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+Project Gutenberg's The Awakening of Helena Richie, by Margaret Deland
+#3 in our series by Margaret Deland
+
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+Title: The Awakening of Helena Richie
+
+Author: Margaret Deland
+
+Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6315]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on November 25, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HELENA RICHIE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Beth Constantine, Charles Aldarondo, Juliet Sutherland
+Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: He put his face close to hers, and stared into her
+eyes. _Frontispiece--Awakening of Helena Richie_]
+
+
+
+THE AWAKENING OF HELENA RICHIE
+
+
+
+By MARGARET DELAND
+
+Author of "Dr Lavendar's People," "Old Cheater Tales," etc.
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+LORIN DELAND
+
+MAY 12, 1906
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Dr. Lavendar and Goliath had toiled up the hill to call on old Mr.
+Benjamin Wright; when they jogged back in the late afternoon it was
+with the peculiar complacency which follows the doing of a
+disagreeable duty. Goliath had not liked climbing the hill, for a
+heavy rain in the morning had turned the clay to stiff mud, and Dr.
+Lavendar had not liked calling on Benjamin Wright.
+
+"But, Daniel," said Dr. Lavendar, addressing a small old dog who took
+up a great deal more room on the seat of the buggy than he was
+entitled to, "Daniel, my boy, you don't consult your likings in
+pastoral calls." Then he looked out of the mud-spattered window of the
+buggy, at a house by the roadside--"The Stuffed Animal House," Old
+Chester children called it, because its previous owner had been a
+taxidermist of some little local renown. "That's another visit I ought
+to make," he reflected, "but it can wait until next week. G'long,
+Goliath!"
+
+Goliath went along, and Mrs. Frederick Richie, who lived in the
+Stuffed Animal House, looking listlessly from an upper window, saw the
+hood of the buggy jogging by and smiled suddenly. "Thank Heaven!" she
+said.
+
+Benjamin Wright had not thanked Heaven when Dr. Lavendar drove away.
+He had been as disagreeable as usual to his visitor, but being a very
+lonely old man he enjoyed having a visitor to whom to be disagreeable.
+He lived on his hilltop a mile out of Old Chester, with his "nigger"
+Simmons, his canary-birds, and his temper. More than thirty years
+before he had quarrelled with his only son Samuel, and the two men had
+not spoken to each other since. Old Chester never knew what this
+quarrel had been about; Dr. Lavendar, speculating upon it as he and
+Goliath went squashing through the mud that April afternoon, wondered
+which was to blame. "Pot and kettle, probably," he decided. "Samuel's
+goodness is very irritating sometimes, and Benjamin's badness is--
+well, it's not as distressing as it should be. But what a forlorn old
+critter he is! And this Mrs. Richie is lonely too--a widow, with no
+children, poor woman! I must call next week. Goliath wouldn't like to
+turn round now and climb the hill again. Danny, I fear Goliath is very
+selfish."
+
+Goliath's selfishness carried them home and landed Dr. Lavendar at his
+own fireside, rather tired and full of good intentions in regard to
+calls. He confided these intentions to Dr. William King who looked in
+after supper to inquire about his cold.
+
+"Cold? I haven't any cold! You can't get a job here. Sit down and give
+me some advice. Hand me a match first; this ragamuffin Danny has gone
+to sleep with his head on my foot, and I can't budge."
+
+The doctor produced the match; "I'll advise you not to go out in such
+weather. Promise me you won't go out to-morrow."
+
+"To-morrow? Right after breakfast, sir! To make calls on the people
+I've neglected. Willy, how can I find a home for an orphan child? A
+parson up in the mountains has asked me to see if I can place a little
+seven-year-old boy. The child's sister who took care of him has just
+died. Do you know anybody who might take him?"
+
+"Well," said Willy King, "there's Mrs. Richie."
+
+Dr. Lavendar looked at him over his spectacles. "Mrs. Frederick
+Richie?--though I understand she calls herself Mrs. Helena Richie. I
+don't like a young female to use her own name, William, even if she is
+a widow! Still, she may be a nice woman I suppose. Do you think a
+little boy would have a good home with her?"
+
+"Well," the doctor demurred, "of course, we know very little about
+her. She has only been here six months. But I should think she was
+just the person to take him. She is mighty good-looking, isn't she?"
+
+"Yes," Dr. Lavendar said, "she is. And other things being equal I
+prefer a good-looking woman. But I don't know that her looks are a
+guarantee that she can train up a child in the way he should go. Can't
+you think of anybody else?"
+
+"I don't see why you don't like Mrs. Richie?" "I never said I didn't
+like her," protested Dr. Lavendar; "but she's a widow."
+
+"Unless she murdered the late Richie, that's not against her."
+
+"Widows don't always stay widows, Willy."
+
+"I don't believe she's the marrying kind," William said. "I have a
+sort of feeling that the deceased Richie was not the kind of husband
+who receives the compliment of a successor--"
+
+"Hold on; you're mixing things up! It's the bad husband and the good
+wife that get compliments of that kind."
+
+William laughed as he was expected to, but he stuck to his opinion
+that Mrs. Richie had had enough of husbands. "And anyway, she's
+devoted to her brother--though he doesn't come to see her very
+often."
+
+"There's another point," objected Dr. Lavendar; "what kind of a man is
+this Mr. Pryor? Danny growled at him once, which prejudiced me against
+him."
+
+"I don't take to him much myself," William King confessed; "though I
+must say he seems a decent man enough. He doesn't cultivate
+acquaintances in Old Chester, but that only shows bad taste."
+
+"She says he is not very well," Dr. Lavendar explained; "she says he
+likes to keep quiet when he comes down here."
+
+"I don't see anything wrong with him."
+
+"Hasn't taken any of your pills? Maybe he doesn't believe in doctors.
+I don't myself."
+
+"Thank you," said William King.
+
+"There's too much fuss anyway over our precious carcasses! And you
+fellows encourage it," Dr. Lavendar grumbled. Then he said he wished
+he knew more about Mrs. Richie. "I ask you for information and all you
+say is that she's good-looking, and her brother doesn't take your
+pills."
+
+William laughed.
+
+"She doesn't come to church very regularly, and she never stops
+afterwards to talk," Dr. Lavendar ruminated.
+
+"Well, she lives 'way up there on the hill road--"
+
+"Yes, she does live pretty far out of town," Dr. Lavendar admitted,
+"but that's not a reason for not being neighborly after church."
+
+"She's shy," said William King, "that's all. Shyness isn't anything
+very wrong. And she's mighty pleasant when she does talk to you. I
+tell you Dr. Lavendar, pleasantness goes a good way in this world. I'd
+say it was better than goodness--only they are the same thing."
+
+"No, they're not," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"I grant she doesn't belong to the sewing society," William said
+grinning. "Martha says that some of the ladies say she doesn't show
+proper grief for her husband. She actually smiles sometimes! They say
+that if the Lord were to remove _their_ beloved husbands, they would
+never smile again."
+
+"William," said Dr. Lavendar chuckling, "I begin to like your widow."
+
+"She's not my widow, thank you! But she's a nice woman, and she must
+be pretty lonely up there all by herself."
+
+"Wish I had gone in to see her this afternoon," the old man said
+thoughtfully. "As you say she may be a suitable person to take this
+little boy. I wonder if she's going to stay in Old Chester?"
+
+"Sam Wright says she has spoken to him of buying the house. That looks
+as if she meant to settle down. Did you know that Sam's Sam is casting
+sheep's eyes at her?"
+
+"Why, she's old enough to be his mother!" said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"Oh, no. Sam's Sam is twenty-three, and one of my patients says that
+Mrs. Richie will never see forty-five again. Which leads me to
+conclude that she's about thirty."
+
+"Of course she doesn't encourage him?" Dr. Lavendar said anxiously.
+
+"She lets him come to see her, and she took him out once in that
+wicker-work vehicle she has--looks like a clothes-basket on wheels.
+And she provides the clothes to put into it. I'm told they're
+beautiful; but that no truly pious female would be willing to decorate
+poor flesh and blood with such finery. I'm told--"
+
+"William! Is this the way I've brought you up? To pander to my
+besetting sin? Hold your tongue!" Dr. Lavendar rose chuckling, and
+stood in front of the fireplace, gathering the tails of his flowered
+cashmere dressing-gown under his arms. "But Willy I hope Sam isn't
+really smitten? You never can tell what that boy will do."
+
+"Yes, he's a hair-trigger," the doctor agreed, "a hair-trigger! And
+his father understands him about as well as--as Danny there
+understands Hebrew! I think it's a case of Samuel and his father over
+again. Dr. Lavendar, do you suppose anybody will ever know what those
+two quarrelled about?"
+
+"Probably not."
+
+"I suppose," William King ruminated, "that you'd call Sam a genius?"
+
+"No, I wouldn't; he has no patience. You can't have genius without
+patience. Sam hasn't a particle."
+
+"Well," the doctor explained, "he hasn't the slightest sense of
+responsibility; and I notice that when people have no sense of
+responsibility, you call them either criminals or geniuses."
+
+"I don't," said Dr. Lavendar dryly, "I call 'em poor critters, either
+way. But Willy, about this little boy; the great point is who needs
+him? I expect he'll be here on Saturday."
+
+"What! This week? But you haven't found anybody to take him."
+
+"Oh, he'll stay with me for a while, Mary'll look after him. And I'll
+play marbles with him. Got any white alleys? Gimme six, and I'll give
+you an agate."
+
+"But Dr. Lavendar, that will be a nuisance to you," William King
+protested. "Let me take him. Or, at least--I'll ask Martha; she's
+house-cleaning now, and she says she's very tired; so I'm not sure--"
+William ended weakly.
+
+"No, no; I want him myself," said the old minister.
+
+"Well," Dr. King said with evident relief, "shall I speak to Mrs.
+Richie about him? I'm going up there to-morrow; she's got a sick cook,
+and she asked me to call. What's his name?"
+
+"David Allison. You might sound her William, but don't be definite.
+Don't give her any chance to say yes or no. I want to know her a
+little better before I make up my mind. When the boy comes I'll happen
+along in my buggy with him, and then we'll see. And meantime Willy,
+keep your eye on Sam's Sam. He mustn't get too much interested up
+there. A little falling in love with an older woman doesn't hurt most
+boys; in fact, it's part of their growing up and likely as not it does
+'em good. But Sam's Sam isn't like most boys."
+
+"That's so," said William King, "he may not be a genius and he
+certainly isn't a criminal, but he has about as much stability as a
+sky-rocket."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+"You can't think of anybody who might like to take this little David
+Allison, can you, my dear?" William King asked his wife at breakfast
+the next morning.
+
+"I certainly cannot," Martha said decidedly. "I think it's a very
+dangerous thing to take unknown children into your family. I suppose
+you think I ought to offer to do it? But in the first place, I'm very
+tired, and in the second place, I don't like boys. If it was a girl it
+might be different."
+
+"No doubt we could find a girl," William began, but she interrupted
+him.
+
+"Girls are a great expense. And then, as I said--unknown children!--
+they might turn into anything. They might have evil tendencies; they
+probably have. If the parents die early, it's a sign of weakness of
+some sort. I've no doubt this boy's father drank. I don't want to seem
+unkind, but I must say flatly and frankly that considering how hard it
+is for us to make both ends meet--as you keep up a sort of free
+practice--I don't think it's prudent to suggest any new
+responsibilities and expenses."
+
+"Oh, I wasn't making suggestions," William King said. "I guess we're
+not the people to bring up a child. I'd spoil him, I've no doubt."
+
+"I'm sure you would!" Martha said, greatly relieved. "It would be the
+worst possible thing for him. But Willy, there's that Mrs. Richie?"
+
+"You think his evil tendencies wouldn't hurt her?" the doctor said
+dryly.
+
+"I think she's a rich woman, so why shouldn't she do a thing like
+that? I'll go and see her if you want me to--though she never makes
+you feel welcome; and tell her about the boy?"
+
+"You needn't bother; Dr. Lavendar will see her himself."
+
+"I don't understand that woman," Mrs. King said. "She keeps herself to
+herself too much. It almost looks as if she didn't think we were good
+enough to associate with her!"
+
+William made no reply.
+
+"Willy, does she use perfumery?"
+
+"How in the world should I know!"
+
+"Well, there's a sort of fragrance about her. It isn't like cologne,
+it's like--well, orris-root."
+
+William made no comment.
+
+"It's a kind of sachet, I guess; I'd like to know what it is. Willy,
+Sam Wright's Sam went out walking with her yesterday. I met them on
+the River Road. I believe the boy is in love with her!"
+
+"He's got eyes," William agreed.
+
+"_Tck!_" said Martha, "the idea of calling her good-looking! And
+I don't think it speaks well for a woman of her age--she's forty if
+she's a day--to let a boy trail round after her like that. And to fix
+herself up with sachet-powders and things. And her Sarah told the
+Draytons' Jean that she had her breakfast in bed every morning! I'd
+like to know how my housekeeping would go on if _I_ had breakfast
+in bed, though dear knows I'm very tired and it would be pleasant
+enough. But there's one thing about me: I may not be perfect, but I
+don't do lazy things just because they are pleasant."
+
+The doctor made no defence of Mrs. Richie. Instead he asked for
+another cup of coffee and when told that it would not be good for him,
+got up, then paused patiently, his hand on the door-knob, to hear his
+Martha out.
+
+"William, what do you suppose is the last thing Sam Wright's Sam has
+done?"
+
+The doctor confessed his ignorance.
+
+"Well, his father sent him to Mercer on Monday to buy supplies for the
+bank. He gave him seventy-five dollars. Back comes my young gentleman
+with--what do you suppose? A lot of pictures of actors and actresses!
+And no supplies."
+
+"What! you don't mean he spent the money on the pictures?"
+
+"Every bit of it! His mother came in and told me about it last night.
+She said his father was frantic. She was dreadfully upset herself. As
+for Sam, he kept saying that the 'prints,' as he called them, were
+very valuable. Though I'm sure I can't see why; they were only of
+actor people, and they had all died sixty or seventy years ago."
+
+"Actors!" the doctor said. "Poor Samuel! he hates the theatre. I do
+believe he'd rather have pictures of the devil."
+
+"Oh, but wait. You haven't heard the rest of it. It appears that when
+the boy looked at 'em yesterday morning he found they weren't as
+valuable as he thought--I don't understand that part of it," Martha
+acknowledged--"so what does he do but march downstairs, and put 'em
+all in the kitchen stove! What do you think of that?"
+
+"I think," said William King, "that he has always gone off at half-
+cock ever since he was born. But Martha, the serious thing is his
+spending money that didn't belong to him."
+
+"I should think it was serious! If he'd been some poor little clerk in
+the bank, instead of Mr. Samuel Wright's only son, he would have found
+it was serious! Willy, what do you make of him?"
+
+"He is queer," William said; "queer as Dick's hatband; but that's all.
+Sam wouldn't do a mean thing, or a dirty thing, any more than a girl
+would."
+
+"And now he thinks he's in love with this Richie woman," Martha went
+on--but William made his escape. He had to go and hitch up, he said.
+
+Before he took Jinny out of her stall he went into the harness-room
+and hunted about on a shelf until, behind a rusty currycomb and two
+empty oil-bottles, he found a small mirror. It was misty and flecked
+with clear spots where the quicksilver had dropped away, but when he
+propped it against the cobwebbed window he could see himself fairly
+well. Staring into its dim depths he retied his necktie; then he
+backed the buggy out of the carriage-house. But after he had put his
+mare between the shafts he hesitated.... The buggy was very shabby; it
+sagged badly on the right side and there was a rent in the faded
+cushion. The doctor looked at his watch.... Then, hurriedly, led Jinny
+back to her stall, got a bucket of water and a sponge, and washed off
+the dashboard and wheels. After that he fumbled along a dusty beam to
+find a bottle of oil with which he touched up the harness. But when
+all was done he shook his head. The buggy was hopeless. Nevertheless,
+when he climbed in and slapped Jinny's flank with the newly oiled rein
+he was careful to sit in the middle of the seat to make the springs
+truer, and he avoided the mud-puddles on the road up to the Stuffed
+Animal House. There were a good many puddles, for it had rained the
+day before. To-day the clouds had gathered up behind the hills into
+white domes, but the sky was that faint April blue that dims easily
+into warm mists. There was the smell of earth, the fainter scent of
+unopened buds, and from the garden borders of the Stuffed Animal House
+came the pungent odor of box.
+
+Helena Richie, standing by a bed of crown-imperials, bareheaded, a
+trowel in her gloved hand, her smooth cheek flushed with the unwonted
+exertion of planting seeds, caught the exquisite breath of the box,
+and sighed; then, listlessly, she turned to walk back towards the
+house. Before she reached it the gate clicked and Dr. King came up the
+path. She saw him and looked hurriedly about, as if seeking a way of
+escape, but it was too late.
+
+"Gardening?" he called to her.
+
+"Yes," she said, and her smile like reluctant sunshine did not betray
+to the doctor that he was not welcome.
+
+"Don't work too hard," he cautioned her. It seemed to William King,
+looking at her with wondering admiration, that she was too delicate a
+creature to handle a trowel. There was a certain soft indolence in the
+way she moved that was a delight to his eye. It occurred to him that
+he would ask his Martha why she didn't wear gardening-gloves. Mrs.
+Richie wore them, and as she pulled one off he saw how soft and white
+her hand was....
+
+"How's the patient?" he asked.
+
+"Poor Maggie? Oh, she's pretty uncomfortable I'm afraid."
+
+They had gone together to the front porch, and as she stood on the
+lower step looking up at him, the sunshine suddenly filled her eyes
+with limpid brown light. "Maggie is in her room in the ell--the first
+door on the left. Shall I show you the way?"
+
+"I know the way," he said.
+
+Mrs. Richie sat down on the porch step to wait for him. She had
+nothing else to do. She never had anything to do. She had tried to be
+interested in the garden, and bought a trowel and some seeds and
+wandered out into the borders; but a manufactured interest has no
+staying quality--especially if it involves any hard work. She was glad
+when William King came back and sat down beside her; sickness was not
+an agreeable topic, but it was a topic.
+
+"Maggie will be all right in two or three days, but don't let her go
+into the kitchen before Monday. A bad throat pulls you down. And she's
+had a good deal of pain."
+
+"Oh, poor Maggie!" she said wincing.
+
+"A sore throat is nothing so very dreadful," William assured her with
+open amusement.
+
+She drew a breath of relief. "Oh, I'm glad! I can't bear to think of
+pain." Then she looked at him anxiously. "Don't you think she can cook
+before Monday? I'm so tired of scrappy dinners.
+
+"I'm afraid not," William King said. "I'm very sorry." But that his
+sorrow was not for Maggie was evident.
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Mrs. Richie; and then her eyes crinkled with gayety
+at his concern. "I don't really mind, Dr. King."
+
+"I shouldn't blame you if you did. Nobody likes scrappy dinners. I
+wish you would come down and have dinner with us?"
+
+"Oh, thank you, no," she said. And the sudden shy retreat into her
+habitual reserve was followed by a silence that suggested departure to
+the doctor. As he got up he remembered Dr. Lavendar and the little
+boy, but he was at a loss how to introduce the subject. In his
+perplexity he frowned, and Mrs. Richie said quickly:
+
+"Of course she sha'n't do any work. I'm not so bad-tempered as you
+think; I only meant that I don't like discomfort."
+
+"_You_ bad-tempered?" he said. "No, indeed! You're just the opposite.
+That's why I suggested you when I heard about this boy."
+
+"What boy?"
+
+"Why, a little fellow of seven--David his name is--that Dr. Lavendar
+is trying to find a home for. And I thought perhaps you--"
+
+"--would take him?" cried Mrs. Richie in astonishment, and then she
+laughed. "_I!_"
+
+"Why, it occurred to me that perhaps you might be lonely, and--"
+
+Helena Richie stopped laughing; she pulled off her other glove and
+looked down at her white hands. "Well, yes, I'm lonely. But--I don't
+like children, Dr. King."
+
+"You don't?" he said blankly, and in his surprise he sat down again.
+"Oh, I'm sure that's only because you don't know them. If you had ever
+known a child--"
+
+"I have," Mrs. Richie said, "one." Her voice was bleak; the gayety had
+dropped out of it; for an instant she looked old. William King
+understood.
+
+"It died?"
+
+She nodded. She began to pull her gloves on again, smoothing down each
+finger carefully and not looking at him.
+
+"A little girl?"
+
+"Boy." She turned her face away, but he saw her chin tremble. There
+was a moment's silence; then the doctor said with curious harshness.
+
+"Well, anyhow, you know what it means to have owned your own."
+
+"Better not have known!"
+
+"I can't feel that. But perhaps I don't understand."
+
+"You don't understand." Her head, with its two soft braids wound
+around it like a wreath, was bent so that he could not see her face.
+"Dr. King, his father--hurt him. Yes; hurt a little baby, eight
+months and twelve days old. He died seven weeks later."
+
+William drew in his breath; he found no words.
+
+"That was twelve years ago, but I can't seem to--to get over it," she
+said with a sort of gasp.
+
+"But how--" Dr. King began.
+
+"Oh, he was not himself. He was--happy, I believe you call it
+'happy'?"
+
+"How did you bear it!"
+
+"I didn't bear it I suppose. I never have borne it!"
+
+"Did he repent before he died?" William King said passionately.
+
+"Before he--?" Her voice suddenly shook; she made elaborate pretence
+of calmness, fastening her gloves and looking at them critically; then
+she said: "Yes, Dr. King; he repented. He repented!"
+
+"If there ever was excuse for divorce, you had it!"
+
+"You don't think there ever is?" she asked absently.
+
+"No," William said. "I suppose you'll think I'm very old-fashioned,
+but I don't, unless--" he stopped short; he could not have put his
+qualifying thought into words to any woman, especially not to this
+woman, so like a girl in spite of her thirty-odd years. "You see," he
+said, awkwardly, "it's such an unusual thing. It never happened in Old
+Chester; why, I don't believe I ever saw a--a divorced person in my
+life!"
+
+"Well," she said, "anyhow, I didn't get a divorce."
+
+"Mrs. Richie!" he said, blushing to his temples, "you didn't think I
+thought of such a thing?"
+
+But it was plain that she regretted her confidence; she rose with the
+evident purpose of changing the subject. "I must go and put in some
+more seeds. Why doesn't Dr. Lavendar keep this little boy? After all,
+he's lonely himself."
+
+"Well, he's an old man you know, and--"
+
+"Dr. King," she broke in, "I don't mind having the child here for a
+week while Dr. Lavendar is looking for somebody to take him. Not
+longer. It wouldn't do. Really it wouldn't. But for a week, perhaps,
+or maybe two!"
+
+"That would be a great help," William King said. "Then Dr. Lavendar
+can have plenty of time to find a home for him. I would have been glad
+to take him myself, but just at present it happens that it is not--I
+should say, Mrs. King is very tired, and--"
+
+"It is perfectly convenient for me," Mrs. Richie said, "if you'll only
+cure Maggie! You must cure Maggie, so that she can make cookies for
+him."
+
+"I'll cure Maggie," the doctor assured her smiling, and went away much
+pleased with himself. But when he got into his shabby old buggy he
+sighed.
+
+"Poor soul!" he said. "Poor soul!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+William King reported the result of his call to Dr. Lavendar, and
+when he told the tragic story of the dead baby the old man blinked and
+shook his head.
+
+"Do you wonder she doesn't call herself Mrs. _Frederick_ Richie?"
+William demanded. "I don't!"
+
+"No; that's natural, that's natural," Dr. Lavendar admitted.
+
+"I suppose it was a dreadful thing to say," said William, "but I just
+burst out and said that if ever there was an excuse for divorce, she
+had it!"
+
+"What did she say?"
+
+"Oh, of course, that she hadn't been divorced. I was ashamed of myself
+the next minute for speaking of such a thing."
+
+"Poor child," said Dr. Lavendar, "living up there alone, and with such
+memories! I guess you're right; I guess she'd like to have little
+David, if only for company. But I think I'll keep him for a week or
+two myself, and let her get sort of acquainted with him under my eye.
+That will give me a chance to get acquainted with her. But to think I
+haven't known about that baby until now! It must be my fault that she
+was not drawn to tell me. But I'm afraid I wasn't drawn to her just at
+first."
+
+Yet Dr. Lavendar was not altogether at fault. This newcomer in Old
+Chester was still a stranger to everybody, except to Sam Wright's Sam
+and to William King. To be sure, as soon as she was settled in her
+house Old Chester had called and asked her to tea, and was confused
+and annoyed because its invitations were not accepted. Furthermore,
+she did not return the calls. She went to church, but not very
+regularly, and she never stopped to gossip in the vestibule or the
+church-yard. Even with Dr. Lavendar she was remote. The first time he
+went to see her he asked, with his usual directness, one or two
+questions: Did Mr. Pryor live in Mercer? No; he had business that
+brought him there occasionally. Where did he live? In Philadelphia.
+Had she any relatives in this part of the world--except her brother?
+No, none; none anywhere. Was Mr. Pryor married? Yes. Had he any
+family? One daughter; his wife was dead. "And you have lost your
+husband?" Dr. Lavendar said, gently. "This is a lonely life for you
+here, I am afraid."
+
+But she said oh, no; not at all; she liked the quiet. Then, with faint
+impatience as if she did not care to talk about her own affairs, she
+added that she had always lived in the East; "but I find it very
+pleasant here," she ended vaguely.
+
+Dr. Lavendar had gone away uneasy and puzzled. Why didn't she live
+with her brother? Family differences no doubt. Curious how families
+fall out! "You'd think they'd be glad to hang together," the solitary
+old man thought; "and they are not necessarily bad folk who quarrel.
+Look at Sam and his boy. Both of 'em good as gold. But it's in the
+blood there," he said to himself sighing.
+
+Sam and his son were not bad folk. The boy had nothing bad about him;
+nothing worse than an unexpectedness that had provided Old Chester
+with smiles for many years. "No; he is not bad; I have seen to
+_that_," his father used to say. "He's hardly been out of my sight
+twenty-four hours at a time. And I put my foot down on college
+with all its temptations. He's good--if he's nothing else!" And
+certainly Samuel Wright was good too. Everybody in Old Chester said
+so. He said so himself. "I, my dear Eliza, have nothing with which to
+reproach myself," he used to tell his wife ponderously in moments of
+conjugal unbending. "I have done my duty. I always do my duty; under
+all circumstances. I am doing my duty now by Sam."
+
+This was when he and his son fell out on one point or another, as they
+had begun to do as soon as young Sam learned to talk; and all because
+the father insisted upon furnishing the boy with his own most
+excellent principles and theories, instead of letting the lad
+manufacture such things for himself. Now when Sam was twenty-three the
+falling-out had become chronic. No doubt it was in the blood, as Dr.
+Lavendar said. Some thirty years before, Sam senior, then a slim and
+dreamy youth, light-hearted and given to writing verses, had fallen
+out with his father, old Benjamin Wright; fallen out so finally that
+in all these years since, the two men, father and son, had not spoken
+one word to each other. If anybody might have been supposed to know
+the cause of that thirty-year-old feud it was Dr. Lavendar. He
+certainly saw the beginning of it....
+
+One stormy March evening Samuel Wright, then twenty-four years old,
+knocked at the Rectory door; Dr. Lavendar, shielding his lamp from the
+wind with one hand, opened it himself.
+
+"Why, Sam, my boy," he said and stopped abruptly. He led the way into
+his study and put the lamp down on the table. "Something is the
+matter?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What is it, Samuel?"
+
+"I can't tell you, sir."
+
+"Does your father know?"
+
+"My father knows.... I will tell you this, Dr. Lavendar--that so help
+me God, I will never speak to my father again."
+
+The young man lifted one hand; his face was dreadful to look upon.
+Then trying to speak in a natural voice he asked if he might stay at
+the Rectory for that night.
+
+Dr. Lavendar took two turns about his study, then he said, "Of course
+you may, Samuel, but I shall feel it my duty to acquaint your father
+with the fact."
+
+"Just as you please, sir."
+
+"And Sam--I hope the night will bring wisdom."
+
+Sam was silent.
+
+"I shall see your father in the morning and try to clear this thing
+up."
+
+"Just as you please, sir. I would like to go to my room now if you
+have no objection."
+
+And that was all Dr. Lavendar got out of the son.
+
+He lighted a lamp and silently preceded his guest up-stairs; then he
+went back to his study and wrote a line to the father. He sent it out
+to the Wright house and sat up until midnight waiting for an answer.
+None came. "Well," said Dr. Lavendar at last trudging up to bed, "the
+boy comes by his obstinacy honestly." The next morning he went early
+to see Mr. Benjamin Wright. But as far as any straightening out of the
+trouble went or any enlightenment as to its cause, he might as well
+have stayed at home.
+
+"Sam send you?"
+
+"No; I came to see what I could do for you both. I take it for granted
+that Sam is at fault in some way? But he is a good boy, so I am sure
+he can be made to see his error."
+
+"Did he tell you what was the trouble?"
+
+"No; will you?"
+
+"Let him come back and behave himself!" the older man said.
+
+Dr. Lavendar thrust out his lower lip with a thoughtful frown. "It
+would expedite things, Wright, if you could tell me a little about the
+affair?"
+
+Mr. Wright hesitated. He thrust his hand down into a blue ginger-jar
+for a piece of dried orange-skin and bit at it as if to steady his
+lips. "Sam can tell you if he wants to. He has perhaps informed you
+that he wishes to see the world? That he thinks life here very narrow?
+No? Well, I sha'n't quote him. All I shall say, is that I am doing my
+duty to him. I've always done my duty to him. If he sees fit to set up
+his own Ebenezer, and say he won't speak to me--I suppose he conveyed
+that filial sentiment to you?--he can do so. When he gets hungry he
+can speak. That's what other puppies do when they are hungry."
+
+And that was all Dr. Lavendar got out of the father....
+
+This was thirty-two years ago. Sain Wright may have been hungry, but
+he never spoke. Instead, he worked. Old Chester seethed with curiosity
+for a while--to see Benjamin Wright pass his son with a contemptuous
+stare, to see Sam pass his father without a glance was very exciting.
+But excitement ebbs in thirty-two years. For one thing, old Mr. Wright
+came less often into town--because he could not bear to meet his son,
+people said; and Samuel never took the hill road out of Old Chester
+for a corresponding reason. Furthermore, it was hard to connect Samuel
+with anything so irrational as a quarrel, for every year he grew in
+solemn common sense. Benjamin Wright's growth was all in the way of
+temper; at least so his boy Simmons, a freckled mulatto of sixty
+years, informed Old Chester.
+
+"He 'ain't got no human feelin's, 'cept for them there canaries,"
+Simmons used to say in an aggrieved voice; "he'll stand and look at
+'em and chirp to 'em by the hour--an' 'en he'll turn round and swear
+at you 'nough to take your leg off," Simmons said, bitterly. Simmons
+did his best for the canaries which he detested, cleaning out the
+cages and scraping the perches and seeing that the seed-trays and
+bath-tubs were always full; he did his best conscientiously, and it
+was hard to be "swore at when you 'ain't done nothin'." Perhaps
+Benjamin Wright had some "human feelings" for his grandson, Sam; but
+certainly Simmons's opinion was justified by his treatment of his
+granddaughters. When by their father's orders the little girls came up
+to the lonely house on the hill, the old man used to pitch small coins
+to them and tell them to go and look at the canaries,--"and then clear
+out. Simmons, give 'em some cake or something! Good-by. Good-by. Clear
+out." Long before he had settled into such dreary living, the son with
+whom he had quarrelled had made a life of his own. His slimness and
+gayety had disappeared as well as his dreaminess and versifying
+instincts. "Poetry?" he had been heard to say, "why, there isn't a
+poem that was ever written that I'd take five minutes out of my
+business to read!" It seemed as if the quarrel had wrenched him from
+the grooves, physical and spiritual, in which Nature had meant him to
+run and started him on lines of hard common sense. He was intensely
+positive; heavy and pompous and painfully literal; inclined to lay
+down the law to everybody; richer than most of us in Old Chester, and
+full of solemn responsibilities as burgess and senior warden and
+banker. His air of aggressive integrity used to make the honestest of
+us feel as if we had been picking pockets! Yes; a good man, as Old
+Chester said.
+
+Years ago Dr. Lavendar had given up trying to reconcile the two
+Wrights; years ago Old Chester's speculations languished and died out.
+Once in a while some one remembered the quarrel and said, "What in the
+world could it have been about?" And once in a while Samuel's own
+children asked awkward questions. "Mother, what was father's row with
+grandfather?" And Mrs. Wright's answer was as direct as the question.
+"I don't know. He never told me."
+
+When this reply was made to young Sam he dropped the subject. He had
+but faint interest in his father, and his grandfather with whom he
+took tea every Sunday night was too important a person to connect with
+so trivial an affair as a quarrel.
+
+This matter of offspring is certainly very curious. Why should the
+solid Samuel Wright and his foolish, obedient Eliza have brought into
+the world a being of mist and fire? A beautiful youth, who laughed or
+wept or sung aloud, indifferent to all about him! Sometimes Sam senior
+used to look at his son and shake his head in bewildered astonishment;
+but often he was angry, and oftener still--though this he never
+admitted--hurt. The boy, always impersonally amiable, never thought it
+worth while to explain himself; partly because he was not interested
+in his father's opinion of his conduct, and partly because he knew he
+could not make himself understood.
+
+"But who, my dear Eliza," Samuel would say to his wife--"who could
+understand such a boy? Look at this last performance of his!
+Purchasing pictures of _actors_! Where does he get such low
+tastes?--unless some of your family were interested in such things?"
+
+"Oh no, Samuel; no, indeed," Mrs. Wright protested nervously.
+
+"And to use money not his own! Do you know what that is called, my
+dear Eliza? It is called--"
+
+"Oh don't, Samuel." whimpered the poor mother.
+
+"And to think how carefully I have trained him! And all I have done
+for him. I let him buy that skiff he said he wanted. Absolute waste of
+money! Our old rowboat is good enough for the girls, so why isn't it
+good enough for him? And I never laid a hand on him in punishment
+either; not many fathers can say that."
+
+As for the bank supplies young Sam had explained to his mother that
+they had been ordered and charged, so what _was_ the matter? And
+Mrs. Wright kneading her tear-soaked handkerchief into a ball, cried
+some more and said:
+
+"Oh, Sam dear, why do you act so?"
+
+Sam looked at her attentively, wondering why her little nose always
+reddened when she cried. But he waited patiently, until she finished
+her rambling reproaches. It occurred to him that he would tell Mrs.
+Richie all about this matter of the prints. "She will understand," he
+thought.
+
+Sam's acquaintance with Mrs. Richie had begun when she was getting
+settled in her new house. Sam senior, having no desire to climb the
+hill road, sent his various communications to his tenant by his son,
+and afterwards Sam junior had communications of his own to make. He
+fell into the habit of stopping there on Sunday afternoons, quite
+oblivious of the fact that Mrs. Richie did not display any pleasure at
+seeing him. After one of these calls he was apt to be late in reaching
+"The Top," as his grandfather's place was called, and old Benjamin
+Wright, in his brown wig and moth-eaten beaver hat, would glare at him
+with melancholy dark eyes.
+
+"Gad-a-mercy, what do you mean,--getting here at six-five! I have my
+tea at six, sir; at six sharp. Either get here on time or stay away. I
+don't care which. Do you hear?"
+
+"Yes, sir," young Sam would murmur.
+
+"Where have you been? Mooning after that female at the Stuffed Animal
+House?"
+
+"I had to leave a message, sir, about the lease."
+
+"How long does it take to leave a message about a lease?"
+
+"She was not down-stairs and I had to wait--"
+
+"_I_ had to wait! That's more to the point. There, don't talk about
+it. You drive me crazy with your chatter."
+
+Then they would sit down to supper in a black silence only broken by
+an occasional twitter from one of the many cages that hung about the
+room. But afterwards young Sam had his reward; the library, a toby,
+long before he was old enough to smoke, and his grandfather reading
+aloud in a wonderful voice, deep, sonorous, flexible--Shakespeare,
+Massinger, Beaumont and Fletcher. To be sure, there was nothing
+personal in such reading--it was not done to give pleasure to young
+Sam. Every night the old man rumbled out the stately lines, sitting by
+himself in this gloomy room walled to the ceiling with books, and
+warmed by a soft-coal fire that snapped and bubbled behind the iron
+bars of the grate. Sometimes he would burst into angry ecstasy at the
+beauty of what he read "There! What do you think of that?"
+
+"Oh, it's splendid!"
+
+"Hah! Much you know about it! There is about as much poetry in your
+family as there is in that coal scuttle."
+
+It was when he was eighteen that once the old man let his grandson
+read _The Tempest_ with him. It was a tremendous evening to Sam.
+In the first place, his grandfather swore at him with a fury that
+really attracted his attention. But that night the joy of the drama
+suddenly possessed him. The deed was done; the dreaming youth awoke to
+the passion of art. As Benjamin Wright gradually became aware of it
+delight struggled with his customary anger at anything unexpected. He
+longed to share his pleasure with somebody; once he mentioned to Dr.
+Lavendar that "that cub, Sam, really has something to him!" After that
+he took the boy's training seriously in hand, and his artless pride
+concealed itself in a severity that knew no bounds of words. When Sam
+confessed his wish to write a drama in blank verse, his grandfather
+swore at him eagerly and demanded every detail of what he called the
+"fool plot of the thing."
+
+"What does that female at the Stuffed Animal House say to the idea of
+your writing a drama?" he asked contemptuously.
+
+"She says I may read it to her."
+
+"Knows as much about dramatic poetry as you do I suppose? When you
+finish the first act bring it to me. I'll tell you how bad it is."
+
+His eager scoffing betrayed him, and every Sunday night, in spite of
+slaughtering criticism the boy took courage to talk of his poem. He
+had no criticism from Mrs. Richie.
+
+When he first began to call at the Stuffed Animal House she had been
+coldly impatient, then uneasy then snubbing. But nothing can be so
+obtuse as a boy; it never occurs to him that he is not wanted. Sam
+continued to call and to tell her of his play and to look at her with
+beautiful, tragic eyes, that by and by openly adored. Inevitably the
+coldness to which he was so calmly impervious wore off; a boy's
+innocent devotion must touch any woman no matter how self-absorbed she
+may be. Mrs. Richie began to be glad to see him. As for his drama, it
+was beautiful, she said.
+
+"No," Sam told her, "it isn't--yet. You don't know. But I like to read
+it to you, even if you don't." His candor made her laugh, and before
+she knew it in spite of the difference in their years they were
+friends As William King said, she was lonely, and Sam's devotion was
+at least an interest. Besides, she really liked the boy; he amused
+her, and her empty days were so devoid of amusement! "I can't read
+novels _all_ the time," she complained. In this very bread-and-butter
+sort of interest she had no thought of possible consequences to
+Sam. A certain pleasant indolence of mind made it easy not to think of
+consequences at all. But he had begun to love her--with that first
+passion of youth so divinely tender and ridiculous! After a while he
+talked less of his play and more of himself. He told her of his
+difficulties at home, how he hated the bank, and how stupid the girls
+were.
+
+"Lydia is the nicest, but she has no more imagination than a turnip.
+They are very uninteresting--my family," he said meditatively. "I
+don't like any of them--except mother. Mother hasn't any sense, but
+she's good," Sam ended earnestly.
+
+"Oh, but you mustn't say things like that!"
+
+"Why not? They're true," he said with a surprised look.
+
+"Well, but we don't always tell the truth right out," she reminded
+him.
+
+"I do," said Sam, and then explained that he didn't include his
+grandfather in his generalization. "Grandfather's bully; you ought to
+hear him swear!"
+
+"Oh, I don't want to!" she said horrified.
+
+"I told him that I burned the prints up," Sam went on. "And he said,
+'good riddance to bad rubbish.' That was just like grandfather! Of
+course he did say that I was a d--I mean, a fool, to buy them in the
+first place; and I knew I was. But having bought them, the only thing
+to do was to burn them. But father!--"
+
+Mrs. Richie's eyes crinkled with mischievous gayety. "Poor Mr.
+Wright!"
+
+Sam dropped his clasped hands between his knees. "It's queer how I
+always do the wrong thing. Though it never seems wrong to me. You know
+father would not let me go to college for fear I'd go to the devil?"
+he laughed joyously. "But I might just as well, for be thinks
+everything I do in Old Chester is wrong." Then he sighed. "Sometimes I
+get pretty tired of being disapproved of;--especially as I never can
+understand why it is. The fact is people are not reasonable," he
+complained. "I can bear anything but unreasonableness."
+
+She nodded. "I know, I never could please my grandmother--she brought
+me up. My mother and father died when I was a baby. I think
+grandmother hated me; she thought everything I did was wrong. Oh, I
+was so miserable! And when I was eighteen I got married--and that was
+a mistake."
+
+Sam gazed up at her in silent sympathy,
+
+"I mean my--husband was so much older than I," she said. Then with an
+evident effort to change the subject she added that one would think it
+would be simple enough to be happy; "all my life I only wanted to be
+happy," she said.
+
+"You're happy now, aren't you?" he asked,
+
+She looked down at him--he was sitting on a stool before the fire near
+her feet--and laughed with a catching of the breath. "Oh, yes, yes;
+I'm happy."
+
+And Sara caught his breath too, for there were tears in her eyes.
+
+But instantly she veered away from personalities. "What is that scar
+on your wrist?"
+
+Sam looked down at his hands clasped about his knees, and blushed
+faintly. "Oh, nothing; I was very young when that happened."
+
+"How did it happen?" she asked absently. It was often possible to
+start Sam talking and then think her own thoughts without
+interruption.
+
+"Why, I was about twelve, I believe," Sam said, "and Miss Ellen
+Bailey--she used to teach school here, then she got married and went
+out West;--she gave me a little gold image of Pasht, at least I
+thought it was gold. It was one of those things you ladies wear on
+your watch-chains, you know,"
+
+"Yes?" she said indolently.
+
+"Well, I took a tremendous fancy to it. But it seems it wasn't gold,
+it was brass, and somebody told me so; I think it was Miss Ellen
+herself. I was so disappointed, I didn't want to live--queer! I can
+remember now just how I felt; a sort of sinking, here;" Sam laid his
+hand on his breast, "So I decided to throw myself out of the window. I
+did; but unfortunately--"
+
+ "You threw yourself out of the window!" she is interrupted horrified.
+
+Sam laughed. "Oh, well, I wasn't successful: I continued to live.
+Unfortunately my trousers caught on the grape trellis under the
+window, and there I hung! It must have been pretty funny--though I
+didn't think so at the time. First place, I tore my wrist on a nail--
+that's the scar; and then father caught me and sent me to bed for
+being a fool; so I didn't gain anything." His lip drooped. His feeling
+for his father was a candid mixture of amusement and contempt.
+
+"But do you always act on the spur of the moment?" she said
+astonished.
+
+Sam laughed and said he supposed so. "I am a good deal of a fool," he
+added simply.
+
+"Well," she said sighing, "it's dangerous to be like that. I know,
+because I--I am a good deal of a fool myself." Then again, abruptly,
+she changed the subject. "What do you think? I'm going to have some
+company!"
+
+Sam frowned. "Your brother?"
+
+"No, oh no; not--Mr. Pryor." Then she told him that Dr. Lavendar had
+asked her if she would look after a little boy for him for a few
+weeks.
+
+Sam was not responsive. Little boys were a great deal of trouble, he
+said.
+
+"Come now; how long since--"
+
+Sam's limpid deer's-eyes reproached her silently.
+
+"How shall I amuse him?" she said.
+
+And Sam eager to serve her promised to find a pair of rabbits for the
+child. "I used to like rabbits when I was young," he explained.
+
+At last, after his hostess had swallowed many yawns, Sam reluctantly
+said good night. He went bounding down the hill in the darkness,
+across the fields, through the woods. In the starlight, the great
+world lay dim and lovely before him--it belonged to him! He felt the
+joyous buffet of the night wind upon his face, the brush of boughs
+against his shoulder, the scent of young ferns, and the give of the
+spongy earth under his feet; he sprang in long leaps over the grass,
+the tears were wet upon his fresh cheeks, he sang aloud. But he did
+not know what he sang; in his young breast, Love, like some warm
+living thing, stirred, and lifted glorious wings and drove his voice
+throbbing and exultant to his lips! As he came down Main Street, the
+church clock struck eleven. But it might have struck twelve and he
+would not have been disturbed.
+
+Standing in the doorway of the Wright house in thunderous silence the
+senior warden, lamp in hand awaited his son. As Sam entered, the
+silence broke into a flash of crackling and scathing contempt.
+
+"It does not occur to you, sir, I suppose, that a lady may find your
+society tiresome? It is after eleven!"
+
+Sam smiling to himself hung up his hat. He was reflecting that he must
+see about those rabbits at once.
+
+"You will understand, sir, if you please, that while you do me the
+honor to live under my roof you will return to it at night at a
+respectable hour. I will not sit up for you in this way. You will be
+in at ten o'clock. Do you hear?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Sam; and added with sudden awakening of interest, "if
+you would let me have a key, father, I--"
+
+"I will not let you have a key! I will have no boy entering my house
+at midnight with a key! Do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir," Sam murmured falling back into his own thoughts.
+
+Mr. Wright, still talking, stood at the foot of the stairs so that his
+son could not pass him. Sam yawned, then noticed how in oratorical
+denunciation his father's long upper lip curved like the beak of a
+bird of prey; behind his hand he tried to arch his own lip in the same
+manner. He really did not hear what was said to him; he only sighed
+with relief when it was over and he was allowed to go up-stairs and
+tumble sleepily into bed.
+
+As for his long-suffering hostess, when she was alone Helena Richie
+rubbed her eyes and began to wake up. "That boy never knows when to
+go!" she said to herself with amused impatience. Then her mind turned
+to her own affairs. This little boy, David Allison, would be in Old
+Chester on Saturday; he was to stay with Dr. Lavendar for a while, and
+then come to her for a week or two. But she was beginning to regret
+the invitation she had sent through Dr. King. It, would be pleasant to
+have the little fellow, but "I can't keep him. so why should I take
+him even for a week? I might get fond of him! I'm afraid it's a
+mistake. I wonder what Lloyd would think? I don't believe he really
+loves children. And yet--he cared when the baby died."
+
+She pulled a low chair up to the hearth and sat down, her elbows on
+her knees, her fingers ruffling the soft locks about her forehead.
+"Oh, my baby! my little, little baby!" she said in a broken whisper.
+The old passion of misery swept over her; she shrank lower in her
+chair, rocking herself to and fro, her fingers pressed against her
+eyes. It was thirteen years ago, and yet even now in these placid days
+in Old Chester, to think of that time brought the breathless smother
+of agony back again--the dying child, the foolish brute who had done
+him to death.... If the baby had lived he would be nearly fourteen
+years old now; a big boy! She wondered whether his hair would still
+have been curly? She knew in her heart that she never could have had
+the courage to cut those soft curls off--and yet, boys hated curls,
+she thought; and smiled proudly. He would have been so manly! If he
+had lived, how different everything would have been, how incredibly
+different! For of course, if he had lived she would have been happy in
+spite of Frederick. And happiness was all she wanted.
+
+She brushed the tears from her flushed cheeks, and propping her chin
+in her hands stared into the fire, thinking--thinking.... Her
+childhood had been passed with her father's mother, a silent woman who
+with bitter expectation of success had set herself to discover in
+Helena traits of the poor, dead, foolish wife who had broken her son's
+heart. "Grandmamma hated me," Helena Richie reflected. "She begrudged
+me the least little bit of pleasure." Yet her feeling towards the hard
+old woman now was not resentment; it was only wonder. "_Why_ didn't
+she like me to be happy?" she thought. It never occurred to her
+that her grandmother who had guarded and distrusted her had also loved
+her. "Of course I never loved her," she reminded herself, "but I
+wouldn't have wanted her to be unhappy. She wanted me to be wretched.
+Curious!" Yet she realized that at that time she had not desired love;
+she had only desired happiness. Looking back, she pondered on her
+astounding immaturity; what a child she had been to imagine that
+merely to get away from that gray life with her grandmother would be
+happiness, and so had married Frederick. Frederick.... She was
+eighteen, and so pretty. She smiled remembering how pretty she was.
+And Frederick had made such promises! She was to have every kind of
+happiness. Of course she had married him. Thinking of it now, she did
+not in the least blame herself. If the dungeon doors open and the
+prisoner catches a glimpse of the green world of sunshine, what
+happens? Of course she had married Frederick! As for love, she never
+thought of it; it did not enter into the bargain--at least on her
+part. She married him because he wanted her to, and because he would
+make her happy. And, oh, how glad her grandmother had been! At the
+memory of that passionate satisfaction, Helena clasped her hands over
+the two brown braids that folded like a chaplet around her head and
+laughed aloud, the tears still glittering on her lashes. Her prayers,
+her grandmother said, had been answered; the girl was safe--an honest
+wife! "Now lettest Thou Thy servant--" the old woman murmured, with
+dreadful gratitude in her voice.
+
+Thinking of that gratitude, the tears dried upon Helena's cheeks, hot
+with the firelight and with her thoughts. "Suppose she had lived just
+a little longer?--just three years longer? Where would her gratitude
+have been then?" Helena's face overflowed with sudden gay malice, but
+below the malice was weariness. "You are happy now--aren't you?" Sam
+Wright had said.... Why, yes, certainly. Frederick had "repented," as
+Dr. King expressed it; she had seen to his "_repentance_"! That in
+itself was something to have lived for--a searing flame of happiness.
+Enough one might think to satisfy her--if she could only have
+forgotten the baby. At first she had believed that she could forget
+him. Lloyd had told her she would. How young she had been at
+twenty-one to think that any one could forget! She smiled dryly at her
+childish hope and at Lloyd's ignorance; but his tenderness had been so
+passionately convincing,--and how good he had been about the baby! He
+had let her talk of him all she wanted to. Of course, after a while he
+got a little tired of the subject, and naturally. It was Frederick's
+baby! And Lloyd hated Frederick as much as she did. How they used to
+talk about him in those first days of his "repentance!"... "Have you
+heard anything?" "Yes; running down-hill every day." "Is there any
+news?" "Yes, he'll drink himself into his grave in six months." Ah,
+that was happiness indeed!--"his _grave_, in six months!"... She
+flung herself back in her chair, her hands dropping listlessly into
+her lap. "Oh--my little, dead baby!"...
+
+It was nearly midnight; the fire had burned quite out; the room had
+fallen into shadows. Oh, yes, as she told Sam Wright, she was happy.
+Her face fell into lines of dull indifference.
+
+She got up, wearily, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, as a child
+does; then suddenly remembered that she had reached no conclusion
+about this little boy Dr. Lavendar was interested in. Suppose she
+should get fond of him and want to keep him--how would Lloyd feel
+about it? Would he think the child might take her thoughts from him?
+But at that she smiled; he could not be so foolish! "I'll write and
+ask him, anyhow. Of course, if he objects, I wouldn't dream of it. I
+wonder what he will think?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+Mr. Lloyd Pryor thought very deeply after he read Mrs. Richie's
+letter. He sat in his office and smoked and reflected. And as he
+reflected his face brightened. It was a handsome face, with a mouth
+that smiled easily. His heavy-lidded eyes behind astonishingly thick
+and curling lashes were blue; when he lifted them the observer felt a
+slight shock, for they were curiously motionless; generally, however,
+the heavy lids drooped, lazily good-humored. He read Mrs. Richie's
+letter and tapped the edge of his desk with strong, white fingers.
+
+"Nothing could be better," he said.
+
+Then suddenly he decided that he would go to Old Chester and say so in
+person. "I suppose I ought to go, anyhow; I haven't been there for six
+weeks. Yes; this child is just what she needs."
+
+And that was how it came about that when he went home he pulled his
+daughter Alice's pretty ear and said he was going away that night. "I
+shall take the ten-o'clock train," he said.
+
+His girl--a pleasant, flower-like young creature--scolded him
+affectionately. "I wish you wouldn't take so many journeys. Promise to
+be careful; I worry about you when I'm not with you to take care of
+you," she said, in her sweet, anxious young voice. Her father,
+smiling, promised prudence, and for the mere joy of watching her let
+her pack his bag, lecturing him as she did so about his health. "Now
+that you have undertaken all this extra business of the Pryor-Barr
+people, you owe it to your stockholders to be careful of your health,"
+she told him, refusing to notice his smile when he solemnly agreed
+with her.
+
+"What would happen to the Company if anything happened to you?" she
+insisted, rubbing her soft cheek against his.
+
+"Ruin, of course."
+
+But she would not laugh. "And what would happen to _me_?"
+
+"Ah, well, that's a different matter," he admitted, and kissed her and
+bade _her_ be careful. "What would happen to me if anything happened
+to you?" he teased.
+
+She hung about him, brooding over him like a little mother dove with a
+hundred questions. "Are you going anywhere except to Mercer?"
+
+"Well, yes; possibly."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Oh, to a place called Old Chester."
+
+"Who are you going to see there?"
+
+"Nobody you know, Gas-bag! I never heard of such curiosity!"
+
+"Ah, but I like to think about you when you are away, and know just
+where you are and what you are doing every minute of the time."
+
+At which he laughed and kissed her, and was off to take the night
+train for Mercer, which made it possible for him to catch the morning
+stage for Old Chester.
+
+There was one other passenger in the stage--a little boy with a soft
+thatch of straight, yellow hair that had been chopped short around the
+bowl of some domestic barber. He sat on the opposite seat and held a
+bundle in his arms, peering out over the top of it with serious blue
+eyes.
+
+"Well, young man, where are you bound?" inquired Mr. Pryor. When the
+child said "Old Chester," Lloyd Pryor tossed a quarter out of the
+window to a hostler and bade him go into the stage-house and buy an
+apple. "Here, youngster," he said, when the man handed it up to him,
+"take that.--Keep the change, my man."
+
+When it did not involve any personal inconvenience, Mr. Lloyd Pryor
+had a quick and cordial kindliness which most people found very
+attractive. The child, however, did not seem much impressed; he took
+the apple gravely, and said, "Thank you, sir;" but he was not
+effusive. He looked out of the window and hugged his bundle. Half-way
+to Old Chester he began to nibble the apple, biting it very slowly, so
+that he might not make a noise, and thrusting it back into his pocket
+after each bite with an apprehensive glance at the gentleman in the
+corner. When he had finished it and swallowed the core, he said,
+suddenly:
+
+"Mister, have you any little boys and girls?"
+
+His companion, who had quite forgotten him, looked over the top of his
+newspaper with a start. "What? What did you say? Oh--boys and girls?
+Yes; I have a girl." He smiled as he spoke.
+
+"Is she as big as me?"
+
+Lloyd Pryor put down his paper and twitched his glasses off. "About
+twice as big I should think," he said kindly.
+
+"Twice as big! And twice as old?"
+
+"How old are you?"
+
+"I'm seven, going on eight."
+
+"Well, then, let's see. Alice is--she is twice and five years more as
+old. What do you make of that?"
+
+The child began to count on his fingers, and, after looking at him a
+minute or two with some amusement, Mr. Pryor returned to his paper.
+After a while the boy said, suddenly, "In the flood the ducks couldn't
+be drowned, could they?"
+
+But Lloyd Pryor had become interested in what he was reading. "You
+talk too much, young man," he said coldly, and there was no further
+conversation. The old stage jogged along in the uncertain sunshine;
+sometimes Mr. Pryor smoked, once he took a nap. While he slept the
+little boy looked at him furtively, but by and by he turned to the
+window, absorbed in his own affairs.
+
+As the stage pulled into Old Chester, Mr. Pryor roused himself. "Well,
+my boy, here we are," he said.
+
+The child quivered and his hands tightened on his bundle, but he said
+nothing. When they drew up at the tavern, there was Danny and Goliath
+and Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"Mary gave me some gingerbread for him," Dr. Lavendar was saying to
+Van Horn. "I've got it tied up in my handkerchief. Why," he
+interrupted himself, screwing up his eyes and peering into the dusk of
+the old coach--"why, I believe here's Mrs. Richie's brother too!"
+
+As the horses came to a standstill, Dr. Lavendar was in quite a
+flutter of eagerness. But when the very little boy clambered out, the
+old minister only shook hands with him, man fashion, with no
+particular display of interest.
+
+"I'm glad to see you, David. I am Dr. Lavendar." Then he turned to say
+"How do you do?" to Mr. Pryor. "Why, look here," he added in a
+cheerful after-thought, "I'm going up your way; get out and come along
+in my buggy. Hey! Danny! Stop your snarling. The scoundrel's temper is
+getting bad in his old age. Those snails Jonas drives can't keep up
+with my trotter."
+
+"But you have one passenger already," Mr. Pryor protested. "I'll just
+go on up in the stage, thank you."
+
+"Oh," Dr. Lavendar said, "David's bundle is the biggest part of him,
+isn't it, David? We'll leave it with Van Horn and get it as we come
+back. Come along, Mr. Pryor. There, David, tuck yourself down in
+front; Danny can tag behind." There was a moment's hesitation, and
+then Mr. Pryor did as he was bid. Dr. Lavendar climbed in himself and
+off they jogged, while Jonas remarked to Van Horn that the old
+gentleman wasn't just the one to talk about snails, as he looked at
+it. But Mr. Pryor, watching the April sunshine chased over the hills
+by warm cloud shadows and bursting into joy again on the low meadows,
+reflected that he had done well for himself in exchanging the dark
+cavern of the stage for Dr. Lavendar's easy old buggy and the open
+air. They stopped a minute on the bridge to look at the creek swollen
+by spring rains; it was tugging and tearing at the branches that
+dipped into it, and heaping up rocking lines of yellow froth along the
+banks.
+
+"In summer that's a fine place to wade," Dr. Lavendar observed. David
+glanced up at him and then down at the water in silence.
+
+"Well, Goliath! at this rate Jonas could beat us," said Dr. Lavendar,
+and smacked a rein down on the shaggy old back. David looked around at
+Mr. Pryor with sudden interest.
+
+"Is your name Goliath?" he asked.
+
+Lloyd Pryor was greatly amused. "I hope you haven't such a thing as a
+sling with you, David?" he said.
+
+The little boy grew very red, but made no reply.
+
+"It's my horse's name," Dr. Lavendar told him, so kindly that David
+did not hear the chuckle in his voice. But the color was hot in the
+child's face for many minutes. He had nothing to say for the rest of
+the pull up the hill, except briefly, "'Bye," when Mr. Pryor alighted
+at the green gate of a foot-path that led up to the Stuffed Animal
+House.
+
+"I'm very much obliged for the lift, Dr. Lavendar," he said in his
+coldly courteous voice, and turned quickly at an exclamation behind
+him.
+
+"Lloyd!"
+
+"I've brought your brother home, Mrs. Richie," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+Helena Richie was standing inside the hedge, her face radiant.
+
+"Oh, Lloyd!" she said again breathlessly.
+
+Mr. Pryor laughed and shook hands with her in somewhat formal
+greeting.
+
+"Do you see my other passenger?" Dr. Lavendar called out. "He came
+with your brother. David, suppose you shake hands with Mrs. Richie? I
+generally take my hat off, David, when I shake hands with a lady."
+
+"I don't, sir," said David, gently, putting a hand out across the
+wheel. Mrs. Richie had not noticed the little boy; but when she took
+his hand her eyes lingered on his face, and suddenly she drew him
+forward and kissed him.
+
+David bore it politely, but he looked over her head at Mr. Pryor.
+"Mister, Alice is nineteen."
+
+"_What?_" Mr. Pryor said, his heavy-lidded eyes opening with a blue
+gleam; then he laughed. "Oh yes, I'd forgotten our sum in arithmetic;
+yes, Alice is nineteen."
+
+"Well," Dr. Lavendar said, "g'long, Goliath!" and the buggy went
+tugging on up the hill. "David, if you'll look in my pocket you'll
+find some gingerbread."
+
+ David thrust a hand down into the capacious pocket and brought up the
+gingerbread, wrapped in a red silk handkerchief. He offered it
+silently to Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"I don't believe I'll take any. Suppose you eat it, David?"
+
+"No, thank you, sir."
+
+Dr. Lavendar shook his head in a puzzled way.
+
+David swallowed nervously. "Please, sir," he said, "was that lady that
+gentleman's sister?"
+
+"Yes," Dr. Lavendar told him cheerfully.
+
+"But if she is his sister," the little boy reasoned, "why didn't she
+kiss him? Janey, she--she always gave me forty kisses."
+
+"Just forty?" Dr. Lavendar inquired, looking at the child over his
+spectacles.
+
+David was silent for a moment, then he said, earnestly: "I never
+counted. But Janey, she always said 'forty kisses.'" His whole face
+quivered. A very large tear gathered, trembled, then rolled over; he
+held his hands together under the lap-robe and looked the other way;
+then he raised one shoulder and rubbed his cheek against it.
+
+"I guess Janey was a pretty nice sister," Dr. Lavendar said.
+
+David's hands tightened; he looked up speechless, into the kind old
+face.
+
+"David," said Dr. Lavendar in a business-like way, "would you mind
+driving for me? I want to look over my note-book."
+
+"Driving?" said David. "Oh, _my!_" His cheeks were wet but his eyes
+shone. "I don't mind, sir. I'd just as lieves as not!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+"So that's the youngster we're going to adopt, is it?" Mr. Pryor
+said; then he looked at Helena through his curling brown lashes, with
+open amusement. Her eyes were full of tears.
+
+"It has been--so long," she said faintly.
+
+"I've been very busy," he explained.
+
+She nodded and smiled. "Anyhow, you are here now. But, oh, Maggie has
+a sore throat. I don't know what we're going to have for dinner. Oh,
+how glad I am you're here!" Her face was glowing, but her chin
+trembled.
