor
+sat the deceiving chairman, with Mugwump prancing
+before him.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Morehall!” she exclaimed; then she stopped.</p>
+
+<p>The chairman, with a flaming face, unfolded his
+long limbs, crawled out of his retreat, stumbled
+over the dog, partly fell, recovered himself, and
+finally got to his feet. After throwing an indignant
+glance at the two clerks, who were in a pitiable state
+of restrained merriment, he concentrated his attention
+on Berty. She blushed, too, as she divined
+what had been the case.</p>
+
+<p>“You were trying to hide from me,” she said,
+after a long pause.</p>
+
+<p>He could not deny it, though he stammered something
+about it being a warm day, and the lower part
+of the desk being a cool retreat.</p>
+
+<p>“Now you are telling me a story,” said Berty,
+sternly, “you, the chairman of the board of water-works&mdash;a
+city official, afraid of me!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He said nothing, and she went on, wistfully,
+“Am I, then, so terrible? Do you men all hate the
+beggar-girl?”</p>
+
+<p>Her three hearers immediately fell into a state
+of shamefacedness.</p>
+
+<p>“What have I done?” she continued, sadly,
+“what have I done to be so disliked?”</p>
+
+<p>No one answered her, and she went on. “When
+I lived on Grand Avenue and thought only of
+amusing myself, everybody liked me. Why is it
+that every one hates me since I went to River Street
+and am trying to make myself useful?”</p>
+
+<p>To Mr. Morehall’s dismay, her lip was quivering,
+and big tears began to roll down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>“Come in here,” he said, leading the way to
+his own room.</p>
+
+<p>Berty sat down in an armchair and quietly continued
+to cry, while Mr. Morehall eyed her with
+distress and increasing anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>“Have a glass of water, do,” said the tall man,
+seizing a pitcher near him, “and don’t feel bad.
+Upon my word, I didn’t know what I was doing.”</p>
+
+<p>“It&mdash;it isn’t you only,” gasped Berty. “It is
+everybody. Please excuse me, but I am tired and
+worried this morning. I’ve had some sick friends
+on our street&mdash;that’s what I came to see you about.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
+The autumn is starting in so dry that we are almost
+choked with dust. River Street hasn’t been watered
+for a week.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hasn’t it?” said Mr. Morehall, slowly.</p>
+
+<p>“Grand Avenue was always watered,” continued
+Berty, as she rested her head against the back of
+the chair, “even soaked. I never thought about
+dust in summer. Why is River Street neglected?”</p>
+
+<p>“River Street citizens don’t pay such heavy
+taxes,” suggested Mr. Morehall.</p>
+
+<p>“But they pay all they can, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor people are shiftless,” said the official, with
+a shrug of his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s what everybody says,” exclaimed Berty,
+despairingly. “All well-to-do people that I talk
+to dismiss the poorer classes in that way. But poor
+people aren’t all shiftless.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not all, perhaps,” said Mr. Morehall, amiably,
+and with inward rejoicing that Berty was wiping
+away her tears.</p>
+
+<p>“And there must be poor people,” continued
+Berty. “We can’t all be rich. It’s impossible.
+Who would work for the prosperous, if all were
+independent?”</p>
+
+<p>“What I meant,” replied Mr. Morehall, “was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>
+that poverty is very often the result of a lack of
+personal exertion on the part of the poor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, but I am not just now advocating the
+cause of the helpless. It is rather the claims of the
+respectable poor. I know heaps of people on River
+Street who have only a pittance to live on. Their
+parents had only the same. They are not dissipated.
+They work hard and pay what they can to the city.
+My argument is that these poorer children of the
+city should be especially well looked after, just as
+in a family the delicate or afflicted child is the most
+petted.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now you are aiming at the ideal,” said Mr.
+Morehall, with an uneasy smile.</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, not the ideal, but the practical. Some
+one was telling me what the city has to spend for
+prisons, hospitals, and our asylums. Why, it would
+pay us a thousandfold better to take care of these
+people before they get to be a burden on us.”</p>
+
+<p>“They are so abominably ungrateful,” muttered
+Mr. Morehall.</p>
+
+<p>“And so would I be,” exclaimed Berty, “if I
+were always having charity flung in my face. Let
+the city give the poor their rights. They ask no
+more. It’s no disgrace to be born poor. But if I am
+a working girl in River Street I must lodge in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
+worm-eaten, rat-haunted tenement-house. I must
+rise from an unwholesome bed, and put on badly
+made, uncomfortable clothing. I must eat a scanty
+breakfast, and go to toil in a stuffy, unventilated
+room. I must come home at night to my dusty, unwatered
+street, and then I must, before I go to sleep,
+kneel down and thank God that I live in a Christian
+country&mdash;why, it’s enough to make one a pagan
+just to think of it! I don’t see why the poor don’t
+organize. They are meeker than I would be. It
+makes me wild to see River Street neglected. If any
+street is left unwatered, it ought to be Grand Avenue
+rather than River Street, for the rich have gardens
+and can go to the country, while the poor must live
+on the street in summer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now you are oppressing the rich,” said Mr.
+Morehall, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>“Heaven forbid,” said the girl, wearily. “Equal
+rights for all&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“The poor have a good friend in you,” he said,
+with reluctant admiration.</p>
+
+<p>“Will you have our street watered, sir?” asked
+Berty, rising.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll try to. I’ll have to ask for an appropriation.
+We’ll want another cart and horse, and an extra
+man.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“That means delay,” said Berty, despairingly,
+“and in the meantime the dust blows about in
+clouds. It enters the windows and settles on the
+tables and chairs. It chokes the lungs of consumptives
+struggling for breath, and little babies gasping
+for air. Then the mothers put the windows down,
+and they breathe over and over again the polluted
+air. And this is stifling autumn weather&mdash;come
+spend a day in River Street, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Gravely,” said the man, with a certain
+frank bluntness and good-will, “excuse my plain
+speaking, but you enthuse too much. Those poor
+people aren’t made of the same stuff that you are.
+They don’t suffer to the extent that you do under
+the same conditions.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty was about to leave the room, but she turned
+round on him with flashing eyes. “Do you mean to
+say that God has created two sets of creatures&mdash;one
+set with fine nerves and sensitive bodies, the other
+callous and unsensitive to comfort or discomfort?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s about the measure of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And where would you draw the line?” she
+asked, with assumed calmness.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Morehall did not know Berty well. His
+family, though one of the highest respectability,
+moved in another circle. If he had had the pleasure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
+of an intimate acquaintance with the energetic young
+person before him, he would have known that her
+compressed lips, her half-closed eyes, and her tense
+forehead betokened an overwhelming and suppressed
+anger.</p>
+
+<p>Therefore, unaware of the drawn sword suspended
+over his head, he went on, unsuspiciously. “To tell
+the truth, I think there’s a lot in heredity. Now
+there are some families you never find scrabbling
+round for something to eat. I never heard of a poor
+Gravely, or a Travers, or a Stanisfield, or a Morehall.
+It’s in the blood to get on. No one can down
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>He paused consequentially, and Berty, biting her
+lip, waited for him to go on. However, happening
+to look at the clock, he stopped short. This talk
+was interesting, but he would like to get back to
+business.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Morehall,” said Berty, in a still voice, “do
+you know that there are a legion of poor Traverses
+up in the northern part of the State, that Grandma
+used to send boxes to every month?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” he said, in surprise, “I never heard that.”</p>
+
+<p>“And old Mr. Stanisfield took two of his own
+cousins out of the poorhouse three years ago, and
+supports them?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“You astonish me,” murmured the confused
+man.</p>
+
+<p>“And, moreover,” continued Berty, with a new
+gleam in her eye, “since you have been frank with
+me, I may be frank with you, and say that two of
+the people for whom I want River Street made
+sweet and wholesome are old Abner Morehall and
+his wife, from Cloverdale.”</p>
+
+<p>“Abner Morehall!” exclaimed the man, incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, Abner Morehall, your own uncle.”</p>
+
+<p>“But&mdash;I didn’t know&mdash;why didn’t he tell?&mdash;”
+stammered Mr. Morehall, confusedly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes&mdash;why do you suppose he didn’t tell you?”
+said Berty. “That’s the blood&mdash;the better blood
+than that of paupers. He was ashamed to have you
+know of his misfortune.”</p>
+
+<p>“He thought I wouldn’t help him,” burst out
+her companion, and, with shame and chagrin in his
+eyes, he sat down at the table and put his hand to
+his head. “It’s those confounded notes,” he said,
+at last. “I often told him he ought never to put
+his name to paper.”</p>
+
+<p>“It was his generosity and kindness&mdash;his implicit
+faith in his fellow men,” continued Berty,
+warmly; “and now, Mr. Morehall, can you say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
+that ‘blood,’ or shrewdness, or anything else, will
+always keep misfortune from a certain family? Who
+is to assure you that your great-great-grandchildren
+will not be living on River Street?”</p>
+
+<p>No one could assure the disturbed man that this
+contingency might not arise, and, lifting his head,
+he gazed at Berty as if she were some bird of ill-omen.</p>
+
+<p>“You will come to see your relatives, I suppose?”
+she murmured.</p>
+
+<p>He made an assenting gesture with his hand.</p>
+
+<p>“They are two dear old people. They give tone
+to the street&mdash;and you will send a watering-cart
+this afternoon?”</p>
+
+<p>He made another assenting gesture. He did not
+care to talk, and Berty slipped quietly from his
+office.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.<br />
+<span class="smaller">SELINA’S WEDDING</span></h2>
+
+<p>Selina Everest and the Mayor were married.</p>
+
+<p>On one of the loveliest of autumn mornings, the
+somewhat mature bride had been united in the holy
+bonds of matrimony to the somewhat mature bridegroom,
+and now, in the old family mansion of the
+Everests, they were receiving the congratulations
+of their numerous friends. Selina had had a church
+wedding. That she insisted on, greatly to the distress
+and confusion of her modest husband. He
+had walked up the aisle of the church as if to his
+hanging. One minute he went from red to purple,
+from purple to violent perspiration, the next he
+became as if wrapped in an ice-cold sheet, and not
+until then could he recover himself.</p>
+
+<p>But now it was all over. This congratulatory
+business was nothing compared to the agonizing
+experience of being in a crowded church, the shrinking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>
+target for hundreds of criticizing, shining, awful
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, he was in an ecstasy to think the ordeal was
+over. Selina never would have made him go through
+it, if she had had the faintest conception of what
+his sufferings would be.</p>
+
+<p>She had enjoyed it. All women enjoy that sort
+of thing. They are not awkward. How can they
+be, with their sweeping veils and trailing robes?
+He had felt like a fence-post, a rail&mdash;anything
+stiff, and ugly, and uncomfortable, and in his heart
+of hearts he wondered that all those well-dressed
+men and women had not burst into shouts of laughter
+at him.</p>
+
+<p>Well, it was over&mdash;over, thank fortune. He
+never had been so glad to escape from anything in
+his life, as he had been to get out of the church and
+away from the crowd of people. That alone made
+him blissfully happy, and then, in addition, he had
+Selina.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her, and mechanically stretched out
+a hand to an advancing guest. Selina was his now.
+He not only was out of that church and never would
+have to go into it again for such a purpose as he
+had gone this morning, but Selina Everest was Mrs.
+Peter Jimson.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>He smiled an alarming smile at her, a smile so
+extraordinarily comprehensive, that she hurriedly
+asked under her breath if he were ill.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” he said, and, in so saying, clasped the hand
+of the advancing friend with such vigour, that the
+unhappy man retreated swiftly with his unspoken
+congratulations on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not ill,” he muttered. “I’m only a little
+flustered, Selina.”</p>
+
+<p>“Here’s Mrs. Short,” she said, hastily, “be nice
+to her. She’s a particular friend of mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“A fine day, ma’am,” murmured the Mayor;
+“yes, the crops seem good&mdash;ought to have rain,
+though.”</p>
+
+<p>Over by a French window opening on the lawn,
+Berty and Tom were watching the people and making
+comments.</p>
+
+<p>“Always get mixed up about a bride and groom,”
+volunteered Tom. “Always want to congratulate
+her, and hope that he’ll be happy. It’s the other
+way, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose so,” murmured Berty. “Oh, isn’t it
+a dream to think that they’re both happy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Makes one feel like getting married oneself,”
+said Tom.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes, doesn’t it? A wedding unsettles me. All
+the rest of the day I wish I were a bride.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you?” exclaimed Tom, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and then the next day I think what a goose
+I am. Being married means slavery to some man.
