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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..74c06c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66018 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66018) diff --git a/old/66018-0.txt b/old/66018-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index dd53c41..0000000 --- a/old/66018-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5632 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Miss Lochinvar, by Marion Ames Taggart - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Miss Lochinvar - A Story for Girls - -Author: Marion Ames Taggart - -Illustrators: W. L. Jacobs - Bayard F. Jones - -Release Date: August 9, 2021 [eBook #66018] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Beth Baran, Sue Clark and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was - produced from scanned images of public domain material from - the Google Books project.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS LOCHINVAR *** - - - - - -MISS LOCHINVAR - - - - -[Illustration: Janet looked up and down the house which was to be her -home. (See page 19.)] - - - - - MISS LOCHINVAR - - _A STORY FOR GIRLS_ - - BY - MARION AMES TAGGART - - _Illustrated by - W. L. Jacobs and Bayard F. Jones_ - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - 1902 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1902 - BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - - _Published September, 1902_ - - - - - TO - POLLY AND JO - IN THE WEST. - - - - -CONTENTS - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I.--“YOUNG LOCHINVAR IS COME OUT OF THE WEST” 1 - - II.--“HE ALIGHTED AT NETHERBY GATE” 13 - - III.--“SO BOLDLY HE ENTER’D THE NETHERBY HALL” 28 - - IV.--“AMONG BRIDESMEN AND KINSMEN AND BROTHERS AND ALL” 43 - - V.--“AND, SAVE HIS GOOD BROADSWORD, HE WEAPONS HAD NONE” 56 - - VI.--“HE RODE ALL UNARM’D, AND HE RODE ALL ALONE” 71 - - VII.--“OH, COME YE IN PEACE HERE, OR COME YE IN WAR?” 88 - - VIII.--“HE STAYED NOT FOR BRAKE AND HE STOPPED NOT - FOR STONE” 102 - - IX.--“‘THEY’LL HAVE FLEET STEEDS THAT FOLLOW,’ QUOTH - YOUNG LOCHINVAR” 115 - - X.--“FOR A LAGGARD IN LOVE AND A DASTARD IN WAR” 133 - - XI.--“THERE NEVER WAS KNIGHT LIKE THE YOUNG LOCHINVAR” 146 - - XII.--“’TWERE BETTER BY FAR TO HAVE MATCHED OUR FAIR - COUSIN WITH YOUNG LOCHINVAR” 159 - - XIII.--“‘NOW TREAD WE A MEASURE,’ SAID YOUNG LOCHINVAR” 172 - - XIV.--“SO FAITHFUL IN LOVE, AND SO DAUNTLESS IN WAR” 188 - - XV.--“ONE TOUCH TO HER HAND, AND ONE WORD IN HER EAR” 202 - - XVI.--“HAVE YE E’ER HEARD OF GALLANT LIKE YOUNG - LOCHINVAR?” 216 - - XVII.--“THERE WAS MOUNTING ’MONG GRAEMES OF THE - NETHERBY CLAN” 233 - - XVIII.--“WITH A SMILE ON HER LIPS AND A TEAR IN HER EYE” 247 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - FACING PAGE - - Janet looked up and down the house which was to - be her home _Frontispiece_ - - “My dear little niece, you don’t know how glad I am - to see you” 37 - - The story-telling party 81 - - “You brutes! To treat a little dog like that!” 106 - - A ringing cheer announced Jan the victor 124 - - The impromptu ball began without the loss of a moment 181 - - “You’re not going to be blind, not one bit!” said Jack 219 - - The last glimpse of Jan 259 - - - - -MISS LOCHINVAR - -CHAPTER I - -“YOUNG LOCHINVAR IS COME OUT OF THE WEST” - - -The big dining-room looked a trifle dreary in spite of the splendor of -its appointments; in spite, too, of the fact that there were enough -children’s faces around the long table to have brightened it. But -though the six owners of these faces ranged between the happy ages of -sixteen and three, and were all healthy young folk, they lacked the -blithe look they should have worn, and so failed in illumining the -stately room. - -The youngest member of the house of Graham, a pretty child, had -wrinkled her brow until it looked like a pan of cream set in a very -breezy dairy. This was because the nurse-maid stood behind her chair, -an indignity little Geraldine--known as Jerry--resented bitterly, -though it recurred at each breakfast and lunch hour. She showed her -resentment by deliberately putting her spoon, full of oatmeal and -cream, into her mouth upside down every time the maid’s eyes strayed -for a moment, and also, painful though it be to record, by stretching -her kid-shoed foot around her high chair in sly and unamiable attempts -to kick her humiliating attendant. - -The eldest, a boy of sixteen, breakfasted in silence, with a sullen -air of aloofness from his family, and a secretive expression foreign -to his naturally frank and handsome face. The three girls, and one boy -ranging between him and Jerry, seemed rather to regard the meal as -something to be gone through with before they were free to attend to -matters interesting to each, than as a happy hour spent together before -separating for the day. - -The mother of this numerous brood was pretty and graceful, but she -looked harassed, and as though she lived in perpetual fear of missing -an appointment--which was indeed the case. - -Mr. Graham was a broker. Sydney, the oldest boy, said it took all his -father’s time to “be a broker and not broke,” and this was strictly -true. He was immersed in business too deeply to leave time or thought -for much else. He had an expensive family, and though he was accounted -a rich man, the uncertain ways of stocks in rising and falling always -made it possible for him to become a comparatively poor one. So in the -stress of laying the foundations of a handsome inheritance for his six -sons and daughters he had little chance to make their acquaintance, -though he was an indulgent father, and looked forward to the day, which -did not dawn, when he should have leisure to know them. - -It was Mr. Graham who suddenly aroused his inert family to keen -interest in what was going on around them. - -“What day of the month is this--the thirteenth?” he asked, as his eye -fell on the date-line of his newspaper, served with his coffee. - -“Yes; to-morrow is the day for us to dine with the Robesons,” said his -wife. - -“To-morrow is the day for our niece to arrive,” retorted Mr. Graham. -“Don’t forget to have her met, in case it slips my memory to-morrow -when Henry drives me down.” - -“Our niece! Arrives! What can you mean?” cried Mrs. Graham, in shrill -surprise, as she dropped her fork with a clatter which would have -called down a reprimand on Jerry. - -“I told you, didn’t I?” asked Mr. Graham, with an uneasy recollection -that he had not mentioned the matter, having a cowardly doubt as to -how his tidings would be received. “It’s my sister’s little girl--my -sister Jennie, you know, who married and settled out west in Crescendo. -Jennie’s husband has made her very happy--he’s a first-rate fellow--but -he hasn’t made her, nor any one else, including himself, rich. I -imagine they have to scramble along on rather slender provision for -a large brood; they have a big family. I don’t hear from Jennie very -often, and she never complains, but her last letter--it came nearly -two months ago--had a tone of sadness, and betrayed more than she -realized of anxiety. I answered it, and I told her to send her oldest -girl--Joan--Jane--no, Janet--Janet on here to us to go to school with -our girls this winter. She’s about Gwen and Gladys’s age. She won’t -be any trouble to us, and I fancy it will be considerable help to her -mother. So Jennie’s husband wrote me that the child would come, and -she’ll be here to-morrow.” - -Gwendoline, the oldest girl, who was fifteen; Gladys, the second -one, who was thirteen; seven-year-old Genevieve, and Ivan, a boy of -nearly eleven, stared at each other and at their parents in dumb -amazement. Mrs. Graham flushed with annoyance; only the presence of the -waitress and little Geraldine’s despised custodian restrained her from -expressing that annoyance forcibly. As it was, she said: “I can not -understand, Mr. Graham, how you could have added the care of another -child to me, who have six of my own to look after, without so much as -consulting me in the matter!” - -“But you don’t look after us, mamma,” said Ivan, quite cheerfully, -and with no idea of complaining. “You are too busy with all your -committees and teas and clubs and things. So she won’t be any bother, -and maybe she’ll be nice.” Ivan--who despised his Russian name, and had -succeeded in compelling his family to call him Jack as soon as he had -learned the names were equivalent to each other--was a warm-hearted, -hot-tempered, honest little fellow, who did not seem to belong to the -city splendors. “Jack had reverted,” his father said, “to his ancestral -stock”; one could easily imagine him happily driving cows on his -grandfather’s farm among the New Hampshire hills. - -“I admit, my dear, that it was not quite fair to spring this little -girl on you, as Jack would say, but I think the boy takes the true view -of it. One girl more or less will not matter in a family like this one, -and all the difference she will make will be a third bill to me for -tuition at Miss Larned’s school,” said Mr. Graham, trying to speak with -an assurance he did not feel. - -“But to us, papa!” cried Gladys, reproachfully. “It will mean more -than that to us. Gwen and I will have to introduce her to the girls; -she will expect to go about with us, and just fancy a poor girl from a -little Western town in our set!” - -Gwendoline--Mrs. Graham had had the happy thought of naming all her -daughters with the same initial, repeating that of their family -name--Gwendoline laughed scornfully at her sister’s remark. “I believe -I should rather enjoy livening up those girls,” she said. “I honestly -don’t see how she could have worse manners than some of them if she -came off an Indian reservation. You know, I just despise those silly, -giggling, affected girls, with their grown-up nonsense. They’re not all -like that, though. But then the nice ones would understand and make -allowance for her being a girl from a little town--nice people always -understand, I’ve noticed that. But what I think is she’ll be a nuisance -around the house. Goodness knows, I don’t want one single person more -to make a noise and get under foot when I want to do things!” - -“Oh, all you care for is writing, or daubing, or singing, or spouting -plays!” began Gladys, wrathfully; but little Genevieve, whom they -called Viva, interrupted her: “I wish she wasn’t so big. Are you -certain sure, papa, she’s as old as Gwen and Gladys? Because there -doesn’t be any one to play with me in this house.” - -“She is fourteen,” said Mr. Graham. “And, Gwen and Gladys, I wish -you to remember that this Janet Howe is your own cousin, my sister’s -child, and I want you to treat her kindly and make her happy. Many’s -the scrape her mother got me out of when I was a boy at home. There -never was a better sister than Jennie; no boy could have dreamed -an improvement on her. I always preferred her as a companion to my -brothers; she could row, fish, and bait her own hook and take off her -fish when she had caught them, too!--and she was as sweet-tempered and -loving as the day was long. I often wish you children were the friends -Jen and I used to be! But you each go your own way, and neither cares a -pin for any one else’s interests. Perhaps it is the result of living in -New York instead of in the peaceful town where I was born.” - -The children rarely had heard any reference to their father’s early -days, and they listened to this outburst with an interest that made -them forget their grievance for a moment. Then Jack spoke: “Do you -suppose that this girl is as nice as her mother, papa?” he said. “Do -you suppose she can bait a hook and sail a boat?” - -“Those things are not always inherited,” his father answered, laughing. -“There is not much chance to fish or sail in the middle of a prairie, -and Crescendo is a prairie town. But I have no doubt that your cousin -Janet will be as nice a little girl as you could find anywhere. I can’t -conceive of Jennie having any other than a nice daughter, and I am sure -you will be very grateful to me for getting her here.” - -“I shan’t be,” said Gladys, decidedly. “I can’t possibly go about with -a Wild West Show, papa.” - -“Gladys,” said her father, in a tone his children rarely heard. “You -forget to whom you are speaking, and that you are speaking of my -dearest sister’s daughter. Let me hear one more syllable like that, or -see one glimmer of that spirit toward your cousin Janet, and you will -be sent to a boarding-school, where you will not go about with any -one. I shall invite whom I please to my own house, and my daughters -will treat them with courtesy. Remember what I say, and you, too, -Gwendoline, Sydney, Jack, and Viva.” - -Gwen laughed good-naturedly. “I won’t treat her badly, papa, though you -can’t expect me to be precisely glad she is coming,” she said. - -Gladys looked sullen, but Jerry saved the day by stretching her arms -very wide, a piece of bread in one hand, her dripping teaspoon in -the other. “I will love her,” she announced, speaking for the first -time; she had been turning from one to the other during this exciting -conversation. “I will div her my o’meal po’dge, out of er spoon wight -side up. An’ I’ll let Tsusan ’tand ahind her tchair,” added the small -hypocrite, nodding her golden curls benignly, and turning to smile -beatifically at her nurse-maid. - -It was impossible not to laugh at this noble exhibition of generosity, -and with this laugh the breakfast party broke up. - -“It is really very trying, Howard, to have a girl, of whom we know -nothing, and just the age of our girls, thrust upon our poor dears for -the entire winter, not to mention my part of the burden,” said Mrs. -Graham, as she followed her husband into the hall. “I really can not -blame poor Gwen and Gladys for feeling as they do. I should have said -more myself, but that I did not care to discuss family matters before -the servants, or encourage the children in their apprehensions, and -their tendency to disobey you.” - -“Oh, it will be all right, Tina!” said Mr. Graham, easily. “We have -talked about it too long; a small girl of fourteen or so is not worth -so much discussion. I’ll meet you to-night at seven, if you like, at -Delmonico’s, and we’ll go to the theater after we dine. Henry can bring -down my evening clothes when he meets me. I have a directors’ meeting -after Exchange closes, and I can’t get home to dress before dinner.” - -Mrs. Graham’s face cleared, as her husband felt sure that it would, -at this proposition, but she said reproachfully, as she kissed him -good-by: “You know our club has its semiannual dinner to-night, Howard, -and you promised to come later and hear the speeches.” - -“Merciful powers! Don’t mention such trifles as an extra girl or two in -the house after that!” groaned Mr. Graham, in mock despair, as he got -into his overcoat. “I really believe I did!” - -“When did you say that this Miss Lochinvar was to come out of the West, -father?” asked Sydney, delaying on his way through the hall. Throughout -the discussion at the table the eldest born had not spoken. - -“To-morrow; will you go with one of the girls in the carriage to meet -her?” asked his father, looking up with a laugh for the apt nickname. - -“Couldn’t possibly; I am booked for football with our team,” said -Sydney, resuming his way, having stopped as his father spoke. “I wish -Miss Lochinvar joy, though; if she has plenty of brothers and sisters -she’s likely to be lonesome in this crowd.” - -Gwendoline and Gladys sauntered along as he said these words, and -stopped short with a peal of exultant laughter. “Miss Lochinvar! Well, -if that isn’t the very best name for her!” they cried in a breath. “We -shall always call her that. Isn’t Sydney too clever!” But in Gwen’s -laugh there was only pure amusement at the fun of the thing, while in -Gladys’s mirth there was a ring of spite. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -“HE ALIGHTED AT NETHERBY GATE” - - -The question of meeting the little stranger from Crescendo was solved -by sending Nurse Hummel to the station, as probably any one of the -Graham family could have prophesied that it would be. Most things in -that household connected with a child fell into Nurse Hummel’s hands. -She had come to take charge of Sydney when he was a youth one month -old, with more nebulous features than are considered desirable for -perfect beauty. Consequently she had presided over the earliest moments -of the life of each of the succeeding Graham babies; had nursed them -with love no mere money could recompense through childish and more -serious illnesses, and cherished them with all the warmth of her big -German heart, early bereft of the love of her husband and her own only -little child. - -To Nurse Hummel the Grahams repaired with their griefs, not to their -busy mother; and “Hummie” was so fond of them that while they were -small they did not realize that there were children whose mothers could -give them more attention than theirs did, and that mother-love is more -satisfactory than any other. - -Mrs. Graham found at the last moment that she could not send Henry with -the horses all the way over to the West Twenty-third Street Ferry; but -Nurse Hummel was despatched, with instructions to select a hansom drawn -by a lively horse, and to come up-town by the way of Fifth Avenue, so -“Miss Lochinvar” would certainly enjoy her drive--probably enjoy it -more than if she had been shut up in the Grahams’ more elegant brougham. - -The new cousin was not to arrive until afternoon, a fortunate thing, -for though it never occurred to either Gwendoline or Gladys to go to -meet her, they were most curious in regard to her, and very anxious to -be in the house when she reached it. - -They were ensconced behind the long lace curtains of the library on the -second floor, perfectly hidden, yet seeing perfectly, when the hansom -drove up. - -Janet Howe had not talked much during that drive, though Nurse Hummel -tried in her most motherly way to draw her out. She thought that the -little girl was bewildered into silence by the splendor, confusion, -and hubbub of the second city of the world, but though this was in a -measure true, it was not the main cause of Janet’s quietness. - -All the way during the last half of her two days’ journey--the first -half being given up to longing for the beloved faces and little house -which she had left behind--Janet had let her thoughts leap forward to -the dear cousins, the aunt and uncle who were awaiting her. She was -all ready to love them; she _did_ love them, for they were her -blessed mother’s kindred, who were so good to her in taking her into -their hearts and home, in letting her share the wealth she knew they -possessed, and in sharing one another with her. She knew the names and -ages of each one of them; that Sydney was very handsome and Gwen very -clever. All the Howes knew their Eastern cousins literally by heart, -for they occupied in the minds of the little folk in the plain house -in Crescendo a position something between an embodiment of perfect -kinship and the princes and princesses of the fairy tales. And Janet -knew and loved her Aunt Tina and her dearest Uncle Howard with positive -worship, heightened, if possible, by their kindness to her in offering -her this winter in New York. Her mother had talked to the children of -her happy girlhood with her brother, until every little brook, every -shaded path and meadow in the distant New Hampshire home, and every -trick of voice and manner of this favorite brother Howard were as -familiar to them as were their own lives and one another. Janet felt -quite sure that when she descended upon the platform in the station and -found all the Grahams drawn up in line to meet her, waving their hands -and laughing--for that was the way the Howes always welcomed a stray -guest to Crescendo--that she should be able to pick out each one with -perfect accuracy. She should make no mistake as to which was Sydney, -and which was Jack--she couldn’t very well, since there was nearly six -years’ difference between them--nor which was Gwen and which Gladys, -and quiet Viva, and dear little Geraldine, for whom she hungered most -of all because she was precisely the age of her own precious youngest -sister, her pet Poppet, as she called little Elizabeth. When she did -descend upon the platform on the Jersey City side, a trifle sobered by -the vastness of the station, the rush of the crowd, and the babel of -sounds, there was no line of merry young faces anywhere in sight, no -one that could be Uncle Howard or Aunt Tina, not even one who could be -Sydney, Gwen, or Gladys. Janet caught her breath with a sharp pain, -half fright, half bitter disappointment, and looked wildly around at -the mad-appearing passengers, tearing through the chilly station with -as frantic haste to catch the lumbering ferry-boat as if it had been as -fast as a Bandersnatch. - -Just at that dreadful moment a woman in iron gray--all round, face, -body, gait, and all--came toward Janet, smiling with sufficient -expansiveness to cover the lack of several other smiles. “Is this -little Miss Janet Howe from Crescendo?” she asked, with just enough -of the German accent familiar in the West to make this meek, girlish -Lochinvar feel comforted. - -“Oh, yes. Where are my aunt and uncle, and my cousins?” cried Janet. -“And who are you, if you please?” - -“I am Nurse Hummel, and I’ve come to take you to your friends,” said -the rotund creature, with such assurance that “all was right in the -world” that Janet began to suspect herself of unreason in expecting her -relatives to meet her. - -“None of them could get down here to-day, but that doesn’t matter. -You’ll soon find out that Nurse Hummel looks after all of you. I have -taken care of every Graham child of them all since Master Sydney was a -month old. Give me your check.” - -Nurse Hummel