+
+"Why, this is very flattering, I'm sure; I thought you were so taken
+up with your orphan that you wouldn't care whether I came or not."
+
+"You know that isn't true," she said gayly, brushing her cheek against
+his arm; "but isn't he a dear little fellow?--though I'm sorry his
+hair isn't curly." Then her face changed. "What did he mean about
+Alice being nineteen?"
+
+"Oh, Alice? Why, he asked me in the stage if I had any children, and I
+put Alice's age as a sum in mental arithmetic for him. And he asked me
+if my name was Goliath."
+
+But she had forgotten David. "Lloyd! To think you are here!"
+
+"Yes, I'm here, and a hamper is here, too. I hope the stage will bring
+it up pretty soon. I don't believe I could stand an Old Chester bill
+of fare. It's queer about women; they don't care what they eat. I
+don't believe you've got anything on hand but bread and jam and tea?"
+
+"I care a great deal!" she assured him laughing, and then looked
+worried. "Yes, I really have been living on bread and jam." She was
+hanging on his arm, and once she kissed his hand. "Will you go
+upstairs? And I'll see what we can do about food. That dreadful
+Maggie! She's sick in bed."
+
+Mr. Pryor looked annoyed. "Can't she get us something to eat? Ask her,
+Nelly; I don't believe it will hurt her. Here; give her that," and he
+took a crumpled bill out of his waistcoat pocket.
+
+She did not take the money, but her eyes shone. "You are the most
+generous being!" she said. Then, sobering, she thought of Maggie's
+throat--hesitated--and Maggie was lost. For when she opened the
+woman's door, and in her sweet, appealing voice declared that Mr.
+Pryor had come unexpectedly, and was so hungry--what _should_ they
+do?--Maggie, who adored her, insisted upon going down to the kitchen.
+
+"Oh, Maggie, you oughtn't to! I oughtn't to let you. Maggie, look
+here: you will be careful, won't you?"
+
+"Now, you go right along back to your brother," the woman commanded
+smiling. "I'm goin' to get into my clothes; t'won't do me a bit of
+harm."
+
+And Helena, protesting and joyous, fled to her room and to her mirror.
+She flung off her cambric morning dress and ran to hunt in her
+wardrobe for something pretty. With girlish hurry she pulled her hair
+down, braided it afresh, and fastened the burnished plats around her
+head like a wreath; then she brushed the soft locks in the nape of her
+neck about her finger, and let them fall into loose curls. She dressed
+with breathless haste, and when she finished, stood for a minute, her
+lip between her teeth, staring at herself in the glass. And as she
+stared her face fell; for as the color and sparkle faded a little,
+care suddenly looked out of the leaf-brown eyes--care and something
+like fright. But instantly drawing in her breath, she flung her head
+up as one who prepares for battle. When she went down-stairs and found
+Mr. Pryor waiting for her in the parlor, the sparkle had all come
+back. She had put on a striped silk dress, faint rose and green, made
+very full in the skirt; her flat lace collar was fastened by a little
+old pin--an oval of pearls holding a strand of hair like floss-silk.
+
+"Why, Nelly," her visitor said, "you look younger every time I see
+you."
+
+She swept him a great courtesy, making her dress balloon out about
+her; then she clasped her hands at her throat, her chin resting on the
+fluff of her white undersleeves, and looked up at him with a delighted
+laugh. "We are not very old, either of us; I am thirty-three and you
+are only forty-six--I call that young. Oh, Lloyd, I was so low-
+spirited this morning; and now--you are here!" She pirouetted about
+the room in a burst of gayety.
+
+As he watched her through half-shut eyes, the bored good humor in his
+face sharpened into something keener; he caught her hand as she
+whirled past, drawing her close to him with a murmured caress. She,
+pausing in her joy, looked at him with sudden intentness.
+
+"Have you heard anything of--_Frederick?_"
+
+At which he let her go again and answered curtly: "No; nothing.
+Perfectly well, the last I heard. In Paris, and enjoying himself in
+his own peculiar fashion."
+
+She drew in her breath and turned her face away; they were both
+silent. Then she said, dully, that she never heard any news. "Mr.
+Raynor sends me my accounts every three months, but he never says
+anything about--Frederick."
+
+"I suppose there isn't anything to say. Look here, Nelly, hasn't that
+stage-driver brought the hamper yet? When are we going to have
+something to eat?"
+
+"Oh, pretty soon," she said impatiently.
+
+They were standing at one of the long windows in the parlor; through
+the tilted slats of the Venetian blinds the April sunshine fell in
+pale bars across her hair and dress, across the old Turkey carpet on
+the floor, across the high white wainscoting and half-way up the
+landscape-papered walls. The room was full of cheerful dignity; the
+heavy, old-fashioned furniture of the Stuffed Animal House was
+unchanged, even the pictures, hanging rather near the ceiling, had not
+been removed--steel-engravings of Landseer's dogs, and old and very
+good colored prints of Audubon's birds. The mantel-piece of black
+marble veined with yellow was supported by fluted columns; on it were
+two blown-glass vases of decalcomania decoration, then two gilt
+lustres with prisms, then two hand-screens of woolwork, and in the
+middle an ormolu clock--"Iphigenia in Aulis"--under a glass shade. In
+the recess at one side of the fireplace was a tall bookcase with
+closed doors, but a claw-footed sofa stood out from the wall at an
+angle that prevented any access to the books. "I can't read Stuffed
+Animal books," Helena had long ago confided to Lloyd Pryor. "The
+British Classics, if you please! and Baxter's _Saint's Rest_, and
+_The Lady of the Manor_." So Mr. Pryor made a point of providing
+her with light literature. He pulled a paper-covered volume out of his
+pocket now, and handed it to her.
+
+"Not improving, Nelly, I assure you; and there is a box of candy in
+the hamper."
+
+She thanked him, but put the book down. "Talk to me, Lloyd. Tell me--
+everything! How are you? How is Alice? Are you very busy with politics
+and things? Talk to me."
+
+"Well," he said good naturedly, "where am I to begin? Yes: I'm very
+well. And very busy. And unusually poor. Isn't that interesting?"
+
+"Oh, Lloyd! Are you in earnest? Lloyd, you know I have a lot of money,
+and of course, if you want it, it is yours."
+
+He was lounging lazily on the sofa, and drew her down beside him,
+smiling at her through his curling lashes. "It isn't as bad as that.
+It is only that I have shouldered the debts of the old Pryor-Barr Co.,
+Limited. You know my grandfather organized it, and my father was
+president of it, and I served my 'prenticeship to business in it."
+
+"But I thought," she said, puzzled, "you went out of it long ago,
+before--before--"
+
+"The flood? Yes, my dear, I did. I've only been a silent partner for
+years--and that in a very small way. But I regret to say that the
+young asses who have been running it have got into trouble. And they
+propose going into bankruptcy, confound them! It is very annoying,"
+Lloyd Pryor ended calmly,
+
+"But I don't understand," she said; "what have you to do with it?"
+
+"Well, I've got to turn to and pay their damned debts."
+
+"Pay their debts? But why? Does the law make you?"
+
+"The law?" he said, looking at her with cold eyes. "I suppose you mean
+statute law? No, my dear, it doesn't."
+
+"Then I can't understand it," she declared laughing.
+
+"It's nothing very abstruse. I can't have stockholders who trusted our
+old firm cheated by a couple of cousins of mine. I've assumed the
+liabilities--that's all."
+
+"But you don't _have_ to, by law?" she persisted, still bewildered.
+
+"My dear Nelly, I don't do things because of the _law_," he said
+dryly. "But never mind; it is going to give me something to do. Tell
+me about yourself. How are you?"
+
+"I'm--pretty lonely, Lloyd," she said.
+
+And he answered, sympathetically, that he had been afraid of that.
+"You are too much by yourself. Of course, it's lonely for you. I am
+very much pleased with this idea of the little boy."
+
+She shook her head. "I can't take him."
+
+"Why not?" he protested, and broke off. "Nelly, look! You are going to
+have company."
+
+He had caught sight of some one fumbling with the latch of the green
+gate in the hedge. Helena opened her lips in consternation.
+
+"Lloyd! It's old Mr. Benjamin Wright. He lives in that big house with
+white columns on the top of the hill. Do you suppose he has come to
+_call_?"
+
+"Tell your woman to say you are out."
+
+But she shook her head, annoyed and helpless. "Don't you see how tired
+he is?--poor old man! Of course, he must come in. Go and help him,
+Lloyd." She put her hands on his arm. "Please!" she said.
+
+"No, thank you; I have no desire to help old gentlemen." And as she
+left him and ran impetuously to open the door herself, he called after
+her, "Nelly, don't have dinner held back!"
+
+Mr. Benjamin Wright stood, panting, at the foot of the porch steps; he
+could hardly lift his head to look up at the figure in the doorway.
+"You--Mrs. Richie?" he gasped.
+
+"Yes, sir," she said. "May I help you? These steps are so steep."
+
+"No," he snarled. "Do you think I'm so decrepit that I have to have a
+female help me up-stairs?" Then he began toiling up the steps. "My
+name is Wright. You know my grandson? Sam? Great fool! I've come to
+call on you." On the porch he drew a long breath, pulled off his mangy
+old beaver hat, and, with a very courtly bow, held out his hand.
+"Madam, permit me to pay my respects to you. I am your neighbor. In
+fact, your only neighbor; without me,
+
+  'Montium domina ut fores silvarumque virentium saltuumque reconditorum
+  amniumque sonantum.'
+
+Understand that? No? Good. I don't like learned females."
+
+She took his hand in a bewildered way, glancing back over her shoulder
+at Mr. Pryor, uncertain what she ought to do. Mr. Wright decided for
+her.
+
+"I know this house," he said, pushing past her into the dusky hall;
+"friend of mine used to live here. Ho! This is the parlor. Well; who's
+this?" He stood chewing orange-skin and blinking up at Lloyd Pryor,
+who came forward reluctantly.
+
+"My name is Pryor, sir, I--"
+
+"Oh! Yes. _I_ know. _I_ know. The lady's brother. Here! Push that
+chair out for me."
+
+And Mr. Lloyd Pryor found himself bringing a chair forward and taking
+the hat and stick from the trembling old hand. Helena had gone quickly
+into the dining-room, and came back with a decanter and glass on a
+little tray. She gave a distressed glance at her other guest as though
+to say, "I can't help it!"
+
+Benjamin Wright's old head in its brown wig was still shaking with
+fatigue, but under the prickle of white on his shaven jowl the
+purplish color came back in mottled streaks. He sipped the sherry
+breathlessly, the glass trembling in his veined and shrunken hand.
+"Well," he demanded, "how do you two like this God-forsaken place?"
+
+Mr. Pryor, looking over their visitor's head at Helena, shrugged his
+shoulders.
+
+"It is very nice," she said vaguely,
+
+"It's a narrowing place," he demurred, "very narrowing; sit down, sit
+down, good people! I'll take some more sherry. My grandson," he went
+on, as Helena filled his glass, "is always talking about you, madam.
+He's a great jackass. I'm afraid he bothers you with his calls?"
+
+"Oh, not at all," Helena said nervously. She sat down on the other
+side of the big rosewood centre-table, glancing with worried eyes at
+Lloyd Pryor.
+
+"Move that lamp contraption," commanded Mr. Wright. "I like to see my
+hostess!"
+
+And Helena pushed the astral lamp from the centre of the table so that
+his view was unobstructed.
+
+"Is he a nuisance with his talk about his drama?"
+
+Mr. Wright said, looking across at her with open eagerness in his
+melancholy eyes.
+
+"Why, no indeed."
+
+"Do you think it's so very bad, considering?"
+
+"It is not bad at all," said Mrs. Richie.
+
+His face lighted like a child's. "Young fool! As if he could write a
+drama! Well, madam, I came to ask you to do me the honor of taking
+supper with me to-morrow night, and then of listening to this
+wonderful production. Of course, sir, I include you. My nigger will
+provide you with a fairly good bottle. Then this grandson of mine will
+read his truck aloud. But we will fortify ourselves with supper
+first."
+
+His artless pride in planning this distressing festivity was so
+ludicrous that Lloyd Pryor's disgust changed into involuntary mirth.
+But Helena was plainly nervous. "Thank you; you are very kind; but I
+am afraid I must say no."
+
+Mr. Pryor was silently retreating towards the dining-room. As for the
+visitor, he only had eyes for the mistress of the house.
+
+"Why should you say no?"
+
+She tried to answer lightly. "Oh, I like to be quiet."
+
+"Quiet?" cried Benjamin Wright, rapping the table with his wine-glass.
+"At your age? Nonsense!" He paused, cleared his throat, and then
+sonorously:
+
+"'Can you endure the livery of a nun, For aye to be in shady cloister
+mew'd, To live a barren sister all your life, Chanting faint hymns to
+the cold, fruitless moon?' Give me some more sherry. Of course you
+must come. No use being shy--a pretty creatur' like you! And you said
+you liked the play," he added with childlike reproach.
+
+Helena, glad to change the subject, made haste to reassure him. "I do,
+I do!" she said, and for a few minutes she kept the old face beaming
+with her praise of Sam and his work. Unlike his grandson, Mr. Wright
+was not critical of her criticism. Nothing she could say seemed to him
+excessive. He contradicted every statement, but he believed it
+implicitly. Then with a sigh of satisfaction, he returned to his
+invitation. Helena shook her head decidedly.
+
+"No; thank you very much. Mr. Pryor couldn't possibly come. He is only
+here over Sunday, and--" She looked towards the dining-room for
+protection, but the door had been gently closed.
+
+"Hey?" Benjamin Wright said blankly. "Well, I won't insist; I won't
+insist. We'll wait till he goes. Come Monday night."
+
+"Oh," she said, her voice fluttering, "I am sorry but I really can't."
+
+"Why can't you?" he insisted. "Come, tell the truth! The advantage of
+telling the truth, young lady, is that neither God nor the devil can
+contradict you!" He laughed, eying her with high good humor.
+
+"Oh, it's merely--" she hesitated, and he looked affronted.
+
+"What! Some female airs about coming to an unmarried man's house?" Her
+involuntary mirth disarmed him. "No? Well, I'm glad you've got some
+sense. Then you'll come?"
+
+"If I went to your house, it would seem unfriendly not to go to other
+houses."
+
+"Why shouldn't you go to other houses? Done anything you're ashamed
+of?" He laughed uproariously at his own wit. "Come now; don't be
+finikin and ladylike!"
+
+"I don't make visits," she explained, the color rising angrily in her
+cheeks.
+
+"Gad-a-mercy! Why not?" he interrupted. "Do you think you're too good
+for us here in Old Chester?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Wright!"
+
+"Or perhaps Old Chester is too good for you?"
+
+His face had softened wonderfully; he was looking at her with the same
+quizzical delight with which he would look at one of his canaries when
+he caught it, and held it struggling in his hand. "Are we too good for
+you?" he jeered, "too--"
+
+He stopped abruptly, his laugh breaking off in the middle. Then his
+mouth fell slowly open in blank amazement; he leaned forward in his
+chair and stared at her without a word.
+
+"I don't care for society," she said, in a frightened way, and rose as
+if to bring the visit to an end.
+
+But Benjamin Wright sat still, slowly nodding his head. "You don't
+care for society? I wonder why."
+
+"Oh, because I am--a very quiet person," she stammered.
+
+The dining-room door opened and Sarah came in, looked about, found the
+decanter, and withdrew.
+
+"Where is--that gentleman?" the old man demanded.
+
+"Mr. Pryor went in to dinner," she said faintly. "Please excuse him;
+he was tired."
+
+The silence that fell between them was like a blow. ... Mr. Wright
+pulled himself to his feet, and with one shaking hand on the table
+felt his way around until he stood directly in front of her; he put
+his face close to hers and stared into her eyes, his lower lip opening
+and closing in silence. Then, without speaking, he began to grope
+about on the table for his hat and stick.
+
+"I will bid you good day," he said.
+
+Without another word he went shuffling out into the dark hall. At the
+front door he turned and looked back at her; then, slowly, shook his
+head.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+Poor Maggie paid for her good nature. On Sunday morning she was so
+decidedly worse that William King, to the disgust of his Martha, was
+summoned from his breakfast-table.
+
+"Women who can't look after a simple sore throat without bothering
+their doctors are pretty inefficient creatures," she said coldly.
+
+William thought of women who were so efficient that they did not
+hesitate to advise their doctors; but he only agreed with proper
+seriousness to Martha's declaration that it was too bad, for he would
+be late for church--"unless you hurry, William!" she called after him.
+
+Perhaps he hurried when he was with Maggie, but certainly he displayed
+no haste when giving his directions to Mrs. Richie, nor even later
+when just as he was about to drive off, Mr. Pryor hailed him from the
+garden.
+
+"How's your patient, doctor?"
+
+"Pretty sick. She didn't obey your sister's orders and keep in bed
+yesterday. So, of course, she's worse to-day."
+
+Mr. Pryor leaned a comfortable elbow on the green gate. "That's a nice
+prospect! What am I going to have to eat?" he said, good-humoredly.
+
+Yet behind the good humor there was annoyance. It came into William
+King's mind that this fellow would not spare his sister his
+irritation, and with a sudden impulse of concern for her, he said,
+"Well now, look here, why don't you and Mrs. Richie come in this
+evening and take tea with us? I don't know what you'll get, but come
+and take pot-luck."
+
+"Thank you," Lloyd Pryor said, "but--"
+
+"Oh, come now," interrupted the doctor, gathering up his reins; "you
+good people are not neighborly enough. We'll expect you both at six."
+
+"You are very kind, but I think--" But William would not listen. He
+was in great spirits. "It will be pot-luck, and my wife will be
+delighted--" then, his voice dragged--"I hope you'll come," he said
+uncertainly.
+
+Mr. Pryor began to protest, but ended with a laugh. "Well, we'll come!
+Thank you very much."
+
+"That's good," the doctor said a little less cordially, indeed, as he
+drove away he looked distinctly less cordial, and once he sighed....
+Now, how should he put it? "Oh, Martha, by the way, Mr. Pryor and his
+sister will drop in to tea to-night. I suggested it, and--" No, that
+would not do.... "Martha, it occurred to me it would be neighborly--"
+No. "Confound it," William King muttered to himself, "what did I do it
+for, anyhow? 'Martha, my dear, I know you like to do a kindness, so I
+asked Mrs. Richie and her brother'"--that was better. "But I hate a
+circumbendibus!" William said, irritably, to himself. Then he drew a
+long breath, and set his lips as a man may who is about to face the
+domestic cannon's mouth.
+
+After he had driven on, screwing up his courage, it appeared that Mr.
+Pryor also had a cannon to face. Helena Richie came out into the
+garden, and found. him sitting on a bench built round a great silver
+poplar. Her face was worried. "I ought not to have made poor Maggie
+get up yesterday," she said, "but I was so distressed not to have a
+good dinner for you."
+
+"Well, at least you need have no anxieties about supper; we've had an
+invitation,"
+
+"An invitation! From Dr, King? Well, that's very nice in him. But, of
+course--"
+
+"I told him we would come"
+
+"You told him we would come!"
+
+"I couldn't help it, Nelly. People who invite you face to face are
+perfect nuisances. But, really, it's no great matter--for once, And I
+knew it would be a convenience for you. Besides, I wanted a good
+supper."
+
+"Well, we must make some excuse."
+
+"There isn't any excuse to make," he explained, good-naturedly: "I
+tried to find one and couldn't. We've got to go."
+
+"_I_ sha'n't go."
+
+He looked at her from under his heavy eyelids; then blew two smoke
+wreaths slowly. "You're a queer creature."
+
+She turned on him hotly. "Queer? Because I won't go out to supper with
+you? I'd be queer if I did! I'm entirely satisfied with myself, Lloyd;
+I consider that I have a perfect right to be happy in my own way. You
+know I don't care a copper for what you call 'morality'! it's nothing
+but cowardly conventionality. But I won't go out to supper with you."
+
+"Please don't let us have a tirade," he said "I thought it would be
+more convenient for you. That's always the way with your sex, Helena,
+you do a thing to help them out, and they burst into tears."
+
+"I haven't burst into tears," she said sullenly, "but I won't go."
+
+"Come, now! don't be a goose. I wouldn't make a practice of accepting
+their invitations; but for once, what does it matter?"
+
+"Can't you understand?" she said passionately; "_they are kind to
+me!_"
+
+She turned quickly and ran into the garden, leaving him to call after
+her: "Well, you've got to go to-night, because I've accepted."
+
+"I won't go to-night!" she flung back, her voice breaking.
+
+Lloyd Pryor shook his head. "And she wonders I don't come oftener," he
+said to himself.
+
+So the sleepy Sunday morning passed. Mr. Pryor roamed about the
+garden, looking furtively over his shoulder now and then--but Helena
+had disappeared. "Sulking in her room, I suppose," he thought.
+
+He had come at some inconvenience, to spend Sunday and talk over this
+project of the child, "for I'd like to see her happier," he told
+himself; and now, instead of sitting down, sensibly, to discuss
+things, she flared out over this invitation to supper. Her intensity
+fatigued him. "I must be getting old," he ruminated, "and Helena will
+always be the age she was ten years ago. Ten? It's thirteen! How time
+flies; she was twenty. How interested I was in Frederick's health in
+those days!"
+
+He stretched himself out on the bench under the poplar, and lit
+another cigar. "If _I'm_ willing to go, why is she so exercised?
+Women are all alike--except Alice." He smiled as he thought of his
+girl, and instantly the hardness in his face lifted, as a cloud shadow
+lifts and leaves sunshine behind it. Then some obscure sense of
+fitness made him pull himself together, and put his mind on affairs
+that had nothing in common with Helena; affairs in which he could
+include his girl without offending his taste.
+
+After a while he got up and wandered about between the borders, where
+the clean, bitter scent of daffodils mingled with the box. Once he
+stood still, looking down over the orchard on the hill-side below him,
+at the bright sheen of the river edged with leafless maples; on its
+farther side were the meadows, and then the hills, smoky in their warm
+haze. Over all was the pale April sky with skeins of gray cloud in the
+west. He wondered what Alice was doing at this moment, and looked at
+his watch. She must be just coming back from church. When he was at
+home Mr. Pryor went to church himself, and watched her saying her
+little prayers. This assumption of the Pryor-Barr liabilities would be
+a serious check to the fortune he was building up for her; he set his
+jaw angrily at the thought, but of course it couldn't be helped.
+Furthermore, Alice took great pride in the almost quixotic sense of
+honor that had prompted the step; a pride which gave him a secret
+satisfaction, quite fatuous and childlike and entirely out of keeping
+with certain other characteristics, also secret.
+
+There was a gleam of humor in his eyes, as he said to himself that he
+hoped Alice would not ask him how he had spent his Sunday morning.
+Alice had such a feeling about truth, that he did not like to tell her
+even little lies, little ones that she could not possibly find out. It
+was the sentiment of fibbing to his girl that offended him, not the
+fib; for Mr. Lloyd Pryor had no doubt that, in certain matters, Truth
+must be governed by the law of benefit.
+
+Thinking of his daughter, and smiling to himself, he lounged aimlessly
+about the garden; then it occurred to him to go into the stable and
+look at Helena's pony. After that he strolled over to the carriage-
+house where were stored a number of cases containing stuffed
+creatures--birds and chipmunks and small furry things. Some larger
+animals were slung up under the beams of the loft to get them out of
+the way; there was a bear in one corner, and a great crocodile, and a
+shark; possessions of the previous owner of the Stuffed Animal House,
+stored here by her executor, pending the final settlement of the
+estate.
+
+Lloyd Pryor stood at the doorway looking in. Through a grimed and
+cobwebbed window at the farther end of the room the light filtered
+down among the still figures; there was the smell of dead fur and
+feathers, and of some acrid preservative. One box had been broken in
+moving it from the house, and a beaver had slipped from his carefully
+bitten branch, and lay on the dusty boards, a burst of cotton pushing
+through the splitting belly-seam. Lloyd Pryor thrust it into its case
+with his stick, and started as he did so. Something moved, back in the
+dusk.
+
+"It's I, Lloyd," Helena Richie said.
+
+"You? My dear Nelly! Why are you sitting in this gloomy place?"
+
+She smiled faintly, but her face was weary with tears. "Oh, I just--
+came in here," she said vaguely.
+
+She had said to herself when, angry and wounded, she left him in the
+garden, that if she went back to the house he would find her. So she
+had come here to the dust and silence of the carriage-house, and
+sitting down on one of the cases had hidden her face in her hands.
+Little by little anger ebbed. Just misery remained. But still she sat
+there, looking absently at these dead creatures about her, or at a
+thin line of sunshine falling through a heart-shaped opening in a
+shutter, and moving noiselessly across the floor. A mote dipped into
+this stream of light, zigzagged through it, then sank into the
+darkness. She followed it with dull eyes, thinking, if she thought at
+all, that she wished she did not have to sit opposite Lloyd at dinner.
+But, of course, she would have to, the servants would think it strange
+if she did not come to table with him. Suddenly the finger of sunshine
+vanished, and all the motes were gone. Raising her head with a long
+sigh she saw him in the doorway, his tall figure black against the
+smiling spring landscape outside. Her heart came up into her throat
+with a rush of delight. He was looking for her! Ah, this was the way
+it had been in those first days, when he could not bear to let her out
+of his sight!
+
+He put his arm around her with careless friendliness and helped her to
+her feet. "What a place this will be for your boy to play. He can be
+cast away on a desert island and surrounded by wild animals every day
+in the week." His voice was so kind that her anger of two hours ago
+seemed impossible--a mistake, a misunderstanding! She tried in a
+bewildered way to get back to it in her own mind, but he was so matter
+of fact about the stuffed animals and the little boy and the desert
+island, that she could only say vaguely, "Yes, it would be nice, but
+of course I'm not going to take him."
+
+"Well now, that's just what I want to talk to you about," he said,
+watching her through his long, curling eyelashes. "That's why I came
+down to Old Chester--"
+
+"Oh, is it?"
+
+He checked an impatient exclamation, and then went on: "When I got
+your letter about this boy, I was really delighted.--Let's go out into
+the sunshine; the smell of this place is very disagreeable.--I think
+you would find the child company; I really hope you will take him."
+His voice was sincere and she softened.
+
+"It's kind of you, Lloyd, to urge it. But no, it won't do."
+
+"My dear, of course it will do. You'll give him a good home, and--"
+
+"No, no, I can't; you know I can't."
+
+"My dear Nelly! What possible harm could you do the child?"
+
+She drew away from him sharply. "_I_ do him any harm! I! Oh--you
+wouldn't have said such a thing, once!" She pressed the back of her
+hand against her lips, and Lloyd Pryor studiously looked in another
+direction.
+
+"What have I said? That you wouldn't do him any harm? Is there
+anything unkind in that? Look here, Nell, you really mustn't be so
+unreasonable. There is nothing a man hates so much as a fool. I am
+merely urging something for your pleasure. He would be company for
+you; I thought him quite an attractive youngster."
+
+"And you wouldn't have me so much on your mind? You wouldn't feel you
+had to come and see me so often!"
+
+"Well, if you want to put it that way," he said coldly. "I'm a very
+busy man. I can't get off whenever I feel like it."
+
+"And you can't leave your beloved Alice."
+
+He shot a blue gleam at her from under his heavy eyelids. "No; I
+can't."
+
+She quivered. But he went on quietly: "I know you're lonely, Helena,
+and as I can't come and see you quite so often as I used to, I want
+you to take this little fellow, simply to amuse you."
+
+She walked beside him silently. When they reached the bench under the
+poplar, she sat looking into the April distance without speaking. She
+was saying to herself, miserably, that she didn't want the child; she
+didn't want to lessen any sense of obligation that brought him to
+her;--and yet, she did not want him to come from a sense of
+obligation!
+
+"You would get great fun out of him, Nelly," he insisted.
+
+And looking up, she saw the kindness of his face and yielded. "Well,
+perhaps I will; that is, if Dr. Lavendar will let me have him. I'm
+afraid of Dr. Lavendar somehow."
+
+"Good!" he said heartily; "that's a real weight off my mind." Her lip
+curled again, but she said nothing. Lloyd Pryor yawned; then he asked
+her whether she meant to buy the house.
+
+"I don't know; sometimes I think there is less seclusion in the
+country than there is in town." She drew down a twig, and began to
+pull at the buds with aimless fingers. "I might like to come to
+Philadelphia and live near you, you know," she said. The sudden malice
+in her eyes was answered by the shock in his; his voice was disturbed
+when he spoke, though his words were commonplace:
+
+"It's a pleasant enough house."
+
+Then he looked at his watch, opening the case under the shelter of his
+hand--but she saw the photograph in the lid.
+
+"Is that a good picture of Alice?" she said with an effort.
+
+"Yes," he answered, hastily snapping the lid shut. "Helena, what are
+we going to have for dinner?"
+
+"Oh, nothing very much, I'm afraid," she told him ruefully. Then
+rising, she held out her hand. "Come! We mustn't quarrel again. I
+don't know why we always squabble!"
+
+"I'm sure I don't want to," he said. "Nelly, you are prettier every
+time I see you." He put a finger into one of the loose curls in the
+nape of her neck, and she looked up at him, her lip trembling.
+
+"And do you love me?"
+
+"Of course I do!" he declared, slipping his arm around her waist. And
+they walked thus between the box borders, back to the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+But she would not go to the Kings' to tea. "No," she said, her eyes
+crinkling with fun, "I'm not going; but you've got to; you promised!
+And remember, I have 'a very severe headache.'"
+
+He laughed, with a droll look, and then explained that at home he was
+never allowed to tell tarradiddles. "Alice has a perfect mania about
+truth," he said ruefully; "it is sometimes very inconvenient. Yes;
+I'll enlarge upon your headache, my dear. But why in thunder did I say
+yes to that confounded doctor? I'd like to wring your cook's neck,
+Nelly!"
+
+"You'll have a good supper," she consoled him, "and that's what you
+want. They say Mrs. King is a great housekeeper. And besides, if you
+stayed at home you would probably have to entertain Mr. Sam Wright."
+
+"I'll be darned if I would," he assured her, amiably, and started off.
+
+He had the good supper, although when the doctor broke to his wife
+that company was coming, Mrs. King had protested that there was
+nothing in the house to eat. "And there's one thing about me, I may
+not be perfect, but I am hospitable, and--"
+
+"Just give them what we were going to have ourselves."
+
+"Now, William! I must say, flatly and frankly--"
+
+"There's the office bell," murmured the doctor, sidling away and
+hearing the reproachful voice lessening in the distance--"how hard I
+try--nothing fit--"
+
+The office door closed; the worst was over. There would be a good
+supper--William had no misgivings on that point. Mrs. Richie would
+talk to him, and he would tease her and make her laugh, and laugh
+himself. The doctor did not laugh very much in his own house; domestic
+virtue does not necessarily add to the gayety of life. During the
+afternoon Willy tried on three different neckties, and twice put
+cologne on his handkerchief. Then appeared Mr. Pryor to say that Mrs.
+Richie had one of her headaches! He was so sorry, but Mrs. King knew
+what a bad headache was?
+
+"Indeed I do," Martha said, "only too well. But _I_ can't give way to
+them. That's what it is to be a doctor's wife; the patients get all
+the prescriptions," Martha said; and William, out of the corner of
+his eye, saw that she was smiling! Well, well; evidently Mrs. Richie's
+defection did not trouble her; the doctor was glad of that. "But I
+didn't bargain on entertaining the brother," he said to himself
+crossly; and after the manner of husbands, he left the entertaining to
+Martha.
+
+Martha, however, did her duty. She thought Mr. Pryor a very agreeable
+gentleman; "far more agreeable than his sister," she told William
+afterwards. "I don't know why," said Martha, "but I sort of distrust
+that woman. But the brother is all right; you can see that--and a very
+intelligent man, too. We discussed a good many points, and I found we
+agreed perfectly."
+
+Mr. Pryor also had an opinion on that supper-table talk. He said to
+himself grimly, that Nelly's bread and jam would have been better. But
+probably bread and jam, followed by young Sam Wright, would have
+seemed less desirable than Mrs. King's excellent supper.
+
+It was about seven when the boy appeared at the Stuffed Animal House.
+Had Mr. Pryor been at home, Helena would, no doubt, have found some
+way of dismissing him; as it was, she let him stay. He was bareheaded;
+he had seen a bird flapping painfully about in the road, and catching
+it in gentle hands had discovered that its wing was broken, so put it
+tenderly in his cap and brought it to Mrs. Richie's door.
+
+"Poor little thing!" she cried, when he showed it to her. "I wish Mr.
+Pryor would come back; he would tell us what to do for it."
+
+"Oh, is he here?" Sam asked blankly.
+
+"Well, not at this moment. He has gone to take tea at Dr. King's."
+Sam's face lightened with relief.
+
+"You mustn't tell anybody you saw me this evening," she charged him
+gayly. "I didn't go to Mrs. King's because--I had such a very bad
+headache!"
+
+"Is it better?" he asked, so anxiously that she blushed.
+
+"Oh, yes, yes. But before tea I--didn't want to go."
+
+"I'm glad you didn't," he said, and forgot her in caring for the bird.
+He ordered a box and some cotton batting--"and give me your
+handkerchief." As he spoke, he took it from her surprised hand and
+tore it into strips; then, lifting the broken wing with exquisite
+gentleness, he bound it into place. She looked at the bandages
+ruefully, but Sam was perfectly matter-of-course. "It would have been
+better without lace," he said; "but it will do. Will you look at him
+sometimes? Just your touch will cure him, I think."
+
+Mrs. Richie laughed.
+
+"Well, you can laugh, but it's true. When I am near you I have no pain
+and no worry; nothing but happiness." He sat down beside her on the
+old claw-footed sofa near the fire, for it was cool enough these
+spring evenings to have a little fire. He leaned forward, resting his
+chin on his fist, and staring into the blaze. Once he put his hand out
+and touched her dress softly, and smiled to himself. Then abruptly, he
+came out of his reverie, and spoke with joyous excitement:
+
+"Why! I forgot what I came to tell you about--something extraordinary
+has happened!"
+
+"Oh, what?" she demanded, with a sweet eagerness that was as young as
+his own.
+
+"You could never guess," he assured her. "Tonight, at supper,
+grandfather suddenly told me that he wanted me to travel for a while--
+he wanted me to go away from Old Chester. I was perfectly amazed. 'Go
+hunt up a publisher for your truck,' he said. He always calls the
+drama my 'truck,'" Sam said snickering; "but the main thing,
+evidently, was to have me get away from home. To improve my mind, I
+suppose. He said all gentlemen ought to travel. To live in one place
+all the time was very narrowing, he said. I told him I hadn't any
+money, and he said he'd give me some. He said, 'anything to get you
+away.' It wasn't very flattering, was it?"
+
+Helena's face flashed into suspicion. "Why did he want to get you
+away?" she asked coldly. There was an alarmed alertness in her voice
+that made the boy look at her.
+
+"He said he wanted me to 'be able to know cakes and ale when I saw
+them,'" Sam quoted. "Isn't that just like grandfather?"
+
+"Know cakes and ale!" she stammered, and then looked at him furtively.
+She took one of the little hand-screens from the mantel, and held it
+so that he could not see her face. For a minute the pleasant firelit
+silence fell between them.
+
+"Oh, listen," Sam said in a whisper; "do you hear the sap singing in
+the log?" He bent forward with parted lips, intent upon the exquisite
+sound--a dream of summer leaves rustling and blowing in the wind. He
+turned his limpid stag's eyes to hers to feel her pleasure.
+
+"I think," Mrs. Richie said with an effort that made her voice hard,
+"that it would be an excellent thing for you to go away."
+
+"And leave you?"
+
+"Please don't talk that way. Your grandfather is quite right."
+
+The boy smiled. "I suppose you really can't understand? It's part of
+your loveliness that you can't. If you could, you would know that I
+can't go away. I told him I was much obliged, but I couldn't leave Old
+Chester."
+
+"Oh, please! you mustn't be foolish. I don't like you when you are
+foolish. Will you please remember how much older I am than you? Let's
+talk of something else. Let's talk about the little boy who is coming
+to visit me--his name is David."
+
+"I would rather talk about you, and what you mean to me--beauty and
+poetry and good--"
+
+"Don't!" she said sharply,
+
+"Beauty and poetry and goodness."
+
+"I'm not beautiful, and I'm not--poetical."
+
+"And so I worship you," the young man went on in a low happy voice.
+
+"Do please be quiet! I won't be worshipped."
+
+"I don't see how you are going to help it," he said calmly. "Mrs.
+Richie, I've got my skiff; it came yesterday. Will you go out on the
+river with me some afternoon?"
+
+"Oh, I don't think I care about boating," she said.
+
+"You don't!" he exclaimed blankly; "why, I only got it because I
+thought you would go out with me!"
+
+"I don't like the water," she said firmly.
+
+Sam was silent; then he sighed. "I wish I'd asked you before I bought
+it. Father is so unreasonable."
+
+She looked puzzled, for the connection was not obvious.
+
+"Father always wants things used," Sam explained. "Do you really
+dislike boating?"
+
+"You absurd boy!" she said laughing; "of course you will use it; don't
+talk nonsense!"
+
+Sam looked into the fire. "Do you ever have the feeling," he said in
+an empty voice, "that nothing is worth while? I mean, if you are
+disappointed in anything? A feeling as if you didn't care, at all,
+about anything? I have it often. A sort of loss of appetite in my
+mind. Do you know it?"
+
+"Do I know it?" she said, and laughed so harshly that the boy drew
+back. "Yes, Sam; I know it."
+
+Sam sighed; "I hate that skiff."
+
+And at that she laughed again, but this time with pure gayety. "Oh,
+you foolish boy!" she said. Then she glanced at the clock. "Sam, I
+have some letters to write to-night--will you think I am very
+ungracious if I ask you to excuse me?" Sam was instantly apologetic.
+"I've stayed too long! Grandfather told me I ought never to come and
+see you--"
+
+"_What!_"
+
+"He said I bothered you."
+
+"You don't bother me," she protested; "I mean, when you talk about
+your play you don't bother me. But to-night--"
+
+"Of course," said Sam simply, and took himself off after one or two
+directions about the bird.
+
+When the front door closed behind him she went back to her seat by the
+lamp, and took up her novel; but her eyes did not see the printed
+page. Suddenly she threw the book down on the table. It was impossible
+to read; Sam's talk had disturbed her to the point of sharp
+discomfort. What did old Mr. Wright mean by "knowing cakes and ale"?
+And his leer yesterday had been an offence! Why had he looked at her
+like that? Did he--? Was it possible--! She wished she had spoken to
+Lloyd about it. But no; it couldn't be; it was only his queer way; he
+was half crazy, she believed. And it would do no good to speak to
+Lloyd. The one thing she must not do, was to let any annoyance of hers
+annoy him. Yet below her discomfort at Sam's sentimentality and his
+grandfather's strange manner lay a deeper discomfort--a disturbance at
+the very centres of her life.... _She was afraid._
+
+She had been afraid for a long time. Even before she came to Old
+Chester she was a little afraid, but in Old Chester the fear was
+intensified by the consciousness of having made a mistake in coming.
+Old Chester was so far away. It had seemed desirable when she first
+thought of it; it was so near Mercer where business very often called
+him. Besides, New York, with its throngs of people, where she had
+lived for several years, had grown intolerable; in Old Chester she and
+Lloyd had agreed she would have so much more privacy. But how
+differently things had turned out! He did not have to come to Mercer
+nearly so often as he had expected. Those visions of hers--which he
+had not discouraged--of weekly or certainly fortnightly visits, had
+faded into lengthening periods of three weeks, four weeks--the last
+one was more than six weeks ago. "He can't leave his Alice!" she said
+angrily to herself; "_I_ remember the time when he did not mind
+leaving her." As for privacy, the great city, with its hurrying
+indifferent crowds, was more private than this village of insistent
+friendliness.
+
+She leaned back in her chair and pressed her hands over her eyes; then
+sat up quickly--she must not cry! Lloyd hated red eyes. But oh, she
+was afraid!--afraid of what? She had no answer; as yet her fear was
+without a name. She picked up her book, hurriedly; "I'll read," she
+said to herself; "I won't think!" But for a long time she did not turn
+a page.
+
+However, by the time Mr. Pryor came back from the tea-party she was
+outwardly tranquil, and looked up from her novel to welcome him and
+laugh at his stories of his hostess. But he was instant to detect the
+troubled background of her thoughts.
+
+"You are lonely," he said, lounging on the sofa beside her; "when that
+little boy comes you'll have something to amuse you;" he put a
+caressing finger under her soft chin.
+
+"I didn't have that little boy, but I had another," she said ruefully.
+
+"Did your admirer call?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"What!" he exclaimed, for her manner told him.
+
+"He tried to be silly," she said. "Of course I snubbed him. But it
+makes me horribly uncomfortable somehow."
+
+Lloyd Pryor got up and slowly scratched a match under the mantel-
+piece; he took a long time to light his cigar. Then he put his hands
+in his pockets, and standing with his back to the fire regarded his
+boots. Helena was staring straight ahead of her with melancholy
+eyes.--("Do you ever have the feeling," the boy had said, "that
+nothing is worth while?")
+
+Lloyd Pryor looked at her furtively and coughed. "I suppose," he
+said--and knocked the ashes from his cigar with elaborate
+care--"I suppose your adorer is a good deal younger than you?"
+
+She lifted her head sharply, "Well, yes;--what of it?"
+
+"Oh, nothing; nothing at all. In the first place, the health of our
+friend, Frederick, is excellent. But if this fellow were not younger;
+and if apoplexy or judgment should--well; why, perhaps--"
+
+"Perhaps what?"
+
+"Of course, Helena, my great desire is for your happiness; but in my
+position I--I am not as free as I once was to follow my own
+inclinations. And if--"
+
+"Oh, my _God!_" she said violently.
+
+She fled out of the room with flying feet. As he followed her up the
+stairs he heard her door slam viciously and the bolt slip. He came
+down, his face flushed and angry. He stood a long while with his back
+to the fire, staring at the lamp or the darkness of the uncurtained
+window. By and by he shook his head and set his jaw in sullen
+determination; then he went up-stairs and knocked softly at her door.
+There was no answer. Again, a little louder; silence.
+
+"Nelly," he said; "Nelly, let me speak to you--just a minute?"
+
+Silence.
+
+"Nelly!"
+
+Silence.
+
+"Damn!" said Lloyd Pryor, and went stealthily back to the parlor where
+the fire was out and the lamp flickering into smoky darkness.
+
+A quarter of an hour later he went up-stairs again.
+
+"How _could_ you say it!" "I didn't mean it, Nelly; it was only a
+joke." "A joke! Oh, a cruel joke, a cruel joke!" "You know I didn't
+mean it. Nelly dearest, I didn't mean it!" "You do love me?" "I love
+you.... Kiss me...."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+"Well, now," said Dr. Lavendar that Sunday evening when he and David
+came into the study after tea; "I suppose you'd like me to tell you a
+story before you go to bed?"
+
+"A Bible story?"
+
+"Why, yes," Dr. Lavendar admitted, a little taken aback.
+
+"No, sir," said David.
+
+"You don't want a Bible story!"
+
+The little boy shook his head.
+
+"David," said Dr. Lavendar chuckling, "I think I like you."
+
+David made no response; his face was as blank as an Indian's. He sat
+down on a stool by the fire, and once he sighed. Danny had sniffed
+him, slowly, and turned away with a bored look; it was then that he
+sighed. After a while he got up and wandered about the room, his hands
+gripped in front of him, his lips shut tight. Dr. Lavendar watched him
+out of the tail of his eye, but neither of them spoke. Suddenly David
+climbed up on a chair and looked fixedly at a picture that hung
+between the windows.
+
+"That is a Bible picture," Dr. Lavendar observed.
+
+"Who," said David, "is the gentleman in the water?"
+
+Dr. Lavendar blew his nose before answering. Then he said that that
+was meant to be our Saviour when He was being baptized. "Up in the
+sky," Dr. Lavendar added, "is His Heavenly Father."
+
+There was silence until David asked gently, "Is it a good photograph
+of God?"
+
+Dr. Lavendar puffed three times at his pipe; then he said, "If you
+think the picture looks like a kind Father, then it is. And David, I
+know some stories that are not Bible stories. Shall I tell you one?"
+
+"If you want to, sir," David said. Dr. Lavendar began his tale rather
+doubtfully; but David fixed such interested eyes upon his face that he
+was flattered into enlarging upon his theme. The child listened
+breathlessly, his fascinated eyes travelling once or twice to the
+clock, then back to the kind old face.
+
+"You were afraid bedtime would interrupt us?" said Dr. Lavendar, when
+the tale was done. "Well, well; you are a great boy for stories,
+aren't you?"
+
+"You've talked seven minutes," said David, thoughtfully, "and you've
+not moved your upper jaw once."
+
+Dr. Lavendar gasped; then he said, meekly, "Did you like the story?"
+
+David made no reply,
+
+"I think," said Dr Lavendar, "I'll have another pipe."
+
+He gave up trying to make conversation; instead, he watched the clock.
+Mary had said that David must go to bed at eight, and as the clock
+began to strike, Dr. Lavendar, with some eagerness, opened his lips to
+say good night--and closed them. "Guess he'd rather run his own rig,"
+he thought. But to his relief, at the last stroke David got up.
+
+"It's my bedtime, sir."
+
+"So it is! Well, it will be mine after a while. Good night, my boy!"
+Dr. Lavendar blinked nervously. Young persons were generally kissed.
+"I should not wish to be kissed," he said to himself, and the two
+shook hands gravely.
+
+Left alone, he felt so fatigued he had to have that other pipe. Before
+he had finished it his senior warden looked in at the study door.
+
+"Come in, Samuel," said Dr. Lavendar. "Samuel, I feel as if I had
+driven ten miles on a corduroy road!"
+
+Mr. Wright looked blank; sometimes he found it hard to follow Dr.
+Lavendar.
+
+"Sam, young persons are very exciting."
+
+"Some of them are, I can vouch for that," his caller assured him
+grimly.
+
+"Come, come! They are good for us," said Dr. Lavendar. "I wish you'd
+take a pipe, Sam; it would cheer you up."
+
+"I never smoke, sir," said Samuel reprovingly, "Well, you miss a lot
+of comfort in life. I've seen a good many troubles go up in smoke."
+
+Mr. Wright sat down heavily and sighed.
+
+"Sam been giving you something to think about?" Dr. Lavendar asked
+cheerfully.
+
+"He always gives me something to think about. He is beyond my
+comprehension! I may say candidly, that I cannot understand him. What
+do you think he has done now?"
+
+"Nothing wicked."
+
+"I don't know how you look at it," Samuel said, "but from my point of
+view, buying prints with other people's money is dangerously near
+wickedness. This present matter, however, is just imbecility. I told
+him one day last week to write to a man in Troy, New York, about a
+bill of exchange. Well, he wrote. Oh, yes--he wrote. Back comes a
+letter from the man, enclosing my young gentleman's epistle, with a
+line added "--Mr. Wright fumbled in his breast pocket to find the
+document--" here it is: _'Above remarks about ships not understood
+by our House.'_ Will you look at that, sir, for the 'remarks about
+ships'?"
+
+Dr. Lavendar took the sheet stamped "Bank of Pennsylvania," and hunted
+for his spectacles. When he settled them on his nose he turned the
+letter over and read in young Sam's sprawling hand:
+
+"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships, And burnt the
+topless towers of Ilium?"
+
+"What's this? I don't understand."
+
+"Certainly you do not; no sensible person would. I showed it to my
+young gentleman, and requested an explanation. 'Oh,' he said, 'when
+you told me to write to Troy, it made me think of those lines.' He
+added that not wishing to forget them, he wrote them down on a sheet
+of paper, and that probably he used the other side of the sheet for
+the Troy letter--'by mistake.' 'Mistake, sir!' I said, 'a sufficient
+number of _mistakes_ will send me out of business.'"
+
+"Samuel," said Dr. Lavendar thoughtfully, "do you recall whose face it
+was that 'launched the thousand ships' on Troy?"
+
+Samuel shook his head,
+
+"Helen's" said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+The senior warden frowned, then suddenly understood. "Oh, yes, I know
+all about that. Another evidence of his folly!"
+
+"I've no doubt you feel like spanking him," Dr. Lavendar said
+sympathetically, "but--" he stopped short. Sam Wright was crimson.
+
+"I! _Spank_ him? I?" He got up, opening and shutting his hands,
+his face very red. The old minister looked at him in consternation.
+
+"Sam! what on earth is the matter with you? Can't a man have his
+joke?"
+
+Mr. Wright sat down. He put his hand to his mouth as though to hide
+some trembling betrayal; his very ears were purple.
+
+Dr. Lavendar apologized profusely. "I was only in fun. I'm sure you
+know that I meant no disrespect to the boy. I only wanted to cheer you
+up."
+
+"I understand, sir; it is of no consequence. I--I had something else
+on my mind. It is of no consequence." The color faded, and his face
+fell into its usual bleak lines, but his mouth twitched. A minute
+afterwards he began to speak with ponderous dignity. "This love-making
+business is, of course, most mortifying to me; and also, no doubt,
+annoying to Mrs. Richie. To begin with, she is eleven years older than
+he--he told his mother so. He added, if you please! that he hoped to
+marry her."
+
+"Well! Well!" said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"I told him," Mr. Wright continued, "that in my very humble opinion it
+was contemptible for a man to marry and allow another man to support
+his wife."
+
+Dr. Lavendar sat up in shocked dismay. "Samuel!"
+
+"I, sir," the banker explained, "am his father, and I support him. If
+he marries, I shall have to support his wife. According to my poor
+theories of propriety, a man who lets another man support his wife had
+better not have one."
+
+"But you ought not to have put it that way," Dr. Lavendar protested,
+
+"I merely put the fact," said Samuel Wright "Furthermore, unless he
+stops dangling at her apron-strings, I shall stop his allowance, I
+shall so inform him."
+
+"You surely won't do such a foolish thing!"
+
+"Would you have me sit still? Not put up a single barrier to keep him
+in bounds?"
+
+"Samuel, do you know what barriers mean to a colt?"
+
+Mr. Wright made no response.
+
+"They mean something to jump over."
+
+"Possibly," said Mr. Wright with dignity, "you are, to some extent,
+correct. But a man cannot permit his only son to run wild and
+founder."
+
+"Sam won't founder. But he may get a bad strain. You'd better look
+out. He is his father's son."
+
+"I do not know, sir, to what you refer."
+
+"Oh, yes, you do," Dr. Lavendar assured him easily; "and you know that
+no man can experience unforgiving anger, and not be crippled. You
+didn't founder, Sam, but you gave yourself a mighty ugly wrench. Hey?
+Isn't that so?"
+
+The senior warden looked perfectly deaf; then he took up the tale
+again.
+
+"If he goes on in his folly he will only be unhappy, and deservedly
+so. She will have nothing to do with him. In stopping him, I shall
+only be keeping him from future unhappiness."
+
+"Samuel," said Dr. Lavendar, "I never begrudge unhappiness to the
+young."
+
+But Mr., Wright was too absorbed in his own troubles to get any
+comfort out of that.
+
+"By the way," said Dr. Lavendar, "speaking of Mrs. Richie--do you
+think she'd be a good person to take this little David Allison?"
+
+"I don't know why she shouldn't be, sir," Samuel said. "I have no
+fault to find with _her_. She pays her rent and goes to church. Yes; a
+very good person to take the boy off your hands."
+
+"The rent is important," Dr, Lavendar agreed nodding; "but going to
+church doesn't prove anything."
+
+"All good people go to church," the senior warden reproved him.
+
+"But all people who go to church are not good," Dr. Lavendar said
+dryly,
+
+"I am afraid she lets Sam talk poetry to her," Sam's father broke out.
+"Stuff! absolute stuff! His mother sometimes tells me of it. Why," he
+ended piteously, "half the time I can't understand what it's about;
+it's just bosh!"
+
+"What you don't understand generally _is_ bosh, isn't it, Sam?"
+said Dr. Lavendar thoughtfully.
+
+"I am a man of plain common sense, sir; I don't pretend to anything
+but common sense."
+
+"I know you don't, Samuel, I know you don't," Dr. Lavendar said sadly;
+and the banker, mollified, accepted the apology.
+
+"On top of everything else, he's been writing a drama. He told his
+mother so. Writing a drama, instead of writing up his ledgers!"
+
+"Of course, he ought not to neglect his work," Dr. Lavendar agreed;
+"but play-writing isn't one of the seven deadly sins,"
+
+"It is distasteful to me!" Sam senior said hotly; "most distasteful. I
+told his mother to tell him so, but he goes on writing--so she says."
+He sighed, and got up to put on his coat. "Well; I must go home. I
+suppose he has been inflicting himself upon Mrs. Richie this evening.
+If he stays late, I shall feel it my duty to speak plainly to him."
+
+Dr. Lavendar gave him a hand with his coat. "Gently does it, Samuel,
+gently does it!"
+
+His senior warden shook his head. The sense of paternal helplessness,
+felt more or less by all fathers of sons, was heavy upon him. He knew
+in a bewildered way, that he did not speak the boy's language. And yet
+he could not give up trying to communicate with him,--shouting at him,
+so to speak, as one shouts at a foreigner when trying to make oneself
+understood; for surely there must be some one word that would reach
+Sam's mind, some one touch that would stir his heart! Yet when he
+brought his perplexity to Dr. Lavendar, he was only told to hold his
+tongue and keep his hands off. The senior warden said to himself,
+miserably, that he was afraid Dr. Lavendar was getting old, "Well, I
+mustn't bother you," he said; "as for Sam, I suppose he will go his
+own gait! I don't know where he gets his stubbornness from. I myself
+am the most reasonable man in the world. All I ever ask is to be
+allowed to follow my own judgment. I asked his mother if obstinacy was
+a characteristic of her family, and she assured me it was not.
+Certainly Eliza herself has no will of her own. I don't think a good
+woman ever has. And, as I say, I never insisted upon my own way in my
+life--except, of course, in matters where I knew I was right."
+
+"Of course," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+The parting at the Stuffed Animal House the next morning was dreary
+enough. The day broke heavy with threatening rain. The man, after that
+brief flaming up of the embers of burned-out passion, had fallen into
+a weariness which he did not attempt to conceal. But the woman--being
+a woman--still tried to warm herself at the poor ashes, wasting her
+breath in a sobbing endeavor to blow them into some fitful ardor.
+There was a hurried breakfast, and while waiting for the stage the
+desultory talk that skims over dangerous topics for fear of getting
+into discussions for which there is no time. And with it the
+consciousness of things that burn to be said--at least on one side.
+
+"I'm sorry I was cross last night," she murmured once, under her
+breath.
+
+And he responded courteously, "Oh, not at all."
+
+But she pressed him. "You know it was only because I--love you so? And
+to make a joke of--"
+
+"Of course! Helena, when is that stage due? You don't suppose the
+driver misunderstood, and expects to take me on at the Tavern?"
+
+"No, he was told to call here.... Lloyd, it's just the same? You
+haven't--changed?"
+
+"Certainly not! I do hope he hasn't forgotten me? It would be
+extremely inconvenient."
+
+She turned away and stood looking out of the window into the rain-
+sodden garden. Mr. Pryor lighted a cigar. After a while she spoke
+again. "You'll come soon? I hope you will come soon! I'll try not to
+worry you."
+
+"Of course," he assured her; "but I trust your cook will be well next
+time, my dear."
+
+"Give me a day's notice, and I will have another cook if Maggie should
+be under the weather," she answered eagerly.
+
+"Oh, that reminds me," he said, and thrusting his hand into his pocket
+he went out to the kitchen. When he came back he went at once to the
+window, "I'm afraid that stage-driver has forgotten me," he said,
+frowning. But she reassured him--it really wasn't time yet; then she
+leaned her cheek on his shoulder.
+
+"Do you think you can come in a fortnight, Lloyd? Come the first of
+May, and everything shall be perfect. Will you?"
+
+Laughing, he put a careless arm around her, then catching sight of the
+stage pulling up at the gate, turned away so quickly that she
+staggered a little.
+
+"Ah!" he said in a relieved voice;--"beg your pardon, Nelly;--There's
+the stage!"
+
+At the door he kissed her hurriedly; but she followed him, bareheaded,
+out into the mist, catching his hand as they went down the path.
+
+"Good-by!" he called back from the hinged step of the stage. "Get
+along, driver, get along! I don't want to miss my train in Mercer.
+Good-by, my dear. Take care of yourself."
+
+Helena standing at the gate, followed the stage with her eyes until
+the road turned at the foot of the hill. Then she went back to the
+bench under the silver poplar and sat down. She said to herself that
+she was glad he was gone. His easy indifference to the annoyance to
+her of all these furtive years, seemed just for a moment unbearable.
+He had not showed a glimmer of sympathy for her position; he had not
+betrayed the slightest impatience at Frederick's astonishing health,
+so contrary to every law of probability and justice; he had not even
+understood how she felt at taking the friendship of the Old Chester
+people on false pretences--oh, these stupid people! That dull, self-
+satisfied, commonplace doctor's wife, so secure, so comfortable, in
+her right to Old Chester friendships! Of course, it was a great thing
+to be free from the narrowness and prejudice in which Old Chester was
+absolutely hidebound. But Lloyd might at least have understood that in
+spite of her freedom the years of delay had sometimes been a little
+hard for her; that it was cruel that Frederick should live, and live,
+and live, putting off the moment when she should be like--other
+people; like that complacent Mrs. King, even; (oh, how she detested
+the woman!) But Lloyd had shown no spark of sympathy or understanding;
+instead he had made a horrid joke.... Suddenly her eyes, sweet and
+kind and shallow as an animal's, clouded with pain, and she burst out
+crying--but only for one convulsive moment. She could not cry out here
+in the garden. She wished she could get into the house, but she was
+sure that her eyes were red, and the servants might notice them. She
+would have to wait a while. Then she shivered, for a sharp wind blew
+from across the hills where in the hollows the snow still lingered in
+grimy drifts, icy on the edges, and crumbling and settling and sinking
+away with every day of pale sunshine. The faint fragrance of wind-
+beaten daffodils reached her, and she saw two crocuses, long gold
+bubbles, over in the grass. She put the back of her hand against her
+cheek--it was hot still; she must wait a little longer. Her chilly
+discomfort made her angry at Lloyd, as well as hurt.... It was nearly
+half an hour before she felt sure that her eyes would not betray her
+and she could go into the house.
+
+Somehow or other the empty day passed; she had Lloyd's novel and the
+candy. It was cold enough for a fire in the parlor, and she lay on the
+sofa in front of it, and read and nibbled her candy and drowsed. Once,
+lazily, she roused herself to throw some grains of incense on the hot
+coals. Gradually the silence and perfume and warm sloth pushed the
+pain of the last twenty-four hours into the background of her mind,
+where it lay a dull ache of discontent. By and by even that ceased in
+physical well-being. Her body had her in its grip, and her spirit sunk
+softly into the warm and satisfied flesh. She bade Sarah bring her
+dinner into the parlor; after she had eaten it she slept. When she
+awoke in the late afternoon, she wished she could sleep again. All her
+thoughts ran together in a lazy blur. Somewhere, back of the blur, she
+knew there was unhappiness, so this was best--to lie warm and quiet by
+the fire, eating candy and yawning over her book.
+
+The next few days were given up to indolence and apathy. But at the
+end of the week the soul of her stirred. A letter from Lloyd came
+saying that he hoped she had the little boy with her, and this
+reminded her of her forgotten promise to Dr. Lavendar.
+
+But it was not until the next Monday afternoon that she roused herself
+sufficiently to give much thought to the matter. Then she decided to
+go down to the Rectory and see the child. It was another dark day of
+clouds hanging low, bulging big and black with wind and ravelling into
+rain along the edges. She hesitated at the discomfort of going out,
+but she said to herself, dully, that she supposed she needed the walk.
+As she went down the hill her cheeks began to glow with the buffet of
+the wind, and her leaf-brown eyes shone crystal clear from under her
+soft hair, crinkling in the mist and blowing all about her smooth
+forehead. The mist had thickened to rain before she reached the
+Rectory, and her cloak was soaked, which made Dr. Lavendar reproach
+her for her imprudence.
+
+"And where are your gums?" he demanded. When she confessed that she
+had forgotten them, he scolded her roundly.
+
+"I'll see that the little boy wears them when he comes to visit me,"
+she said, a comforted look coming into her face.
+
+"David? David will look after himself like a man, and keep you in
+order, too. As for visiting you, my dear, you'd better visit him a
+little first. I tell you--stay and have supper with us to-night?"
+
+But she protested that she had only come for a few minutes to ask
+about David. "I must go right home," she said nervously.
+
+"No, no. You can't get away,--oh!" he broke off excitedly--"here he
+is!" Dr. Lavendar's eagerness at the sight of the little boy who came
+running up the garden path, his hurry to open the front door and bring
+him into the study to present him to Mrs. Richie, fussing and proud
+and a little tremulous, would have touched her, if she had noticed
+him. But she did not notice him,--the child absorbed her. She could
+not leave him. Before she knew it she found herself taking off her
+bonnet and saying she would stay to tea.
+
+"David," said Dr. Lavendar, "I've got a bone in my leg; so you run and
+get me a clean pocket-handkerchief."
+
+"Can I go up-stairs like a crocodile?" said David.