+You don’t have your own way at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Men never being slaves to their wives,” remarked
+Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“Men are by nature lordly, overbearing, proud-spirited,
+self-willed, tyrannical and provoking,” said
+Berty, sweepingly.</p>
+
+<p>But Tom’s thoughts had been diverted. “Say,
+Berty, where do those Tomkins girls get money
+to dress that way? They’re visions in those shining
+green things.”</p>
+
+<p>“They spend too much of their father’s money
+on dress,” replied Berty, severely. “Those satins
+came from Paris. They are an exquisite new shade
+of green. I forget what you call it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess old Tomkins is the slave there,” said
+Tom; then, to avoid controversy, he went on, hastily,
+“You look stunning in that white gown.”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought perhaps Selina would want me for a
+bridesmaid,” said Berty, plaintively, “but she
+didn’t.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Too young and foolish,” said Tom, promptly;
+“but, I say, Berty, where did you get the gown?”</p>
+
+<p>“Margaretta gave it to me. I was going to wear
+muslin, but she said I shouldn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“What is it anyway?” said Tom, putting out a
+cautious finger to touch the soft folds.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s silk, and if you knew how uncomfortable I
+am in it, you would pity me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Uncomfortable! You look as cool as a cucumber.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not. I wish I had on a serge skirt and a
+shirt-waist.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me get you something to eat,” he said,
+consolingly. “That going to church and standing
+about here are tiresome.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, do,” said Berty. “I hadn’t any breakfast,
+I was in such a hurry to get ready.”</p>
+
+<p>“Here are sandwiches and coffee to start with,”
+he said, presently coming back.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you&mdash;I am so glad Selina didn’t have
+a sit-down luncheon. This is much nicer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t it! You see, she didn’t want speeches.
+On an occasion like this, the Mayor would be so apt
+to get wound up that he would keep us here till
+midnight.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Berty laughed. “And they would have lost their
+train.”</p>
+
+<p>“There isn’t going to be any train,” said Tom,
+mysteriously.</p>
+
+<p>“Aren’t they going to New York?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“To Canada?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“To Europe?”</p>
+
+<p>“No&mdash;Jimson says he isn’t going to frizzle and
+fry in big cities in this lovely weather, unless Selina
+absolutely commands, and she doesn’t command, so
+he’s going to row her up the river to the Cloverdale
+Inn.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty put down her cup and saucer and began to
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“Where are those sandwiches?” asked Tom, trying
+to peer round the cup.</p>
+
+<p>“Gone,” said Berty, meekly.</p>
+
+<p>He brought her a new supply, then came cake,
+jellies, sweets, and fruit in rapid succession.</p>
+
+<p>Berty, standing partly behind a curtain by the
+open window, kept her admirer so busy that at last
+he partly rebelled.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 460px;" id="illus6">
+<img src="images/illus6.jpg" width="460" height="650" alt="" />
+<p class="caption">“‘A RIVER STREET DELEGATION,’ SAID TOM”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>“Look here, Berty,” he remarked, firmly, “I
+don’t want to be suspicious, but it’s utterly impossible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>
+for a girl of your weight and education
+to dispose of so much provender at a single standing.
+You’re up to some tricks with it. Have you
+got some River Street rats with you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” she said, smilingly. “Hush, don’t tell,”
+and, slightly pulling aside the curtain, she showed
+him four little heads in a clump of syringa bushes
+outside.</p>
+
+<p>“Newsboy Jim, and Johnny-Boy, and the two
+girls, Biddy Malone and Glorymaroo, as we call
+her, from her favourite exclamation,” continued
+Berty; “they wanted to see something of the
+Mayor’s marriage, and I let them come. I’ve been
+handing out ‘ruffreshments’ to them. Don’t scold
+them, Tom.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come right in, youngsters,” said the young
+man, heartily. “I’m sure Mr. Jimson is your Mayor
+as well as ours.”</p>
+
+<p>Without the slightest hesitation, the four grinning
+children stepped in, and, marshalled by Tom, trotted
+across the long room to the alcove where Selina
+and the Mayor stood.</p>
+
+<p>“A River Street delegation,” said Tom, presenting
+them, “come to offer congratulations to the
+chief executive officer of the city.”</p>
+
+<p>Selina shook hands with them. The Mayor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>
+smiled broadly, patted their heads, and the other
+guests, who had been bidden, without an exception
+kindly surveyed the unbidden, yet welcome ones.</p>
+
+<p>The introduction over, Tom examined them from
+head to foot. The little rats were in their Sunday
+clothes. Their heads were sleek and wet from
+recent washing. There was a strong smell of cheap
+soap about them.</p>
+
+<p>“This way, gentlemen and ladies,” he said, and
+he led them back to a sofa near Berty. “Sit down
+there in a row. Here are some foot-stools for you.</p>
+
+<p>“Waiter,” and he hailed a passing black-coated
+man, “bring the best you have to these children,
+and, children, you eat as you never ate before.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty stood silently watching him. “Tom Everest,”
+she remarked, slowly, “I have two words to
+say to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d rather have one,” he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>“Hush,” she said, severely, “and listen. The
+two words are, ‘Thank you.’”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re welcome,” returned Tom, “or, as the
+French say, ‘There is nothing of what&mdash;’ Hello,
+Bonny, what’s the joke?”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny, in a gentlemanly convulsion of laughter,
+was turning his face toward the wall in their direction.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The lad stopped, and while Berty and Tom stood
+silently admiring his almost beautiful face, which
+was just now as rosy as a girl’s, he grew composed.</p>
+
+<p>“I call you to witness, friends,” he said, slightly
+upraising one hand, “that I never in my life before
+have laughed at dear Grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve been cross with her,” said Berty.</p>
+
+<p>“Cross, yes, once or twice, but Grandma isn’t a
+person to laugh at, is she?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, not exactly,” said Berty. “I never saw
+anything funny about Grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, she nearly finished me just now,” said
+Bonny. “I was standing near Selina, when gradually
+there came a break in the hand-shaking. The
+guests’ thoughts began to run luncheon-ward.
+Grandma was close to the bridal pair, and suddenly
+Selina turned and said, impulsively, ‘Mrs. Travers,
+you have had a great deal of experience. I want
+you to give me a motto to start out with on my
+wedding-day. Something that will be valuable to
+me, and will make me think of you whenever I repeat
+it.’ The joke of it was that Grandma didn’t want
+to give her a motto. She didn’t seem to have anything
+handy, but Selina insisted. At last Grandma
+said, in a shot-gun way, ‘Don’t nag!’ then she
+moved off.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Selina stared at the Mayor, and the Mayor
+stared over her shoulder at me. She didn’t see
+anything funny in it. We did. At last she said,
+meekly, ‘Peter, do you think I am inclined to nag?’</p>
+
+<p>“He just rushed out a sentence at her&mdash;‘Upon
+my life I don’t!’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Do you, Bonny?’ she asked, turning suddenly
+round on me.</p>
+
+<p>“‘No, Selina, I don’t,’ I told her, but I couldn’t
+help laughing.</p>
+
+<p>“Jimson grinned from ear to ear, and I started
+off, leaving Selina asking him what he was so
+amused about.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom began to chuckle, but Berty said, “Well&mdash;I
+don’t see anything to laugh at.”</p>
+
+<p>“She doesn’t see anything to laugh at,” repeated
+Bonny, idiotically, then he drew Tom out on the
+lawn where she could hear their bursts of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Presently the Mayor came strolling over to the
+low chair where Berty sat watching her little River
+Street friends.</p>
+
+<p>“Is it all right for me to leave Selina for a few
+minutes?” he asked, in an anxious voice. “I
+can’t ask her, for she is talking to some one. I
+never was married before, and don’t know how to
+act.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes,” said Berty, carelessly. “It’s an exploded
+fancy that a man must always stay close to
+his wife in general society. At home you should
+be tied to your wife’s apron-strings, but in society
+she takes it off.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t wear aprons in your set,” said the
+Mayor, quickly. “I’ve found that out. You leave
+them to the maids.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t like aprons,” said Berty. “If I want
+to protect my dress, I tuck a towel under my belt.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve odd ways, and I feel queer in your set,”
+pursued the Mayor, in a meditative voice. “Maybe
+I’ll get used to you, but I don’t know. Now I used
+to think that the upper crust of this city would be
+mighty formal, but you don’t even say, ‘Yes,
+ma’am,’ and ‘No, ma’am,’ to each other. You’re
+as off-hand as street urchins, and downright saucy
+sometimes I’d say.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’re not as formal as our grandparents were,”
+said Berty, musingly&mdash;“there’s everything in environment.
+We’re nothing but a lot of monkeys,
+anyway&mdash;see those children how nicely they are
+eating. If they were on River Street, they would
+drop those knives and forks, and have those chicken
+bones in their fingers in a jiffy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you ever feel inclined to eat with your fingers?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>
+asked Mr. Jimson, in a low voice, and
+looking fearfully about him.</p>
+
+<p>“Often, and I do,” said Berty, promptly. “Always
+at picnics.”</p>
+
+<p>“My father hated fuss and feathers,” remarked
+Mr. Jimson. “He always went round the house
+with his hat on, and in his shirt-sleeves.”</p>
+
+<p>“The men on River Street do that,” replied Berty.
+“I can see some reason for the shirt-sleeves, but
+not for the hat.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Jimson,” said Walter Everest, suddenly
+coming up to him. “It’s time to go. Selina’s up-stairs
+changing her gown, the two suit-cases are in
+the hall.”</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Everest, with
+their children and their friends, stood on the front
+steps calling parting good wishes after Selina and
+the Mayor.</p>
+
+<p>There were many speculations as to their destination,
+the greater part of the guests imagining
+a far-away trip, as Berty had done.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re all wrong,” observed Tom. “My boat
+is at Mrs. Travers’s wharf for them to go to Cloverdale,
+and it’s cram jam full of flowers with bows
+of white ribbon on each oar.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger Stanisfield burst out laughing. “You’re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>
+sold, Tom, my boy, do you suppose the Mayor
+would trust a joker like you? He has my boat.”</p>
+
+<p>Bonny was in an ecstasy. “Get out, you two
+old fellows,” he exclaimed, slapping his brother-in-law
+on the shoulder. “Mr. Jimson is going to row
+his beloved up the river in my boat.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, he isn’t,” said Walter Everest. “He’s got
+mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe he’s fooled us all,” said Tom, ruefully.
+“Did you have any flowers in your boat,
+Stanisfield?”</p>
+
+<p>“Margaretta put a little bit of rice in,” said
+Roger, “just a handful, where no one would see it
+but themselves.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you trim your boat, Bonny?” asked Roger.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said the boy, “with old shoes. I had
+a dandy pair chained to the seat, so they couldn’t
+be detached, unless Jimson had a hatchet along.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whose boat has he got, for the land’s sake?”
+inquired Walter Everest. “He’s asked us all, and
+we’ve all pledged secrecy and good conduct, and
+we’ve all broken our word and decorated.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s got nobody’s boat, my friends,” said old
+Mr. Everest, who was shaking with silent laughter.
+“Don’t you know Peter Jimson better than to imagine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
+that he would exert himself by rowing up
+the river this warm day?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what are his means of locomotion?”