led the way, and Janet followed, somewhat reassured, but -still with the lurking sense of disappointment. The capable woman gave -the check for Janet’s battered little trunk to a transfer express, and -put the child into a cab, drawn by the most frisky, high-headed horse -at the New York side of the ferry. Then she got in herself, not without -audible maledictions on joints that were less limber than in her youth. - -When the interesting, but confusing, drive ended in the frisky horse -being pulled up so short before the Graham’s door that he almost sat -down on his pathetic, docked tail, Janet looked up and down the house -which was to be her home for many months. She saw a high, brownstone -structure, differing not at all, apparently, from a long line of such -edifices stretching westward from Fifth Avenue as far as she could see, -and eastward again across it. Not a sign of life could she espy; not a -curtain moved; not a face smiled at her; not a hand waved, still less -was there the shouting, gesticulating bevy of cousins on the front -steps which she had hoped to see. - -But she was not arriving unnoted. Behind the curtains on the second -floor five eager faces peered out to catch the first glimpse of her. -The Graham children saw a short girl, not quite as tall as Gladys, with -soft, rounding curves throughout her body; a face that was decidedly -pretty, but very pathetic; with big, wistful brown eyes, looking -as if they might quickly be hidden by tears; brown hair, curling -around a broad, white forehead; a skin with a hint of brown beneath -its whiteness, and full, red lips meeting in soft curves, fashioned, -unmistakably, for smiling, but now drooping at the corners in an -attempt to keep them from quivering. They saw also a brown skirt and -jacket, with reddish tints occasionally, showing wear, and revealing, -to more experienced eyes, the fact that they had originally been made -up with the other side of the goods out. A hopelessly unstylish hat -surmounted the beautiful masses of red-brown hair, and woolen gloves -completed a costume that made Gladys groan aloud at its confirmation of -her worst fears. But Gwen, truly artistic, and with truer standards of -judgment than her sister’s, unguided though they were, saw the facts -which the shabbiness of her new cousin’s garments could not conceal -from her more observant eyes. - -“She’s awfully pretty, Gladys,” she said. “And she looks like a lady, -and she looks sweet, and--and--oh, I don’t know--trusty, like a dog. -And, dear me, she is really _awfully_ pretty; ever so much -prettier than either of us.” - -Gladys gave a derisive sniff. “Pretty! Well, so she might be, if -she looked decent, but, for goodness’ sake, what clothes! Why, our -laundress’s girl looks better! Fancy taking such a guy to school! I -shall die of mortiffication.” - -Gwen actually laughed. “Mor_tif_-fication, Gladys? Maybe bad -pronunciation is as bad as old clothes, if you stop to think about it. -And Mary Ellen Flynn does wear citified things, and frizzes and cheap -lace, and so on, but I don’t know that I think she looks better than -that girl down there. At any rate, I suppose there are other clothes -in New York, and if it would save your life, we might make her look -decent.” - -“I think she looks as though she could fish and sail a boat, too,” -said Jack, who, while his sisters were frivolously discussing mere -externals, had been silently considering the new cousin from the more -important viewpoint of her possible inheritance of her mother’s talents. - -In the meantime, Norah, the waitress, had admitted Nurse Hummel and her -charge, and poor Janet was heavy-heartedly climbing the long flight of -stairs, without a voice to hail her coming. “We always meet people -at home, Mrs. Hummel,” she said at last, in a trembling voice, as -she paused at the landing to turn back to her guide, following with -shortened breath. “Aren’t they glad to see me?” - -“What nonsense; just nonsense!” declared Nurse Hummel, with the -increase of accent always perceptible when she was moved. “There iss -different customs, that’s all. Ve iss not der same as you in der -Vest. My younk ladies iss vaiting you in der library, alretty. Yet it -vouldn’t haf hurt if someone came out mit greetings vonce,” she added -to herself, half minded to be indignant for the coldness shown the -little stranger, whose sweet and charming ways had immediately won her -affection. - -As Nurse Hummel’s solid tread, passing Janet’s light one in the hall, -fell on the ears of the group in the window, all but Jack and Viva -stepped hastily forward, anxious not to appear to have been indulging -in surreptitious curiosity. - -Nurse Hummel opened the door. “My dears,” she said, “here iss your -cousin, quite safe, und as glad to see you as you are to see her.” And -she gently pushed Janet past her toward her relatives. - -“How do you do?” said Gladys, in her most grown-up, and, as she fondly -flattered herself, most elegant air. “I hope you are not too tired -after your journey.” With which enthusiastic speech of welcome she bent -gracefully forward and lightly pecked Janet’s cheek, apparently not -seeing that the fresh young lips were ready to be met by hers. - -Now Gladys’s affectations always exasperated Gwen beyond bearing, no -matter what called them forth, and she was really sorry for her cousin, -who looked as bewildered as hurt by this piece of nonsense. So it was -a commingling of temper and kindliness which made her own manner more -than usually simple and hearty as she put her arms around Janet and -kissed her, saying, “You look very nice, Janet, and I hope you will -like New York and us.” - -Janet raised her wet eyes to the tall girl above her, returning the -kiss with warmth and interest. “You’re Gwen, the clever one; I am -sure I shall just love you,” she said, and Gwen smiled with sincere -pleasure. - -“Hallo, Jack! hallo, Viva!” cried Janet, partly restored to -cheerfulness by Gwen’s welcome, and glad to display her ready knowledge -of her family. “Come out here, and let me see you better. You don’t -know how I miss Bob and Nannie; they’re your ages. And Geraldine! If I -don’t love babies, then I don’t love anything on this whole earth! Do -you think I’d scare her if I kissed her? Is she shy? Poppet is--just at -first, you know.” - -“Oh, I don’t think she’s at all shy!” said Gladys. “She sees so many -people; mamma receives a great deal, and Jerry sees quantities of -people, because they always think they have to ask for the youngest. -She isn’t much to rave over; she’s a cross, spoiled little kid, I -think.” - -Janet stared at this remark, both because she had been taught that -slang was not well-bred, and Gladys was so very fine-ladified, and -because she could not imagine any one taking that attitude toward her -baby sister. Jerry stamped her foot. “I’m not tross! You are tross, -Tladys Traham! I love dis new one better’n you.” And she turned with -an angelic smile to throw herself into Janet’s outstretched arms, -which closed on her as their owner gave a quick sob, fancying they held -Poppet to her breast. - -“You’re a darling, pretty, little petsy-cousin,” declared Janet, with -such unmistakable sincerity that Jerry melted still more. - -“An’ you’re a darlin’, pretty, _bid_, pets’ tousin,” she retorted. -And from that instant Janet had one devoted adherent in her new home. - -“Why do they call you Miss Lochinvar?” asked Viva, suddenly. She had -been considering Janet with her own grave thoughtfulness, and her -question fell like a bomb upon the ears of her shocked sisters. - -Janet looked quickly from one to the other of her two elder girl -cousins. - -“I hope you won’t mind, Janet; Syd called you that the morning we heard -you were coming, and it was so nice we couldn’t help adopting it,” said -Gwen, her color mounting high. “He didn’t mean it unkindly; neither did -we. It was only because you were coming ‘out of the West,’ you know. -You don’t mind, do you?” - -“No, I don’t mind. Why should I?” replied Janet, with an uneasy little -laugh. “Young Lochinvar carried everything before him. It is rather -complimentary. And you might as well call me Jan. They always do at -home; Janet seems so long. Though, of course, if you like it better, it -doesn’t matter.” - -“No; Jan is cozy, and it suits you somehow,” said Gwen. “Don’t you -want me to take you to your room? You must be tired, and feel all over -cinders; I always do after I have been traveling.” - -“Thanks. Is Aunt Tina away?” asked Janet timidly. - -“Oh, mamma is out; she has no end of things to attend to; she isn’t at -home much,” said Gladys. “We are all dreadfully busy; I never have a -moment myself! Papa dines here--no, he doesn’t either! Papa and mamma -dine out to-night. Well, that’s just the way. You’ll find New York -rather different from a little town.” - -“You’ll find New York very nice, and full of all sorts of things; it’s -too big to be all one way,” said Gwen, filled with an unsisterly desire -to shake Gladys’s high-and-mighty air out of her, as she saw the blank -look of loneliness that came over the pretty, sensitive face before -her. “Come up-stairs with me.--Gladys, you may tell the girls I won’t -be around to-day.--Viva, you go with Hummie and Jerry.--Come on, Jan.” - -Janet followed the one friendly person, except the big nurse Gwen -called “Hummie,” whom she had met in this strange household. Gwen put -her arm around the little brown figure, and Jan returned her pressure, -yet she kept her eyes down on the way up-stairs, lest Gwen should see -the tears, and she could not help feeling that she had passed through -a sort of mental Russian bath, plunging from the warm affection of her -own humbler home, and her loving anticipations of this new one, into -the actual chill of her welcome to it. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -“SO BOLDLY HE ENTER’D THE NETHERBY HALL” - - -Janet could not repress a cry of pleasure as Gwen threw open the door -of her room, despondently as she had approached it. It was one of the -smallest rooms in the large house, but it was quite big enough for one -small girl, and it was so pretty! The furniture was bird’s-eye maple; -the paper, carpet, hangings, all a harmony of soft old-rose color; and -the few pictures both good and cheerful. - -“Is this really my room?” cried Jan, who had loved the big, bare, sunny -room at home, which she had shared with her two sisters next in order -to her, but who had always longed secretly for a lovely room, such -as she read of in her favorite stories, and which should be all her -own. And now, behold, here was her wish gratified beyond her wildest -imaginings--at least, while she was an inmate of her uncle’s household. - -“Yes. Do you really like it? It isn’t very large, but maybe you won’t -mind,” said Gwen, looking around her critically. “The next room is the -nursery. Hummie sleeps there, and Jerry’s crib is there; Viva does -her lessons there in the morning--she has a governess; she hasn’t -begun school. If you want anything, you must go in to Hummie--that’s -headquarters for any Graham in distress. Gladys has the middle room on -this floor, and mine is the back one; Viva has the one beside mine at -the end of the hall. We won’t hear one another much, because the house -is so dreadfully deep, and the dressing-rooms are between the chambers; -that’s one good thing. Syd calls this floor ‘the hennery,’ because all -the girls’ rooms are here. I told him that I didn’t mind; if he and -Jack were roosters, it was proper they should roost above us--they are -on the next floor, you know. And he didn’t like it, though I think my -joke is quite as good as his--it’s the same joke, in fact.” And Gwen -laughed in malicious enjoyment of these exquisite sallies of wit. - -Janet had been looking out of the window, and discovered that the -identity of the architecture of the houses in the street was less than -she had taken it to be; there were many points of difference between -her uncle’s house and his neighbors’, though the uniform brownstone -made them drearily similar to eyes used to long stretches and plenty -of space. But she had also caught a glimpse of trees and grass as she -leaned out, and she drew her head in to inquire of Gwen what they -meant, forgetting the pretty room, and not hearing what her cousin had -been saying. - -“That is Central Park; the entrance is just above us, at Fifty-ninth -Street,” said Gwen, wondering at Jan’s brightening eyes. “It is nice to -have it so near; I often go there to think out my plans--stories and -poems and such things--and Glad and I are learning to ride.” - -“I know you are awfully clever. Uncle sent mamma some of your poetry, -cut out of a magazine,” said Janet, removing her hat and shaking out -her masses of warm-tinted, curling hair. - -“Oh, my, what bea-u-tiful hair!” cried Gwen involuntarily. “And what -lots of it! If that doesn’t make that conceited old Daisy Hammond turn -green when she sees it! She’s so vain of her hair, it fairly disgusts -one! Oh, those verses were only in the back part of St. Nicholas, where -the children’s things are. It was ever so long ago--certainly two -years. I hope I can do better than that now.” - -“Do you expect to write when you are grown up?” asked Jan, with the awe -for a person who could look forward to such a career natural to a girl -who dearly loved books, and who felt that they who made them belonged -to an order of beings apart from common mortals. - -“I can’t tell,” said Gwen, seating herself on the bed beside her cousin -and taking her knee into the clasp of both her hands--it was not often -that she found any one willing to listen to her hopes, much less treat -them with positive veneration. “You see,” she continued, “I can paint -just as well as I can write, and my teacher says I have a very good -voice. I might become an artist instead of an author, or I might go -on the stage and become a great opera singer, like Melba. I shouldn’t -like you to mention it, Jan, because they all--except mamma--make fun -of me, but I mean to make a big name for myself somehow, and as long -as I do that I don’t care which way I do it. Gladys likes society, -and dress, and such stuff,” continued the ambitious young person, -with withering scorn, “but I want to be something that is something. -It’s pretty hard, though, when you’re one of such a dreadfully big -family. I would like to get off by myself on a desert island, like -Robinson Crusoe, and only see them on birthdays, and Christmas, and -Thanksgiving, and such times.” - -“Mercy!” exclaimed Jan, rather shocked, though she realized that genius -was not to be measured by ordinary standards. “That would never suit -me.” - -“What do you want to do? What’s your special talent?” asked Gwen. - -“I haven’t any,” replied Jan. “Unless,” she added, with a twinkle, “it -is a talent to wash and dress children, and dust, and wash dishes, and -make cake, and those things--I can do all that.” - -“How perfectly awful!” cried Gwen with conviction. “You poor little -soul, have you been leading such a poky, drudge’s life as that? I am -glad, then, that papa got you here, after all.” - -Janet was too quick-witted to miss the implication that Gwen had not -always been glad of her coming, but she said with spirit: “You needn’t -pity me, Gwen, for no girl ever had more fun than I have. I like to do -those things--at least, usually I do.” Jan was too honest not to leave -a margin for those occasions when household tasks had been irksome. “I -have the very nicest home in all the world, and it would be bad enough -if I weren’t willing to do something in it! And we children have the -loveliest times--you ought to see what a splendid little crowd they -are! I don’t know, but I shouldn’t wonder if--” Jan stopped short, not -wishing to impart to her cousin her first impression that the Grahams -were less happy than the Howes. - -Gwen was too preoccupied to notice the halt. “And what do you mean to -do, then, when you are grown up?” she insisted. - -Jan hesitated. “I believe,” she said slowly, “I don’t want to be very -much of anything--not anything famous or showy, I mean. Papa says it -is hardest, and greatest of all, to be a true-hearted, noble woman who -makes home happy and helps everybody to be good. I believe I would -rather do that--be the sort of woman mamma is--than anything.” - -“What sort of woman is she?” asked Gwen respectfully; the glow in Jan’s -eyes and the loving tremor in her voice impressed the girl, who had -never had this side of life presented to her aspirations before. - -“She is so cheery and kind, she makes you feel better, no matter how -miserable you are, if she just walks through the room,” said Jan. “She -never thinks of herself at all--it keeps us busy to stop her going -without things for us all the time. She never is too tired to listen to -our fusses, nor too busy to unsnarl us. She never says a word if she is -sick or troubled, but puts it all out of sight so no one else will be -unhappy, too. And she makes time, somehow, for her neighbors’ troubles. -And she not only cooks, and sews, and nurses us children, but she reads -to us, and talks to us, and we each feel as though we were all alone -in the world with her. And she never breaks a promise to us, whether -it is to do something pleasant for us or to punish us, and she is -never the least wee bit partial or unjust. And when we’re bad, or have -crooked days, she is so patient! And she just loves us straight and -good. And there isn’t one of us that wouldn’t just die if we thought we -had deceived or disappointed her, because she trusts us. And everybody -wonders why the Howe children are so square, and honorable, and good, -on the whole. As if they could help being--with such a mother! -Oh, I love her, I do love her!” And Jan’s tears rolled over as she -remembered how many miles now separated her from this dear woman, and -how long it must be before she held her tight in her arms again. - -Gwen sat motionless, looking down on the long fingers clasping her -knee, as Jan stopped speaking. Her face was sweet and serious, although -a trifle puzzled. Jan had given her an entirely new point of view, had -filled her mind with new thoughts; and it was a fine mind, guiding a -noble nature, both quite capable of appreciating the picture her cousin -had painted. - -“Thank you, Jan,” she said at last, to Jan’s surprise, as she rose to -leave her. “I think I see what you mean. I shouldn’t wonder if your -ambition was better than mine; I mean to think that over. By and by -you’ll tell me more about Crescendo and Aunt Jennie; I wish I knew her; -I wish--” Here Gwen stopped in her turn. “Don’t be homesick, and don’t -mind Gladys. She is so silly that it doesn’t mean one thing. Come down, -when you get ready, to the library--where we were when you came. Papa -will want to speak to you before he goes out. And don’t miss those nice -people too much; we’ll try to be decent, and I guess you’ll like New -York. I’ll tell Norah to have your trunk sent up when it comes.” - -Gwen left the room with a smile intended to be reassuring, but which -was rather wistful, and Jan proceeded to wash away the tears, which she -immediately checked, and with them the cinders from her long journey. - -The little trunk was long coming, and while Janet was wondering whether -she should go down without waiting for it Viva knocked softly at her -door. - -“O Viva, darling, I’m so glad it’s you! Come in and talk to me,” cried -Jan. - -[Illustration: “My dear little niece, you don’t know how glad I am to -see you.”] - -“I can’t, Janet, because papa sent me up to say, won’t you please come -down and talk to him for half an hour before he gets dressed to go -out?” said Viva gravely. - -“If you’ll just wait till I braid my hair,” said Jan, kissing the pale -little face, from which dark eyes looked out seriously upon her. “Has -auntie come home, too?” - -“Yes; mamma’s in,” said Viva. “If I were you, I’d let my hair hang all -around like that. It’s so very, very pretty. You are pretty, too; much -prettier than Gwen and Gladys--Gwen said so, too.” - -“‘Pretty is that pretty does,’ you know, little cousin,” laughed Janet. -“Gladys is graceful and stylish, and Gwen looks clever; besides she has -perfectly glorious eyes. Come, then, if you think I’m nicer with my -hair crazy.” And Jan took the hand extended to her with a sinking of -the heart of which she was ashamed. - -“My dear little niece, you don’t know how glad I am to see you,” said -a voice heartily as she entered the library, and then she felt a -warm kiss on each cheek, mingled with the odor of a very good cigar. -After this Janet ventured to lift her eyes. She saw a handsome man, -keen-eyed, yet smiling, looking at her closely, while from across -the room a pretty woman in a beautiful _negligée_ came languidly -toward her. “How do you do, child? I hope you are not too tired,” she -said, in a manner recalling Gladys as much as the words did. Janet -kissed this new aunt, but her eyes wandered back to her uncle, seeking -a resemblance in him to her mother. He smiled upon her, and said: “You -are like Jennie in expression more than in features. By Jove, I wish -she were here, too! Dear little woman!” Janet’s lip quivered, and her -uncle quickly drew her beside him upon the couch. - -“Now tell me everything you can think of about that blessed mother of -yours,” he said. “She’s the dearest woman in the world--I hope you know -that?” - -“Indeed I do!” cried Jan fervently, and in a few moments was rattling -off to her uncle, in response to judicious questions, the simple story -of her life. - -The half-hour passed too quickly; in it Jan was completely happy, and -it was long enough to win her heart to her uncle with an affection that -subsequent days could not annul. After he and her aunt, of whom she -had a resplendent glimpse in her dinner gown, had driven away there -was a dull half-hour of waiting, at