+
+"Certainly, if it affords you the slightest personal satisfaction,"
+Dr. Lavendar told him; and while the little boy crawled laboriously on
+his stomach all the way up-stairs, Dr. Lavendar talked about him. He
+said he thought the child had been homesick just at first; he had
+missed his sister Janey. "He told me 'Janey' gave him 'forty kisses'
+every night," said Dr. Lavendar; "I thought that told a story--" At
+that moment the crocodile, holding a handkerchief between his teeth,
+came rapidly, head foremost, down-stairs. Dr. Lavendar raised a
+cautioning hand;--"Mustn't talk about him, now!"
+
+There was a quality in that evening that was new to Helena; it was
+dull, of course;--how very dull Lloyd would have found it! A childlike
+old man asking questions with serious simplicity of a little boy who
+was full of his own important interests and anxieties;--the feeding of
+Danny, and the regretful wonder that in heaven, the little dog would
+not be "let in."
+
+"Who said he wouldn't?" Dr. Lavendar demanded, fiercely, while Danny
+yawned with embarrassment at hearing his own name.
+
+"You read about heaven in the Bible," David said, suddenly shy; "an'
+it said outside were dogs;--an' some other animals I can't remember
+the names of."
+
+Dr. Lavendar explained with a twinkle that shared with his visitor the
+humor of those "other animals" itemized in the Revelations. It was a
+very mild humor; everything was mild at the Rectory; the very air
+seemed gentle! There was no apprehension, no excitement, no
+antagonism; only the placid commonplace of goodness and affection.
+Helena could not remember such an evening in all her life. And the
+friendship between youth and age was something she had never dreamed
+of. She saw David slip from his chair at table, and run around to Dr.
+Lavendar's side to reach up and whisper in his ear,--oh, if he would
+but put his cheek against hers, and whisper in her ear!
+
+The result of that secret colloquy was that David knelt down in front
+of the dining-room fire, and made a slice of smoky toast for Dr.
+Lavendar.
+
+"After supper you might roast an apple for Mrs. Richie," the old
+minister suggested. And David's eyes shone with silent joy. With
+anxious deliberation he picked out an apple from the silver wire
+basket on the sideboard; and when they went into the study, he
+presented a thread to Mrs. Richie.
+
+"Tie it to the stem," he commanded. "You're pretty slow," he added
+gently, and indeed her white fingers blundered with the unaccustomed
+task. When she had accomplished it, David wound the other end of the
+thread round a pin stuck in the high black mantel-shelf. The apple
+dropped slowly into place before the bars of the grate, and began--as
+everybody who has been a child knows--to spin slowly round, and then,
+slowly back again. David, squatting on the rug, watched it in silence.
+But Mrs. Richie would not let him be silent. She leaned forward, eager
+to touch him--his shoulders, his hair, his cheek, hot with the fire.
+
+"Won't you come and sit in my lap?"
+
+David glanced at Dr. Lavendar as though for advice; then got up and
+climbed on to Mrs. Richie's knee, keeping an eye on the apple that
+bobbed against the grate and sizzled.
+
+"Will you make me a little visit, dear?"
+
+David sighed. "I seem to visit a good deal; I'd like to belong
+somewhere."
+
+"Oh, you will, one of these days," Dr. Lavendar assured him.
+
+"I'd like to belong to you," David said thoughtfully.
+
+Dr. Lavendar beamed, and looked proudly at Mrs. Richie.
+
+"Because," David explained, "I love Goliath."
+
+"Oh," said Dr. Lavendar blankly.
+
+"It's blackening on one side," David announced, and slid down from
+Mrs. Richie's knee to set the apple spinning again.
+
+"The red cheek is beginning to crack," said Dr. Lavendar, deeply
+interested; "smells good, doesn't it, Mrs. Richie?"
+
+"Have you any little boys and girls?" David asked, watching the apple.
+
+"Come and climb on my knee and I'll tell you," she bribed him.
+
+He came reluctantly; the apple was spinning briskly now under the
+impulse of a woolly burst of pulp through the red skin.
+
+"Have you?" he demanded.
+
+"No, David."
+
+Here his interest in Mrs. Richie's affairs flagged, for the apple
+began to steam deliciously. Dr. Lavendar, watching her with his shrewd
+old eyes, asked her one or two questions; but, absorbed in the child,
+she answered quite at random. She put her cheek against his hair, and
+whispered, softly: "Turn round, and I'll give you forty kisses."
+Instantly David moved his head away. The snub was so complete that she
+looked over at Dr. Lavendar, hoping he had not seen it. "I once knew a
+little baby," she said, trying to hide her embarrassment, "that had
+curly hair the color of yours."
+
+"It has begun to drip," said David briefly. "Does Alice live at your
+house?"
+
+"_Alice!_"
+
+"The gentleman--your brother--said Alice was nineteen. I thought maybe
+she lived at your house."
+
+"No, dear. Look at the apple!"
+
+David looked. "Why not?"
+
+"Why, she lives at her own house, dear little boy." "Does she pay you
+a visit?"
+
+"No. David, I think the apple is done. Why didn't you roast one for
+Dr. Lavendar?"
+
+"I had to do it for you because you're company. Why doesn't she pay
+you a visit?"
+
+"Because--oh, for a good many reasons. I'm afraid must go home now."
+
+The child slipped from her knee with unflattering haste. "You've got
+to eat your apple first," he said, and ran to get a saucer and spoon.
+With great care the thread was broken and the apple secured. Then
+David sat calmly down in front of her to watch her eat it; but after
+the first two or three mouthfuls, Dr. Lavendar had pity on her, and
+the smoky skin and the hard core were banished to the dining-room.
+While the little boy was carrying them off, she said eagerly, that she
+wanted him.
+
+"You'll let me have him?"
+
+"I'm going to keep him for a while."
+
+"Oh, do give him to me!" she urged.
+
+"Not yet. You come here and see him. I won't make ye eat a roast apple
+every time." He smiled at her as he spoke, for she was clasping her
+hands, and her eyes were eager and shining.
+
+"I must have him! I _must_!"
+
+"No use teasing--here comes Dr. King. He'll tell you I'm an obstinate
+old man. Hey, Willy, my boy! Ain't I an obstinate old man?"
+
+"You are," said William. He had walked in unannounced, in good Old
+Chester fashion, and stood smiling in the doorway.
+
+"Oh, plead my cause!" she said, turning to him.
+
+"Of course I will. But it isn't much use; we are all under his heel."
+
+They were standing, for Mrs. Richie had said she must go, when Dr.
+Lavendar had an idea: "Would you mind seeing her home, Willy?" he
+said, in an aside. "I was going to send Mary, but this is a chance to
+get better acquainted with her--if you're not too tired."
+
+"Of course I'm not too tired," the doctor said eagerly, and went back
+to the fireside where Mrs. Richie had dropped on her knees before
+David. "I'm going to walk home with you," he announced. She looked up
+with a quick protest, but he only laughed. "If we let you go alone,
+your brother will think we have no manners in Old Chester. Besides I
+need the walk." And when she had fastened her cloak, and kissed David
+good night, and thrown Dr. Lavendar an appealing look, William gave
+her his hand down the two steps from the front door, and then made her
+take his arm. Dr. Lavendar had provided a lantern, and as its shifting
+beam ran back and forth across the path the doctor bade her be careful
+where she stepped. "These flag-stones are abominably rough," he said;
+"I never noticed it before. And one can't see in the dark."
+
+But what with the lantern and the stars, there was light enough for
+William King to see the stray curl that blew across her forehead--
+brown, was it? And yet, William remembered that in daylight her hair
+was too bright to be called brown. He was solicitous lest he was
+making her walk too fast. "I don't want your brother to think we don't
+take care of you in Old Chester," he said; and in the starlight he
+could see that her face flushed a little. Then he repeated some Old
+Chester gossip, which amused her very much--and held his breath to
+listen to the delicious gayety of her laugh.
+
+"There ought to be a better path for you up the hill," he said; "I
+must speak to Sam Wright about it." And carefully he flung the
+noiseless zigzag of light back and forth in front of her, and told
+some more stories that he might hear that laugh again.
+
+When he left her at her own door she said with a sudden impetuous
+timidity, "Dr. King, _please_ make Dr. Lavendar give me the little
+boy!"
+
+"I will!" he said, and laughed at her radiant face.
+
+It seemed to the doctor as he went down the hill, that he had had a
+most delightful evening. He could not recollect what they had talked
+about, but he knew that they had agreed on every point. "A very
+intelligent lady," he said to himself.
+
+"William," said Martha, looking up from her mending as he entered the
+sitting-room, "did you remember to tell Davis that the kitchen sink
+leaks?"
+
+"Oh!" said the doctor blankly; "well--I'll tell him in the morning."
+Then, smiling vaguely, he dropped down into his shabby old easy-chair,
+and watched Martha's darning-needle plod in and out. "Martha," he said
+after a while, "what shade would you call your hair if it was--well,
+kind of brighter?"
+
+"_What?_ said Martha, looking at him over her spectacles; she put up
+her hard capable hand and touched her hair softly, as if she had
+forgotten it. "My hair used to be a real chestnut. Do you mean
+chestnut?"
+
+"I guess I do. It's a pretty color."
+
+Martha looked at him with a queer shyness in her married eyes, then
+tossed her head a little and thrust her darning-needle into the gray
+stocking with a jaunty air. "That's what you used to say," she said.
+After a while, noticing his tired lounge in the old chair, she said
+kindly, "Why did you stay so long at Dr. Lavendar's, Willy? You look
+tired. Do go to bed."
+
+"Oh," William explained, "I didn't stay very long; he asked me to see
+Mrs. Richie home. She had taken tea with him."
+
+Martha's face suddenly hardened. "Oh," she said coldly. Then, after a
+short silence: "Mrs. Richie's hair is too untidy for my taste."
+
+When Dr. Lavendar went back into the study he found David curled up in
+an arm-chair in profound meditation.
+
+"What are you thinking about so hard?" Dr. Lavendar said.
+
+"Yesterday. After church."
+
+"Thinking about yesterday?" Dr. Lavendar repeated puzzled. David
+offered no explanation, and the old minister searched his memory for
+any happening of interest after church ... but found none. He had come
+out of the vestry and in the church David had joined him, following
+him down the aisle to the door and waiting close behind him through
+the usual Sunday greetings: "Morning, Sam!" "Good morning, Dr.
+Lavendar." "How are you, Ezra? How many drops of water make the mighty
+ocean, Ezra?" "The amount of water might be estimated in tons, Dr.
+Lavendar, but I doubt whether the number of minims could be compu--"
+"Hullo! there's Horace; how d'ye do, Horace? How's Jim this
+morning?"--and so on; the old friendly greetings of all the friendly
+years.... Surely nothing in them to make the child thoughtful?
+
+Suddenly David got up and came and stood beside him.
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"N. or M.," Dr. Lavendar replied.
+
+"What, sir?" said David, in a troubled voice; and Dr. Lavendar was
+abashed.
+
+"My name is Edward Lavendar, sir. Why do you want to know?"
+
+"Because, yesterday everybody said 'Dr. Lavendar.' I didn't think
+Doctor could be your front name. All the other people had front
+names."
+
+"Well, I have a front name, David, but you see, there's nobody in Old
+Chester to call me by it." He sighed slightly, and then he smiled.
+"The last one who called me by my front name is dead, David. John was
+his name. I called him Johnny."
+
+David looked at him with wide eyes, silent. Dr. Lavendar took his pipe
+out of his mouth, and stared for a minute at the fire.
+
+"I should think," David said sadly, "God would be discouraged to have
+_everybody_ He makes, die."
+
+At that Dr. Lavendar came quickly out of his reverie. "Oh, it's better
+that way," he said, cheerfully. "One of these days I'll tell you why.
+What do you say to a game of dominoes?"
+
+David squeaked with pleasure. Then he paused to say: "Is that lady,
+Alice's aunt?" and Dr. Lavendar had to recall who "Alice" was before
+he could say "yes." Then a little table was pulled up, and the
+dominoes were poured out upon it, with a joyful clatter. For the next
+half hour they were both very happy. In the midst of it David
+remarked, thoughtfully: "There are two kinds of aunts. One is bugs.
+She is the other kind." And after Dr. Lavendar had stopped chuckling
+they discussed the relative merits of standing the dominoes upright,
+or putting them on their sides, and Dr. Lavendar built his fence in
+alternate positions, which was very effective. It was so exciting that
+bedtime was a real trial to them both. At the last stroke of eight
+David clenched both hands.
+
+"Perhaps the clock is fast?"
+
+Dr. Lavendar compared it with his watch, and shook his head
+sympathetically. "No; just right. Tumble 'em back into the box. Good
+night."
+
+"Good night, sir," David said, and stood hesitating. The color came
+and went in his face, and he twisted the top button of his jacket with
+little nervous fingers.
+
+"Good night," Dr. Lavendar repeated, significantly.
+
+But still David hesitated. Then he came and stood close beside Dr.
+Lavendar. "Lookee here," he said tremulously, "_I'll_ call you Edward.
+I'd just as lieves as not."
+
+There was a full minute's silence. Then Dr. Lavendar said, "I thank
+you, David. That is a kind thought. But no; I like Dr. Lavendar as a
+name. So many boys and girls have called me that, that I'm fond of it.
+And I like to have you use it. But I'm much obliged to you, David. Now
+I guess we'll say good night. Hey?"
+
+The child's face cleared; he drew a deep breath as if he had
+accomplished something. Then he said good night, and trudged off to
+bed. Dr. Lavendar looked after him tenderly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+April brightened into May before David came to live at the Stuffed
+Animal House. Dr. Lavendar had his own reasons for the delay, which he
+did not share with anybody, but they resulted in a sort of intimacy,
+which Helena, eager for the child, could not refuse.
+
+"He needs clothes," Dr. Lavendar put her off; "I can't let him visit
+you till Mary gets his wardrobe to rights."
+
+"Oh, let me get his little things."
+
+--Now, who would have supposed that Dr. Lavendar was so deep! To begin
+with, he was a man, and an old man, at that; and with never a chick or
+a child of his own. How did he know what a child's little clothes are
+to a woman?--"Well," he said, "suppose you make him a set of night-
+drawers."
+
+Helena's face fell. "I don't know how to sew. I thought I could buy
+what he needed."
+
+"No; he has enough bought things, but if you will be so kind, my dear,
+as to make--"
+
+"I will!" she promised, eagerly, and Dr. Lavendar said he would bring
+David up to be measured.
+
+Her sewing was a pathetic blunder of haste and happiness; it brought
+Dr. Lavendar and David up to the Stuffed Animal House very often, "to
+try on." David's coming was always a delight, but the old man fretted
+her, somehow;--he was so good. She said so to William King, who
+laughed at the humor of a good woman's objection to goodness. The
+incongruity of such a remark from her lips was as amusing as a child's
+innocently base comment.
+
+[Illustration: Her sewing was a pathetic blunder of haste and
+happiness. _Awakening of Helena Richie_]
+
+William had fallen into the habit of drawing up and calling out "good
+morning" whenever he and his mare passed her gate. Mrs. Richie's lack
+of common sense seemed to delight the sensible William. When he was
+with her, he was in the frame of mind that finds everything a joke. It
+was a demand for the eternal child in her, to which, involuntarily,
+she responded. She laughed at him, and even teased him about his
+shabby buggy with a gayety that made him tingle with pleasure. She
+used to wonder at herself as she did it--conscious and uneasy, and
+resolving every time that she would not do it again. She had none of
+this lightness with any one else. With Dr. Lavendar she was reserved
+to the point of coldness, and with young Sam Wright, matter-of-fact to
+a discouraging degree.
+
+But she did not see Sam often in the next month. It had occurred to
+Sam senior that Adam Smith might cure the boy's taste for 'bosh'; so,
+by his father's orders, his Sunday afternoons were devoted to _The
+Wealth of Nations_. As for his evenings, his grandfather took
+possession of them. Benjamin Wright's proposal that the young man
+should go away for a while, had fallen flat; Sam replying, frankly,
+that he did not care to leave Old Chester. As Mr. Wright was not
+prepared to give any reasons for urging his plan, he dropped it; and
+instead on Sunday nights detained his grandson to listen to this or
+that drama or poem until the boy could hardly hide his impatience.
+When he was free and could hurry down the hill road, as often as not
+the lights were out in the Stuffed Animal House, and he could only
+linger at the gate and wonder which was her window. But when he did
+find her, he had an evening of passionate delight, even though
+occasionally she snubbed him, lazily.
+
+"Do you go out in your skiff much?" she asked once; and when he
+answered, "No; I filled it with stones and sunk it, because you didn't
+like rowing," she spoke to him with a sharpness that surprised
+herself, though it produced no effect whatever on Sam.
+
+"You are a very foolish boy! What difference does it make whether I
+like rowing or not?"
+
+Sam smiled placidly, and said he had had hard work to get stones
+enough to fill the skiff. "I put them in," he explained, "and then I
+sculled out in mid-stream, and scuttled her. I had to swim ashore. It
+was night, and the water was like flowing ink, and there was a star in
+every ripple," he ended dreamily.
+
+"Sam," she said, "if you don't stop being so foolish, I won't let you
+come and see me,"
+
+"Am I a nuisance about my drama?" he asked with alarm.
+
+"Not about your drama," she said significantly; but Sam was too happy
+to draw any unflattering deductions.
+
+When old Mr. Wright discovered that his stratagem of keeping his
+grandson late Sunday evenings had not checked the boy's acquaintance
+with Mrs. Richie, he tried a more direct method. "You young ass! Can't
+you keep away from that house? She thinks you are a nuisance!"
+
+"No, grandfather," Sam assured him earnestly, "she doesn't. I asked
+her, and she said--"
+
+"Asked her?" roared the old man, "Do you expect a female to tell the
+truth?" And then he swore steadily for a minute. "I'll have to see
+Lavendar," he said despairingly.
+
+But Mr. Wright's cause was aided by some one stronger than Dr.
+Lavendar. Helena's attention was so fixed on the visitor who was
+coming to the Stuffed Animal House that Sam's conversation ceased to
+amuse her. Those little night-drawers on which she pricked her fingers
+interested her a thousand times more than did his dramatic visions.
+They interested her so much that sometimes she could almost forget
+that Lloyd Pryor's visit was delayed. For though it was the first of
+May, he had not come again. "I am so busy," he wrote; "it is
+impossible for me to get away. I suppose David will have his sling all
+ready for me when I do arrive?"
+
+Helena was sitting on the porch with her clumsy needlework when Sarah
+brought her the letter, and after she had read it, she tore it up
+angrily. "He was in Mercer a week ago; I know he was, because there is
+always that directors' meeting on the last Thursday in April, so he
+must have been there. And he wouldn't come!" Down in the orchard the
+apple-trees were in blossom, and when the wind stirred, the petals
+fell in sudden warm white showers; across the sky, from west to east,
+was a path of mackerel clouds. It was a pastel of spring--a dappled
+sky, apple blossoms, clover, and the river's sheen of gray-blue. All
+about her were the beginnings of summer--the first exquisite green of
+young leaves; oaks, still white and crumpled from their furry sheaths;
+horse-chestnuts, each leaf drooping from its stem like a hand bending
+at the wrist; a thin flicker of elm buds, still distrustful of the
+sun. Later, this delicate dance of foliage would thicken so that the
+house would be in shadow, and the grass under the locusts on either
+side of the front door fade into thin, mossy growth. But just now it
+was overflowing with May sunshine. "Oh, he _would_ enjoy it if he
+would only come," she thought. Well, anyhow, David would like it; and
+she began to fell her seam with painstaking unaccustomed fingers.
+
+The child was to come that day. Half a dozen times she dropped her
+work to run to the gate, and shielding her eyes with her hand looked
+down the road to Old Chester, but there was no sign of the jogging
+hood of the buggy. Had anything happened? Was he sick? _Had Dr.
+Lavendar changed his mind?_ Her heart stood still at that. She
+debated whether or not she should go down to the Rectory and find out
+what the delay meant? Then she called to one of the servants who was
+crossing the hall, that she wondered why the little boy who was to
+visit her, did not come. Her face cleared at the reminder that the
+child went to school in the morning.
+
+"Why, of course! I suppose he will have to go every morning?" she
+added ruefully.
+
+"My," Maggie said smiling, "you're wan that ought to have six!"
+
+Mrs. Richie smiled, too. Then she said to herself that she wouldn't
+let him go to school every day; she was sure he was not strong enough.
+She ventured something like this to Dr. Lavendar when, about four
+o'clock, Goliath and the buggy finally appeared.
+
+"Strong enough?" said Dr. Lavendar. "He's strong enough to study a
+great deal harder than he does, the little rascal! I'm afraid Rose
+Knight will spoil him; she's almost as bad as Ellen Bailey. You didn't
+know our Ellen, did ye? No; she'd married Spangler and gone out West
+before you came to us. Ah, a dear woman, but wickedly unselfish. Rose
+Knight took the school when Spangler took Ellen." Then he added one or
+two straight directions: Every school-day David was to come to the
+Rectory for his dinner, and to Collect Class on Saturdays. "You will
+have to keep him at his catechism," said Dr. Lavendar; "he is weak on
+the long answers."
+
+"Oh!" Helena said, rather startled; "you don't want me to teach him--
+things like that, do you?"
+
+"Things like what?"
+
+"The catechism, and--to pray, and--"
+
+Dr. Lavendar smiled. "You can teach folks to say their prayers, my
+dear, but nobody can teach them to pray. Only life does that. But
+David's been taught his prayers; you just let him say 'em at your
+knee, that's all"
+
+David, dismissed to the garden while his elders talked, had discovered
+the rabbit-hutch, and could hardly tear himself away from it to say
+good-by. But when Dr. Lavendar called out that he was going, the
+little boy's heart misgave him. He came and stood by the step of the
+buggy, and picked with nervous fingers at the dry mud on the wheel--
+for Dr. Lavendar's buggy was not as clean as it should have been.
+
+"Well, David?" Dr. Lavendar said cheerfully. The child with his chin
+sunk on his breast said something. "What?" said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+David mumbled a word or two in a voice that seemed to come from his
+stomach; it sounded like, "Like you best." But Dr. Lavendar did not
+hear it, and David ran swiftly back to the rabbits. There Helena found
+him, gazing through two large tears at the opal-eyed pair behind the
+wooden bars. Their white shell-like ears wavered at her step, and they
+paused in their nibbling; then went on again with timid, jewel-like
+glances in her direction.
+
+Helena, at the sight of those two tears, knelt down beside the little
+boy, eager to be sympathetic. But he did not notice her, and by and by
+the tears dried up. After she had tried to make him talk;--of Dr.
+Lavendar, of school, of his old home;--without drawing anything more
+from him than "yes ma'am," or "no ma'am," she gave it up and waited
+until he should be tired of the rabbits. The sun was warm, the smell
+of the crushed dock leaves heavy in the sheltered corner behind the
+barn; it was so silent that they could hear the nibbling of the two
+prisoners, who kept glancing at them with apprehensive eyes that
+gleamed with pale red fires. David sighed with joy.
+
+"What are their names?" he said at last in a low voice.
+
+"They haven't any names; you can name them if you like."
+
+"I shall call them Mr. and Mrs. Smith," he said with decision. And
+then fell silent again.
+
+"You came to Old Chester in the stage with Mr. Pryor," she said after
+a while; "he told me you were a very nice little boy."
+
+"How did he know?" demanded David.
+
+"He is very nice himself," Helena said smiling.
+
+David meditated. "Is that gentleman my enemy?"
+
+"Of course not! he isn't anybody's enemy," she told him reprovingly.
+
+David turned silently to his rabbits.
+
+"Why did you think he was your enemy?" she persisted.
+
+"I only just hoped he wasn't; I don't want to love him."
+
+"What!"
+
+"If he was my enemy, I'd have to love him, you know," David explained
+patiently.
+
+Helena in her confused astonishment knew not what to reply. She
+stammered something about that being wrong; of course David must love
+Mr. Pryor!
+
+"They ought to have fresh water," David interrupted thoughtfully; and
+Helena had to reach into the hutch for a battered tin pan.
+
+She watched him run to the stable and come back, holding the pan in
+both hands and walking very slowly under the mottled branches of the
+button-woods; at every step the water splashed over the rusty brim,
+and the sunshine, catching and flickering in it, was reflected in a
+rippling gleam across his serious face.
+
+All that afternoon he permitted her to follow him about. He was gently
+polite when she spoke to him but he hardly noticed her until, as they
+went down through the orchard, his little hand tightened suddenly on
+hers, and he pressed against her skirts.
+
+"Are there snakes in this grass?" he asked timorously. "A snake," he
+added, looking up at her confidingly, "is the only insect I am afraid
+of."
+
+She stooped down and cuddled him reassuringly, and he rewarded her by
+snuggling up against her like a friendly puppy. She was very happy. As
+it grew dusk and cool, and all the sky was yellow behind the black
+line of the hills, she lured him into the house and watched him eat
+his supper, forgetting to eat her own.
+
+When she took him up-stairs to bed, Dr. Lavendar's directions came
+back to her with a slight shock--she must hear him say his prayers.
+How was she to introduce the subject? The embarrassed color burned in
+her cheeks as she helped him undress and tried to decide on the proper
+moment to speak of--prayers. But David took the matter into his own
+hands. As he stepped into his little night-clothes, buttoning them
+around his waist with slow precision, he said:
+
+"Now I'll say my prayers. Sit by the window; then I can see that star
+when I open my eyes. It's hard to keep your eyes shut so long, ain't
+it?" he added confidentially.
+
+Helena sat down, her heart fluttering in her throat. David knelt
+beside her, shutting first one eye and then the other. "'Now I lay
+me--"' he began in a businesslike voice. At the Amen he opened his eyes
+and drew a long breath. Helena moved slightly and he shut his eyes
+again; "I've not done yet.
+
+"'Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me, Bless Thy little lamb to-night--'"
+
+He paused and looked up at Mrs. Richie. "Can I say colt?" Before she
+could reply he decided for himself. "No; colts don't have shepherds;
+it has to be lamb."
+
+Her silent laughter did not disturb him. He finished with another
+satisfied Amen. Helena put her arms about him to raise him from the
+floor, but he looked up, aggrieved.
+
+"Why, I've not done yet," he reproached her "You've forgot the
+blessings."
+
+"The blessings?" she asked timidly.
+
+"Why, of course," said David, trying to be patient; "but I'm most
+done," he encouraged her. "God bless everybody--Dr. Lavendar taught me
+the new blessings," he interrupted himself, his eyes snapping open,
+"because my old blessings were all gone to heaven. God bless
+everybody; Dr. Lavendar, an' Mary, an' Goliath--" Helena laughed. "He
+said I could," David defended himself doggedly--"an' Danny, an' Dr.
+King, an' Mrs. Richie. And make me a good boy. For Jesus' sake Amen.
+Now I'm done!" cried David, scrambling happily to his feet.
+
+"And--Mr. Pryor, too? Won't you ask God to bless Mr. Pryor?"
+
+"But," said David, frowning, "I'm done."
+
+"After this, though, it would be nice--"
+
+"Well," David answered coldly, "God can bless him if He wants to. But
+He needn't do it just to please me."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+When Dr. Lavendar left David at the Stuffed Animal House, he didn't
+feel, somehow, like going home; the Rectory would be so quiet. It
+occurred to him that, as he was on the hill, he might as well look in
+on Benjamin Wright.
+
+He found the old gentleman in his beaver hat and green serge dressing-
+gown, tottering up and down the weedy driveway in front of his
+veranda, and repeating poetry.
+
+"O great corrector of enormous times, Shaker of o'er rank states, thou
+grand decider Of dusty and old titles, that healest with blood--Hello!
+'Bout time you came to see me. I suppose you want to get some money
+out of me for something?"
+
+"Of course; I always want money out of somebody for something. There's
+a leak in the vestry roof. How are you?"
+
+"How do you suppose I am? At eighty-one, with one foot in the grave!
+Ready to jump over a five-barred gate?"
+
+"I'm seventy-two," said Dr. Lavendar, "and I played marbles
+yesterday."
+
+"Come in and have a smoke," the older man said, hobbling on to the
+veranda, where four great white columns, blistered and flaked by time,
+supported a roof that darkened the shuttered windows of the second
+story.
+
+He led the way indoors to the dining-room, growling that his nigger,
+Simmons, was a fool. "He _says_ he closes the shutters to keep the
+flies out; makes the room as dark as a pocket, and there ain't any
+flies this time of year, anyhow. He does it to stop my birds from
+singing; he can't fool me! To stop my birds!" He went over to one of
+the windows and pushed the shutters open with a clatter; instantly a
+twitter ran from cage to cage, and the fierce melancholy of his old
+face softened. "Hear that?" he said proudly.
+
+"I ought to come oftener," Dr. Lavendar reproached himself; "he's
+lonely."
+
+And, indeed, the room with its mammoth sideboard black with age and
+its solitary chair at one end of the long table, was lonely enough. On
+the walls, papered a generation ago with a drab paper sprinkled over
+with occasional pale gilt medallions, were some time-stained
+engravings: "The Destruction of Nineveh"; "The Trial of Effie Deans";
+"The Death-bed of Washington." A gloomy room at best; now, with the
+shutters of one window still bowed, and the faint twitter of the
+canaries, and that one chair at the head of the table, it was very
+melancholy.
+
+"Sit down!" said Benjamin Wright. Still in his moth-eaten high hat, he
+shuffled about to fetch from the sideboard a fat decanter with a
+silver chain and label around its neck, and two tumblers.
+
+"No," said Dr. Lavendar; "I'm obliged to you."
+
+"What, temperance?" snarled the other.
+
+"Well, I hope so," Dr. Lavendar said, "but not a teetotaler, if that's
+what you mean. Only I don't happen to want any whiskey at five o'clock
+in the afternoon."
+
+At which his host swore softly, and lifting the decanter poured out
+two good fingers.
+
+"Mr. Wright," said Dr. Lavendar, "I will be obliged if you will not
+swear in my presence."
+
+"You needn't talk to me," cried Benjamin Wright, "I despise this
+damned profanity there is about; besides, I am always scrupulously
+particular in my language before females and parsons. Well;--I wanted
+to see you, because that jack-donkey, Sam, my grandson, is causing me
+some anxiety."
+
+"Why, Sam is a good boy," Dr. Lavendar protested.
+
+"Too good. I like a boy to be human at twenty-three. He doesn't know
+the wickedness of the world."
+
+"Thank God," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"Dominie, ignorance ain't virtue."
+
+"No; but it's a fair substitute. I wouldn't want one of my boys to be
+able to pass an examination on wrong-doing."
+
+"But you want him to recognize it when he sees it, don't you?"
+
+"If he knows goodness, you can trust him to recognize the other thing.
+Teach 'em goodness. Badness will label itself,"
+
+"Doesn't follow," Benjamin Wright said. "But you're a parson; parsons
+know about as much as females--good females. Look here! I have reasons
+for saying that the boy ought to get out of Old Chester. I want your
+assistance."
+
+"Get out of Old Chester!--to see how wicked the world is?"
+
+Mr. Wright shook his head. "No; he could see that here--only the puppy
+hasn't got his eyes open yet. A little knocking about the world, such
+as any boy ought to have, will open 'em. Living in Old Chester is
+narrowing; very narrowing. Besides, he's got--well, he's got some
+truck he's written. It isn't entirely bad, Lavendar, and he might as
+well try to get it published, or, maybe, produced in some theatre. So
+let him go and hunt up a publisher or a manager. Now, very likely,
+his--his _mother_ won't approve. I want you to urge--her, to let him
+go."
+
+"Travelling might be good for Sam," said Dr. Lavendar; "I admit that--
+though not to learn the wickedness of the world. But I don't know that
+it would be worth while to take a journey just on account of his
+writing. He could put it in an envelope and mail it to a publisher;
+he'd get it back just as soon," Dr. Lavendar said chuckling. "Look
+here, what's the matter? I can see you're concerned about the boy."
+
+"Concerned?" cried Benjamin Wright, pounding the table with his
+tumbler and chewing orange-skin rapidly. "I'm damned concerned."
+
+"I will ask, sir, that you will not swear in my presence."
+
+Mr. Wright coughed. "I will endeavor to respect the cloth," he said
+stiffly.
+
+"If you will respect yourself, it will be sufficient. As for Sam, if
+there's anything wrong, his father ought to know it."
+
+"Well then, tell his--_mother_, that there is something wrong."
+
+"What?"
+
+Mr. Wright got up, and clasping his hands behind him, shuffled about
+the room. Instantly one of the canaries began to sing. "Stop that!" he
+said. The bird quivered with shrill music. "Stop! You! ... There's no
+such thing as conversation, with these creatures about," he added in a
+proud aside. "Did you ever hear such singing?"
+
+Dr. Lavendar, unable to make himself heard, shook his head.
+
+"If you don't stop," said Mr. Wright, "I'll wring your neck!" and as
+the bird continued, he opened the door. "Simmons! You freckled nigger!
+Bring me the apron." Then he stamped, and cursed the slowness of
+niggers. Simmons, however, came as fast as his old legs could carry
+him, bearing a blue gingham apron. This, thrown over the cage,
+produced silence.
+
+"There! Now, perhaps, you'll hold your tongue? ... Lavendar, I prefer
+not to say what is wrong. Merely tell Sam's--_mother_, that he
+had better go. If she is too mean to provide the money, I will."
+
+"Sam's father is not too mean to do anything for Sam's welfare; but of
+course, a general accusation is not convincing; should not be
+convincing--Why!" said Dr. Lavendar, interrupting himself, "bless my
+heart! I believe you mean that the boy is making sheep's-eyes at your
+neighbor here on the hill? Is that it? Why, Benjamin, the best way to
+cure that is to pay no attention to it."
+
+"Sir," said Mr. Wright, sinking into his chair breathlessly, and
+tapping the table with one veined old finger; "when I was a young man,
+it was not thought proper to introduce the name of a female into a
+discussion between gentlemen."
+
+"Well," Dr. Lavendar admitted, "maybe not--when you were young. But
+all of us young folks in Old Chester know perfectly well that Sam is
+smitten, and we are ignoring it."
+
+"What! His--_mother_ knows it?"
+
+"His father knows it perfectly well," said Dr. Lavendar smiling.
+
+Mr. Wright got up again, his fingers twitching with impatience.
+"Lavendar," he began--another bird trilled, and snarling with
+annoyance, he pulled the blue apron from the first cage and threw it
+over the second. "These creatures drive me distracted! ... Lavendar,
+to get Sam out of Old Chester, I might almost consent to see his--
+_mother_, if there was no other way to accomplish it."
+
+At that Dr. Lavendar stopped smiling. "Benjamin," he said solemnly,
+"if any foolishness on the part of the boy brings you to such wisdom,
+the hand of the Lord will be in it!"
+
+"I don't want to see--his relations!" cried Benjamin Wright; "but
+Sam's got to get away from this place for a while, and if you won't
+persuade his--_mother_ to allow it, why I might be driven to
+seeing--her. But why shouldn't he try to get his truck published?"
+
+Dr. Lavendar was very much moved. "If you'll only see your son," he
+said, "this other business will straighten itself out somehow. But--"
+he paused; "getting Sam's play published isn't a very good excuse for
+seeing him. I'd rather have him think you were worried because the boy
+had an attack of calf-love. No; I wouldn't want you to talk about
+theatrical things," Dr. Lavendar ended thoughtfully.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, the fact is, Samuel has no sympathy with dramas or playhouses.
+I do not myself approve of the theatre, but I am told respectable
+persons have adopted the profession. Samuel, however, can't find any
+good in it."
+
+"He can't, can't he? Well, well; it was efficacious--it was
+efficacious!"
+
+"What was efficacious?"
+
+Benjamin Wright laughed loudly. "You--don't know? He never told you?"
+
+"You mean what you and he quarrelled about? No; he never told me."
+
+"He was a fool."
+
+"Benjamin, if you were not a fool at twenty-four; you missed a good
+deal."
+
+"And now he objects to theatrical things?"
+
+"He objects so intensely," said Dr. Lavendar, "that, anxious as I am
+to have you meet and bring this foolish and wicked quarrel to an end,
+I should really hesitate to have you do so, if you insisted on
+discussing that subject."
+
+Benjamin Wright lifted one trembling fist. "It was efficacious!"
+
+"And you would give your right hand to undo it," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+The very old man lowered his shaking right hand and looked at it; then
+he said sullenly, "I only wanted his own good. You ought to see that--
+a parson!"
+
+"But you forget; I don't know what it was about."
+
+Mr. Wright's face twitched. "Well," he said spasmodically, "I'll-tell
+you. I--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"I--" his voice broke, then he coughed, then he tried to laugh.
+"Simple enough; simple enough. I had occasion to send him to Mercer.
+He was to come back that night." Mr. Wright stopped; poured some
+whiskey into his glass, and forgetting to add any water, drank it at a
+gulp, "He didn't come back until the next afternoon."
+
+"Yes. Well?"
+
+"In those days I was of--of somewhat hasty temper."
+
+"So I have heard," said Dr, Lavendar,
+
+Benjamin Wright glared. "When I was young, listening to gossip was not
+thought becoming in the cloth. When he came, I learned that he had
+stayed over in Mercer--without my consent, mark you--_to go to the
+theatre!_"
+
+"Well?" said Dr, Lavendar. "He was twenty-four. Why should he have
+your consent?"
+
+Mr., Wright waved this question aside. "When he came home, I spoke
+with some severity,"
+
+"This quarrel," said Dr. Lavendar, "is not built on such folly as
+that."
+
+Benjamin Wright shook his head, and made a careless gesture with his
+trembling hand. "Not--entirely. I reproved him, as I say. And he was
+impertinent. Impertinent, mind you, to his father! And I--in those
+days my temper was somewhat quick--I--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+But Mr. Wright seemed unable to proceed, except to say again, "I--
+reproved him,"
+
+"But," Dr. Lavendar protested, "you don't mean to tell me that Samuel,
+just for a reproof, an unkind and unjust reproof, would--why, I cannot
+believe it!"
+
+"It was not unjust!" Benjamin Wright's melancholy eyes flamed angrily.
+
+"I know, Samuel," said Dr. Lavendar. "He is obstinate; I've told him
+so a hundred times. And he's conceited--so's everybody, more or less;
+if in nothing else, we're conceited because we're not conceited. But
+he's not a fool. So, whether he is right or not, I am sure he thinks
+he had something more to complain of than a good blowing-up?"
+
+"In a way," said the old man, examining his ridgy finger-nails and
+speaking with a gasp, "he had. Slightly."
+
+Dr. Lavendar's stern lip trembled with anxiety. "What?"
+
+"I--chastised him; a little."
+
+"You--_what_?"
+
+Benjamin Wright nodded; the wrinkled pouches under his eyes grew dully
+red. "My God!" he said plaintively; "think of that--a hasty moment!
+Thirty-two years; my God! I--spanked him."
+
+Dr. Lavendar opened his lips to speak, but found no words.
+
+"And he was offended! Offended? What right had he to be offended?
+_I_ was the offended party. He went to a low theatre. Apparently
+you see nothing wrong in that? Well, I've always said that every
+parson had the making of an actor in him. It's a toss-up--the stage or
+the pulpit. Same thing at bottom. But perhaps even you won't approve
+of his staying away all night? Smoking! Drinking! He'd been drunk. He
+confessed it. And there was a woman in it. He confessed that. Said
+they'd all 'gone to supper together.' Said that he was 'seeing the
+world'--which a man ('_man_,' if you please!) of his years had a
+right to do. Well; I suppose you'd have had me smile at him, and tuck
+him up in bed to sleep off his headache, and give him a stick of
+candy? That wasn't my way. I reproved him. I--chastised him. Perfectly
+proper. Perhaps--unusual. He was twenty-four, and I laid him across my
+knee, and--well; I got over it in fifteen minutes. I was, perhaps,
+hasty My temper in those days was not what it is now. But I forgave
+him in fifteen minutes; and he had gone! He's been gone--for thirty-
+two years. My God!"
+
+He poured out another finger of whiskey, but forgot to drink it. A
+canary-bird chirped loudly, then lapsed into a sleepy twitter.
+
+"I was well rid of him! To make a quarrel out of a thing like that--a
+joke, as you might say. I laughed, myself, afterwards, at the thought
+of it. A fellow of twenty-four--spanked! Why didn't he swear and be
+done with it? I would have reproved him for his profanity, of course.
+Profanity in young persons is a thing I will not tolerate; Simmons
+will tell you so. But it would have cleared the air. If he had done
+that, we'd have been laughing about it, now;--he and I, together." The
+old man suddenly put both hands over his face, and a broken sound came
+from behind them.
+
+Dr. Lavendar shook his head, speechlessly.
+
+"What's the matter with you?" cried Benjamin Wright, pulling off his
+hat and banging it down on the table so fiercely that the crown
+collapsed on one side like an accordion. "Good God! Can't you see the
+tomfoolery of this business of thirty-two years of hurt feelings?"
+
+Dr. Lavendar was silent.
+
+"What! You excuse him? When I was young, parsons believed in the Ten
+Commandments; 'Honor thy father and thy mother--'"
+
+"There is another scripture which saith, 'Fathers, provoke not your
+children to wrath.' And when it comes to the Commandments, I would
+commend the third to your attention. As for Samuel, you robbed him."
+
+"Robbed him?"
+
+"You took his self-respect. A young man's dignity, at twenty-four, is
+as precious to him as a woman's modesty. You stole it. Yes; you robbed
+him. Our Heavenly Father doesn't do that, when He punishes us. We lose
+our dignity ourselves; but He never robs us of it. Did ye ever notice
+that? Well; you robbed Samuel. My--my--_my!_" Dr. Lavendar sighed
+wearily. For, indeed, the matter looked very dark. Here was the moment
+he had prayed for--the readiness of one or the other of the two men to
+take the first step towards reconciliation. Such readiness, he had
+thought, would mean the healing of the dreadful wound, whatever it
+was; forgiveness on the father's part of some terrible wrong-doing,
+forgiveness on the son's part of equally terrible hardness of heart.
+Instead he found a cruel and ridiculous mortification, made permanent
+by thirty-two unpardoning years. Here was no sin to command the
+dreadful dignity of repentance, with its divine response of
+forgiveness. The very lack of seriousness in the cause made the effect
+more serious. He looked over at the older man, and shook his head....
+How could they pay their debts to each other, this father and son?
+Could Benjamin Wright return the self-respect he had stolen away?
+Could Samuel offer that filial affection which should have blessed all
+these empty years? A wickedly ludicrous memory forbade the solemnity
+of a reconciliation: below any attempt the father might make, there
+would be a grin, somewhere; below any attempt the son might make,
+there would be a cringe, somewhere. The only possible hope was in
+absolute, flat commonplace. Play-writing, as a subject of
+conversation, was out of the question!
+
+"Benjamin," he said with agitation, "I thank God that you are willing
+to see Samuel; but you must promise me not to refer to Sam's play. You
+must promise me this, or the last end of the quarrel will be worse
+than the first."
+
+"I haven't said I was willing to see him," Mr. Wright broke out; "I'm
+_not_ willing! Is it likely that I would hanker after an interview?
+All I want is to get the boy away from Old Chester; to 'see the
+world.' His--father ought to sympathize with that! Yes; to get him
+away, I would even--But if you will tell his--relatives, that in my
+judgment, he ought to go away, that is all that is necessary."
+
+"No! You must urge it yourself," Dr. Lavendar said eagerly. "Put it on
+the ground of calf-love, if you want to. I'll tell Samuel you want to
+get Sam out of town because you're afraid he's falling in love with
+Mrs. Richie; and you'd like to consult him about it."
+
+But the old man began a scrabbling retreat. "No! No!" he said, putting
+on his hat with shaking hands. "No, don't tell anybody anything. I'll
+find some other way out of it. Let it go. Seeing his--relatives is a
+last resource. If they are so virtuous as to object to plays, I'll try
+something else. Object?" he repeated, "Gad-a-mercy! My discipline was
+successful!" He grinned wickedly.
+
+Dr. Lavendar made no reply. The interview had been a strain, and he
+got up a little feebly. Benjamin Wright, as he saw him to the door,
+swore again at some misdemeanor on the part of Simmons, but was not
+rebuked.
+
+The old minister climbed into his buggy, and told Goliath to "g'long."
+As he passed the Stuffed Animal House, he peered through the little
+dusty window of the hood; but David was not in sight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+"I think," said Dr. Lavendar, as he and Goliath came plodding into
+Old Chester in the May dusk, "I think I'll go and see Willy. He'll
+tell me how much Sam's love-making amounts to."
+
+His mind was on the matter to such an extent that he hardly heard
+Mary's anxious scolding because he looked tired, but his preoccupation
+lifted at supper, in the consciousness of how lonely he was without
+David. He really wanted to get out of the house and leave the
+loneliness behind him. So after tea he put on his broad-brimmed felt
+hat and tied a blue muffler around his throat--Dr. Lavendar felt the
+cold a good deal; he said it was because the seasons were changing--
+and walked wearily over to Dr. King's house. That talk with Benjamin
+Wright had told on him.
+
+"Well," he said, as the doctor's wife opened the door, "how are you,
+Martha?"
+
+"Very tired," said Mrs. King. "And dear me, Dr. Lavendar, you look
+tired yourself. You're too old to do so much, sir. Come in and sit
+down."
+
+"I'll sit down," said Dr. Lavendar, dropping into a chair in the
+parlor; "but don't flatter yourself, Martha, that you'll ever be as
+young as I am!" ("He _is_ failing," Mrs. King told her husband
+afterwards. "He gets his words all mixed up. He says 'young' when he
+means 'old.' Isn't that a sign of something, William?" "It's a sign of
+grace," said the doctor shortly.)
+
+  "I want Willy to come over and give my Mary a pill," Dr. Lavendar
+explained. "She is as cross as a bear, and cross people are generally
+sick people--although I suppose that's Mary's temperament," he added
+sighing.
+
+Martha shook her head. "In my judgment _temperament_ is just another
+word for temper: I don't believe in making excuses for it. That's a
+great trick of William's, I'm sorry to say."
+
+"I should have thought you'd have cured him of it by this time?" Dr.
+Lavendar murmured; and then he asked if the doctor was out.
+
+"Oh, yes," said Mrs. King, dryly; "Willy always manages to get out in
+the evening on one excuse or another. You'd think he'd be glad of a
+restful evening at home with me, sometimes. But no. William's patients
+need a surprising amount of attention, though his bills don't show it
+When Mrs. Richie's cook was sick--just as an instance--he went six
+times to see her. I counted."
+
+"Well; she got well?"' said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"Got well? She'd have got well if he hadn't gone near her." Martha
+began to stroke the gathers on a bit of cambric with a precise needle
+that suddenly trembled. "The woman herself was not to blame it's only
+just to say that--And there's one thing about me, Dr, Lavendar; I may
+not be perfect, but I am always just. No, she was not to blame; it was
+Mrs. Richie who sent for William. She is the most helpless woman I
+ever saw, for her years;--she is at least forty, though she uses
+sachet-powders, and wears undersleeves all trimmed with lace, as if
+she were six teen! I don't want to find fault, Dr, Lavendar, but I
+must say that _I_ wouldn't have trusted that little boy to her."
+
+"Oh," said Dr, Lavendar, "I trusted _her_ to the little boy! She'll be
+so busy looking after his sleeves, she'll forget her own."
+
+Mrs. King sniffed, doubtfully. "I'm sure I hope you are right; but in
+my opinion, she's a very helpless and foolish woman;--if nothing
+worse. Though according to my ideas, the way she lets Sam Wright's Sam
+behave is worse!"
+
+Dr. Lavendar was suddenly attentive, "How does she let him behave?"
+
+"Well, he is so daft over--her that he neglects his work at the bank
+to write verses. Why doesn't she stop it?'"
+
+"Because," said William King, appearing in the doorway, smelling
+honestly of the barn and picking off a straw here and there from his
+sleeve; "she knows nothing about it,"
+
+Dr. Lavendar and Martha both looked up, startled at his tone.
+
+"Women," said the doctor, "would gossip about a--a clam!"
+
+"I am not gossiping?" Martha defended herself; but Dr. Lavendar
+interrupted her, cheerfully,
+
+"Well, I am, I came over to gossip with William on this very
+subject.--Martha, will you let him put a match to that grate? I declare,
+the seasons are changing. When I was your age it wasn't cold enough
+to have a fire in May.--Look here, Willy, what do you mean by saying
+Mrs. Richie doesn't know Sam's sentiments?"
+
+"I mean that women like Mrs. Richie are so unconscious, they don't see
+things like that. She's as unconscious as a girl."
+
+"Tck!" said Martha.
+
+"A girl!" said Dr, Lavendar.--"Say a tree, or a boy but don't say a
+girl. Why, William, everybody sees it. Even Benjamin Wright. Of course
+she knows it."
+
+"She doesn't; she isn't the kind that thinks of things like that. Of
+course, some women would have discovered it months ago; one of your
+strong-minded ladies, perhaps--only Sam wouldn't have been spoony on
+that kind."
+
+"Well!" said Martha, "I must say, flat--"
+
+But William interrupted her--"To prove what I say: she lets him come
+in and bore her to death, just out of kindness. Do you suppose she
+would do that if she knew he was such an idiot as to presume to--to--"
+
+"Well," said Dr. Lavendar, "as there is so much ignorance about,
+perhaps Sam doesn't know he's lost his heart?"
+
+But at that William laughed, "_He_ knows; Trust a young fellow!
+That's just the difference between a man and a woman, sir; the man
+always knows; the woman, if she's the right kind, doesn't--until she's
+told."
+
+"Tck!" said Martha,
+
+Dr. Lavendar looked down at the bowl of his pipe then he said meekly,
+"I was under the impression that Eve ate her apple before Adam had so
+much as a bite. Still, whether Mrs. Richie knows the state of Sam's
+affections or not, I do wish she would urge him to put his mind on his
+work. That's what I came in to speak to you about. His father is all
+on edge about it, and now his grandfather has taken it into his head
+to be worried over it, too But you know her better than the rest of us
+do, and I thought perhaps you'd drop a hint that she would be doing
+missionary work if she'd influence the boy to be more industrious."
+
+"I'll go and talk it over with her," Martha volunteered. "I am always
+ready to advise any one."
+
+William King got up and kicked at a lump of coal in the grate. "I am
+sure you are," he said dryly; "but no talking over is necessary., I
+shall probably be going up the hill in a few days, and I'll say a word
+if Dr. Lavendar wants me to. Nothing definite; just enlist her
+sympathy for his father--and get her to protect herself, too. He must
+be an awful nuisance."
+
+"That's it!" said Dr. Lavendar. "I'd do it myself, but you know her
+better than I do. I'm getting acquainted with her through David. David
+is really a remarkable child! I can't tell you how I miss him." And
+then he began to relate David's sayings, while Martha sewed fiercely,
+and William stared at the hearth-rug "The little rascal is no Peter
+Grievous," Dr Lavendar declared, proudly; and told a story of a badly
+barked knee, and a very stiff upper-lip; "and the questions he asks!"
+said the old man, holding up both hands; "theological questions; the
+House of Bishops couldn't answer 'em!" He repeated some of the
+questions, watching the husband and wife with swift glances over his
+spectacles; when he had wrung a reluctant laugh from the doctor, and
+Mrs., King was not sewing so fast, he went home, not much rested by
+his call.
+
+But the result of the call was that at the end of the week Dr. King
+went up to the Stuffed Animal House.
+
+"We are shipwrecked!" cried Mrs. Richie, as she saw him coming down
+the garden path towards the barn. Her face was flushed and gay, and
+her hair, shaken from its shining wreath around her head, hung in two
+braids down her back. She had had a swing put up under the big
+buttonwood beside the stable, and David, climbing into it, had clung
+to the rigging to be dashed, side wise, on to the rocks of the
+carriageway, where Mrs. Richie stood ready to catch him when the
+vessel should drive near enough to the shore. In an endeavor to save
+himself from some engulfing sea which his playmate had pointed out to
+him, David had clutched at her, breaking the top hook of her gown and
+tearing her collar apart, leaving throat, white and round, open to the
+hot sun. Before the doctor reached her, she caught her dress together,
+and twisted her hair into a knot. "You can't keep things smooth in a
+shipwreck," she excused herself, laughing.
+
+David sighed, and looked into the carriage-house. In that jungle--Mrs.
+Richie had called it a jungle--were wild beasts; there were also
+crackers and apples--or to be exact, breadfruit and citrons--hanging
+from what George called "harness-racks," though of course, as
+thoughtful persons know, they were trees; David was to gather these
+tropical spoils, and then escape from the leopard, the shark, the
+crocodile! And now there was Dr. King, spoiling everything.
+
+The doctor sat down on a keg and looked at the two, smiling. "Which is
+the younger of you?" he said. It came over him, in a gust of
+amusement, what Martha would say to such a scene, and he laughed
+aloud.
+
+"Dr. King," said David, in a small distinct voice, "won't Jinny run
+away, if you leave her so long at gate?"
+
+"Oh, David!" cried Mrs. Richie, horrified. But the visitor threw back
+his head with a shout.
+
+"That's what my wife would call speaking 'flatly and frankly'! Well,
+Mrs. Richie, I never wrote a better prescription in my life. You look
+like a different woman, already."
+
+And, indeed, the youth in her face was as careless as David's own. But
+it flagged when he added that he hoped her brother would not think the
+care of David would be too much for her.
+
+"Oh, no," she said, briefly.
+
+"I feel like saying 'I told you so'! I knew you would like to have a
+child about."
+
+"I do, but he is a tyrant. Aren't you, David? I have to get up for
+breakfast!"
+
+"Terrible," said William delightedly.
+
+"Why, but it _is_. I don't know when I've done such a thing! At first
+I thought I really couldn't. But I couldn't leave him all by himself,
+down-stairs--could I, David?"
+
+"I'd just as lieves," said David, gently.
+
+"Oh, how like your sex!" Helena cried.
+
+"What do you suppose I've come for?" Dr. King began in the bantering
+tone one uses to a child. "I've come to get you to exert your
+influence to improve business. _Business!_" he repeated, delighted at
+his own absurdity; "a lady who finds it hard to get up in the
+mornings."
+
+She looked at him ruefully; "I'm lazy, I am afraid." "No, you're
+not--it's a very sensible thing to do, if you are not strong. Well, I
+must tell you what we want; Sam Wright is anxious, because young Sam
+neglects his work at the bank, and--"
+
+"But he doesn't like business," she explained with a surprised look;
+and William laughed with pleasure.
+
+"So that's a reason for not attending to it? Unfortunately, that's the
+young man's own point of view. He's a queer youngster," William added
+in his kind voice.
+
+"I don't think it's queer not to like disagreeable things," Helena
+said.
+
+"Well, no; but all the same, we've got to stand them. Sam has no
+patience with anything disagreeable. Why, when he was a little
+fellow--let me see, he was younger than David; about four, I think--he
+scratched his finger one day pretty severely; it smarted, I guess,
+badly. Anyway, he roared! Then he picked up a pair of scissors and ran
+bawling to his mother; 'Mamma, cut finger off! It hurts Sam--cut
+finger off!' That's been his principle ever since: 'it hurts--get rid
+of it.'"
+
+"I don't blame him in the least," Helena protested gayly; "I'm sure
+I've wanted to 'cut finger off.' And I have done it, too!"
+
+"Well," said the doctor with great pretence of gravity, "I suppose,
+then, we'll have to tell old Mr. Wright that nobody must ever do
+anything he doesn't want to do? It appears that he's worried, too,
+because the young gentleman isn't industrious. The fact is, he thinks
+Sam would rather come up here than work over his ledgers," he teased.
+
+Helena sprung to her feet, nervously. "But I wish he wouldn't come! I
+don't want him to come. I can't help it; indeed I--I can't help it!"
+She spoke with a sort of gasp. Instantly David, who had been lounging
+in the swing, slipped down and planted himself directly in front of
+her, his arms stretched out at each side. "I'll take care of you," he
+said protectingly.
+
+William King caught his breath. No one could have heard the frightened
+note in her voice without understanding David's impulse. The doctor
+shared it. Evidently Sam had been making love to her, and her very
+innocence made her quick to feel herself rebuked! William felt an
+ardent desire to kick Sam Wright's Sam.
+
+But Mrs. Richie was herself again; she laughed, though not quite
+naturally, and sat down in the swing, swaying slightly back and forth
+with an indolent push of her pretty foot. David lounged against her
+knee, eying the doctor with frank displeasure. "I am sure," she said,
+"I wish Sam would attend to his ledgers; it would be much better than
+making visits."
+
+"Dr. King," David said, gently, "I'll shake hands now, and say good-
+by."
+
+The laugh that followed changed the subject, although warm in
+William's consciousness the thought remained that she had let him know
+what the subject meant to her: he shared a secret with her! She had
+told him, indirectly perhaps, but still told him, of her troubles with
+young Sam. It was as if she had put out her hand and said, "Help me!"
+Inarticulately he felt what David had said, "I'll take care of you!"
+And his first care must be to make her forget what had distressed her.
+He said with the air of one imparting interesting information, that
+some time in the next fortnight he would probably go to Philadelphia
+on business. "Can I do any errands for you? Don't you ladies always
+want ribbons, or something."
+
+"Does Mrs. King let you buy ribbons for her?" Helena asked.
+
+"Ribbons! I am to buy yarn, and some particular brand of lye for
+soap."
+
+"Lye! How do you make soap out of lye?"
+
+"You save all the "--William hesitated for a sufficiently delicate
+word--"the--fat, you know, in the kitchen, and then you make soft
+soap."
+
+"Why! I didn't know that was how soap was made."
+
+"I'm glad you didn't," said William King. "I mean--it's disagreeable,"
+he ended weakly. And then, to David's open joy, he said good-by and
+jogged off down the hill, leaving Mrs. Richie to her new
+responsibilities of discipline.
+
+"Now, David, come here. I've got to scold you."
+
+David promptly climbed up into the swing and settled himself in her
+lap. Then he snuggled his little nose down into her neck. "I'm a
+bear," he announced. "I'm eating you. Now, you scream and I'll roar."
+
+"Oh, David, you little monkey! Listen to me: you weren't very polite
+to Dr. King."
+
+"O-o-o-o-o-o!" roared the bear.
+
+"You should make him feel you were glad to see him."
+
+"I wasn't," mumbled David.
+
+"But you must have manners, dear little boy."
+
+"I have," David defended himself, sitting up straight. "I have them in
+my head; but I only use them sometimes."
+
+Upon which the disciplinarian collapsed; "You rogue!" she said; "come
+here, and I'll give you 'forty kisses'!"
+
+David was instantly silent; he shrank away, lifting his shoulder
+against his cheek and looking at her shyly. "I won't, dear!" she
+reassured him, impetuously: "truly I won't."
+
+But she said to herself she must remember to repeat the speech about
+manners to the doctor; it would make him laugh.
+
+William laughed easily when he came to the Stuffed Animal House.
+Indeed, he had laughed when he went away from it, and stopped for a
+minute at Dr. Lavendar's to tell him that Mrs. Richie was just as
+anxious as anybody that Sam Wright should attend to his business.
+"_Business_!" said the doctor, "much she knows about it!" And then he
+added that he was sure she would do her part to influence the boy to
+be more industrious. "And you may depend on it, she won't allow any
+love-making," said William.
+
+He laughed again suddenly, out loud, as he ate his supper that night,
+because some memory of the after-noon came into his head. When Martha,
+starting at the unusual sound, asked what he was laughing at, he told
+her he had found Mrs. Richie playing with David Allison. "They were
+like two children; I said I didn't know which was the younger. They
+were pretending they were shipwrecked; the swing was the vessel, if
+you please!"
+
+"I suppose she was trying to amuse him," Mrs. King said. "That's a
+great mistake with children. Give a child a book, or put him down to
+some useful task; that's my idea."
+
+"Oh, she was amusing herself," William explained. Mrs. King was
+silent.
+
+"She gets up for breakfast now, on account of David; it's evidently a
+great undertaking!" the doctor said humorously.
+
+Martha held her lips hard together.
+
+"You ought to hear her housekeeping ideas," William rambled on. "I
+happened to say you wanted some lye for soap. She didn't know soap was
+made with lye! You would have laughed to hear her--"
+
+But at that the leash broke: "_Laughed_? I hope not! I hope I wouldn't
+laugh because a woman of her age has no more sense than a child. And
+she gets up for breakfast, does she? Well, why shouldn't she get up
+for breakfast? I am very tired, but I get up for breakfast. I don't
+mean to be severe, William, and I never am; I'm only just. But
+I must say, flatly and frankly, that ignorance and laziness do not
+seem _funny_ to me. Laugh? Would you laugh if I stayed in bed in
+the mornings, and didn't know how to make soap, and save your money
+for you? I guess not!"
+
+The doctor's face reddened and he closed his lips with a snap. But
+Martha found no more fault with Mrs. Richie. After a while she said in
+that virtuous voice familiar to husbands, "William, I know you don't
+like to do it, so I cleaned all the medicine-shelves in your office
+this morning."
+
+"Thank you," William said, curtly; and finished his supper in absolute
+silence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Dr. Lavendar was not sleeping very well that spring. He fell into the
+habit of waking at about three, just when the birds begin the
+scattered twittering that swells into full clamor and then dies
+suddenly into silence. In that gray stillness, broken by bird-calls,
+he used to occupy himself by thinking of his people.
+
+"The name of the large upper chamber, facing the east, was Peace." And
+so this old pilgrim found it, lying in his four-poster, listening to
+the cries and calls in the jargonelle pear-tree in the corner of the
+garden, and watching the ghostly oblong of the window that faced the
+east, glimmer and brighten into the effulgence of day. It was then,
+with his old hands folded on his breast, that he thought about the
+Wrights--all three of them....