+asked Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“My one-hoss shay, my son. It was waiting
+round the corner of the road for him.”</p>
+
+<p>“I say,” ejaculated Tom, “let’s make up a party
+to call on them to-morrow. We can take the
+flowers and other trifles.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hurrah,” said Bonny. “I’ll go ask Margaretta
+to get up a lunch.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you go to-morrow, Berty?” asked Tom,
+seeking her out, and speaking in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Where?”</p>
+
+<p>He explained to her.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, if you will tell me why you laughed so
+much at what Grandma said to Selina.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom looked puzzled. “It’s mighty hard to explain,
+for there isn’t anything hidden in it. It just
+sounded kind of apt.”</p>
+
+<p>“You men think women talk too much.”</p>
+
+<p>“Some women,” replied Tom, guardedly.</p>
+
+<p>“You want them to do as the old philosopher
+said, ‘Speak honey and look sunny,’ and, ‘The
+woman that maketh a good pudding in silence is
+better than one that maketh a tart reply.’”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“That’s it exactly,” said Tom, with a beaming
+face. “Now will you go to-morrow?”</p>
+
+<p>“Probably,” said Berty, with an oracular frown.
+“If I am not teased too much.”</p>
+
+<p>“May I come in this evening and see how you
+feel about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“How long do you plan to stay?”</p>
+
+<p>“Five minutes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you may come,” she said, graciously.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.<br />
+<span class="smaller">TO STRIKE OR NOT TO STRIKE</span></h2>
+
+<p>When the picnic party reached Cloverdale the day
+after the wedding, the Jimsons were not there.</p>
+
+<p>Where Mr. Jimson concealed his bride and himself
+during his brief honeymoon no one ever knew,
+for he would not tell, and she could not, being
+bound to secrecy.</p>
+
+<p>No one, that is, no one except Mr. and Mrs.
+Everest, and old Mrs. Jimson. To them Selina and
+the Mayor confided the news that they had been
+in a quiet New Hampshire village, where they could
+enjoy delightful drives among hills resplendent in
+autumn dress, and have no society forced on them
+but that of their hostess&mdash;a farmer’s widow.</p>
+
+<p>As a result of this reposeful life, Mr. Jimson
+came home looking ten years younger, and Roger
+Stanisfield, meeting him in the street, told him so.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve had a quiet time for once in my life,” said
+Mr. Jimson. “I ought to have got married long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
+ago. I have some one to look after me, and me
+only now. How is your wife?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, thank you.”</p>
+
+<p>“And Tom and Berty and Bonny&mdash;gracious! I
+feel as if I had been away a year instead of three
+weeks.”</p>
+
+<p>A shade passed over Roger’s face. “All well
+but Grandma and Berty.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter with Grandma?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I am afraid she is breaking up.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mayor looked serious, then he asked,
+abruptly, “And Berty?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, River Street&mdash;it’s on her brain and conscience,
+and it is wearing her body down.”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s doing what the rest of us ought to do,”
+said Mr. Jimson, shortly, “but, bless me&mdash;you
+can’t make over a city in a day; and we’re no worse
+than others.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose the city council is pretty bad.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jimson shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>“Lots of boodle&mdash;I say, some of those aldermen
+ought to be dumped in the river.”</p>
+
+<p>“You ought to get Berty out of city politics,”
+said Mr. Jimson, energetically. “That is no girl’s
+work.”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s going to get out, Margaretta thinks,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>
+said Roger, turning round and slowly walking down
+the main street of the city beside him. “But we’ve
+got to let her work out the problem for herself.
+You see, she’s no missionary. She is not actuated
+by the passion of a life-work. She has come to
+live in a new neighbourhood, and is mad with the
+people that they don’t try to better themselves, and
+that the city doesn’t enable them to do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“She’ll probably marry Tom Everest, and settle
+down to housekeeping.”</p>
+
+<p>“That will be the upshot of it. I’d be doubtful
+about it, though, if the River Street people had
+given her a hand in her schemes of reform.”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s just an ordinary girl,” said the Mayor,
+briskly. “She’s no angel to let the River Streeters
+walk all over her.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, she’s no angel,” returned Roger, with a
+smile, “but she’s a pretty good sort of a girl.”</p>
+
+<p>“That she is,” replied Mr. Jimson, heartily.
+“Now tell me to a dot just what she has been
+doing since I went away. She seemed all right
+then.”</p>
+
+<p>Roger looked amused, then became grave. “Just
+after you left, she got worked up on the subject
+of child labour. It seems the law is broken here
+in Riverport.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“How does our State law read?” inquired Mr.
+Jimson. “Upon my word, I don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“The statutes of Maine provide that no female
+under eighteen years of age, no male under sixteen,
+and no woman shall be employed in any manufactory
+or mechanical establishment more than ten
+hours each day. We also have a compulsory education
+law which prohibits children under fifteen
+years of either sex working, unless they can produce
+certificates that during the year they have attended
+school during its sessions.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well?” said Mr. Jimson.</p>
+
+<p>“Berty found that some old-clothes man here
+had a night-class of children who came and sewed
+for him, and did not attend school. She burst into
+our house one evening when Margaretta was having
+a party, and before we knew where we were she
+had swept us all down to River Street. It was a
+pitiful enough spectacle. A dozen sleepy youngsters
+sitting on backless benches toiling at shirt-making,
+round a table lighted by candles. If a child nodded,
+the old man tapped her with a long stick. Some
+of us broke up that den, but Berty was furious at
+the attitude of the parents.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll bet they were mad to have their children’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>
+earnings cut off,” observed Mr. Jimson. “Poor
+people are so avaricious.”</p>
+
+<p>“They were, and Berty was in a dancing rage.
+She got up a paper called <cite>The Cry of the Children</cite>.
+You can imagine what her editorials would be.
+Then she had the children of River Street walk in
+a procession through the city. Nobody laughed at
+her, everybody was sympathetic but apathetic. Now
+she is in a smouldering temper. Her paper is discontinued,
+and I don’t know what she is going to
+do.”</p>
+
+<p>“This is mighty interesting,” said Mr. Jimson,
+“but there’s Jones, the lumber merchant from
+Greenport. I’ve got to speak to him&mdash;excuse me,”
+and he crossed the street.</p>
+
+<p>Roger continued on his way to the iron works,
+and two minutes later encountered Berty herself
+coming out of a fancy-work store.</p>
+
+<p>“Good morning,” he said, planting himself directly
+before her.</p>
+
+<p>“Good morning,” she returned, composedly.</p>
+
+<p>“What have you been buying?” he asked, looking
+curiously at the parcel in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Embroidery.”</p>
+
+<p>“For some other person, I suppose.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, for myself.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Why, I never saw you with a needle in your
+hand in my life.”</p>
+
+<p>“You will now,” she said, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>“How’s the park getting on, Berty?”</p>
+
+<p>“Famously; we have electric lights, and the
+children can stay till all hours.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is your helper satisfactory?”</p>
+
+<p>“She is magnificent&mdash;a host in herself. She
+can shake a bad boy on one side of the park, and
+slap another at the other side, at the same time.
+I think I’ll resign my curatorship in favour of her.
+She only gets half my pay now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why resign, Berty?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I may have other things to do,” she said,
+evasively.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re going to get married.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not that I know of,” she said, calmly.</p>
+
+<p>“Good-bye,” replied Roger; “come oftener to
+see us, and be sure to bring your embroidery.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty gazed after him with a peculiar smile, as
+he swung quickly away, then she made her way
+to River Street.</p>
+
+<p>At one of the many corners where lanes led down
+to wharves, a group of men stood talking with
+their hands in their pockets.</p>
+
+<p>Berty stopped abruptly. Through the women in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
+the street she knew what the chief topic of conversation
+among the wharf labourers just now happened
+to be.</p>
+
+<p>“Are you talking of your projected strike?” she
+asked, shortly.</p>
+
+<p>Not one of them spoke, but she knew by their
+assenting looks that they were.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a lovely time for a strike,” she said, dryly;
+“winter just coming on, and your wives and children
+needing extra supplies.”</p>
+
+<p>The men surveyed her indulgently. Not one of
+them would discuss their proposed course of action
+with her, but not one resented her knowledge of
+it, or interference with them.</p>
+
+<p>“You men don’t suffer,” she said, and as she
+spoke she pulled up the collar of her jacket, and
+took a few steps down the lane to avoid the chilly
+wind. “See, here you stand without overcoats,
+and some of you with nothing but woollen shirts
+on. It’s the women and children that feel the cold.”</p>
+
+<p>One of the men thoughtfully turned a piece of
+tobacco in his mouth, and said, “That’s true.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you strike for, anyway?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>One of the stevedores who trundled the drums of
+codfish along the wharves for West Indian shipment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
+said, amiably, “A strike is usually for higher
+wages and shorter hours, miss.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I have no patience with you,” exclaimed
+Berty, bursting into sudden wrath. “You are so
+unreasonable. You bear all things, suffer like martyrs,
+then all at once you flare up and do some
+idiotic thing that turns the sympathy of the public
+against you. Now in this case, you ought to have
+the public with you. I know your wages are small,
+your hours too long, but you are not taking the
+right way to improve your condition. Because the
+Greenport wharf labourers have struck, you think
+you must do the same. A strike among you will
+mean lawlessness and violence, and you strikers
+will blink at this same lawlessness and violence because
+you say it is in a good cause. Then we, the
+long-suffering public, hate you for your illegality.
+There’s the strong arm of the law held equally
+over employers and employed. Why don’t you appeal
+to that? If you are right, that arm will strike
+your oppressors. You can keep in the background.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s a machine back of that arm,” said a
+red-haired man, gloomily, “and, anyway, there ain’t
+a law standing to cover our case.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then make one,” said Berty, irritably. “You
+men all have votes, haven’t you?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes, miss,” said a man in a blue shirt, “all
+except this lad. He’s just out from Ireland. He’s
+only been ashore two weeks.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the way to settle things,” said Berty,
+warmly. “I’ve found out that votes are the only
+things that make anybody afraid of you&mdash;you all
+know how I came to this street. I found living
+conditions unbearable. In my feeble way I have
+tried to rectify them. Nobody cares anything for
+me. The only good I have accomplished is to get
+a park for the children.”</p>
+
+<p>“And that was a great thing,” said the man in
+the blue shirt, “and I guess we all think of it when
+we look at you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I just wanted common necessities,” said Berty,
+eloquently, “air, light, water, and space&mdash;wanted
+them for myself and my neighbours on the street.
+I have badgered the city council till I have got
+to be a joke and a reproach. Nobody cares anything
+about you down here, because you haven’t
+any influence. I’ve found out that if I could say
+to the city council, ‘Gentlemen, I have five hundred
+votes to control,’ they would listen to me fast
+enough.”</p>
+
+<p>The men smiled, and one said, kindly, “I’m sure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>
+miss, you’d get our votes in a bunch, if we could
+give them.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want them,” said Berty, quickly. “It
+isn’t a woman’s business to go into reforming city
+politics. It’s the men’s place. You men fight for
+your homes if a foreign enemy menaces us. Why
+don’t you organize, and fight against the city council?
+Drive it out, and put in a good one. Those
+few men aren’t there to make the laws. They are
+to administer them. You are the people. Make
+what laws you please. If they are not workable,
+make new ones. I’m disgusted with those aldermen.
+The very idea of their arrogating to themselves
+so much authority. You would think they
+were emperors.”</p>
+
+<p>The men smiled again. From him in the blue
+shirt came the emphatic remark, “We couldn’t turn
+out the present lot, miss. They’re too strong for
+us.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you could,” replied Berty, impatiently.
+“I’ve been going over our voting-list, and I find
+that the city of Riverport consists of ‘poor people,’
+as we call them, to the extent of two-thirds of the
+population. You poor men have the votes. Now
+don’t tell me you can’t get what you want.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“But there’s party politics, miss,” suggested a
+quiet man in the background.</p>
+
+<p>“Shame on you, Malone,” and Berty pointed a
+finger at him, “shame on you, to put party politics
+before family politics. Vote for the man who will
+do the best for your wife and children. If you
+haven’t got such a man, organize and put one in.