the end of which Gwen and Gladys -appeared, and they were called to dinner in the big dining-room, which -struck a chill as well as awe to Jan’s soul. Here she saw Sydney for -the first time, but beyond a nod to her when Gwen introduced her he -did not notice Janet throughout the meal, nor speak except once to -contradict Gladys flatly, and once to ridicule Jack for a slip of the -tongue. Janet’s heart sank lower and lower; it seemed to her that she -was stifling, and her loving heart exaggerated the really unfortunate -state of affairs in her new surroundings. - -After dinner Gladys disappeared, as did Sydney, and Gwen, having been -polite to the guest for a while, picked up a book and was soon lost in -it. Viva had gone to bed, and Jack was up-stairs struggling with his -lessons. Wondering if she was doing an unpardonably rude thing, Janet -slipped out of the room and sought the nursery. Here she found Jerry -sleeping in her crib; her flushed, baby face brought comfort and the -sense of home to the lonely “Miss Lochinvar.” Here, too, was Hummie, -darning stockings and humming the Lorelei, a most inappropriate theme -to her bulk. And here was Jack, his hair tousled, his cheeks hot over -refractory examples that would not come right. - -“I won’t wake the baby; may I help him?” whispered Janet, and Hummie -nodded hard. - -“Let me help you; I love arithmetic, and I always help Bob,” Janet -whispered, going over to the afflicted boy. If the sky had fallen, Jack -would not have been more amazed. Not only was it inconceivable that any -one should like arithmetic, but to offer to help him! He yielded at -once, from sheer inability to grasp the situation. - -But here was a girl that was a girl--if she wasn’t a good angel. - -Jack’s admiration grew as his troubles diminished. With a word here -and an illustration there, Jan threw light upon his darkened path, and -she actually whispered funny things as she did so. Jack found himself -positively giggling under his breath as he worked over the hated sums. - -“Gee! You’re a dandy!” he remarked audibly, forgetful of Jerry, -as he saw the task completed. “And you can explain as old Ramrod -can’t--that’s my name for our teacher, he’s so stiff; ain’t it great? -I understand just how you did that, and I don’t believe I ever saw -through the stuff before. Thanks, lots, Jan.” - -“Not a bit; I have had a nice time with you, Jack. I’ll come every -night, if you’ll let me, and I don’t have lessons of my own to do at -night,” said Jan heartily. “Even if I do, we can make time. You know I -like this sort of thing, because at home we children help each other, -and it makes me less lonesome.” - -“Gee!” said Jack again. “What a queer house yours must be! Nice, -though.” And Jan had gained one more devoted admirer among her new -cousins. - -This little adventure sent her to bed in a much happier mood than -she had expected to go in, and Gwen, moved with compunction when she -aroused from her pages to find her cousin gone, came up to make her a -little visit. The trunk had come, and Gwen eyed with pitying glance -its slender and shabby contents, inwardly resolving to set the matter -of dress right before Jan made her appearance in the Misses Larned’s -formidable halls of learning. - -Jan had intended crying herself to sleep--had laid the plan during -the dreary dinner--but helping Jack and talking to Gwen so cheered -her--besides she was so tired--that she quite forgot it, and fell -asleep almost at once after she had laid herself down for the first -time in her pretty bed, for her first night in vast New York. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -“AMONG BRIDESMEN AND KINSMEN AND BROTHERS AND ALL” - - -For three days Janet’s life in her new surroundings was neither dull -nor lonely. She saw but little of her aunt, and practically nothing -of Gladys, who showed unmistakably that she did not consider “Miss -Lochinvar” worth bothering about; nor was Sydney’s manner to her -different from his taciturnity toward his own family. But Jack, Viva, -and Jerry lost no time in learning to admire her--they all three -worshiped Jan by the end of her second day among them. - -With Mr. Graham Janet passed two happy evenings talking of her mother, -surprising him with her knowledge of the most minor details of his own -boyhood and early home, and rousing him into telling funny stories of -happenings of which she did not know, to the boundless surprise of his -own children. At the end of that time her uncle had grown accustomed to -her presence, and, though his affection for his sister was one of the -strongest ties of his life, they had been separated so long that other -interests made more pressing claim upon him. Added to this was the -fact that matters on Exchange were threatening; there was danger of “a -bear market.” Janet heard him say this, and construed it by her Kansas -experience of crop failures to mean “a bare market,” and she pictured -to herself empty stalls and New York threatened with shortage in food. -Mr. Graham was vitally interested in keeping prices up, and became so -preoccupied that Janet received from him only the pleasant word night -and morning accorded his own children. Gwen, heroically, and with more -pleasure to herself than she expected, entertained her cousin for three -days. Then her absorbing interest in her own pursuits asserted itself; -she began her sixth novel--none of them had ever passed the fourth -chapter, and but one reached it--and forgot Jan completely in the -solitude of her own room when she got home from school. - -It had been decided that Janet should have at least a week in which to -accustom herself to exile before facing the girl world in the Misses -Larned’s school. Gwen had suggested to her father that Janet be clad -suitably before this ordeal, and he had promptly written a generous -check for that purpose to supplement at shops where the Grahams had no -account any deficiencies in what they wished to purchase where bills -were charged. Nurse Hummel and Gwen had gone down once with Janet -to begin this shopping, but to “Miss Lochinvar’s” bewilderment, she -learned that many trips were required to fit her out as a New York -schoolgirl, and after this first one she and Hummie had to go alone. -Gladys flatly refused to go abroad with her cousin until these changes -in her costume had been made, and was most anxious that she should not -be seen by any of her schoolmates, but Gwen did not conceal the fact -that they had a Western cousin consigned to them for the winter, and -the three girls whom Gwen most disliked, and Gladys stood most in awe -of, set out at once to call upon her, moved by curiosity rather than -friendliness. - -“Miss Hammond, Miss Gwen, and Miss Ida Hammond and Miss Flossie Gilsey -is down-stairs to see you; they sint their cards. They do be asking for -Miss Janet, though not be name,” said Norah, presenting six bits of -pasteboard through the crack of Gwen’s door. - -“Oh, for mercy’s sake! Has anything come home for that prairie-chicken -to put on?” exclaimed Gladys, flushing with annoyance; she chanced to -be at that moment in her sister’s room. - -“I don’t believe so,” said Gwen composedly. “They had to alter the -house dress we got ready-made. Still, it doesn’t matter for those -girls.” - -“Gwendoline Graham, you are enough to provoke a saint! Of all the girls -in school, they are the ones who would notice most, and they have the -most money,” cried Gladys. - -“And are the most vulgar and the stupidest about their lessons,” -finished Gwen. “I don’t see why you mind what such people think. -However, I’ll go up and see what I can do for Jan.” And she arose, -putting aside her lap tablet with the air of a martyr. - -“She can’t wear anything of yours; she isn’t tall enough, and they -would know our things, anyway,” said Gladys. “I suppose we’ve just got -to let her come in that shabby best dress of hers. But do tell her not -to say or do anything queer, or tell any of those stories she tells the -children about riding broncos and playing Indian in the fields--no, -prairies! Make her understand she has to be like other people, and -these are swell girls.” - -“If she’s used to wearing feathers and war-paint we can’t make her take -to civilization right off--no Indian does that,” said Gwen wickedly, -for Gladys never could grasp satire. “But, you know, I think she has -nice manners, simple and not as if she thought of herself. And the -Hammonds and Floss Gilsey are more swollen than swell.” And with this -parting witticism, Gwen ran up the hall. - -“Jan, Jan, here are three girls come to call on you,” she said, putting -her lips to her cousin’s door. “Hurry up, and come down to see them.” - -Jan opened her door at once. She was writing a long letter home, and -her cheeks were too red to indicate perfect peace of mind. - -“I’ll just pumice-stone this ink stain off my finger,” she said, “and -then I’m ready. If ever I sympathized with any one, it was with Mr. -Boffin when he told John Rokesmith he didn’t see what he did with the -ink to keep so neat when he wrote. I’m ashamed of myself, and mamma -says I ought to be, but I can not keep my fingers--this middle one, -anyway--free from ink when I write. I guess I get so interested I -dive down to the bottom of the ink-well without knowing it. Who are -these girls?” As she had talked, Janet had scrubbed energetically, -and now turned to go down with Gwendoline, without any additional -prinking beyond a hasty smooth of her rebellious hair. Her dress was a -blue-serge skirt and a cotton shirt-waist, although it was October; it -never occurred to her, used as she was to seeing her girl friends in a -girlish manner, that anything more was required of her in the matter of -toilet. - -Gwen eyed her quizzically, thinking with amusement and annoyance -of what these would-be fine ladies down-stairs, who could not have -understood Jan’s reference to Dickens, would say if she let her go -down thus. It was dawning upon Gwen’s inquiring mind that many things -in the world were not quite as they should be, and that the scales -in which lots of people weighed other people and things were badly -weighted on one side. - -“I am afraid you will have to put on your bestest gown, Jan,” she said. -“They would probably drop dead if they saw you no more fixed up than -that, and it would be a nuisance to have to prove they weren’t murdered -here. Get out your finest things, and I’ll help you.” - -“My finest things aren’t fine enough to make much difference,” said -Jan, who had not had her own eyes shut to facts since she came. -“However, I’ll do my best not to disgrace you, Gwen.” - -Together they fastened Jan into the light-blue cashmere which her -mother had made for her to wear to possible children’s parties with her -cousins. Jan could not help smiling at herself in the glass, while Gwen -was buttoning up the waist in the back, remembering this, and what was -Gladys’s idea of a party, and how little she considered herself a child -at thirteen. - -“You really look like peaches and cream with that light blue against -your skin,” said Gwen admiringly when the task was completed. “They -can’t say you’re not awfully pretty.” - -“Don’t flatter, Gwen. And imagine a brown maid peaches and cream! Come -on, then. Have you any instructions to give as to manners?” asked Jan. - -“No,” said Gwen wisely. “Yours are always nice, because you’re so real -and unaffected--not that there’s the least hope of their knowing that -simplicity is nice, though.” - -“My cousin, Miss Howe; Miss Hammond, Miss Ida Hammond, Miss Gilsey,” -said Gladys, doing the honors with unusual dignity because she felt -sure it would be needed to cover Jan’s deficiencies in worldly -knowledge. - -Janet murmured her salutations confusedly, badly handicapped at the -start by the formality of so many “misses” when she expected to be -introduced all round by first names. - -“How do you like New York, Miss Howe?” asked Daisy Hammond, estimating -Jan’s gown rapidly but accurately. “It must be very different from the -West?” - -“Yes, but I like it,” said Jan warily. - -“New York is so much bigger,” added Ida Hammond, with a trying air of -superiority. - -“Than the West? Oh, no; the West is very large,” said Jan demurely, to -Gwen’s delight. - -“Are you fond of the theater, Miss Howe?” asked Flossie Gilsey, -throwing herself in the breach. - -“I never have been; we are going, Gwen says, sometime this winter. -But I love to act; we do plays in the barn chamber, my brothers and -sisters and I. It’s loads of fun. I’d love to see a real play, but it -costs too much to go to the city, and then buy tickets to the theatre,” -said honest Jan, quite unconscious of disgrace in the fact of poverty. -Gladys turned crimson as her ill-bred guests cleared their throats -emphatically and giggled a little. Gwen flushed wrathfully, but not at -Jan. - -“That is like Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy; do you remember what fun they had -acting in Little Women?” she asked tactfully. - -“It is so long since we read Little Women--not since we were children; -I don’t remember it very well,” said Daisy. “What do you like best, -Miss Howe? Dancing? Sport? What is your special line?” - -“The clothes-line, I guess,” said Jan, laughing outright, for it struck -her as ridiculous to be asked what was her specialty, “as if it was a -menagerie, and she wanted to know whether I was a long-necked giraffe -or a short-horned gnu,” she said afterward. “I help take in clothes -quite often. But I like all kinds of fun--dancing in the house in -winter; and games, and racing, and riding out of doors. I guess any -sort of fun--just having fun--is my special line.” - -Gladys only barely succeeded in checking the groan this horrible speech -called forth, but Gwen laughed openly. She did not think it quite -wise in Jan to have said that about taking in clothes, but she was so -indignant at the thinly veiled rudeness of the girls to her cousin and -the guest in her house that she did not care, as long as Jan had the -best of it. - -The callers rose to go, not being in the least certain whether they -were being made game of or not, but thoroughly satisfied that they -detested as much as they despised this Western girl, who looked at -them with smiling candor in her undeniably pretty eyes, and seemed -unconscious of offense. - -“You poor dear thing!” said Daisy Hammond in the hall to Gladys, having -bade Gwen and “Miss Howe” good-by in the parlor. “It is really awful -for you to have to civilize her! She is a perfect savage. Whatever will -you do with her when she comes to school? Do you suppose she has any -education at all? She certainly has no manners.” - -“Oh, I don’t know. Isn’t it awful?” said Gladys, tears of wrath and -self-pity in her eyes. “She hasn’t had any chance; that’s the only -excuse. For goodness’ sake, don’t tell the other girls!” - -“Tell them! My dear, not for worlds!” said Flossie, as they started -down the steps on their way to find the others of their set and impart -to them how “perfectly awful the Grahams’ cousin was.” - -Jan had wandered into the rear parlor when her first visitors had -left her, and so had not heard the remarks to Gladys, which had been -perfectly audible to Gwen. - -When she got her sister up-stairs that young lady freed her mind. - -“Gladys Graham,” she said, “you ought to be ashamed of yourself not to -stand up for your own cousin, and not to have any more self-respect -than to let those geese be impertinent to her and to us in our own -house! Jan didn’t do anything dreadful. She needn’t have said that -about the clothes, I’ll admit, but I suppose she was disgusted, and -well she might be. Besides, she’s the kind of girl that can’t help -seeing the funny side, but she isn’t one bit mean. Those girls acted -as if she were as far below them--as far as the sea-level from Mont -Blanc. And I only wish I could have boxed their ears. If you don’t stop -letting those Hammonds and Floss and that crowd impose on you, you’ll -be a goose all your days. Just you wait and see if you don’t find -out I’m right. I am just ashamed of you--helping them sit on papa’s -sister’s daughter!” - -Gladys flared up. “She’s perfectly disgraceful, that’s what Janet Howe -is! Saying she was too poor to go to the theater, and took in clothes! -I wonder she didn’t say she took in washing! Maybe they do, and the -ladies give her their old clothes,” she cried. - -“Gladys, stop this instant! I won’t let you talk that way. Jan’s a -trump, and I can see it if I do neglect her. I only wish we were as -nice as they all must be,” cried Gwen. - -“Well, if you like that sort of girl, you may have her. I won’t -take her out, and I won’t go anywhere with her, and I think papa is -downright mean to impair her on us,” Gladys sobbed. - -“If you mean _impose_, why don’t you say so? I honestly think we -are the ones whom Jan impairs,” said Gwen, restored to good-nature by -the chance to correct one of Gladys’s many slips of tongue. And thus -ended Jan’s introduction to New York society. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -“AND, SAVE HIS GOOD BROADSWORD, HE WEAPONS HAD NONE” - - -“Fine feathers” may not make “fine birds”; it is generally conceded -that true fineness lies somewhat deeper than the plumage, but fine -feathers have a marked effect on the minds of ordinary little birds -regarding the wearer of them; they have to be birds of considerable -experience or native refinement not to judge their fellow bipeds by -their plumage. - -When the results of Nurse Hummel’s many shopping expeditions with Janet -came home, and “Miss Lochinvar” appeared in the tasteful and well-made -apparel they had chosen, Gladys treated her cousin with new, if not -lasting, respect, and even Sydney showed by several surreptitious -glances at her, which keen-eyed Gwen intercepted, that he was realizing -for the first time that his quiet Western cousin was worth looking at. - -Gwen felt something of the pride of an architect in the building he has -created as she wheeled Jan around to view her from every point, and as -she saw that the others were newly inclined to admire the girl of whom -she was beginning to grow fond, and whom she would have loved dearly if -she had not been too self-centered just then to give any one very much -affection. - -Janet was ashamed to discover that she shrank with no little terror -from the ordeal of her first day at school. She felt quite sure -that the accomplished young ladies, of whom she had seen examples -and who were to be substituted for the girlish girls who had been -her classmates in Crescendo, would know so much more than she that -they would shame her in learning, as they outstripped her in worldly -knowledge. She saw from the first instant that she entered the door -that this school was to differ from her previous experiences in more -than its pupils. - -The Misses Larned, who were its principals--Gwen said that this did -not necessarily make them the girls’ _princibles_--did not teach; -they were at the head of the school by virtue of proprietorship, -and they were the final, awful tribunal before which transgressors -were haled, though, it must be confessed, without any more awful -consequences, usually, than a severe lecture. But the girls said “they -would rather die” than go up before the dignified sisters, “who were -so solemn they took the starch out of a body before they opened their -lips.” The same irreverent pupils called the school “the Hydra,” -because it had two of that monster’s many heads. No one would ever -know--none but the boldest dared speculate--what was the extent of -the Misses Larned’s own learning. They walked into the class-rooms at -intervals, and inquired of the presiding teachers as to the progress -of the day’s work with such Minerva-like air that one felt convinced -that the wisdom of the ancients and moderns sat enthroned behind their -sapient eyeglasses. - -They were wise in the selection of their teachers. “The Hydra” was -really a very good school in that respect, and the girl who desired -knowledge could obtain it there, and an excellent preparation for -college beyond. But she who had not this desire could slip through -with marvelously little instruction sticking to her brain, for it was -a school frequented chiefly by the children of wealthy and fashionable -people, and vigorous discipline would have been resented by the -majority of the parents. - -The school occupied an entire house on a cross-street, near the Park, -and Janet passed under its portals with trepidation on her first -morning. Gwen sustained her; Gladys had preceded them, and bore herself -with a little air of aloofness, in spite of Jan’s better appearance, -as if to provide herself against deeper disgrace than was absolutely -necessary, in case “Miss Lochinvar” fulfilled her apprehensions. - -It was not an easy matter to grade the new pupil. In arithmetic, -history, geography, spelling, and in general information her teachers -soon discovered that she far surpassed their old pupils, but she -was guiltless of French, though, on the other hand, she could speak -German--a point no girl in school ever aspired to reach. The extent of -the universal ambition in regard to that tongue was to avoid so many -mistakes in the gender and cases of nouns as should lead to a serious -lowering of averages in marking percentage at the end of the year. On -the whole, Janet passed her entrance examination with honor, and was -placed in the class with Gwen for everything but French, which she “had -to begin with the babies,” as Gladys disdainfully remarked. She was -uncertain whether to be relieved or annoyed that “Miss Lochinvar” had -been ranked with the best scholars, though Gladys’s ambition did not -lead studyward. - -A sudden rain prevented the customary brief walk in the Park at recess, -and the girls gathered in the large room on the upper floor, formed -by joining two rooms together, which was their refuge under such -circumstances. - -Gwen honestly meant to do her duty by Jan during this first recess, -when she was to meet her future mates, but she began to talk to Azucena -North, and quite forgot her cousin. Cena North was the daughter of a -lady who had been steeped in admiration for Verdi and Trovatore when -Cena was born; consequently she had named her baby after the gipsy -in that opera, and Cena pathetically said that “if she _must_ -be named out of Trovatore she didn’t see why she couldn’t have been -called Leonora.” Gwen didn’t see either; she privately pitied her -friend deeply for being burdened with such a name as Azucena. But there -were compensations, as there are in most misfortunes. Cena was one of -the best scholars at the Misses Larned’s, and her father was Mr. North, -the head of the great publishing house of North & Co., which Gwen felt -accounted for Cena’s thoroughness, as well as partly made up for her -name. Cena and Gwen were deep in a plan to lay before Mr. North Gwen’s -novel--when it should be finished, of course--without telling him that -it was the work of Cena’s classmate, a girl of fifteen. After he had -accepted it, and he and his house had exhausted themselves in praise of -its many brilliant qualities, Cena was to say demurely that she knew -the author, and would bring her to her father’s office. And Gwen was -to go with her--wearing her most simple and girlish gown, to increase -the dramatic effect--down to the great establishment of North & Co., -and Cena was to say, “Behold the new Charlotte Brontë!” or something -to that effect. It is no wonder with such a project in hand that Jan -slipped from Gwen’s mind when she and Cena collided in the “campus,” -as they classically called the playroom. They straightway became -oblivious to all but the discussion of ways and means for fulfilling -the great plan, which really lacked but the novel to be successful. - -Janet wandered on alone, feeling very shy and strange, among the -chattering crowd eating cake and candy instead of better luncheons, and -all eying her curiously as she passed. - -She was bearing down toward the younger children--her refuge here, as -at her uncle’s--when the Hammonds and Flossie Gilsey stopped her. - -“Have you forgotten us already, Miss Howe?” called Daisy Hammond. - -“No, indeed,” responded Janet, trying to speak easily and cordially. -“But please don’t say Miss Howe. It seems so funny among girls like us; -my name is Janet.” - -“Thanks; it is awfully good of you to let us be intimate right away, -and waive all ceremony. Generally we have to wait to use first names,” -said Daisy, with an inflection that told Jan, unused as she was to -polite disagreeables, that the speech was not meant at its face value. -“I heard that your cousin Syd--isn’t he too handsome?