+
+It was a relief to know that Mrs. Richie would influence Sam to put
+his mind on his work; if the boy would do that, his father would be
+less irritated with him. And William's assurance that she would not
+allow any love-making ought to end his grandfather's worry. But while
+that worry lasted it must be utilized....
+
+The room was slipping out of the shadows. Dr. Lavendar could see the
+outline of the window distinctly. The bureau loomed up in the grayness
+like a rock; opposite the bed, under a high wooden mantel was the
+cavernous blackness of the chimney, Dr. Lavendar reflected that it
+must be nearly four....
+
+The question was, when should he use this weapon of Benjamin Wright's
+worry, on the two hard hearts? He had made several attempts to use it,
+only to feel the blade turn in his hand: He had asked Mr. Wright when
+he was going to talk things over with Samuel, and the old man had
+instantly declared that he had changed his mind. He had mentioned to
+his senior warden that Benjamin was troubled about his grandson's
+sheep's-eyes, and Samuel's studied deafness had put an end to
+conversation. So Dr. Lavendar had made up his mind that a matter of
+this kind cannot be forced. A thirty-two-year-old wound is not to be
+healed in a day. He took any chance that offered to drop a suggestive
+word; but he did not try to hurry his Heavenly Father. For it was Dr.
+Lavendar's belief that God was more anxious about that reconciliation
+than he was....
+
+A line of light threaded its way under the window-curtain, and fell in
+a spot of fluid gold upon the mirror. He watched it move silently
+across the powdery surface: suddenly another dimpling pool appeared on
+the soot of the chimney-back, and his eye followed the tremulous beam
+to its entrance over the top of the shutter. The birds were shouting
+now in full voice. How fond Benjamin was of his poor caged creatures.
+Well, he had so little else to be fond of; "and I have so much,"
+thought Dr. Lavendar, shamefacedly;--"all my people. And David, the
+rascal!" Then he chuckled; Dr. Lavendar was under the delusion that he
+was unprejudiced in regard to David: "a very unusual child!" he
+assured himself, gravely. No wonder Mrs. Richie liked to have him.--
+And he would be the making of her! he would shake her out of her
+selfishness. "Poor girl, I guess, by the way she talks, she has never
+known anything but self. David will wake her up. But I've got to look
+out that she doesn't spoil him." It was this belief of what David
+might do for Mrs. Richie that had reconciled him to parting with the
+little boy.
+
+His eyes wandered to the window; a glittering strip of green light
+between the bowed shutters meant that the sun was in the trees. Yes;
+to be sure, for the birds had suddenly stopped singing.
+
+Dr. Lavendar yawned and looked at his watch; five o'clock. He would
+have liked to get up, but Mary would be worried if she knew he was
+awake so long before breakfast. Well; he must try to have a nap, no,
+the room was too light for that. He could see all the furniture; he
+could count the pleats in the sun-burst of the tester; he could,
+perhaps, see to read? He put his hand out for _Robinson Crusoe_,
+and after that he possessed his soul in patience until he knew that
+Mary would allow him to come down-stairs.
+
+It was in one of those peaceful dawns early in June that he decided
+that the moment had come to strike a decisive blow: he would go and
+talk to Benjamin of Sam's Sam, and though truth demanded that he
+should report Mrs. Richie's good sense he did not mean to insist upon
+it too much; Benjamin's anxiety was the Lord's opportunity--so Dr.
+Lavendar thought. He would admit Sam's sentimentality and urge putting
+the matter before his father. Then he would pin Benjamin down to a
+date. That secured, he would present a definite proposal to Samuel.
+"He is the lion in the way," he told himself anxiously; "I am pretty
+sure I can manage Benjamin." Yet surely if he could only put it
+properly to Samuel, if he could express the pitiful trouble in the old
+father's soul, the senior warden's heart would soften. "It must touch
+him!" Dr. Lavendar thought, and closed his eyes for a moment....
+
+When he said _Amen_, the bird-calls were like flutes of triumph.
+
+On his way up the hill that morning, he paused under a great chestnut
+to talk to David Allison, who, a strapful of books over his shoulder,
+was running down the path to school. David was willing to be detained;
+he pulled some grass for Goliath and told Dr. Lavendar that Mrs.
+Richie had bought him a pair of suspenders. "And I said a bad word
+yesterday," he ended proudly.
+
+"Well, now, I'm sorry to hear that."
+
+"It's been in me a good while," David explained, "but yesterday I said
+it. It was 'damn.'"
+
+"It's a foolish word, David; I never use it."
+
+"You _don't_?" David said blankly, and all his pride was gone.
+They parted with some seriousness; but Dr. Lavendar was still
+chuckling when he turned in at Benjamin Wright's neglected carriage
+road where burdocks and plantains grew rank between the wheel-tracks.
+As he came up to the house he saw Mr. Wright sitting out in the sun on
+the gravel of the driveway, facing his veranda. A great locust was
+dropping its honey-sweet blossoms all about--on his bent shoulders, on
+his green cashmere dressing-gown, on his shrunken knees, even one or
+two on the tall beaver hat. A dozen bird-cages had been placed in a
+row along the edge of the veranda, and he was nibbling orange-skin and
+watching the canaries twittering and hopping on their perches. As he
+heard the wheels of the buggy, he looked around, and raised a
+cautioning hand:
+
+"Look out! You scare my birds. Rein in that mettlesome steed of yours!
+That green cock was just going to take a bath."
+
+Goliath stopped at a discreet distance, and Dr. Lavendar sat still.
+There was a breathless moment of awaiting the pleasure of the green
+cock, who, balancing on the edge of his tub, his head on one side,
+looked with inquisitive eyes at the two old men before deciding to
+return to his perch and attack the cuttle-fish stuck between the bars
+of his cage. Upon which Mr. Wright swore at him with proud affection,
+and waved his hand to his visitor.
+
+"Come on! Sorry I can't take you indoors. I have to sit out here and
+watch these confounded fowls for fear a cat will come along. There's
+not a soul I can trust to attend to it, so I have to waste my valuable
+time. Sit down."
+
+Dr. Lavendar clambered out of the buggy, and came up to the porch
+where he was told to "_'Sh!_" while Mr. Wright held his breath to
+see if the green cock would not bathe, after all.
+
+"That nigger of mine is perfectly useless. Look at that perch! Hasn't
+been cleaned for a week."
+
+"Yes, suh; cleaned yesterday, suh," Simmons murmured, hobbling up with
+a handful of chickweed which he arranged on the top of one of the
+cages, its faint faded smell mingling with the heavy fragrance of the
+locust blossoms.
+
+"Whiskey!" Mr. Wright commanded.
+
+"Not for me," said Dr. Lavendar; and there was the usual snarl, during
+which Simmons disappeared. The whiskey was not produced.
+
+"Lavendar, look at that cock--the scoundrel understands every word we
+say."
+
+"He does look knowing. Benjamin, I just dropped in to tell you that I
+think you needn't worry so about Sam's Sam. Your neighbor has promised
+Willy King that she will help us with him. But I want you to talk the
+matter over with Samuel, and--" "My _neighbor?_" the older man
+interrupted, his lower lip dropping with dismay. "Ye don't mean--the
+female at the Stuffed Animal House?"
+
+"Yes; Mrs. Richie. She will snub him if it's necessary, William says;
+but she'll help us, by urging him to attend to his business. See?"
+
+"I see--more than you do!" cried Benjamin Wright. "Much Willy King has
+accomplished! It's just what I've always said;--if you want a thing
+done, do it yourself. It's another case of these confounded canaries.
+If they are not to be eaten up by some devilish cat, I've got to sit
+out here and watch over 'em. If that boy is not to be injured, I've
+got to watch over him. My neighbor is going to help? Gad-a-mercy!
+Help!"
+
+Dr. Lavendar took off his broad-brimmed felt hat and wiped his
+forehead with his big red bandanna. "Benjamin, what's got into you? A
+little being in love won't hurt him. Why, before I was his age I had
+lost my heart to my grandmother's first cousin!"
+
+But the older man was not listening. His anger had suddenly hardened
+into alarm; he even forgot the canaries. "She's going to help?
+Lavendar, this is serious; it is very serious. He's got to be sent
+away!--if I have to see"--his voice trailed into a whisper; he looked
+at Dr. Lavendar with startled eyes.
+
+The green cock hopped down into his glass tub and began to ruffle and
+splash, but Benjamin Wright did not notice him. Dr. Lavendar beamed.
+"You mean you'll see his father?"
+
+The very old man nodded. "Yes; I'll have to see--my son."
+
+"Thank God!" said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"Dominie," said Mr. Wright, "it's better to make your manners when
+you've got your 'baccy.' Yes; I'll have to see--his father; if there's
+no other way of getting him out of town?"
+
+"Of course there's no other way. Sam won't go without his father's
+consent. But you mustn't make play-writing the excuse; you mustn't
+talk about that."
+
+"I won't talk about anything else," said Benjamin Wright.
+
+Dr. Lavendar sighed, but he did not encourage perversity by arguing
+against it. "Benjamin," he said, "I will tell Samuel of your wish to
+see him--"
+
+"My _wish!_"
+
+Dr. Lavendar would not notice the interruption. "Will you appoint the
+time?"
+
+"Oh, the sooner the better; get through with it! Get through with it!"
+He stared at his visitor and blinked rapidly; a moment later he shook
+all over. "Lavendar, it will kill me!" He was very frail, this
+shrunken old man in the green dressing-gown and high beaver hat, with
+his lower lip sucked in like a frightened child's. The torch of life,
+blown so often into furious flame by hurricanes of rage, had consumed
+itself, and it seemed now as if its flicker might be snuffed out by
+any slightest gust. "He may come up to-night," he mumbled, shivering
+in the hot sunshine and the drift of locust blossoms, as if he were
+cold.
+
+"It can't be to-night; he's gone out West. He gets back Saturday. I'll
+send him up Sunday evening--if I can."
+
+"Gad-a-mercy, Lavendar," Benjamin Wright said whimpering, "you've got
+to come, too!" He looked at his old friend with scared eyes. "I won't
+go to the gate with you. Can't leave these birds. I'm a slave to 'em."
+
+But Dr. Lavendar saw that shaking legs were the real excuse; and he
+went away a little soberly in spite of his triumph. Would there be any
+danger to Benjamin from the agitation of the interview? He must ask
+Willy King. Then he remembered that the doctor had started for
+Philadelphia that morning; so there was nothing to do but wait. "I'm
+afraid there's some risk," he thought. "But Benjamin had better die in
+peace than live in anger. Oh, this play-writing business! If I could
+only depend on him to hold his tongue about it; but I can't." Then as
+he and Goliath trudged along in the sun, he gave himself up to his own
+rejoicings. "To think I was afraid to let him know that Mrs. Richie
+could be depended upon to help us!" He looked up as if in smiling
+confession to some unseen Friend. "Yes, indeed; 'He taketh the wise in
+their own craftiness.' It was the promise of Mrs. Richie's help that
+scared him into it! I won't be so crafty next time," he promised in
+loving penitence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+In the stage the day he started for Philadelphia, William King read
+over his Martha's memorandum with the bewildered carefulness peculiar
+to good husbands: ten yards of crash; a pitcher for sorghum; samples
+of yarn; an ounce of sachet-powder, and so forth.
+
+"Now, what on earth does she want sachet-powder for?" he reflected.
+But he did not reflect long; it suddenly came into his mind that
+though Mrs. Richie had not given him any commission, he could
+nevertheless do something for her. He could go, when he was in
+Philadelphia, and call on her brother. "How pleased she'll be!" he
+said to himself. Naturally, with this project in mind, he gave no more
+thought to sachet-powders. He decided that he would turn up at Mr.
+Pryor's house at six o'clock, and Pryor would ask him to supper. It
+would save time to do that, and he needed to save time, for this one
+day in Philadelphia was to be very busy. He had those errands for
+Martha, and two medical appointments, and a visit to the tailor,--for
+of late William thought a good deal about his clothes and discovered
+that he was very shabby. He wished he had asked Mrs. Richie for her
+brother's address; it took so long to look it up in the Directory.
+Happily, the first name was unusual; there was only one Lloyd, or he
+would have given up the search. He could not have called on all the
+Johns or Thomases!
+
+What with matching the yarn, and getting his drugs, and being terribly
+cowed by the tailor, William had a hurried day. However, he managed to
+reach Mr. Lloyd Pryor's house as the clock struck six. "Just in good
+time," he said to himself, complacently. Indeed, he was ahead of time,
+for it appeared that Mr. Pryor had not yet come home.
+
+"But Miss Alice is in, sir," the smiling darky announced.
+
+"Very well," said William King; "tell her 'Dr. King, from Old
+Chester.'" He followed the man into a parlor that seemed to the
+country doctor very splendid, and while he waited, he looked about
+with artless curiosity, thinking that he must tell Martha of all this
+grandeur. "No wonder she thinks we are stupid people in Old Chester,"
+he thought. Now, certainly Martha had never had so disloyal a thought!
+At that moment he heard a girlish step, and Lloyd Pryor's daughter
+came into the room,--a pretty young creature, with blond hair parted
+over a candid brow, and sweet, frank eyes.
+
+"Dr. King?" she said smiling.
+
+"Doesn't resemble her in the least," the doctor thought, getting on
+his feet, and putting out a friendly, hand. "I am just in from Old
+Chester," he said, "and I thought I'd come and say how-do-you-do to
+your father, and tell you the latest news of Mrs. Richie--"
+
+The front door banged, and Lloyd Pryor pushed aside the curtain.--
+William had wondered what Martha would say to a curtain instead of a
+door! His blank panic as he heard the doctor's last word, turned his
+face white. ("Bad heart?" William asked himself.)
+
+"_Dr. King!_ Alice, you needn't wait."
+
+Alice, nodding pleasantly, left them, and her father, setting his
+teeth, looked out through his curling eyelashes with deadly
+intentness.
+
+"Thought I'd come in and say how-do-you-do?" William King said, hungry
+and friendly, but a little bewildered.
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Pryor.
+
+William put out his hand; there was a second's hesitation, then Lloyd
+Pryor took it--and dropped it quickly.
+
+"All well?" the doctor asked awkwardly.
+
+"Yes; yes. All well. Very well, thank you. Yes."
+
+"I was just passing. I thought perhaps your sister would be pleased if
+I inquired; she didn't know I was coming, but--"
+
+"You are very kind, I'm sure," the other broke in, his face relaxing.
+"I am sorry that just at this moment I can't ask you to stay, but--"
+
+"Certainly not," William King said shortly; "I was just passing. If
+you have any message for Mrs. Richie--"
+
+"Oh! Ah;--yes. Remember me to her. All well in Old Chester? Very kind
+in you to look me up. I am sorry I--that it happens that--good-by--"
+
+Dr. King nodded and took himself off; and Lloyd Pryor, closing the
+door upon him, wiped the moisture from his forehead. "Alice, where are
+you?"
+
+"In the dining-room, daddy dear," she said. "Who is Dr. King?"
+
+He gave her a furtive look and then put his arm over her shoulder.
+"Nobody you know, Kitty."
+
+"He said something about 'Mrs. Richie';--who is Mrs. Richie?"
+
+"Some friend of his, probably. Got anything good for dinner,
+sweetheart?"
+
+As for William King, he walked briskly down the street, his face very
+red. "Confound him!" he said. He was conscious of a desire to kick
+something. That evening, after a bleak supper at a marble-topped
+restaurant table, he tried to divert himself by going to see a play;
+he saw so many other things that he came out in the middle of it. "I
+guess I can get all the anatomy I want in my trade," he told himself;
+and sat down in the station to await the midnight train.
+
+It was not until the next afternoon, when he climbed into the stage at
+Mercer and piled his own and Martha's bundles on the rack above him,
+that he really settled down to think the thing over.... What did it
+mean? The man had been willing to eat his bread; he had shown no
+offence at anything; what the deuce--! He pondered over it, all the
+way to Old Chester. When Martha, according to the custom of wives,
+inquired categorically concerning his day in Philadelphia, he dragged
+out most irritatingly vague answers. As she did not chance to ask,
+"Did you hunt up Mr. Lloyd Pryor? Did you go to his house? Did you
+expect an invitation and not receive it?" she was not informed on
+these topics. But when at last she did say, "And my sachet-powder?" he
+was compelled to admit that he had forgotten it.
+
+Martha's lip tightened.
+
+"I got the lye and stuff," her husband defended himself. "And what did
+you want sachet-powder for, anyway?"
+
+But Martha was silent.
+
+After supper William strolled over to Dr. Lavendar's, and sat smoking
+stolidly for an hour before he unbosomed himself. Dr. Lavendar did not
+notice his uncommunicativeness; he had his own preoccupations.
+
+"William, Benjamin Wright seems to be a good deal shaken this spring?"
+
+Silence.
+
+"He's allowed himself to grow old. Bad habit."
+
+Silence.
+
+"Got out of the way of doing things. Hasn't walked down the hill and
+back for three years. He told me so himself."
+
+"Indeed, sir?"
+
+"For my part," Dr. Lavendar declared, "I have made a rule about such
+things, which I commend to you, young man: _As soon as you feel too
+old to do a thing_, DO IT!"
+
+William gave the expected laugh.
+
+"But he does seem shaken. Now, would it be safe, do you think, for him
+to--well, very much excited? Possibly angered?"
+
+"It wouldn't take much to anger Mr. Wright."
+
+"No, it wouldn't," Dr. Lavendar admitted. "William, suppose I could
+induce Samuel and his father to meet--"
+
+"What!" The doctor woke up at that; he sat on the edge of his chair,
+his hands on his knees, his eyes starting in his head. "_What!_"
+
+"Well, suppose I could?" Dr. Lavendar said. "I have a notion to try
+it. I don't know that I'll succeed. But suppose they met, and things
+shouldn't run smoothly, and there should be an explosion--would there
+be danger to Benjamin?"
+
+William King whistled. "After all these years!" Then he reflected.
+"Well, of course, sir, he is an old man. But he is like iron, Dr.
+Lavendar. When he had quinsy two years ago, I thought he had come to
+the end. Not a bit of it! He's iron. Only, of course, anger is a great
+drain. Better caution Sam not to cross him."
+
+"Then there would be some danger?"
+
+"I shouldn't like to see him get into a rage," the doctor admitted.
+"But why should he get into a rage, if they are going to patch things
+up? Good Lord!" said William King, gaping with astonishment; "at
+last!"
+
+"I haven't said they would patch things up. But there is a chance that
+I can get 'em to talk over Benjamin's anxiety about Sam's Sam. Fact
+is, Benjamin is disturbed about the boy's sheep's-eyes. Sam thinks,
+you know, that he is in love with Mrs. Richie, and--"
+
+"In love with Mrs. Richie!" William broke in angrily. "The idea of his
+bothering Mrs. Richie! it's outrageous. I don't wonder Mr. Wright is
+concerned. It's disgraceful. He ought to be thrashed!"
+
+Dr. Lavendar drew a quick breath and let his pipe-hand fall heavily on
+the table beside him. "No, William, no; not thrashed. Not thrashed,
+William."
+
+"Well, I don't know," the doctor said, doggedly; "it might do him
+good; a squirt of a boy!"
+
+Dr. Lavendar sighed. They smoked silently for a while, and, indeed, it
+was not until it was almost time to go home that William burst out
+with his own wrongs.
+
+"Confound him!" he ended, "what do you make of it, sir? Why, Dr.
+Lavendar, he sent his girl out of the room--didn't want her to talk to
+me! You'd have thought I was a case of measles. His one idea was to
+get rid of me as quickly as possible."
+
+Dr. Lavendar thrust out his lower lip; then he scratched a match on
+the bottom of his chair, and held it out to Danny, who came forward
+with instant curiosity, sniffed, sneezed, and plainly hurt, retired to
+the hearth-rug.
+
+"William, 'a moral, sensible and well-bred man will not affront--'"
+
+"I'm not feeling affronted."
+
+"Oh, aren't you?"
+
+"No," William declared boldly, "not at all; not in the least! He's not
+worth it. But I'm all mixed up."
+
+"Daniel," said Dr. Lavendar, "how dare you lie on the rug? Willy, when
+I was young--I mean when I was younger--we children were never allowed
+to come nearer the fire than the outside edge of the hearth-rug. I
+feel wicked now, whenever I come over that edge. But look at that
+scoundrel Danny!"
+
+Danny opened one eye and beat his stub of a tail softly on the rug.
+William King was silent. Dr. Lavendar began to sing:
+
+  "Queen Victoria's very sick;
+  Napoleon's got the measles.
+  Why don't you take Sebastopol?
+  Pop goes the weasel!"
+
+"Dr. Lavendar, why do you keep trying to change the subject? What do
+you think about Mrs. Richie's brother?"
+
+"Well, Willy, my boy, I think he's not given to hospitality."
+
+"Ah, now, no shenanigan!" poor William pleaded. "Do you suppose he's
+up to some monkey-shines? Do you suppose I took him unawares, and he
+was afraid to entertain me?"
+
+Dr. Lavendar chuckled. "'Fraid he might entertain a Recording Angel
+unawares?"
+
+William shook his head. "There was something wrong, or I don't know
+human nature."
+
+"Willy, if you do know human nature, you are the only living man who
+does. But, perhaps, now, it really wasn't convenient?"
+
+"Convenient!" William burst out. "In Old Chester we don't talk about
+_convenience_ when a man knocks at the door at supper-time!"
+
+"But Philadelphia isn't Old Chester," Dr. Lavendar reminded him,
+mildly. "When you've seen as much of the world as I have, you'll
+realize that. I once was short of my railroad fare in New York. I--
+well, a poor creature asked me for some money to buy a coat. It was a
+dreadfully cold day. It left me just three dollars short of my fare
+home; so I stepped into the Bible House--you know the Bible House?--
+and just stated the case to the head clerk, and said I would be
+obliged if he would lend me the amount. Willy," Dr. Lavendar got very
+red; "I assure you--"
+
+"You don't say so, sir!" said William King respectfully; but he bent
+down and pulled Danny's ear.
+
+"Yes," said Dr. Lavendar; "yes, indeed! I will not repeat what he
+said; you would be indignant. I just mention the circumstance to show
+you how differently people look at things. If any gentleman got into
+such a fix in Old Chester, of course he would just speak to Sam
+Wright, or you, or me. Or take your own case; if any stranger came on
+business at dinner-time, you would say, 'Sit down, sir'!"
+
+William thought of Martha and moved uneasily in his chair.
+
+"But," proceeded Dr. Lavendar, "it is not so everywhere. Convenience
+is considered. It isn't hospitable; but you can't say it's wicked?"
+
+"Dr. Lavendar," said William King, "you don't believe that was the
+reason."
+
+The old minister sighed. "I'm afraid I don't, my boy; but I thought
+maybe you might."
+
+"No, sir! There's something wrong with that fellow. I don't mean to
+judge, but somehow, instinctively, I don't trust him."
+
+"Well," said Dr. Lavendar; "I wouldn't judge; but--I'd trust my
+instincts."
+
+William grinned; then he sighed. "I won't tell Mrs. Richie about
+seeing him. She'd be mortified at his behavior. If she knew as much of
+the wickedness of the world as we do, she might even be suspicious!
+But, thank God, she's not that kind of a woman. I don't like worldly-
+wise ladies."
+
+Dr. Lavendar nodded. "Black sheep can pull the wool over people's eyes
+better than white ones can. Do you know, one reason why I hesitated
+about letting her have David, was just because I didn't take to her
+brother? For that matter, David doesn't take to him either;--and Danny
+can't abide him. And William, I have a great respect for the judgment
+of my betters in such matters! Yes; I almost kept the little monkey
+myself; but I suppose it's better for him to be with a woman?"
+
+"Of course it is," said William King, and Dr. Lavendar's face fell. "I
+think she wants to adopt him," William added.
+
+Dr. Lavendar shook his head. "I haven't made up my mind about that
+yet. Not only because of the brother;--he comes so rarely he doesn't
+count. But I want to make sure she can be trusted to bring a child
+up."
+
+"I don't think there could be a better person," the doctor declared,
+warmly. "She has a lovely nature."
+
+"A pretty creature," Dr. Lavendar ruminated; "Martha fond of her?"
+
+"Oh, yes indeed," William said enthusiastically;--"at least, I don't
+know that I ever happened to hear her speak of it; but of course she
+is. Nobody could help it. She is a sweet woman, as you say."
+
+"Well," said Dr. Lavendar, "get Martha to be neighborly with her. She
+needs neighboring. And Martha could teach her so many things--she's
+such a sensible woman."
+
+"Yes; Martha is sensible," William agreed. "Dr. Lavendar, did you ever
+notice how, when she laughs, she has a way of putting her hands on the
+top of her head, and sort of drawing them down over her eyes like a
+girl? It's as pretty!"
+
+Dr. Lavendar tried to remember. "Why, no," he said; "I don't know that
+I ever noticed it. Martha doesn't laugh very often."
+
+"Martha?" William repeated puzzled. "Oh--I was speaking of Mrs.
+Richie."
+
+"Oh," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+Every Sunday morning Mr. Samuel Wright and Mr. Thomas Dilworth--the
+one pale and pompous, the other rosy and smiling--took up the
+collection in St. Michael's. A mahogany pole with a black velvet pouch
+on one end, was thrust solemnly into each pew, then drawn back with
+very personal pauses--which were embarrassing if you had forgotten to
+put some change into your glove before starting for church. When these
+poles had raked every pew, they were carried up the aisle to Dr.
+Lavendar, who, taking hold of the purple tassel on the bottom of each
+bag, turned the contents into a silver plate. The change came out with
+a fine clatter; we children used to keep awake on purpose to hear it.
+Once in a while a bill would rustle out with the silver and balance on
+the top. of the little heap in such an exciting way that Dr. Lavendar
+had to put his hand over it to keep it from blowing off as he carried
+the plate to the communion-table--we did not say "altar" in Old
+Chester. This done, Mr. Wright and Mr. Dilworth would tiptoe solemnly
+back to their respective pews. When the service was over the senior
+warden always counted the money. On this summer Sunday morning, when
+he went into the vestry for that purpose, he found Dr. Lavendar just
+hanging up his black gown behind the door.
+
+"Dr. Lavendar," said the senior warden, "you will, I am sure, be
+pleased when I inform you that there is a good collection. Mrs. Richie
+put in a five-dollar bill."
+
+"Well," said Dr. Lavendar, "we need it. Your father sent me a check
+the other day; but we need some more."
+
+Mr. Wright did not comment upon his father's generosity; instead, he
+slid the money from the silver plate on to the table and began to
+count it. Dr. Lavendar looked at him over his spectacles; when only
+half a dozen coppers were left, he said suddenly:
+
+"Samuel!"
+
+The senior warden looked up; "Yes, sir?"
+
+"Samuel, your father has spoken to me of you."
+
+Mr. Wright looked down; then he slowly picked up the last penny.
+
+"Yes; he spoke of you. Samuel, I have something to say to you of a
+very serious nature."
+
+"We have nine dollars and seventy-seven cents," said the senior
+warden.
+
+"Your father," said Dr. Lavendar, "has expressed a willingness to see
+you."
+
+Mr. Wright put the money into a small canvas bag, and pulling the
+drawing-string up, wound it round and round the top; his hands
+trembled.
+
+"He has some concern about your Sam--as you have yourself. He is
+disturbed because the boy has lost his heart to your tenant, Mrs.
+Richie."
+
+"Call it twelve dollars," Samuel said, embarrassed to the point of
+munificence. He put the canvas bag in his pocket, and rose. "I'll
+deposit this to-morrow, sir," he added, as he had added every Sunday
+morning for the last twenty years.
+
+"Samuel," said Dr. Lavendar, sternly, "sit down!"
+
+With involuntary haste the senior warden sat down, but he would not
+look at Dr. Lavendar. "It is not my purpose or desire," he said, "to
+be disrespectful, but I must request you, sir--"
+
+"To mind my own business? I will, Sam, I will. My business is to
+admonish you: _Leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy
+way. First, be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy
+gift._"
+
+Samuel Wright cleared his throat. "I cannot, Dr. Lavendar, discuss
+this matter with you. I must be my own judge."
+
+"I have heard that a man might be his own lawyer," said Dr. Lavendar,
+smiling; "but you can't be your own judge. The Christian religion
+judges you. Samuel, and convicts you. Your father is willing to see
+you; he has taken the first step. Think what that means to a man like
+your father! Now listen to me; I want to tell you what it's all
+about."
+
+"I have no desire, sir, to be informed. I--"
+
+Dr. Lavendar checked him gently: "I am sure you will listen, Samuel,
+no matter what your decision may be." Then, very cautiously, he began
+about young Sam. "Your father thinks he ought to get away from Old
+Chester; he's worried because of Mrs. Richie."
+
+"You know my sentiments, sir, in regard to my son's idiocy."
+
+"Oh, come, come! Falling in love is a harmless amusement," said Dr.
+Lavendar; "but your father does take it a good deal to heart. He wants
+to get him out of town. However, to send him away without letting him
+know why, is difficult; and the last thing would be to let him think
+we take his love-making seriously! Therefore your father thinks some
+kind of excuse has to be made."
+
+Here Dr. Lavendar became elaborately casual; he had decided that he
+must prepare his senior warden for a possible reference to a dangerous
+topic. "He mustn't be taken unawares," Dr. Lavendar had told himself.
+But he quailed, now that the moment of preparation had come. "Your
+father thinks the excuse might be the finding a publisher for some
+poetry that Sam has written."
+
+Samuel Wright's large pallid face suddenly twitched; his dull eyes
+blazed straight at Dr. Lavendar; "Finding a publisher--for poetry! Dr.
+Lavendar, rather than have my son encouraged in making what you call
+'poetry,' I'd let him _board_ at Mrs. Richie's!"
+
+"Well," said Dr. Lavendar, easily, "never mind about his poetry; your
+father has an idea that life in a small place with only your own
+interests, is narrowing; and I guess he's right to some extent. Anyway
+this project of a journey isn't a bad one. Sam has never been further
+from his mother's apron-string in his life, than Mercer."
+
+"My dear Dr. Lavendar," said Samuel, pompously, "a boy attached to
+that string will never have the chance to fall into temptation."
+
+"My dear Samuel," said Dr. Lavendar, "a boy attached to that string
+may never have the chance to overcome temptation--which would be
+almost as serious. I tell you, Sam, safety that depends on an apron-
+string is very unsafe!"
+
+"My son is not to be trusted, sir."
+
+"Samuel!" Dr. Lavendar protested with indignation, "how can he become
+worthy of trust without being trusted? You have no more right to shut
+up a grown man in Old Chester for fear of temptation, than you would
+have to keep a growing boy in his first pair of trousers! Why, Sam,
+there isn't any virtue where there has never been any temptation.
+Virtue is just temptation, overcome. Hasn't that ever struck you?
+However, that's not the point. The point is, that your father has
+expressed a willingness to meet you."
+
+Mr. Wright made no answer.
+
+"He will talk over with you this matter of Sam's falling in love.
+Whether you agree with him that the boy should go away, is not
+important. What is important is his desire to see you."
+
+"I said," Samuel Wright broke out, with a violence that made Dr.
+Lavendar start--"I said I would never speak to him again! I took my
+oath. I cannot break my oath. 'He that sweareth to his own hurt, and
+changeth not--'"
+
+"Yes," said Dr. Lavendar; "'to his own hurt,' but not to somebody
+else's hurt. You swore to your father's, to your children's, to the
+community's hurt. Change as quickly as you can. Come up the hill with
+me to-night."
+
+"I can't," Samuel Wright said hoarsely, and into his hard eyes came
+the same look of childish terror that the old minister had seen in
+Benjamin Wright's face when he sat in the hot sunshine watching the
+canaries.
+
+Then Dr. Lavendar began to plead....
+
+It was a long struggle. Sometimes it really seemed as if, as the
+senior warden had said, he "could not" do it; as if it were a physical
+impossibility. And there is no doubt that to change a habit of thought
+which has endured for thirty-two years involves a physical as well as
+a spiritual effort, which may cause absolute anguish. Mr. Wright's
+face was white; twice he wiped the perspiration from his forehead:
+half a dozen times he said in an agonized tone, "I cannot do it; I
+_cannot._"
+
+"Samuel, your father is very old; he is very feeble; but he has had
+the strength to take the first step. Haven't you the strength to take
+the second? Will you carry your wicked quarrel to his grave? No, Sam,
+no! I am sure you won't."...
+
+An hour later, when Dr. Lavendar sat down to a dinner of more than
+ordinary Sunday coldness, his old face was twinkling with pleasure.
+Samuel had promised to go with him that night to The Top! Perhaps as
+the still afternoon softened into dusk his joy began to cast a shadow
+of apprehension. If so, he refused to notice it. It was the Lord's
+business, and "He moves in a mysterious way," he hummed to himself,
+waiting in the warm darkness for Samuel to call for him,--for both the
+quailing men had made Dr. Lavendar's presence a condition of the
+interview.
+
+At half-past seven Mr. Wright arrived. He was in a shiny box-buggy,
+behind a smart sorrel. He was dressed in his black and solemn best,
+and he wore his high hat with a flat brim which only came out at
+funerals. His dignity was so tremendous that his great bulk seemed to
+take even more than its share of room in the buggy. When he spoke, it
+was with a laboriousness that crushed the breath out of any possible
+answer. As they drove up the hill he cleared his throat every few
+minutes. Once he volunteered the statement that he had told Sam not to
+stay late at--at--
+
+"Oh," said Dr. Lavendar, "your father will pack him off;--he will
+probably take the opportunity to call on Mrs. Richie," he added
+smiling. But Sam's father did not smile. And, indeed, Dr. Lavendar's
+own face was sober when they turned in between the sagging old gate-
+posts at The Top.
+
+When the moment came to get out of the buggy, Samuel looked at his
+companion dumbly; a sort of paralysis seemed to hold him in his seat.
+When he did move, Dr. Lavendar heard him gasp for breath, and in the
+darkness, as he hitched the sorrel to a staple in one of the big
+locusts, his face went white. The large manner which had dominated Old
+Chester for so many years was shrinking and shrivelling; the whole man
+seemed, somehow, smaller....
+
+Benjamin Wright, in his mangy beaver hat, sitting quaking in his
+library, heard their steps on the veranda. As soon as supper was over,
+he had dismissed his rejoicing grandson, and long before it was
+necessary, had bidden Simmons light the lamps; but as night fell, it
+occurred to him that darkness would make things easier, and in a
+panic, he shuffled about and blew them all out. A little later, he had
+a surge of terror; he couldn't bear _that voice_ in the dark!
+
+"You! Simmons!" he called across the hall. "Light the lamps!"
+
+"I done lit 'em, suh--" Simmons expostulated from the pantry, and then
+looked blankly at the black doorway of the library. "I 'clare to
+goodness, they's gone out," he mumbled to himself; and came in, to
+stand on one leg and scratch a match on the sole of his carpet
+slipper.
+
+"Don't light all four, you stupid nigger!" the old man screamed at
+him.
+
+When Simmons left him he lit a cigar, his fingers trembling very much;
+it went out almost at once, and he threw it away and took another.
+Just as he heard that ponderous step on the veranda, he took a third--
+[Illustration: Samuel slid into a chair near the door.] but only to
+throw it, too, still smouldering, into the empty fireplace.
+
+Dr. Lavendar came in first. His face was very grave; he made no
+conventional pretence of ease. Behind him, in the doorway, loomed the
+other figure. Out in the hall, Simmons, his bent old back flattened
+against the wall, his jaw chattering with amazement, stood, clutching
+at the door-knob and staring after the visitors.
+
+"Come in!" said, Benjamin Wright. "Hello, Lavendar. Hello--"
+
+Alas! at that moment Samuel's cracked and patched-up self-respect
+suddenly crumbled;--his presence of mind deserted him, and scrambling
+like an embarrassed boy into a marked discourtesy, he thrust both
+hands into his pockets. Instantly he realized his self-betrayal, but
+it was too late; his father, after a second's hesitation, occupied
+both his hands with the decanter and cigar-box.
+
+"Well; here we are, Benjamin!" said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"Take a cigar," said the very old man; he held the box out, and it
+shook so that the loose cigars jarred within it. Dr. Lavendar helped
+himself. "Have one--" Benjamin Wright said, and thrust the box at the
+silent standing figure.
+
+"I--do not smoke." Samuel slid into a seat near the door, and
+balancing his hat carefully on his knees twisted one leg about the leg
+of his chair.
+
+His father bustled around to the other side of the table. "That
+doggoned nigger brought up Kentucky instead of Monongahela!" He lifted
+the decanter and began to fill the glasses.
+
+"Hold on! hold on! Don't swamp us," said Dr. Lavendar, He leaned over
+to rescue his tumbler, and his good-natured scolding made an instant's
+break in the intensity.
+
+"Have some?" said Mr. Wright, turning to his son.
+
+"I--do not drink." The banker uncoiled his leg, and put his hat on the
+floor.
+
+His father pounded the decanter down on the table. "Simmons!" he
+called out; "light the rest of these lamps, you--you freckled nigger!
+Gad-a-mercy! niggers have no sense."
+
+Simmons came stumbling in, the whites of his yellow eyes gleaming with
+excitement. While he was fumbling over the lamps, his lean brown
+fingers all thumbs, Benjamin Wright insisted upon filling Dr.
+Lavendar's tumbler with whiskey until it overflowed and had to be
+sopped up by the old minister's red bandanna.
+
+As soon as Simmons could get out of the room, Dr. Lavendar settled
+himself to the business which had brought them together. He said to
+his senior warden, briefly, that his father was concerned about Sam's
+attentions to Mrs. Richie; "he thinks it would be an especially good
+time to have the boy see a little of the world, if you will consent?
+He says it's 'narrowing to live in Old Chester," said Dr. Lavendar,
+slyly jocose;--but Samuel refused to smile, and the old minister went
+on with determined cheerfulness. "I think, myself, that it would be
+good for Sam to travel. You know
+
+  'Home-keeping youths
+  Have ever homely wits.'"
+
+"A boy," said the senior warden, and stopped; his voice cracked badly
+and he cleared his throat; "a boy--Dr. Lavendar;--is better at home."
+
+The old minister gave him a quick look--his senior warden was
+trembling! The cloak of careful pomposity with which for so many years
+this poor maimed soul had covered its scars, was dropping away. He was
+clutching at it--clearing his throat, swinging his foot, making
+elaborate show of ease; but the cloak was slipping and slipping, and
+there was the man of fifty-six cringing with the mortification of
+youth! It was a sight from which to turn away even the most pitying
+eyes. Dr. Lavendar turned his away; when he spoke it was with great
+gentleness.
+
+"I don't know that I quite agree with you, Sam, any more than with
+your father; but still, if you don't want the boy to go away, can't we
+convince your father that he is in no real danger of a broken heart?
+If he goes too far, I am sure we can trust Mrs. Richie to snub him
+judiciously. You think so, don't you, Samuel?"
+
+"Yes;--Dr. Lavendar."
+
+"Do you hear that, Wright?"
+
+Benjamin Wright took off his hat and banged it down on the table. Then
+he threw away another barely lighted cigar, put his hand into the blue
+ginger-jar for some orange-skin, and looked closely at his son; his
+agitation had quite disappeared. "I hear," he said calmly.
+
+But as he grew calm, Mr. Samuel Wright's embarrassment became more
+agonizing, nor was it lessened by the very old man's quite obvious
+interest in it; his head, in its brown wig, was inclined a little to
+one side, like a canary's, and his black eyes helped out the
+likeness--except that there was a carefully restrained gleam of humor
+in
+them. But he said nothing. To cover up the clamorous silence between
+father and son, Dr. Lavendar talked a good deal, but rather at random.
+He was confounded by the situation. Had he made a mistake, after all,
+in
+insisting upon this interview? In his own mind he was asking for
+wisdom, but aloud he spoke of the weather. His host gave no
+conversational assistance except an occasional monosyllable, and his
+senior warden was absolutely dumb. As for the subject which brought
+them together, no further reference was made to it.
+
+"Take some more whiskey, Dominic," said Mr. Wright. His eyes were
+glittering; it was evident that he did not need any more himself.
+
+Dr. Lavendar said, "No, thank you," and rose. Samuel shot up as though
+a spring had been released.
+
+"Going?" said Benjamin Wright; "a short call, considering how long it
+is since we've met;--Lavendar."
+
+Samuel cleared his throat. "'Night," he said huskily. Again there was
+no hand-shaking; but as they reached the front door, Benjamin Wright
+called to Dr. Lavendar, who stepped back into the library. Mr. Wright
+had put on his hat, and was chewing orange-skin violently. "It ain't
+any use trying to arrange anything with--So I'll try another tack." He
+came close to Dr. Lavendar, plucking at the old minister's black
+sleeve, his eyes snapping and his jaws working fast; he spoke in a
+delighted whisper. "But, Lavendar--"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He wouldn't take a cigar."
+
+"Samuel never smokes," Dr. Lavendar said shortly.
+
+"And he wouldn't take a drink of whiskey."
+
+"He's a very temperate man."
+
+"Lavendar--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Lavendar--_it was efficacious!_"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+"The play is my life--next to you," Sam Wright's Sam was saying to
+his father's tenant. He had left The Top before the two visitors
+arrived, and as Dr. Lavendar had foreseen, had gone straight to the
+Stuffed Animal House....
+
+Helena was in a low chair, with David nestling sleepily in her arms;
+Sam, looking up at her like a young St. John, half sat, half knelt, on
+the step at her feet. The day had been hot, and evening had brought no
+coolness; under the sentinel locusts on either side of the porch steps
+the night was velvet black; but out over the garden there were stars.
+A faint stirring of the air tilted the open bowls of the evening-
+primroses, spilling a heavy sweetness into the shadows. The house
+behind them was dark, for it was too hot for lamps. It was very still
+and peaceful and commonplace--a woman, a dozing child, and the soft
+night. Young Sam, so sensitive to moods, had fallen at once into the
+peace and was content to sit silently at Helena's feet.... Then David
+broke in upon the tranquillity by remarking, with a sigh, that he must
+go to bed.
+
+"I heard the clock strike," he said sadly.
+
+"I think you are a very good little boy," Helena declared with
+admiration.
+
+"Dr. Lavendar said I must," David explained crossly. "You're
+misbehavious if you don't do what Dr. Lavendar says. Mrs. Richie, is
+heaven up in the sky?"
+
+"Why, I suppose so," she said hesitating.
+
+"What do they stand on?" David inquired. "There isn't any floor," he
+insisted doggedly, for she laughed under her breath.
+
+Helena looked over at Sam, who was not in the least amused. Then she
+kissed the top of David's head. "I wish I could make his hair curl,"
+she said. "I knew a little boy once--" she stopped and sighed.
+
+She took the sleepy child up-stairs herself. Not for many guests would
+she have lost the half-hour of putting him to bed. When she came back
+her mind was full of him: "He hates to go to bed early," she told Sam,
+"but he always walks off at eight, without a word from me, because he
+promised Dr. Lavendar he would. I think it is wonderful."
+
+Sam was not interested,
+
+"And he is so funny! He says such unexpected things. He told me
+yesterday that Sarah 'slept out loud';--Sarah's room is next to his."
+
+"What did he mean?" Sam said, with the curious literalness of the
+poetic temperament, entirely devoid of humor. But he did not wait for
+an answer; he locked his hands about his knee, and leaning his head
+back, looked up through the leaves at the stars. "How sweet the locust
+blossoms are!" he said. One of the yellow-white flakes fell and
+touched his cheek.
+
+"They are falling so now," she said, "that the porch has to be swept
+twice a day."
+
+He smiled, and brushing his palm along the step, caught a handful of
+them, "Every night you sit here all alone; I wish--"
+
+"Oh, I like to be alone," she interrupted. As the balm of David's
+presence faded, and the worship in the young man's eyes burned
+clearer, that old joke of Lloyd's stabbed her. She wished he would go.
+"How does the drama get on?" she asked, with an effort.
+
+Sam frowned and said something of his father's impatience with his
+writing. "But I am only happy when I am writing; and when I am with
+you. The play is my life,--next to you."
+
+"Please don't!" she said; and then held her breath to listen. "I think
+I hear David. Excuse me a minute." She fled into the house and up-
+stairs to David's room. "Did you want me, precious?" she said panting,
+
+David opened dreaming eyes and looked at her. He had called out in his
+sleep, but was quiet again, and did not need her eager arms, her lips
+on his hair, her voice murmuring in his ear. But she could not stop
+cuddling the small warm body; she forgot Sam and his play, and even
+her own dull ache of discontent,--an ache that was bringing a subtle
+change into her face, a faint line on her forehead, and a suggestion
+of depth, and even pain, in the pleasant shallows of her leaf-brown
+eyes. Perhaps the discontent was mere weariness of the whole
+situation; if so, she did not recognize it for what it was. Her
+fellow-prisoner, straining furtively against the bond of the flesh
+which was all that held him to her, might have enlightened her, but he
+took her love so for granted, that he never suspected the discontent.
+However, watching David, Helena was herself unconscious of it; when
+she was sure the little boy was sound asleep she stole the "forty
+kisses," which as yet he had not granted; folded the sheet back lest
+he might be too hot; drew a thin blanket over his feet, and then stood
+and looked at him. Suddenly, remembering Sam Wright, she turned away;
+but hesitated at the door, and came back for one more look. At last,
+with a sigh, she went downstairs.
+
+"He loves your rabbits," she told Sam; "he has named them Mr. George
+Rufus Smith and Mrs. Minnie Lily Smith,"
+
+"It is all finished," said Sam.
+
+"What is finished?"
+
+"The drama," the young man explained.
+
+"Oh," she said, "do forgive me! My mind is so full of David, I can't
+think of anything else."
+
+He smiled at that. "You couldn't do anything I wouldn't forgive,"
+
+"Couldn't I?"
+
+He looked up at her, wistfully. "I love you, you know."
+
+"Oh, please, please--"
+
+"I love you," he said, trembling.
+
+"Sam," she said--and in her distress she put her hand on his
+shoulder--"you don't really care for me. I am so much older, and--there
+are other reasons. Oh, why did I come here!" she burst out. "You
+displease me very much when you talk this way!" She pushed her
+chair back, and would have risen but for his detaining hand upon her
+arm,
+
+"Will you marry me?"
+
+"No! of course I won't!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because--" she stopped; then, breathlessly; "I only want to be let
+alone, I came to Old Chester to be alone. I didn't want to thrust
+myself on you.--any of you!"
+
+"You never did," he said wonderingly. "You? Why, there never was
+anybody so reserved, so--shy, almost. That's one reason I love you, I
+guess," he said boyishly.
+
+"You mustn't love me."
+
+"Will you marry me?" he repeated. "Oh, I know; it is like asking an
+angel to come down out of heaven--"
+
+"An angel!"
+
+"Mrs. Richie, isn't it possible for you to care, just a little, and
+marry me?"
+
+"No, Sam: indeed it isn't. Please don't think of it any more."
+
+"Is it because you love him, still?"
+
+"Love--_him?_" she breathed.
+
+"He is dead," Sam said; "and I thought from something you once said,
+that you didn't really love him. But if you do--"
+
+"My--husband, you mean? No! I don't. I never did. That's not the
+reason; oh, why did I come here?" she said in a distressed whisper.
+
+At that he lifted his head. "Don't be unhappy. It doesn't matter about
+me." His eyes glittered. "'All is dross that is not Helena'! I shall
+love you as long as I live, even if you don't marry me. Perhaps--
+perhaps I wouldn't if you did!"
+
+He did not notice her involuntary start of astonishment, he rose, and
+lifting his arms to the sky, stood motionless, rapt, as if in wordless
+appeal to heaven. Then his arms dropped. "No," he said, speaking with
+curious thoughtfulness: "no; you would be human if you could marry a
+fool like me." Helena made a protesting gesture, but he went on,
+quietly: "Oh, yes; I am a fool. I've been told so all my life; but I
+knew it, anyhow. Nobody need have told me. Of course you couldn't
+marry me! If you could, you would be like me. And I would not want
+that. No; you are God to me. Stay divine."
+
+Helena put her hands over her ears.
+
+"But please, can't you love me? We needn't be married, if you'd rather
+not. If you'll just love me a little?"
+
+The innocence of the plea for love without marriage struck her with a
+dull humor that faded into annoyance that she should see the humor. It
+was an uncomfortable sensation, and she hated discomfort; in her
+desire to escape from it, she spoke with quick impatience. "No, Sam,
+of course not,--not the way you want me to. Why, you are just a boy,
+you know!" she added, lightly.
+
+But Sam threw himself on his knees beside her, and pressed his head
+against her skirts. "Oh, are you _sure_, Mrs. Richie? Why, it
+seems to me you might--just a little? Can't you? You see, I'm so
+lonely," he ended pitifully. His innocent solemn eyes were limpid with
+tears, and he looked at her with terrified beseeching, like a lost
+child.
+
+The tears that sprang to her eyes were almost motherly; for an
+impetuous instant she bent over him, then drew back sharply, and the
+tears dried in a hot pang of shame. "No, Sam; I can't. Oh, I am so
+sorry! Please forgive me--I ought not to have let you--but I didn't
+know--yes; I did know! And I ought to have stopped you. It's my fault.
+Oh, how selfish I have been! But it's horrible to have you talk this
+way! Won't you please not say anything more?" She was incoherent to
+the point of crying.
+
+Sam looked out over the dark garden in silence. "Well," he said
+slowly, "if you can't, then I don't want to see you. It would hurt me
+too much to see you. I'll go away. I will go on loving you, but I will
+go away, so that I needn't see you. Yes; I will leave Old Chester--"
+
+"Oh, I wish you would," she said.
+
+"You don't love me," he repeated, in a sort of hopeless astonishment;
+"why, I can't seem to believe it! I thought you must--I love you so.
+But no, you don't. Not even just a little. Well--"
+
+And without another word he left her. She could not hear his step on
+the locust flowers on the porch.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+_"I wish your confounded Old Chester people would mind their own
+affairs! This prying into things that are none of their business
+is--"_
+
+Lloyd Pryor stopped; read over what he had written, and ground his
+teeth. No; he couldn't send her such a letter. It would call down a
+storm of reproach and anger and love. And, after all, it wasn't her
+fault; this doctor fellow had said that she did not know of his call.
+Still, if she hadn't been friendly with those people, the man wouldn't
+have thought of "looking him up"! Then he remembered that he had been
+the one to be friendly with the "doctor fellow"; and that made him
+angry again. But his next letter was more reasonable, and so more
+deadly.
+
+_"You will see that if I had not happened to be at home, it might
+have been a very serious matter. I must ask you to consider my
+position, and discourage your friends in paying any attention to
+me."_
+
+This, too, he tore up, with a smothered word. It wouldn't do; if he
+wounded her too much, she was capable of taking the next train--! And
+so he wrote, with non-committal brevity:
+
+_"I have to be in Mercer Friday night, and I think I can get down to
+Old Chester for a few hours between stages on Saturday. I hope your
+cook has recovered, and we can have some dinner? Tell David he can get
+his sling ready; and do, for Heaven's sake, fend off visitors!" Then
+he added a postscript: _"I want you all to myself."_ He smiled as he
+wrote that, but half shook his head. He did not (such was his code)
+enjoy being agreeable for a purpose. "But I can't help it," he
+thought, frowning; "she is so very difficult, just now."
+
+He was right about the postscript; she read the letter with a curl of
+her lip. "'A few hours,'" she said; then--"'I want you all to
+myself.'" The delicate color flooded into her face; she crushed the
+letter to her lips, her eyes running over with laughing tears.
+
+"Oh, David," she cried,--"let's go and tell Maggie--we must have such
+a dinner! He's coming!"
+
+"Who?" said David.
+
+"Why, Mr. Pryor, dear little boy. I want you to love him. Will you
+love him?" "I'll see," said David; "is Alice coming?"
+
+Instantly her gayety flagged. "No, dear, no!"
+
+"Well; I guess she's too old to play with;" David consoled himself;
+"she's nineteen."
+
+"I must speak to Maggie about the dinner," Helena said dully. But when
+she talked to the woman, interest came back again; this time he should
+not complain of his food! Maggie smiled indulgently at her excitement,
+
+"My, Mrs. Richie, I don't believe no wife could take as good care of
+Mr. Pryor--and you just his sister!"
+
+For the rest of that glowing afternoon, Helena was very happy. She
+almost forgot that uncomfortable scene with Sam Wright. She talked
+eagerly of Mr. Pryor to David, quite indifferent to the child's lack
+of interest. She had many anxious thoughts about what she should wear.
+If it was a very hot day, how would her white dimity do? Or the thin
+sprigged blue and white? it was so pretty--bunches of blue flowers on
+a cross-barred muslin, and made with three flounces and a bertha. She
+was wandering about the garden just before tea, trying to decide this
+point, when David came to say that a gentleman wanted to see her.
+David did not know his name;--he was the old tangled gentleman who
+lived in the big house on the hill.
+
+"_Oh!_" Helena said; she caught her lip between her teeth, and
+looked at David with frightened eyes. The child was instantly alert.
+
+"I'll run and tell him to go home," he said protectingly.
+
+But she shook her head. "I've got to see him--oh, David!"
+
+The little boy took hold of her skirt, reassuringly; "I'll not let him
+hurt you," he said. She hardly noticed that he kept close beside her
+all the way to the house.
+
+Mr. Benjamin Wright was sitting on the lowest step of the front porch.
+His trembling head was sunk forward on his breast; he did not lift it
+at her step, but peered up from under the brim of his dusty beaver
+hat; then seeing who it was, he rose, pushing himself up by gripping
+at the step behind him and clutching his cane first in one hand, then
+in the other. His face like old ivory chiselled into superb lines of
+melancholy power, was pallid with fatigue. On his feet, with
+exaggerated politeness, he took off his hat with a sweeping bow.
+
+"Madam, your very obedient!"
+
+"Good afternoon," she said breathlessly.
+
+Benjamin Wright, tottering a little, changed his cane from his left to
+his right hand, and chewed orange-skin fiercely. "I have called,
+madam--"
+
+But she interrupted him. "Won't you come in and sit down, sir? And
+pray allow me to get you a glass of wine."
+
+"Come in? No, madam, no. We are simple rustics here in Old Chester; we
+must not presume to intrude upon a lady of such fashion as you. I fear
+that some of us have already presumed too much"--he paused for breath,
+but lifted one veined old hand to check her protest--"too much, I say!
+Far too much! I come, madam, to apologize, and to tell you--" Again he
+stopped, panting; "to tell you that I insist that you forbid further
+intrusion--at least on the part of my grandson."
+
+"But," she said, the color hot in her face, "he does not intrude. I
+don't know what you mean. I--"
+
+"Oh, madam, you are too kind, I am sure you know what I mean; it is
+your excessive kindness that permits the visits of a foolish boy--
+wearying, I am sure, to a lady so accustomed to the world. I will ask
+you to forbid those visits. Do you hear me?" he cried shrilly,
+pounding the gravel with his cane. "Gad-a-mercy! Do you hear me? You
+will forbid his visits!"
+
+"You are not very polite, Mr. Old Gentleman," said David thoughtfully.
+
+"David!" Helena protested.
+
+Benjamin Wright, looking down at the little figure planted in front of
+her, seemed to see him for the first time.
+
+"Who is this! Your child?"
+
+"A little boy who is visiting me," she said. "David, run away."
+
+Benjamin Wright made a sneering gesture. "No, no; don't dismiss him on
+my account. But that a child should visit you is rather remarkable. I
+should think his parents--"
+
+"Hush!" she broke in violently, "Go, David, go!"
+
+As the child went sulkily back to the garden, she turned upon her
+visitor. "How dare you! Dr. Lavendar brought him to me; I will not
+hear another word! And--and I don't know what you mean, anyhow. You
+are a cruel old man; what have I ever done to you? I have never asked
+your grandson to come here. I don't want him. I have told him so. And
+I never asked you!"
+
+Benjamin Wright cackled. "No; I have not been so far honored. I admit
+that. You have kept us all at arm's length,--except my boy." Then,
+bending his fierce brows on her, he added, "But what does Lavendar
+mean by sending a child--to you? What's he thinking of? Except, of
+course, he never had any sense. Old Chester is indeed a foolish place.
+Well, madam, you will, I know, _protect yourself,_ by forbidding
+my grandson to further inflict his company upon you? And I will remove
+my own company, which is doubtless tiresome to you."
+
+He bowed again with contemptuous ceremony, and turned away.
+
+The color had dropped out of Helena's face; she was trembling very
+much. With a confused impulse she called to him, and even ran after
+him for a few steps down the path. He turned and waited for her. She
+came up to him, her breath broken with haste and fear.
+
+"Mr. Wright, you won't--" Her face trembled with dismay. In her fright
+she put her hand on his arm and shook it; "you won't--?"
+
+As he looked into her stricken eyes, his own suddenly softened. "Why--
+"he said, and paused; then struck the ground with his stick sharply.
+"There, there; I understand. You think I'll tell? Gad-a-mercy, madam,
+I am a gentleman. And my boy Sam doesn't interest you? Yes, yes; I see
+that now. Why, perhaps I've been a trifle harsh? I shall say nothing
+to Lavendar, or anybody else."
+
+She put her hands over her face, and he heard a broken sound.
+Instantly he reddened to his ears.
+
+"Come! Come! You haven't thought me harsh, have you? Why, you poor-
+_bird!_ It was only on my boy's account. You and I understand
+each other--I am a man of the world. But with Sam, it's different,
+now, isn't it? You see that? He's in love with you, the young fool! A
+great nuisance to you, of course. And I thought you might--but I ask
+your pardon! I see that you wouldn't think of such a thing. My dear
+young lady, I make you my apologies." He put his hand out and patted
+her shoulder; "Poor bird!" he said. But she shivered away from his
+touch, and after a hesitating moment he went shuffling down the path
+by himself.
+
+On the way home he sniffled audibly; and when he reached the entrance
+to his own place he stopped, tucked his stick under his arm, and blew
+his nose with a sonorous sound. As he stuffed his handkerchief back
+into his pocket, he saw his grandson lounging against the gate,
+evidently waiting for him... The dilapidation of the Wright place was
+especially obvious here at the entrance. The white paint on the two
+square wooden columns of the gateway had peeled and flaked, and the
+columns themselves had rotted at the base into broken fangs, and hung
+loosely upon their inner-posts; one of them sagged sidewise from the
+weight of the open gate which had long ago settled down into the
+burdocks and wild parsley that bordered the weedy driveway. What with
+the canaries, and the cooking, and the slovenly housework, poor old
+Simmons had no time for such matters as repairing or weeding.
+
+Sam, leaning on the gate, watched his grandfather's toiling progress
+up the hill. His face was dull, and when he spoke all the youth seemed
+to have dropped out of his voice.
+
+"Grandfather," he said, when Mr. Wright was within speaking distance,
+"I want to go away from Old Chester. Will you give me some money,
+sir?"
+
+Benjamin Wright, his feet wide apart, and both hands gripping the top
+of his stick, came to a panting standstill and gaped at him. He did
+not quite take the boy's words in; then, as he grasped the idea that
+Sam was agreeing to the suggestion which he had himself made more than
+a month before, he burst out furiously. "Why the devil didn't you say
+so, _yesterday?_ Why did you let me--you young jackass!"
+
+Sam looked at him in faint surprise. Then he proceeded to explain
+himself: "Of course, father won't give me any money. And I haven't got
+any myself--except about twelve dollars. And you were kind enough,
+sir, to say that you would help me to go and see if I could get a
+publisher for the drama. I would like to go to-morrow, if you please."
+
+"Go?" said Benjamin Wright, scowling and chewing orange-skin rapidly,
+"the sooner the better! I'm glad to get rid of you. But, confound you!
+why didn't you tell me so yesterday? Then I needn't have--Well, how
+much money do you want? Have you told your--your mother that you are
+going? Come on up to the house, and I'll give you a check. But why
+didn't you make up your mind to this yesterday?" Snarling and
+snapping, and then falling into silence, he began to trudge up the
+driveway to his old house.
+
+Sam said briefly that he didn't know how much money he wanted, and
+that he had not as yet told his family of his purpose. "I'll tell
+mother to-night," he said. Then he, too, was silent, his young step
+falling in with his grandfather's shuffling gait.
+
+When Mr. Wright left her, Helena stood staring after him, sobbing
+under her breath. She was terrified, but almost instantly she began to
+be angry....
+
+That old man, creeping away along the road, had told her that he would
+not betray her; but his knowledge was a menace, and his surprise that
+she should have David, an insult! Of course, her way of living was
+considered "wrong" by people who cannot understand such situations--
+old-fashioned, narrow-minded people. But the idea of any harm coming
+to David by it was ridiculous! As for Sam Wright, all that sort of
+thing was impossible, because it was repugnant. No married woman,
+"respectable," as such women call themselves, could have found the
+boy's love-making more repugnant than she did. And certainly her
+conduct in Old Chester was absolutely irreproachable: she went to
+church fairly often; she gave liberally to all the good causes of the
+village; she was kind to her servants, and courteous to these stupid
+Old Chester people. And yet, simply because she had been forced by
+Frederick's cruelty into a temporary unconventionality, this dingy,
+grimy old man despised her! "He looked at me as if I were--I don't
+know what!"
+
+Anger swept the color up into her face, her hands clenched, and she
+ground her heel down into the path as if she were grinding the
+insolent smile from his cruel old face. Horrible old man! Dirty,
+tremulous; with mumbling jaws chewing constantly; with untidy white
+hairs pricking out from under his brown wig; with shaking, shrivelled
+hands and blackened nails; this old man had fixed his melancholy eyes
+upon her with an amused leer. He pretended, if you please! to think
+that she was unworthy of his precious grandson's company--unworthy of
+David's little handclasp. She would leave this impudent Old Chester!