+Let him give you equal privileges with the rich&mdash;or,
+rather, not equal privileges&mdash;I am no socialist.
+I believe that some men have more brains than
+others, and are entitled by virtue of their brains
+to more enjoyments and more power, but I mean
+that the city owes to every citizen, however poor,
+a comfortable house and a decently kept street.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s sound, miss,” said Malone, slipping still
+further forward, “but we’d never get it from the
+city.”</p>
+
+<p>“Put in some of your number as aldermen. Why
+shouldn’t you in democratic America, when even
+in conservative England there can exist a city council
+made up of men who work by the day&mdash;masons,
+painters, bricklayers, and so on. Do that, and you
+will have a chance to carry out all sorts of municipal
+reforms. I think it is disgraceful that this ward
+is represented by that oiled and perfumed old gentleman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>
+Demarley, who never comes to this street
+unless he wants a vote.”</p>
+
+<p>Malone stared intently at Berty, while a man beside
+him murmured something about the board of
+aldermen having promised certain reforms.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t speak to me of reforms from those men
+that we have now,” returned Berty, with flashing
+eyes. “When I came to River Street, I used to
+blame the policemen that they didn’t enforce the
+law. Now I see that each policeman is a chained
+dog for some alderman. He can only go the length
+of his chain. A strapping great creature in uniform
+comes along to your house, Mr. Malone, and says,
+in a lordly way, ‘Mrs. Malone, you are obstructing
+the sidewalk with those boxes; you must remove
+them.’</p>
+
+<p>“‘And you are obstructing my peace of mind,’
+she says, ‘with that old drug-store over there open
+all hours, and with our young lads slipping in and
+out the back door, when they ought to be in bed.
+Haven’t you eyes or a nose for anything but boxes?’</p>
+
+<p>“And the policeman says, meekly, ‘I see nothing,
+I hear nothing; there must be something wrong
+with your own eyes and hearing, Mrs. Malone. It’s
+getting old you are.’ Then he moves on to look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
+for more boxes and small boys. That’s the length
+of his chain.”</p>
+
+<p>They were silent, and Berty, with increasing heat
+and irritation, went on. “This city is entirely corrupt.
+I say it again and again, and you know it
+better than I do&mdash;but I am going to stop talking
+about it. I had a lovely scheme for setting up a
+shop to sell pure milk to try to keep the breath
+of life in your babies a little longer, and I was going
+to get out plans for model dwellings, but I am going
+to stop short right here, and mind my own business.”</p>
+
+<p>The men stood looking sheepishly at her, and at
+themselves, and, while they stood, Tom Everest, in a
+short walking-coat, and with his hat on the back of
+his head, came hurrying down the street.</p>
+
+<p>He put his hat on straight when he saw Berty, and
+stopped to glance at her. He had got into the way
+of dodging down to River Street if he had any
+business that brought him in the neighbourhood, or
+if he could spare an hour from his office.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.<br />
+<span class="smaller">DISCOURAGED</span></h2>
+
+<p>When Berty’s eyes rested on Tom, he came forward
+hat in hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Is there anything I can do for you?” he inquired,
+calmly, but with inward anxiety as he
+noticed her flushed face.</p>
+
+<p>“No, thank you,” she said, wearily, “I was just
+talking to some of my friends here.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom nodded to the men in a civil manner, then
+said, “Are you going home?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, presently,” she returned. “I will just
+finish what I was saying. I was telling these men,
+Mr. Everest, that when I came to River Street, and
+saw how many things needed to be done in order
+to make the place comfortable, my brain was on
+fire. I wished to do everything to enable my neighbours
+to have decent homes and a pure atmosphere
+in which to bring up their children. But now I
+have got discouraged with them. They don’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>
+second me. All the rich people say that poor people
+are shiftless and ungrateful, and I am beginning
+to think they are right. Here are these men standing
+before us. They are just as sensible as you
+are, or as any man in the city, but again and again
+they will vote for aldermen who care no more for
+their interests than they do for the interests of the
+sparrows flying about the city. They can pick up
+a living the best way they can. The city council
+has not one bit of care of its children, except the
+rich ones, and I say to these men here that there
+is no use for me or anybody to try to help them.
+They have got to help themselves.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom looked concerned, but made no endeavour to
+reply, and Berty went on:</p>
+
+<p>“It is all very fine to talk of helping the poor,
+and uplifting the poor. It just makes them more
+pauper-like for you to settle down among them, and
+bear all the burden of lifting them up. They have
+got to help you, and because they won’t help me,
+I am going to leave River Street just as soon as I
+get money enough. I’m disgusted with these
+people.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom, to Berty’s surprise, gave no expression of
+relief&mdash;and yet how many times he had begged
+her to turn her back on this neighbourhood.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The wharf-men sank into a state of greater sheepishness
+than before. One of them, who carried a
+whip under his arm, shifted it, and, reaching forward,
+pushed Malone with it.</p>
+
+<p>Other of the men were nudging him, and at last
+he remarked, regretfully, “I’m sorry to hear you
+say that you want to quit the street, miss. I hope
+you’ll change your mind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, now, do you think it is a nice thing for
+me to be constantly running about interviewing
+aldermen who hate the sight of me, on the subject
+of the rights of great strong men like you and these
+others? Come, now, is it work for a girl?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, no, miss, it isn’t,” said Malone, uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>“Then why don’t you do it yourselves? The
+ideal thing is to trust people, to believe that your
+neighbour loves you as well as he does himself,
+but he doesn’t. He pretends he does, but you’ve
+got to watch him to make a pretence a reality. For
+the good of your alderman neighbour make him
+love you. You don’t want plush sofas and lace
+window curtains. Bah, I’m getting so I don’t care
+a fig for the ‘rags’ of life&mdash;but you want well-made
+furniture, and a clean pane of glass to look
+out at God’s sky.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s so,” muttered Malone.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Then for goodness’ sake get to work. Municipal
+reform can start right here on River Street as well
+as on Grand Avenue. I have all sorts of lovely
+papers telling just how model municipal government
+should be, and is conducted. It’s a living,
+acting plan in several cities, but I sha’n’t tell any of
+you one thing about it, unless you come and ask
+me. I’m tired of cramming information down your
+throats. Go on and strike, and do anything foolish
+you can. Let your wives freeze, and your poor
+children cry for food this winter. In the spring
+there will be a fine lot of funerals.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I say, Berty,” remarked Tom, in an undertone.</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes were full of tears, but she went plunging
+on. “And I’ll tell you one thing that may be published
+to the city any day. I was not told not to
+tell it. Mr. Jimson wrote me a letter while he was
+away, and I think he is going to resign the mayoralty.
+He won’t tell why, of course, but I know it
+is because the city council is so corrupt. Now if you
+men had stood by him, and put in a decent set of
+councillors, he might have stayed in. I haven’t said
+a word of this before, because I felt so badly about
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>The men scarcely heard her last sentences. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>
+“River Streeters,” as they were called, took to a
+man an extraordinary interest in civic affairs, and
+they fell to discussing this bit of news among themselves.</p>
+
+<p>“Come home, Berty,” said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I will,” she said, meekly. “I’ve said all
+I want to. Just steady me over that crossing. I’ve
+got dust in my eyes.”</p>
+
+<p>Poor Berty&mdash;she was crying, and good, honest
+Tom choked back a sudden sympathetic lump in
+his throat.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t worry, little girl,” he said, huskily.
+“You’ve done a lot of good already, and we’re
+all proud of you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have done nothing,” said Berty, passionately,
+“nothing but get the park for the children. I just
+love the children on this street. I want their fathers
+to do something for them. It’s awful, Tom, to
+bring up boys and girls in such an atmosphere.
+What will their parents say when they stand before
+the judgment seat&mdash;I can’t stand it, Tom&mdash;the
+lost souls of the little ones just haunt me.”</p>
+
+<p>“There, there,” murmured Tom, consolingly,
+“we’re most home. Try to think of something else,
+Berty&mdash;you’ll live to do lots of work for the children
+yet.”</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.<br />
+<span class="smaller">GRANDMA’S REQUEST</span></h2>
+
+<p>For three weeks the weather had been chilly and
+disagreeable. “The winter will set in early,” the
+oldest inhabitants were prophesying, when suddenly
+the full glory of the Indian summer burst upon
+the city.</p>
+
+<p>Berty was delighted. “Dear Grandma will get
+better now,” she kept saying, hopefully. “This is
+what she wants&mdash;just a little warm sunshine before
+the winter comes.”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma’s health had for some time been a cause
+of anxiety to her many friends. All through the
+autumn she had been ailing, and strangely quiet,
+even for her. And she had complained of feeling
+cold, a thing she had never done before in her life.
+Nothing seemed to warm her, not even the blazing
+fires that Berty kept in some of the many open fireplaces
+with which the old house was well supplied.</p>
+
+<p>To-day there was a change. When the warm,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
+lovely sunshine came streaming into her room,
+Grandma had got out of bed. She had come down-stairs,
+and, very quietly, but with a gentle smile
+that sent Berty into an ecstasy of delight, she had
+visited every room in the house.</p>
+
+<p>The guinea-pigs and pigeons in the wood-shed,
+the two women working in the kitchen, had been
+made glad by a call from her, and now she was
+resting on a sofa in the parlour.</p>
+
+<p>“I feel twenty years younger to see you going
+about!” exclaimed Berty, delightedly, as she tucked
+a blanket round her.</p>
+
+<p>“Twenty years!” murmured Grandma.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course that’s exaggeration,” explained Berty,
+apologetically. “I know that you know I’m not
+twenty yet. I just wanted you to understand how
+glad I feel.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go out on the veranda,” said Grandma, “and
+breathe the fresh air. You have been in the house
+too much with me lately.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty’s upper lip was covered with a dew of
+perspiration. She was hot all the time, partly from
+excitement and anxiety about Grandma, and partly
+from her incessant activity in waiting on her in
+the heated atmosphere of the house.</p>
+
+<p>Berty reluctantly made her way to the veranda,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
+where she promptly dislodged from a rocking-chair
+the mongrel pup, who, after long hesitation, had
+finally chosen to take up his abode with her.</p>
+
+<p>The pup, however, crawled up beside her after
+she sat down, and she gently swayed to and fro in
+the rocking-chair, absently stroking his head and
+gazing out at the stripped grain-fields across the
+river.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+<div class="verse">“The ripened sheaves are garnered in,</div>
+<div class="verse">Garnered in, garnered in,”</div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p class="noindent">she was singing softly to herself, when some one
+remarked in an undertone, “Well, how goes it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” she said, looking up, “it is you, is it, the
+omnipresent Tom?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I just slipped up for a minute to see how
+Grandma is. Won’t this sunshine set her up?”</p>
+
+<p>“You saw her as you came through the room?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but she was asleep, so I did not speak.