--had given you -such a nice, funny nickname.” - -“Yes; Miss Lochinvar. That’s because I ‘came out of the West,’ you -see,” said Janet, instinctively seizing her foe by the horns, so to -speak. “It was bright of him, but only too flattering. I don’t expect -to make a clean sweep of everything, like Young Lochinvar.” But as she -laughed Jan’s heart sank. She was not used to this sort of bad temper, -and she hated herself for meeting it while she felt forced to do so; -she understood “getting mad,” but not petty spite. And all the while -she was saying to herself, “Gladys told them; Gladys has been making -game of me.” - -But she had crippled her adversary; Daisy did not know how to meet this -view of the case, and she glanced slyly at Gladys, who shrugged her -shoulders. - -“How well you speak German, Miss--Janet!” said Flossie Gilsey. “Isn’t -it queer you know it so well, and don’t know French?” - -“Not at all queer,” said Janet simply. “I hadn’t much chance to learn -French, but there are lots of Germans in Crescendo. Besides, I like it -better than French, I’m certain. But the real reason why I know it is -because I worked hard to learn it. I meant to be able to speak it; I -wanted to be fit to help papa in his office.” - -A short silence fell on the little group at this shocking remark, -during which Gladys turned a succession of alarming colors, and longed -to go into hysterics or choke her cousin--probably both in rapid -sequence. Janet Howe, her father’s sister’s child, staying at her house -that winter, and brought by her and Gwen to this exclusive school, to -announce--shamelessly, brazenly, to announce--that her ambition was to -be a clerk in her father’s office, and that for this purpose she had -learned German! - -Poor Gladys really was to be pitied at that moment, for though she was -a little goose to feel so, she really did feel that a disgrace had -fallen upon her which death could hardly wipe out. And then the silence -was broken by a little titter from the three girls, and Ida Hammond -said sarcastically, “How nice!” - -Janet looked from Gladys’s party-colored countenance to the amusement -gleaming in the eyes of her friends, and saw that something was wrong, -but what it could be she had not the faintest idea. And before anything -worse could happen a voice behind her said: “Yes, isn’t that nice? -Isn’t it lovely? Please introduce me to your cousin, Gladys.” - -Janet turned and saw a girl who was in the class with her and Gwen. She -was tall, not pretty, but distinguished looking, with that air of good -breeding which is so definite, yet so indefinable--the look of one who -for many generations had inherited good principles and right standards -of living and taste. - -“My cousin, Janet Howe, Miss Dorothy Schuyler,” murmured Gladys. - -Dorothy put out her hand. “I am so glad to have you here, Janet,” she -said. “I was so much interested in what you were saying. There aren’t -many girls with enough affection for their fathers to study that they -may help them, and few clever enough to do it, even if they do want to. -Won’t you tell me about it?” - -There was a determined look in the brown eyes that smiled kindly, in -spite of it, on Jan, and she knew, though she did not know why, that -she was being championed. - -“There isn’t very much to tell,” she said slowly, responding in a -puzzled way to the other’s cordiality. “My father is in the real-estate -business out in the little place I came from--Crescendo. He has to deal -a good deal with Germans, and he hasn’t as big a business as he would -have in such a growing town if he weren’t working on a patent he wants -to bring out. So he needs me--or I liked to think he did--to help him, -and he needs some one to speak German, so I tried to combine the two. -Like the man in Pickwick who wrote about Chinese metaphysics,” added -Jan, with a sudden laugh, and the dimples that made her so irresistibly -pretty coming in her cheeks. - -Dorothy had a sense of humor, too, and she liked Dickens. She laughed, -and put an arm affectionately over the stranger’s shoulder. “I think it -is beautiful to find a girl of our age trying to do something loving -and sensible like that,” she said heartily. “I hope you can teach me -to be brave and unselfish. Wouldn’t you like to come over to that deep -window-seat and see the view--it is fine from there--and tell me more -about Crescendo? If Gladys can lend you to me a while?” she added -interrogatively. - -Gladys seemed to think that she could, and the two walked away, -followed by glances by no means pleasant from the group they had left. -In that first encounter were sown the seeds of future enmity, for the -Hammonds and Flossie disliked Janet as much as they would naturally -dislike one to whom they had been unkind, and who had thus been the -means of making them appear badly in the eyes of Dorothy Schuyler. - -When Gwen awakened from her day-dream to a consciousness of her neglect -of Janet, she stared in amazement at the sight of her cousin chattering -volubly to Dorothy, whose cheeks were red from laughing. Gwen drew a -sigh of relief; she saw that Jan was happy, and she knew Dorothy was so -innately well-bred that she would never misunderstand any confidences -Jan chose to make, as would the other sort of girls. - -Walking home at two o’clock, Janet told Gwen the story of her -adventures at recess--“recreation hour,” she found that she must learn -to call it. - -Gwen listened with frowns and smiles. “You will have to learn not to -tell that gang”--it is a melancholy fact that the budding author did -say “gang”--“anything about home, and being poor. They only draw you -out for pure meanness, and they don’t know anything but just money. -But wasn’t it fine of Dorothy Schuyler to squelch them like that? -Dolly Schuyler is the most a real lady of any girl in that school. She -doesn’t put on airs--of course not, if she is a lady--but she makes all -the girls feel that what she says and does is the very last, best thing -to be said or done. And she leads us all; not because she wants to, but -because she is what she is--all the girls look up to her. She wouldn’t -stoop to do an underhanded, sneaky, nor a mean thing--not if she got a -crown by doing it. She never says nasty things, but when she looks at -you--if you’ve been contemptible in any way--you can’t help curling up. -I’ve always been very proud that Dorothy seems to like me; she doesn’t -like every one. The Hammonds, and that crowd, pretend not to care for -what she thinks, because they’re richer than she is, but she is the -very concentrated extract of blue blood, and they do care a lot. If -there is any aristocracy in America, it’s people like Dorothy’s family.” - -“But there isn’t; papa says it is sheer nonsense to talk about -aristocracy in a republic,” said Jan, her independence touched. - -“All right; I don’t say it isn’t, so don’t wave the Stars and -Stripes at me,” said Gwen. “But if there is aristocracy, it must be -those people descended from the signers of the Declaration, and the -Revolutionary fighters, and the colonists, and all those. Why, you’re -descended from them yourself, so you needn’t fire up, Janet Howe.” - -“I don’t care; in the West we don’t fuss about trifles. Tell me about -Dorothy,” said Janet. - -“There isn’t much more to tell, and what there is you’ll find out for -yourself. But it was a big thing for Dorothy to champion you. You’ll -see that it will make a difference. Both ways,” added Gwen honestly, -“for it will make the Hammonds and Floss Gilsey hate you. I wish we -could put our heads together to get Gladys away from those girls. I -should think she’d know better than to like them, and they’re certain -sure to spoil her, if it keeps up.” - -“I’m afraid if I put my head into it she would go with them all the -more,” said Jan, with a hurt little laugh. “Gladys can’t bear me, Gwen.” - -“Gladys is a perfect goose; if she likes such girls as the Hammonds she -couldn’t be expected to like you. But just you wait. She’ll come round. -Those girls are sure to do something mean to her some day--they’re -so jealous of everybody, and I’m proud to say they just hate me. And -as to you, nobody could help liking you sooner or later, Jan. You’re -a regular dear!” and Gwen kissed her cousin on the front steps, -moved with compunction for the neglect which had exposed her to her -unpleasant experience at noon, admiration of the generosity which did -not resent it, and pride in the little Lochinvar out of the West whom -Dorothy Schuyler had sealed with her approval. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -“HE RODE ALL UNARM’D, AND HE RODE ALL ALONE” - - -One day was very like another in the first two weeks of Janet’s new -school life. The teachers soon liked the sunny girl with the ready -dimples and readier wit, joined with honest industry and determination -to learn. The girls--the best girls--liked Jan at once, but the little -knot of companions whom Gwen had disrespectfully called “that gang” -disliked her every day a little more than the previous one, and chiefly -because of the liking of the better faction. Gladys--and this was -what made the attitude of these girls hard to bear--Gladys arrayed -herself with them, and showed positive dislike to “Miss Lochinvar,” who -certainly did not deserve it at her hands. - -At home, after school, during the five hours between its dismissal -and dinner time, life was a trifle dreary, or would have been but -for Jack, Viva, and Jerry. Gwen thoughtlessly, in spite of her liking -for Jan, betook herself to her own pursuits. Sydney did not seem like -part of the family at all, but rather like some one who was fortunate -enough to have secured an unusually well-appointed lodging-house and -restaurant. He came and went unnoted, to Jan’s amazed distress. She had -heard so much said by her father and mother of the necessity of keeping -close to their boys and making home pleasant to them that motherly -little Jan quite yearned over the handsome lad who had no one to see -that he kept straight. She longed to make friends with him; a longing -intensified by her intimacy with her own elder brother, Fred, whom she -missed more than any of the children she had left behind her, unless it -was the baby, Poppet. But though Sydney was perfectly polite to Jan, -he made no recognition of her overtures of friendship, and, it seemed -to his cousin, grew more indifferent to his surroundings, and more -heavy-browed at each succeeding dinner. - -Mrs. Graham soon got over her annoyance at Janet’s coming, and was -always pleasant, pretty, and kindly, but not less busy than at first. -As the autumn advanced into winter she was more deeply engulfed in -engagements than ever, and Jan shared her children’s lack of their -mother’s society. Unfortunately, with her aunt’s displeasure at her -coming had disappeared her uncle’s pleasure in receiving his favorite -sister’s child, and Jan quite longed for another of the evenings with -him, such as she had tasted on her arrival a month ago. - -Every afternoon when she came home from school--except on the -afternoon of the dancing-class--Jan went into the nursery and sat -down with Hummie, Jack, Viva, and the baby--who would have resented -the title. Jack found the steep hill of learning which--to speak -metaphorically--had so winded him turned into “the primrose path of -dalliance” by this pretty cousin, who was so honest that she would not -do his tasks for him, yet so clear-headed that she turned them into -positive joys. Then she told the jolliest stories of the doings of -her brothers and sisters, whom Jack burned to know, considering them -more attractive than any youngsters he had had the luck to meet with, -either in or out of a book, and whose feats filled him with envious -admiration. Peals of laughter floated down the hall frequently during -these hours--laughter which reached Gwen in her shrine of genius, and -sometimes brought her out to share the fun. Gwen was surprised to find -herself half jealous of the children’s love which Jan had won in a -short month, and which she had missed because she had never thought -about them at all. She sometimes felt quite shut out and hurt when she -saw how the faces of the three youngest brightened at the sight of Jan -and heard the whoop of delight with which they welcomed her. - -Quiet little Viva found that Jan knew ways of playing housekeeping -which her own naturally domestic little brain could not have devised, -and that she could dress dolls, and play with them, too, as no one--not -only her own sisters, but her friends--could begin to hope to do. And -she could tell stories, not only the funny stories of life in Crescendo -and the Howes’ frolics, but the fairy-tales which Viva preferred, in a -way that would make the lady who told stories in the Arabian Nights’ -green with envy. Viva loved Jan with a sort of dumb adoration. She -was a sensitive little creature, and Jan had come into her solitude -like sunshine. As to Jerry, she adopted Jan--whom she called “Yan” -with a pure Norwegian pronunciation--as her own property, and loved -her with tumultuous affection. Jerry had grown so well-behaved in the -dining-room--never tipping over her oatmeal spoon, still less kicking -“Tsusan”--that her father and mother wondered at the reform. They did -not know that if “Yan” lifted her eyebrows in shocked surprise at the -dawn of naughtiness in the wilful tot, Miss Geraldine immediately -resumed the behavior which should make “Yan” show her dimples in -smiling at her, for “Yan’s” dimples had become Jerry’s barometer, and -she could not exist if their absence indicated disapproval. - -It was fortunate for Janet that she was so sincerely fond of younger -children and that her little cousins did cling to her with such -devotion, for without their love she would have had many lonely hours -and would have found the atmosphere of the splendid home she had come -to too frigid for happiness. - -Helen Watterson was to give a party, and the school was stirred by -the announcement. Not only did Helen live in a house so large that -her party was sure to be an event, but she had announced it as a -“fagot party,” and all the girls invited protested that they could -never, never fulfil its requirements. These requirements were for each -guest to bring a fagot of wood--and “fagot” could be interpreted very -liberally to mean anything from a few toothpicks bound together to a -large bundle of real sticks. These fagots were to be laid in turn on -the open fire, and while his fagot was burning each guest must tell a -story. - -The Grahams, Gwen, Gladys, and Janet Howe, were invited, as well as -most of the girls of their age at “the Hydra.” Gwen felt no uneasiness -as to her powers in the story-telling line, nor did Jan, though she -was rather frightened at the thought of lifting up her voice in such -an august assembly, but Gladys was dismayed, and declared, without -meaning it, that she would not go if she had to tell a story, but would -plead some excuse at the last moment. As it happened, it was Gwen, who -longed to go, that pleaded the excuse at the last moment, a painfully -real excuse, for she had a bad sore throat, and could not leave her -room. Jan begged to be allowed to stay at home with her, partly through -kindness to the cousin whom she really loved, and partly from a strong -preference for doing so, for the prospect of going to a party without -Gwen and with Gladys was worse than going alone. But Gwen would not -hear of Jan’s staying behind. - -“It will be the nicest party, I’m sure, Jan,” she said, “and I wouldn’t -have you miss it. Besides, it is really the first affair we’ve been -asked to since you came, so it will be your introduction to New York -society. And another ‘besides’ is that I shall want to hear all about -it, every story repeated, and everything, and Gladys never would tell -me one thing.” - -“I don’t feel as though I could go with Gladys, Gwen,” Jan said -involuntarily. “She does dislike me so, and it makes me more awkward -and scared than ever.” - -“Don’t pay the slightest attention to her,” said Gwen, looking -wrathfully at Jan over the red-flannel swathings of her throat--Hummie -always insisted on the efficacy of that color for such purposes. “After -you leave the dressing-room you keep with Dorothy Schuyler and Cena -North. They’ve got sense enough to appreciate you! And they’re my -friends. You’ll have a good time, because there’ll be plenty of good -times there to have, and when there are, you don’t miss them.” - -Gwen, with mistaken zeal, made a few vigorous remarks to Gladys before -they set forth, telling her what she thought of her slighting Jan, and -bidding her be nice to her at the party, under threat of wrath to come. -The result of this well-meant interference was that Gladys sulked, -settling herself in her corner of the carriage without speaking to Jan -during the drive. After they arrived she compelled Susan to arrange -her hair and dress first, and she then left the dressing-room without -waiting for Jan, who had to find her way, frightened and hurt, to the -parlors alone. - -“Isn’t Gwen coming?” asked Dorothy Schuyler, standing near their -hostess, when Gladys entered. - -“Gwen has a sore throat. She’s dreadfully disappointed. She cared more -about coming than I did,” said Gladys. - -“And Jan wouldn’t leave her, I suppose?” suggested Dorothy. - -“Oh, Jan is here. She is coming right down,” said Gladys, trying to -speak easily. - -Dorothy gave her one of the glances which Gwen had said “made you -curl up,” and went swiftly into the hall. Here she found Jan coming -hesitatingly down-stairs through the group of boys lounging part way -up, waiting for “the party to begin.” They all stared at Jan, glad -of something prettier to look at than one another, for, though some -of them were already young dandies, most of them despised the stiff -costume to which even the younger lord of creation is condemned at -festivities, and were wondering, each individually, if he “looked as -big a fool in his stiff collar as the other fellows did.” - -Jan gave a sigh of relief as she caught sight of Dorothy. It seemed to -her that she could not enter that crowded room alone. Dorothy noticed -with pleasure that Jan looked very charming in soft, delicate green, -which gave her, with her brown eyes and hair, the effect of some -sylvan creature. - -It was not so very bad after all to get to her hostess and make her -salutations now that kind Dorothy was at her elbow, and when the ordeal -was over Jan turned to enjoying herself with her tendency to make the -best of things. - -There was to be dancing after supper, but first the young guests -grouped themselves around the open fire for the fagot burning and -story-telling. Dorothy began, and told a pretty legend of Brittany, -not long, but much longer than Daisy Hammond’s, who had brought a -tiny bundle of three lightest twigs, and related a tragic tale in two -stanzas of “nonsense rhymes.” - -When it came Jan’s turn she found to her horror that the story which -she had so carefully learned and rehearsed with Gwen had