+She would tell Lloyd so, as soon as he came. She would not endure the
+insults of these narrow-minded fools.
+
+"Hideous! Hideous old wretch!" she said aloud furiously, between shut
+teeth. "How dared he look at me like that, as if I were--Beast! I
+hate--I hate--I _hate_ him." Her anger was so uncontrollable that
+for a moment she could not breathe. It was like a whirlwind, wrenching
+and tearing her from the soil of contentment into which for so many
+years her vanity and selfishness had struck their roots.
+
+  _"But the Lord was not in the wind."_
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+When Helena went back to the house, her face was red, and her whole
+body tingling; every now and then her breath came in a gasp of rage.
+At that moment she believed that she hated everybody in the world--the
+cruel, foolish, arrogant world!--even the thought of David brought no
+softening. And indeed, when that first fury had subsided, she still
+did not want to see the little boy; that destroying wind of anger had
+beaten her complacency to the dust, and she could not with dignity
+meet the child's candid eyes. It was not until the next day that she
+could find any pleasure in him, or even in the prospect of Lloyd's
+visit; and when these interests began to revive, sudden gusts of rage
+would tear her, and she would fall into abrupt reveries, declaring to
+herself that she would tell Lloyd how she had been insulted! But she
+reminded herself that she must choose just the right moment to enlist
+his sympathy for the affront; she must decide with just what caress
+she would tell him that she meant to leave Old Chester, and come, with
+David, to live in Philadelphia. (Oh, would Frederick _ever_ die?)...
+But, little by little, she put the miserable matter behind her, and
+filled the days before Lloyd's arrival with plans for the few golden
+hours that they were to be together, when he was to have her "all to
+himself." But, alas, the plans were all disarranged by David.
+
+Now Saturday, when you come to think of it, is always a day of joy--
+even if there must be a visitor. To begin with, there is no school, so
+you have plenty of time to attend to many important affairs connected
+with playthings. Then, the gravel paths must be raked and the garden
+made tidy for Sunday, and so there is brush and refuse to be burned;
+and that means baking potatoes in the ashes, and (as you will
+remember), unless you stand, coughing, in the smoke to watch them, the
+potatoes are so apt to burn. Also, the phaeton is washed with peculiar
+care to make it fine for church; the wheels must be jacked up, one
+after the other, and spun round and round; then, if you go about it
+the right way, you can induce George to let you take the big, gritty
+sponge out of the black water of the stable bucket, and after
+squeezing it hard in your two hands, you may wipe down the spokes of
+one wheel. Besides these things, there are always the rabbits. Right
+after breakfast, David had run joyously out to see Mr. and Mrs. Smith,
+but while he poked lettuce leaves between the bars of their hutch, the
+thought struck him that this was the moment to demonstrate that
+interesting fact in natural history, so well known to those of your
+friends who happen to be stablemen, but doubted by Dr. Lavendar,
+namely, that a hair from the pony's tail will, if soaked in water,
+turn into a snake. David shuddered at the word, but ran to the stable
+and carefully pulled two hairs from the pony's silvery-gray tail. The
+operation was borne with most obliging patience, but when he stooped
+to pick up another beautiful long hair from the straw--for when you
+are making snakes you might as well make plenty, alas! the pony was so
+absent-minded as to step back--and down came the iron-shod hoof on the
+small, eager hand!
+
+David's shriek and George's outcry brought the feminine household
+running and exclaiming, and at the sight of the bruised hand, with one
+hanging, helpless finger, Helena gathered the quivering little body
+into her arms, and forgot everything but the child's pain. George was
+rushed off for William King, and Mrs. Richie and the two women hung
+over the boy with tears and tender words and entreaties "not to cry"!
+David, in point of fact, stopped crying long before they did; but, of
+course, he cried again, poor little monkey! during the setting of the
+tiny bone, though William King was as gentle and determined as was
+necessary, and David, sitting in Helena's lap, responded to the demand
+for courage in quite a remarkable way. Indeed, the doctor noticed that
+Mrs. Richie quivered more than the child did. It was nearly eleven
+before it was all over, and William went off, smiling at Helena's
+anxiety, for she accompanied him to the gate, begging for directions
+for impossible emergencies. When he had driven away, she flew back to
+the house; but at the door of David's room looked at her watch, and
+exclaimed. Lloyd was due in half an hour! What should she do?
+
+"Dear-precious," she said, kneeling down beside the little boy, "Sarah
+shall come and sit with you while Mr. Pryor is here; you won't mind if
+I am not with you?"
+
+David, who had begun to whimper again, was too interested in himself
+to mind in the least. Even when she said, distractedly, "Oh, there's
+the stage!" his unhappiness was not perceptibly increased. Helena,
+calling Sarah to come and sit with the invalid, ran down-stairs to
+meet her guest. There had been no time to make herself charming; her
+face was marked by tears, and her dress tumbled by David's little
+wincing body. Before she could reach the gate, Lloyd Pryor had opened
+it, and, unwelcomed, was coming up the path. His surprised glance
+brought her tumultuous and apologetic explanation.
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry!" he said kindly; "I must console him with a new
+dollar; don't you think a dollar will be healing?"
+
+She laughed and possessed herself of his hand.
+
+"You run a sort of hospital, Nelly, don't you? I must be a Jonah; it
+was your cook the last time. How is she? I trust we are to have enough
+food to sustain life?"
+
+"I meant to have such a fine dinner," she said, "but we've all been so
+distracted about David, I'm afraid things won't be as extraordinary as
+I planned. However, it will 'sustain life'!--Though you could go to
+Dr. King's again," she ended gayly.
+
+The instant irritation in his face sobered her. She began, carefully,
+to talk of this or that: his journey, the Mercer business, his
+health--anything to make him smile again. Plainly, it was not the
+moment to speak of Mr. Benjamin Wright and her purpose of leaving Old
+Chester.
+
+"Now I must run up-stairs just one minute, and see David," she said in
+the middle of a sentence. Her minute lengthened to ten, but when she
+came back, explaining that she had stopped to wash David's face--"it
+was all stained by tears"--he did not seem impatient.
+
+"Your own would be improved by soap and water, my dear," he said with
+an amused look. "No! no--don't go now; I want to talk to you, and I
+haven't much time."
+
+She knew him too well to insist; instead, she burst into what gayety
+she could summon, for that was how he liked her. But back in her mind
+there was a growing tremor of apprehension:--there was something
+wrong; she could not tell what it was, but she felt it. She said to
+herself that she would not speak of Mr. Benjamin Wright until after
+dinner.
+
+Little by little, however, her uneasiness subsided. It became evident
+that the excitement of the morning had not been too much for Maggie;
+things were very good, and Lloyd Pryor was very appreciative, and
+Helena's charm more than once touched him to a caressing glance and a
+soft word. But as they got up from the table he glanced at his watch,
+and she winced; then smiled, quickly. She brought him his cigar and
+struck a light; and he, looking at her with handsome, lazy eyes,
+caught the hand which held the flaming match, and lit his cigar in
+slow puffs.
+
+"Now I must go and give a look at David," she said.
+
+"Look here, Nelly," he protested, "aren't you rather overdoing this
+adopted-mother business?"
+
+She found the child rather flushed and in an uneasy doze. Instantly
+she was anxious. "Don't leave him, Sarah," she said. "I'll have Maggie
+bring your dinner up to you. Oh, I _wish_ I didn't have to go
+downstairs!"
+
+"I'm afraid he is worse," she told Lloyd Pryor with a worried frown.
+
+"Well, don't look as if it were an affair of nations," he said
+carelessly, and drew her down on the sofa beside him. He was so
+gracious to her, that she forgot David; but she quivered for fear the
+graciousness should cease. She was like a thirsty creature, drinking
+with eager haste, lest some terror should drive her back into the
+desert. But Lloyd Pryor continued to be gracious; he talked gayly of
+this or that; he told her one or two stories that had been told him in
+a directors' meeting or on a journey, and he roared with appreciation
+of their peculiar humor. She flushed; but she made herself laugh. Then
+she began tentatively to say something of Old Chester; and--and what
+did he think? "That old man, who lives up on the hill, called, and--"
+
+But he interrupted her. "You are very beguiling, Nelly, but I am
+afraid I must be thinking of the stage--it is after three. Before I go
+I just want to say--" then he broke off. "Come in! Well? What is it?"
+he demanded impatiently.
+
+"Please, ma'am," said Sarah, standing in the doorway, her face
+puckered almost to tears, "David's woke up, and he's crying, and I
+can't do nothing with him. He wants you, ma'am."
+
+"Oh, poor darling! Tell him I'll come right up," Mrs. Richie said,
+rising in quick distress.
+
+"Nonsense!" said Lloyd Pryor, sharply. "Sarah, tell the boy to behave
+himself. Mrs. Richie can't come now."
+
+Sarah hurried up-stairs, but Helena stood in painful indecision. "Oh,
+Lloyd, I _must_ go! I'll just sit with him a minute!"
+
+"You'll just sit with me a minute," he said calmly. "Be sensible,
+Helena. I want to speak to you about something."
+
+But she did not hear him; she was listening for David's voice. A
+little whimpering cry reached her, and the tears sprung to her eyes.
+"Lloyd! I must. He is crying."
+
+"Let him cry."
+
+"He's takin' on so, please come up, ma'am," came Sarah's entreating
+voice from over the banisters in the upper hall.
+
+"Oh, Lloyd, I must!" She turned; but he, springing up, caught her
+wrist and pulled her to him.
+
+"Don't be a fool."
+
+"Let me go! Oh, how cruel you are!" She tried to wrench her wrist from
+his grasp. "I hate you!"
+
+"Hate me, do you?" He laughed, and catching her in his arms, kissed
+her again and again. Then he put his hands in his pockets and stepped
+back, leaving her free. "Will you go?"
+
+She stood, vibrating between surprised affection and anguished longing
+for the child. "Lloyd!" she said faintly; she put her hands over her
+face, and came towards him slowly, shivering a little, and murmuring
+"_Lloyd!_" Then, with a sudden gasp, she turned and fled up-stairs.
+"David--I am coming--"
+
+Lloyd Pryor stood dumfounded; in his astonishment he almost laughed.
+But at that instant he heard the crunch of wheels drawing up at the
+gate. "The stage!" he said to himself, and called out, angrily,
+"Helena!"
+
+But it was not the stage; it was William King's shabby old buggy
+standing in the shadow of the big locust by the roadside; and there
+was the doctor himself coming up the path.
+
+Lloyd Pryor swore under his breath.
+
+The front door was open to the hot June afternoon, and unannounced the
+doctor walked into the hall. As he took off his hat, he glanced into
+the parlor, and for a second of consternation stood staring with angry
+eyes. Then he nodded stiffly. "I will be obliged if you will let Mrs.
+Richie know I am here."
+
+"She is with that boy," said Lloyd Pryor. He made no motion of
+civility; he stood where Helena had left him, his hands still in his
+pockets. "Will you be so good as to tell her to come down here to me?
+The stage is due, and I must see her before I go."
+
+William King, red and stolid, nodded again, and went up-stairs without
+another look into the parlor.
+
+While he waited Lloyd Pryor's anger slowly rose. The presence of the
+doctor froze the tenderness that, for an idle moment, her face and
+voice and touch had awakened. The annoyance, the embarrassment, the
+danger of that call, returned in a gust of remembrance. When she came
+down-stairs, full of eager excuses, the touch of his rage seared her
+like a flame.
+
+"If you will kindly take five minutes from that squalling brat--"
+
+"Lloyd, he was in pain. I had to go to him. The instant the doctor
+came, I left him. I--"
+
+"Listen to me, please. I have only a minute. Helena, this friend of
+yours, this Dr. King, saw fit to pry into my affairs. He came to
+Philadelphia to look me up--" "_What!_"
+
+"He came to my house"--he looked at her keenly through his curling
+eyelashes--"to my house! Do you understand what that means?"
+
+In her dismay she sat down with a sort of gasp; and looking up at him,
+stammered, "But why? Why?"
+
+"Why? Because he is a prying suspicious jackass of a country doctor!
+He came at exactly six o'clock. it was perfectly evident that he meant
+to give me the pleasure of his company at dinner."
+
+At that she sprang to her feet, her impetuous hands upon his arm.
+"Then he was not--suspicious! Don't you see? He was only friendly!"
+She trembled with the reaction of that instant of dismay. "He was not
+suspicious, or he wouldn't have been--been willing--" Her voice
+trailed into shamed silence.
+
+Lloyd Pryor pushed her hand away, impatiently. "I'm not anxious for
+his friendship or even his acquaintance. You will please consider what
+would have happened if I had not come home just as he arrived!" He
+paused, his voice hardening: "My daughter saw him."
+
+Helena stepped back, wincing and silent.
+
+"You will be so good as to consider the result of such tomfoolery--to
+me."
+
+"And what about me?" she said. "Your 'daughter'--I suppose you mean
+Alice--is not the only person in the world!"
+
+But Lloyd Pryor, having dealt his blow, was gracious again. "My dear,
+you needn't begin recriminations. Of course, I speak on your account
+as much as on my own. It would have been--well, awkward, all round.
+You must see that it does not occur again. You will not get on terms
+with these people that will encourage them to look me up. You
+understand?"
+
+She looked at him, terror-stricken. In all their squabbles and
+differences--and there had been many in the last few years--he had
+never spoken in this extraordinary tone. It was not anger, it was not
+the courteous brutality with which she was more or less familiar; it
+was superiority. The color swept into her face; even her throat
+reddened. She said stammering, "I don't know why you speak--in--in
+this tone--"
+
+"I am not going to speak any more in any tone," he said lightly;
+"there's the stage! Good-by, my dear. I trust your boy may recover
+rapidly. Tell him I was prepared for his sling and the 'smooth stone
+out of the brook'! Sorry I couldn't have seen more of you." As he
+spoke he went into the hall; she followed him without a word. He
+picked up his hat, and then, turning, tipped her chin back and kissed
+her. She made no response.
+
+When he had gone, she went into the parlor and Shut the door.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+David was quite a personage in Old Chester for a few days. Mrs.
+Richie was his slave, and hardly left him day or night; Dr. King came
+to see him five times in one week; Mrs. Barkley sent him some wine
+jelly in a sheaf-of-wheat mould; Dr. Lavendar climbed the hill on two
+afternoons, to play dominoes with him, though, as it happened, Mrs.
+Richie was not present either day to watch the game. The first time
+she had just gone to lie down, Sarah said; the second time she had
+that moment started out to walk--"Why, my goodness!" said Sarah, "she
+must 'a' _just_ gone! She was here not a minute ago. I should 'a'
+thought she'd 'a' seen you tyin' up at the gate?"
+
+"Well, evidently she didn't," Dr. Lavendar said, "or she would have
+waited. Tell her I'm sorry to miss her, Sarah." Then, eagerly, he went
+on up-stairs to David.
+
+William King, too, was scarcely more fortunate; he only found her at
+home once, so at the end of the week he was unable to tell her that
+David was improving. It was, of course, necessary that she should be
+told this; so that was why he and Jinny continued to come up the hill
+for another week. At any rate that was the explanation he gave his
+Martha. "I must let her know just when David can go back to school,"
+he said. And Martha, with a tightening lip remarked that she should
+have supposed a woman of Mrs. Richie's years could use her own
+judgment in such a matter.
+
+William's explanation to Dr. Lavendar was somewhat fuller: "I make a
+point of calling, on the plea of seeing David, but it's really to see
+her. She's so high strung, that this little accident of his has
+completely upset her. I notice that she sort of keeps out of the way
+of people. I'm pretty sure that yesterday she saw me coming and
+slipped out into the garden to avoid me--think of that! Nervousness;
+pure nervousness. But I have a plan to brighten her up a little--a
+surprise-party. What do you say?"
+
+Dr. Lavendar looked doubtful. "William," he said, "isn't life
+surprising enough? Now, here's Sam Wright's Sam's performance."
+
+Dr. Lavendar looked care-worn, and with reason. Sam Wright's Sam had
+indeed provided a surprise for Old Chester. He had quietly announced
+that he was going to leave town.
+
+"Going away!" repeated the senior warden. "What are you talking
+about?"
+
+Sam said briefly that he wanted to try to get a drama he had written,
+published.
+
+"You are out of your senses!" his father said; "I forbid it, sir. Do
+you hear me?"
+
+Sam looked out of the window. "I shall go, I think, to-morrow," he
+said thoughtfully.
+
+Samuel Wright stared at his wife in dumfounded silence. When he got
+his breath, he said in awful tones, "Eliza, he defies me! A child of
+mine, and lost to all sense of duty! I cannot understand it;--unless
+such things have happened in _your_ family?" he ended with sudden
+suspicion,
+
+"Never!" protested the poor mother; "but Samuel, my dear--Sammy, my
+darling--"
+
+The senior warden raised a majestic hand. "Silence, if you please,
+Eliza." Then he thrust his right hand into his bosom, rested his left
+fist on the marble-topped centre-table, and advanced one foot.
+Standing thus, he began to tell his son what he thought of him, and as
+he proceeded his anger mounted, he forgot his periods and his
+attitudes, and his voice grew shrill and mean. But, alas, he could not
+tell the boy all that he thought; he could not tell him of his high
+ambitions for him, of his pitiful desire for his love, of his
+anguished fear lest he might be unhappy, or foolish, or bad. These
+thoughts the senior warden had never known how to speak. Instead, he
+detailed his grievances and his disappointments; he told Sam with
+ruthless candor what the world called his conduct: dishonest, idiotic,
+ungrateful. He had a terrifying string of adjectives, and through them
+all the boy looked out of the window. Once, at a particularly
+impassioned period, he glanced at his father with interest; that
+phrase would be fine in a play, he reflected. Then he looked out of
+the window again.
+
+"And now," Mr. Wright ended sonorously, "what reply have you to make,
+sir?"
+
+Sam looked confused. "I beg your pardon, father? I did not hear what
+you were saying."
+
+Samuel Wright stared at him, speechless.
+
+As for the boy, he said calmly, "Good night, father," and went up-
+stairs to his own room where he began his packing. The next morning he
+had gone.
+
+"Where?" asked Dr. Lavendar, when the angry father brought him the
+news. "I do not know," said the senior warden, "and I do not--"
+
+"Yes, you do," said Dr. Lavendar; "but that's not the point. The point
+is that it doesn't really matter, except for our comfort, whether we
+know or not. Sam is a man, and our protection is an impertinence. He's
+taking a dive on his own account. And as I look at it, he has a right
+to. But he'll come up for breath, and then we'll get some information.
+And he'll get some sense."
+
+But of course the Wright family was in a most distressed state. The
+mother was overwhelmed with anxious grief; the father was consumed
+with mortification and blazing with anger.
+
+"He didn't take his second-weight flannels," moaned Mrs. Wright; "he
+will catch cold. Oh, where is he? And nobody knows how to cook his
+hominy for him but our Betsy. Oh, my boy!"
+
+"Good riddance," said Sam senior between his teeth; "ungrateful
+puppy!"
+
+Dr. Lavendar had his hands full. To reassure the mother, and tell her
+that the weather was so warm that Sam couldn't use the second-weight
+flannels if he had them, and that when he came back Betsy's hominy
+would seem better than ever--"Old Chester food will taste mighty
+good, after a few husks," said Dr. Lavendar, cheerfully--to tell Sam
+senior that a grateful puppy would be an abnormal monster, and to
+refrain from telling him that whatever a father sows he is pretty sure
+to reap--took time and strength. So Dr. Lavendar did not enter very
+heartily into William King's plans for a surprise-party. However, he
+did promise to come, if the doctor succeeded in getting Old Chester
+together.
+
+Meantime he and Danny and Goliath went up to The Top to tell Benjamin
+Wright about Sam's Sam. The grandfather displayed no surprise.
+
+"I knew he was going to clear out," he said; he was poking about among
+his canaries when Dr. Lavendar came in, and he stopped and sat down,
+panting. "These fowls wear me out," he complained. "Whiskey? No? Dear
+me! Your senior warden's got you to sign the pledge, I suppose? Well,
+I will; to drink the cub's health. He'll amount to something yet, if
+he doesn't eat his fatted calf too soon. Fatted calf is very bad for
+the digestion."
+
+"Wright, I don't suppose you need to be told that you behaved
+abominably Sunday night? Do you know where Sam is?"
+
+"I don't; and I don't want to. Behaved abominably? He wouldn't shake
+hands with me! Sam told me he was going, and I gave him some money--
+well! why do you look at me like that? Gad-a-mercy, ain't he my
+grandson? Besides, since our love-feast, ain't it my duty to help his
+father along? I've had a change of heart," he said, grinning; "where's
+your joy over the one sinner that repenteth? I'm helping young Sam, so
+that old Sam may get some sense. Lavendar, the man who has not learned
+what a damned fool he is, hasn't learned anything. And if I mistake
+not, the boy will teach my very respectable son, who won't smoke and
+won't drink, that interesting fact. As for the boy, he will come back
+a man, sir. A man! Anyway, I've done my part. I offered him money and
+advice--like the two women grinding at the mill, one was taken and the
+other was left. Yes; I've done my part. I've evened things up. I gave
+him his first tobie, and his first drink, and now I've given him a
+chance to see the world--which your senior warden once said was a
+necessary experience for a young man. I've evened things up!" He
+thrust a trembling hand down into the blue ginger-jar for some orange-
+skin. "He said he'd pay the money back; I said, 'Go to thunder!' As if
+I cared about the money. I've got him out of Old Chester; that's all I
+care about."
+
+"Well," said Dr. Lavendar, "I hope you haven't got him merely out of
+the frying-pan."
+
+"So you think there is no fire in Old Chester? She's a pretty creetur,
+Lavendar, ain't she? Poor thing!"
+
+Dr. Lavendar did not follow the connection of ideas in the older man's
+mind, but he did say to himself, as he and Goliath went away, that it
+was queer how possessed Benjamin Wright was that Sam's love-making was
+dangerous. Then he sighed, and his face fell into troubled lines. For
+all his brave words, he wished he knew where the boy was; and though
+he was already late for dinner, he drew up at William King's door to
+ask the doctor if he had any new ideas on the subject.
+
+But Willy was not at home. Martha was sitting under the grape-vine
+trellis at the back door, topping and tailing gooseberries. From the
+kitchen behind her came the pleasant smell of preserving. She had a
+big yellow earthenware bowl in her lap, and excused herself for not
+rising when Dr. Lavendar came round the corner of the house to find
+her.
+
+"_I_ am a housekeeper, Dr. Lavendar. William thinks it's pretty
+not to understand housekeeping; but I expect if he didn't have
+preserves for his supper, he wouldn't think it was so pretty. No; he
+isn't at home, sir. He's gone out--with the thermometer at ninety--to
+see about that party he is getting up for Mrs., Richie. So long as he
+has time to spare from his patients, I should think he would like to
+take up my spare-room carpet for me. But, oh dear, no. He has to see
+about parties!"
+
+"William is always doing friendly things," said Dr. Lavendar, sitting
+down on the door-step and helping himself to a gooseberry from
+Martha's bowl. "You are going to make some fool for the supper, of
+course?" He took off his hat, and wiped his forehead with his big red
+handkerchief.
+
+"Oh, of course. I'm very tired, and I have my housekeeping to attend
+to; but I can make gooseberry fool. That's what I'm for."
+
+"When is this party?" said Dr. Lavendar. "I declare, I've been so
+worried about Sam's Sam, I've forgotten."
+
+"It's next week; Thursday. Yes; she can send that boy to his death,
+maybe; but we must have parties to cheer her up."
+
+"Oh, come now," Dr. Lavendar remonstrated; "I don't believe a glimpse
+of the world will kill him. And nobody can blame Mrs. Richie for his
+foolishness. I suppose we are all going?"
+
+"Everybody," Martha King said scornfully; "even Samuel Wright. He told
+his wife that he wouldn't have any nonsense about Sam, and she'd got
+to go. I think it's positively cruel; because of course everybody
+knows that the boy was in love with this housekeeper that doesn't know
+how to make soap!" Martha shook her bowl sharply, and the toppling
+green pyramid crumbled. Dr. Lavendar looked at her over his
+spectacles; instantly her face reddened, and she tossed her head. "Of
+course, you understand that I haven't the slightest personal feeling
+about it. That's one thing about me, Dr. Lavendar, I may not be
+perfect, but nobody despises anything like--that, more than I do. I
+merely regret William's judgment."
+
+"Regret William's judgment! Why, think of the judgment he displayed in
+choosing a wife," said Dr. Lavendar. But when he climbed into his old
+buggy he had the grace to be ashamed of himself; he admitted as much
+to Danny. "For she's a sensible woman, Daniel, and, at bottom, kind."
+Danny yawned, and Dr. Lavendar added, "Poor Willy!"
+
+Mrs. Richie's first hint of Dr. King's proposed festivity came a week
+later from David, who happened to be at home to dinner, and who saw
+fit to mention that Lydia Wright wasn't to be allowed to come up with
+her father and mother.
+
+"Come up where?" Mrs. Richie said, idly. She was leaning forward, her
+elbows on the table, watching the child eat. When he said, "To your
+party to-night," she sat up in astonished dismay.
+
+"My _what?_ David! Tell me--exactly. Who is coming? Oh, dear!"
+she ended, tears of distress standing in her eyes.
+
+David continued to eat his rice pudding. "Can I sit up till nine?"
+
+Mrs. Richie pushed her chair back from the table, and caught her lower
+lip between her teeth. What should she do? But even as she asked
+herself the question, Dr. King stood, smiling, in the French window
+that opened on to the lawn.
+
+"May I come in?" he said.
+
+The fact was, a misgiving had risen in William's mind; perhaps a
+complete surprise would not be pleasant. Perhaps she would rather have
+an idea of what was going to happen. Perhaps she might want to dress
+up, or something. And so he dropped in to give a hint: "Half a dozen
+of us are coming in tonight to say how-do-you-do," he confessed,
+("Whew! she doesn't need to dress up," he commented inwardly.) The red
+rose in her hair and her white cross-barred muslin with elbow sleeves
+seemed very elegant to William. He was so lost in admiration of her
+toilet, that her start of angry astonishment escaped him.
+
+"Dr. King," said David, scraping up the sugar from his saucer, "is God
+good because He likes to be, or because He has to be?"
+
+"David," said William King, "you will be the death of me!"
+
+"Because, if He likes to be," David murmured, "I don't see why He gets
+praised; and if He has to be, why--"
+
+"Dr. King," said Helena breathlessly, "I'm afraid--really, I'm not
+prepared for company; and--"
+
+"Oh," said William, cheerfully, "don't bother about that. Mrs. King is
+going to bring up one or two little things, and I believe Mrs. Barkley
+has some ideas on the subject. Well, I must be going along. I hope you
+won't be sorry to see us? The fact is, you are too lonely up here with
+only David to keep you busy, though I must say, if he fires off
+questions like this one, I should think you would be pretty well
+occupied!"
+
+When he had gone, Helena Richie sat looking blankly at David. "What on
+earth shall I do!" she said aloud.
+
+"Did God make Sarah?" David demanded.
+
+"Yes, dear, yes!"
+
+"Did He make me, and the Queen, and my rabbits?"
+
+"Why, of course. Oh, David, you do ask so many questions!"
+
+"Everything has to be made," he ruminated.
+
+She agreed, absently. David put his spoon down, deeply interested.
+
+"Who made God?--another god, higher up?"
+
+"I think," she said, "that I'll send word I have a headache!"
+
+David sighed, and gave up theological research, "Dr. King didn't look
+at my scar, but I made Theophilus Bell pay me a penny to show it to
+him. Mrs. Richie, when I am a man, I'm _never_ going to wash behind my
+ears. I tell Sarah so every morning, I'm going to see my rabbits, now.
+Good-by."
+
+He slipped down from his chair and left her to her perplexity--as if
+she had not perplexity enough without this! For the last few days she
+had been worried almost to death about Mr. Benjamin Wright. She had
+not written to Lloyd yet of that terrible interview in the garden
+which would drive her from Old Chester; she had been afraid to. She
+felt instinctively that his mood was not hospitable to any plan that
+would bring her to live in the East. He would be less hospitable if
+she came because she had been found out in Old Chester. But her
+timidity about writing to him was a curious alarm to her; it was a
+confession of something she would not admit even long enough to deny
+it. Nevertheless, she did not write. "I will to-morrow," she assured
+herself each day, But now, on top of her worry of indecision and
+unacknowledged fear, came this new dismay--a party! How furious Lloyd
+would be if he heard of it; well, he must not hear of it. But what
+could she do? If she put it off with a flimsy excuse, it would only
+defer the descent upon her. How helpless she was! They would come,
+these people, they would be friendly; she could not escape them.
+
+"Oh, I must stop this kind of thing," she said to herself,
+desperately.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+With the exception of Benjamin Wright, all Old Chester lent itself to
+William King's project with very good grace. Mr. Wright said, gruffly,
+that a man with one foot in the grave couldn't dance a jig, so he
+preferred to stay at home. But the rest of Old Chester said that
+although she was so quiet and kept herself to herself so much, Mrs.
+Richie was a ladylike person; a little shy, perhaps--or perhaps only
+properly hesitant to push her way into society; at any rate it was but
+kind to show her some attention.
+
+"Her modesty does her credit," Mrs. Barkley said, "but it will be
+gratifying to her to be noticed. I'll come, William, and bring a cake.
+And Maria Welwood shall tell Ezra to take three bottles of Catawba."
+
+A little before eight, the company began to assemble, full of such
+cordial courtesy that Mrs. Richie's shrinking and awkward coldness
+only incited them to heartier friendliness. Dr. King, master of
+ceremonies, was ably assisted by his Martha. Mrs. King may have been,
+as she told all the guests, very tired, but she could be depended upon
+to be efficient. It was she who had engaged Uncle Davy and his fiddle;
+she who put the cakes and wine and fruit upon the dining-room table,
+already somewhat meagerly arranged by Helena's reluctant hands; she
+who bustled about to find card-tables, and induced Tom Dilworth to
+sing;
+
+  "_Thou--Thou reignest in this bosom!--_"
+
+and got Mr. Ezra Barkley to ask statistical conundrums.
+
+"It's well there is somebody to attend to things," she said in a dry
+aside to William. "Mrs. Richie just walks around as if she didn't
+belong here. And she lets that child sit up until this hour! I can't
+understand how a sensible woman can deliberately spoil a child.--I'd
+like to know what that perfume is that she uses," she ended frowning.
+
+It was after supper, while the husband and wife, still oppressed with
+their responsibilities, were standing in the doorway looking in upon
+the cheerful party now in full enjoyment of its own hospitality, that
+Eddy Minns came up behind them and touched William King's arm.
+
+"Dr. King," he said breathlessly, "a telegram, sir. For Mrs. Richie.
+And mother said it was bad news!"
+
+"Oh, William!" said Martha; "bad news! Do you know what it is, Eddy?"
+
+"Somebody is dead," the boy said, important and solemn.
+
+"Her brother?" William King asked in dismay.
+
+"Well, not the brother that comes here; his name is Lloyd, mother
+said. This is somebody whose name begins with 'F.' Perhaps another
+brother. Mother showed the despatch to me; it just said: 'F. died
+suddenly yesterday in Paris.' It was signed 'S. R.'"
+
+"It isn't from Pryor, then," William commented.
+
+"Oh, William," Martha whispered, "what shall we do? Must you give it
+to her _now?_--oh, William!"
+
+Dr. King stood staring at the orange-colored envelope in silence.
+
+"Shall I call Dr. Lavendar?" Martha asked breathlessly.
+
+"Wait," her husband said; "let me think: it may not be anybody very
+near and dear; but whether it is or not, there is nothing she can do
+about it to-night. The telegraph-office is closed. I don't see why her
+evening need be spoiled. No; I won't give it to her now. When the
+people go--"
+
+"Oh, dear! Dr. Lavendar says we must end up with a reel. But I'll get
+them off as soon as I can," Martha declared, in her capable voice,
+"and then I'll break it to her."
+
+"I will tell her," the doctor said. He put the envelope in his pocket
+with a troubled frown.
+
+"If she is in affliction, a woman will be more comfort to her than a
+man," Martha instructed him. "Look at her now, poor thing! She little
+thinks--No indeed; I must stay with her. I'm very tired, and she's not
+very friendly, but I won't shirk my duty on that account. That's one
+thing about me: I may not be perfect, but I don't let personal
+feelings interfere with duty."
+
+"It isn't your duty," William said impatiently; "you'd better arrange
+about the reel." And with that he left her. But he was so uneasy at
+withholding the telegram that he forgot to choose a partner, and let
+Martha push him into place opposite Miss Maggie Jay, who was so stout
+that when the two large bodies went jigging down the lane, the
+clasping hands arched above their heads had to break apart to give
+them room.
+
+"She may think I ought to have told her at once," William was saying
+to himself, watching Mrs. Richie with such furtive attention that he
+forgot to turn his partner, until Martha's sharp reminder set him
+shuffling his feet, and grinning in a sickly way at panting Miss
+Maggie.... "Who is 'F.'? Will 'F.'s death be a great grief? Will she
+suffer?" William King's kind heart began to beat thickly in his
+throat. If she should cry! He bowed, with stiffly swinging arms to
+Miss Maggie. He thought of Helena,--who was moving through the dance
+as a flower sways on its stalk,--as one thinks of a child in pain;
+with the impulse to hold out his arms. In his absorption he stood
+stock-still--but happily the reel was over, and the people were
+beginning to say good-by. He drew a long breath of relief at getting
+rid of them, and as he stood waiting, Martha plucked at his sleeve.
+"Give me the despatch; I'll break it to her."
+
+He looked at her with absent eyes. "No; I'll see to it. Do start,
+Martha, and maybe that will hurry them off!"
+
+Mrs. King drew back, affronted. "Oh, very well," She said; and made
+her cold adieux.
+
+But Helena Richie was oblivious of Mrs. King's coldness; her anxiety
+and dismay had grown into an uncontrollable nervousness, and when at
+last, thinking she was alone, she threw up her arms with a gesture of
+relief, the sight of William King, coming gravely towards her, made
+her break into an angry exclamation. But before she knew it, he had
+taken her hand, and was holding it in his kind clasp.
+
+"Mrs. Richie, I am afraid I must give you bad news."
+
+"Bad--news--?"
+
+"A telegram has come," he began, taking the envelope from his pocket;
+but she interrupted him, Seizing it with a sort of gasp and tearing it
+open. A moment later she stood quite still, looking at the despatch,
+then with dilating eyes at the doctor, and again at the despatch. She
+pressed her fingers hard against her lips, and he saw that she was
+trembling.
+
+"You must sit down," he said gently, and put his big, quiet hand on
+her shoulder. She sank under his firm touch into a chair.
+
+"It is not--bad news."
+
+"I am glad of that," William said. "But you are a little pale," he
+added smiling.
+
+"It was a shock."
+
+"I am glad it was nothing more."
+
+She spread out the telegram and read it again. She did not seem to
+hear him. Dr. King looked at her uneasily. There was certainly no
+grief in her face, yet her color did not come back.
+
+"Some one is dead," she said. "Not--a friend." William was silent.
+"But it startled me."
+
+"Yes," the doctor said.
+
+"Oh, Dr. King!" she cried violently; and put her hands over her face.
+He thought with relief that tears had come. "He was--an enemy," she
+said. "He is dead, Mrs. Richie; forgive him."
+
+She did not answer. It was all William King could do not to stroke the
+soft hair of the bent head, and say "Don't cry," as if to a child. But
+when she lifted her face, her eyes were quite dry; there was a
+flashing look in them that broke into breathless, wavering laughter.
+
+"I beg your pardon; it is just the--the shock, you know."
+
+"Yes," the doctor said; "I know." He could not help covering with his
+big, warm palm, the shaking hands that were pulling and twisting the
+telegram. "There, there! My dear Mrs. Richie--where is that bromide I
+gave you for David? I want you to take some."
+
+"Oh, it isn't necessary; truly it isn't. I am not unhappy. I am just--
+"
+
+"You are startled; and you must have a good night's sleep. Is the
+bromide in David's room? I'll get it."
+
+When he came back with the medicine, she took it hurriedly--anything
+to get rid of him! "Is there anything I can do?" he said. "Do you want
+to send any reply? I can take it down to-night and send it the first
+thing in the morning."
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed, "what am I thinking of! Of course, a message--I
+must send a message! Will you take it? Oh, I am afraid I trouble you
+very much, but you are so kind. I'll go and write it."
+
+She tried to rise, but she was still so shaken that involuntarily he
+put out his hand to help her. At the old mahogany desk between the
+windows she hunted about for paper and pencil, and when she found
+them, wrote for a moment, rapidly; then paused, and tore the paper up.
+William glanced at her side-wise; she was pressing the pencil against
+her lips, her left hand opening and closing with agitation. The doctor
+shook his head. "That won't do," he said to himself. Again she wrote;
+again hesitated; again tore the sheet of paper across. It seemed to
+him that he waited a long time. But when she brought him the message,
+it was very short; only: _"F. is dead,"_ and her initials. It was
+addressed to Mr. Lloyd Pryor.
+
+"I am very much obliged to you," she said; her color was coming back,
+and she had evidently got control of herself. But she hardly noticed
+William's farewell, and he had not reached the front door before she
+began to pace up and down the parlor.
+
+"Well!" said Martha, "was it a brother, or sister? How did she take
+it? I suppose you think she found it easier because you broke it to
+her. I must say, William, flatly and frankly, that I think a nice
+woman would rather have a woman near her when she is in trouble, than
+a man. I was very tired, but I was perfectly willing to remain. Well!
+what relation was this F.? A cousin?"
+
+"Why, I don't know," the doctor confessed blankly; "she didn't say,
+and it never occurred to me to ask; and--"
+
+"Well, upon my word!" said Martha King.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+Helena stood breathing quickly; it was as if she had been smothering,
+and suddenly felt free air. She was alone. The people--the terrible,
+persistently friendly, suffocating people, were gone! She could draw a
+full breath; she could face her own blazing fact; ... _Frederick was
+dead._
+
+She was walking back and forth, staring with unseeing eyes at the
+confusion of the room--chairs pulled out from their accustomed places;
+two card-tables with a litter of cards and counters; the astral-lamp
+burning low on the rosewood table that was cluttered with old
+daguerreotypes belonging to the house. The dining-room door was ajar,
+and as she passed it she had a glimpse of the empty disorder of the
+room, and could hear her two women moving about, carrying off plates
+and glasses and talking to each other.
+
+"Well, I like company," she heard Sarah say. "I wish she'd have
+somebody in every day."
+
+And Maggie's harsh murmur: "You ain't got to cook for 'em." Then the
+clatter of forks and spoons in the pantry.
+
+"Seemed to me like as if she wasn't real glad to see 'em," Sarah
+commented. "My! look at all this here good cake crumbled up on
+somebody's plate."
+
+"Well, a widow woman don't enjoy company," Maggie explained.
+
+A minute later Sarah came bustling in to close the parlor windows for
+the night, and started to find the room still occupied. "I thought you
+had gone upstairs, ma'am," the girl stammered, wondering nervously if
+she had said anything that she would not care to have overheard.
+
+"I am going now," Mrs. Richie said, drawing a long breath, and opening
+and shutting her eyes in a dazed way;--"like as if she'd been asleep
+and was woke up, sudden," Sarah told Maggie later.
+
+In her own room, the door locked, she sank down in a chair, her
+clasped hands falling between her knees, her eyes staring at the
+floor.
+
+_Dead._
+
+How long he had been about dying. Thirteen years ago Lloyd had said,
+"He'll drink himself to death in six months; and then--!" Well; at
+least part of the programme was carried out: he drank. But he did not
+die. No; he went on living, living, living! That first year they were
+constantly asking each other for news of him: "Have you heard
+anything?" "Yes; an awful debauch. Oh, he can't stand it. He'll be in
+his grave before Christmas." But Christmas came, and Frederick was
+still living. Then it was "before spring"--"before fall"--"before
+Christmas" again. And yet he went on living. And she had gone on
+living, too. At first, joyously, except when she brooded over the
+baby's death; then impatiently--for Frederick would not die! Then,
+gradually, gradually, with weary acceptance of the situation. Only in
+the last two or three years had she begun to live anxiously, as she
+realized how easily Lloyd was accepting Frederick's lease of life.
+Less and less often he inquired whether Mr. Raynor had mentioned
+Frederick's health in the letter that came with her quarterly
+statement. By and by, it was she, not Lloyd, who asked, "Have you
+heard anything of Frederick?"
+
+The house was quite silent now, except when Sarah trudged up the back
+stairs with the clanking silver-basket on her arm. The lamp on the
+corner of her bureau flickered, and a spark wavered up the chimney;
+the oil was gone and the wick charring. She got up and blew the
+smouldering flame out; then sat down again in the darkness.... Yes;
+Lloyd was no longer vitally interested in Frederick's health. She must
+make up her mind to that. But after all, what difference did that
+make? He loved her just the same, only men are not like women, they
+don't keep on saying so,--for that matter, she herself did not say so
+as often as in those first days. But of course she loved him just as
+much. She had grown a little dull, she supposed. No; she would not
+distrust him. She was sure he loved her. Yet behind her most emphatic
+assertions cowered that dumb apprehension which had struck its cold
+talons into her heart the day that David had hurt his hand: ...
+_Suppose Frederick's death should be an embarrassment to Lloyd!_
+
+In the darkness, with the brush of the locust branches against the
+closed shutters of the east window, her face blazed with angry color,
+and she threw her head up with a surge of pride. "If he doesn't want
+me, I don't want him!" she said aloud. She pulled the lace bertha from
+her shoulders, and began to take out her hairpins, "I sha'n't be the
+one to say 'Let us be married.'"
+
+When she lay down in the darkness, her eyes wide open, her arms
+straight at her sides, it flashed into her mind that Frederick was
+lying still and straight, too. His face must be white, now; sunken,
+perhaps; the leer of his pale eyes changed into the sly smile of the
+dead. _Dead._ Oh, at last, at last!--and her mind rushed back to
+its own affairs....That horrible old Mr. Wright and his insinuations;
+how she had worried over them and over the difficulty of getting away
+from Old Chester, only that afternoon. Ah, well, she need never think
+of such things again, for never again could any one have an insulting
+thought about her; and as for her fear that Lloyd would not want her
+to leave Old Chester--why, he would take her away himself! And once
+outside of Old Chester, she would have a place in the world like other
+women. She was conscious of a sudden and passionate elation: _Like
+other women._ The very words were triumphant! Yes; like that
+dreadful Mrs. King; oh, how intolerably stupid the woman was, how she
+disliked her; but when Lloyd came and they went away together, she
+would be like Mrs. King! She drew an exultant breath and smiled
+proudly in the darkness. For the moment the cowering fear was
+forgotten....How soon could he come? He ought to have the telegram by
+ten the next morning--too late to catch the express for Mercer. He
+would take the night train, and arrive at noon on Saturday. A day and
+a half to wait. And at that she realized with sudden astonishment that
+it was still Thursday. It seemed hours and hours since she had read
+that telegram. Yet it was scarcely an hour ago that she had been
+dancing the Virginia reel with those terrible people! A little later
+she had noticed William King lingering behind the departing guests;
+how annoyed she had been at his slowness. Then he had taken that
+envelope out of his pocket--she gasped again, remembering the shock of
+its contents.
+
+In this tumult of broken and incoherent thought, the night passed. It
+was not until dawn that her mind cleared enough for consecutive
+thinking, and when it did she was so fatigued that she fell asleep and
+slept heavily till awakened by an anxious knock at her door. Had Mrs.
+Richie one of her headaches? Should Sarah bring her some coffee?
+
+"Why, what time is it? Has David gone to school? What! ten o'clock!"
+She was broad awake at that--he must have got the despatch. Allowing
+for delays, his answer ought to reach her by noon.
+
+She sprang up with the instinct to do something to get ready! She
+began to plan her packing, the thrill of action tingling through her.
+She dressed hurriedly, looking incessantly at the clock, and then
+laughing to herself. What difference did it make how late it was? By
+no possibility could Lloyd appear on the morning stage; unless, yes,
+it _was_ possible; Mr. Raynor might have telegraphed him. No; Mr.
+Raynor had never recognized the situation. Lloyd could not reach her
+until noon on Saturday; he could only telegraph. She sighed and
+resigned herself to facts, drinking the coffee Sarah brought her, and
+asking whether David was all right. "Poor darling, having his
+breakfast all alone," she said. Then she looked at the clock; Lloyd's
+despatch could hardly arrive for another hour.
+
+The still, hot morning stretched interminably before her. A dozen
+times it was on her lips to order the trunks brought down from the
+garret. A dozen times some undefined sense of fitness held her back.
+When his answer came, when he actually said the word--then; but not
+till then.... What time was it? After eleven! She would go into the
+garden, where she could look down the road and have the first glimpse
+of Eddy Minns climbing the hill. With her thoughts in galloping
+confusion, she put on her flat hat with its twist of white lace about
+the crown, and went out into the heat. From the bench under the big
+poplar she looked across at the girdling hills, blue and hot in the
+still flood of noon; below her was the valley, now a sea of treetops
+islanded with Old Chester roofs and chimneys; there was no gleam of
+the river through the midsummer foliage. She took her watch out of the
+little watch-pocket at her waist--nearly twelve! If he had got the
+despatch at nine, it was surely time for an answer. Still, so many
+things might have happened to delay it. He might have been late in
+getting to his office; or, for that matter, Eddy Minns might be slow
+about coming up the hill. Everybody was slow in Old Chester!
+
+The empty road ran down to the foot of the hill, no trudging messenger
+climbed its hot slope. Twelve.
+
+"I'll not look at the road for five minutes," she told herself,
+resolutely, and sat staring at the watch open in her hand. Five
+minutes later she snapped the lid shut, and looked. Blazing, unbroken
+sunshine. "It ought to have been here by this time," she thought with
+a tightening of her lips. Perhaps he was away? Her heart sank at that;
+but how absurd! Suppose he was. What did a few hours' waiting amount
+to? She had waited thirteen years.
+
+For another hour she watched in the heat and silence of the garden;
+then started to hear Sarah, at her elbow, saying that dinner was on
+the table.
+
+"Very well," she answered impatiently. "I'll wait another five
+minutes," she said to herself. But she waited ten. When she sat down
+in the dining-room, she ate almost nothing. Once she asked Sarah if
+she knew how long it took for a despatch to come from Philadelphia to
+Old Chester. Sarah gaped at the question, and said she didn't know as
+she'd ever heard.
+
+In the afternoon, with covert glances out of the window, she kept
+indoors and tried to put her mind on practical things: the
+arrangements with her landlord for cancelling the lease; the packing
+and shipping of furniture. At last, on a sudden impulse, she said to
+herself that she would go and meet David as he came home from school--
+and call at the telegraph-office.
+
+In the post-office, where the telegraph bound Old Chester to the outer
+world, Mrs. Minns, looking up from her knitting, saw the tense face at
+the delivery window.
+
+"No letters for you, Mrs. Richie," she said; then she remembered the
+telegram that had by this time interested all Old Chester, and got up
+and came forward, sympathetically curious. "Well'm; I suppose there's
+a good deal of dyin' this time of year?"
+
+"Have you a despatch for me?" Mrs. Richie said curtly.
+
+"No'm;" said Mrs. Minns.
+
+"Did Dr. King send a telegram for me this morning?" she asked in a
+sudden panic of alarm.
+
+"Yes'm," the postmistress said, "he sent it."
+
+Mrs. Richie turned away, and began to walk about the office; up and
+down, up and down. Once she stopped and read the names on the
+pigeonholes of the letter-rack; once the telegraph instrument clicked,
+and she held her breath: "Is that mine?"
+
+"It ain't," Mrs. Minns said laconically.
+
+Helena went to the open doorway, and gazed blankly out into Main
+Street. She might as well go home; he wasn't going to telegraph. She
+told herself that he was out of town, and had not received her
+despatch. But her explanation was not convincing; if he was away, the
+despatch would have been forwarded to him. It must be that as he was
+coming on Saturday, he had not thought it worth while to telegraph.
+She wandered aimlessly out into the hot street--there was no use
+waiting any longer; and as for meeting David, he had gone home long
+ago.
+
+As she went up the street, Dr. Lavendar stopped her. He had been told
+that the news of the night before did not mean affliction, but Dr.
+Lavendar knew that there are worse things than affliction, so he stood
+ready to offer comfort if it was needed. But apparently it was not
+wanted, and after a minute's pause, he began to speak of his own
+affairs: "I've been wondering if you would trust David to me for two
+or three days in October."
+
+"David?" she repeated, blankly; her mind was very far away from David.
+
+"I have to go to Philadelphia then;" Dr. Lavendar was really eager;
+"and if you will let me take him along--I guess Rose Knight will let
+him off--we would have a fine time!"
+
+"Certainly, Dr. Lavendar," she said, courteously. But she thought
+quickly, that she and David would not be in Old Chester in October.
+However, she could not explain that to Dr. Lavendar. It was easier to
+say yes, and be done with it. "Good evening," she added impatiently,
+for the old gentleman would have kept her indefinitely, talking about
+David.
+
+But as she climbed the hill her mind went out to the child with the
+relief of one who in darkness opens a door towards the light. She
+found him in the parlor, curled up in a big chair by the window,
+looking at a picture-book. He climbed down immediately, and came and
+took her hand in his, a demonstration of affection so unusual that she
+caught him in her arms and might have cuddled him with the undesired
+"forty kisses," if he had not gently moved his head aside. But her
+eyes were so blurred with tears of fatigue and Fright she did not
+notice the rebuff.
+
+The next twenty-four hours were tense with expectation and fear.
+Helena's mind veered almost with every breath: He had not telegraphed
+because he had not received her despatch; because he was away from
+home; because he was coming on Saturday;--_because he was sorry
+Frederick was dead..._
+
+Saturday morning she and David watched the hill road from nine o'clock
+until stage-time. From the green bench under the poplar, the tavern
+porch on Main Street could just be seen; and at a little before twelve
+Jonas's lean, shambling nags drew up before it. Mrs. Richie was very
+pale. David, fretting at the dullness of the morning, asked her some
+question, but She did not hear him, and he pulled at her skirt. "Does
+everything grow?"
+
+"Yes, dear, yes; I suppose so."
+
+"How big is everything when it begins to grow?"
+
+"Oh, dear little boy, don't ask so many questions!"
+
+"When you began to grow, how big were you? Were you an inch big?"
+
+"If he has come," she said breathlessly, "the stage will get up here
+in fifteen minutes!"
+
+David sighed.
+
+"Oh, why don't they start?" she panted; "what _is_ the matter!"
+
+"It's starting," David said.
+
+"Come, David, hurry!" she cried. "We must be at the gate!" She took
+his hand, and ran down the path to the gate in the hedge. As she stood
+there, panting, she pressed her fingers hard on her lips; they must
+not quiver before the child. She kept her watch in her hand. "It isn't
+time yet to see them; it will take Jonas ten minutes to get around to
+the foot of the hill."
+
+Overhead the flicker of locust leaves cast checkering lights and
+shadows on her white dress and across the strained anxiety of her
+face. She kept her eyes on her watch, and the ten minutes passed in
+silence. Then she went out into the road and looked down its length of
+noon-tide sunshine; the stage was not in sight. "Perhaps," she
+thought, "it would take twenty minutes to get to the foot of the hill?
+I'll not look down the road for ten minutes more." After a while she
+said faintly, "Is it--coming?"
+
+"No'm," David assured her, "Mrs. Richie, what does God eat?"
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"Does he eat us?"
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Helena lifted her head, suddenly, "It would take twenty-five minutes--
+I'm sure it would."
+
+She got up and walked a little way down the road, David tagging
+thoughtfully behind her. There was no stage in sight. "David, run down
+the hill to the turn, and look."
+
+The little boy, nothing loath, ran, at the turn he shook his head, and
+called back, "No'm. Mrs. Richie, He _must_, 'cause there's nothing
+goes to heaven but us. Chickens don't," he explained anxiously. But
+she did not notice his alarm.
+
+"I'll wait another five minutes," she said. She waited ten; and then
+another ten. "David," she said, in a smothered voice, "go; tell Maggie
+he isn't coming--to dinner. You have your dinner, dear little boy.
+I--don't want any."
+
+She went up-stairs to her own room, and shut and locked the door. All
+was over....
+
+Yet when, in the early afternoon, the mail arrived, she had a pang of
+hope that was absolute agony, for he had written.
+
+There were only a dozen lines besides the "Dearest Nelly":
+
+"I am just starting out West, rather unexpectedly, on business. I am
+taking Alice along, and she is greatly delighted at the idea of a
+journey--her first. I don't know just when I'll get back; not for six
+weeks anyhow. Probably eight. Hope you and your youngster are all
+right.
+
+"Yours, L. P.
+
+"Your despatch received. We must talk things over the next time I come
+to Old Chester."
+
+She passed her hand over her eyes in a bewildered way; for a moment
+the words had absolutely no sense. Then she read them again: "We must
+talk things Over--"
+
+What things? Why, their marriage, of course! Their marriage? She burst
+out laughing; and David, looking at her, shrank away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+The next few days were intolerable. But of course, after the first
+passion of disappointment, she began to hope; he would write fully in
+a few days. She kept calculating how soon she might expect this fuller
+letter. She did not write to him, for as he had given no address it
+was evident that he did not wish to hear from her.
+
+That week passed, and then another, and though he wrote, he did not
+write "fully." In fact, he made no allusion whatever to Frederick, or
+the future. Helena was instant with explanation: he was absorbed with
+business; Alice was with him; he had no time. That these were absurd
+excuses she knew. But they were the best she could find, and she had
+to have excuses. It was at this time that she saw herself age. When
+still another week passed, the tension lessened; indeed, she would
+have broken down under the strain if she had not fallen into a sort of
+apathy. She told herself that after all there was no reason why she
+should leave Old Chester immediately. Mr. Benjamin Wright's insolence
+had been outrageous and he was a horrible old man; but he had said
+that he would not speak of her affairs. So as far as he was concerned
+she could perfectly well wait until that Western trip was over; she
+would just try not to think of him. So she played with David, and
+talked to him, and listened to his confidences about the journey to
+Philadelphia which Dr. Lavendar planned. It was more than two months
+off, but that did not trouble David. He and Dr. Lavendar had long
+talks on the subject, of which, occasionally, the little boy dropped
+condescending hints.
+
+"Maybe I'll take you to Philadelphia," Helena said once, jealously;
+"will you like that?"
+
+"Yes'm," said David, without enthusiasm.
+
+At which she reproached him; "I should think you would like to go with
+me, to see Liberty Bell?"
+
+Silence.
+
+"And maybe Mr. Pryor will take you to ride on a steamboat," she lured
+him.
+
+"I like Dr. Lavendar best," said David, with alarm.
+
+It was only David with whom Helena talked in these days of waiting;
+Old Chester found her still unsociable, and William King was obliged
+to admit that his party had not accomplished much. However, he
+insisted upon being sociable himself, and continued to come frequently
+to see her on the ground that she was not very well. Before she knew
+it she yielded again to the temptation of friendliness, and was glad
+to see the big, kind figure trudging up the garden path. He told her
+all the news Old Chester afforded, which was not extensive, and she
+replied with that listening silence which is so pleasant and that gave
+the doctor the opportunity--so valued by us all--of hearing himself
+talk; an opportunity not often allowed him in his own house. The
+silence covered bleak anxiety and often an entire absence of mind; but
+William, rambling on, could not know that. He was perfectly happy to
+look at her, although sometimes his face sobered, for hers had
+changed. It was paler; the delicate oval of her cheek had hollowed;
+the charming indolence had gone; the eyes had lost their sweet
+shallowness, something cowered in their depths that he could not
+clearly see--fear, perhaps, or pain. Or perhaps it was her soul.
+Sometimes when the body relaxes its grip a little, the convict soul
+within struggles up to look with frightened bewilderment out of the
+windows of its prison. Dr. King watching the childlike droop of
+Helena's lip, admitted reluctantly that she had changed. "Depressed,"
+he told himself. So he did his best to cheer her with Old Chester's
+harmless gossip; and one day--it was in September--she did show a
+quick and even anxious interest.
+
+"Sam Wright's Sam has come back," the doctor said, "the young man
+arrived on the noon stage. I wonder what monkey-shines he'll be up to
+next!"
+
+"_Oh!_" she said, and he saw her hands clasp in her lap; "I wonder if
+his grandfather knows?"
+
+The color was hot in her face, and William said to himself that the
+cub ought to be thrashed! "Maybe he's got some sense by this journey
+in search of a publisher," he announced comfortingly.
+
+In her consciousness of old Mr. Wright's dismay, she hardly heard what
+the doctor said; but she asked vaguely if Sam had found a publisher.
+
+"Perhaps; I don't know. There are fools in every profession--except
+medicine, of course! But I believe he has not imparted any information
+on that point. His father merely told me he had come back." In spite
+of himself, William's face fell into its own kind lines. "His father
+is hard on him," he said; and then he began to tell her stories of the
+three generations of Wrights; ending with the statement that, in a
+dumb sort of fashion, Samuel loved his son like the apple of his eye.
+"But he has always taken hold of him the wrong way," William said.
+
+Certainly the doctor's opinion was borne out by the way in which Sam
+senior took hold of his son on his return. Reproaches were perhaps to
+be expected, but, alas, the poor, sore-hearted father tried sneers as
+well. A sneer is like a flame; it may occasionally be curative because
+it cauterizes, but it leaves a bitter scar. Of his dreadful anxiety in
+these seven or eight weeks of absence, of his sleepless nights, of his
+self-accusings, of his anguished affection, the senior warden could
+find nothing to say; but for anger and disappointment and contempt he
+had fluent and searing words. Such words were only the recoil from
+anxiety; but Sam could not know that; he only knew that he was a
+disgrace to his family. The information left him apparently unmoved.
+He did not betray--very likely he really did not recognize in
+himself--the moral let-down that is almost always the result of such
+upbraiding. He was silent under his father's reproaches, and patient
+under his mother's embraces. He vouchsafed no information beyond, "I
+had to come back," which was really no information at all. Mr. Wright
+sneered at it, but Mrs. Wright was moved, she said, her mild eyes
+swimming in tears, "Of course, Sammy, dear. Mother understands. I knew
+you couldn't stay away from us."
+
+Sam sighed, submitting to be kissed, and turned to go up-stairs; but
+something made him hesitate,--perhaps his mother's worn face. He came
+back, and bending down kissed her cheek. Mrs. Wright caught her breath
+with astonishment, but the boy made no explanation. He went on up to
+his own room and standing listlessly at the window, said again to
+himself, "I had to come back." After a while he added "But I won't
+bother her." He had already forgotten the two sore hearts down-stairs.
+
+The next morning he hurried to church; but Mrs. Richie was not there,
+and in his disappointment he was as blind to Old Chester's curious
+glances as he was deaf to Dr. Lavendar's sermon.
+
+The long morning loitered past. After dinner the Wright family
+dispersed for its customary Sunday afternoon nap. The senior warden,
+with _The Episcopalian_, as large as a small blanket, spread over
+his face, slept heavily in the library; Mrs. Wright dozed in her
+bedroom with one finger marking her place in a closed volume of
+sermons; the little girls wandered stealthily about the garden,
+memorizing by their father's orders their weekly hymn. The house was
+still, and very hot. All the afternoon young Sam lay upon his bed
+turning the pages of _The Wealth of Nations_, and brooding over
+his failures: he could not make Mrs. Richie love him; he could not
+write a great drama; he could not add up a column of figures; he could
+not understand his father's rages at unimportant things; "and nobody
+cares a continental whether I am dead or alive!--except mother," he
+ended; and his face softened. At five o'clock he reminded himself that
+he must go up to The Top for supper. But it was nearly six before he
+had energy enough to rise. The fact was, he shrank from telling his
+grandfather that the drama was no longer in existence. He had been
+somewhat rudely rebuffed by the only person who had looked at his
+manuscript, and had promptly torn the play up and scattered the
+fragments out of the window of his boarding-house. That was two days
+ago. The curious lassitude which followed this _acces_ of passion
+was probably increased by the senior warden's reproaches. But Sam
+believed himself entirely indifferent both to his literary failure,
+and to his father's scolding. Neither was in his mind as he climbed
+the hill, and halted for a wistful moment at the green gate in the
+hedge; but he had no glimpse of Mrs. Richie.
+
+He found his grandfather sitting on the veranda behind the big white
+columns, reading aloud, and gesticulating with one hand:
+
+  "'But if proud Mortimer do wear this crown,
+  Heaven turn it to a blaze of quenchless fire
+  Or like the snaky wreath of Sisiphon--'"
+
+He looked up irritably at the sound of a step on the weedy driveway,
+then his eyes snapped with delight.
+
+"Hullo--hullo! what's this?"
+
+"I had to come back, grandfather," Sam said.
+
+"Well! Well!" said Benjamin Wright, his whole face wrinkling with
+pleasure. "'Had to come back?' Money gave out, I suppose? Sit down,
+sit down! Hi, Simmons! Damn that nigger. Simmons, here's Master Sam.
+What have you got for supper? Well, young man, did you get some sense
+knocked into you?" He was trembling with eagerness. Marlowe, in worm-
+eaten calf, dropped from his hand to the porch floor. Sam picked the
+book up, and sat down.
+
+"If you wanted some more money, why the devil didn't you say so?"
+
+"I had money enough, sir."
+
+"Well--what about the drama?" his grandfather demanded.
+
+"He said it was no good."
+
+"Who said it was no good?" Mr. Wright pulled off his hat, fiercely,
+and began to chew orange-skin. Sam, vaguely turning over the leaves of
+the book upon his knee, mentioned the name of a publisher. "Fool!"