+How is she?”</p>
+
+<p>“Better, much better, and I am so glad.”</p>
+
+<p>“So am I,” responded Tom, heartily; “it makes
+us all feel bad to have her ill, but, I say, Berty,
+you must not take it so to heart. You’re looking
+thin.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t help worrying about Grandma, Tom.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long since you’ve been out?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Two weeks.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s too long for one of your active disposition
+to stay in the house. Come, take your dog
+and walk back to town with me. See, he is all ready
+to come.”</p>
+
+<p>Mugwump, indeed, was fawning round Tom in
+a servile manner.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s liked me ever since he had a taste of my
+coat,” observed the young man.</p>
+
+<p>“If you won’t take a walk with me, let me row
+you over to Bobbetty’s Island this afternoon,” pursued
+Tom.</p>
+
+<p>Berty shook her head, but said, eagerly, “Do tell
+me how Mafferty is getting on.”</p>
+
+<p>“Finely&mdash;he says that’s a first-class shanty we
+put up for him&mdash;the stove is a beauty, and, Berty,
+another consignment of cats has arrived.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Tom, what are they like?”</p>
+
+<p>The young man launched into a description of
+the new arrivals. “There are four white kittens&mdash;one
+pair yellow eyes, three pairs blue, for which
+you should charge twenty dollars to intending purchasers;
+three black Persian kings, worth thirty
+dollars, and a few assorted kittens from five dollars
+up.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty listened in rapt attention. When he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>
+finished, she said, “You’ve been tremendously good
+about my tramp, Tom.”</p>
+
+<p>“I like partnerships,” he said, modestly; “in fact,
+I&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“That reminds me,” interrupted Berty, unceremoniously;
+“has he had another letter from his
+wife?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, she is coming in ten days.”</p>
+
+<p>The girl clasped her dog so energetically round
+the neck that he squealed in protest. “Isn’t it just
+lovely, that we have been able to do something for
+that man? Oh, do you suppose he will be happy
+there with his wife and the cats?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, certainly not,” said Tom, coolly. “He’s
+going to have his bursts, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what are we to do?” asked Berty, sorrowfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Forgive him, and row him back to the island,”
+said Tom, hopefully. “It’s as much our business
+to look after him as anybody’s.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty turned in her chair, and stared at him long
+and intently. “Tom Everest, you are changing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pray Heaven, I am,” he said earnestly, and
+something in the bright, steady gaze bent on her
+made her eyes fill with tears.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“I have learned a lot from you,” he continued, in
+a low voice. “When I heard you talking to those
+men the other day, it stirred my heart. It seemed
+pitiful Berty, that a girl like you, who might think
+only of amusing herself, should be so touched by
+her neighbours’ woes that she should give up her
+own peace of mind in order to try to help them.
+Then I heard that though you could not move the
+men, the women of the street were much put
+out at the thought of your leaving, and so exasperated
+with the men, that they told them they had
+got to do something to help their families. I said
+to myself, ‘I’ve only been giving Berty a half assistance
+up to this. She shall have my whole assistance
+now.’”</p>
+
+<p>Berty’s face was glowing. “Tom,” she said,
+gently, “if we live, we shall see great reforms on
+River Street.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope so,” he replied, heartily.</p>
+
+<p>“We shall see,” and she upraised one slim brown
+hand, “perhaps, oh, perhaps and possibly, but still,
+I trust, truly, we shall see this our city one of the best
+governed in America.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I hope so,” returned Tom, with a kind of
+groan.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t doubt it,” continued the girl. “Who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>
+lives will see. I tell you, Tom, the women are desperate.
+The River Street houses are growing older
+and older. What woman can endure seeing her
+children die, and know that they are poisoned out
+of existence? I tell you, Tom, the men have got
+to do something or emigrate.”</p>
+
+<p>“They’ll not emigrate,” said Tom, shortly, “and
+upon my word,” and he looked round about him,
+“I don’t know but what I’d be willing to live on
+River Street myself, to help reform it.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty was silent for a long time, then she said,
+in a low voice, “You will not regret that speech,
+Tom Everest.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right, little girl,” he replied, cheerfully, and
+jumping up from his low seat. “Now I must get
+back to work. Come, Mugwump, I guess your
+missis will let you have a walk, even if she won’t
+go herself.”</p>
+
+<p>The lawless dog, without glancing at Berty for
+permission, bounded to his side and licked his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>“You haven’t very good manners, dog,” said
+Tom, lightly, “but I guess your mistress likes
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I always did like the bad ones best,” said Berty,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>
+wistfully. “It seems as if they had more need of
+friends&mdash;good-bye, Tom.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good-bye, little girl,” he returned, throwing
+her a kiss from the tips of his fingers. “Maybe I’ll
+run up this afternoon.”</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.<br />
+<span class="smaller">DOWN THE RIVER</span></h2>
+
+<p>Tom did not get up in the afternoon. However,
+he came in the evening, and the next morning, and
+the next.</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta and Roger, Bonny, Selina, and Mr.
+Jimson also came. Grandma was decidedly better,
+and in their joy they came even oftener than they
+had in their sorrow at her illness.</p>
+
+<p>Berty could hardly contain herself for very lightness
+and extravagance of spirit. It had seemed to
+her that she could not endure the mere thought of
+a further and long-continued illness on the part of
+her beloved grandmother. To think of that other
+contingency&mdash;her possible death&mdash;sent her into
+fits of shuddering and despondency in which it
+seemed as if she, too, would die if her grandmother
+did.</p>
+
+<p>Now all was changed. Day by day the exquisite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>
+sunshine continued, the air was balmy, there was
+a yellow haze about the sun. It seemed to Berty
+that she was living in an enchanted world. Grandma
+was going about the house with a firm step&mdash;a
+bright eye. She had gone over all her trunks and
+closets. She had sorted letters, tidied her boxes
+of clothes, and arranged all her belongings with a
+neatness and expedition that seemed to betoken the
+energy of returned youthfulness.</p>
+
+<p>She was also knitting again. Nothing had pleased
+Berty as much as this. Tears of delight fell on
+the silk stocking as she handed it to Grandma the
+first time she asked her for it.</p>
+
+<p>“Dear Grandma,” said Berty, on this afternoon,
+abruptly dropping on a foot-stool beside her, and
+putting her head on her knee, “dear Grandma.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Travers, still steadily knitting, glanced at
+her as if to say, “Why this sudden access of affection?”</p>
+
+<p>“It doesn’t mean anything in particular,” said
+Berty, pressing still closer, “only that you are so
+dear.”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma smiled, and went on with her work.</p>
+
+<p>“You are just toeing that stocking off,” said
+Berty.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, dear,” replied her grandmother. “This is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>
+the last of the six pairs for Mrs. Darley-James. You
+will remember, Berty, they are all for her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why should I remember?” asked the girl, anxiously.
+“You always remember for yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>“True,” said Mrs. Travers, composedly, and,
+getting up, she went to her writing-desk. Taking
+out a roll of exquisitely made stockings, she wrapped
+them in a piece of paper, and with a firm hand wrote,
+“Mrs. Darley-James, from her old friend, Margaret
+Travers.”</p>
+
+<p>Having directed the parcel, she left her desk and
+went to the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>Berty followed her. Grandma was looking
+strangely up and down the river&mdash;strangely and
+restlessly. At last she said, “It’s a glorious afternoon.
+I should like to go out in a boat.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Grandma,” said Berty, uneasily, “do you
+feel able for it?”</p>
+
+<p>Her grandmother looked at her, and the brightness
+of her face silenced the girl’s scruples.</p>
+
+<p>“I will take you in my boat, dear,” she said,
+gently, “if you wish to go.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should like to have Margaretta come,” said
+Mrs. Travers.</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, we will send for her.”</p>
+
+<p>“And Roger,” said Grandma.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Roger is at an important business meeting this
+afternoon, I happen to know,” said Berty, hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>“He would leave it for me,” said Grandma.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you wish me to ask him?” inquired Berty,
+in some anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Grandma, softly.</p>
+
+<p>Berty got up and was about to leave the veranda,
+when Mrs. Travers went on. “Will you send for
+Bonny, too?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Grandma, don’t you feel well?” asked
+Berty, in increasing anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>“Just at present I do, dear,” and her voice was
+so clear, her manner so calm, that Berty was reassured
+until her next remark.</p>
+
+<p>“Berty, where is Tom this afternoon?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Grandma, he was going to Bangor on business.
+He is just about getting to the station now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Will you send for him, too?”</p>
+
+<p>“Send for him?” faltered Berty. “Oh, Grandma,
+you are ill. You must be ill.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do I look ill?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, no,” said Berty, in despair. “You
+don’t look ill, your face is like an angel’s, but you
+frighten me.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“My child,” said Grandma, “I never felt better
+in my life; but despatch your messengers.”</p>
+
+<p>Berty left the room. She had a strange sensation
+as if walking on air. “Bring your boat, Roger,”
+she wrote, “your family boat. Mine isn’t large
+enough.”</p>
+
+<p>Her messengers were faithful, and in an hour
+Margaretta, Bonny, Roger, and Tom were hastening
+to the house.</p>
+
+<p>Berty met them in the hall. “No, Grandma isn’t
+ill,” she said, with a half-sob. “Don’t stare at
+her, and don’t frighten her. She just took a fancy
+to go out boating, and to have you all with her.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it is so unlike Grandma to interfere or to
+disarrange plans,” murmured Margaretta; “there
+is something wrong.” However, she said nothing
+aloud, and went quietly into the parlour with the
+others and spoke to Grandma, who looked at them
+all with a strange brightness in her eyes, but said
+little.</p>
+
+<p>Tom could not get the fright from his manner.
+Old Mrs. Travers would not interrupt a railway
+journey for a trifle. They might say what they
+liked.</p>
+
+<p>In somewhat breathless and foreboding silence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>
+they got into Roger’s big boat moored at the landing,
+and he and Tom took the oars.</p>
+
+<p>Once out upon the bosom of the calmly flowing
+river, their faces brightened. Sky and water were
+resplendent, and they were softly enveloped in the
+golden haze of approaching sunset.</p>
+
+<p>Here where the river was broadest the shores
+seemed dim in the yellow light. With the dying
+glory of the sun behind them, they went down the
+stream in the direction of Grandma’s pointing hand.</p>
+
+<p>How well she looked, propped up on her cushions
+in the stern. Her eyes were shining with a new
+light, her very skin seemed transparent and luminous.
+Was it possible that, instead of failing and
+entering upon a weary old age, this new-found
+energy betokened a renewed lease of life? Their
+faces brightened still further. Tom at last lost the
+fright from his eyes, and Berty’s vanished colour
+began to come fitfully back.</p>
+
+<p>As they sat enfolding her in loving glances,
+Grandma occasionally spoke in low, short sentences,
+mostly relating to the river.</p>
+
+<p>“I was born by it&mdash;it has been a friend to me.
+Children, you will all live by the river.”</p>
+
+<p>Upon arriving opposite Bobbetty’s Island,
+Grandma smiled. Berty’s tramp, Mafferty, in a decent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>
+suit of clothes, stood on a rock, surrounded by a
+number of handsome, dignified cats, who sat or stood
+beside him like so many dogs. As they passed he
+waved them a respectful greeting with one of Tom’s
+discarded hats.</p>
+
+<p>“You will not give him up,” said Grandma to
+Tom. “You will not become discouraged.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will not,” he said, solemnly.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.<br />
+<span class="smaller">LAST WORDS</span></h2>
+
+<p>“The sun has gone down,” said Margaretta, suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>It had indeed. The huge golden ball had just
+dropped behind the hills on the western side of the
+river.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma half-raised herself on her cushions, a
+restrained eagerness took possession of her, as if
+she were disappointed that she had not obtained
+one more glimpse of the king of day, then she sank
+back and smiled into the unwavering eyes of her
+youngest granddaughter. The eyes of the others
+might occasionally wander. Berty’s gaze had not
+left her face since they came upon the river.</p>
+
+<p>“You wished to see the sun again,” said Berty.
+“I should have warned you that it was about to
+disappear.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wished to say good-bye to it,” said Grandma,
+“a last good-bye.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“To say good-bye,” repeated Berty, in a stunned
+voice, “a last good-bye,” and with a heart-broken
+gesture she put her hand to her head, as if wondering
+if she had heard aright.</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta was trembling. Since the withdrawal
+of the sun, the yellow, lovely glow had faded. There
+was a gray shadow on everything, even on their
+own bright faces&mdash;on all except Grandma’s. That
+radiance about her was not a reflection of any light
+in this world; it was unearthly; and she fearfully
+touched Roger with a finger.</p>
+
+<p>She knew now why they had been brought out
+upon the river, and, endeavouring once, twice, and
+finally a third time, she managed to utter, in a quivering
+voice, “Grandma, shall we take you home?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Margaretta,” replied Grandma, clearly, and
+she pointed down the river. “Take me toward the
+sea. I shall soon be sent for.”</p>
+
+<p>They all understood her now. Their scarcely
+suppressed forebodings rushed back and enveloped
+them in a dark, unhappy cloud.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma was repeating in a low voice, “Thy
+sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon
+withdraw itself, for the Lord shall be thine everlasting
+light, and the days of thy mourning shall
+be ended.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Margaretta, leaning over, drew a flask from
+Roger’s pocket. Then, slipping past the motionless
+Berty, she knelt before her grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>“Dearest, I brought a stimulant with me. Will
+you have some?”</p>
+
+<p>“But I have no need of it,” said Grandma, opening
+wide her strangely beautiful eyes.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to Margaretta that she could not endure
+their bliss, their radiance. She turned her head
+quietly away, and, with a rain of tears falling down
+her face, sat looking out over the river.</p>
+
+<p>Presently controlling herself, she again turned to
+her grandmother. Perhaps there was something she
+could do for her. Her hands might be cold. They
+were, and Margaretta, taking them in her own,
+chafed them gently.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma smiled quietly. “Always thoughtful&mdash;my
+dear, you will be a mother to Bonny.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will,” said the weeping girl.</p>
+
+<p>“Do not be unhappy,” said Grandma, pleadingly.