slipped from -her as completely as if she had never heard it. “What shall I do?” she -whispered to Dorothy. “I have forgotten my story!” - -[Illustration: The story-telling party.] - -“Make up another. Tell us something you have seen or done in the West,” -said Dorothy. “It will probably be much more interesting, so don’t -worry.” - -“I have forgotten the story I meant to tell,” Jan began in a faint -voice as she laid her fagot on the fire. “I think maybe I could -remember it if only I could get hold of the beginning. But Dorothy -Schuyler says I had better tell you something true that happened at -home, so I am going to tell you about a cyclone we had once, and I’ve -got to hurry, or my wood will be gone. There was a family living -outside of Crescendo, about a couple of miles out, and they had come -there from the frontier, and twenty-five years before the day of the -cyclone they had lost one of their children--the oldest boy--out in -the territory; he was stolen by Indians. They hunted everywhere and as -hard as they could for him, but they never found him, so they thought -he must be dead, and they moved into Kansas, and settled in Crescendo, -and had ever so many other children, and were quite happy, though they -never forgot that lost boy. They didn’t get on so very well--didn’t -make much money, I mean, so mamma and papa tried to help them. They -couldn’t very much, because we have such lots of children and not much -money. But one day there came up a storm, and papa ran around making -everything tight and getting all our children in, for he said it was -going to be a windstorm, and that scares us out there--we’ve seen them!” - -Jan had forgotten her shyness, and was becoming dramatic as the -recollection of the fatal day came over her. She leaned forward, her -elbows on her knees, her eyes fastened on her burning fagot, with the -light playing over her earnest face. - -“Well, it came. The sky got all over a dreadful yellow, and it was so -dark we lighted up like night. Mamma was baking and I was sweeping and -dusting--I know I thought it was lucky my head was tied up, for it -seemed as though it might blow off. The wind roared and rushed past us, -and branches of fruit-trees and heavy things came banging up against -the house--oh, it was awful! But we didn’t get the worst of it inside -the town. Outside, where this family lived, it was the very middle of -the cloud, and it took the roof off, and it blew down the barn, and -the neighbor’s house blew over and part of it struck theirs--and--oh, -dear, oh, dear! I can’t bear to think of it!” Jan hid her face in her -hands a moment, shuddering, and her audience sat silently waiting for -her to go on. - -“The wall fell in and it buried all that family under it, for they -were all huddled together--they hadn’t any cyclone cellar. It was the -first time a cyclone had ever struck Crescendo. And when the storm -had passed--it was all over in fifteen minutes--they went out to that -house and they found them dead, all dead, except the baby, and he was -crying and pulling at his mother’s dress.” Jan’s voice quivered so that -she had to wait another moment, and no one noticed that her fagot was -burned out. - -“And when they got there,” Jan went on, “there was a young man standing -among the ruins whom the people who came to help had never seen before. -Would you believe it? It was that oldest son whom they had lost! He -had found out who he was and had traced his parents, and had come to -Kansas after them, and had reached Crescendo just in time to find them -dead in the ruins of their home. And there was not one left but the -little crying baby and the oldest son--they were all gone! I took off -my sweeping dress, and mamma left her baking, and we went out there. We -brought the baby home with us--he was just Poppet’s age--until after -the funeral. Then the young man took him, and they went away together, -the oldest and the youngest, and we have never seen either of them in -Crescendo again.” - -After a complete silence of a few minutes, more flattering than -applause, the applause for Jan’s tragic story burst forth from every -pair of hands. It was the success of the evening, but to Gladys it was -a success worse than failure. The confession that Jan and her mother -had been busied with housework at the time of the tragedy added the -story to the long list of disgraceful disclosures Jan was forever -making. - -But the other guests at the party did not seem to consider Jan’s little -tale a blot upon her credit--_they_ could afford to admire it, -Gladys thought bitterly; she was not _their_ cousin! Girls and -boys crowded around Jan to congratulate her, till poor Jan hardly knew -where to look. She was already the heroine of the evening, but one -thing more raised her into a heroine indeed, though it ended the party -for her and Gladys. - -The last fagot was on the fire, and Helen Watterson leaned forward with -the tongs to adjust it as it burned. She wore floating tarlatan over -her pink-silk skirt, and as she reached for the falling fagot the draft -from the chimney sucked her dress into the fireplace, and instantly the -gauzy stuff blazed up. - -Her guests fell back screaming, but Jan sprang forward, gathered up -the overdress in her hands, crumpling it together, and extinguishing -the flames before there was the slightest danger of injury to Helen. -Probably there had not been very great danger, for the flimsy stuff -would very likely have been consumed before it could ignite the rest of -her garments, but none the less, Jan had done a brave deed, and at the -cost of painful burns on her own hands. - -Mrs. Watterson took her away to be coddled and bandaged, amid a murmur -of admiration from the guests she left behind her. When the poor little -brown hands were thoroughly wrapped in oil and cotton a carriage was -called, and Susan put Jan into it, while Gladys followed, angry at -being obliged to miss the dancing, angry with herself for her bad -temper, angriest of all with Jan for proving her so wrong, yet swelling -with pride that her cousin had saved Helen’s life--for Gladys would not -regard the event as less than life-saving. The drive back was as silent -as had been the drive to the party. Jan was in too much pain, Gladys in -too perturbed a state of mind for speech. - -As Susan helped Jan from the carriage, a forlorn, hungry, sick-looking -little tiger cat ran mewing toward her, and then scuttled away, as one -who had no reason to count on the human kindness it implored. - -“Oh, that poor, poor, dear little cat!” cried Jan, who loved dumb -beasts tenderly. “Can’t I take it in, Gladys?” - -“Oh, Miss Janet, it’s that forlorn and miserable, you don’t want it!” -protested Susan. - -“Yes, I do; that’s why I want it!” cried Jan. “Do you think your mother -would care? I’ve missed my animals so dreadfully, Gladys!” she pleaded. - -“You know mamma never cares what we do as long as we are satisfied,” -said Gladys ungraciously. - -Jan waited for no further permission. With her bandaged hands, and with -the blandishments of a voice used to conversing with our little kindred -who can not reply--not in the same tongue at least--Jan contrived -to catch the frightened little waif who stood in such sore need of -kindness. - -Clasping him to her breast, in spite of bandages, and disregarding -possible mud on the white paws, Jan returned, damaged, excited, but, on -the whole, happy, from her first party. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -“OH, COME YE IN PEACE HERE, OR COME YE IN WAR?” - - -After the party and Jan’s accident there were seven days of uneventful, -shut-in life, which were both pleasant and unpleasant. Jan could not go -to school, for her hands were very painful, and holding a book would be -quite out of the question. - -Gwen was well and out again in a day, but she devoted her afternoons to -Jan, going over their lessons with her, that she might keep up with the -class, and entertaining her the rest of the time. The girls in school -showed a tendency to make a heroine of Jan, who refused to be lionized; -Dorothy, Cena, and Helen Watterson came, separately or together, nearly -every afternoon to see her, and the teachers sent messages of sympathy -and pride in her courage to her, whom they called “their brave little -Janet.” - -Sydney hailed her on the day after her adventure with a cordial smile -and a tone which she had never heard him use to any one. He liked -pluck, and it struck him suddenly that the girl whom he had dubbed -“Miss Lochinvar” had been showing it, in one form or another, ever -since her arrival. - -“I hear you have been making a burnt offering of yourself, Miss Jan,” -he said. “Don’t do too much of that sort of thing, because it would be -a pity to have you burned up altogether.” - -Jan was so pleased at this advance from Sydney that she built upon -it great hopes of real friendship between them, but though Sydney -never relapsed into his perfect indifference of manner toward her, -they did not get beyond this slight break in the ice. Gladys alone -stood completely aloof. She was a very unhappy Gladys in these days, -and heartily wished that she had not taken the attitude toward her -cousin which she now felt called upon to maintain. Pride kept her from -admitting that she was in the wrong, and stubbornness toward Gwen, and -a deep-seated objection to seeming to admit her authority, made her -ten times worse than she might have been without these inducements to -bad behavior. Gwen found out from Jan how Gladys had treated her at -the party. Jan did not mean to tell, but in saying how good Dorothy -Schuyler had been to her, she found that she had blundered into -betrayal of Gladys’s neglect. - -Gwen was very angry. Not only was her sense of justice and liking for -Jan in arms, but had not she, Gwendoline, Gladys’s elder and talented -sister, warned Gladys that night before setting forth that she must not -treat their cousin badly? - -“I don’t want to be a tell-tale, Gladys, and I’m not the sort to run -to papa with things, any more than he is one to bother with them, but -you know what he said about sending you to boarding-school if you -dared be rude to Janet when he had invited her here! Now, you just -keep it up as you’ve been doing, and I’ll have to go to him, and tell -him how perfectly horrid you are to her--and she so sweet and dear, -and everybody that is anybody admiring her like everything!” said Gwen -sternly. - -“You can tell him anything you please,” said Gladys furiously, “but I -won’t have anything to do with Janet, and nobody can make me! You can’t -say I treat her badly if I let her entirely alone!” - -So Gladys withdrew herself from her sister’s society, since it involved -Jan’s, and was more than ever with her objectionable friends, by way of -defying Gwen and proving her independence; though the only thing she -succeeded in proving thoroughly was proved to herself, and that was -that she was very miserable and ashamed of herself. - -“I am driving Gladys away,” said Jan forlornly to Gwen one day. “You -are never together, and it’s all my fault. I sometimes wish I had never -come to New York.” - -“Don’t worry, Jan. Gladys and I were never friends,” said Gwen lightly. -Then seeing Jan’s shocked expression, she added: “Not that we were -enemies, you know. What I mean is we never were chums. We always liked -different things and people. It might as well be you we differ about as -anything else. It isn’t you who have done it.” - -“But she is with the Hammonds all the time--more than when I first -came, and you never liked that,” objected Jan. - -“Probably it is all for the best. I should think that would be the best -way to cure her of liking them,” laughed Gwen. “Don’t worry, Jan. You -can’t make everybody alike.” - -With which bit of philosophy Jan had to try to satisfy herself. - -The kitten she had rescued on her return from the party was showing -gratifying results of her care. After he had had the mud sponged from -his fur--a task performed by Gwen, since Jan was unable to do it--he -had displayed a pretty coat of black stripes on a brownish ground, with -snowy breast and paws, and a nice face, which Jan convulsed Gwen and -Jack by pronouncing “grave and sweet in expression,” though there was -no denying that this was true when she had pointed out the fact. - -He had been some one’s pet, for his manners were quite elegant, and he -had been taught to jump through hands, and to eat like a Turveydrop of -deportment. But Jan did not call him Turveydrop, as Gwen wanted her -to. She named him Tommy Traddles, after the cheerful youth of whom -she was very fond, and he became the greatest addition to the little -exile’s comfort. Tommy Traddles required convincing that each other -member of the family individually meant well by him, for he had been so -frightened during his days of wandering and hardship that he distrusted -every one, but Jan he loved from the first. He had a shocking cough and -bad indigestion from exposure and lack of food, but Jan cured the one -with cod-liver oil and the other by careful feeding, and Tommy Traddles -came out as good as new. It seemed to Jan, when he sat purring in her -sunny chamber window, with the broad middle stripe of his back getting -more glossy before her eyes, that she had not had a moment of home -feeling until her dear cat came. - -One day when it had been raining heavily, and a cold had kept Jack -at home from school, Jan sat in Gwen’s room listening to the first -chapters--three were now written--of the novel which she, quite as -implicitly as Gwen, believed that North & Co would jump at the chance -to publish as soon as Cena North laid it before her father. - -Jack was restless. His cold was just bad enough not to risk going out -with it, but not bad enough to subdue his spirits. Gwen lost patience -at last with his constant popping in and out of her room and snapped -him up. - -“Ivan Graham,” she cried, “if you don’t keep out of here, I’ll make -you! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of me, like -a sneak, just because my lock is broken! Aren’t boys a nuisance, Jan?” - -“No, but their noise is sometimes,” smiled Jan, with a warning shake of -the head at Jack. - -The warning came too late. Jan had never seen an exhibition of her -little cousin’s temper, though she had been informed more than once -that “Jack was a terror when he broke loose.” He “broke loose” now, -and Jan saw the suitability of the expression, for he was like a young -wildcat. - -“I’m not a sneak! I’ll teach you to call me a sneak!” he shrieked, -throwing himself on Gwen with such violence that she staggered halfway -across the room. “I’ll show you! I’ll show you!” Apparently Jack meant -that he would show his sister how he could use his fists, for he was -pummeling her black and blue, and Jan’s bandaged hands prevented her -going to Gwen’s rescue. - -But Gwen had had sorry experience with ungoverned temper from her -earliest days. She caught Jack deftly at last, pinioned his arms, and -bore him--for she was a tall, strong girl--half dragging him, half -carrying him, to Hummie for punishment, though he kicked and fought all -the way. - -“Isn’t he a cherub?” asked Gwen, returning triumphant, but short of -breath. - -“It’s awful!” cried Jan, who had been quite frightened during the -tussle. “If some one doesn’t teach him to control that temper he may -do something he’ll be sorry for all his life. And he really is a dear -little fellow--so warm-hearted and generous!” - -“Oh, those tornadoes are always warm-hearted and generous, if they -feel pleasant,” said Gwen. “I think I like less generosity and fewer -kicks. I shall be black and blue for a week. Don’t your brothers have -tantrums?” - -“Yes, but we always try not to stir up the quick ones, and when they -get into a fit of temper we try to cool them down--we have what we call -the Rescue League, you know--mamma founded it--and we pledge ourselves -to rescue one another from our foes--inside ourselves, of course. It -really is fun, and more like a play than anything goody-goody. Then if -mamma is around when one of us gets mad, she takes that one by the hand -and leads him off--sometimes it’s a her, you know--it has been me--been -I--and soothes him all down and talks quietly, and we come back feeling -as if we had had a bath--a bath for our minds.” Janet’s eyes had grown -dim as she talked. The little plain home looked so lovely and peaceful -as she recalled it! - -Gwen was silent, and at this moment Susan offered Jan a letter. - -“Oh, it’s from mamma!” she cried. “Please open it for me, Gwen. And lay -it on my lap where I can read it.” - -Gwen obeyed, but the attempt at reading was not successful. The pages -slipped and Jan’s fingers were not free to hold them. - -“You would rather not have me read it to you?” asked Gwen. “Do you -think it’s secrets?” - -“No, but I do love to read mamma’s letters myself,” sighed Jan. “Thank -you, Gwen. Please take it.” - -Gwen did as she was bidden, and read: - - “MY DEAREST LITTLE JANET-GIRL: It is really several days - since I wrote you, but papa and Fred have written, and there wasn’t - any news. Only that there are five more citizens of Crescendo - than there were last week--four are kittens--nice little Maltese - and white things, belonging to Madam Puff--and one a calf, the - long-legged daughter of Mrs. Cusha. I am so glad that my little - girl is not getting too fond of luxury to want to see her plain - home again! They are very good to you at Uncle Howard’s, and it was - beautiful in him to fit you out as prettily as his own daughters, - so that you should not be mortified nor mortify them when you - appear together. By and by you will see more of Aunt Tina, I am - sure. She must be fond of all those dear children, of course. [Here - Jan began to blush furiously, but Gwen only elevated her eyebrows - and went on reading with increasing interest as she caught sight of - her own name farther down the page.] And though it is delightful - for you to see so much of the tiny ones, and have them love you - so dearly, I am especially glad that you like Gwen, and that she - seems to like you, for I feel sure she is a noble girl, as well - as a clever one, and I always wanted Howard’s oldest daughter and - my oldest girl to be friends, as we were, he and I, years ago. - And no, dear, you certainly must not mind Gladys’s dislike too - much, nor even feel sure it is dislike, because one is likely to - get the kind of treatment one expects. I am as sorry as I can be - that she apparently despises poverty. Of course that is nonsense. - Rich people are not better than poor ones, nor are poor people - better than rich ones. It all depends how one meets and uses his - opportunities, and money or its lack is an accident. Rich people - are tempted to be hard and selfish, but, on the other hand, poor - people are tempted to be envious and jealous. ‘The betwixt and - between’ folk have the best of it, for they are not so strongly - tempted either way. Still, they often get dissatisfied with - enough. Agur was very wise when he prayed to be given ‘neither - poverty nor riches.’ I am sorry as I can be that my poor little - niece is so worldly, but I hope she will learn better when she is a - little older. If she doesn’t she will have some hard lessons, for - worldly people are taught very sharply how vain are the things upon - which they have set their hearts, and no one with false ambitions - is ever happy. But if little Jan doesn’t get worldly, I can not - care as much as I should about any one else. I was so afraid, so - dreadfully afraid, to put my single-hearted girl among things which - could never be hers--afraid I should spoil her content and her - unconsciousness of differences, which really are imaginary and do - not matter at all. Go your ways, my Jan, like an honest, simple - little girl, and do not be other than your true, good little self. - It grieves me to think that any one in my brother’s house--much - more one of his children--should not be quite kind to Jan, but I - feel sure you will win Gladys by and by, if you are patient. The - greatest English writer after Shakespeare--to my thinking, at - least--said that the world was a looking-glass, reflecting our own - expression toward it. And he was perfectly right. So smile away, - Janet, and by and by all your little world will smile at you. All - the children and your father send kisses enough to take your breath - away. And so does she who loves you a little more than any one else - can love you, and who prays ‘that God will keep you so pure, and - true, and fair.’ You remember our favorite song? - - “Your loving and only mother, - “JENNIE GRAHAM HOWE.” - -To Jan’s surprise and dismay, Gwen sprang up after reading this -letter, which Jan would not have allowed her to see for the world if -she had known that it was going to reflect her own comments on her -surroundings, and threw herself on the bed, sobbing as though her heart -would break. “Why, Gwen, why, dear Gwen, don’t!” cried Jan, clasping -her cousin in her wounded arms. “I didn’t mean anything about Gladys! -I’m so sorry you read it! But it really wasn’t anything bad I said!” - -“Oh, it’s not that. I don’t care what you said--Gladys is a pig!” -sobbed Gwen. “It’s because Aunt Jennie is so awfully, beautifully -dear! And because--because--O Janet Howe, you don’t deserve credit. -You ought to be a nice girl!” And puzzled Jan agreed with her, as she -stroked her hair in wondering silence. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -“HE STAYED NOT FOR BRAKE AND HE STOPPED NOT FOR STONE” - - -Gwen and Jan, with Gladys accompanying them protestingly, and with an -air suggestive of being about to walk on the other side of the street, -were on their way home from school. Except for a slight tenderness -lingering about her reddened palms, Jan’s hands were healed, and she -had resumed her former life, very glad to get back to the world of -fresh air and sunshine. It was late November, and the air around the -park was full of suggestions of country odors--the sunshine soft and -warm through the haze overlapping from Indian summer. - -There were rumors afloat of great events to come, events of absorbing -interest to all the young people. First of all, Sydney’s school was to -have a tournament at Thanksgiving, in which not only were there to be -races--foot and bicycle races--and wrestling matches, and jumping, as -in most schoolboy tournaments, but there were to be tennis-matches, -singles and doubles, and in the latter girls were to compete, the lads -being allowed to ask sisters or friends to play with them. Sydney had -very little to do with the girls of his household, but when the hour -came that he was to strive with his mates for honor and prizes family -pride stirred, and Gwen and Gladys were profoundly interested. They -were to go to see the games, and Gwen, at least, who was fonder of -sports than Gladys, wished with all her heart that Sydney would ask her -to play the tennis-match with him. She felt quite certain that with a -little practise she could hold her own against her adversaries. Jan -kept discreetly the secret that she had been champion of the girls’ -singles at home, but though it never occurred to her to wish for the -impossible--that Sydney might ask her to play with him--she was very -much excited at the prospect of the games, and nervously reiterated -that “she was sure Sydney would win.” And more thrilling, though less -definite, was the rumor, gaining force every day, that something -splendid and unusual was to take place at “the Hydra” in celebration -of the Christmas holidays, and though there was no possibility of an -answer, each girl asked every other girl daily what she _did_ -suppose it would be, and if they thought everybody would take part. - -It was this indefinitely glorious prospect which Gwen and Jan were -discussing volubly as they walked home in the soft November sunshine, -Gladys occasionally adding a word from inability to maintain perfect -silence. - -There was a knot of men and boys gathered ahead of them, and Jan -quickened her pace. She was so constituted that she could not see such -a gathering without her first thought being that perhaps some one was -maltreating a helpless animal, and her quick impulse was to fly to the -rescue. As the three girls came nearer they saw that this time what -Jan feared was really happening. A poor little dog, hair matted and -body thin, was in a convulsion on the sidewalk, and the crowd, with the -usual stupid terror in such a gathering of an animal showing symptoms -of sickness, was kicking the poor little creature from side to side, as -he staggered about blindly, instinctively trying to get somewhere, but -with no power in his tortured brain to select that somewhere. - -“Put him in the gutter!” cried a voice, its owner evidently having a -vague recollection that water was the proper treatment for spasms. A -rough hand caught the dog by the tail and threw him into the gutter, -still wet from flushing the street from the hydrant. The bewildered -creature staggered to his feet and essayed to escape from the puddle -into which he had fallen, but the heavy boot of a laborer kicked him -back. - -Jan saw no more--indeed she had not stood seeing all this, but had -witnessed the torture in agony as she and Gwen approached. - -Dropping her books without looking to see where they fell, she started -on a dead run for the group ahead of her. Her hat flew off, her hair -began to break its bounds, but Jan did not think of appearances just -then. Like a young Valkyrie she swept down on the amazed men and boys, -who fell back before the vigor and suddenness of her onslaught, as -human beings generally give away to some one wholly in earnest. - -“You brutes! You cruel, cruel, stupid men!” cried the clear young -voice, shaking with rage and tears. “To treat a little, tiny dog like -that! Don’t you see he’s sick? I only hope giants will come and torture -you the next time you’re sick! Give me that dog.” - -“He’s mad, miss,” said the big workman who had given the last blow. - -“He’s nothing of the sort. He’s in a fit, and he ought to be perfectly -quiet! I tell you, let me get him!” cried Jan. - -The unfortunate little victim of this stupidity and brutality had -lain motionless for the last moment, and Jan bent over him tenderly. -“Dear little dog,” she said, “let me take you.” The brown eyes, full -of misery and pain--for he had recovered consciousness and was coming -out of the spasm--were raised to the pitiful face above him, and, -recognizing that at last here was one human being who had mercy, the -poor dry little tongue came out in an effort to lap the quivering chin, -just out of reach. - -Taking care to keep her hands away from the dog’s teeth, which might -close on them in pain and with no intent to bite, Jan raised the -helpless creature in her arms. One leg hung limp, and the dog moaned. - -“You have broken his leg!” cried Jan, turning indignantly on the crowd. -“Oh, how can you call yourselves human beings and treat a little, dumb, -helpless thing like that? They haven’t any one but us to help them! The -next time you see a dog sick that way lay him where he’s quiet and wet -his head, and don’t, don’t ever hurt him! He’s just had a spasm, and -now you’ve broken his leg!” - -[Illustration: “You brutes! To treat a little dog like that!”] - -The men began to mutter, but several looked heartily ashamed of -themselves. Some boys jeered at Jan, but she paid no attention. Turning -to Gwen, who had come up, she looked at her and down at the dog in her -arms, totally unable to speak. - -Gwen was not less distressed than Jan. She did not even see that the -little yellow body was dripping mud on the front of Jan’s dress. “We -must take him to a doctor, Jan,” she said. “You are an old trump to -drive down on the crowd like that! I always want to do something, but I -don’t quite dare.” - -“It isn’t daring. I don’t stop to dare--I rush,” said Jan. “Where is a -dog-doctor, and how shall we go?” - -Gladys stood afar, witnessing this incident with unspeakable horror. -A girl to rush madly down on a crowd like that, harangue them, and -take up a muddy, mongrel cur in broad daylight, and on Fifth Avenue! -And Gwen, not much better, to follow her! She picked up Jan’s books as -if they had been dynamite, and walked away with her head in the air, -too disgusted for adequate expression. Jan was a gipsy. She certainly -looked like one, with her hat off and her hair frowzy--reddish hair, -too! Gladys had not noticed before how red the brown was in the -sunshine. - -But if Gladys was repelled and offended anew by Jan’s quixotic -behavior, there was another member of the house of Graham who, unseen, -viewed the incident with different eyes and feelings. Sydney, also just -returning from school, had seen Jan sweep down on the men and boys, -scattering them before her, and rescue the dog by sheer force of will -and justice, and, seeing, he had been warmed into generous enthusiasm -and admiration, for Sydney was a manly boy, and he loved animals. - -Now he hastened to his cousin’s and his sister’s support. “Good for -you, Jan!” he cried. “You’re a regular knight without fear and without -reproach.” - -Gwen and Jan looked up in amazement. Could this be Sydney? The color -had mounted high in his cheeks, his eyes were flashing, his lips -smiling. There was not a trace of the sullenness and reserve Jan had -thought the only manner she should ever see in her oldest cousin, as he -took off his cap in exaggerated, yet sincere deference, and held out a -congratulatory hand. - -“How is the poor little beggar? What an outrage! They’ve broken his -leg! Bad enough to have a fit without being kicked and punched! A crowd -makes me so mad I could knock all the heads together! It always thinks -every half-starved beast has hydrophobia, and then to make sure there -is something wrong, proceeds to stick and stone it. I’m proud of you, -Jan! It’s great to see a girl who doesn’t stop to curl her hair when -there’s something to be done! Gracious! You came down like a wolf on -the fold--the Assyrian isn’t in it with you! What are we going to do -with your find? I hate to chloroform him.” - -“Oh, can’t we cure him?” asked Jan pathetically. - -“I can’t set legs, but I shouldn’t wonder if we could pull him through. -What about lunch?” asked Sydney. - -“Oh, I don’t care about any lunch!” cried Jan eagerly. “It would be -cruel to make him wait with his leg broken. Tell me how to get to the -doctor, and I’ll take him there.” - -“Have you the price of a hansom, Gwen? I’m broke--as usual,” said -Sydney, his face clouding. “If you’ve any change I’ll go with Jan and -the dog down to the doctor.” - -“Here’s my purse,” said Gwen. “There are two dollars in it and some -small change. I’d just as lief go, if you’re hungry, Syd.” - -“Hungry! Of course, but it’s my business to protect Janet. Hi, there, -cabby!” And Sydney hailed a cab a little farther up the avenue, which -rattled down on them at once. - -“Pile in, Lochinvar. You deserve your name,” cried Sydney. And Jan -obeyed, wondering if she were dreaming, and if this offhand, genial boy -could be morose Sydney. - -“Poor little doglums!” Sydney went on. “You hold him well, Jan. Say, -why aren’t more girls like you? You’re straight girl, ready to cry -over that dog this minute--I’m no end sorry for him, but I don’t feel -teary. And you hold him as if he were your youngest child, and you had -taken care of six of his brothers before him. Now that’s girl for you! -Yet you don’t care a bent copper for what any one thinks, and you make -yourself look like a tramp--hair flying, hat off, books any old place, -and you get mud on your dress from the poor beggar, and you drive -down Fifth Avenue, and it never crosses your mind to consider whether -you look respectable or not. You burst through a tough crowd without -fear of it, or of comment. And all that’s not only straight boy, but -it’s a mighty decent sort of fellow at that. I never saw a girl like -you--you’re the right stuff, Miss Lochinvar, and I didn’t know how -appropriate the name was when I christened you.” - -“I’ve been brought up with boys--Fred’s your age, and we’re chums--and -then there are all the others,” stammered Jan, hardly knowing how to -receive this outburst of most acceptable compliments. “I guess there -are lots of girls like me, if you know them. Gwen’s the right sort, -too, and Dorothy Schuyler, and I know ever so many at home.” - -“Gwen’s well enough,” said Sydney, with brotherly indifference. “I -don’t know Dorothy Schuyler. Gladys makes me very weary. I wonder if -she’s going to come this airy-fairy business all her days? Here’s the -doctor’s. Give me the patient while you get out.” - -“I’m afraid to move him for fear it will hurt him. I’ll get out without -taking hold--I don’t need my hands,” said Jan. But Sydney steadied her -elbow, and she thanked him with a bright smile. - -The doctor was at home, fortunately. He was one who loved his -profession and loved his patients. He handled the little waif the -children had brought to him as tenderly as he would have touched -the best-blooded dog, strapping him down carefully, and setting the -broken leg expeditiously and successfully. As he worked he heard the -story of the dog’s rescue through Jan’s wild onslaught, and he smiled -approvingly at the girl who loved those whom the gentle saint of Assisi -called “our little brothers,” and who dared for their sake. When the -work was done he refused his fee, saying that he was glad to contribute -his skill to the little dog who had fared ill at the hands of men. - -“Are you going to keep him?” asked the doctor. - -Jan referred the question to Sydney with a glance that betrayed her -longing to do so. - -“Oh, yes. We’re going to keep him, and put flesh on these poor ribs of -his. And we ought to call him Andromeda, because Janet here rescued him -from the dragon,” said Sydney. - -“But Andromeda was a beautiful girl,” objected Jan. - -“Well, Andromedus, then--Drom for short. I’m sure his state was rocky -enough to make it appropriate on that count,” laughed Sydney. “Good-by, -doctor. We’re no end obliged. You think the poor fellow will pull -through?” - -“I’m sure of it, with your care,” said the doctor, holding the door -for his visitors to depart, and watching them down the stairs. He liked -the frank, warm-hearted pair immensely. - -“Goodness, Sydney, it’s three--ten minutes past!” exclaimed Jan, -glancing at the clock on the Grand Central Station. - -“I don’t mind. Gwen will have luncheon saved for us--she’s a good -fellow when there’s question of helping beasties,” said Sydney. “And -I’m rather pleased to have made your acquaintance, Miss Lochinvar--the -real Miss Lochinvar.” - -“I’ve been just dying to know you, Syd. I miss Fred so dreadfully,” -said Jan, smiling with irrepressible joy. “I think we might have real -good times--” She stopped abruptly. - -“Say, Jan,” said Sydney, not noticing her embarrassment. “You can run -like a spider and you have courage and quick wit. Can you play tennis?” - -“Why, I was girl champion at home!” cried Jan, blushing. - -And Sydney slapped his leg, whistling with surprised pleasure. “The -very thing!” he cried. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -“‘THEY’LL HAVE FLEET STEEDS THAT FOLLOW,’ QUOTH YOUNG LOCHINVAR” - - -The third floor suddenly became to Jan quite as familiar as the second, -which Gwen had informed her on her arrival was disrespectfully dubbed -by Sydney “the hennery.” Her first visit daily on her return from -school and numerous ones from that time until she went to bed were -made to poor little yellow Drom, her and Sydney’s interesting patient. -“Patient” the little dog certainly was in both senses. It is doubtful -if either of the other denizens of that floor of the house would have -borne affliction so sweetly, and as a reward for the meekness which -submitted to bandages and splints with only grateful kisses for the -hands which reluctantly hurt, and for lying motionless through the long -hours, the broken leg set fast and the obtruding ribs disappeared under -flesh. - -More than Drom’s broken bones were knitted during those days. Sydney -never fell back into his disregard of “Miss Lochinvar,” and, united in -their nursing and pride in their patient’s progress, the cousins became -real friends. - -At times there were glimpses of something in Sydney which Jan did not -understand, but which vaguely troubled her, but it was never coolness -toward her. On the contrary, she could not help fancying that the -taciturn boy was glad of the affection she gave him, and found girlish -sympathy very acceptable. In her loyal little heart Jan resolved never -to rest until she had brought Gwen into this pleasant comradeship, -feeling quite sure that Sydney would enjoy his clever, big-hearted -sister as much as she would enjoy him, if only they might make each -other’s acquaintance. - -In the meantime a wonderful thing happened. Sydney asked Jan to play -with him in the tennis tournament, and “Miss Lochinvar” was not less -frightened than elated over the honor. - -Syd had taken her out to the courts to practise, and was delighted with -her swift underhand serve as much as with her sure returns and expert -volleying, in which she seemed to be all over the court at the same -time. It proved to be a “court” in another sense to the pretty girl, -for she instantly became a prime favorite with the players, not only -with the boys, who pronounced her “great,” but with the girls. These -were not pupils of “the Hydra,” but another set and kind. Jan found -them pleasanter, as a whole. They were frank, jolly, natural young -creatures, such as the boys would be likely to choose to play with them -when the choice was left them. They all declared that they had not a -ghost of a chance playing against Jan, and the boys announced that -“Graham had a cinch, with that cousin of his to back him.” But though -the boyish slang made her feel more at home than she had since leaving -her brothers, it could not set Jan’s mind at rest. She found herself -starting up out of her sleep at imaginary calls of “Play!” and once -served a dream ball with such a thump of her hand against the nursery -wall that Jerry awoke screaming, and Hummie hastened in, feeling sure -nothing less than fire was the matter. - -There was not much time for practise. Sydney laughed at Jan for wishing -they had longer to get used to each other’s methods, but could not help -realizing that victory would have been more assured if they had played -together more. It would never do, however, to let Jan lose confidence. -At the best, Sydney had little faith in “girls’ nerve.” - -On the day before the games, which were to be held on the first Tuesday -after Thanksgiving, Jan played so badly that Sydney was seriously -alarmed. She seemed nothing but a bundle of nervousness, serving weakly -or else beyond the bounds, receiving uncertainly, and acquitting -herself generally as badly as possible. Jan came home profoundly cast -down. - -“Don’t be discouraged, Syd,” she said, though she needed cheering more -than her partner. “You know I can play a decent game, and I often go to -pieces beforehand, but pull together again when the time comes. Maybe -I’ll be all right to-morrow.” - -“Of course. I know how that is,” said Sydney lightly. “You’re all -right, and I wish I was as sure of everything I wanted as I am of -winning to-morrow. You had your funk out to-day. To-morrow you’ll be -right on deck when the umpire calls time.” - -Jan went slowly up-stairs, hoping this was to prove true. Her spirits -rose considerably at the sight that met her eyes when she opened her -chamber door. There on the bed lay a tennis dress of which any one -might be proud. It was beautiful broadcloth, rich, warm red in color, -with tiny bands of black fur around the short skirt and perfectly -defining the fine lines of the short jacket which surmounted the -delicate tucked white-silk shirt-waist. But most bewitching of all was -the cap of the crimson cloth, with its outlining of black fur and its -single black quill bidding defiance to the world in its saucy setting -on the left side. Jan promptly donned the cap, admiring the effect in -her glass, which told her that she had never worn anything so becoming, -and resolving to do or die, to live up to her costume. She would not -be one of those girls whom the Crescendo boys despised, whose skill in -tennis consisted solely in selecting a gorgeous sash and knotting it -gracefully. They had had an axiom at home that the better the sash the -worse the playing. - -Jan, concluding that Gwen had been at the bottom of her welcome gift, -went to find and thank her. She learned to her surprise that her aunt -had designed and ordered the costume, wishing that her boy should have -not only the most skilful partner, but the prettiest one, and with -this discovery Jan made another, which was that her busy aunt had -unsuspected pride and affection for her eldest born. - -The entire family, with the exception of Mr. Graham and Jerry, went out -to the games on the following day. The sun was warm, but the air cool; -there was not much wind. Altogether it was a day which justified the -wisdom of holding games so late in the season. - -Most of the big girls from the Misses Larned’s were in the grand stand, -interested from more or less personal connection with the contestants, -and filling the place with gay colors, lively chatter, and candy odors. - -The races preceded the tennis, as did the wrestling. Sydney was not -among the wrestlers, but he ran and jumped, and the Graham party -nearly fell over the rail in its enthusiasm as he came in first in the -foot-races and when he marched up to the judges’ stand later to have -the first medal for the race and the second medal for the standing jump -fastened on the breast of his white sweater. - -“Isn’t he gloriously handsome?” whispered Mrs. Graham in Jan’s ready -ear. “There isn’t a boy here to compare with him! I am proud of my -beautiful boy and my clever Gwen, Janet, and I sometimes think I love -them more than all the others put together.” - -Jan felt the injustice of these words, although she realized that the -pride of the hour might have made her aunt exaggerate her partiality. -But as she looked at Sydney she felt that they were almost to be -excused. With his face flushed, his head thrown back, his lips proudly -smiling, and his straight young form drawn up to its fullest height, -showing his fine muscles at their best, Sydney Graham was a son to -glory in, and Jan clapped her loudest, feeling that her big cousin was -very dear to her, too, and that she was grateful to Drom for being the -link that had drawn them together. - -The time for the tennis had come, and Jan rose in her seat to make -her way through the crowd down to the courts. She heard but faintly -the clapping of hands with which her school friends sped her, but she -heard as distinctly as if a megaphone had shouted the hateful words, -Daisy Hammond’s whisper to Flossie Gilsey: “Look at the Wild West -Show! I suppose she thinks she’ll paint this town red to match her own -war-paint.” - -A little righteous indignation often does wonders. Jan had risen with -her heart in her rubber-soled shoes. As she heard Daisy’s ugly, vulgar -speech her nerves suddenly steadied, and with a profound contempt -for the speaker came a resolution to show these girls that she could -excel them in sport as easily as she could not help knowing that she -surpassed them in class. - -Sydney met her at the foot of the stairs, and he read the steady light -in her eyes and the firm curl of her lips aright, and with unspeakable -relief saw that Janet could be relied on. - -“O Sydney, we are all so proud of you!” cried Jan, saluting her