+said Benjamin Wright; "what does he know? Well; I hope you didn't
+waste time over him. Then who did you send it to?"
+
+"Nobody."
+
+"Nobody! What did you do with it?"
+
+"Oh, tore it up," Sam said patiently.
+
+His grandfather fell back in his chair, speechless, A moment later, he
+told Sam he was not only a fool, but a d--
+
+"Supper's ready, suh," said Simmons. "Glad you're back, Master Sam. He
+ain't lookin' peart, suh?" Simmons added confidentially to Mr. Wright.
+
+"Well, you get some of that Maderia--'l2," commanded the old man,
+pulling himself up from his chair. "Sam, you are a born idiot, aren't
+you? Come and have some supper. Didn't I tell you you might have to
+try a dozen publishers before you found one who had any sense? Your
+experience just shows they're a fool lot. And you tore up your
+manuscript! Gad-a-mercy!" He grinned and swore alternately, and banged
+his hat on to his head so that his ears flattened out beneath the brim
+like two red flaps.
+
+They sat down at either end of the dining-room table, Simmons standing
+at one side, his yellow eyes gleaming with interested affection and
+his fly-brush of long peacock feathers waving steadily, even when he
+moved about with the decanter.
+
+"I had to come back," Sam repeated, and drank his glass of '12 Maderia
+with as much appreciation as if it had been water.
+
+"I've got a new family," Mr. Wright declared, "Simmons, unhook that
+second cage, and show him the nest. Look at that. Three of 'em.
+Hideous, ain't they? Simmons, you didn't chop that egg fine enough. Do
+you want to kill 'em all? A nigger has no more feeling for birds than
+a cat."
+
+"I done chop it, as--"
+
+"Hold your tongue!" said Mr. Wright, amiably "Here; take that." He
+fumbled in his vest pocket, and the peacock feathers dipped
+dangerously as Simmons caught the expected cigar. "Come, come, young
+man, haven't you had enough to eat? Give him another glass of wine,
+Simmons, you freckled nigger! Come out on the porch, and tell me your
+wanderings, Ulysses."
+
+The boy was faintly impressed by his grandfather's attentions; he felt
+that he was welcome, which gave him a vague sort of pleasure. On the
+porch, in the hot dusk, Benjamin Wright talked; once or twice, apropos
+of nothing, he quoted some noble stanza, apparently for the joy of the
+rolling numbers. The fact was, he was full of happiness at his
+grandson's return, but he had had so little experience in happiness
+that he did not know how to express it. He asked a good many
+questions, and received apathetic answers.
+
+"Have you got any notes of the drama?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Doggone your picter!--
+
+  "'Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song,
+  And let the young lambs bound
+  As to the tabor's sound!"
+
+So you made up your mind to come home?"
+
+"I had to come back, "Sam said.
+
+There was a pause. Benjamin Wright was reminding himself that in
+handling a boy, one must be careful not to Say the wrong thing; one
+must express one's self with reserve and delicacy; one must weigh
+one's words--boys were such jackasses.
+
+"Well;" he said, "got over your fool falling in love with a female old
+enough to be your mother?"
+
+Sam looked at him.
+
+"I hope your trip has put sense into you on that subject, anyhow?"
+
+"I love Mrs. Richie as much as I ever did, if that's what you mean,
+sir," Sam said listlessly.
+
+Upon which his grandfather flew into instant rage. "As much in love as
+ever! Gad-a-mercy! Well; I give you up, sir, I give you up. I spend my
+money to get you out of this place, away from this female, old enough
+to be your grandmother, and you come back and say you are as much in
+love with her as ever. I swear, I don't believe you have a drop of my
+blood in you!" He flung his cigar away, and plunged his hand down into
+the ginger-jar on the bench beside him; "A little boy like you, just
+in breeches! Why, your mother ought to put you over her knee, and--"
+he stopped. "You have no sense, Sam," he added with startling
+mildness.
+
+But Sam's face was as red as his grandfather's. "She is only ten years
+older than I. That is nothing. Nothing at all. If she will overlook my
+comparative youth and marry me, I--"
+
+"Damnation!" his grandfather screamed.. "_She_ overlook? _She_?"
+
+"I am younger," the boy said; "but love isn't a matter of age. It's a
+matter of the soul."
+
+"A matter of the soul!" said Benjamin Wright; "a matter of--of a
+sugar-tit for a toothless baby! Which is just about what you are. That
+female, I tell you could have dandled you on her knee ten years ago."
+
+Sam got up; he was trembling all over.
+
+"You needn't insult me," he said.
+
+Instantly his grandfather was calm. He stopped chewing orange-skin,
+and looked hard at his ridgy finger-nails.
+
+"I shall ask her again," Sam said. "I said I wouldn't, but I will. I
+must. That was why I came back. And as for my age, that's her business
+and mine."
+
+"You've drunk too much," said his grandfather, "Sit down. I've
+something to say to you. You can't marry that woman. Do you understand
+me?"
+
+"You mean she doesn't care for me?" Sam laughed noisily. "I'll make
+her. Old--young--what does it matter? She must!" He flung up his
+arms, and then sank down and hid his face in his hands.
+
+"Sammy," said the old man, and stopped. "Sam, it can't be. Don't you
+understand me? She isn't fit to marry."
+
+The young man gaped at him, blankly.
+
+"She's--bad," Benjamin Wright said, in a low voice.
+
+"How dare you!" cried the other, his frowning bewilderment changing
+slowly to fury; "how dare you? If she had a relative here to protect
+her, you would never dare! If her brother was here, he would shoot
+you; but she has me, and I--"
+
+"Her _brother_!" said Benjamin Wright; "Sam, my boy, he isn't her
+brother."
+
+"Isn't he?" Sam flung back at him, "well, what of that? I'm glad of
+it; I hate him." He stood up, his hands clenched, his head flung back.
+"What difference does it make to me what he is? Her cousin, her
+friend--what do I care? If she marries me, what do I care for
+relations?"
+
+His grandfather looked up at him aghast; the young, insulted innocence
+of love blazed in the boy's face. "Gad-a-mercy," said Mr. Wright, in a
+whisper, "_he doesn't understand!_" He pulled himself on to his
+shaking legs, and laid his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Sam," he
+said very gently, "he is her lover, my boy." Sam's lips fell apart;
+he gasped heavily; his hands slowly opened and shut, and he swayed
+from side to side; his wild eyes were fixed on that old face, all
+softened and moved and pitying. Then, with a discordant shriek of
+laughter, he flung out his open hand and struck his grandfather full
+in the face.
+
+"You old fool! You lie! You lie! Do you hear me?"
+
+Benjamin Wright, staggering slightly from the blow, tried to speak,
+but the boy, still laughing shrilly, leaped down the porch steps, and
+out into the darkness.
+
+"I'll ask her!" he screamed back; "you liar!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+Helena had gone up-stairs to put David to bed. There was some delay
+in the process, because the little boy wished to look at the stars,
+and trace out the Dipper. That accomplished however, he was very
+docile, and willing to get into bed by shinning up the mast of a
+pirate-ship--which some people might have called a bedpost. After he
+had fallen asleep, Helena still sat beside him in the darkness, her
+absent eyes fixed on the little warm body, where, the sheets kicked
+off, he sprawled in a sort of spread-eagle over the bed. It was very
+hot, and she would have been more comfortable on the porch, but she
+could not leave the child. When she was with David, the sense of
+aching apprehension dulled into the comfort of loving. After a while,
+with a long sigh she rose, but stopped to draw the sheet over his
+shoulders; then smiled to see how quickly he kicked it off. She pulled
+it up again as far as his knees, and to this he resigned himself with
+a despairing grunt.
+
+There was a lamp burning dimly in the hall; as she passed she took it
+up and went slowly down-stairs. Away from David, her thoughts fell at
+once into the groove of the past weeks. Each hour she had tormented
+herself by some new question, and now she was wondering what she
+should do if, when Lloyd came to fulfill his promise, she should see a
+shade, oh, even the faintest hint, of hesitation in his manner. Well;
+she would meet it! She threw her head up, and came down with a quicker
+step, carrying the lamp high, like a torch. But as she lifted her
+eyes, in that gust of pride, young Sam Wright stood panting in the
+doorway. As his strangled voice fell on her ear, she knew that he
+knew.
+
+"I have--come--"
+
+Without a word she put the lamp down on the table at the foot of the
+stairs, and looked at him standing there with the darkness of the
+night behind him. Instantly he was across the threshold and at her
+side. He gripped her wrist and shook it, his eyes burning into hers.
+
+"You will tell me that he lied! I told him he lied. I didn't believe
+him for a second. I told him I would ask you."
+
+"Please let go of my arm," she said, faintly. "I don't know what you
+are--talking about."
+
+"Did he lie?"
+
+"Who?" she stammered.
+
+"My grandfather. He said your brother was not your brother. He said he
+was your lover. My God! Your lover! Did he lie?" He shook her arm,
+worrying it as a dog might, his nails cutting into her flesh; he
+snarled his question out between shut teeth. His fury swept words from
+her lips.
+
+She stepped back with a spring of terror, trying to pull her wrist
+from his grasp; but he followed her, his dreadful young face close to
+hers. She put her other hand behind her, and clutched at the banister-
+rail of the stairs. She stared at him in a trance of fright. There was
+a long minute of silence.
+
+Then Sam said slowly, as though he were reading it word by word,
+aloud, from the open page of her face, "He--did--not--lie." He dropped
+her wrist; flung it from him, even, and stood motionless. Again
+neither of them spoke. Then Sam drew a long breath. "So, _this_
+is life," he said, in a curiously meditative way. "Well; I have had
+enough of it." He turned as he spoke, and went quietly out into the
+night.
+
+Helena Richie sat down on the lowest step of the stairs. She breathed
+in gasps. Suddenly she looked at her arm on which were four deep red
+marks; in two places the skin was broken. Upon the fierce pangs of her
+mind, flayed and stabbed by the boy's words, this physical pain of
+which she had just become conscious, was like some soothing lotion.
+She stroked her wrist tenderly, jealous of the lessening smart. She
+knew vaguely that she was really wincing lest the smart should cease
+and the other agony begin. She looked with blind eyes at the lamp,
+then got up and turned the wick down; it had been smoking slightly and
+a half-moon of black had settled on the chimney. "Sarah doesn't half
+look after the lamps," she said aloud, fretfully--and drew in her
+lips; the nail-marks stung. But the red was dying out of them. Yes;
+the other pain was coming back. She paled with fright of that pain
+which was coming; coming; had come. She covered her face with her
+hands....
+
+"Who," demanded a sleepy voice, "was scolding?"
+
+Helena looked around quickly; David, in his little cotton night-
+drawers, was standing at the head of the stairs.
+
+"Who scolded? I heard 'em," he said, beginning to come down, one
+little bare foot at a time; his eyes blinked drowsily at the lamp.
+Helena caught him in her arms, and sank down again on the step. But he
+struggled up out of her lap, and stood before her 'It's too hot," he
+said, "I heard 'em. And I came down. Was anybody scolding you?"
+
+"Yes, David," she said in a smothered voice.
+
+"Were you bad?" David asked with interest.
+
+Helena dropped her forehead on to his little warm shoulder. She could
+feel his heart beating, and his breath on her neck.
+
+"Your head's pretty heavy," said David patiently; "and hot."
+
+At that she lifted herself up, and tried to smile; "Come, dear
+precious, come up-stairs. Never mind if people scold me. I--deserve
+it."
+
+"Do you?" said David. "Why?"
+
+He was wide awake by this time, and pleaded against bed. "Tell me why,
+on the porch; I don't mind sitting on your lap out there," he bribed
+her; "though you are pretty hot to sit on," he added, truthfully.
+
+She could not resist him; to have him on her knee, his tousled head on
+her breast, was an inexpressible comfort,
+
+"When I go travelling with Dr. Lavendar," David announced drowsily, "I
+am going to put my trousers into the tops of my boots, like George
+does. Does God drink out of that Dipper?"
+
+Her doubtful murmur seemed to satisfy him; he shut his eyes, nuzzling
+his head into her breast, and as she leaned her cheek on his hair--
+which he permitted because he was too sleepy to protest--the ache of
+sobs lessened in her throat. After a while, when he was sound asleep
+again, she carried him up-stairs and laid him in his bed, sitting
+beside him for a while lest he should awake. Then she went down to the
+porch and faced the situation....
+
+Sometimes she got up and walked about; sometimes sat down, her elbows
+on her knees, her forehead in her hands, one foot tapping, tapping,
+tapping. Her first idea was flight: she must not wait for Lloyd; she
+must take David and go at once. By to-morrow, everybody would know.
+She would write Lloyd that she would await him in Philadelphia. "I
+will go to a hotel" she told herself. Of course, it was possible that
+Sam would keep his knowledge to himself, as his grandfather had done,
+but it was not probable. And even if he did, his knowledge made the
+place absolutely unendurable to her; she could not bear it for a day--
+for an hour! Yes; she must get off by tomorrow night; and--
+
+Suddenly, into the midst of this horrible personal alarm, came, like
+an echo, Sam's last words. The memory of them was so clear that it was
+almost as if he uttered them aloud at her side: "Well; I have had
+enough of it." Enough of what? Of loving her? Ah, yes; he was cured
+now of all that. But was that what he meant? "So this is life.... I
+have had enough of it."
+
+Helena Richie leaped to her feet. It seemed to her as if all her blood
+was flowing slowly back to her heart. There was no pain now in those
+nail-marks; there was no pain in her crushed humiliation. _"I have
+had enough of it."..._
+
+Good God! She caught her skirts up in her hand and flew down the steps
+and out into the garden. At the gate, under the lacey roof of locust
+leaves, she stood motionless, straining her ears. All was still. How
+long ago was it that he had rushed away? More than an hour. Oh, no,
+no; he could not have meant--! But all the same, she must find him:
+"_I have had enough of it_." Under her breath she called his name.
+Silence. She told herself distractedly that she was a fool, but
+a moment later she fled down the hill. She must find Dr. King; he
+would know what to do.
+
+She was panting when she reached his gate, and after she had rung and
+was beating upon the door with the palm of her hand, she had to cling
+to the knob for support.
+
+"Oh come; oh, hurry! Hurry!" she said, listening to Mrs. King's
+deliberate step on the oilcloth of the hall.
+
+"Where is Dr. King?" she gasped, as the door opened; "I want Dr.
+King!"
+
+Martha, in her astonishment at this white-faced creature with skirts
+draggled by the dew and dust of the grass-fringed road, started back,
+the flame of the lamp she carried flickering and jumping in the
+draught. "What is the matter? Is David--"
+
+"Oh, where is Dr. King? Please--please! I want Dr. King--"
+
+William by this time was in the hall, and when he saw her face he,
+too, said:
+
+"David?"
+
+"No. It's--May I speak to you a moment? In the office? I am alarmed
+about--something."
+
+She brushed past Mrs. King, who was still gaping at the suddenness of
+this apparition from the night, and followed the doctor into the
+little room on the left of the passage. Martha, deeply affronted, saw
+the door shut in her face.
+
+As for Mrs. Richie, she stood panting in the darkness of the office:
+
+"I am very much frightened. Sam Wright has just left me, and--"
+
+William King, scratching a match under the table and fumbling with the
+lamp chimney, laughed. "Is that all? I thought somebody had hung
+himself."
+
+"Oh, Dr. King," she cried, "I'm afraid, I'm afraid!"
+
+He put out his friendly hand and led her to a chair. "Now, Mrs.
+Richie," he said in his comforting voice, "sit down here, and get your
+breath. There's nothing the matter with that scalawag, I assure you.
+Has he been making himself a nuisance? I'll kick him!"
+
+At these commonplace words, the tension broke in a rush of hysterical
+tears, which, while it relieved her, maddened her because for a moment
+she was unable to speak. But she managed to say, brokenly, that the
+boy had said something which frightened her, for fear that he might--
+
+"Kill himself?" said the doctor, cheerfully, "No indeed! The people
+who threaten to kill themselves, never do. Come, now, forget all about
+him." And William, smiling, drew one of her hands down from her eyes.
+"Gracious! what a wrist! Did David scratch you?"
+
+She pulled her hand away, and hid it in the folds of her skirt. "Oh, I
+do hope you are right; but Dr. King, he said something--and I was so
+frightened. Oh, if I could just know he had got home, all safe!"
+
+"Well, it's easy to know that," said William. "Come, let us walk down
+to Mr. Wright's; I bet a hat we'll find the young gentleman eating a
+late supper with an excellent appetite. Love doesn't kill, Mrs.,
+Richie--at Sam's age."
+
+She was silent.
+
+William took his lantern out of a closet, and made a somewhat
+elaborate matter of lighting it, wiping off the oozing oil from the
+tank, and then shutting the frame with a cheerful snap. It would give
+her time to get hold of herself, he thought.
+
+"I must apologize to Mrs. King," Helena said. "I was so frightened,
+that I'm afraid I was abrupt."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," said Martha's husband, easily, and opened the
+outer door of the office. "Come."
+
+She followed him down the garden path to the street: there in the
+darkness, broken by the gay zigzag of the lantern across the
+flagstones of the sidewalk, William found it easier to speak out:
+
+"I hope you don't mind my referring to Sam's being in love, Mrs.
+Richie? Of course, we have all known that he had lost his heart. Boys
+will, you know. And, honestly, I think if ever a boy had excuse for--
+that sort of thing, Sam had. But it has distressed me to have you
+bothered. And to-night is the climax. For him to talk like a--a jack-
+donkey, because you very properly snubbed him--you mustn't mind my
+speaking plainly; I have understood the whole thing from the
+beginning--makes me mad. You're really worn out. Confound that boy!
+You are too good, Mrs. Richie, that's the trouble. You let yourself be
+imposed upon."
+
+Her broken "no--no" seemed to him a lovely humility, and he laughed
+and shook his head.
+
+"Yes, yes! When I see how gentle women are with us clods of men, I
+really, I--you know--" William had never since his courting days got
+into such a bog of sentiment, and he stammered his way out of it by
+saying that Sam was a perfect nuisance.
+
+When they reached the gateway of the senior warden's place, Mrs.
+Richie said that she would wait. "I'll stand here in the road; and if
+you will make some excuse, and find out--"
+
+"Very well," he said. "I'll come back as quickly as I can, and tell
+you he's all right. There isn't a particle of reason for anxiety, but
+it's a better sedative for you than bromide. That's the why I'm doing
+it," said William candidly. He gave her the lantern, and said he did
+not like to leave her. "You won't be frightened? You can see the house
+from here, and can call if you want me. I'll have to stay about ten
+minutes, or they wouldn't understand my coming in."
+
+She nodded, impatient at his delay, and he slipped into the shadow of
+the maples and disappeared. For a minute she could hear the crunch of
+his footsteps on the gravel of the driveway. She sat down on the grass
+by the roadside, and leaned her head against the big white gate-post.
+The lantern burned steadily beside her, casting on the ground a shower
+of yellow spots that blurred into a widening circle of light. Except
+for the crickets all was still. The cooler air of night brought out
+the heavy scents of damp earth and leaves, and over in the deep grass
+a late May-apple spilled from its ivory cup the heavy odor of death. A
+bob-white fluted in the darkness on the other side of the road.
+
+Her acute apprehension had ceased. William King was so certain, that,
+had the reality been less dreadful she would have been ashamed of the
+fuss she had made. She wanted only this final assurance that the boy
+was at home, safe and sound; then she would think of her own affairs.
+She watched the moths fly about the lantern, and when one poor downy
+pair of wings touched the hot, domed top and fell fluttering into the
+road, she bent forward and looked at it, wondering what she could do
+for it. To kill it would be the kindest thing,--to put it out of its
+pain. But some obscure connection of ideas made her shudder back from
+death, even a moth's death; she lifted the little creature gently, and
+laid it in the dewy grass.
+
+Down the Wrights' carriage road she heard a footstep on the gravel; a
+step that grew louder and louder, the confident, comforting step of
+the kind friend on whom she relied as she had never relied on any
+human being.
+
+"What did I tell you?" William called to her, as he loomed out of the
+darkness into the circle of light from the lantern.
+
+"He is all right?" she said trembling; "you saw him?"
+
+"I didn't see him, but--"
+
+"Oh," she said blankly.
+
+"I saw those who had, ten minutes before; won't that do?" he teased
+her. "I found the Wright family just going to bed--where you ought to
+be this minute. I said I had just stopped in to say how-do-you-do.
+Samuel at once reproved me, because I hadn't been to evening church."
+
+"And he--Sam? Was he--"
+
+"He was in the house, up-stairs, his mother said. I asked about him
+sort of casually, and she said he had just come in and gone up to his
+room. His father made some uncomplimentary remarks about him. Samuel
+oughtn't to be so hard on him," William said thoughtfully; "he said he
+had told Sam that he supposed he might look forward to supporting him
+for the rest of his life--'as if he were a criminal or an idiot.'
+Imagine a father saying a thing like that!" William lifted his lantern
+and turned the wick up. "Now, I'm only hard on him when he is a goose;
+but his father--_What was that?_"
+
+William King stood bolt upright, motionless, his lips parted. Mrs.
+Richie caught at his arm, and the lantern swinging sharply, scattered
+a flying shower of light; they were both rigid, straining their ears,
+not breathing. There was no sound except the vague movement of the
+leaves overhead, and faintly, from across the meadow--"_Bob-white!
+bob-white!_"
+
+"I thought--I heard--" the doctor said in a whisper. Helena, clutching
+at his arm, reeled heavily against him.
+
+"Yes. It was. That was what it was."
+
+"No! Impossible!" he stammered. And they stood listening breathlessly;
+then, just as the strain began to relax, down through the darkness
+from the house behind the trees came a cry:
+
+"Dr. King--"
+
+An instant later the sound of flying steps on the gravel, and a girl's
+shrill voice: "Dr. King!"
+
+"Here, Lydia!" William said, running towards the little figure;
+"what's the matter!"
+
+Helena, in the shadow of the gate-post, only caught a word:
+
+"Sam--"
+
+And the doctor and the child were swallowed up in the night.
+
+When William King came out of that house of confusion and death, he
+found her huddled against the gate-post, haggard, drenched with dew,
+waiting for him. He started, with a distressed word, and lifted her in
+his arms. "Oh, you ought not to be here; I thought you had gone home
+long ago!"
+
+"_Dead?_"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"He--shot--
+
+"Yes. Poor boy; poor, foolish, crazy boy! But it wasn't your fault.
+Oh, my poor child!"
+
+She shivered away from him, then without a word turned towards Old
+Chester. The doctor walked at her side. It was nearly three, and very
+dark. No one saw them as they went through the sleeping streets; at
+William's house she stopped, with a silent gesture of dismissal.
+
+"I am going to take you home," he said gently. And a few minutes later
+he began to tell her about it. "He was dead when I got there. They
+think it was an accident; and it is best they should. I am afraid I'll
+have to explain to my wife, because she saw your apprehension. But
+nobody else need know. Except--I must tell Dr. Lavendar, of course;
+but not until after the funeral. There is no use complicating things.
+But other people can just think it was an accident. It was, in one
+way. He was insane. Everybody is, who does--that. Poor Samuel! Poor
+Mrs. Wright! I could not leave them; but I thought you had gone home,
+or I would have come. Mrs. Richie, promise me one thing: promise me
+not to feel it was your fault."
+
+She dropped her face in her hands. "Not my fault! ... I killed him."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+"He was cleaning his father's pistol, and it went off--" the poor,
+dazed mother said, over and over. The father said nothing. He sat, his
+elbow on his knee, his forehead resting in the palm of his hand.
+Sometimes his heavy eyes glanced up, but he did not lift his head. He
+had hardly spoken since the accident. Then, he had said to William
+King:
+
+"I suppose he undertook to clean my revolver. He always did things at
+queer times. I suppose it went off. It had a tricky hammer. It went
+off. By accident--not... He hadn't any reason to... He said, only
+yesterday, when he got back, that he couldn't stay away from home any
+longer. He said he _had_ to come home. So, you see, there isn't any
+reason to think... He was cleaning it. And it went off. The hammer
+was tricky."
+
+The slow, bewildered words were spoken with his eyes fixed blindly on
+the floor. At the sight of his dreadful composure, his wife's loud
+weeping died into a frightened whimper. He did not repeat the
+explanation. Dr. Lavendar heard it from Mrs. Wright, as she knelt
+beside the poor, stony father, patting his hand and mothering him.
+
+"It was an accident, Dr. Lavendar. Sammy took a notion to clean his
+father's pistol. And it went off. And oh, he had just come back to us
+again. And he was so glad to get home. He went to church yesterday
+morning. I didn't have to urge him. He wanted to go. I feel sure he
+had begun to think of his Saviour. Yes; and he wanted to go back to
+the bank, and write up his ledgers; he was so happy to be among us
+again. Oh, Dr, Lavendar, he said to me, 'I just had to come home,
+mother, to you and father,' And I kissed him, and I said, 'Yes, my
+darling; home is the best place,' And he kissed me, Dr, Lavendar.
+Sammy was not one to do that--a big boy, you know. Oh, I am so glad he
+_wanted_ to come home. And now the Lord has taken him. Oh, Samuel,
+try, try to say: 'Blessed be the name of the Lord!'"
+
+The senior warden stared in silence at her plump hand, shaking and
+trembling on his knee. Dr. Lavendar did not urge any word of
+resignation. He sat beside the stricken pair, hearing the mother's
+pitiful babble, looking at the father's bent gray head, saying what he
+could of Sam--his truthfulness, his good nature, his kindness. "I
+remember once he spent a whole afternoon making a splint for Danny's
+leg. And it was a good splint," said Dr. Lavendar. Alas! how little he
+could find to say of the young creature who was a stranger to them
+all!
+
+Dr. Lavendar stayed with them until noon. He had been summoned just as
+he was sitting down to breakfast, and he had gone instantly, leaving
+Mary wringing her hands at the double distress of a dreadful calamity
+and Dr. Lavendar's going without his breakfast. When he saw William
+King he asked no questions, except:
+
+"Who will tell his grandfather?"
+
+But of course there was only one person to tell Mr. Benjamin Wright,
+and Dr. Lavendar knew it. "But you must come with me, William;
+Benjamin is very frail."
+
+"Yes;" said William King; "only you've got to have something to eat
+first."
+
+And that gave Dr. Lavendar the chance to ask Mrs. Wright for some
+breakfast, which made her stop crying, poor soul, for a little while.
+
+As Goliath pulled them slowly up the hill, William told part of his
+part of the story. He had dropped in to the Wrights' the night before
+to say how-do-you-do. "It was nearly ten. I only stayed a few minutes;
+then I went off. I had got as far as the gate, and I was--was fixing
+my lantern, and I thought I heard a shot. And I said--'_What's that?_'
+And I stood there, sort of holding my breath, you know; I couldn't
+believe it was a shot. And then they called. When I got to the house,
+it was all over. It was instantaneous. Samuel told me that Sam had
+been fooling with his revolver, and--"
+
+"Yes;" said Dr. Lavendar; "that's what Eliza told me."
+
+Both men were silent. Then Dr. Lavendar said "Will it kill Benjamin?"
+
+"I don't know. I don't know;" the doctor said, sighing. "Oh, Dr.
+Lavendar, why does the Lord hit the innocent over the guilty's
+shoulder? The boy is out of it; but his father and mother and
+grandfather, and--and others, they have got to bear it."
+
+"Why, Willy, my boy," said Dr. Lavendar, "that's where the comfort of
+it is. It means we're all one--don't you see? If we suffer in the
+boy's suffering or wrong-doing, it is because we and he are one in
+Christ Jesus."
+
+"Yes, sir," said William respectfully. But he did not understand.
+
+When they reached The Top, it seemed to take them a long time to hitch
+Goliath. It was Dr. Lavendar who got himself together first and said
+calmly, "Come, William."
+
+The front door was open, and the two bearers of heavy news entered
+unannounced. Benjamin Wright was in the dining-room, where the
+shutters were bowed to keep out the heat. He had taken off his hat,
+and was pottering about among his canaries, scolding Simmons and
+swearing at the weather. Dr. Lavendar and William, coming from the
+white glare of sunshine, could hardly distinguish him as he shuffled
+back and forth among the shadows, except when he crossed the strip of
+dazzling green light between the bowed shutters, Dr. Lavendar stopped
+on the threshold; William stood a little behind him.
+
+Mr. Wright was declaiming sonorously:
+
+  "--Did you ever see the Devil,
+  With his wooden leg and shovel,
+  A-scratching up the gravel--"
+
+He paused to stick a cuttlefish between the bars of a cage, and
+catching sight of the first figure, instantly began to snarl a
+reproach:
+
+"I might have been in my grave for all you know, Edward Lavendar;
+except you'd have had to 'give hearty thanks for the good example' of
+the deceased. What a humbug the burial service is--hey? Same thing for
+an innocent like me, or for a senior warden. Come in. Simmons!
+Whiskey"--
+
+He stopped short; William had moved in the shadows. "Why, that's Willy
+King," he said; and dropped the cuttlefish. "Something's wrong. Two
+black coats at this hour of the day mean something. Well! Out with it!
+What's happened?"
+
+"Benjamin," said Dr, Lavendar, coming into the room, "Sam's Sam--"
+
+"Keep Willy King out!" commanded the very old man in a high, peevish
+voice. "I'm not going to die of it. He's--killed himself? Well; it's
+my fault. I angered him," He took up his hat, clutching the brim with
+shaking hands and pulling it fiercely down over his eyes. "Keep Willy
+off! I'm not--I'm not--"
+
+Simmons caught him as he lurched back into a chair, and Dr. Lavendar
+bent over him, his old face moving with tears.
+
+"It was an accident, Benjamin, either of the body or the soul--it
+doesn't matter which."
+
+William King, standing behind the chair that held the forlorn and
+quivering heap, ventured gently: "Samuel says that Sam was cleaning
+his pistol, and--"
+
+But Dr. Lavendar held up his hand and William was silent.
+
+"Hold your tongue;" said Benjamin Wright. "Lavendar knows I don't like
+lies. Yes; my fault. I've done it again. Second time. Second time.
+Simmons! Get these--gentlemen some--whiskey."
+
+Simmons, his yellow jaws mumbling with terror, looked at Dr. Lavendar,
+who nodded. But even as the old man got himself together, the brain
+flagged; William saw the twist come across the mouth, and the eyes
+blink and fix.
+
+It was not a very severe shock, and after the first moments of alarm,
+the doctor said quietly; "He is not dying."
+
+But he was, of course, perfectly helpless and silenced; his miserable
+eyes seemed to watch them, fixedly, as they carried him to his bed,
+and did what little could be done; but he could make no demand, and
+offer no explanation.
+
+It was not until late in the afternoon that William King had time to
+go to the Stuffed Animal House. He had had a gravely absorbing day;
+not only because of the Wrights' pitiful demands upon his time, but
+because of the necessary explanations and evasions to Old Chester. To
+his wife evasions were impossible, he gave her an exact statement of
+the facts as he knew them. Martha, listening, and wiping her eyes, was
+shocked into fairness and sympathy.
+
+"But, William, she was not to blame!"
+
+"That's what I told her."
+
+"Poor thing!" said Martha; "why, I feel as if I ought to go right up
+and comfort her."
+
+"No, no; it isn't necessary," William said. "I'll go, on my way to The
+Top."
+
+Mrs. King drew back, coldly, and sympathy wavered into common sense.
+"Well, perhaps it's just as well you should. I'm afraid I couldn't
+make her feel that she had no responsibility at all,--as you seem to
+think. That's one thing about me, I may not be perfect, but I am
+sincere; I think she ought to have stopped Sam's love-making months
+ago!--Unless perhaps she returned it?" Martha ended, in a tone that
+made William redden with silent anger. But he forgot his anger and
+everything else when he came into the long parlor at the Stuffed
+Animal House, late that afternoon.
+
+"I've thought of you all day," he said, taking Helena's hand and
+looking pitifully into her face. It was strangely changed. Something
+was stamped into it that had never been there before.... Weeks ago, a
+hurricane of anger had uprooted content and vanity and left confusion
+behind it. But there was no confusion now; it had cleared into terror.
+
+William found her walking restlessly up and down; she gave him a look,
+and then stood quite still, shrinking a little to one side, as if she
+expected a blow. Something in that frightened, sidewise attitude made
+him hesitate to tell her of Benjamin Wright; she hardly knew the old
+gentleman, but it would startle her, the doctor reasoned. And yet,
+when very carefully, almost casually, he said that Mr. Wright had had
+a slight shock--"his life is not in danger just now," said William,
+"but he can't speak;"--she lifted her head and looked at him, drawing
+a full breath, as if eased of some burdening thought.
+
+"Will he ever speak?" she said.
+
+"I don't know; I think so. But probably it is the beginning of the
+end; poor old man!"
+
+"Poor old man," she repeated mechanically; "poor old man!"
+
+"I haven't told Dr. Lavendar about--last night," William said; "but if
+you have no objection I would like to just hint at--at a reason. He
+would know how entirely blameless you were."
+
+"Oh, no! please, please, don't!" she said. And William King winced at
+his own clumsiness; her reticence made him feel as if he had been
+guilty of an impropriety, almost of an indelicacy.
+
+After a pause he said gently, that he hoped she would sit with Mrs.
+King and himself at the funeral on Wednesday.
+
+Helena caught her hands together convulsively; "_I_ go? Oh, no, no! I
+am not going."
+
+The doctor was greatly distressed. "I know it is hard for you, but I'm
+afraid Samuel and his wife will be so hurt if you don't come. They
+know the boy was fond of you--you were always so good to him. I don't
+like to urge you, because I know it pains you but--"
+
+"Oh, I can't--I can't!"
+
+She turned so white that William had not the heart to say anything
+more. But that same kind heart ached so for the father and mother,
+that he was grateful to her when he saw her on Wednesday, among the
+people gathering at the church. "Just like her unselfishness!" he said
+to himself.
+
+All Old Chester, saddened and awed, came to show its sympathy for the
+stricken parents, and its pity, if nothing more, for the dead boy. But
+Helena, ghastly pale, had no room in her mind for either pity or
+sympathy. She heard Mr. Dilworth's subdued voice directing her to a
+pew, and a few minutes afterwards found herself sitting between Dr.
+and Mrs. King. Martha greeted her with an appropriate sigh; but Mrs.,
+Richie did not notice her. There was no sound in the waiting church
+except once in a while a long-drawn breath, or the faint rustle of
+turning leaves as some one looked for the burial service. The windows
+with their little border of stained glass, were tilted half-way open
+this hot morning, and sometimes the silence was stirred by the brush
+of sparrows in the ivy under the sills. On the worn carpet in the
+chancel the sunshine lay in patches of red and blue and purple, that
+flickered noiselessly when the wind moved the maple leaves outside; it
+was all so quiet that Helena could hear her own half-sobbing breaths.
+After a while, the first low note of the organ crept into the
+stillness, and as it deepened into a throbbing chord, there was the
+grave rustle of a rising congregation. Then from the church door came
+the sudden shock of words:
+
+"_I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord._"
+
+Helena, clutching at the back of the next pew, stood up with the rest.
+Suddenly she swayed, as though the earth was moving under her feet....
+The step of the bearers came heavily up the aisle. Her eyes fled from
+what they carried--("oh, was he so tall?")--and then shuddered back
+again to stare.
+
+Martha King touched her arm; "We sit down now."
+
+Helena sat down. Far outside her consciousness words were being said:
+"Now is Christ risen--" but she did not hear them; she did not see the
+people about her. She only saw, before the chancel, that long black
+shape. After a while the doctor's wife touched her again; "Here we
+stand up." Mechanically, she rose; her lips were moving in a terrified
+whisper, and Martha King, glancing at her sidewise, looked
+respectfully away. "Praying," the good woman thought; and softened a
+little.
+
+But Helena was far from prayer. As she stared at that black thing
+before the chancel, her selfishness uncovered itself before her eyes
+and showed its nakedness.
+
+The solid ground of experience was heaving and staggering under her
+feet, and in the midst of the elemental tumult, she had her first dim
+glimpse of responsibility. It was a blasting glimpse, that sent her
+cowering back to assertions of her right to her own happiness.
+Thirteen years ago Lloyd had made those assertions, and she had
+accepted them and built them into a shelter against the assailing
+consciousness that she was an outlaw, pillaging respect and honor from
+her community. Until now nothing had ever shaken that shelter. Nor had
+its dark walls been pierced by the disturbing light of any heavenly
+vision declaring that when personal happiness conflicts with any great
+human ideal, the right to claim such happiness is as nothing compared
+to the privilege of resigning it. She had not liked the secrecy which
+her shelter involved, no refined temperament likes secrecy. But the
+breaking of the law, in itself, had given her no particular concern;
+behind her excusing platitudes she had always been comfortable enough.
+Even that whirlwind of anger at Benjamin Wright's contempt had only
+roused her to buttress her shelter with declarations that she was not
+harming anybody. But sitting there between William King and his wife,
+in the midst of decorously mournful Old Chester, she knew she could
+never say that any more; not only because a foolish and ill-balanced
+youth had been unable to survive a shattered ideal, but because she
+began suddenly and with consternation to understand that the whole
+vast fabric of society rested on that same ideal. And she had been
+secretly undermining it! Her breath caught, strangling, in her throat.
+In the crack of the pistol and the crash of ruined family life she
+heard for the first time the dreadful sound of the argument of her
+life to other lives; and at that sound the very foundation of those
+excuses of her right to happiness, rocked and crumbled and left her
+selfishness naked before her eyes.
+
+It was so unbearable, that instantly she sought another shelter:
+obedience to the letter of the Law--Marriage. To marry her fellow
+outlaw seemed to promise both shelter and stability--for in her
+confusion she mistook marriage for morality. At once! Never mind if he
+were tired of her; never mind if she must humble what she called her
+pride, and plead with him to keep his word; never mind anything--
+except this dreadful revelation: that no one of us may do that which,
+if done by all, would destroy society. Yes; because she had not
+understood that, a boy had taken his own life.... Marriage! That was
+all she thought of; then, suddenly, she cowered--the feet of the
+bearers again.
+
+"I will be married," she said with dry lips, "oh, I will-I _will_!"
+And Martha King, looking at her furtively, thought she prayed.
+
+It was not a prayer, it was only a promise. For with the organic
+upheaval into her soul of the primal fact of social responsibility,
+had come the knowledge of guilt.
+
+_But the Lord was not in the earthquake._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+Benjamin Wright lay in his great bed, that had four mahogany posts
+like four dark obelisks. ... He had not spoken distinctly since the
+night of his seizure, though in about a fortnight he began to babble
+something which nobody could understand. Simmons said he wanted his
+birds, and brought two cages and hung them in the window, where the
+roving, unhappy eyes could rest upon them. He mumbled fiercely when he
+saw them, and Simmons cried out delightedly: "There now, he's better--
+he's swearin' at me!" The first intelligible words he spoke were those
+that had last passed his lips: "M-m-my f-f--," and from his melancholy
+eyes a meagre tear slid into a wrinkle and was lost.
+
+Dr. Lavendar, sitting beside him, put his old hand over the other old
+hand, that lay with puffed fingers motionless on the coverlet. "Yes,
+Benjamin, it was your fault, and mine, and Samuel's. We were all
+responsible because we did not do our best for the boy. But remember,
+his Heavenly Father will do His best."
+
+"M-m-my f--" the stammering tongue began again, but the misery
+lessened in the drawn face. Any denial of the fact he tried to state
+would have maddened him. But Dr. Lavendar never denied facts; apart
+from the question of right and wrong, he used to say it was not worth
+while. He accepted old Mr. Wright's responsibility as, meekly, he had
+accepted his own, but he saw in it an open door.
+
+And that was why he went that evening to the Wright house. It was a
+melancholy house. When their father was at home, the little girls
+whispered to each other and slipped away to their rooms, and when they
+were alone with their mother, they quivered at the sight of her tears
+that seemed to flow and flow and flow. Her talk was all of Sam's
+goodness and affection and cleverness. "He read such learned books!
+Why, that very last afternoon, when we were all taking naps, he was
+reading a big leather-covered book from your father's library, all
+about the Nations. And he could make beautiful poetry," she would tell
+them, reading over and over with tear-blinded eyes some scraps of
+verse she had found among the boy's possessions. But most of all she
+talked of Sam's gladness in getting home, and how strange it was he
+had taken that notion to clean that dreadful pistol. No wonder Lydia
+and her sisters kept to themselves, and wandered, little scared,
+flitting creatures, through the silent house, or out into the garden,
+yellowing now and gorgeous in the September heats and chills.
+
+Dr. Lavendar came in at tea-time, as he had lately made a point of
+doing, and sat down beside Mrs. Wright in Sam's chair.
+
+"Samuel," said he, when supper was over and the little girls had
+slipped away; "you must comfort your father. Nobody else can."
+
+The senior warden drew in his breath with a start.
+
+"He blames himself, Samuel."
+
+"Blames himself! What reason has _he_ got to blame himself? It was my
+fault."
+
+"Oh, my dear," said the poor mother, "you couldn't tell that he was
+going to clean your pistol."
+
+Samuel Wright looked heavily over at Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"Well," said the old minister, "he gave Sam the money to go away. I
+suppose that's on his mind, for one thing. He may think something went
+wrong, you know."
+
+"Oh," broke in the mother, beginning to cry, "he Was so glad to get
+home; he said to me the night he got back, 'Mother, I just had to come
+home to you and father; I couldn't stay away any longer.' I'm sure he
+couldn't have said anything more loving, could he? And he kissed me.
+You know he wasn't one to kiss much. Yes; he couldn't bear to be away
+from us. He said so."
+
+"Go and see him, Samuel," urged Dr. Lavendar. "You, too, have lost a
+son, so you know now how he has felt for thirty-two years. His was a
+loss for which he knows he was to blame. It is a cruel knowledge,
+Sam?"
+
+"It is," said the senior warden. "It is."
+
+"Then go and comfort him."
+
+Samuel went. A great experience had wiped the slate so clean of all
+the years of multiplications and additions of resentment and
+mortification, that the thought of facing his father did not stir his
+dull indifference to the whole dreary matter. When Simmons saw him
+coming up the garden path, he said under his breath, "Bless the Lawd!"
+Then, mindful of hospitality, offered whiskey.
+
+"Certainly not," said Samuel Wright; and the old habit of being
+displeased made his voice as pompous as if he cared--one way or the
+other. "Can you make him understand that I'm here, Simmons? Of course,
+I won't go up-stairs unless he wants to see me."
+
+"He'll want to see you, suh, he'll want to see you," said Simmons.
+He's right smart to-day. He kin use his left hand. He dun shuck that
+fist at me this mawnin'. Oh, laws, yes, he'll want to see you."
+
+"Go and ask him."
+
+Simmons went, and came back triumphantly. "I tole him. He didn't say
+nothin'. So it's all right"
+
+The visitor went ponderously up-stairs. On the first landing he caught
+his breath, and stood still.
+
+Directly opposite him, across the window of the upper hall was a
+horsehair-covered sofa, with great, shiny, slippery mahogany ends.
+Samuel Wright put his hand up to his throat as if he were
+smothering.... He used to lie on that sofa on hot afternoons and study
+his declensions. It had no springs; he felt the hardness of it in his
+bones, now, and the scratch of the horsehair on his cheek. Instantly
+words, forgotten for a generation, leaped up:
+
+Stella Stellae Stellae Stellam--
+
+Mechanically his eyes turned to the side wall; an old secretary stood
+there, its glass doors curtained within by faded red rep. He had kept
+his fishing-tackle in its old cupboard; the book of flies was in a
+green box on the second shelf, at the left. Samuel looked at those
+curtained doors, and at the shabby case of drawers below them where
+the veneer had peeled and blistered under the hot sun of long
+afternoons, and the sudden surge of youth into his dry, middle-aged
+mind, was suffocating. Something not himself impelled him on up the
+half-flight from the landing, each step creaking under his heavy
+tread; drew him across the hall, laid his hand on the door of the
+secretary.... Yes; there they were: the green pasteboard box, the
+flannel book to hold the flies. He put out his hand stealthily and
+lifted the book;--rust and moth-eaten rags.
+
+The shock of that crumbling touch and the smell of dust made him gasp-
+and instantly he was back again in middle age. He shut the secretary
+quietly, and looked around him. On the right side of the hall was a
+closed door. _His_ door. The door out of which he had rushed that
+windy March night thirty-two years ago. How hot with passion he had
+been then! How cold he was now. On the other side of the hall a door
+was ajar; behind it was his father. He looked at it with sombre
+indifferent eyes; then pushed it open and entered. He saw a little
+figure, sunk in the heap of pillows on the big bed; a little shrunken
+figure, without a wig, frightened-eyed, and mumbling. Samuel Wright
+came forward with the confidence of apathy. As he stood at the foot of
+the bed, dully looking down, the thick tongue broke into a whimpering
+stammer:
+
+"M-m-my f--"
+
+And at that, something seemed to melt in the poor locked heart of the
+son.
+
+_"Father!"_ said Samuel Wright passionately. He stooped and took
+the helpless fingers, and held them hard in his own trembling hand.
+For a moment he could not speak. Then he said some vague thing about
+getting stronger. He did not know what he said; he was sorry, as one
+is sorry for a suffering child. The figure in the bed looked at him
+with scared eyes. One of the pillows slipped a little, and Samuel
+pulled it up, clumsily to be sure, but with the decided touch of pity
+and purpose, the touch of the superior. That fixing the pillow behind
+the shaking helpless head, swept away the last traces of the quarrel.
+He sat down by the gloomy catafalque of a bed, and when Benjamin
+Wright began to say again, "M-m-my f--" he stopped him with a gesture.
+
+"No, father; not at all. He would have gone away anyhow, whether you
+had given him the money or not. No; it was my fault," the poor man
+said, dropping back into his own misery. "I was hard on him. Even that
+last night, I spoke harshly to him. Sometimes I think that possibly I
+didn't entirely understand him."
+
+He dropped his head in his hand, and stared blankly at the floor. He
+did not see the dim flash of humor in the old eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+The day that Sam Wright was buried Helena had written to Lloyd Pryor.
+She must see him at once, she said. He must let her know when he would
+come to Old Chester--or she would come to him, if he preferred. "It is
+most important," she ended, "_most_ important." She did not say
+why; she could not write of this dreadful thing that had happened.
+Still less could she put down on paper that sense of guilt, so
+alarming in its newness and so bewildering in its complexity. She was
+afraid of it, she was even ashamed of it; she and Lloyd had never
+talked about--things like that. So she made no explanation. She only
+summoned him with a peremptoriness which had been absent from their
+relations for many years. His answer, expected and despaired of, came
+three weeks later.
+
+It was early in October one rainy Friday afternoon. Helena and David
+were in the dining-room. She had helped him with his lessons,--for it
+was Dr. Lavendar's rule that Monday's lessons were to be learned on
+Friday; and now they had come in here because the old mahogany table
+was so large that David could have a fine clutter of gilt-edged
+saucers from his paint-box spread all around. He had a dauby tumbler
+of water beside him, and two or three _Godey's Lady's Books_
+awaiting his eager brush. He was very busy putting gamboge on the
+curls of a lady whose petticoats, by a discreet mixture of gamboge and
+Prussian blue, were a most beautiful green.
+
+"Don't you think crimson-lake is pretty red for her lips?" Helena
+asked, resting her cheek on his thatch of yellow hair.
+
+"No, ma'am," David said briefly; and rubbed on another brushful.
+Helena put an eager arm about him and touched his ear with her lips;
+David sighed, and moved his head. "No; I wasn't going to," she
+reassured him humbly; it was a long time since she had dared to offer
+the "forty kisses." It was then that Sarah laid the mail down on the
+table; a newspaper and--Lloyd Pryor's letter.
+
+Helena's start and gasp of astonishment were a physical pang. For a
+long time afterwards she could not bear the smell of David's water-
+colors; gamboge, Chinese white and Prussian blue made her feel almost
+faint. She took up the letter and turned it over and over, her pallor
+changing into a violent rush of color; then she fled up-stairs to her
+own room, tearing the letter open as she ran.
+
+Her eyes blurred as she began to read it, and she had to stop to wipe
+away some film of agitation. But as she read, the lines cleared
+sharply before her. The beginning, after the "Dear Nelly," was
+commonplace enough. He was sorry not to have answered her letter
+sooner; he had been frightfully busy; Alice had not been well, and
+letter-writing, as she knew, was not his strong point. Besides, he had
+really expected to be in Old Chester before this, so that they could
+have talked things over. It was surprising how long Frederick had hung
+on, poor devil. In regard to the future, of course--here the page
+turned. Helena gasped, folding it back with trembling fingers: "Of
+course, conditions have changed very much since we first considered
+the matter. My daughter's age presents an embarrassment which did not
+exist a dozen years ago. Now, if we carried out our first arrangement,
+some kind friend would put two and two together, and drop a hint, and
+Alice would ask questions. Nevertheless"--again she turned a page--
+nevertheless, Lloyd Pryor was prepared to carry out his promise if she
+wished to hold him to it. She might think it over, he said, and drop
+him a line, and he was, as ever, hers, L. P.
+
+Helena folded the letter, laying the edges straight with slow
+exactness.... He would carry out his promise if she held him to it.
+She might drop him a line on the subject.... While her dazed mind
+repeated his words, she was alertly planning her packing: "Can Sarah
+fold my skirts properly?" she thought; but even as she asked herself
+the question, she was saying aloud, "Marry him? Never!" She slapped
+the letter across her knee. Ah, he knew that. He knew that her pride
+would come to his rescue! The tears stung in her eyes, but they did
+not fall.... Sarah must begin the next morning; but it would take a
+week to close everything up.... Well; if he had ceased to want her,
+she did not want him! What a letter she would write him; what
+indifference, what assurances that she did not wish to hold him to
+that "first arrangement"; what anger, what reproach! Yes; she would
+"drop him that line"! Then it came over her that perhaps it would be
+more cutting not to write to him at all. She raised her rag of pride
+but almost instantly it fell shuddering to the dust--_Sam Wright_....
+
+She sat up in her chair, trembling. Yes; she and David would start on
+Monday; she would meet Lloyd in Philadelphia on Tuesday, and be
+married that morning. Her trunks could follow her; she would not wait
+for the packing. George must do up the furniture in burlap; a railroad
+journey across the mountains would injure it very much, unless it was
+carefully packed.
+
+She rose hurriedly, and taking her travelling-bag out of the wardrobe,
+began to put various small necessities into it. Suddenly she stopped
+short in her work, then went over to the mantel-piece, and leaning her
+arms upon it looked into the mirror that hung lengthwise above it. The
+face that gazed back at her from its powdery depths was thinner; it
+was paler: it was--not so young. She looked at it steadily, with
+frightened eyes; there were lines on the forehead; the skin was not so
+firm and fresh. She spared herself no details of the change, and as
+she acknowledged them, one by one, the slow, painful red spread to her
+temples. Oh, it was horrible, it was disgusting, this aging of the
+flesh! The face in the mirror looked back at her helplessly; it was no
+weapon with which to fight Lloyd Pryor's weariness! Yet she must fight
+it, somehow. It was intolerable to think that he did not want her; it
+was more intolerable to think that she could not match his mood by
+declaring that she did not want him. "But that's only because of Sam
+Wright," she assured herself, staring miserably at the white face in
+the glass; "if it wasn't for that--! But I must get more sleep; I
+mustn't let myself look so worn out."
+
+In such cross-currents of feeling, one does not think consecutively.
+Desires and motives jumbled together until Helena said to herself
+desperately, that she would not try to answer Lloyd's letter for a day
+or two. After all, as he had so clearly indicated, there was no hurry;
+she would think it over a little longer.
+
+But as she thought, the next day and the next, the wound to her
+affection and her vanity grew more unbearable, and her feeling of
+responsibility waned. The sense of guilt had been awakened in her by
+her recognition of a broken Law; but as the sense of sin was as far
+from her consciousness as ever, she was able to argue that if no one
+knew she was guilty, no further harm could be done. So why kill what
+lingering love there might be in Lloyd's heart by insisting that he
+keep his promise? With that worn face of hers, how could she insist!
+And suppose she did not? Suppose she gave up that hungry desire to be
+like other people, arranged to leave Old Chester--on that point she
+had no uncertainty--but did not make any demand upon him? It was
+perfectly possible that he would be shamed into keeping his promise.
+She said to herself that, at any rate, she would wait a week until she
+had calmed down and could write with moderation and good humor.
+
+Little by little the purpose of diplomacy strengthened, and with it a
+determination to keep his love--what there was of it--at the price of
+that "first arrangement." For, after all, the harm was done; Sam
+Wright was dead. She was his murderer, she reminded herself, sullenly,
+but nothing like that could ever happen again, so why should she not
+take what poor happiness she could get?
+
+Of course this acceptance of the situation veered every day in gusts
+of misery and terror; but, on the whole, the desire for peace
+prevailed. Yet the week she had allowed herself in which to think it
+over, lengthened to ten days before she began to write her letter. She
+sat down at her desk late in the afternoon, but by tea-time she had
+done nothing more than tear up half a dozen beginnings. After supper
+David rattled the backgammon-board significantly.
+
+"You are pretty slow, aren't you?" he asked, as she loitered about her
+desk, instead of settling down to the usual business of the evening.
+
+"Don't you think, just to-night, you would rather read a story?" she
+pleaded.
+
+"No, ma'am," said David, cheerfully.
+
+So, sighing, she opened the board on her knees. David beat her to a
+degree that made him very condescending, and also extremely displeased
+by the interruption of a call from William King.
+
+"Nobody is sick," David said politely; "you needn't have come."
+
+"Somebody is sick further up the hill," William excused himself,
+smiling.
+
+"Is Mr. Wright worse?" Helena said quickly. She lifted the backgammon-
+board on to the table, and whispered a word of manners to David, who
+silently stubbed his copper-toed shoe into the carpet.
+
+"No," the doctor said, "he's better, if anything. He managed to ask
+Simmons for a poached egg, which made the old fellow cry with joy; and
+he swore at me quite distinctly because I did not get in to see him
+this morning. I really couldn't manage it, so I went up after tea, and
+he was as mad as--as David," said William, slyly. And David, much
+confused, kicked vigorously.
+
+"Do you think he will ever be able to talk?" she said.
+
+William would not commit himself. "Perhaps; and perhaps not. I didn't
+get anything clear out of him to-night, except--a bad word."
+
+"Damn?" David asked with interest.
+
+William chuckled and then remembered to look proper. But David feeling
+that he was being laughed at, hid his face on Helena's shoulder, which
+made her lift him on to her knee. There, in the drowsy warmth of the
+little autumn fire, and the quiet flow of grown people's meaningless
+talk, he began to get sleepy; gradually his head slipped from her
+shoulder to her breast, and when she gathered his dangling legs into
+her lap, he fell sound asleep.
+
+"It isn't his bedtime yet," she excused herself. She rested her cheek
+on the child's head and looked over at the doctor. She wore a dark
+crimson silk, the bosom filled with sheer white muslin that was caught
+together under her soft chin by a little pearl pin; her lace
+undersleeves were pushed back so that William could see the lovely
+lines of her white wrists. Her parted hair fell in soft, untidy waves
+down over her ears; she was staring absently across David's head into
+the fire.
+
+"I wish," William said, "that you would go and call on old Mr. Wright
+some time. Take David with you. It would cheer him up." It seemed to
+William King, thinking of the forlorn old man in his big four-poster,
+that such a vision of maternity and peace would be pleasant to look
+upon. "He wouldn't use David's bad word to you, I am sure."
+
+"Wouldn't he?" she said.
+
+For once the doctor's mind was nimble, and he said in quick
+expostulation: "Come, come; you mustn't be morbid. You are thinking
+about poor Sam and blaming yourself. Why, Mrs. Richie, you are no more
+responsible for his folly than I am."
+
+She shook her head. "That day at the funeral, I thought how they used
+to bring the murderer into the presence of the man he had killed."
+
+William King was really displeased. "Now, look here, you must stop
+this sort of thing! It's not only foolish, but it's dangerous. We can
+none of us play with our consciences without danger; they cut both
+ways."
+
+Mrs. Richie was silent. The doctor got up and planted himself on the
+hearth-rug, his back to the fire, and his hands under his coat tails.
+
+"Let's have it out: How could you help it because that poor boy fell
+in love? You couldn't help being yourself--could you? And Sam couldn't
+help being sentimental. Your gentleness and goodness were like
+something he had never seen before. But you had to stop the
+sentimentality, of course; that was just your duty. And I know how
+wisely you did it--and kindly. But the boy was always a self-absorbed
+dreamer; the mental balance was too delicate; it dipped the wrong way;
+his mind went. To feel it was your fault is absolute nonsense. Now
+there! I've never been so out of patience with you before," he ended
+smiling; "but you deserve it."
+
+"I don't deserve it," she said; "I wish I did."
+
+"When I spoke about goodness," the doctor amended, "I didn't mean to
+reflect on his father and mother. Mrs. Wright is one of the best women
+in the world. I only meant--" William sat down and looked into the
+fire. "Well; just plain goodness isn't necessarily--attractive. A
+man--at least a boy like Sam, admires goodness, of course; but he does
+sort of hanker after prettiness;" William's eyes dwelt on her bent
+head, on the sheer muslin under David's cheek, on the soft incapable
+hands that always made him think of white apple-blossoms, clasped
+around the child's yielding body;--"Yes; something pretty, and
+pleasant, and sweet; that's what a man--I mean a boy, Sam was only a
+boy; really wants. And his mother, good as she is, is not,--well; I
+don't know how to express it."
+
+Helena looked over at him with a faint smile. "I thought goodness was
+the finest thing in the world; I'm sure I used to be told so," she
+ended dully.
+
+"Of course, _you_ would feel that," the doctor protested; "and it
+is, of course it is! Only, I can understand how a boy might feel. Down
+at the Wrights' there was just nothing but plain goodness, oh, very
+plain, Mrs. Richie. It was all bread-and-butter. Necessary; I'm the
+last person to say that bread-and-butter isn't necessary. But you do
+want cake, once in a while; I mean when you are young. Sam couldn't
+help liking cake," he ended smiling.
+
+"Cakes and ale," Helena said.
+
+But the connection was not clear to William. "At home, there was just
+plain, ugly goodness; then he met you. And he saw goodness, and other
+things!"
+
+Helena's fingers opened and closed nervously. "I wish you wouldn't
+call me good," she said; "I'm not. Truly I'm not."
+
+William laughed, looking at her with delighted eyes. "Oh, no; you are
+a terrible sinner!"
+
+At which she said with sudden, half-sobbing violence, "Oh,
+_don't;_ I can't bear it. I am not good."
+
+The doctor sobered. This really was too near the abnormal to be safe;
+he must bring her out of it. He must make her realize, not only that
+she was not to blame about Sam Wright, but that the only shadow on her
+goodness was this same morbid feeling that she was not good. He got up
+again and stood with his back to the fire, looking down at her with
+good-natured determination.
+
+"Now look here!" he said, "conscience is a good thing; but conscience,
+unrestrained by common sense, does a fine work for the devil. That
+isn't original, Dr. Lavendar said it; but it's true. I wish Dr.
+Lavendar knew of this morbid idea of yours about responsibility--he'd
+shake it out of you! Won't you let me tell him?"
+
+"Oh, no! no! Please don't!"
+
+"Well, I won't; but he would tell you that it was wrong not to see
+straight in this matter; it's unfair to your--to Providence," William
+said. He did not use religious phrases easily, and he stumbled over
+"unfair to your Heavenly Father," which was what Dr. Lavendar had said
+in some such connection as this: "Recognize your privileges and be
+grateful for the help they have been in making you as good as you are.
+To deny what goodness you have is not humility, it's only being unfair
+to your Heavenly Father." But William could not say a thing like that;
+so he blundered on about Providence, while Helena sat, trembling, her
+cheek on David's hair.
+
+"You are as good as any mortal of us can be," William declared, "and
+better than ninety-nine mortals in a hundred. So there! Why Mrs.
+Richie"--he hesitated, and the color mounted slowly to his face; "your
+loveliness of character is an inspiration to a plain man like me."
+
+It was intolerable. With a breathless word, she rose, swaying a little
+under the burden of the sleeping child; then, moving swiftly across
+the room, she laid him on a sofa. David murmured something as she put
+him down, but she did not stop to hear it. She came back and stood in
+front of William King, gripping her hands together in a passion of
+denial.
+
+"Stop. I can't bear it. I can't sit there with David in my arms and
+hear you say I am good. It isn't true! I can't bear it--" She stopped
+short, and turned away from him, trembling very much.
+
+The doctor, alarmed at this outbreak of hysteria, and frowning with
+concern, put out his kind protesting hands to take hers. But she
+cringed away from him.
+
+"Don't," she said hoarsely; and then in a whisper: "He is not--my
+brother."
+
+William, his hand still outstretched, stared at her, his mouth falling
+slowly open.
+
+"I told you," she said, "that I wasn't--good."
+
+_"My God!"_ said William King. He stepped back sharply, then suddenly
+sat down, leaning his head on his clenched hand.
+
+Helena, turning slightly, saw him. "I always told you I wasn't," she
+cried out angrily; "why would you insist on saying I was?"
+
+He did not seem to notice her, though perhaps he shrank a little. That
+movement, even if she only imagined it, was like the touch of flame.
+She felt an intolerable dismay. It was more than anger, far more than
+terror; it seemed to envelop her whole body with a wave of scarlet. It
+was a new, unbearable, burning anguish. It was shame.
+
+She had an impulse to tear it from her, as if it were some tangible
+horror, some blazing film, that was covering her flesh. With a cry,
+she broke out:
+
+"You don't understand! I am not wicked. Do you hear me? I am not
+wicked. You must listen I"
+
+He made no answer.