+“I am so happy to go. My earthly house is in
+order. I long for my heavenly one.”</p>
+
+<p>“But&mdash;but, Grandma, you have been happy with
+us,” stammered Margaretta.</p>
+
+<p>“Happy, so happy&mdash;always remember that.
+My only trouble a separated family. One half in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>
+heaven, the other on earth. One day to be reunited.
+You will cherish each other after I am gone&mdash;you
+precious ones on earth&mdash;Roger?”</p>
+
+<p>The young man nodded, and bent his head low
+over the oars.</p>
+
+<p>“And Tom,” said Grandma, with exquisite
+sweetness, “my third grandson, you will take care
+of Berty?” Tom tried to speak, failed, tried again,
+but Grandma knew the significance of his hoarse,
+inarticulate murmur. Then he averted his gaze
+from the heart-breaking sight of Berty at her grandmother’s
+feet. The despairing girl had clasped them
+to her breast. Grandma was more to her than any
+of them. How could he comfort her for such a
+loss?</p>
+
+<p>“Come, come,” said Grandma, cheerily, “our
+parting is but for a little. See, my child, my spirit
+is growing brighter and brighter. It has outgrown
+this poor old worn-out body. Berty, lift your head,
+and look your grandmother once more in the eyes.”</p>
+
+<p>After some delay, Berty, in mute, anguished
+silence did as she was bid.</p>
+
+<p>“Some day,” said Grandma, firmly, “your own
+sturdy limbs will fail you. You will fly from them
+as from a discarded burden, and come to rejoin your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>
+mother and grandmother in the sky. Let me hear
+you speak. Will you be brave?”</p>
+
+<p>Still in dumb, tearless sorrow, the girl shook her
+head.</p>
+
+<p>“Is this the child I have brought up?” asked
+Grandma, with some faintness. “Have I been unsuccessful?
+Where is your strength in the hour of
+trial?”</p>
+
+<p>Berty clasped her hands to her side. “Grandma,”
+she said, slowly, and as if each word were wrung
+from her. “I will be brave, I will not forget what
+you have told me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Keep your own family together, and keep the
+welfare of the children of the city next your heart,”
+said Grandma, with new strength, “so you will be
+blessed in your own soul.”</p>
+
+<p>“I promise,” said Berty, with quivering lips.</p>
+
+<p>“Give my love to Selina and her husband,”
+Grandma went on, after a short pause. “They are
+happy together, and they know their duty. They
+have no need of words from me. And now, Bonny,
+my own and last grandchild&mdash;the baby of the
+family.”</p>
+
+<p>The boy stretched out his hands. He was younger
+than the others, and he made no attempt to restrain
+his sobs.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>“Such a dear baby he was,” murmured Grandma,
+patting his downcast head. “Such a lovely, beautiful
+baby.”</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta made an effort to control herself, and
+resolutely wiped away the tears pouring down her
+face. “Grandma,” she uttered, brokenly, “would
+you like us to sing to you?”</p>
+
+<p>Grandma slightly turned her head. She seemed
+to be listening to something beyond them. Then she
+said, slowly, “My dears, I never fancied going out
+of this world to the sound of earthly music. There
+are strange and exquisite harmonies from another
+world floating in my ears. Hark, children&mdash;I hear
+it now plainly. I am nearing the sea.”</p>
+
+<p>“Grandma, darling,” said Margaretta, in distress,
+“we are many miles from the sea.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is the sea,” murmured the dying woman, and
+a triumphant smile broke over her face, “the sea
+of glass near the great white throne&mdash;and there
+is a new sound now. Ah, children!” and, raising
+herself on her cushions, a very flame of unearthly
+and exquisite anticipation swept over her face, “the
+new sound is from the harps of gold of them that
+stand beside the sea. They have gotten the victory,
+and they sing praises!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>She sank back&mdash;with one joyful exclamation the
+breath left her body.</p>
+
+<p>Who could mourn for a death like that? Who
+would dare to grieve over the little worn-out body?</p>
+
+<p>Margaretta reverently stooped over, kissed the
+face so soon to grow cold, then, lightly draping a
+white wrap about it, she sat down and held out one
+hand to Berty, the other to her brother.</p>
+
+<p>Tom and Roger turned the boat’s head toward the
+city. Their hearts were full of grief, and yet, looking
+at the calm sky, the peaceful river, they knew
+that time would pass, their grief would grow chastened,
+in all probability there stretched before each
+occupant of that boat a useful and happy life.</p>
+
+<p>Grandma had not lived in vain. She had kept
+her family together, and while her children’s children
+lived, and their children, her memory would
+not be suffered to grow cold, neither would her
+good deeds be forgotten.</p>
+
+<p class="titlepage">THE END.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="further-reading">
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_1_p1" id="books_1_p1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE</h2>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Little Colonel Stories.</span> By <span class="smcap">Annie
+Fellows Johnston</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Being three “Little Colonel” stories in the Cosy
+Corner Series, “The Little Colonel,” “Two Little
+Knights of Kentucky,” and “The Giant Scissors,” put
+into a single volume, owing to the popular demand for a
+uniform series of the stories dealing with one of the
+most popular of juvenile heroines.</p>
+
+<p>1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated <span class="price">$1.50</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Little Colonel’s House Party.</span>
+By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated by
+Louis Meynell.</p>
+
+<p>One vol., library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover <span class="price">$1.00</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Little Colonel’s Holidays.</span> By
+<span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated by L. J.
+Bridgman.</p>
+
+<p>One vol., large 12mo, cloth, decorative cover <span class="price">$1.50</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Little Colonel’s Hero.</span> By <span class="smcap">Annie
+Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated by E. B. Barry.</p>
+
+<p>One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, <span class="price">$1.20 <i>net</i> (postage extra)</span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Little Colonel at Boarding School.</span>
+By <span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>. Illustrated
+by E. B. Barry.</p>
+
+<p>1 vol., large 12mo, cloth <span class="price">$1.20 <i>net</i> (postage extra)</span></p>
+
+<p>Since the time of “Little Women,” no juvenile heroine
+has been better beloved of her child readers than Mrs.
+Johnston’s “Little Colonel.” Each succeeding book has
+been more popular than its predecessor, and now thousands
+of little readers wait patiently each year for the
+appearance of “the new Little Colonel Book.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_1_p2" id="books_1_p2">[2]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Beautiful Joe’s Paradise;</span> or, <span class="smcap">The Island
+of Brotherly Love</span>. A sequel to “Beautiful Joe.”
+By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>, author of “Beautiful Joe,”
+“For His Country,” etc. With fifteen full-page plates
+and many decorations from drawings by Charles Livingston
+Bull.</p>
+
+<p>One vol., library 12mo, cloth decorative, <span class="price">$1.20 <i>net</i>, postpaid, $1.32</span></p>
+
+<p>“Will be immensely enjoyed by the boys and girls who
+read it.”&mdash;<cite>Pittsburg Gazette.</cite></p>
+
+<p>“Miss Saunders has put life, humor, action, and tenderness
+into her story. The book deserves to be a favorite.”&mdash;<cite>Chicago
+Record-Herald.</cite></p>
+
+<p>“This book revives the spirit of ‘Beautiful Joe’ capitally.
+It is fairly riotous with fun, and as a whole is about as unusual
+as anything in the animal book line that has seen the
+light. It is a book for juveniles&mdash;old and young.”&mdash;<cite>Philadelphia
+Item.</cite></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">’Tilda Jane.</span> By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>, author
+of “Beautiful Joe,” etc.</p>
+
+<p>One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth, decorative cover <span class="price">$1.50</span></p>
+
+<p>“No more amusing and attractive child’s story has appeared
+for a long time than this quaint and curious recital of
+the adventures of that pitiful and charming little runaway.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books
+that win and charm the reader, and I did not put it down
+until I had finished it&mdash;honest! And I am sure that every
+one, young or old, who reads will be proud and happy to
+make the acquaintance of the delicious waif.</p>
+
+<p>“I cannot think of any better book for children than this.
+I commend it unreservedly.”&mdash;<cite>Cyrus Townsend Brady.</cite></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Story of the Graveleys.</span> By <span class="smcap">Marshall
+Saunders</span>, author of “Beautiful Joe’s Paradise,”
+“’Tilda Jane,” etc.</p>
+
+<p>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by E. B.
+Barry <span class="price">$1.20 <i>net</i> (postage extra)</span></p>
+
+<p>Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and
+triumphs, of a delightful New England family, of whose
+devotion and sturdiness it will do the reader good to
+hear. From the kindly, serene-souled grandmother to
+the buoyant madcap, Berty, these Graveleys are folk of
+fibre and blood&mdash;genuine human beings.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_1_p3" id="books_1_p3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Little Lady Marjorie.</span> By <span class="smcap">Frances Margaret
+Fox</span>, author of “Farmer Brown and the
+Birds,” etc.</p>
+
+<p>12mo, cloth, illustrated <span class="price">$1.20 <i>net</i> (postage extra)</span></p>
+
+<p>A charming story for children between the ages of
+ten and fifteen years, with both heart and nature interest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Sandman:</span> <span class="smcap">His Farm Stories</span>. By
+<span class="smcap">William J. Hopkins</span>. With fifty illustrations by
+Ada Clendenin Williamson.</p>
+
+<p>One vol., large 12mo, decorative cover, <span class="price">$1.20 <i>net</i>, postpaid, $1.38</span></p>
+
+<p>“An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of
+children not more than six years old, is ‘The Sandman: His
+Farm Stories.’ It should be one of the most popular of the
+year’s books for reading to small children.”&mdash;<cite>Buffalo Express.</cite></p>
+
+<p>“Mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who take the
+little ones to bed and rack their brains for stories will find this
+book a treasure.”&mdash;<cite>Cleveland Leader.</cite></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Sandman:</span> <span class="smcap">More Farm Stories</span>. By
+<span class="smcap">William J. Hopkins</span>, author of “The Sandman:
+His Farm Stories.”</p>
+
+<p>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, fully illustrated, <span class="price">$1.20 <i>net</i> (postage extra)</span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hopkins’s first essay at bedtime stories has met
+with such approval that this second book of “Sandman”
+tales has been issued for scores of eager children. Life
+on the farm, and out-of-doors, will be portrayed in his
+inimitable manner, and many a little one will hail the
+bedtime season as one of delight.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Puritan Knight Errant.</span> By <span class="smcap">Edith
+Robinson</span>, author of “A Little Puritan Pioneer,” “A
+Little Puritan’s First Christmas,” “A Little Puritan
+Rebel,” etc.</p>
+
+<p>Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, <span class="price">$1.20 <i>net</i> (postage extra)</span></p>
+
+<p>The charm of style and historical value of Miss
+Robinson’s previous stories of child life in Puritan days
+have brought them wide popularity. Her latest and
+most important book appeals to a large juvenile public.
+The “knight errant” of this story is a little Don Quixote,
+whose trials and their ultimate outcome will prove
+deeply interesting to their reader.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_1_p4" id="books_1_p4">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Great Scoop.</span> By <span class="smcap">Molly Elliot Seawell</span>,
+author of “Little Jarvis,” “Laurie Vane,” etc.</p>
+
+<p>12mo, cloth, with illustrations <span class="price">$1.00</span></p>
+
+<p>A capital tale of newspaper life in a big city, and of
+a bright, enterprising, likable youngster employed therein.
+Every boy with an ounce of true boyish blood in him
+will have the time of his life in reading how Dick Henshaw
+entered the newspaper business, and how he
+secured “the great scoop.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Flip’s “Islands of Providence.”</span> By
+<span class="smcap">Annie Fellows Johnston</span>, author of “Asa
+Holmes,” “The Little Colonel,” etc.</p>
+
+<p>12mo, cloth, with illustrations <span class="price">$1.00</span></p>
+
+<p>In this book the author of “The Little Colonel” and
+her girl friends and companions shows that she is
+equally at home in telling a tale in which the leading
+character is a boy, and in describing his troubles and
+triumphs in a way that will enhance her reputation as a
+skilled and sympathetic writer of stories for children.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Songs and Rhymes for the Little
+Ones.</span> Compiled by <span class="smcap">Mary Whitney Morrison</span>
+(Jenny Wallis).</p>
+
+<p>New edition, with an introduction by Mrs. A. D. T.
+Whitney and eight illustrations.</p>
+
+<p>One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative <span class="price">$1.00</span></p>
+
+<p>No better description of this admirable book can be
+given than Mrs. Whitney’s happy introduction:</p>
+
+<p>“One might almost as well offer June roses with the
+assurance of their sweetness, as to present this lovely
+little gathering of verse, which announces itself, like
+them, by its deliciousness. Yet, as Mrs. Morrison’s
+charming volume has long been a delight to me, I am
+only too happy to link my name with its new and enriched
+form in this slight way, and simply declare that it
+is to me the most bewitching book of songs for little
+people that I have ever known.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_1_p5" id="books_1_p5">[5]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center larger">PHYLLIS’ FIELD FRIENDS SERIES</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>By LENORE E. MULETS</i></p>
+
+<p>Four vols., cloth decorative, illustrated. Sold separately,
+or as a set.</p>
+
+<p>Per volume <span class="price">$0.80 <i>net</i></span></p>
+
+<p>Per set <span class="price">$3.20 <i>net</i></span></p>
+
+<ul>
+<li class="book">1. Insect Stories.</li>
+<li class="book">2. Stories of Little Animals.</li>
+<li class="book">3. Flower Stories.</li>
+<li class="book">4. Bird Stories.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<p>In this series of four little Nature books, it is the
+author’s intention so to present to the child reader the
+facts about each particular flower, insect, bird, or
+animal, in story form, as to make delightful reading of
+the facts of science, which the child is to verify through
+his field lessons and experiences. Classical legends,
+myths, poems and songs are so presented as to correlate
+fully with these lessons, to which the excellent illustrations
+are no little help.</p>
+
+<p class="center larger">THE WOODRANGER TALES</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>By G. WALDO BROWNE</i></p>
+
+<ul>
+<li class="book">The Woodranger.</li>
+<li class="book">The Young Gunbearer.</li>
+<li class="book">The Hero of the Hills.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<p>Each 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, decorative
+cover, illustrated, per volume <span class="price">$1.00</span></p>
+
+<p>Three vols., boxed, per set <span class="price">$3.00</span></p>
+
+<p>“The Woodranger Tales,” like the “Pathfinder
+Tales” of J. Fenimore Cooper, combine historical information
+relating to early pioneer days in America with
+interesting adventures in the backwoods. Although the
+same characters are continued throughout the series,
+each book is complete in itself, and while based strictly
+on historical facts, is an interesting and exciting tale of
+adventure which will delight all boys and be by no means
+unwelcome to their elders.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_1_p6" id="books_1_p6">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Rosamond Tales.</span> By <span class="smcap">Cuyler Reynolds</span>.
+With 30 full-page illustrations from original
+photographs, and with a frontispiece from a drawing
+by Maud Humphreys.</p>
+
+<p>One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative <span class="price">$1.50</span></p>
+
+<p>These are just the bedtime stories that children always
+ask for, but do not always get. Rosamond and Rosalind
+are the hero and heroine of many happy adventures
+in town and on their grandfather’s farm; and the happy
+listeners to their story will unconsciously absorb a vast
+amount of interesting knowledge of birds, animals, and
+flowers. The book will be a boon to tired mothers, and
+a delight to wide-awake children.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Larry Hudson’s Ambition.</span> By <span class="smcap">James
+Otis</span>, author of “Toby Tyler,” etc. Illustrated by
+Eliot Keen.</p>
+
+<p>One vol., library 12mo, cloth, decorative cover, <span class="price">$1.25</span></p>
+
+<p>James Otis, who has delighted the juvenile public
+with so many popular stories, has written the story of
+the rise of the bootblack Larry. Larry is not only
+capable of holding his own and coming out with flying
+colors in the amusing adventures wherein he befriends
+the family of good Deacon Doak; he also has the
+signal ability to know what he wants and to understand
+that hard work is necessary to win.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Black Beauty:</span> <span class="smcap">The Autobiography of a
+Horse</span>. By <span class="smcap">Anna Sewell</span>. <i>New Illustrated
+Edition.</i> With nineteen full-page drawings by Winifred
+Austin.</p>
+
+<p>One vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, gilt top, <span class="price">$1.25</span></p>
+
+<p>There have been many editions of this classic, but we
+confidently offer this one as the most appropriate and
+handsome yet produced. The illustrations are of special
+value and beauty. Miss Austin is a lover of horses, and
+has delighted in tracing with her pen the beauty and
+grace of the noble animal.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_1_p7" id="books_1_p7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Story of Kate.</span> <span class="smcap">A Tale of California
+Life for Girls.</span> By <span class="smcap">Pauline Bradford Mackie</span>.
+Illustrations by L. J. Bridgman.</p>
+
+<p>One vol., library 12mo, cloth, <span class="price">$1.20 <i>net</i>, postpaid, $1.32</span></p>
+
+<p>“One of the most charming books of the season for girls,
+is this, with its lovable characters and entertaining adventures.”&mdash;<cite>Albany
+Times Union.</cite></p>
+
+<p>“Pauline Bradford Mackie’s new story is one of genuine
+delight, and scarcely a better volume could be purchased for
+girls.”&mdash;<cite>Boston Journal.</cite></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Ye Lyttle Salem Maide:</span> <span class="smcap">A Story of
+Witchcraft</span>. By <span class="smcap">Pauline Bradford Mackie</span>.
+<i>New Illustrated Edition.</i></p>
+
+<p>One vol., large 12mo, cloth, gilt top <span class="price">$1.50</span></p>
+
+<p>“The beauty of the story lies in its simplicity and pathos
+mingled with the lighter vein of humor.”&mdash;<cite>Toledo Blade.</cite></p>
+
+<p>“No one can read the story without being profoundly
+stirred.”&mdash;<cite>Baltimore Herald.</cite></p>
+
+<p>“Full of color and fine feeling.”&mdash;<cite>Albany Argus.</cite></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">In Kings’ Houses:</span> <span class="smcap">A Tale of the Days of
+Queen Anne</span>. By <span class="smcap">Julia C. R. Dorr</span>. <i>New Illustrated
+Edition.</i></p>
+
+<p>One vol., large 12mo, cloth, gilt top <span class="price">$1.50</span></p>
+
+<p>“We close the book with a wish that the author may write
+more of the history of England, which she knows so well.”&mdash;<cite>Bookman,
+New York.</cite></p>
+
+<p>“A story with a charm that will hardly be withstood.”&mdash;<cite>Kansas
+City Times.</cite></p>
+
+<p>“A fine, strong story which it is a relief to come upon.
+Related with charming simple art.”&mdash;<cite>Public Ledger, Philadelphia.</cite></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Gulliver’s Bird Book.</span> <span class="smcap">Being the Newly
+Discovered Strange Adventures of Lemuel
+Gulliver, Now for the First Time Described
+and Illustrated.</span> By <span class="smcap">L. J. Bridgman</span>, author of
+“Mother Goose and Her Wild Beast Show,” etc.</p>
+
+<p>With upwards of 100 illustrations in color, large
+quarto, cloth <span class="price">$1.50</span></p>
+
+<p>This is a most amusing and original book, illustrated
+with startlingly odd and clever drawings. “Gulliver’s
+Bird Book” will prove a source of entertainment to
+children of all ages, and should prove one of the leading
+color juveniles of the season.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_1_p8" id="books_1_p8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center larger">THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES</p>
+
+<p>The most delightful and interesting accounts possible
+of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings
+doings, and adventures.</p>
+
+<p>Each 1 vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six
+full-page illustrations in color by L. J. Bridgman.</p>
+
+<p>Price per volume <span class="price">$0.50 <i>net</i>, postpaid $0.56</span></p>
+
+<p>“Juveniles will get a whole world of pleasure and instruction
+out of Mary Hazelton Wade’s Little Cousin Series. …
+Pleasing narratives give pictures of the little folk in the far-away
+lands in their duties and pleasures, showing their odd
+ways of playing, studying, their queer homes, clothes, and
+playthings. … The style of the stories is all that can be
+desired for entertainment, the author describing things in a
+very real and delightful fashion.”&mdash;<cite>Detroit News-Tribune.</cite></p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>By MARY HAZELTON WADE</i></p>
+
+<ul>
+<li>Our Little Swiss Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Norwegian Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Italian Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Siamese Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Cuban Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Hawaiian Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Eskimo Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Philippine Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Porto Rican Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little African Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Japanese Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Brown Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Indian Cousin.</li>
+<li>Our Little Russian Cousin.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<p class="center"><i>By ISAAC HEADLAND TAYLOR</i></p>
+
+<ul>
+<li>Our Little Chinese Cousin.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_2_p1" id="books_2_p1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>COSY CORNER SERIES</h2>
+
+<p>It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall
+contain only the very highest and purest literature,&mdash;stories
+that shall not only appeal to the children themselves,
+but be appreciated by all those who feel with
+them in their joys and sorrows,&mdash;stories that shall be
+most particularly adapted for reading aloud in the
+family circle.</p>
+
+<p>The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known
+artists, and each volume has a separate attractive
+cover design.</p>
+
+<p>Each, 1 vol., 16mo, cloth <span class="price">$0.50</span></p>
+
+<p><i>By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Little Colonel.</span></p>
+
+<p>The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its
+heroine is a small girl, who is known as the Little
+Colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an
+old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and
+old family are famous in the region. This old Colonel
+proves to be the grandfather of the child.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Giant Scissors.</span></p>
+
+<p>This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in
+France,&mdash;the wonderful house with the gate of The
+Giant Scissors, Jules, her little playmate, Sister Denisa,
+the cruel Brossard, and her dear Aunt Kate. Joyce is
+a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes
+shares with her the delightful experiences of the “House
+Party” and the “Holidays.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_2_p2" id="books_2_p2">[2]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Two Little Knights of Kentucky,</span>
+<span class="smcap">Who Were the Little Colonel’s Neighbors</span>.</p>
+
+<p>In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an
+old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is
+not, however, the central figure of the story, that place
+being taken by the “two little knights.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.</span></p>
+
+<p>The readers of Mrs. Johnston’s charming juveniles
+will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for
+young people, written in the author’s sympathetic and
+entertaining manner.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Aunt ’Liza’s Hero and Other Stories.</span></p>
+
+<p>A collection of six bright little stories, which will
+appeal to all boys and most girls.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Big Brother.</span></p>
+
+<p>A story of two boys. The devotion and care of
+Steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the
+theme of the simple tale, the pathos and beauty of which
+has appealed to so many thousands.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Ole Mammy’s Torment.</span></p>
+
+<p>“Ole Mammy’s Torment” has been fitly called “a
+classic of Southern life.” It relates the haps and mishaps
+of a small negro lad, and tells how he was led by
+love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Story of Dago.</span></p>
+
+<p>In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago,
+a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago
+tells his own story, and the account of his haps and mishaps
+is both interesting and amusing.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_2_p3" id="books_2_p3">[3]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>By EDITH ROBINSON</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Little Puritan’s First Christmas.</span></p>
+
+<p>A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how
+Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child
+of the Puritans, aided by her brother Sam.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Little Daughter of Liberty.</span></p>
+
+<p>The author’s motive for this story is well indicated by
+a quotation from her introduction, as follows:</p>
+
+<p>“One ride is memorable in the early history of the
+American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul
+Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another
+ride,&mdash;untold in verse or story, its records preserved
+only in family papers or shadowy legend, the ride of
+Anthony Severn was no less historic in its action or
+memorable in its consequences.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Loyal Little Maid.</span></p>
+
+<p>A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary
+days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler,
+renders important services to George Washington.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Little Puritan Rebel.</span></p>
+
+<p>Like Miss Robinson’s successful story of “A Loyal
+Little Maid,” this is another historical tale of a real girl,
+during the time when the gallant Sir Harry Vane was
+governor of Massachusetts.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Little Puritan Pioneer.</span></p>
+
+<p>The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement
+at Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds
+another to the list of favorites so well known to the
+young people.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Little Puritan Bound Girl.</span></p>
+
+<p>A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great
+interest to youthful readers.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_2_p4" id="books_2_p4">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>By OUIDA (Louise de la Ramée)</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Dog of Flanders:</span> <span class="smcap">A Christmas Story</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Too well and favorably known to require description.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Nürnberg Stove.</span></p>
+
+<p>This beautiful story has never before been published
+at a popular price.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Provence Rose.</span></p>
+
+<p>A story perfect in sweetness and in grace.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Findelkind.</span></p>
+
+<p>A charming story about a little Swiss herdsman.</p>
+
+<p><i>By MISS MULOCK</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Little Lame Prince.</span></p>
+
+<p>A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures
+by means of the magic gifts of his fairy godmother.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Adventures of a Brownie.</span></p>
+
+<p>The story of a household elf who torments the cook
+and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the
+children who love and trust him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">His Little Mother.</span></p>
+
+<p>Miss Mulock’s short stories for children are a constant
+source of delight to them, and “His Little Mother,” in
+this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts
+of youthful readers.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Little Sunshine’s Holiday.</span></p>
+
+<p>An attractive story of a summer outing. “Little Sunshine”
+is another of those beautiful child-characters for
+which Miss Mulock is so justly famous.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_2_p5" id="books_2_p5">[5]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>By JULIANA HORATIA EWING</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Jackanapes.</span></p>
+
+<p>A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite
+and touching story, dear alike to young and old.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Story of a Short Life.</span></p>
+
+<p>This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old.