+
+"I am not wicked--the way you think. My husband killed my baby. I told
+you that, long ago. And I could not live with him. I couldn't I Don't
+you see? Oh, listen, please! Please listen! And Lloyd loved me, and he
+said I would be happy. And I went away. And we thought Frederick would
+divorce me, so we could be married. But he didn't. Oh, he didn't _on
+purpose_! And we have been waiting for him to die. And he didn't
+die--he wouldn't die!" she said with a wail. "But now he is dead,
+and--"
+
+And what? Alas, what? She waited a second, and then went on, with
+passionate conviction, "And now I am to be married. Yes, you see, I am
+not as wicked as you think. I am to be married; you won't think me
+wicked then, will you? Not when I am married? I couldn't have you say
+those things while I sat and held David. But now I am to be married."
+In her excitement she came and stood beside him, but he would not look
+at her. Silence tingled between them. Over on the sofa, David stirred
+and opened his eyes.
+
+"The child!" William King said; "be careful." He went and lifted David
+to his feet. "Go up-stairs, my boy." He did not look at Mrs. Richie,
+who bent down and kissed David, mechanically,
+
+"I dreamed," the little boy mumbled, "'at my rabbits had earrings;
+an'--"
+
+"Go, dear," she said; and David, drowsily obedient, murmured good-
+night. A minute later they heard him climbing up-stairs.
+
+Helena turned dumb eyes towards the silent figure on the hearth-rug,
+but he would not look at her. Under his breath he said one incredulous
+and tragic word:
+
+"_You?_"
+
+Then he looked at her.
+
+And at his look she hid her face in her bent arm. That new sensation,
+that cleansing fire of shame, swept over her again with its
+intolerable scorch.
+
+"No! No! I am going to be married; I--"
+
+The front door closed behind him. Helena, alone, crouched, sobbing, on
+the floor.
+
+_But the Lord was not in the fire._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+"Is old Mr. Wright worse?" Martha called downstairs, when the doctor
+let himself in at midnight.
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, where on earth have you been?" Mrs. King demanded. She was
+leaning over the banisters in her gray flannel dressing-gown, her
+candle in its hooded candlestick, throwing a flickering light on her
+square, anxious face.
+
+William, locking the front door, made no answer. Martha hesitated, and
+then came down-stairs.
+
+"I must say, William, flatly and frankly, that you--" she paused. "You
+look tired out, Willy?"
+
+William, fumbling with the guard-chain, was silent.
+
+"Come into the dining-room and I'll get you something to eat," said
+his wife.
+
+"I don't want anything to eat."
+
+Martha glanced at him keenly. His face was white and haggard, and
+though he looked at her, he did not seem to see her; when she said
+again something about food, he made no answer. "Why, William!" she
+said in a frightened voice. Then with quick common sense, she put her
+alarm behind her. "Come up-stairs, and go to bed. A good night's sleep
+will make a new man of you." And in a sort of cheerful silence, she
+pushed him along in front of her. She asked no more questions, but
+just as he got into bed she brought him a steaming tumbler of whiskey
+and water. "I guess you have taken a little cold, my dear," she said.
+
+William looked at her dumbly; then realizing that there was no escape,
+drank his whiskey, while Martha, her candle in one capable hand,
+waited to make sure that he drained the last drop. When he gave the
+glass back to her, she touched his shoulder gently and bade him go to
+sleep. As she turned away, he caught that capable hand and held it in
+both of his for a moment.
+
+"Martha," he said, "I beg your pardon."
+
+"Oh, well," said Martha, "of course, a doctor often has to be out
+late. If you only don't come down with a cold on your lungs, it's all
+right."
+
+"I sha'n't come down with a cold on my lungs," said William King.
+
+The letter Helena wrote Lloyd Pryor after she had picked herself up,
+sobbing, from the floor, had no diplomacy about it. Things had
+happened; she would not go into them now, she said, but things had
+happened which made her feel that she must accept his offer to carry
+out their original plan. "When I got your letter, last week, I did
+hesitate," she wrote, "because I could not help seeing that you did
+not feel about it as you used to. But I can't hesitate any longer. I
+must ask you--"
+
+Lloyd Pryor read as far as that, and set his teeth. "Lloyd, my
+friend," he said aloud, "it appears you have got to pay the piper."
+
+Swearing quietly to himself he tore the letter into many small pieces,
+and threw them into the fire. "Well," he said grimly, "I have never
+repudiated yet, but I propose to claim my ninety days,--if I can't
+squeeze out of it before that!" He sat a long time in his inner
+office, thinking the thing over: if it had to be, if the piper was
+inexorable, if he could not squeeze out, how should he safeguard
+Alice? Of course, a girl of nineteen is bound to resent her father's
+second marriage; her annoyance and little tempers Lloyd Pryor could
+put up with, if only she need never know the truth. But how should the
+truth be covered? They could all three go to Europe for a year. If
+there was going to be any gossip--and really the chance of gossip was
+rather remote; very few people had known anything about Frederick
+Richie or his affairs, and Helena had absolutely no relatives,--but if
+they went to Europe for a year, any nine days' wonder would have
+subsided before they got back. As for the offensiveness of presenting
+Helena to his daughter as a stepmother, Pryor winced, but admitted
+with a cold impartiality, that she was not intrinsically
+objectionable. It was only the idea which was unpleasant. In fact, if
+things were not as they were, she would make an admirable stepmother--
+"and she is good-looking still," he thought, with an effort to console
+himself, But, of course, if he could squeeze out of it--And so his
+answer to Helena's letter was a telegram to say he was coming to Old
+Chester.
+
+William King, driving down the hill in the October dusk, had a glimpse
+of him as the stage pulled up at the gate of the Stuffed Animal House,
+and the doctor's face grew dully red. He had not seen Helena since
+that black, illuminating night; he had not seen Dr, Lavendar; he had
+scarcely seen his own wife. He devoted himself to his patients, who,
+it appeared, lived back among the hills. At any rate, he was away from
+home from morning until night. William had many things to face in
+those long drives out into the country, but the mean self-
+consciousness that he had been fooled was not among them. A larger
+matter than mortification held him in its solemn grip. On his way
+home, in the chill October twilights, he usually stopped at Mr.
+Benjamin Wright's. But he never drew rein at the green gate in the
+hedge; as he was passing it the night that Pryor arrived, he had to
+turn aside to let the stage draw up. A man clambered out, and in the
+dull flash of the stage lanterns, William saw his face.
+
+"Lloyd?" some one said, in a low voice; it was Mrs. Richie, waiting
+for him inside the gate. William King's face quivered in the darkness.
+
+"That you, Nelly?" Mr. Pryor said;--"no, no; I'll carry my own bag,
+thank you. Did a hamper come down on the morning stage? Good! We'll
+have something to eat. I hope you haven't got a sick cook this time.
+Well, how are you?"
+
+He kissed her, and put his arm around her; then withdrew it, reminding
+himself not to be a fool. Yet she was alluring! If only she would be
+sensible, there was no reason why things should not be as pleasant as
+ever. If she obliged him to pay the piper, Lloyd Pryor was coldly
+aware that things would never be pleasant again.
+
+"So many dreadful things have happened!" she burst out; but checked
+herself and asked about his journey; "and--and Alice?"
+
+"Oh, pleasant enough, rather chilly. She's well, thank you." And then
+they were at the door, and in the bustle of coming in, and taking off
+his coat, and saying "Hullo, David! Where's your sling?" disagreeable
+topics were postponed. But in the short twilight before the parlor
+fire, and at the supper-table, the easy commonplaces of conversation
+tingled with the consciousness of the inevitable reappearance of those
+same topics. Once, at the table, he looked at her with a frown.
+
+"What's the matter, Nelly? You look old! Have you been sick?"
+
+"Things have happened," she said with an effort; "I've been worried."
+
+"What things?" he said; but before she could reply, Sarah came in with
+hot waffles, and the subject was dropped.
+
+"You need more cinnamon with this sugar," Mr. Pryor said with
+annoyance. And Helena, flushing with anxiety, told the woman to add
+some cinnamon at once. "Oh, never mind now," he said.--"But you ought
+to look out for things like that," he added when Sarah had left the
+room. And Helena said quickly, that she would; she was so sorry!
+
+"Dr. Lavendar," David announced, "he won't let you say you don't like
+things. He says it ain't polite. But I don't like--"
+
+"Dry up! dry up!" Mr. Pryor said irritably; "Helena, this young man
+talks too much."
+
+Helena whispered to David to be quiet. She had already arranged with
+him that he was not to come into the parlor after supper, which was an
+agreeable surprise to him; "For, you know, I don't like your brother,"
+he said, "nor neither does Danny." Helena was too absorbed to
+remonstrate; she did, however, remember to tell Mr. Pryor that David
+had asked if she was coming up to hear him say his prayers.
+
+"I told him I couldn't to-night; and what do you suppose he said? He
+said, 'Does God like ladies better than gentlemen? I do.'"
+
+It made him laugh, as she had hoped it would. "I fancy that is a
+reflection upon me," he said. "The young man has never liked me." And
+when he had clipped off the end of his cigar and struck a match under
+the mantelpiece, he added, "So you hear him say his prayers? I didn't
+know you were so religiously inclined."
+
+"I'm not religiously inclined; but, of course, one has to teach a
+child to say his prayers."
+
+"Oh, I don't object to religion," Mr. Pryor assured her; "in fact, I
+like it--"
+
+"In other people?" she interrupted gayly.
+
+"Well, yes; in other people. At any rate in your charming sex. Alice
+is very religious. And I like it very much. In fact, I have a good
+deal of feeling about it. I wouldn't do anything to--to shock her, you
+know. I really am perfectly sincere about that, Helena."
+
+He was sincere; he looked at her with an anxiety that for once was
+quite simple.
+
+"That's why I wrote you as I did about the future. I am greatly
+embarrassed about Alice."
+
+She caught her breath at the suddenness of his reference, but she knew
+him well enough not to be much surprised. If a disagreeable topic was
+to be discussed, the sooner it was taken up and disposed of, the
+better. That was Lloyd's way.
+
+"Of course," he went on, "if Alice knew of our--ah, acquaintance, it
+would shock her. It would shock her very much." He paused. "Alice's
+great charm is her absolute innocence," he added thoughtfully.
+
+That comment was like a blow in the face. Helena caught her breath
+with the shock of it. But she could not stop to analyze its peculiar
+terror. "Alice needn't know," she began--but he made an impatient
+gesture.
+
+"If we married, it would certainly come out."
+
+He was standing with his back to the fire, one hand in his pocket, the
+other holding his cigar; he blew three smoke rings, and smiled. "Will
+you let me off, Nelly?"
+
+"I know you don't love me," she broke out passionately--
+
+"Oh, now, Helena, not a scene, please! My dear, I love you as much as
+ever. You are a charming woman, and I greatly value your friendship.
+But I can love you just as much, not to say more, if you are here in
+your own house in Old Chester, instead of being in my house in
+Philadelphia. Why, it would be like sitting on a volcano!"
+
+"I cannot stay in Old Chester any longer," she said; "dreadful things
+have happened, and--"
+
+"What things? You said that before. Do explain these mysterious
+allusions."
+
+"Mr., Wright's son," she began--and then her voice broke. But she told
+him as well as she could.
+
+Mr. Pryor gave a frowning whistle. "Shocking! Poor Nelly!"
+
+"You see, I must go away," she said, wringing her hands; "I can't bear
+it!"
+
+"But, my dear," he protested, "it wasn't your fault. You were not to
+blame because a rash boy--" Then a thought struck him, "but how the
+devil did he discover--?"
+
+When Helena explained that she supposed old Mr. Wright had told his
+grandson, Pryor's anger broke out: "He knew? How did _he_ find out?"
+
+Helena shook her head; she had never understood that, she said.
+Lloyd's anger always confused her, and when he demanded furiously why
+she had not told him about the old fool--"he'll blazon the whole
+thing!"--she protested, quivering, that Mr. Wright would not do that.
+
+"I meant to tell you, but I--I forgot it. And anyway, I knew he
+wouldn't; he said he wouldn't; besides, he had a stroke when he heard
+about Sam, and he hasn't spoken since. And Dr. King--" she winced--
+"Dr. King says it's the beginning of the end."
+
+"Thank God!" Lloyd said profoundly relieved. He stood frowning for a
+minute, then shrugged his shoulders, "Well, of course, that settles
+it; you can't stay here; there's no question about that. But there's a
+very pleasant little town, on the other side of Mercer, and--"
+
+"It isn't just the going away," she broke in; "it's being different
+from people. I never thought about it before; I never really minded.
+But now, I can't help seeing that if you are--different, I mean just
+to please yourself, you know, it--it hurts other people, somehow. Oh,
+I can't explain," she said, incoherently, "and I don't want to trouble
+you, or talk about right and wrong, and religion, and--that sort of
+thing--"
+
+"No; please don't," he said, dryly.
+
+"But you promised--you promised!"
+
+"I promised," he said, "and I have a prejudice in favor of keeping my
+word. Religion, as you call it, has nothing to do with it. I will
+marry you; I told you so when I wrote to you. But I felt that if I put
+the matter before you, and told you how difficult the situation was,
+and appealed to your generosity, for Alice's sake--"
+
+"I appeal to _your_ generosity!--for the sake of other people. It
+isn't only Alice who would be shocked, if it was found out. Lloyd, I
+don't insist on living with you. Keep the marriage a secret, if you
+want to; only, I must, I must be married!" She got up and came and
+stood beside him, laying her hands on his arm, and lifting her
+trembling face to his; he frowned, and shrugged her hands away.
+
+"Go and sit down, Nelly. Don't get excited. I told you that I had a
+prejudice in favor of keeping my word."
+
+She drew back and sat down on the sofa, cowering a little in the
+corner. "Do you suppose I have no pride?" she breathed. "Do you
+suppose it is easy for me to--_urge?_" He saw her fingers tremble as,
+with elaborate self-control, she pleated the crimson silk of her skirt
+in little folds across her knee. For a moment they were both silent.
+
+"Secrecy wouldn't do," he said, "To get married, and not tell, is only
+whipping Satan round the stump as far as Alice is concerned.
+Ultimately it would make double explanations. The marriage would come
+out, somehow, and then the very natural question would be: 'Why the
+devil were they married secretly?' No; you can't keep those things
+hidden. And as for Alice, if she didn't think anything else, she'd
+think I had fibbed to her. And that would nearly kill her; she has a
+perfect mania about truth! You see, it leads up to the same thing:
+Alice's discovery that I have been--like most men. No; if it's got to
+be, it shall be open and aboveboard."
+
+She gasped with relief; his look of cold annoyance meant, just for the
+moment, nothing at all.
+
+I shall tell her that I have met a lady with whom I was in love a long
+time ago--"
+
+"_Was_ in love? Oh, Lloyd!" she broke in with a cry of pain; at which
+intrusion of sentimentality Lloyd Pryor said with ferocity: "What's
+that got to do with it? I'm going to pay the piper! I'll tell Alice
+that or any other damned thing I please. I'll tell her I'm going to be
+married in two or three months; I shall go through the form of an
+engagement. Alice won't like it, of course. No girl likes to have a
+stepmother; but I shall depend on you, Helena, to make the thing go as
+well as possible. That's all I have to say."
+
+He set his teeth and turning his back on her, threw his half-smoked
+cigar into the fire, Helena, cowering on the sofa, murmured something
+of gratitude, Mr. Pryor did not take the trouble to listen.
+
+"Well," he said, "the next thing is to get you away from this place.
+We've got to stage the drama carefully, I can tell you."
+
+"I can go at once."
+
+"Well; you had better go to New York;--what will you do with your
+youngster?" he interrupted himself. "Leave him on Dr. Lavendar's
+doorstep, I suppose?"
+
+"My youngster?" she repeated. "Do you mean David?"
+
+Mr. Pryor nodded absently, he was not interested in David.
+
+"Why," Helena said breathlessly, "you didn't suppose I was going to
+leave David?"
+
+At which, in spite of his preoccupation, Pryor laughed outright. "My
+dear Helena, even you can hardly be so foolish as to suppose that you
+could take David with you?"
+
+She sat looking at him, blankly, "Not take David! Why, you surely
+didn't think that I would give up David?"
+
+"My dear," said Lloyd Pryor, "you will either give him up, or you will
+give me up."
+
+"And you don't care which!" she burst out passionately.
+
+He gave her a deadly look. "I do care which."
+
+And at that she blenched but clung doggedly to his promise. "You must
+marry me!"
+
+"There is no _must_ about it. I will. I have told you so. But _I_ did
+not suppose it was necessary to make your giving up David a condition.
+Not that I mean to turn the young man out, I'm sure. Only, I decline
+to take him in. But, good Heavens, Helena," he added, in perfectly
+genuine astonishment, "it isn't possible that you seriously
+contemplated keeping him? Will you please consider the effect upon the
+domestic circle of a very natural reference on his part, to your
+_brother?_ You might as well take your servants along with you--or
+your Old Chester doctor! Really, my dear Nelly," he ended banteringly,
+"I should have supposed that even you would have had more sense."
+
+Helena grew slowly very white. She felt as if caught in a trap; and
+yet the amused surprise in Lloyd Pryor's face was honest enough, and
+perfectly friendly. "I cannot leave David here," she said faintly. And
+as terror and despair and dumb determination began to look out of her
+eyes, the man beside her grew gayly sympathetic.
+
+"I perfectly understand how you feel, He is a nice little chap. But,
+of course, you see it would be impossible?"
+
+"I can't give him up."
+
+"I wouldn't," he said amiably. "You can go away from Old Chester--of
+course you must do that--and take him with you. And I will come and
+see you as often as I can."
+
+He breathed more freely than he had for weeks; more freely than since
+the receipt of that brief despatch:--"F. is dead," and the initials H.
+R. So far from having used a sling and a smooth stone from the brook,
+the boy had been a veritable armor-bearer to the giant! Well; poor
+Nelly! From her point of view, it was of course a great
+disappointment. He hated to have her unhappy; he hated to see
+suffering; he wished they could get through this confounded interview.
+His sidewise, uneasy glance at her tense figure, betrayed his
+discomfort at the sight of pain. What a pity she had aged so, and that
+her hands had grown so thin. But she had her old charm yet; certainly
+she was still an exquisite creature in some ways--and she had not
+grown too fat. He had been afraid once that she would get fat. How
+white her neck was; it was like swan's-down where the lace fell open
+in the front of her dress. For a moment he forgot his prudent
+resolutions; he put his arm around her and bent his head to touch her
+throat with his lips.
+
+But she pushed him away with a flaming look. "David saves you, does
+he? Well; he will save me!"
+
+Without another word she left him, as she had left him once before,
+alone in the long parlor with the faintly snapping fire, and the
+darkness pressing against the uncurtained windows. This time he did
+not follow her to plead outside her closed door. There was a moment's
+hesitation, then he shook his head, and took a fresh cigar.
+
+"No," he said, "it's better this way."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+"If it was _me_ that was doin' it," said Sarah, "I'd send for the
+doctor."
+
+"Well, but," Maggie protested, "she might be mad."
+
+"If it was me, I'd let her be mad."
+
+"Well, then, why don't you?" Maggie retorted.
+
+"Send for him?" Sarah said airily impersonal. "Oh, it's none of my
+business."
+
+"Did you even it to her?" Maggie asked in a worried way.
+
+"I did. I says, 'You're sick, Mrs. Richie,' I says.--She looked like
+she was dead--'Won't I tell George to run down and ask Dr. King to
+come up?' I says." "An" what did she say?" Maggie asked absently. She
+knew what Mrs. Richie had said, because this was the fourth time she
+and Sarah had gone over it.
+
+"'No,' she says, 'I don't want the doctor. There's nothing the
+matter.' And she like death! An' I says, 'Will you see Mr. Pryor,
+ma'am, before he goes?' And she says, 'No,' she says; 'tell Mr. Pryor
+that I ain't feelin' very well.' An' I closed the shutters again, an'
+come down-stairs. But if it was me, I'd send for Dr. King. If she
+ain't well enough to see her own brother--and him just as kind!"--
+Sarah put her hand into the bosom of her dress for a dollar bill--
+"Look at that! And you had one, too, though he's hardly ever set eyes
+on you, If she ain't well enough to see him, she's pretty sick."
+
+"Well," said Maggie, angrily, "I guess I earned my dollar as much as
+you. Where would his dinner be without me? That's always the way. The
+cook ain't seen, so she gets left out."
+
+"You ain't got left out this time, anyhow. He's a kind man; I've
+always said so. And she said she wasn't well enough to see him! Well;
+if it was me's I'd send for Dr. King."
+
+So the two women wrangled, each fearful of responsibility; until at
+last, after Maggie had twice gone up-stairs and listened at that
+silent door, they made up their minds.
+
+"David," Maggie said, "you go and wait at the gate, and when the
+butcher's cart comes along, you tell him you want on. An' you go down
+street, an' tell him you want off at Dr. King's. An' you ask Dr. King
+to come right along up here. Tell him Mrs. Richie's real sick."
+
+"If it was me, I'd let him wait till he goes to school," Sarah began
+to hesitate; "she'll be mad."
+
+But Maggie had started in and meant to see the matter through: "Let
+her be mad!"
+
+"Well, it's not my doin'," Sarah said with a fine carelessness, and
+crept up-stairs to listen again at Mrs. Richie's door. "Seemed like as
+if she was sort of--_cryin_'!" she told Maggie in an awed whisper
+when she came down.
+
+David brought his message to the doctor's belated breakfast table.
+William had been up nearly all night with a very sick patient, and
+Martha had been careful not to wake him in the morning. He pushed his
+plate back, as David repeated Maggie's words, and looked blankly at
+the table-cloth.
+
+"She's never really got over the shock about Sam Wright's Sam, has
+she?" Martha said. "Sometimes I almost think she was--" Mrs. King's
+expressive pantomime of eyebrows and lips meant "in love with him"--
+words not to be spoken before a child.
+
+"Nonsense!" said William King curtly. "No; I don't want any more
+breakfast, thank you, my dear. I'll go and hitch up."
+
+Martha followed him to the back door. "William, maybe she's lonely.
+I'm very tired, but perhaps I'd better go along with you, and cheer
+her up?" "Oh, no," he called back over his shoulder; "it isn't
+necessary." Then he added hastily, "but it's very kind in you, Martha,
+to think of it."
+
+"I'd just as lieves," she insisted flushing with pleasure.
+
+He tried to get his thoughts in order as he and Jinny climbed the
+hill. He knew what, sooner or later, he must say to Mrs. Richie, and
+he thought with relief, that if she were really ill, he could not say
+it that day. But the sight of David had brought his duty home to him.
+He had thought about it for days, and tried to see some way of escape;
+but every way was blocked by tradition or religion. Once he had said
+stumblingly to Dr. Lavendar, that it was wonderful how little harm
+came to a child from bad surroundings, and held his breath for the
+reply.
+
+"An innocent child in a bad home," said Dr. Lavendar cheerfully,
+"always makes me think of a water-lily growing out of the mud."
+
+"Yes!" said the doctor, "the mud doesn't hurt it."
+
+"Not the lily; but unfortunately, Willy, my boy, every child isn't a
+lily. I wouldn't want to plant one in the mud to see how it would
+grow, would you?"
+
+And William admitted that he would not.
+
+After that he even put the matter to his wife "Martha, you're a
+sensible woman, I'd like to ask you about a case." "Oh, well," said
+Martha simpering, "I don't pretend to any very great wisdom, but I do
+know something about sickness."
+
+"This isn't sickness; it's about a child. Do you think a child is
+susceptible to the influence of an older person who is not of the
+highest character? If, for instance, the mother was--not good, do you
+suppose a child would be injured?"
+
+"Not good?" said Martha, horrified. "Oh, William' Somebody in Upper
+Chester, I suppose?"
+
+"But she is a devoted mother; you couldn't be more conscientious
+yourself. So do you think her conduct could do any harm to a child?"
+
+"Oh, Willy! A child in the care of a bad woman? Shocking!"
+
+"Not bad--not bad--" he said faintly.
+
+"Most shocking! Of course a child would be susceptible to such
+influences."
+
+William drew arabesques on the table-cloth with his fork, "Well, I
+don't know--" he began,
+
+"_I_ know!" said Martha, and began to lay down the law. For if
+Martha prided herself upon anything, besides her common sense, it was
+the correctness of her views upon the training of children. But she
+stopped long enough to say, "William, please! the table-cloth." And
+William put his fork down.
+
+He thought of his wife's words very often in the next few days. He
+thought of them when David stood rattling the knob of the dining-room
+door, and saying "Maggie says please come and see Mrs. Richie." He
+thought of them as Jinny pulled him slowly up the hill.
+
+Sarah was lying in wait for him at the green gate. Maggie had sent for
+him, she said; and having put the responsibility where it belonged,
+she gave him what information she could. Mrs. Richie wasn't well
+enough to see her brother before he went away on the stage; she
+wouldn't eat any breakfast, and she looked like she was dead. And when
+she (Sarah) had given her a note from Mr. Pryor, she read it and right
+afterwards kind of fainted away like. An' when she come to, she
+(Sarah) had said, "Don't you want the doctor?" An' Mrs. Richie said
+"No." "But Maggie was scared, Dr. King; and she just sent David for
+you."
+
+"Quite right," said William King, "Let Mrs. Richie know I am here."
+
+He followed the woman to Helena's door, and heard the smothered
+dissenting murmur within; but before Sarah, evidently cowed, could
+give him Mrs. Richie's message that she was much obliged, but did not
+wish--William entered the room. She was lying with her face hidden in
+her pillows; one soft braid fell across her shoulder, then sagged down
+and lay along the sheet, crumpled and wrinkled with a restless night.
+That braid, with its tendrils of little loose locks, was a curious
+appeal. She did not turn as he sat down beside her, and he had to lean
+over to touch her wrist with his quiet fingers.
+
+"I did not send for you," she said in a muffled voice; "there is
+nothing the matter."
+
+"You haven't had any breakfast," said William King. "Sarah, bring Mrs.
+Richie some coffee."
+
+"I don't want--"
+
+"You must have something to eat."
+
+Helena drew a long, quivering breath; "I wish you would go away. There
+is nothing the matter with me."
+
+"I can't go until you feel better, Mrs. Richie."
+
+She was silent. Then she turned a little, gathering up the two long
+braids so that they fell on each side of her neck and down across her
+breast; their soft darkness made the pallor of her face more marked.
+She was so evidently exhausted that when Sarah brought the coffee, the
+doctor slipped his hand under her shoulders and lifted her while she
+drank it.
+
+"Don't try to talk; I want you to sleep."
+
+"Sleep! I can't sleep."
+
+"You will," he assured her.
+
+She lay back on her pillows, and for the first time she looked at him.
+"Dr. King, he has quarrelled with me."
+
+William flinched, as though some wound had been touched; then he said,
+"Don't talk of it now."
+
+She turned her face sharply away from him, burying it in her pillow.
+
+"Mrs. Richie, you must try to eat something. See, Maggie has sent you
+some very nice toast."
+
+"I won't eat. I wish you would go."
+
+There was silence for a moment. Then, suddenly, she cried out, "Well?
+What are you going to do, all of you? What did Dr. Lavendar say?"
+
+"Dr. Lavendar doesn't know anything about it."
+
+"I don't know why I told you! I was out of my head, I think. And now
+you despise me."
+
+"I don't despise you."
+
+She laughed. "Of course you do."
+
+"Mrs. Richie, I'm too weak myself to despise anybody."
+
+"I wish you would go away," she repeated.
+
+"I will; but you must have a sedative first."
+
+"David's bromide?" she said sarcastically, "A broken finger, or a
+broken--well, anything. Dr. King--you won't tell Dr. Lavendar?"
+
+"Tell? What kind of a man do you suppose I am! I wish you would tell
+him yourself, though."
+
+"Tell him myself?" she gave him another swift look that faltered as
+her eyes met his. "You are crazy! He would take David away."
+
+"Mrs. Richie," said William miserably, "you know you can't keep
+David."
+
+"Not keep David!"
+
+She sat up in bed, supported on each side by her shaking hands; she
+was like a wild creature at bay, she looked him full in the face. "Do
+you think I would give him up, just to please you, or Dr. Lavendar,
+when I quarrelled with Lloyd, to keep him? Lloyd wouldn't agree that I
+should have him. Yes; if it hadn't been for David, you wouldn't have
+the right to despise me! Why, he's all I've got in the world."
+
+William King was silent.
+
+"You think I am wicked! But what harm could I possibly do him?" Her
+supporting arms shook so that the doctor laid a gentle hand on her
+shoulder,
+
+"Lie down," he said, and she fell back among her pillows.
+
+"Who could do more for him than I can? Who could love him so much? He
+has everything!" she said faintly.
+
+"Please take this medicine," William interposed, and his calm,
+impersonal voice was like a blow, "Oh, you despise me! But if you
+knew--"
+
+"I don't despise you," he said again. And added, "I almost wish I
+did."
+
+But this she did not hear. She was saying desperately, "I will never
+give David up. I wish I hadn't told you; but I will never give him
+up!"
+
+"I am going now," the doctor said. "But sometime I am afraid I must
+tell you how I feel about David. But I'll go now. I want you to try to
+sleep."
+
+When he had gone, she took from under her pillow that letter which had
+made her "faint like." It was brief, but conclusive:
+
+"The matter of the future has seemed to settle itself--I think wisely;
+and I most earnestly hope, happily, for you. The other proposition
+would have meant certain unhappiness all round. Keep your boy; I am
+sure you will find him a comfort. I am afraid you are a little too
+excited to want to see me again immediately. But as soon as you decide
+where you will go, let me know, and let me be of any service in
+finding a house, etc. Then, when you are settled and feel equal to a
+visit, I'll appear. I should certainly be very sorry to let any little
+difference of opinion about this boy interfere with our friendship.
+L.P."
+
+Sitting up in bed, she wrote in lead-pencil, two lines;
+
+"I will never see you again. I never want to hear your name again."
+
+She did not even sign her name.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+To have David go away for the long-anticipated trip with Dr.
+Lavendar, was a relief to Helena struggling up from a week of profound
+prostration. Most of the time she had been in bed, only getting up to
+sit with David at breakfast and supper, to take what comfort she might
+in the little boy's joyous but friendly unconcern. He was full of
+importance in the prospect of his journey; there was to be one night
+on a railroad-car, which in itself was a serious experience; another
+in an hotel; hotel! David glowed at the word. In Philadelphia they
+were to see the sights in the morning; in the afternoon, to be sure,
+Dr. Lavendar had warned him that it would be necessary to sit still
+while some one talked. However, it is never necessary to listen. After
+the talking, they would go and see the ships at the wharves, and
+Liberty Bell. Then--David's heart sank; bed loomed before him, But it
+would be an hotel bed;--there was some comfort in that! Besides, it is
+never necessary to sleep. The next day going home on the cars they
+would see the Horseshoe Curve; the very words made his throat swell
+with excitement.
+
+"Did the locomotive engine ever drop off of it?" he asked Helena.
+
+"No, dear," she said languidly, but with a smile. She always had a
+smile for David.
+
+After the Horseshoe Curve there would be a night at Mercer. Mercer, of
+course, was less exciting than Philadelphia; still, it was
+"travelling," and could be boasted of at recess. But as David thought
+of Mercer, he had a bleak revelation. For weeks his mind had been on
+this journey; beyond it, his thought did not go. Now, there rushed
+upon him the staggering knowledge that after the night in Mercer,
+_life would still go on!_ Yes, he would be at home; in Miss Rose
+Knight's school-room; at supper with Mrs. Richie. It is a heavy
+moment, this first consciousness that nothing lasts. It made David
+feel sick; he put his spoon down and looked at Mrs. Richie. "I shall
+be back," he said blankly.
+
+And at that her eyes filled. "Yes, darling! Won't that be nice!"
+
+And yet his absence for the next few days would be a relief to her.
+She could think the whole thing out, she said to herself. She had not
+been well enough to think clearly since Lloyd had gone. To adjust her
+mind to the bitter finality meant swift oscillations of hate and the
+habit of affection--the spirit warring with the flesh. She would never
+see him again;--she would send for him! she despised him;--what should
+she do without him? Yet she never wavered about David. She had made
+her choice. William King's visit had not shaken her decision for an
+instant; it had only frightened her horribly. How should she defend
+herself? She meant to think it all out, undisturbed by the sweet
+interruptions of David's presence. And yet she knew she should miss
+him every minute of his absence. Miss him? If Dr. King had known what
+even three days without David would mean to her, he would not have
+wasted his breath in suggesting that she should give him up! Yet the
+possibility of such a thing had the allurement of terror; she played
+with the thought, as a child, wincing, presses a thorn into its flesh
+to see how long it can bear the smart. Suppose, instead of this three
+days' trip with Dr. Lavendar, David was going away to stay? The mere
+question made her catch him in her arms as if to assure herself he was
+hers.
+
+The day before he started, Helena was full of maternal preoccupations.
+The travelling-bag that she had begun to pack for herself--for so
+different a journey!--had to be emptied of its feminine possessions,
+and David's little belongings stowed in their place. David himself had
+views about this packing; he kept bringing one thing or another--his
+rubber boots, a cocoon, a large lump of slag honeycombed with air-
+holes; would she please put them into the bag?
+
+"Why, but darling, you will be back again on Saturday," she consoled
+him, as each treasure was rejected.--("Suppose he was _not_ coming
+back! How should I feel?")
+
+He was to spend the night before the journey at the Rectory, and after
+supper Helena went down the hill with him. "I wish I hadn't consented
+to it," she said to herself; "do you like to go and leave me, David?"
+she pleaded.
+
+And David jumping along at her side, said joyously, "Yes, ma'am."
+
+At the Rectory he pushed the door open and bounded in ahead of her,
+"I'm here!"
+
+Dr. Lavendar put down his _Spirit of Missions_, and looked over his
+spectacles. "You don't say so! And you're here, too, Mrs. Richie?
+Come in!"
+
+Helena, hesitating in the hall, said she had only come to leave David.
+But Dr. Lavendar would not listen to that.
+
+"Sit down! Sit down!" he commanded genially.
+
+David, entirely at home, squatted at once upon the rug beside Danny.
+"Dr. Lavendar," she said, "you'll bring him back to me on Saturday?"
+
+"Unless I steal him for myself," said Dr. Lavendar, twinkling at
+David, who twinkled back, cozily understanding.
+
+Helena stooped over him and kissed him; then took one of his reluctant
+hands from its clasp about his knees and held it, patting it, and once
+furtively kissing it, "Good-by, David. Saturday you'll be at home
+again."
+
+The child's face fell. His sigh was not personal; it only meant the
+temporariness of all human happiness. Staring into the fire in sudden
+melancholy, he said, "'By." But the next minute he sparkled into
+excited joy, and jumped up to hang about her neck and whisper that in
+Philadelphia he was going to buy a false-face for a present for Dr.
+Lavendar; "or else a jew's-harp. He'll give it to me afterwards; and I
+think I want a jew's-harp the most," he explained.
+
+"David," Helena said in a whisper, putting her cheek down against his,
+"Oh, David, won't you please, give me--'forty kisses'? I'm so--
+lonely."
+
+David drew back and looked hard into her face that quivered in spite
+of the smile she had summoned to meet his eyes. It was a long look,
+for a child; then suddenly, he put both arms around her neck in a
+breathless squeeze. "One--two--three--four--" he began.
+
+William King, coming in for his evening smoke, saw that quick embrace;
+his face moved with pain, and he stepped back into the hall with some
+word of excuse about his coat. When he returned, she was standing up,
+hurrying to get away. "Saturday," she repeated to Dr. Lavendar;
+"Saturday, surely?"
+
+"Why," the old man said smiling, "you make me feel like a thief. Yes;
+you shall have him Saturday night. Willy, my boy, do you think Mrs.
+Richie ought to go up the hill alone?"
+
+"Oh, it will be bright moonlight in a few minutes," she protested
+nervously, not looking at the doctor.
+
+"I will walk home with Mrs. Richie," William said.
+
+"No! oh, no; please don't!" The dismay in her voice was unmistakable.
+
+Dr. Lavendar thrust out a perplexed lower lip. "If she'd rather just
+go by herself, Willy, there are no highwaymen in Old Chester, and--"
+
+But William King interrupted him gently. "I wish to speak to Mrs.
+Richie." And Dr. Lavendar held his tongue.
+
+"I am sorry to bother you," William said, as he held the gate open for
+her; "but I felt I must speak to you."
+
+Helena made no reply. All the way down the street, almost to the foot
+of the hill, Old Chester's evening stillness was unbroken, except for
+the rustle of fallen leaves under their feet. Suddenly the great disk
+of the hunter's moon lifted slowly up behind the hills, and the night
+splintered like a dark crystal; sheets of light spread sharply in the
+open road, gulfs of shadow deepened under trees and beside walls. It
+was as abrupt as sound. William King broke into hurried words as
+though he had been challenged: "I knew you didn't want me to walk home
+with you, but indeed you ought not to go up the hill alone. Please
+take my arm; the flagging is so uneven here."
+
+"No, thank you."
+
+"Mrs. Richie, please don't feel that I am not your friend, just
+because--Indeed, I think I am more your friend than I ever was. You
+will believe that, won't you?"
+
+"Oh, I suppose so; that is the way saints always talk to sinners."
+
+"I am far enough from being a saint," William King said with an
+awkward effort to laugh; "but--"
+
+"But I am a sinner?" she interrupted.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Richie, don't let us talk this way! I have nothing but pity,
+and--and friendship. The last thing I mean to do, is to set myself as
+a judge of your actions; God knows I have no right to judge anybody!
+But this matter of David, that's what I wanted to speak to you about.
+My responsibility," he stopped, and drew in his breath. "Don't you
+see, my responsibility--"
+
+Helena did not speak; she was marshalling all her forces to fight for
+her child. How should she begin? But he did not wait for her to begin.
+
+"I would rather lose my right hand than pain you. I've gone all over
+it, a hundred times. I've tried to see some way out. But I can't. The
+only way is for you to give him up. It isn't right for you to have
+him! Mrs. Richie, I say this, and it is hard and cruel, and yet I
+never felt more"--William King stopped short--"friendly," he ended
+brokenly.
+
+He was walking at a pace she found hard to follow. "I can't go quite
+so fast," she said faintly, and instantly he came to a dead stop.
+
+"Dr. King, I want to explain to you--"
+
+She lifted her face, all white and quivering in the moonlight, but
+instead of explanations, she broke out: "Oh, if you take him away from
+me, I shall die! I don't care very much about living anyhow. But I
+can't live without David. Please, Dr. King; oh, please; I will be
+good! I will be good," she repeated like a child, and stood there
+crying, and clinging to his arm. All her reasons and excuses and
+pleadings had dropped out of her mind. "Don't take him away from me; I
+will be good!" she said.
+
+William King, with those trembling hands on his arm, looked down at
+her and trembled too. Then roughly, he pushed her hands away. "Come
+on. We mustn't stand here. Don't you suppose I feel this as much as
+you do? I love children, and I know what it means to you to let David
+go. But more than that, I--have a regard for you, and it pains me
+inexpressibly to do anything that pains you. You can't understand how
+terrible this is to me, and I can't tell you. I mustn't tell you. But
+never mind, it's true. It isn't right, no, it isn't right! that a
+woman who--you know what I mean. And even if, after all, you should
+marry him, what sort of a man is he to have charge of a little boy
+like David? He has deceived us, and lied to us; he is a loose liver,
+a--"
+
+"Wait," she panted; "I am not going to marry him. I thought you
+understood that."
+
+He drew away from her with a horrified gesture. "And you would keep an
+innocent child--"
+
+"No! No! I've broken with him--on account of David!"
+
+"Broken with him!" said William King; he caught her by the wrist, and
+stared at her. Then with a breathless word that she could not hear, he
+dropped her hand and turned his face away.
+
+Again, in their preoccupation, they stood still; this time in a great
+bank of shadow by the wall of the graveyard half-way up the hill.
+
+"So you won't take him from me?" she said; "I will leave Old Chester.
+You need never see me again."
+
+"Good God!" said William King, "do you think that is what I want?"
+
+She tried to see his face, but he had turned his back on her so that
+she stood behind him. Her hands were clasping and unclasping and her
+voice fluttering in her throat. "You won't take him?"
+
+"Mrs. Richie," he said harshly, "do you love that man still?"
+
+But before she could answer, he put the question aside. "No! Don't
+tell me. I've no right to ask. I--don't want to know. I've no right to
+know. It's--it's nothing to me, of course." He moved as he spoke out
+into the moonlight, and began to climb the pebbly road; she was a step
+or two behind him. When he spoke again his voice was indifferent to
+the point of contempt. "This side is smoother; come over here. I am
+glad you are not going to marry Mr. Pryor. He is not fit for you to
+marry."
+
+"Not fit for--_me!_" she breathed.
+
+"And I am glad you have broken with him. But that has no bearing upon
+your keeping David. A child is the most precious thing in the world;
+he must be trained, and--and all that. Whether you marry this man or
+not makes no difference about David. If you have lived--as you have
+lived--you ought not to have him. But I started the whole thing. I
+made Dr. Lavendar give him to you. He didn't want to, somehow; I don't
+know why. So don't you see? I _can't_ leave him in your care. Surely
+you see that? I am responsible. Responsible not only to David, but to
+Dr. Lavendar."
+
+"If Dr. Lavendar is willing to let me have him, I don't see why you
+need to feel so about it. What harm could I do him? Oh, how cruel you
+are--how cruel you are!"
+
+"Would Dr. Lavendar let you have him, if--he knew?"
+
+"But that's over; that's finished," she insisted. "oh, I tell you,
+it's over!"
+
+The doctor's silence was like a whip.
+
+"Oh, I know; you think that he was here last week. But there has to be
+a beginning of everything--that was the beginning. I told him I would
+not give David up to marry him; and we quarrelled. And--it's over."
+
+"I can't go into that," the doctor said. "That's not my business.
+David is my business. Mrs. Richie, I want you quietly, without any
+explanation, to give the boy back to Dr, Lavendar. If you don't, I
+shall have no choice. I shall have to tell him."
+
+"But you said you wouldn't tell him! Oh, you break your word--"
+
+"I won't tell him your affairs," said William King. "I will never do
+that. But I'll tell him my own--some of them. I'll say I made a
+mistake when I advised him to let you have David, and that I don't
+think you ought to be trusted to bring up a little boy. But I won't
+say why."
+
+"Dr. King, if I tell him just what you've said; that you think you
+made a mistake, and you think I am not to be trusted;--if I tell him
+myself, and he consents to let me keep him, will you interfere?"
+
+William reflected heavily. "He won't consent," he said; "he'll know I
+wouldn't say a thing like that without reason. But if he does, I shall
+be silent."
+
+There was a despairing finality in his words. They were at her own
+gate now; she leaned her head down on it, and he heard a pitiful
+sound. William King's lips were dry, and when he spoke the effort made
+his throat ache. What he said was only the repetition of his duty as
+he saw it. "I'd rather lose my right hand than make you suffer. But
+I've no choice. I've no choice!" And when she did not answer, he added
+his ultimatum. "I'll have to tell Dr. Lavendar on Sunday, unless you
+will just let me settle it all for you by saying that you don't want
+David any long--"
+
+_"Not want David!"_
+
+"I mean, that you've decided you won't keep him any longer. I'll find
+a good home for him, Mrs. Richie," he ended in a shaking voice.
+
+She gave him one look of terror; then opened the gate and shut it
+quickly in his face, drawing the bolt with trembling fingers. As she
+flew up the path, he saw her for an instant as she crossed a patch of
+moonlight; then the darkness hid her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+It was incredible to David as he thought it over afterwards, but he
+actually slept away that wonderful night on the railroad! When he
+climbed on to the shutting-up shelf behind red and green striped
+curtains, nothing had been further from his mind than sleep. It was
+his intention to sit bolt upright and watch the lamps swinging in the
+aisle, to crane his neck over the top of the curtains and look out of
+the small hinged window at the smoke all thick with sparks from the
+locomotive engine, and at the mountains with the stars hanging over
+them, and--at the Horseshoe Curve! But instead of seeing all these
+wonders that he and Dr. Lavendar had talked about for the last few
+weeks, no sooner had he been lifted into his berth than, in a flash,
+the darkness changed to bright daylight. Yes; the dull, common, every-
+night affair of sleep, had interfered with all his plans. He did not
+speak of his disappointment the next morning, as he dressed--somehow--
+in the jostling, swaying little enclosure where the washstands were;
+but he thought about it, resentfully. Sleep! "When I'm a man, I'll
+never sleep," he assured himself; then cheered up as he realized that
+absence from Sarah had brought at least one opportunity of manhood--he
+would not have to wash behind his ears! But he brooded over his
+helplessness to make up for that other loss. He was so silent at
+breakfast in the station that Dr. Lavendar thought he did not like his
+food.
+
+"You can have something else, David. What do you want?"
+
+"Ice-cream," David said, instantly alert.
+
+"At breakfast!" David nodded, and the ice-cream appeared. He ate it in
+silence, and when he had scraped the saucer, he said,
+
+"Can you ever get back behind, sir?"
+
+"Behind what?" Dr. Lavendar asked. He was looking at David and
+wondering what was different about the child; he did not have quite
+his usual aspect. "I must have left off some of his clothes," Dr.
+Lavendar thought anxiously, and that question about getting back
+behind suggested buttons. "Are your braces fastened?" he asked.
+
+"And do it over again," David said. "Is there any way you can get back
+behind, and do it over again?"
+
+"Do what over again?" Dr. Lavendar said. "If they've come unfastened--
+"
+
+"I don't like sleeping," said David. "If I could get behind again, I
+wouldn't."
+
+Dr. Lavendar gave it up, but he fumbled under David's little coat and
+discovered that the buttons were all right. "There seems to be
+something different about you, David," he said, as they pushed their
+chairs from the table. David had no explanation to offer, so Dr.
+Lavendar consulted the waitress: "Is there anything wrong about this
+little boy's clothing? He doesn't look just right--"
+
+"I guess he hasn't had his hair brushed, sir," said the smiling young
+woman, and carried the child off to some lair of her own, whence he
+emerged in his usual order.
+
+"Thank you, my dear," said Dr. Lavendar. He took David's hand, and out
+they stepped into the world! For a moment they stood still on the
+sidewalk to get their breaths in the rush and jostle of the crowd that
+surged along the street; a simple, happy pair--an old man in a blue
+muffler and broad-brimmed felt hat, a child in a little surtout and
+visored cap. David gripped Dr. Lavendar's hand tight, and looked up
+into his face; its smile beaming upon all these hurrying people,
+reassured the child, and he paced along beside the old gentleman in
+grave content. They stopped at the first shop-window, and gazed at a
+row of fish bedded in ice--beautiful iridescent mackerel, fat red
+pompoms, and in the middle, in a nest of seaweed, green-black
+creatures, with great claws that ended in pincers and eyes that looked
+like pegs stuck into their heads. David stared, open-mouthed; then he
+put a hand into his pocket.
+
+"How much would one cost, sir?"
+
+"I don't know," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"I think I will buy one, and take it home and keep it in a cage."
+
+At which Dr. Lavendar said gravely, that he feared the creatures would
+not be happy in a cage--"And besides, people eat them, David."
+
+David was silent; then, in a suppressed voice, he said, "Are they
+happy when people eat them? I think they'd rather be in a cage; I
+would hang it in my window."
+
+But Dr. Lavendar only said, "Dear me! What have we here?" and drew him
+to the next shop, at the door of which stood a wooden Indian, a
+tomahawk in one hand, and a cigar-box in the other. Dr. Lavendar bade
+David wait outside while he went into this shop, which the little boy
+was perfectly willing to do, for it isn't every day you get the chance
+to examine a wooden Indian, even to climbing up on his pedestal and
+feeling his tomahawk with respectful fingers. When Dr. Lavendar came
+out, David took his kind old hand, and burst into confidences.
+
+"When I'm big I'm going to fight Indians. Or else I'll drive fast
+horses. I don't know which. It's hard to decide, ain't it, sir?"
+
+"Very hard. If you choose the horses, I'll give you Goliath."
+
+David was silent; then he sighed: "I guess I'll fight Indians, sir,"
+he said.
+
+But a moment later he was cheerfully confidential; he had thirty cents
+to spend! "Dear, dear," said Dr. Lavendar, "we mustn't do anything
+rash. Here, let's look in this window."
+
+Oh, how many windows there were, and all of them full of beautiful
+things! Dr. Lavendar was willing to stop at every one; and he joined
+in David's game of "mine," with the seriousness that all thoughtful
+persons give to this diversion.
+
+"That's _mine!_" David would cry, pointing to a green china toad
+behind the plate glass; and Dr. Lavendar would say gravely,
+
+"You may have it, David; you may have it."
+
+"Now it's your turn!" David would instruct him.
+
+"Must I take something in this window?" Dr. Lavendar would plead. And
+David always said firmly that he must. "Well, then, that's mine," Dr.
+Lavendar would say.
+
+"Why, that's only a teacup! We have thousands of them at our house!"
+David boasted. "I should think you would rather have the toad. I'll--
+I'll give you the toad, sir?"
+
+"Oh, dear me, no," Dr. Lavendar protested; "I wouldn't rob you for the
+world." And so they sauntered on, hand in hand. When they came to a
+book-store, Dr. Lavendar apologized for breaking in upon their "game."
+"I'm going to play _mine_, in here," he said.
+
+David was quite content to wait at the door and watch the people, and
+the yellow boxes full of windows, drawn by mules with bells jingling
+on their harness. Sometimes he looked fearfully back into the shop;
+but Dr. Lavendar was still playing "mine," so all was well. At last,
+however, he finished his game and came to the door.
+
+"Come along, David; this is the most dangerous place in town!"
+
+David looked at him with interest. "Why did you skip with your eye
+when you said that, sir?" he demanded.
+
+At which the clerk who walked beside them laughed loudly, and David
+grew very red and angry.
+
+But when Dr. Lavendar said, "David, I've got a bone in my arm; won't
+you carry a book for me?" he was consoled, and immediately began to
+ask questions. It seemed to Dr. Lavendar that he inquired about
+everything in heaven and earth and the waters under the earth, and at
+last the old gentleman was obliged, in self-defence, to resort to the
+formula which, according to the code of etiquette understood by these
+two friends, signified "stop talking."
+
+"What is--" David began, and his companion replied glibly:
+
+"Layovers for meddlers and crutches for lame ducks."
+
+And David subsided into giggles, for it was understood that this
+remark was extremely humorous.
+
+After that they went to dinner with a gentleman who wore a long black
+coat and no shirt; at least, David could not see any shirt. Dr.
+Lavendar called him Bishop, and they talked a great deal about
+uninteresting things. David only spoke twice: His host took occasion
+to remark that he did not finish all his mashed potato--"Some poor
+child would be glad of what you waste," said the Bishop. To which
+David replied, "If I ate it, what then, for the poor child?" And the
+gentleman with no shirt said in a grave aside to Dr. Lavendar that the
+present generation was inclined to pertness. His second remark was
+made when the clergymen pushed their chairs back from the table. But
+David sat still. "We haven't had the ice-cream yet," he objected,
+gently. "Hush! Hush!" said Dr. Lavendar. And the gentleman laughed
+very hard, and said that he had to send all his ice-cream to the
+heathen. David, reddening, looked at him in stolid silence. In the
+afternoon there was a pause; they went to church, and listened to
+another gentleman, who talked a long, long time. Sometimes David
+sighed, but he kept pretty quiet, considering. After the talk was
+over, Dr. Lavendar did not seem anxious to get away. David twitched
+his sleeve once or twice to indicate his own readiness, but it
+appeared that Dr. Lavendar preferred to speak to the talking
+gentleman. And the talking gentleman patted David's head and said:
+
+"And what do you think of foreign missions, my little boy?"
+
+David did not answer, but he moved his head from under the large white
+hand.
+
+"You were very good and quiet," said the talking gentleman. "I saw
+you, down in the pew with Dr. Lavendar. And I was very much
+complimented; you never went to sleep." "I couldn't," said David,
+briefly; "the seats are too hard." The talking gentleman laughed a
+little, and you might have thought Dr. Lavendar skipped with his
+eye;--at any rate, he laughed.
+
+"They don't always tell us why they keep awake," he said. And the
+talking gentleman didn't laugh any more.
+
+At last, however, they stopped wasting time, and took up their round
+of dissipation again. They went to see Liberty Bell; then they had
+supper at a marble-topped table, in a room as big as a church! "Ice-
+cream, suh?" suggested a waiter, and David said "Yes!" Dr. Lavendar
+looked doubtful, but David had no doubts. Yet, half-way through that
+pink and white and brown mound on his saucer, he sighed, and opened
+and shut his eyes as if greatly fatigued.
+
+"Finished?" Dr. Lavendar asked.
+
+"No, sir," David said sadly, and started in with a spurt; but the
+mound did not seem to diminish, and suddenly his chin quivered. "If
+you have to pay for what I don't eat, I'll try," he said; "but my
+breast is cold." Reassured on this point, and furtively rubbing his
+little chilly stomach, David put down his spoon and slipped out of his
+chair, ready to make a night of it. For, supper over, they went to see
+a magician!
+
+"I don't know what Mrs. Richie will say to me," said Dr. Lavendar.
+"You won't get to bed before ten o'clock!"
+
+"She'll say 'all right,'" said David. Then he added, "The gentleman at
+dinner tells lies, or else he's foolish. It would melt before the
+heathen got it."
+
+Dr. Lavendar, singing to himself--
+
+  Hither ye faithful, haste with songs of triumph,--
+
+did not hear the morals of his bishop aspersed. He took David's hand,
+and by and by they were sitting staring open-mouthed at a man who put
+eggs in a pan, and held it over a fire, and took out live pigeons! Oh,
+yes, and many other wonders! David never spoke once on his way back to
+the hotel, and Dr. Lavendar began to be worried for fear the child was
+overtired. He hustled him to bed as quickly as possible, and then sat
+down under the far-off chandelier of the hotel bedroom, to glance at a
+newspaper and wait until David was asleep before he got into his own
+bed. He did not have to wait long for the soft breathing of childish
+sleep. It had been poor David's intention to go over in his mind every
+single thing he saw the magician do, so that he wouldn't leave out
+anything at recess on Monday. Alas, before he could begin to think,
+the sun was shining again!
+
+It was Dr. Lavendar who did the thinking before the sunlight came.
+Twice, in his placid, wakeful night, he rose to make sure the child
+was all right, to pull up an extra blanket about the small shoulders
+or to arrange the pillow, punched by David's fist to the edge of the
+bed. In the morning he let the little boy look out of the window while
+he packed up their various belongings; and when it was time to start,
+David could hardly tear himself away from that outlook, which makes
+such a mystical appeal to most of us--huddling roofs and chimneys
+under a morning sky. But when he did turn to look at Dr. Lavendar,
+tucking things into his valise and singing to himself, it was to
+realize again the immutable past. "No," he said slowly, "you can't get
+back behind, and begin again." Dr. Lavendar, understanding, chuckled.
+
+"Can God?" said David.
+
+At that Dr. Lavendar's face suddenly shone. "David," he said, "the
+greatest thing in the world is to know that God is always beginning
+again!"
+
+But David had turned to the window to watch a prowling cat upon a
+roof; and then, alas, it was time to start.
+
+"Well," said Dr. Lavendar, as, hand in hand, they walked to the big,
+roaring place where the cars were, "Well, David, to-morrow we shall be
+at home again! You sit down here and take care of my bag while I go
+and get the tickets."
+
+David slid sidewise on to the slippery wooden settee. He had nothing
+to say; again he felt that bleak sinking right under his little
+breast-bone; but it stopped in the excitement of seeing Mrs. Richie's
+brother coming into the waiting-room! There was a young lady at his
+side, and he piloted her across the big, bare room, to the very settee
+upon which David was swinging his small legs.
+
+"I must see about the checks, dear," he said, and hurried off without
+a glance at the little boy who was guarding Dr. Lavendar's valise.
+
+The sun pouring through the high, dusty window, shone into David's
+eyes. He wrinkled his nose and squinted up at the young lady from
+under the visor of his blue cap. She smiled down at him, pleasantly,
+and then opened a book; upon which David said bravely, "You're
+nineteen. I'm seven, going on eight."
+
+"What!" said the young lady; she put her book down, and laughed. "How
+do you know I am nineteen, little boy?"
+
+"Mrs. Richie's brother said so."
+
+She looked at him with amused perplexity. "And who is Mrs. Richie's
+brother?"
+
+David pointed shyly at the vanishing figure at the end of the waiting-
+room.
+
+"Why, no, dear, that's my father."
+
+"_I_ know," said David; "he's Mr. Pryor, Mrs. Richie's brother. He
+comes and stays at our house."
+
+"Stays at your house? What on earth are you talking about, you funny
+little boy! Where is your house?"
+
+"O' Chester," said David.
+
+The young lady laughed and gave him a kind glance. "You've made a
+mistake, I think. My father doesn't know Mrs. Richie."
+
+David had nothing to say, and she opened her book. When Mr. Pryor
+returned, hurrying to collect the bags and umbrellas, David had turned
+his back and was looking out of the window.
+
+It was not until they were in the train that Alice remembered to speak
+of the incident. "Who in the world is Mrs. Richie?" she demanded
+gayly, "and where is Old Chester?"
+
+The suddenness of it was like a blow. Lloyd Pryor actually gasped; his
+presence of mind so entirely deserted him, that before he knew it, he
+had lied--and no one knew better than Lloyd Pryor that it is a mistake
+to lie hurriedly.
+
+"I--I don't know! Never heard of either of them."
+
+His confusion was so obvious that his daughter gave him a surprised
+look. "But I'm told you stay at Mrs. Richie's house, in Old Chester,"
+she said laughing.
+
+"What are you talking about!"
+
+"Why, father," she said blankly; his irritation was very
+disconcerting.
+
+"I tell you I never heard of such a person!" he repeated sharply; and
+then realized what he had done. "Damn it, what did I lie for?" he said
+to himself, angrily; and he began to try to get out of it: "Old
+Chester? Oh, yes; I do remember. It's somewhere near Mercer, I
+believe. But I never went there in my life." Then he added in his own
+mind, "Confound it, I've done it again! What the devil has happened?
+Who has told her?" Aloud, he asked where she had heard of Old Chester.
+
+She began to tell him about a little boy, who said--"it was too
+funny!" she interrupted herself, smiling--"who said that _you_ were
+'Mrs. Richie's brother,' and you stayed at her house in Old Chester,
+and--"
+
+"Perfect nonsense!" he broke in. "He mistook me for some one else, I
+suppose."
+
+"Oh, of course," she agreed, laughing; upon which Mr. Pryor changed
+the subject by saying that he must look over some papers. "Don't talk
+now, dear," he said.
+
+Alice subsided into her novel; but after a while she put the book
+down. No; the little boy had not mistaken him for somebody else; "he's
+Mr. Pryor," the child had said. But, of course, the rest was all a
+funny mistake. She took the book up again, but as she read, she began
+to frown. Old Chester: Where had she heard of Old Chester? Then she
+remembered. A gentleman who came to call,--King? Yes; that was his
+name; Dr. King. He said he had come from Old Chester. And he had
+spoken of somebody--now, who was it? Oh, yes, Richie; Mrs. Richie. And
+once last spring when her father went to Mercer he said he was going
+to Old Chester; yet now he said he had never heard of the place.--Why!
+it almost seemed as if she had blundered upon a secret! Her uneasy
+smile faded involuntarily into delicate disgust; not because the
+nature of the secret occurred to her, but because secrecy in itself
+was repugnant to her, as it is to all nobler minds. She said to
+herself, quickly, that her father had forgotten Old Chester, that was
+all. Of course, he had forgotten it!--or else--She did not allow
+herself to reach the alternative which his confusion so inevitably
+suggested:--secrecy, protected by a lie. In the recoil from it she was
+plunged into remorse for a suspicion which she had not even
+entertained. Truth was so much to this young creature, that even the
+shadow of an untruth gave her a sense of uneasiness which she could
+not banish. She looked furtively at her father, sorting out some
+papers, his lips compressed, his eyebrows drawn into a heavy frown,
+and assured herself that she was a wicked girl to have wondered, even
+for a minute, whether he was perfectly frank. He! Her ideal of every
+virtue! And besides, why should he not be frank? It was absurd as well
+as wicked to have that uneasy feeling. "I am ashamed of myself!" she
+declared hotly, and took up her novel....
+
+But David had thrown the smooth stone from the brook!
+
+It was a very little stone; the giant did not know for many a day
+where he had been hit; yet it had struck him in the one vulnerable
+point in his armor--his daughter's trust in him. How the wound widened
+does not belong to this story.
+
+When Dr. Lavendar came bustling back with his tickets, David was
+absorbed in thought. He had very little to say on the long day's
+journey over the mountains. When they reached Mercer where they were
+to spend the night, he had nothing whatever to say: his eyes were
+closing with fatigue, and he was asleep almost before his little
+yellow head touched the pillow. In the morning he asked a question:
+
+"Is it a Aunt if you don't know it?" "What?" said Dr. Lavendar,
+winding his clean stock carefully around his neck.
+
+But David relapsed into silence. He asked so few questions that day
+that crutches for lame ducks were referred to only once.
+
+They took the afternoon stage for Old Chester. It was a blue,
+delicious October day, David sat on the front seat between Dr.
+Lavendar and Jonas, and as Jonas told them all that had happened
+during their long absence, the child felt a reviving interest in life.