+It is a part of the world’s literature, and will never die.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Great Emergency.</span></p>
+
+<p>How a family of children prepared for a great emergency,
+and how they acted when the emergency came.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Trinity Flower.</span></p>
+
+<p>In this little volume are collected three of Mrs.
+Ewing’s best short stories for the young people.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Madam Liberality.</span></p>
+
+<p>From her cradle up Madam Liberality found her
+chief delight in giving.</p>
+
+<p><i>By FRANCES MARGARET FOX</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Little Giant’s Neighbours.</span></p>
+
+<p>A charming nature story of a “little giant” whose
+neighbours were the creatures of the field and garden.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Farmer Brown and the Birds.</span></p>
+
+<p>A little story which teaches children that the birds
+are man’s best friends.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Betty of Old Mackinaw.</span></p>
+
+<p>A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to
+the little readers who like stories of “real people.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Mother Nature’s Little Ones.</span></p>
+
+<p>Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or
+“childhood,” of the little creatures out-of-doors.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_2_p6" id="books_2_p6">[6]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow.</span></p>
+
+<p>This story, written by the gifted young Southern
+woman, will appeal to all that is best in the natures of
+the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Fortunes of the Fellow.</span></p>
+
+<p>Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm
+of “The Farrier’s Dog and His Fellow” will welcome
+the further account of the “Adventures of Baydaw and
+the Fellow” at the home of the kindly smith among the
+Green Hills of Tennessee.</p>
+
+<p><i>By FRANCES HODGES WHITE</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Helena’s Wonderworld.</span></p>
+
+<p>A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in
+the mysterious regions beneath the sea.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Aunt Nabby’s Children.</span></p>
+
+<p>This pretty little story, touched with the simple humor
+of country life, tells of two children, who, adopted by
+Aunt Nabby, have also won their way into the affections
+of the village squire.</p>
+
+<p><i>By CHARLES LEE SLEIGHT</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Prince of the Pin Elves.</span></p>
+
+<p>A fascinating story of the underground adventures of
+a sturdy, reliant American boy among the elves and
+gnomes.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Water People.</span></p>
+
+<p>A companion volume and in a way a sequel to “The
+Prince of the Pin Elves,” relating the adventures of
+“Harry” among the “water people.” While it has the
+same characters as the previous book, the story is complete
+in itself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_2_p7" id="books_2_p7">[7]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><i>By OTHER AUTHORS</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Flight of Rosy Dawn.</span> By <span class="smcap">Pauline
+Bradford Mackie</span>.</p>
+
+<p>The Christmas of little Wong Jan, or “Rosy Dawn,”
+a young Celestial of San Francisco, is the theme of this
+pleasant little story.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Susanne.</span> By <span class="smcap">Frances J. Delano</span>.</p>
+
+<p>This little story will recall in sweetness and appealing
+charm the work of Kate Douglas Wiggin and Laura E.
+Richards.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Millicent in Dreamland.</span> By <span class="smcap">Edna S.
+Brainerd</span>.</p>
+
+<p>The quaintness and fantastic character of Millicent’s
+adventures in Dreamland have much of the fascination
+of “Alice in Wonderland,” and all small readers of
+“Alice” will enjoy making Millicent’s acquaintance.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Jerry’s Reward.</span> By <span class="smcap">Evelyn Snead
+Barnett</span>.</p>
+
+<p>This is an interesting and wholesome little story of
+the change that came over the thoughtless imps on Jefferson
+Square when they learned to know the stout-hearted
+Jerry and his faithful Peggy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Bad Penny.</span> By <span class="smcap">John T. Wheelwright</span>.</p>
+
+<p>No boy should omit reading this vivid story of the
+New England of 1812.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Gatty and I.</span> By <span class="smcap">Frances E. Crompton</span>.</p>
+
+<p>The small hero and heroine of this little story are
+twins, “strictly brought up.” It is a sweet and wholesome
+little story.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_2_p8" id="books_2_p8">[8]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Prince Yellowtop.</span> By <span class="smcap">Kate Whiting Patch</span>.</p>
+
+<p>A pretty little fairy tale.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Little Christmas Shoe.</span> By <span class="smcap">Jane P.
+Scott-Woodruff</span>.</p>
+
+<p>A touching story of Yule-tide.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Little Professor.</span> By <span class="smcap">Ida Horton
+Cash</span>.</p>
+
+<p>A quaint tale of a quaint little girl.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Seventh Daughter.</span> By <span class="smcap">Grace Wickham
+Curran</span>.</p>
+
+<p>One of the best stories for little girls that has been
+published for a long time.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Making of Zimri Bunker:</span> <span class="smcap">A Tale
+of Nantucket</span>. By <span class="smcap">W. J. Long</span>, Ph. D.</p>
+
+<p>This is a charming story of Nantucket folk by a
+young clergyman who is already well known through
+his contributions to the <cite>Youth’s Companion</cite>, <cite>St. Nicholas</cite>,
+and other well-known magazines. The story deals
+with a sturdy American fisher lad, during the war of
+1812.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The King of the Golden River:</span> <span class="smcap">A
+Legend of Stiria</span>. By <span class="smcap">John Ruskin</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally
+intended for publication, this little fairy tale soon
+became known and made a place for itself.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Little Peterkin Vandike.</span> By <span class="smcap">Charles
+Stuart Pratt.</span></p>
+
+<p>The author’s dedication furnishes a key to this charming
+story:</p>
+
+<p>“I dedicate this book, made for the amusement (and
+perchance instruction) of the boys who may read it, to
+the memory of one boy, who would have enjoyed as
+much as Peterkin the plays of the Poetry Party, but
+who has now marched out of the ranks of boyhood.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_2_p9" id="books_2_p9">[9]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Rab and His Friends.</span> By Dr. <span class="smcap">John
+Brown</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Brown’s little masterpiece is too well known
+to need description. The dog Rab is loved by all.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Adventures of Beatrice and
+Jessie.</span> By <span class="smcap">Richard Mansfield</span>.</p>
+
+<p>The story of two little girls who were suddenly transplanted
+into the “realms of unreality,” where they met
+with many curious and amusing adventures.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Child’s Garden of Verses.</span> By <span class="smcap">R.
+L. Stevenson</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stevenson’s little volume is too well known to
+need description. It will be heartily welcomed in this
+new and attractive edition.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Little King Davie.</span> By <span class="smcap">Nellie Hellis</span>.</p>
+
+<p>The story of a little crossing-sweeper, that will make
+many boys thankful they are not in the same position.
+Davie’s accident, hospital experiences, conversion, and
+subsequent life, are of thrilling interest.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Sleeping Beauty.</span> <span class="smcap">A Modern Version.</span>
+By <span class="smcap">Martha B. Dunn</span>.</p>
+
+<p>This charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine,
+intellectually “asleep” until she meets the “Fairy
+Prince,” reminds us of “Ouida” at her best.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Young Archer.</span> By <span class="smcap">Charles E. Brimblecom</span>.</p>
+
+<p>A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accompanied
+Columbus on his voyage to the New World.
+His loyalty and services through vicissitudes and dangers
+endeared him to the great discoverer, and the
+account of his exploits will be interesting to all boys.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="books_2_p10" id="books_2_p10">[10]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><span class="book">The Fairy of the Rhône.</span> By <span class="smcap">A. Comyns
+Carr</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Here is a fairy story indeed, one of old-fashioned pure
+delight. It is most gracefully told, and accompanied by
+charming illustrations.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">A Small Small Child.</span> By <span class="smcap">E. Livingston
+Prescott</span>.</p>
+
+<p>“A Small Small Child” is a moving little tale of
+sweet influence, more powerful than threats or punishments,
+upon a rowdy of the barracks.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Peggy’s Trial.</span> By <span class="smcap">Mary Knight Potter</span>.</p>
+
+<p>Peggy is an impulsive little woman of ten, whose
+rebellion from a mistaken notion of loyalty, and her subsequent
+reconciliation to the dreaded “new mother,” are
+most interestingly told.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">For His Country.</span> By <span class="smcap">Marshall Saunders</span>,
+author of “Beautiful Joe,” etc.</p>
+
+<p>A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved
+his country; written with that charm which has endeared
+Miss Saunders to hosts of readers.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">La Belle Nivernaise.</span> <span class="smcap">The Story of an
+Old Boat and Her Crew.</span> By <span class="smcap">Alphonse
+Daudet</span>.</p>
+
+<p>All who have read it will be glad to welcome an old
+favorite, and new readers will be happy to have it
+brought to their friendly attention.</p>
+
+<p><span class="book">Wee Dorothy.</span> By <span class="smcap">Laura Updegraff</span>.</p>
+
+<p>A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion
+of the eldest, a boy, for his sister being its theme and
+setting. With a bit of sadness at the beginning, the
+story is otherwise bright and sunny, and altogether
+wholesome in every way.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 53675-h.htm or 53675-h.zip *******</p>
+<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br />
+<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/3/6/7/53675">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/6/7/53675</a></p>
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author	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-02-06 18:27:51 -0800
committer	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-02-06 18:27:51 -0800
commit	77d188977c48b060ca2dbedb970e8ea2bf82cfed (patch)
tree	a71f79e50499cfac7584bbb7f3585eef54c37128