+Dr. Lavendar's humming broke out into singing; he sang scraps of songs
+and hymns, and teased David about being sleepy. "I believe he's lost
+his tongue, Jonas; he hasn't said boo! since we left Mercer. I suppose
+he won't have a thing to tell Mrs. Richie, not a thing!"
+
+"Well, now, there!" said Jonas, "her George gimme a letter for you,
+and I'll be kicked if I ain't forgot it!" He thrust his left leg out,
+so that his cow-hide boot hung over the dashboard, and fumbled in his
+pocket; then thrust out the right leg and fumbled in another pocket;
+then dived into two or three coat pockets; finally a very crumpled
+note, smelling of the stable, came up from the depths and was handed
+to Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"Slow down these two-forties on a plank road, Jonas, till I get my
+glasses on." said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+After he read the letter he did not sing any more; his face fell into
+deeply puzzled lines. "I must ask Willy what it's all about," he said
+to himself. Certainly the note did not explain itself:
+
+"DEAR DR. LAVENDAR: If it will not inconvenience you, will you let
+David stay at the rectory tonight?--and perhaps for a few days longer.
+I am not sure whether I shall be able to keep him. I may have to give
+him back to you. Will you let him stay with you until I can decide
+what to do?
+
+"HELENA R."
+
+"I wonder if that brother has interfered?" thought Dr. Lavendar.
+"Something has happened; that's evident. Keep him? Well, I guess I
+will!" He looked down at David, his old eyes beaming with pleasure.
+"Mrs. Richie wants you to stay with me tonight; what do you think of
+that?"
+
+"I wanted to see the rabbits," said David; "but I don't mind staying--
+very much."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+
+"Perhaps she feels that it would be better for David to be-in
+different surroundings."
+
+"But Willy! Wednesday night she told me that I must be sure and bring
+him back to her on Saturday. What has happened between Wednesday and
+Saturday?"
+
+"Very likely nothing has happened between Wednesday and Saturday. But
+perhaps she has just made up her mind."
+
+"Ho!" said Dr. Lavendar; and after a while he added, "'Um."
+
+Monday morning he went up to the Stuffed Animal House. But Mrs. Richie
+sent word down-stairs that she wasn't well; would he be so kind as to
+excuse her and to keep David a little longer. Sarah, when she gave the
+message, looked as mystified as Dr. Lavendar felt. "I always thought
+she was just wrapped up in that there boy," she told Maggie; "and yet
+she lets him stay away two days after he gets home!" Dr. Lavendar,
+poking on with Goliath up the hill to Benjamin Wright's, had very much
+the same feeling: "Queer! I wish Willy wasn't bottled up; of course he
+knows what it means. Well; if I wait, she'll explain it herself."
+
+But many days were to pass before Helena made any effort to explain.
+And meantime Dr. Lavendar's mind was full of something else: old
+Benjamin Wright was running down-hill very rapidly.
+
+In certain ways he seemed better; he could talk--and swear--quite
+fluently. "He sayed to me, this mawnin'," Simmons told Dr. Lavendar,
+"'Simmons, you freckled nigger,' he sayed, 'in the name of Lot's wife,
+who salted my porridge?' He spoke out just as plain!" Simmons detailed
+this achievement of the poor dulled tongue, with the pride of a mother
+repeating her baby's first word. Then he simpered with a little vanity
+of his own: "He was always one to notice my freckles," he said.
+
+Benjamin Wright, lying in his bed with his hat on noticed other things
+than Simmons's freckles, and spoke of them, too, quite distinctly. "My
+boy, S-Sam, is a good boy. He comes up every day. Well, Lav-Lavendar,
+sometimes I think I was--at fault?"
+
+"I know you were, Benjamin. Have you told him so?"
+
+"Gad-a-mercy! N-no!" snarled the other. "He would be too puffed up.
+Won't do to make young people v-vain."
+
+He "took notice," too, Simmons said, of the canaries; and he even
+rolled out, stammeringly, some of his favorite verses. But, in spite
+of all this, he was running down-hill; he knew it himself, and once he
+told Dr. Lavendar that this business of dying made a man narrow. "I
+th-think about it all the time," he complained. "Can't put my mind on
+anything else. It's damned narrowing."
+
+Yet William King said to Dr. Lavendar that he thought that if the old
+man could be induced to talk of his grandson, he might rally. "He
+never speaks of him," the doctor said, "but I am sure he is brooding
+over him all the time. Once or twice I have referred to the boy, but
+he pretends not to hear me. He's using up all his strength to bear the
+idea that he is to blame, I wish I could tell him that he isn't," the
+doctor ended, sighing.
+
+They had met in the hall as William was coming down-stairs and Dr.
+Lavendar going up. Simmons, who had been shuffling about with a
+decanter and hospitable suggestions, had disappeared into the dining-
+room.
+
+"Well," said Dr. Lavendar, "why don't you tell him? Though in fact,
+perhaps he is to blame in some way that we don't know? You remember,
+he said he had 'angered the boy'?"
+
+"No; that wasn't it," said William.
+
+Dr. Lavendar looked at him with sudden attention. "Then what--" he
+began, but a lean, freckled shadow in the dining-room doorway, spoke
+up:
+
+"Maybe he might 'a' made Marster Sam's Sam mad, suh, that night; maybe
+he might 'a'. But that weren't no reason," said Simmons, in a
+quivering voice, "for a boy to hit out and give his own grandfather a
+lick. No, suh; it warn't. An' call him a liar!" Dr. Lavendar and
+William King stared at each other and at the old man, in shocked
+dismay. "His grandfather used words, maybe, onc't in a while," Simmons
+mumbled on, "but they didn't mean no mo'n skim-milk. Don't I know?
+He's damned me for forty years, but he'll go to heaven all the same.
+The Lawd wouldn't hold it up agin' him. if a pore nigger wouldn't. If
+He would, I'd as lief go to hell with Mr. Benjamin as any man I know.
+Yes, suh, as I would with you yo'self, Dr. Lavendar. He was cream
+kind; yes, he was! One o' them pore white-trash boys at Morison's
+shanty Town, called me 'Ashcat' onc't; Mr. Wright he cotched him, and
+licked him with his own hands, suh! An' he was as kind to Marster Sam
+as if he was a baby. But Marster Sam hit him a lick. No, suh; it
+weren't right--" Simmons rubbed the cuff of his sleeve over his eyes,
+and the contents of the tilting decanter dribbled down the front of
+his spotted old coat.
+
+"Simmons," said Dr. Lavendar, "what had they been quarrelling about?"
+
+But Simmons said glibly, that 'fore the Lawd, he didn't know.
+
+"He does know," said Dr. Lavendar, as the man again retired to his
+pantry. "But, after all, the subject of the quarrel doesn't make any
+difference. To think that the boy struck him! That must be a
+satisfaction to Benjamin."
+
+"A satisfaction?" William repeated, bewildered.
+
+But Dr. Lavendar did not explain. He went on up-stairs, and sat beside
+the very old man, listening to his muffled talk, and saying what he
+could of commonplace things. Once Benjamin Wright asked about Mrs.
+Richie:
+
+"That female at the S-Stuffed Animal House-how is she? Poor cr-
+creeter; pretty creeter! Tell her--"
+
+"What, Benjamin?"
+
+"Nothing." And then abruptly, "It was my fault. I made him angry. Tell
+her."
+
+He did not refer to her again; nor did he speak of the boy, except at
+the very end. The end came the week that David was staying at the
+Rectory; and perhaps Dr. Lavendar's pitying absorption in that dreary
+dying, made him give less thought to the pleasure as well as the
+perplexity of the child's presence; though certainly, when he got back
+from his daily visit at The Top, he found David a great comfort. Dr.
+Lavendar stopped twice that week to see Mrs. Richie, but each time she
+sent word that she was engaged, would he excuse her? "Engaged," in the
+sense of not wishing to see a neighbor, was a new word in Old Chester.
+Dr. Lavendar did not insist. He went on up the hill to that other
+house, where, also, there was a deep preoccupation which Benjamin
+Wright had called "narrowing"; but here he was not shut out. He always
+stopped to say a friendly word to Simmons, sniffling wretchedly about
+among the cages in the dining-room, and then went on up-stairs.
+
+On this October afternoon the old servant sneaked up at his heels; and
+sliding into the room behind him as noiselessly as a shadow, settled
+down on his hunkers close to the bedside. Once he put up a lean yellow
+hand, and patted the bedclothes; but he made no more claim to
+attention than a dog might have done. Dr. Lavendar found his senior
+warden in the sick-room. Of late Samuel had been there every day; he
+had very little to say to his father, not from any lingering
+bitterness, but because, to poor Samuel, all seemed said--the boy was
+dead. When Dr. Lavendar came in he glanced at the bed, and then, with
+a start, at the heavy middle-aged figure sitting listlessly at the
+bedside. Samuel nodded solemnly.
+
+"A matter of hours, William says. I shall not go home until it's
+over."
+
+"Does he hear you?" said Dr. Lavendar, in a low voice, leaning over to
+look into the gray face.
+
+"Oh, no;" said Samuel.
+
+The dying man opened one eye and looked at his son. "How much you
+know!" he said, then closed it again.
+
+"Are you comfortable, Benjamin?" Dr. Lavendar asked him. There was no
+reply.
+
+Samuel's face reddened. "You can't tell when he hears," he said. It
+was then that Simmons put out his hand and patted the bedclothes over
+the old feet.
+
+They sat there beside him for an hour before Benjamin Wright spoke
+again; then William King came in, and stood looking down at him.
+
+"He'll just sleep away," he told the son.
+
+"I hope he is prepared," said Samuel, and sighed. He turned his back
+on the big bed with the small figure sliding down and down towards the
+foot-board, and looked out of the window. The boy had not been
+prepared!
+
+Suddenly, without opening his eyes, Benjamin Wright began:
+
+  "'Animula vagula blandula,
+  Hospes comesque corporis,
+  Qua nunc abibis in loca?'
+
+"What do you think, Lavendar?"
+
+"It will return to God, who gave it," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+There was another silence; until he wakened to say, brightly,
+"Simmons, you freckled nigger, you'd better wring their necks, now, I
+guess."
+
+"No, suh," came a murmur from the shadow on the floor, "I'm a-goin to
+take care of 'em fine. Yes, suh, I'll chop their eggs small; I sho'ly
+will."
+
+The dying hand began to wander over the coverlet; his son took it, but
+was fretfully repulsed; then Dr. Lavendar made a sign, and Simmons
+laid his thin old hand on it, and Benjamin Wright gave a contented
+sigh. After a while he opened that one eye again, and looked at Dr.
+Lavendar; "Isn't it cus-customary on such occasions, to--admonish?" he
+said, peevishly; "you ain't doing your duty by me, Lavendar."
+
+"You don't need admonition, Benjamin. You know what to do."
+
+Silence again, and after a while a broken murmur: "'I here forget...
+cancel all grudge, repeal thee...'" Then distinctly and quietly he
+said: "Sam, will you forgive me?"
+
+Samuel Wright nodded; he could not speak at first, and Simmons lifting
+his head, looked at him, fiercely; then he swallowed several times,
+and said, with ponderous dignity: "Certainly, father. Certainly." And
+Simmons fell back into the shadows.
+
+"Of course," murmured Benjamin Wright, "if I g-get well, it needn't
+hold, you know."
+
+After that he seemed to sleep a little, until, his eyes still closed,
+he said, "The boy slapped my face. So it's all right."
+
+Samuel started up from his chair at the bedside, shocked and
+protesting.
+
+"Gad-a-mercy!" said Benjamin Wright, fretfully, opening his eye and
+looking at him--"that makes us square! Don't you see?"
+
+There was a long silence. Once Dr. Lavendar spoke to him, and once
+William King touched his wrist, but he seemed to sleep. Then abruptly,
+and quite clearly, he spoke:
+
+"'Crito, I owe a cock to Aesculapius'.... Lavendar?"
+
+"Yes, Benjamin?"
+
+"The debt is paid. Hey? I got the receipt."
+
+"He is wandering," said Samuel. "Father, what do you want?"
+
+But he did not speak again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+
+Helena had asked Dr. Lavendar to keep David, out of abject fear of
+William King. The doctor had granted her until Sunday to give him up
+without explanations; if she had not done so then, he must, he said
+doggedly, "tell." In sending the child to the Rectory she had not
+given him up; she had only declared a truce. She had tied Dr. King's
+hands and gained a breathing-space in which to decide what she must
+do; but she used to watch the hill road every morning, with scared
+eyes, lest he should stop on his way up to Benjamin Wright's to say
+that the truce was over. David came running joyously home two or three
+times, for more clothes, or to see the rabbits, or to hang about her
+neck and tell her of his journey. Upon one of these occasions, he
+mentioned casually that "Alice had gone travelling." Helena's heart
+stood still; then beat suffocatingly in her throat while she drew the
+story piecemeal from the child's lips.
+
+"She said," David babbled, "that he didn't know you. An' she said--"
+
+"And where was he--Mr. Pryor, all this time?" she demanded,
+breathlessly. She opened and shut her hands, and drew in her breath,
+wincing as if in physical pain; across all the days since that meeting
+of the Innocents, she felt his anger flaying her for the contretemps.
+It brought home to her, with an aching sense of finality the
+completeness of the break between them. But it did more than that.
+Even while she cringed with personal dismay, she was groping blindly
+towards a deeper and diviner despair: Those two young creatures were
+the cherubims at the east of the garden, bearing the sword that turned
+every way! By the unsparing light of that flashing blade the two
+sinners, standing outside, saw each other; but the one, at least,
+began to see something else: the glory of the garden upon which,
+thirteen years ago, she had turned her back! ...
+
+Helena did not ask any more questions. David, lounging against her
+knee, chattered on, ending with a candid and uncomplimentary reference
+to Mr. Pryor; but she did not reprove him. When, having, as it were,
+displayed his sling and his bag of pebbles, he was ready to run
+joyously back to the other home, she kissed him silently and with a
+strange new consciousness of the everlasting difference between them.
+But that did not lessen her passionate determination that William King
+should never steal him from her! Yet how could she defeat her enemy?
+
+A week passed, and still undecided, she wrote to Dr. Lavendar asking
+further hospitality for David: "I want to have him with me always, but
+just now I am a little uncertain whether I can do so, because I am
+going to leave Old Chester. I will come and ask you about it in a few
+days."
+
+She took the note out to the stable to George and bade him carry it to
+the Rectory; as she went back to the empty house, she had a glimpse of
+Mr. and Mrs. Smith's jewel-like eyes gleaming redly upon her from the
+gloom of the rabbit-hutch, and a desolate longing for David made her
+hurry indoors. But there the silence, unbroken by the child's voice,
+was unendurable; it seemed to turn the confusion of her thoughts into
+actual noise. So she went out again to pace up and down the little
+brick paths between the box borders of the garden. The morning was
+still and warm; the frost of a sharp night had melted into threads of
+mist that beaded the edges of blackened leaves and glittered on the
+brown stems of withered annuals. Once she stopped to pull up some weed
+that showed itself still green and arrogant, spilling its seeds from
+yellowing pods among the frosted flowers; and once she picked, and put
+into the bosom of her dress, a little belated monthly rose, warm and
+pink at the heart, but with blighted outer petals. She found it
+impossible to pursue any one line of thought to its logical outcome;
+her mind flew like a shuttlecock between a dozen plans for William
+King's defeat. "Oh, I must decide on something!" she thought,
+desperately. But the futile morning passed without decision. After
+dinner she went resolutely into the parlor, and sitting down on her
+little low chair, pressed her fingers over her eyes to shut out any
+possible distractions. "Now," she said, "I will make up my mind."
+
+A bluebottle fly buzzing up and down the window dropped on the sill,
+then began to buzz again. Through the Venetian blinds the sunshine
+fell in bars across the carpet; she opened her eyes and watched its
+silent movement,--so intangible, so irresistible; the nearest line
+touched her foot; her skirt; climbed to her listless hands; out in the
+hall the clock slowly struck three; her thoughts blurred and ran
+together; her very fears seemed to sink into space and time and
+silence. The sunshine passed over her lap, resting warm upon her
+bosom; up and up, until, suddenly, like a hot finger, it touched her
+face. That roused her; she got up, sighing, and rubbing her eyes as if
+she had been asleep. No decision! ...
+
+Suppose she should go down into the orchard? Away from the house, she
+might be better able to put her mind on it. She knew a spot where,
+hidden from curious eyes, she could lie at full length in the grass,
+warm on a western slope. David might have found her, but no one else
+would think of looking for her there.... When she sank down on the
+ground and clasped her hands under her head, her eyes were level with
+the late-blossoming grass that stirred a little in an unfelt breath of
+air; two frosted stalks of goldenrod, nodded and swung back and nodded
+again, between her and the sky. With absent intentness, she watched an
+ant creeping carefully to the top of a head of timothy, then jolting
+off at some jar she could not feel. The sun poured full upon her face;
+there was not a cloud anywhere in the unfathomable blue stillness.
+Thought seemed to drown in seas of light, and personality dwindled
+until her pain and fright did not seem to belong to her. She had to
+close her eyes to shut herself into her own dark consciousness:
+
+How should she keep her child?
+
+The simplicity of immediate flight she had, of course, long ago
+abandoned; it would only postpone the struggle with William King. That
+inflexible face of duty would hunt her down wherever she was, and take
+the child from her. No; there was but one thing to do: parry his
+threat of confessing to Dr. Lavendar that he had "made a mistake" in
+advising that David should be given to her, by a confession of her
+own, a confession which should admit the doctor's change of mind
+without mentioning its cause, and at the same time hold such promises
+for the future that the old minister would say that she might have
+David. Then she could turn upon her enemy with the triumphant
+declaration that she had forestalled him; that she had said exactly
+what he had threatened to say,--no more, no less. And yet the child
+was hers! But as she tried to plan how she should put it, the idea
+eluded her. She would tell Dr. Lavendar thus and so: but even as she
+marshalled her words, that scene in the waiting-room of the railroad
+station ached in her imagination. Alice's ignorance of her existence
+became an insult; what she was going to say to Dr. Lavendar turned
+into a denunciation of Lloyd Pryor; he was vile, and cruel, and
+contemptible! But these words stumbled, too. Back in her mind, common
+sense agreed to Lloyd's silence to his daughter; and, suddenly, to her
+amazement, she knew that she agreed, not only to the silence, but to
+his objection to marrying her. It would be an offence for her to live
+with Alice! Marriage, which would have quitted this new tormenting
+sense of responsibility and made her like other people, would not have
+lessened that offence. It came over her with still more acute
+surprise, that she had never felt this before. It was as if that fire
+of shame which had consumed her vanity the night she had confessed to
+William King, had brought illumination as well as burning. By its
+glare she saw that such a secret as she and Lloyd held between them
+would be intolerable in the presence of that young girl. Lloyd had
+felt it--here she tingled all over:--Lloyd was more sensitive than
+she! Ah, well; Alice was his own daughter, and he knew how almost
+fanatical she was about truth; so he was especially sensitive. But Dr.
+King? He had felt it about David: "whether you married this man or not
+would make no difference about David." She thought about this for
+awhile in heavy perplexity.
+
+Then with a start she came back again to what she must say to Dr.
+Lavendar: "I will promise to bring David up just as he wishes; and I
+will tell him about my money; he doesn't know how rich I am; he will
+feel that he has no right to rob David of such a chance. And I will
+say that nobody could love him as I can." Love him! Had she not given
+up everything for him, sacrificed everything to keep him? For his sake
+she had not married! In this rush of self-approval she sat up, and
+looked blindly off over the orchard below her at the distant hills,
+blue and slumberous in the sunshine. Then she leaned her head in her
+hands and stared fixedly at a clump of clover, green still in the
+yellowing stubble.... She had chosen her child instead of a convention
+which, less than a month ago, she had so passionately desired; a month
+ago it seemed to her that, once married, she could do no more harm,
+have no more shame. Yet she had given all this up for David! ...
+Suddenly she spurred her mind back to that talk with Dr. Lavendar: she
+would promise--anything! And planning her promises, she sat there,
+gazing with intent, unseeing eyes at the clover, until the chilly
+twilight drove her into the house.
+
+It was not until Saturday that she dared to go to the Rectory. It was
+early in the afternoon, just as the Collect Class was gathering in the
+dining-room. She had forgotten it, she told Mary, as she closed her
+umbrella on the door-step. "Can I wait in the study?" she asked,
+uncertainly;--there was time to go back! The task of telling part of
+the truth to this mild old man, whose eye was like a sword, suddenly
+daunted her. She would wait a few days.--she began to open her
+umbrella, her fingers blundering with haste,--but retreat was cut off:
+Dr. Lavendar, on his way to the dining-room, with Danny at his heels,
+saw her; she could not escape!
+
+"Why, Mrs. Richie!" he said, smiling at her over his spectacles. "Hi,
+David, who do you suppose is here? Mrs. Richie!"
+
+David came running out of the dining-room; "Did you bring my slag?" he
+demanded.
+
+And she had to confess that she had not thought of it; "You didn't
+tell me you wanted it, dear," she defended herself, nervously.
+
+"Oh, well," said David, "I'm coming home to-morrow, and I'll get it."
+
+"Would you like to come home?" she could not help saying.
+
+"I'd just as lieves," said David.
+
+"Run back," Dr. Lavendar commanded, "and tell the children I'm coming
+in a minute. Tell Theophilus Bell not to play Indian under the table.
+Now, Mrs. Richie, what shall we do? Do you mind coming in and hearing
+them say their Collect? Or would you rather wait in the study? We
+shall be through in three-quarters of an hour. David shall bring you
+some jumbles and apples. I suppose you are going to carry him off?"
+Dr. Lavendar said, ruefully.
+
+"Oh," she faltered in a sudden panic, "I will come some other time,"
+but somehow or other, before she knew it, she was in the dining-room;
+very likely it was because she would not loosen the clasp of David's
+little warm careless hand, and so her reluctant feet followed him in
+his hurry to admonish Theophilus. When she entered, instant silence
+fell upon the children. Lydia Wright, stumbling through the catechism
+to Ellen Dale [Illustration: "Dr. Lavendar," said Helena, "in regard
+to David."] who held the prayer-book and prompted, let her voice trail
+off and her mouth remain open at the sight of a visitor; Theophilus
+Bell rubbed his sleeve over some chalk-marks on the blackboard;--"I am
+drawing a woman with an umbrella," he had announced, condescendingly;
+"I saw her coming up the path,"--but when he saw her sitting down by
+Dr. Lavendar, Theophilus skulked to his seat, and read his Collect
+ever with unheeding attention.
+
+Then the business of the afternoon began, and Helena sat and listened
+to it. It was a scene which had repeated itself for two generations in
+Old Chester; the fathers and mothers of these little people had sat on
+these same narrow benches without backs, and looked at the blackboard
+where Dr. Lavendar wrote out the divisions of the Collect, and then
+looked at the sideboard, where stood a dish of apples and another of
+jumbles. They, too, had said their catechism, announcing, in singsong
+chorus that they heartily thanked their Heavenly Father that He had
+called them to this state of salvation; and Dr. Lavendar had asked one
+or another of them, as he now asked their children, "What meanest thou
+by this word Sacrament?" "What is the inward and spiritual grace?"
+That afternoon, when he swooped down on David, Helen squeezed her
+hands together with anxiety; did he know what was the inward and
+spiritual grace? Could he say it? She held her breath until he had
+sailed triumphantly through:
+
+_"A death unto sin, and a new birth unto righteousness,"_ and so
+on. When he had finished, she looked proudly at Dr. Lavendar, who, to
+her astonishment, did not bestow a single word of praise!
+
+"And yet," said Helena to herself, "he said it better than any of
+them, and he is the youngest!--David said it very well, didn't he?"
+she ventured, in a whisper.
+
+Dr. Lavendar made no answer, but opened a book; on which there was a
+cheerful shuffling as the children jostled each other in their efforts
+to kneel down in the space between the benches; when all was still,
+Dr. Lavendar repeated the Collect. Helena dropped her face in her
+hands, and listened:
+
+_"Grant, we beseech Thee, merciful Lord, to Thy faithful people
+pardon and peace, that they may be cleansed from all their sins, and
+serve Thee with a quiet mind; through Jesus Christ our Lord."_
+
+_"Amen!"_ said the children, joyfully; and, scrambling to their
+feet, looked politely at the sideboard. David, who played host on
+these occasions, made haste to poke the apples at Mrs. Richie, who
+could not help whispering to him to pull his collar straight; and she
+even pushed his hair back a little from his forehead. The sense of
+possession came over her like a wave, and with it a pang of terror
+that made her lips dry; at that moment she knew the taste of fear in
+her mouth. When Dr. Lavendar spoke to her, she was unable to reply.
+
+"Well, now, Mrs. Richie," he said, "I expect these little people can
+eat their apples without us; can't you, chickabiddies?"
+
+"Yes, sir!" said the children, in eager chorus, eying the apples.
+
+"You and I will go into the study for a while," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+She followed him speechlessly...the time had come.
+
+Dr. Lavendar, hospitable and fussy, drew up a horsehair-covered chair
+with ears on each side of the back, and bade her sit down; then he
+poked the fire, and put on a big lump of coal, and asked her if she
+was sure she was warm enough? "It's pretty chilly; we didn't have
+weather as cold as this in October when I was your age."
+
+"Dr. Lavendar," said Helena;--and at the tremor in her voice he looked
+at her quickly, and then looked away;--"in regard to David--"
+
+"Yes; I understand that you are not sure that you want to keep him?"
+
+"Oh, no! I am sure. Entirely sure!" She paused, uncertain what to say
+next. Dr. Lavendar gave her no assistance. Her breath caught in an
+unsteady laugh. "You are not smoking, Dr. Lavendar! Do light your
+pipe. I am quite used to tobacco smoke, I assure you."
+
+"No," said Dr. Lavendar, quietly; "I will not smoke now."
+
+"In regard to David," she began; and gripped her hands tight together,
+for she saw with dismay that they were shaking. She had an instant of
+angry surprise at her own body. It was betraying her to the silent,
+watching old man on the other side of the fire. "I want him; but I
+mean to leave Old Chester. Would you be willing to let me take him
+away?"
+
+"Why," said Dr. Lavendar, "we shall be very sorry to have you leave
+us; and, of course, I shall be sorry to lose David. Very sorry! I
+shall feel," said Dr. Lavendar, with a rueful chuckle, "as if I had
+lost a tooth! That is about as omnipresent sense of loss as a human
+critter can have. But I can't see that that is any reason for not
+letting you take him."
+
+"You are very kind," she murmured.
+
+"Where are you going, and when do you go?" he asked, easily; but he
+glanced at those shaking hands.
+
+"I want to go next week. I--oh, Dr. Lavendar! I want David; I am sure
+nobody can do more for him than I can. Nobody can love him as I do!
+And I think he would be pretty homesick for me, too, if I did not take
+him. But--"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+She tried to smile; then spread her handkerchief on her knee, and
+folded it over and over with elaborate self-control. "Dr. King
+thinks--I ought not to have him. He says," she stopped; the effort to
+repeat William King's exact words drove the color out of her face. "He
+says he made a mistake in advising you to give David to me. He
+thinks--"
+
+she caught her breath with a gasp;--"I am not to be trusted to--to
+bring him up." She trembled with relief; the worst was over. She had
+kept her promise, to the letter. Now she would begin to fight for her
+child: "You will let me have him? You will!--Please say you will, Dr.
+Lavendar!"
+
+"Why does Dr. King think you are not to be trusted?" said Dr.
+Lavendar.
+
+"Because," she said, gathering up all her courage, "he thinks that I--
+that David ought to be brought up by some one more--more religious, I
+suppose, than I am. I know I'm not very religious. Not as good as
+everybody in Old Chester; but I will bring him up just as you want me
+to! Any way at all you want me to. I will go to church regularly;
+truly I will, Dr. Lavendar; truly!"
+
+Dr. Lavendar was silent. The lump of coal in the grate suddenly split
+and fell apart; there was a crackling leap of flames, and from between
+the bars a spurt of bubbling gas sent a whiff of acrid smoke puffing
+out into the room.
+
+"You will let me have him, won't you? You said you would! If you take
+him away from me--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+She looked at him dumbly; her chin shook.
+
+"The care of a child is sometimes a great burden; have you considered
+that?"
+
+"Nothing would be a burden if I did it for David!"
+
+"It might involve much sacrifice."
+
+"I have sacrificed everything for him!" she burst out.
+
+"What?"
+
+"There was something," she said evasively, "that I wanted to do very
+much; something that would have made me--happier. But I couldn't if I
+kept David; so I gave it up."
+
+Dr. Lavendar ruminated. "You wanted David the most?"
+
+"Yes?" she said passionately.
+
+"Then it was a choice, not a sacrifice, wasn't it, my dear? No doubt
+you would make sacrifices for him, only in this matter you chose what
+you wanted most, And your choice was for your own happiness I take
+it,--not his?"
+
+She nodded doubtfully, baffled for a minute, and not quite
+understanding. Then she said, "But I would choose his happiness; I
+have done some things for him, truly I have. Oh, little things, I
+suppose you would call them; but I wasn't used to them and they seemed
+great to me. But I would choose his happiness, Dr, Lavendar. So you
+will let me keep him?"
+
+"If you think you ought to have him, you may."
+
+"No matter what Dr. King says?"
+
+"No matter what Dr, King says. If you are sure that it is best for him
+to be with you, I, at least, shall not interfere."
+
+Her relief was so great that the tears ran down her face. "It is
+best!"
+
+"Best to be with you," Dr, Lavendar repeated thoughtfully; "Why, Mrs.
+Richie?"
+
+"Why? Why because I want him so much, I have nothing in the whole
+world, Dr. Lavendar, but David. Nothing."
+
+"Other folks might want him."
+
+"But nobody can do as much for him as I can! I have a good deal of
+money."
+
+"You mean you can feed him, and clothe him, and educate him? Well; I
+could do that myself. What else can you do?"
+
+"What else?"
+
+"Yes. One person can give him material care about as well as another.
+What else can you do?"
+
+"Why--" she began, helplessly; "I don't think I know just what you
+mean?"
+
+"My friend," said Dr. Lavendar, "are you a good woman?"
+
+The shock of the question left her speechless. She tried to meet his
+eye; quailed, half rose: "I don't know what you mean! What right have
+you to ask me such a question--"
+
+Dr, Lavendar waited.
+
+"Perhaps I don't think about things, quite as you do. I am not
+religious; I told you that. I don't do things because of religion; I
+believe in--in reason, not in religion. I try to be good in--my way. I
+don't know that I've been what you would call 'good.'"
+
+"What do I call 'good'?"
+
+At which she burst out that people in Old Chester thought that people
+who did not live according to convention were not good. For her part,
+convention was the last thing she thought of. Indeed, she believed
+there was more wickedness in convention than out of it! "If I have
+done anything you would call wrong, it was because I couldn't help it;
+I never wanted to do wrong. I just wanted to be happy. I've tried to
+be charitable. And I've tried to be good--in my way; but not because I
+wanted to go to heaven, and all that. I--I don't believe in heaven,"
+she ended with terrified flippancy.
+
+"Perhaps not," said Dr. Lavendar sadly; "but, oh, my child, how you do
+believe in hell!"
+
+She stared at him for one broken moment; then flung her arms out on
+the table beside her, and dropped her head upon them. Dr. Lavendar did
+not speak, There was a long silence, suddenly she turned upon him, her
+face quivering; "Yes! I do believe in hell. Because that is what life
+is! I've never had any happiness at all. Oh, it seemed so little a
+thing to ask--just to be happy Yes, I believe in hell."
+
+Dr. Lavendar waited.
+
+"If I've done what people say isn't right, it was only because I
+wanted to be happy; not because I wanted to do wrong. It was because
+of Love. You can't understand what that means! But Christ said that
+because a woman loved much, much was to be forgiven! Do you remember
+that?" she demanded hotly.
+
+"Yes," said Dr, Lavendar; "but do you remember Who it was that she
+loved much? She loved Goodness, Mrs. Richie. Have you loved Goodness?"
+
+"Oh, what is the use of talking about it?" she said passionately; "we
+won't agree. If it was all to do over again, perhaps I--But life was
+so dreadful! If you judge me, remember--"
+
+"I do not judge you."
+
+"--remember that everything has been against me. Everything! From the
+very beginning, I never had anything I wanted, I thought I was going
+to be happy, but each time I wasn't. Until I had David. And now you
+will take him. Oh, what a miserable failure life has been! I wish I
+could die. But it seems you can't even die when you want to!"
+
+For a moment she covered her face with her hands. Then she said: "I
+suppose I might as well tell you. Mr. Pryor is not--.... After my baby
+died, I left my husband. Lloyd loved me, and I went to live with him."
+
+"You went to live with your brother?" Dr. Lavendar repeated perplexed.
+
+"He is not my brother."
+
+There was silence for a full minute. Then Dr. Lavendar said quietly,
+"Go on."
+
+She looked at him with hunted eyes. "Now, you will take David away.
+Why did you make me tell you?"
+
+"It is better to tell me." He laid his old hand on hers, clenched upon
+the table at her side. The room was very still; once a coal fell from
+the grate, and once there was the soft brush of rain against the
+window,
+
+"It's my whole life. I can't tell you my whole life, I didn't even
+want to be wicked; all I wanted was to be happy, And so I went to
+Lloyd. It didn't seem so very wrong. We didn't hurt anybody. His wife
+was dead.--As for Frederick, I have no regrets!" she ended fiercely.
+
+The room had darkened in the rainy October twilight, and the fire was
+low; Dr. Lavendar could hardly see her quivering face.
+
+"But now it's all over between Lloyd and me. I sha'n't see him ever
+any more. He would have married me, if I had been willing to give up
+David. But I was not willing."
+
+"You thought it would make everything right if you married this man?"
+
+"Right?" she repeated, surprised; "why, of course. At least I suppose
+that is what good people call right," she added dully.
+
+"And you gave up doing right, to have David?"
+
+She felt that she was trapped, and yet she could not understand why;
+"I sacrificed myself," she said confusedly.
+
+ "No," said Dr. Lavendar; "you sacrificed a conviction. A poor, false
+conviction, but such as it was, you threw it over to keep David."
+
+She looked at him in terror; "It was just selfishness, you think?"
+
+"Yes," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"Perhaps it was," she admitted. "Oh, how frightful life is! To try to
+be happy, is to be bad."
+
+"No, to try to be happy at the expense of other people, is to be bad."
+
+"But I never did that! Lloyd's wife was dead;--Of course, if she had
+been alive"--Helena lifted her head with the curious pride of caste in
+sin which is so strongly felt by the woman who is a sinner;--"if she
+had been alive, I wouldn't have thought of such a thing. But nobody
+knew, so I never did any harm,"--then she quailed; "at least, I never
+meant to do any harm. So you can't say it was at anybody's expense."
+
+"It was at everybody's expense. Marriage is what makes us civilized.
+If anybody injures marriage we all pay."
+
+She was silent.
+
+"If every dissatisfied wife should do what you did, could decent life
+go on? Wouldn't we all drop down a little nearer the animals?"
+
+"Perhaps so," she said vaguely. But she was not following him. She had
+entered into this experience of sin, not by the door of reason, but of
+emotion; she could leave it only by the same door. The high appeal to
+individual renunciation for the good of the many, was entirely beyond
+her. Dr. Lavendar did not press it any further.
+
+"Well, anyhow," she said dully, "I didn't get any happiness--whether
+it was at other people's expense or not. When David came, I thought,
+'now I am going to be happy!' That was all I wanted: happiness. And
+now you will take him away."
+
+"I have not said I would take him away."
+
+She trembled so at that, that for an instant she could not speak. "Not
+take him?"
+
+"Not if you think it is best for him to stay with you."
+
+She began to pant with fear, "You mean something by that, I know you
+do I Oh, what do you mean? I cannot do him any harm!"
+
+"Woman," said Dr. Lavendar solemnly, "_can you do him any good_?"
+
+She cowered silently away from him.
+
+"Can you teach him to tell the truth, you, who have lived a lie? Can
+you make him brave, you, who could not endure? Can you make him
+honorable, you, who have deceived us all? Can you make him unselfish,
+you, who have thought only of self? Can you teach him purity, you,
+who--"
+
+"Stop! I cannot bear it."
+
+"Tell me the truth: can you do him any good?"
+
+That last solemn word fell into profound silence. There was not a
+sound in the still darkness of the study; and suddenly her soul was
+still, too ... the whirlwind of anger had died out; the shock of
+responsibility had subsided; the hiss of those flames of shame had
+ceased. She was in the centre of all the tumults, where lies the quiet
+mind of God. For a long time she did not speak. Then, by and by, her
+face hidden in her arms on the table, she said, in a whisper:
+
+"No."
+
+_And after the fire, the still small Voice._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+
+Dr. Lavendar looked at the bowed head; but he offered no comfort.
+When she said brokenly, "No; I can't have him. I can't have him," he
+assented; and there was silence again. It was broken by a small,
+cheerful voice:
+
+"Mary says supper's ready. There's milk toast, an'--"
+
+Dr. Lavendar went as quickly as he could to the door; when he opened
+it he stood between the little boy and Helena. "Tell Mary not to wait
+for me; but ask her to give you your supper."
+
+"An' Mary says that in Ireland they call clover 'shamrocks'; an'--"
+
+Dr. Lavendar gently closed the door. When he went back to his seat on
+the other side of the table, she said faintly, "That was--?"
+
+"Yes," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"Oh," she whispered. "I knew I would have to give him up. I knew I had
+no right to him."
+
+"No; you had no right to him."
+
+"But I loved him so! Oh, I thought, maybe, I would be--like other
+people, if I had him."
+
+After a while, with long pauses between the sentences, she began to
+tell him. ...
+
+"I never thought about goodness; or badness either. Only about Lloyd,
+and happiness. I thought I had a right to happiness. But I was angry
+at all the complacent married people; they were so satisfied with
+themselves! And yet all the time I wished Frederick would die so that
+I could be married. Oh, the time was _so_ long!" She threw her arms up
+with a gesture of shuddering weariness; then clasped her hands between
+her knees, and staring at the floor, began to speak. Her words poured
+out, incoherent, contradictory, full of bewilderment and pain. "Yes; I
+wasn't very happy, except just at first. After a while I got so tired
+of Lloyd's selfishness. Oh--he was so selfish! I used to look at him
+sometimes, and almost hate him. He always took the most comfortable
+chair, and he cared so much about things to eat. And he got fat. And
+he didn't mind Frederick's living. I could see that. And I prayed that
+Frederick would die.--I suppose you think it was wicked to pray that?"
+
+"Go on."
+
+"It was only because I loved Lloyd so much. But he didn't die. And I
+began not to be happy. And then I thought Lloyd didn't want to talk to
+me about Alice. Alice is his daughter. It was three years ago I first
+noticed that. But I wasn't really sure until this summer. He didn't
+even like to show me her picture. That nearly killed me, Dr. Lavendar.
+And once, just lately, he told me her 'greatest charm was her
+innocence.' Oh, it was cruel in him to say that! How could he be so
+cruel!" she looked at him for sympathy; but he was silent. "But
+underneath, somehow, I understood; and that made me angry,--to
+understand. It was this summer that I began to be angry. And then I
+got so jealous: not of Alice, exactly; but of what she stood for. It
+was a kind of fright, because I couldn't go back and begin again. Do
+you know what I mean?"
+
+"I know."
+
+"Oh, Dr. Lavendar, it is so horrible! When I began to understand, it
+seemed like something broken--broken--broken! It could never be
+mended."
+
+"No."
+
+...Sometimes, as she went on he asked a question, and sometimes made a
+comment. The comment was always the same: when she spoke of marrying
+Frederick to get away from her bleak life with her grandmother, she
+said, "Oh, it was a mistake, a mistake!"
+
+And he said, "It was a sin."
+
+And again: "I thought Lloyd would make me happy; I just went to be
+happy; that was my second mistake."
+
+"It was your second sin."
+
+"You think I am a sinner," she said; "oh, Dr. Lavendar, I am not as
+bad as you think! I always expected to marry Lloyd. I am not like a--
+fallen woman."
+
+"Why not?" said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+She shrank back with a gesture of dismay. "I always expected to marry
+him!"
+
+"It would have been just the same if you had married him."
+
+"I don't understand you," she said faintly.
+
+"From the beginning," he said, "you have thought only of self. You
+would not have been redeemed from self by gaining what would have made
+you more satisfied with yourself."
+
+She thought about this for a few minutes in a heavy silence. "You
+mean, getting married would not have changed things, really?"
+
+"It would have made the life you were living less harmful to your
+fellow creatures, perhaps; but it would have made no difference
+between you two."
+
+"I thought I would be happier," she said.
+
+"Happier!" said Dr. Lavendar; "what sort of happiness could there be
+in a marriage where the man could never respect the woman, and the
+woman could never trust the man!"
+
+"I hadn't thought of it that way," she said slowly. And then she began
+again. ... Once Dr. Lavendar interrupted her to light the lamp, for
+the study was dark except for the wink of red coals in the grate; and
+once he checked her, and went into the dining-room to bring her a
+glass of wine and some food. She protested, but he had his way, and
+she ate and drank before going on with her story. When she told him,
+brokenly, of Sam Wright, Dr. Lavendar got up and walked the length of
+the study. But he made no comment--none was needed. When she ended,
+there was a long pause. Suddenly she clasped her hands on the top of
+her head, and bowed her forehead almost to her knees. She seemed to
+speak as if to herself:
+
+"Not worthy; not worthy."... Then aloud; _"I give him up,"_ she
+said. And stretched out empty arms.
+
+She rose, and began to feel about for her cloak that had fallen across
+the arm of her chair. But she was half blind with weeping, and Dr.
+Lavendar found it for her and gently put it over her shoulders.
+
+"I will go away," she said, "but I may see him again, mayn't I? Just
+once more, to say good-by to him."
+
+"Yes," he said.
+
+"I'll send his little things down to you to-morrow, Dr. Lavendar.
+Oh,--his dear little things!"
+
+"Very well."
+
+He lighted a lantern for her, but made no offer to see her home, or to
+send his Mary along as an escort. Yet when he let her go away into the
+rainy darkness, he stood in the doorway a long while, looking after
+her. Then he went back to the study, to pace up and down, up and down.
+Twice he stopped and looked out of the window, and then at the clock.
+But each time he put the impulse aside. He must not interfere.
+
+It was almost midnight before he took his lamp and went up-stairs; at
+David's door he hesitated, and then went in. The little boy was lying
+curled up like a puppy, his face almost hidden in his pillow, but his
+cheek glowing red under the soft thatch of hair. Dr. Lavendar, shading
+his lamp with one hand, looked down at him a long time. On the wall
+behind him and half-way across the ceiling, the old man's shadow
+loomed wavering and gigantic, and the light, flickering up on his
+face, deepened the lines of age and of other people's troubles. By and
+by he stooped down, and gently laid his old palm upon the little head.
+
+When he lifted himself up his face was full of peace.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+
+"William," said Dr. Lavendar, "you may tell me anything I ought to
+know about Mrs. Richie."
+
+The doctor looked at him with a start, and a half-spoken question.
+
+"Yes; she told me. But I want to ask you about the man. She didn't say
+much about him."
+
+This was Sunday evening; David had gone to bed, and Danny had climbed
+up into Dr. Lavendar's chair, and been gently deposited on the hearth-
+rug. "No, Daniel; not to-night, sir. I've got to have my chair just
+this once." William had come in for his usual smoke, but he had been
+more than usually silent. When Dr. Lavendar gave his calm permission,
+the doctor's wretched perplexity of the past month could hardly find
+words. He said, first of all,
+
+"David? Of course you will take him away. It will break her heart!"
+
+"A broken heart is not such a bad thing, Willy. Our Heavenly Father
+does not despise it."
+
+"Dr. Lavendar, why can't she keep him? She'll never see that scoundrel
+again!"
+
+"Do you think a woman with such a story is fit to bring up a child,
+William?"
+
+The doctor was silent.
+
+"She thinks not, herself," said Dr. Lavendar.
+
+"Does she?" William King said; and a minute afterwards fumbled in his
+coat tails for his pocket-handkerchief. "What is she going to do?" he
+asked huskily.
+
+"She feels that she had better leave Old Chester."
+
+"Do you think so, sir?"
+
+Dr. Lavendar sighed. "I would like to have her here; I would like to
+take care of her, for a while. But I don't think she could stand it;
+on your account."
+
+"My account!" William King pushed his chair back, and got on his feet;
+"Dr. Lavendar, I--I--"
+
+"She would feel the embarrassment of your knowledge," said the old
+man.
+
+Dr. King sat down. Then he said, "I am the last man to judge her."
+
+"'Beginning at the eldest, even unto the last,'" murmured Dr.
+Lavendar. "Shame is a curious thing, William. It's like some of your
+medicines. The right amount cures. Too much kills. I've seen that with
+hard drinkers. Where a drunkard is a poor, uneducated fellow, shame
+gives him a good boost towards decency. But a man of education,
+William, a man of opportunity--if he wakes up to what he has been
+doing, shame gives him such a shove he is apt to go all round the
+circle, and come up just where he started! Shame is a blessed thing,--
+when you don't get too much of it. She would get too much of it here.
+But--" he stopped and smiled; "sin has done its divine work, I think."
+
+"Sin?"
+
+"Yes," said Dr. Lavendar, cheerfully; "have you ever noticed that
+every single human experience--except, perhaps, the stagnation of
+conceit; I haven't found anything hopeful in that yet; but maybe I
+shall some day!--but, except for conceit, I have never known any human
+experience of pain or sin that could not be the gate of heaven. Mind!
+I don't say that it always is; but it can be. Has that ever occurred
+to you?"
+
+"Well, no," the doctor confessed; "I can't say that it has."
+
+"Oh, you're young yet," Dr, Lavendar said encouragingly, "My boy, let
+me tell you that there are some good folks who don't begin to know
+their Heavenly Father, as the sinner does who climbed up to Him out of
+the gutter."
+
+"A dangerous doctrine," William ruminated.
+
+"Oh, I don't preach it," Dr. Lavendar said placidly "but I don't
+preach everything I know."
+
+William was not following him. He said abruptly, "What are you going
+to do with David?"
+
+"David is going to stay with me."
+
+And William said again, "It will break her heart!"
+
+"I hope so," said Dr. Lavendar solemnly, How he watched that poor
+heart, in the next few days! Every afternoon his shabby old buggy went
+tugging up the hill. Sometimes he found her walking restlessly about
+in the frosted garden; sometimes standing mutely at the long window in
+the parlor, looking for him; sometimes prostrate on her bed. When he
+took her hand--listless one day, fiercely despairing the next,--he
+would glance at her with a swift scrutiny that questioned, and then
+waited. The pity in his old eyes never dimmed their relentless
+keenness; they seemed to raid her face, sounding all the shallows in
+search of depths. For with his exultant faith in human nature, he
+believed that somewhere in the depths he should find God, It is only
+the pure in heart who can find Him in impurity, who can see, behind
+the murky veil of stained flesh, the very face of Christ declaring the
+possibilities of the flesh!--but this old man sought and knew that he
+should find Him. He waited and watched for many days, looking for that
+recognition of wrong-doing which breaks the heart by its revelation of
+goodness that might have been; for there is no true knowledge of sin,
+without a divine and redeeming knowledge of righteousness! So, as this
+old saint looked into the breaking heart, pity for the sinner who was
+base deepened into reverence for the child of God who might be noble.
+It is an easy matter to believe in the confident soul; but Dr.
+Lavendar believed in a soul that did not believe in itself!
+
+It seemed to Helena that she had nothing to live for; that there was
+nothing to do except shiver back out of sight, and wait to die. For
+the time was not yet when she should know that her consciousness of
+sin might be the chased and fretted Cup from which she might drink the
+sacrament of life; when she should come to understand, with
+thanksgiving, that unless she had sinned, the holy wine might never
+have touched her lips!
+
+In these almost daily talks with Dr. Lavendar, the question of the
+future was beaten out: it was a bleak enough prospect; it didn't
+matter, she said, where she went, or what became of her, she had
+spoiled her life, she said. "Yes," Dr. Lavendar agreed, "you've
+spoiled what you've had of it. But your Heavenly Father has the rest,
+in His hands, and He'll give it to you clean and sound. All you've got
+to do, is to keep it so, and forget the spoiled part." That was the
+only thing he insisted upon: no dwelling on the past!
+
+"I wish I was one of the people who want to do things," she told him
+with a sort of wistful cynicism. "But I don't. I have no story-book
+desires. I don't want to go and nurse lepers!--but I will, if you want
+me to," she added with quick and touching simplicity.
+
+ Dr Lavendar smiled, and said that nursing lepers was too easy. He had
+suggested that she should live in a distant city;--he had agreed at
+once to her assertion that she could not stay in Old Chester. "I know
+some nice people there," he said; "Ellen Bailey lives there, she's
+Ellen Spangler now. You've heard me speak of her? Spangler is a
+parson; he's a good fellow, but the Lord denied him brains to any
+great extent. But Ellen is the salt of the earth. And she can laugh.
+You'll like her."
+
+"But what will I do when I get there?"
+
+"I think Ellen may find something to keep you busy," he said
+cheerfully; "and, meantime, I'll make a suggestion myself: study
+Hebrew."
+
+"Hebrew!"
+
+"Or Arabic; or Russian; it doesn't matter which, your mind needs
+exercise."
+
+"When you said Hebrew, I thought you meant so I could read the Bible."
+
+"Ho!" said Dr. Lavendar, "I think King James's version is good enough
+for you; or anybody else. And I wouldn't want you to wait until you
+can read backwards, to read your Bible. No; I only meant that you need
+something to break your mind on. Hebrew is as good as anything else."
+
+She meditated on this for a while, "I begin to understand," she said
+with her hesitating smile; and Dr. Lavendar was mightily pleased, for
+he had not seen that smile of late.
+
+Sometimes they talked about David, Mrs. Richie asking questions in a
+smothered voice; but she never begged for him. That part of her life
+was over. Dr. Lavendar sometimes brought the child with him when he
+and Goliath climbed the hill for that daily visit: but he always took
+him back again. Indeed, the Rectory was now definitely the little
+boy's home. Of course Old Chester knew that the Stuffed Animal House
+was to lose its tenant, and that David had gone to live with Dr.
+Lavendar. "I wonder why she doesn't take him with her?" said Old
+Chester; and called to say good-by and hint that Mrs. Richie must be
+sorry to leave the little boy behind her? Helena said briefly, yes,
+she was "sorry." And Old Chester went away no wiser than it came.
+William King, wise and miserable, did not call. His wife said that she
+would say good-by for him, if he was too busy to go up the hill.
+
+"It seems to me you've been very busy lately," she told him; "I've
+hardly had a glimpse of you. I only hope it will show on your bills.
+It is very foolish, William, to take patients so far back in the
+country; I don't believe it pays, considering how much time it takes.
+But I'll tell Mrs. Richie you send your respects, and say good-by for
+you."
+
+"You needn't mind," said the doctor.
+
+Mrs. King went to make her adieux the very next day. Her manner was so
+cordial that Helena was faintly surprised; but, as Martha told Dr.
+Lavendar, cordiality did not mean the sacrifice of truth to any false
+idea of politeness.
+
+"I didn't tell her I was sorry she was going," Martha said, standing
+by the roadside in the chill November wind, talking into the buggy,
+"because, to speak flatly and frankly, I am not. I don't consider that
+her example is very good for Old Chester, She is not a good
+housekeeper. I could tell you certain things--however, I won't, I
+never gossip. I just said, very kindly,' Good-by, Mrs. Richie. I hope
+you'll have a pleasant journey.' That was all. No insincere regrets.
+That's one thing about me, Dr. Lavendar, I may not be perfect, but I
+never say anything, just to be pleasant!"
+
+"I've noticed that," said Dr. Lavendar; "G'on, Goliath."
+
+And Martha, in great spirits, told her William at tea, that, though
+Dr. Lavendar was failing, she had to admit he could still see people's
+good qualities. "I told him I hadn't put on any airs of regret about
+Mrs. Richie, and he said he had always noticed my frankness."
+
+William helped himself to gooseberry jam in silence.
+
+"You do leave things so catacornered!" Martha observed, laying the
+thin silver spoon straight in the dish. "William, I never knew anybody
+so incapable as that woman. I asked her how she had packed her
+preserves for moving. She said she hadn't made any! Think of that, for
+a housekeeper. Oh, and I found out about that perfumery, I just asked
+her. It's nothing but ground orris!"
+
+William said he would like a cup of tea.
+
+"I can't make her out," Martha said, touching the teapot to make sure
+it was hot; "I've always said she wasn't her brother's equal,
+mentally. But you do expect a woman to have certain feminine
+qualities, now the idea of adopting a child, and then deserting him!"
+
+"She hadn't adopted him," William said.
+
+"It's the same thing; she took him, and now she gets tired of him, and
+won't keep him. She begins a thing, but she doesn't go on with it."
+
+"I suppose it's better not to begin it?" William said. And there was
+an edge in his voice that caused Mrs. King to hold her tongue.
+"Martha," the doctor said, after a while and with evident effort, "can
+you give me an early breakfast to-morrow morning? I've got to go back
+into the country, and I want to make an early start,"
+
+Helena Richie, too, meant to make an early start the next morning; it
+was the day that she was to leave Old Chester. The plan of going to
+the western city had gradually shaped itself, and while Dr. Lavendar
+was writing to those friends of his, and Helena corresponding with a
+real-estate agent, the packing-up at the Stuffed Animal House had
+proceeded. Now it was all done; Maggie and Sarah had had their wages,
+and several presents besides; the pony had been shipped from Mercer;
+the rabbits boxed and sent down to the Rectory; all was done;--except
+the saying good-by to David. But Helena told herself that she would
+not say good-by to him. She could not, she said. She would see him,
+but he should not know it was good-by. And so she asked Dr. Lavendar
+to send the child up to her the day before she was to go away;--by
+himself. "You'll trust him with me for an hour?" she said.
+
+She meant to cuddle the child, and give him the "forty kisses" which,
+at last, he was ready to accept, and let him chatter of all his
+multitudinous interests. Then she would send him away, and begin her
+empty life. The page which had held a promise of joy, would be turned
+over; a new, dreary chapter, with no promise in it, would begin....
+
+David came in the afternoon. He was a little late, and explained his
+tardiness by saying that he had found a toad, and tying a string
+around its waist, had tried to play horse with it, up the hill. "But
+he wouldn't drive," David said disgustedly; "maybe he was a lady toad;
+I don't know."
+
+"Perhaps the poor toad didn't like to be driven," Helena suggested.
+David looked thoughtful. "David," she said, "I am going away. Will you
+write a little letter to me sometimes?"
+
+"Maybe," said David. And slapped his pocket, in a great flurry; "Dr.
+Lavendar ga' me a letter for you!"
+
+She glanced at it to see if it needed an answer, but it was only to
+ask her to stop at the Rectory before she left town the next morning.
+
+"Tell Dr. Lavendar I will, darling," she said, and David nodded.
+
+She was sitting before the parlor fire; the little boy was leaning
+against her knee braiding three blades of grass; he was deeply
+absorbed. Helena took his face between her hands, and looked at it;
+then, to hide the trembling of her lips, she hid them in his neck.
+
+"You tickle!" said David, and wriggled out of her arms with chuckles
+of fun. "I'm making you a ring," he said.
+
+She let him push the little grass circlet over her finger, and then
+closed her hand on it lest it should slip off. "You won't forget me,
+David, will you?"
+
+"No," he said surprised; "I never forget anything. I remember
+everything the magician did. An' I remember when I was born."
+
+"Oh, David!"
+
+"I do. I remember my brother's candy horse. My brother--was--was, oh,
+seven or eight weeks older 'an me. Yes; I'll not forget you; not till
+I'm old. Not till I'm twenty, maybe. I guess I'll go now. We are going
+to have Jim Crow for dessert. Mary told me. You're prettier than Mary.
+Or Dr. Lavendar." This was a very long speech for David, and to make
+up for it he was silent for several minutes. He took her hand, and
+twisted the little grass ring round and round on her finger; and then,
+suddenly, his chin quivered. "I don't like you. You're going away," he
+said; he stamped his foot and threw himself against her knee in a
+paroxysm of tears. "I hate you!"
+
+It was so unexpected, and so entirely unlike David, that Helena forgot
+her own pain in soothing him. And, indeed, when she had said she would
+send him some candy--"and a false-face?" David blubbered;--"yes, dear
+precious!" she promised;--he quite cheered up, and dragging at her
+hand, he went skipping along beside her out to the green gate in the
+hedge.
+
+"I'll stop at the Rectory in the morning," she said, when she kissed
+him, bravely, in the twilight; "so I'll see you again, dear."
+
+"'By!" said David. And he had gone.
+
+She stood staring after him, fiercely brushing the tears away, because
+they dimmed the little joyous figure, trotting into the November dusk.
+
+The morning broke, gray and cloudy. William King had had his early
+breakfast; of course he had! Rather than fail in a housekeeper's duty,
+Martha would have sat up all night. When the doctor started for that
+call out into the country, Helena was just getting into the stage at
+the Stuffed Animal House. Once, as the coach went jolting down the
+hill, she lowered the misted window and looked back--then sank into
+her seat and put her hands over her eyes. Just for a while, there had
+been a little happiness in that house.
+
+They were half-way down the hill when Jonas drew in his horses so
+sharply that she made a quick effort to control herself; another
+passenger, she thought, shrinking into her corner.
+
+"I'll only detain you a minute or two, Jonas." William King said from
+the roadside. Jinny was hitched to the fence, and at the doctor's
+signalling hand, the stage drew up, with rattling whiffletrees. Then
+he opened the door and got in; he sat down on the opposite seat.
+
+"I wanted to say good-by to you," he said; "but, most of all, I wanted
+to tell you that I--I have the deepest regard for you. I want you to
+know that. I wanted to ask you if you would allow me to call myself
+your friend? I have seemed unkind, but--" he took her hand in both of
+his, and looked at her; his face twitched. "I implore you to believe
+me! I must not ask anything, or say anything, more than that. But I
+could not let you go away without asking your forgiveness--"
+
+"_My_ forgiveness!"
+
+"--Without asking you to pardon me, and to believe that I--have
+nothing but--esteem; the most--the most--friendly esteem; you will
+believe that, won't you?"
+
+"You are very good to me," she said brokenly.
+
+He was holding her hand so hard in his, that she winced with pain;
+instantly his harsh grasp relaxed, and he looked down at the white
+hand lying in his, soft, and fragrant, and useless as a flower; he
+said something under his breath; then bent down and kissed it. When he
+lifted his head, his face was very pale. "God bless you. God always
+bless you. Good-by!" And he was on the road again, shutting the coach
+door sharply. "Go on, Jonas!" he said. And Jonas gathered up the
+reins.
+
+Alone, she put her hands over her eyes again; the tumult of the moment
+left her breathless and broken. She had hated him because he would
+have robbed her of David; and then, when she robbed herself of David,
+she had almost forgotten him; but now, when the chill of the future
+was settling down upon her, to have him say he was her friend brought
+a sudden warmth about her heart. There seemed to be some value to
+life, after all.
+
+She had told Jonas to stop at the Rectory, and Dr. Lavendar met her at
+the front door. He explained that he wanted to have a last look at her
+and make sure she was taking wraps enough for the long cold ride to
+Mercer. He reminded her that she was to write to him the minute she
+arrived, and tell him all about her journey, and Ellen Bailey,--"and
+Spangler, of course," Dr. Lavendar added hurriedly. Then he asked her
+if she would take a package with her?
+
+"Yes, with pleasure," she said, looking vaguely out into the hall. But
+there was no sign of David. "Where is the package, Dr. Lavendar?"
+
+"I told Mary to give it to Jonas," he said. There was a moment's
+pause, and she looked at him dumbly.
+
+_"David?"_
+
+"He isn't here," Dr. Lavendar said gently.
+
+"Oh, Dr. Lavendar, tell him I love him! Will you tell him? Don't let
+him forget me! Oh, don't let him quite forget me."
+
+"He won't forget you," Dr. Lavendar said. He took both her hands, and
+looked into her face. It was a long and solemn look, but it was no
+longer questioning; the joy that there is in the presence of the
+angels, is done with questioning.
+
+"Helena," he said, "your Master came into the world as a little child.
+Receive Him in thy heart by faith, with thanksgiving."
+
+She looked up at him, trembling, and without words; but he understood.
+A moment later he gave her his blessing; then he said cheerfully, "I
+must not keep you any longer; come!" With Danny at his heels, he
+walked beside her down the garden path to the coach. It had begun to
+rain and the leather curtains flapped sharply in the cold wind. Jonas
+had buttoned the big apron up in front of him, and it was already
+shining wet; the steaming horses were pounding restlessly in the mud.
+
+She did not look about her. With unsteady hands she pulled her veil
+down; then she said faintly, "Good-by--" She hardly returned the
+friendly pressure of Dr. Lavendar's hand. She was so blinded by tears
+that she had stumbled into the stage before she saw the child,
+buttoned up to his ears in his first greatcoat, and bubbling over with
+excitement. Even when she did see him, she did not at first
+understand. She looked at him, and then at Dr. Lavendar, and then back
+at David, to whom it was all a delightful game which, the night
+before, Dr. Lavendar and he had got up between them. It served its
+purpose, for the child had no suspicion of anything unusual in the
+occasion.
+
+"_I'm_ the package!" said David joyously.
+
+The stage went sagging and rumbling down the road. For a long minute
+Dr. Lavendar stood in the rain, looking after it. Then it turned the
+corner and was out of sight. He drew a long breath. David had gone!
+
+A minute later he and Danny went back to the empty house.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Awakening of Helena Richie, by Margaret Deland
+
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