cousin -with a wave of her racket in her left hand and a tight clasp of his -hand with the right one. “No, you mustn’t take my racket. It is part -of my costume! Don’t you see that Aunt Tina had a cover for it made to -match my dress?” - -“You certainly are a picture,” said Sydney, “and I’m proud of you! -Shall we let them score a few points?” - -“Just a few, to add to the interest,” laughed Jan. “But ‘“they’ll have -fleet steeds that follow,” quoth young Lochinvar.’” - -Sydney echoed her laugh with a mind at rest, and the cousins stepped -out on the hard clay court. - -They found that their opponents were in fine form. Jan and Sydney -fought hard, but do what they would they could not keep them from -getting the winning ten after they had held them tied at “forty all” -some exciting minutes. - -But the second game Sydney and Janet won, and took their places ready -to make the third theirs by any heroic effort. Unfortunately the -boy and girl opposing them were of the stuff that soldiers are made -from--or rather fortunately, for Syd and Jan wanted to win gloriously. -But they had hard work to win at all. Once more the game halted at -“forty all,” and the ball was volleyed back and forth without pausing, -each side and both partners of each side playing nobly. Once Sydney -played a back stroke that nearly settled it, but the girl across the -net saved the day, and immediately on the ball’s return her partner -gave a swift cut that made it skim the net and fly out to the right -corner of the service-line. With a bound Jan pursued it. It had been -a clever stroke, for neither she nor Syd was near that spot at the -moment. How she got there Jan did not know, but get there she did, and, -swinging her racket without more than time for instinctive planning, -she smashed the ball, and it crossed the net, barely clearing it, sped -close to the ground out to the outer court of their opponents, and -stopped before either raised racket could get down to its level or -either player on the opposite side could pursue the ball. A ringing -cheer announced the game won and Jan the victor. Sydney shook her -violently by both hands, while cries of: “Well played!” “Splendid!” -“What a stroke!” fell on the ears of happy “Miss Lochinvar.” - -[Illustration: A ringing cheer announced Jan the victor.] - -“It was the prettiest sight I ever saw,” said Mrs. Graham, kissing -Jan on her return, and more inclined to regard the affair as a -spectacle than a sport. “You are sweet in that crimson, Janet, and -Sydney is delicious! I am so proud of you both!” - -Gwen hugged her cousin breathless, Jack and Viva trying vainly to -get at her the while. Even Gladys was swept away by the glory to her -family, to which for the first time Jan had contributed, into something -like cordiality toward “Miss Lochinvar.” All the girls Jan liked at the -Misses Larned’s congratulated her jubilantly, and the other faction was -forced into silence. Altogether Jan enjoyed a little triumph, and came -home blissful, to dream of the theater-party to which Mrs. Graham was -to take her, Gwen, Gladys, Sydney, his most intimate chum, and Dorothy -Schuyler, in celebration of the victory, on the following day. - -It was the more shocking that she ran up the stairs later to visit -Drom, full of these anticipations for Jan to find Sydney with his head -bowed on his arms across his table and to meet the tragic face which he -raised as he tried to smile at her. - -“Why, Sydney, what has happened?” she cried, standing still on the -threshold and paying no attention to Drom’s cordial greeting. - -“Nothing,” said Sydney. “I--perhaps I ran too hard. I don’t feel quite -well. How are you after our victory?” He tried to speak easily, but Jan -was too well versed in boys’ ways to be deceived. - -“You’re in a scrape, Syd,” she said decidedly, entering and shutting -the door behind her with a discretion Sydney admired even then. “Won’t -you tell me what it is? Or have you told your mother?” - -“My mother! No, I guess not,” said Sydney. “I’d be sorry to tell -her--if I were in a scrape,” he added, realizing his indirect admission. - -“Then tell me,” said Jan, sitting down at the other side of the table -with an air that suggested not rising again until she had been told. -“Two heads are better than one, and you can trust me.” - -“Well, I’m in debt,” said Sydney, yielding at once, glad, perhaps, to -share a burden that had been oppressive for some time. “And the fellow -writes to say he won’t wait any longer. If I don’t pay up he’ll go to -my father. I can’t pay up, so I suppose there’s no help for it, and -he’ll have to go.” - -“In debt!” Jan exclaimed, her voice low and horror-stricken. “O Syd, -that’s awful! What will uncle do if that man goes to him? Who is the -man, anyway? Tell me more.” - -“He’ll raise the roof, as to father’s part of it, and very likely send -me off to boarding-school,” said Sydney, flushing. “The man, as you -call him, is a shopkeeper who likes to get the fellows at our school -to buy things on tick from him, if he knows there is some one at home -who will pay in case they don’t. He even offers to lend us money and -put it on the books and not charge any interest. He’s a scamp to do it, -and I know it, but I’ve been fool enough--and scamp enough, too--to get -things charged and to borrow a little now and then, thinking I could -pay up myself. Well, I can’t, and now I’ve got to face the music. It -serves me right, but that doesn’t make me enjoy myself any better.” - -“O Syd, how could you?” said Jan, who had been brought up to regard -debt with horror, and whose father might have to deny his children -luxury, but by practise and precept he taught them to live within their -means. - -“Now, you needn’t lecture,” said Sydney, who found the pained and -disappointed look in the brown eyes opposite to him hard to meet. “I -know all you can say about its being wrong, but I did it, and there you -are! Five dollars a month isn’t much allowance, and that’s all I get.” - -“Five dollars! Every month, and to spend on yourself?” cried Jan, to -whom this seemed a fortune. - -“Oh, you little goose!” said Sydney, almost ready to laugh at her -simplicity. “What do you suppose that is among the boys I go with? But -don’t you worry. I’m sorry I told.” - -“Do you think it would be right to pay this man and not let Uncle -Howard know?” said conscientious Jan. “You see, Sydney, I think fathers -and mothers ought to be told things.” - -“Don’t you think it makes a difference whether it would do harm -or good?” asked Sydney. “Father would be angry and send me off, -and I can’t see what good that would do. He is too busy to try to -understand. And I’ve had enough of it. If I could pay up now I would -keep clear of this sort of thing forever. It has worried me ever since -September.” - -Jan was thinking rapidly as Sydney spoke, and it seemed to her loving -heart like sealing the boy’s fate to send him away from home, where it -was her favorite dream to root him more closely. So she said: “I will -lend you money, Syd. I have some that papa gave me to buy Christmas -gifts for the children, but you can pay it back, perhaps, before then. -It’s five dollars. Do you need so much?” - -Sydney laughed outright, though it was a melancholy and kindly laugh. -“Five dollars, you blessed innocent!” he said. “It is about a tenth of -what I owe.” - -Jan gasped. “Gwen has money saved,” she said with a sudden inspiration. -“Tell her. She’ll be glad to help you out. And it will make you better -friends,” she added in her thoughts. - -“Indeed I won’t tell Gwen,” cried Sydney. “I’ll tell you what I will -do. I’ll borrow your five and try to get him to take it on account, and -wait before he tells father.” - -“And then, if I were you, I’d try to earn the money to pay up,” cried -Jan, with another inspiration. - -“How could I?” asked Sydney. - -“Errands after school, work in some store--lots of ways, if you mean -it,” said Jan, springing to her feet in her earnestness. - -“Gentlemen don’t do those things, Jan,” said Sydney. “Would you like to -see me an errand-boy?” - -“I’d rather see you anything than dishonorable,” said Jan hotly. -“_Gentlemen_ don’t borrow and spend money they can’t pay back.” - -“That’s it! Go ahead! Hit a man when he’s down!” said Sydney bitterly. -“That’s the girl of it! I thought you were a square fellow, Janet.” - -“Oh, please forgive me, Syd,” cried Jan, repentant. “I didn’t mean to -say anything like that! I know you are honorable and are sorry for -doing wrong, and I’ll do anything in the world to help you. But I hate -to hear you talking like a fop and not seeing where the real disgrace -would be. I’d be prouder of you if you joined the street-cleaning -department than I would to see you getting mixed up in your ideas of -honesty.” - -Sydney laughed again. “All right, Miss Lochinvar,” he said -good-naturedly. “You are somewhat mixed up in your speech, it strikes -me. I accept your apology, and I’ll admit you are right in your ideas, -if you want me to. And I’ll accept your five dollars, too, if you’ll -lend it to me. And I won’t forget that you stood by me as well as you -could. Perhaps I’ll pull through with this help.” - -Janet could not help seeing that Sydney was too ready to throw off his -burden in the relief of temporary relaxing of the pressure. She wished -with all her heart that she was old enough and wise enough to help her -cousin in the ways in which he needed help most. But it was something -that he trusted her with his secret and accepted aid from her. - -“I’ll run and get the money now, Syd,” she said. “I wish I wasn’t poor, -for your sake. But think it over and see if you can’t earn some money. -It would be so much more manly and fine than getting it from Uncle -Howard or counting on presents. And fair, too, because you would be -setting your own wrong-doing right.” - -“All right, Miss Lochinvar, I’ll think,” said Sydney. “You’re a pretty -good sort of fellow not to scold me harder and to be ready to hold out -your hand to a sinner. I won’t forget it of you, Jan.” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -“FOR A LAGGARD IN LOVE AND A DASTARD IN WAR” - - -It seemed to Jan that each day was full of happenings of late. She was -so much interested and had become so much a part of the life around her -that she had not time to be homesick any more. First of all, there was -Sydney and his affairs, which troubled her, though he had told her that -her five dollars had purchased him temporary relief, and that he was -considering ways of taking her advice and of earning money after school -hours with which to pay his indebtedness. - -And, strangely enough, there was Gladys, though nothing had seemed -less likely than that this particular cousin should ever engross Jan’s -thoughts. - -The vague rumors floating about the Misses Larned’s school of great -things to be done at Christmas had crystallized into the delightfully -definite announcement that the girls were to give a play. And these -thrilling tidings were followed by the still more exciting news that -Gladys had been chosen for the principal part--that of an unfortunate -princess, who, at the end of the play, came into her own again--from -which Gwen, whose talent exceeded her sister’s, was excluded because of -her height. The secret leaked out that the only competitor with Gladys -in the minds of the teachers who made the cast was Daisy Hammond, and -it did not tend to soothe the feelings of that young lady, already -deeply chagrined that Gladys had been preferred to her. But she did -not allow her wounded vanity to make any difference in her friendship -for Gladys, treating her with more rather than less affection during -these trying days, a fact to which Gladys triumphantly called Gwen’s -attention as “perfectly sweet and dear of Daisy.” - -There came a day--a dreadful day--however, less than a week after the -matter of the distribution of the parts had been settled when the elder -Miss Larned--and the more awful Miss Larned, if there were degrees in -the awe-inspiring qualities of the sisters--came into the class-room -and announced that for reasons into which it was not necessary to -enter, but which were deemed quite sufficient by the faculty, the -principal part in the Christmas play had been transferred from Miss -Gladys Graham to Miss Daisy Hammond. Miss Gladys, she added, had been -assigned the rôle of second court lady. - -There was a silence more profound than mere absence of speech as this -announcement fell on the ears of the first class, and it realized what -it meant. “Second court lady!” Why, it was only a “thinking part,” a -mere figure which trailed in and out, swelling the number of attendants -on the principals in the play! What could have happened? For evidently -this was a punishment inflicted upon Gladys, but for what? All eyes -turned upon the deposed princess, who sat staring at the desk whence -her sentence had proceeded, turning rapidly every shade and color of -which the human countenance is capable, tears starting to her eyes, -her lips quivering, but with such a look of blank amazement visible -through her grief that most of her mates decided on the spot that -whatever might be wrong Gladys was as ignorant of it as they were. -Daisy Hammond’s face wore a look of gentle commiseration and regret, -combined with wonder. She kept looking toward Gladys and raising her -eyebrows inquiringly, while she shook her head in a vaguely expressive -manner. As soon as recess came a buzz of voices rose on every side, and -all the girls rushed to Gladys to ask what she had done to offend Miss -Larned and receive such a crushing blow. They found Daisy Hammond with -her arms around her friend, begging her to tell her what had happened -to make Miss Larned do “such a horrid, horrid thing,” and assuring her -that she would not “think of playing a part which had been taken from -darling Gladys.” - -“There hasn’t the least bit of a thing happened,” Gladys said in reply -to the chorus of inquiries. “I don’t know anything more about it than -you do. But I don’t care. If they want Daisy to play the princess, let -her play it. The only thing I hate is being disgraced like this before -the whole school, all for nothing.” - -“Go to Miss Larned and ask her why she has changed her mind,” advised -Dorothy Schuyler. “Tell her we all think she is offended with you, and -you think so, too, and tell her you aren’t asking to be given the part, -but you do ask for a chance to defend yourself if she thinks you have -done wrong.” - -“That’s the thing to do, Glad,” said Gwen decidedly. “Come on. I’ll go -with you, and if she isn’t fair to you I’ll throw up my part, and so -will Jan.” - -An irrepressible gleam of triumph which shot across Daisy Hammond’s -face before she could repress it, and a quick glance between her and -Ida Hammond and Flossie Gilsey, did not escape the keen eyes of “Miss -Lochinvar,” whose suspicions were alert. Nor was she less sure that she -had seen the glance when Flossie Gilsey said sweetly: “You won’t spoil -the play, Gwen! You know no one could take your place.” - -This was strictly true, for Gwen had real dramatic talent and had been -given a rôle requiring more acting than that of the heroine, for she -was the leader of the princess’s enemies and had some telling lines and -situations. - -“I certainly shall not care about spoiling the play, even if my getting -out of it did spoil it, if my sister is unjustly treated,” said Gwen. -“Come on, Gladys. We’ll let you know, girls, what Miss Larned says.” - -The Grahams came back before many minutes, Gladys in tears, Gwen with -a flushed and angry face. “She won’t explain one bit,” said Gwen. “She -says it is a matter of which the least said the sooner it’s mended. -She insists that Gladys understands, and she says that is all that is -necessary.” - -“But you don’t understand, Gladys?” asked Cena North. - -Gladys gave her head a despairing shake. “Not any more than you do--not -any more than if I had just landed from China and couldn’t speak a word -of English,” she said. “I do think it is the meanest thing!” - -The summons to return to the class-room came at that moment, as a -corroborative murmur arose on all sides. - -“Did you tell her you wouldn’t act?” whispered Daisy Hammond to -Gwen. But Gwen shook her head. “I said nothing about any one but -Gladys--_yet_,” she replied. Gwen, like Jan, was suspicious of -treachery. - -Gladys was escorted home by the sympathizing trio with whom she -most consorted, but Gwen and Jan walked home together, holding an -indignation meeting as they walked. - -“Those Hammonds are as sweet as pie to Glad, but I wouldn’t trust -them,” Gwen said. “Daisy Hammond was wild to be the princess, and she -knew if Gladys could be got out of it she would be put in, for she was -second choice for the part in the first place. I’m just certain that -crowd is at the bottom of it!” - -“So am I,” Jan agreed. “Let’s try to find out what they’ve done and -straighten it out! It’s a perfect shame not to give a girl a chance to -explain. I’m so sorry for Gladys! I’ll never rest till it’s made right.” - -“What a trump you are, Jan,” said Gwen, stopping short to gaze -admiringly at her cousin. “You never bear the least grudge. Glad has -been perfectly nasty to you often, and now she’s in trouble you’d do -anything to pull her through!” - -Jan colored. “I’m not a saint, Gwen,” she said. “I don’t enjoy being -snubbed, but I think it’s mean and low to try to get square with -people. If you can’t fight a thing out at the time, drop it, I say. I -just despise people who keep up and keep up and dwell on fusses--even -if they were in the right in the first place that puts them in the -wrong, to my way of thinking. I don’t believe that’s goodness in me. -I do so hate such petty ways of quarreling. I’d feel low and ill-bred -if I remembered rows and waited a chance to get square. However, as -to Gladys, I don’t want to get square with her. I’ve been sorry she -didn’t like me, but I don’t feel any spite toward her. Besides, she’s -my cousin, my blessed mother’s own niece, and your sister, and Syd’s -sister, and the sister of all of you, and it would be a queer thing if -I wouldn’t stand by my own cousin.” - -Gwen, remembering how she had scolded Gladys for not standing by this -very “own cousin” of hers, still thought it fine in Jan to be so -generous, but she continued her way without further expression of that -opinion, resuming her animated discussion of Gladys’s wrongs. - -That afternoon Gwen and Jan went to see the Misses Larned in the -freedom of hours out of school. They intended firmly, though -respectfully to decline to appear in the play if their teachers -persisted in refusing to allow Gladys opportunity of clearing herself -of whatever she might be accused. - -Jan’s part was insignificant, for she was not suspected of histrionic -ability, nor was her experience in acting in the barn in distant -Crescendo known to “the Hydra’s” heads, but Gwen was a loss which -threatened the play with disaster, and Miss Larned--the elder and the -only one whom the girls found at home--stooped from her dignified -height to expostulate with her. - -“It is quite natural and in one sense laudable that you should espouse -Gladys’s cause, Gwendoline,” she said. “But I assure you, you are -mistaken in so doing. We are justified in making the change that has -been made, and we are acting kindly in making it with no complaint of -Gladys--merely making it. Gladys understands perfectly why it is done, -and you should trust us--trust me, in fact--sufficiently to assume that -I am acting wisely.” - -“Miss Larned,” said Gwen, trying to control the wrath this stately -speech aroused, but betraying it in her heightened color, “you think -you are acting wisely, but I think--we all think--you are dreadfully -mistaken. As to Gladys’s knowing what all this is about, I was with her -when she solemnly told you that she did not know. Gladys has plenty of -faults, but in all the fourteen years of her life I never knew her to -tell an untruth if you asked her anything straight out, as you did this -morning. When Gladys says she doesn’t know, _she doesn’t know_. -And if it comes to trusting any one, I must trust my own sister’s word -when I know I can. If Gladys was untruthful I would be fair enough to -own it--to myself, anyway--and keep still. But lying is not a Graham -fault, and I know Gladys is in the dark about what makes you take her -part from her. And I want to ask you if you think it is fair to condemn -any one without a hearing?” - -“I can not allow you to question my judgment, Gwendoline,” said Miss -Larned. “The matter is closed.” - -“Very well. Then I must ask to be excused from taking any part in the -play, Miss Larned,” said Gwen rising, with hardly less dignity than -Miss Larned herself. - -“Gwendoline, you will put us to serious inconvenience. There is no one -in the school competent to act the part assigned you save yourself,” -said Miss Larned. “You should have the success of the play, the honor -of your school, when strangers will come to witness your efforts, -sufficiently at heart to sacrifice something for it.” - -“I have the honor of my sister a little nearer my heart than the honor -of the school, Miss Larned,” said Gwen. “I care more what people think -of Gladys than what they think of the acting, though I would have -worked hard to make that play go. But as to any one taking my place, -my Cousin Janet here has been trying my part at home and she acts it -better than I do. She has acted a great deal before she came to New -York. She could do it, if she would. I certainly must resign it under -the circumstances.” - -Jan looked at Gwen in surprise at this suggestion, not guessing that it -was a bit of pure malice, intended to heighten Miss Larned’s regret. - -That lady turned to Jan graciously. “Janet an actress!” she exclaimed. -“I am surprised. Though Janet has shown such admirable scholarship -since we had the pleasure of receiving her into our care, I do not know -why I should wonder at discovering this accomplishment to be hers. -Then, my child, if your cousin persists in her refusal to listen to -reason, and to injure herself and us for her sister’s sake, I will give -her part to you, if you are as capable of performing it as she thinks -you.” - -“Thank you, Miss Larned,” said Jan hastily, “but I wouldn’t take it for -the world. I feel just as Gwen does about Gladys--of course, because -an own cousin is the very next thing to your sister--and I must give -up even the little part in the play which I have already learned. I -wouldn’t take part in it for anything unless Gladys has a chance to -clear herself of whatever you think she has done and is proved guilty. -Neither Gwen nor I would take her part if she deserved punishment. We -only want you, please, to let her know what she is accused of.” - -“I have told you that she already knows. If she does not choose to tell -you, that is her own affair. I must wish you good-day, young ladies. -I really have no time to waste on arguments with my pupils.” And Miss -Larned made them a curt bow of dismissal and sailed from the room, -leaving them to find their way out as they could. She was not dull -enough to fail to perceive that Gwen had suggested Jan’s acting merely -for the pleasure of hearing the girl refuse to accept the part. - -With this small satisfaction to comfort her, Gwen returned slowly -with Jan to her home. It was maddening to feel that the Christmas -festivities were to end in disgrace to Gladys, loss of her own part in -the play, which Gwen could not help knowing she could act well, and -universal discomfort. And still less endurable was the situation to -both Gwen and Jan that they felt convinced that Gladys’s friends had -acted treacherously toward her and that they were powerless to prove -their theory or bring about justice. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -“THERE NEVER WAS KNIGHT LIKE THE YOUNG LOCHINVAR” - - -The days that followed Gladys’s downfall were far from pleasant at -school. Gladys was miserable, Gwen and Jan indignant, and their -classmates divided into two camps, of which the larger was strongly -partisan of the Grahams, but the second sided against them or “didn’t -know.” The play, recast and with an incompetent girl in Gwen’s -place, went badly at its rehearsals, and the Misses Larned were as -cool to Gwen, who was responsible--or whom they chose to consider -responsible--for its disaster as they dared be to one of two valuable -pupils who had two more sisters at home growing up to scholar’s estate. -Gladys had been with difficulty persuaded by Gwen and Jan to keep -the story of her wrongs a secret at home until later. These would-be -detectives hoped to discover the cause of Miss Larned’s injustice, -and they knew that if Mrs. Graham learned of her daughter’s treatment -she would demand instant reparation or take her from school, and the -mystery would remain a mystery to the end. But at the close of the -third day Gwen and Jan were no nearer its solution, and Gladys was -passionately declaring that she couldn’t and wouldn’t keep the secret -any longer. She knew, she said, that her mother “would take her away -from the horrid old Hydra if she heard how she had been treated, and -for her part she did not think any one with any self-respect ought to -be willing to have her stay--much less try to keep her there.” - -Just as Gladys was on the eve of becoming utterly unmanageable, chance -put the clue to the affair into Jan’s hands, or perhaps it was good -fairies, approving her unselfish desire to help her cousin, forgetful -of Gladys’s many unkindnesses to her. - -Three of the teachers were standing in the hall at noon as Jan came -down it. She had no thought of approaching unseen or unheard, but it -happened that the day was dark and the hall badly lighted at that -point, and Jan had on her rubbers, deadening her footfall. - -She heard the name “Gladys Graham,” and stopped short. There was no -time in which to debate her action. She despised listening, but she -wanted--no, that did not express it--she felt that she _must_ hear -what was being said. Before she had more than grasped the temptation -before her, and had not had time to yield to it or resist it, she heard -in the brief pause she made at the turn of the hall words which gave -her quick wits the clue for which she longed. The English teacher’s -voice, clear and resonant, reached her. She was saying: “There can not -be the least possible doubt of the child’s guilt. It was an abominable -letter, begging Daisy to join her in a plot to bring discredit on -the entire class and school, written in Gladys’s hand, on that very -peculiar foreign paper she has, and which there is none like in the -school, if there is in the city. And Daisy, whom you never liked, Miss -Esterbrook, had written across the bottom of the page: ‘I would not do -such a thing for the world.’ The paper fell into Miss Larned’s hands -accidentally--it had got in with some composition papers I had to -correct. Gladys deserves much more severe treatment than being deprived -of her part in the play, but policy, as well as kindness, makes Miss -Larned hush the matter up. It is very fine of Daisy Hammond, and shows -that she really loves Gladys, that she does not tell the other girls, -for of course she must guess what is wrong.” - -“I could not have believed such a thing like that of Gladys,” said the -German teacher. “She is wain and not so much a student as her sister, -but I have never a bad child found her.” - -Jan turned back and went quietly up the hall in the direction whence -she had come. No one had seen or heard her, and she wanted to make -certain that she was able to speak naturally before she encountered the -group of teachers. - -So this was the trouble! Daisy Hammond had evidently written a letter, -purporting to come from Gladys, containing a proposal to do something -wrong, a proposal which she--writing then in her own person--had -indignantly refused. Daisy then had contrived that the letter should -fall into the teachers’ hands, knowing or hoping that the result of -her plot would be to give her Gladys’s coveted part in the play. Jan’s -hands clinched as she realized what a contemptible trick had been -played, and she resolved to expose it if it took the rest of her life -to do so--Jan was inclined to be dramatic under strong excitement. - -And the idea, she thought contemptuously, of Miss Arnold saying that -the paper was written in Gladys’s hand, when all the first class and -second class wrote so nearly alike, that, with the exception of Gwen, -to whom much writing had given an individual hand, one could never be -certain whose writing one was reading. But the peculiar paper? This was -a difficulty, and Jan longed to get Gwen to herself safe at home and -begin investigations with her help. But Gwen was out when Jan reached -the house, and on second thought it struck “Miss Lochinvar” that it -would be delightful if she could ferret out Gladys’s wrongs alone. What -happiness it would be to know that she--the unwelcome cousin, of whom -Gladys had always been ashamed--should be able to set her right in the -eyes of the school where her present disgrace far exceeded that of -having a cousin who did not mind confessing to poverty! - -As a preliminary step, this dawning Sherlock Holmes went to work on -paper dolls’ dresses for Viva, little as they seemed to bear on the -case. She was anxious not to arouse Gladys’s suspicion, and she wanted -an excuse for obtaining some of “that very peculiar foreign paper” of -which Miss Arnold had spoken as belonging to Gladys. - -“Have you any sort of odd letter-paper, Gladys, that you would let -me have to make a doll’s dress?” asked artful Jan. “I want something -stiffer than the paper we have, and something out of the common.” - -Gladys received the request graciously. She had been pleasanter to Jan -since she had stood by her in the matter of the play and had refused to -take Gwen’s part when it was offered her--a fact that Gwen was careful -that her sister should know, not failing to point out the contrast of -this loyalty to her own treatment of Jan. - -“I had the very thing,” said Gladys, “but there isn’t a scrap left. -Wait--I’ll look--maybe there is just a scrap.” She tossed over -the papers in her desk and produced a half sheet of a peculiar -greenish-gray paper with a tulip design in one corner. “Would this be -any good?” she asked. “I had lots of it, but I gave half to Daisy, and -mine is all used up. It came from Holland, and now I’m sorry I didn’t -keep all of it, for nobody has any like it.” - -“I can’t tell whether it will be useful or not,” said Jan truthfully, -for she had not seen the paper on which the incriminating letter of -which the teachers had been talking was written. Her heart gave a leap -as she heard Gladys say so unconsciously that she had divided her paper -with Daisy. “I’ll take it, if you don’t want it, and see if I can use -it.” - -“All right. I don’t want it. Half a sheet is no good, but isn’t it -nice, with those tulips in memory of Holland in the corner?” said -Gladys, looking regretfully at the solitary remainder of her too great -generosity. - -“It’s just as pretty as it can be, and it’s nice for a New York girl to -have, because the Dutch brought their tulip bulbs over here. Thanks, -Gladys. I’ll do as much for you, if I can.” And Jan laughed nervously. - -“You needn’t mind about doing anything, if you can’t do more than -give me half a sheet of letter-paper,” said Gladys. And Jan ran away -thinking how much nicer Gladys was now that misfortune had made her -less airy. - -Viva did not get her doll’s dress made from Gladys’s contribution. Jan -cut out a dress from half of the half-sheet, but carefully preserved -the upper part with the tulips in the corner. The next day at school -she carried her deep-laid plan further. Daisy Hammond, as well as -Gladys, had been more civil to her since the trouble, though from some -other cause. Jan could not quite see what this cause could be, but she -decided that, in spite of her efforts to control her voice and eyes, -something of the suspicion she felt toward Daisy had been betrayed, -and that Gladys’s false friend feared “Miss Lochinvar’s” possible -discoveries. - -Counting on Daisy’s evident desire to propitiate her, Jan went to her -at recess. “Daisy,” she said, “Gladys gave me a stray half-sheet of -paper to make a doll’s dress for Viva. She said she hadn’t any more to -give me, and I want some badly. Gladys didn’t say I might ask you, but -she did say she had given some of her paper to you. Have you the least -little sheet, or even half a sheet, that I might have to finish with?” -And Jan held up the quarter-sheet of paper which she had kept. - -Daisy could not repress a start as she saw it, and she glanced sharply -at Jan’s rosy face. But “Miss Lochinvar” had her wits about her, and, -though she noted the look of fear that passed swiftly across Daisy’s -face, she met that young lady’s eyes with her own brown ones smiling -steadily, and Daisy saw no sign of a latent motive behind the innocent -request. - -“Oh, I don’t believe I have a bit like that,” she said. “Gladys only -gave me two or three sheets, ever so long ago. I’ll give you any other -I have.” - -“Gladys said she had given her half,” thought Jan, keenly alive to -Daisy’s words and actions. But she said aloud: “Let me go with you -while you look. I wouldn’t mind for myself. I could get on without -the paper, but I’d like to finish what I have begun for my cousin.” -It really was good sport to say this, knowing what a different -significance from her own Daisy would attach to her words. - -Daisy dared not refuse Jan for fear of arousing her suspicions, so she -went down-stairs with very bad grace, Jan following close at her heels. - -At Daisy’s desk Jan kept right at her back so that she could see its -contents plainly. Daisy could hardly restrain her annoyance as she -tossed her paper about with movements that were so unnatural that Jan -knew she was on the track of what she sought. - -“There isn’t a bit here,” said Daisy, hastily throwing a copy-book to -one side. “Take this pinkish shade. It’s nicer for dolls, anyway.” - -But Jan was too quick for her. “Pink wouldn’t go with the dress I -began,” she said, reaching over quickly and raising the copy-book. -“Why, there are several sheets of this Dutch paper! You covered it up -and didn’t see it, Daisy.” - -Daisy flushed crimson, even up into the roots of her hair. “What right -have you to touch my desk, Janet Howe?” she cried angrily. “I never -allow any one to do that.” - -“Oh, very well. You needn’t get so mad. I didn’t know you objected,” -said Jan quietly. “And if you didn’t want to give me the paper you -weren’t obliged to. Why didn’t you say so when I asked you?” - -Daisy saw that she had made a mistake. Perhaps it was only her guilty -conscience that made her fear Jan. Surely that troublesome young person -looked as calm and innocent as the new moon, not at all eager for the -paper. Perhaps she really did want it for the doll’s dress and nothing -else. In any case, it would not do for her to act guilty. - -She laughed affectedly, and said: “How absurd you are, Jan. Of course -I’m willing you should have the paper. You startled me, that’s all, and -it does make me furious to have any one touch my things. Take all the -paper, if you want it--I am sure I’m willing.” - -“No, indeed; but if you can spare one sheet I’d be glad,” said Gwen. -Then with a sudden realization of the value of witnesses, she turned to -Dorothy Schuyler, who had just entered the schoolroom. “See this paper -Daisy has given me. Gladys gave it to her. It came from Holland. Did -you ever see any like it?” she said. - -“Never. Isn’t it pretty?” said Dorothy, feeling the texture as she -paused on her way to her own desk. And Jan knew that, if she needed it, -there was some one who could prove that she had received the paper from -Daisy and not from Gladys. - -At this point in her plotting Jan stopped for two days, keeping Gladys -quiet in the meantime by a hint of hope which set her agog with eager -impatience. - -Then, without giving any reason for her request, she asked Cena North -to borrow Daisy’s blotter and forget to return it; instead, to give it -to her--Jan--after school. - -Cena was ready to do anything that Jan asked of her. She admired -fearless “Miss Lochinvar” with all the might of her own quiet nature. - -Not for nothing had Jan read stories in which looking-glasses had -disclosed the secrets of blotters. Locking her door on her arrival in -her own room, putting a chair before it in case the impossible should -happen and some one should open it, pulling down the shade to the -extreme annoyance of Tommy Traddles, sitting on the window-sill, and -lighting the gas, this solitary conspirator held the blotter before her -mirror. - -She nearly fell over in the joyful shock of the revelations thus -obtained. Only a word here and there, but they were enough. Though -Jan knew nothing of the contents of the letter which had fallen by -deliberate apparent chance into Miss Larned’s hands, she saw that -these words must be part of it, preserved by the faithful blotter to -incriminate the girl who had betrayed her friend, and fought her, not -fairly, but treacherously, for precedence. - -With the blotter and the sheet of paper she held in her hands the -proofs which should reinstate Gladys on the morrow. Now it was time to -take Gwen into her confidence, and she turned down the gas, drew up the -shade, removed her superfluous barrier, and thrust an excited, flushed -face out of the door. - -“Gwen, Gwen, come here!” she called, and Gwen flew out of her room, -knowing from the tremulous voice, strained and unnatural in tone, that -something had happened. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -“’TWERE BETTER BY FAR TO HAVE MATCHED OUR FAIR COUSIN WITH YOUNG -LOCHINVAR” - - -Gwen and Jan held a council of war. But it was a long time before -they reached the council. It took so long to tell the history of the -campaign which “Miss Lochinvar”--worthy of her name--had been waging, -single-handed and alone, in her cousin’s behalf. It was a story full -of “I thoughts,” and “I saids,” and “she saids”; of “I founds,” and “I -heards,” and “she dids.” Gwen could not sit still to listen, but walked -up and down the room, eyes flashing and cheeks burning, till Tommy -Traddles--sensitive, like all cats, to perturbation in the air about -him--jumped up on the top of the bookcase, and watched her with large, -disapproving eyes, doubtless thinking that people who did not belong to -the feline family were most foolishly excitable over trifles. - -The result of the girls’ consultation--when they reached that -point--was that Gwen and Jan left home early on the following morning -together, and when Gladys followed later she was met at the door -by Miss Larned’s maid, requesting her immediate attendance in that -personage’s private room. - -“Probably they’re going to expel me this time,” thought the victim of -previous injustice. “I don’t care. It’s the meanest school in New York, -anyway!” - -She ascended the stairs slowly, “standing with reluctant feet” at the -threshold of the Misses Larneds’ sanctum a moment before she knocked. - -Opening the door at the permission to do so, she saw an amazing sight. -There were both the august sisters sitting as if in judgment, flanked -by Miss Arnold, the English teacher. There were Gwen and Jan flushed, -trembling, plainly quivering with excitement. And--most wonderful of -all--there was Daisy Hammond dissolved in tears, looking “as though she -could not look anywhere,” as Gladys said afterward. - -“Ahem! Miss Gladys Graham, we have sent for you,” began the elder -Miss Larned, portentously. “We have learned that we were mistaken in -thinking you guilty of a shocking action, in punishment of which you -were deprived--as we supposed justly and with full cognizance on your -part of the cause of our decision--of your part in the Christmas play. -We have but just learned that you were absolutely guiltless of the -offense.” - -“I told you I hadn’t done anything, and I didn’t know what made you -pounce on me,” said Gladys, so embarrassed by this flood of Johnsonian -English, of which she did not understand half the words, as well as -perturbed by the fact dawning on her that instead of being expelled she -was being reinstated, that she expressed herself with inelegant brevity. - -At another time Gladys’s “pounce” would not have passed unreproved. As -it was, Miss Larned resumed what her pupils disrespectfully called “her -language.” - -“A letter fell into our hands, purporting to be written by you, -on a certain imported paper which you alone possessed,” Miss -Larned continued. Gladys started, and looked at Jan, who nodded -significantly. “The letter proposed a course disgraceful in itself and -injurious to the school. Miss Hammond was supposed to have been the -recipient, and she had indignantly repudiated what was apparently your -base proposition. We have discovered that Miss Hammond was the sole -author of the letter; that by apparent accident she contrived it should -fall into our hands. Her motive was envy of your superior part in the -coming play and the desire to have you deprived of it, knowing that, -if this were to happen, she would be assigned the part in your stead. -Her plot has been so far successful. But for your cousin, Miss Howe, -the true culprit would not have been discovered. Actuated by firm faith -in your innocence, as well as affection, she has devoted herself to -discovering the truth. Chance put into her hands the clue of what we -intended--charitably to you--to retain a secret. She has worked upon -that clue very cleverly, and, armed with her proofs, laid the case -before us this morning. Miss Hammond, seeing the futility of doing so, -has attempted no extenuation of her wrong, but confesses it fully. We -therefore restore to you our confidence and regard, expressing also -our regret that you have undergone this trial, which will doubtless -be beneficial to you, nevertheless. And we also request that you once -more assume the rôle of the princess in the play. Your sister and your -cousin will resume their parts if this arrangement pleases you.” - -Gladys was sustained from actual collapse by the formality of this -lengthy address, but she was dreadfully upset, and had great difficulty -in murmuring her agreement to this arrangement. Miss Larned, seeing -that she was overwhelmed by the revelations so suddenly poured forth -upon her, graciously arose and held out her hand in amicable dismissal. - -“We will excuse you, Miss Gwendoline and Miss Gladys Graham, from -attendance on your classes to-day. You, too, Miss Howe, may be excused. -And you, Miss Hammond, will hardly be in a fit condition mentally to -apply yourself. You will, therefore, keep holiday to-day, reporting at -the usual hour to-morrow. And I need not say, I trust, that as this -melancholy affair was preserved a secret when Miss Graham was supposed -to be the guilty one, so it will be close guarded now that we have -learned who is really culpable, much more culpable, I regret to say, -than we had thought Miss Graham in the first instance. You will not -mention to any of your mates, young ladies, the matters which have been -discussed, the facts which have transpired in this room this morning.” -Miss Larned, Miss Agatha Larned, and Miss Arnold bowed to the four -girls, who found themselves in the hall they hardly knew how. - -Daisy Hammond, sobbing bitterly, held out her hand to Gladys, but she -put both her hands behind her back with a movement of aversion. “No, -Daisy Hammond,” she said decidedly. “I don’t say I won’t forgive you -sometime, but I won’t do it now. Gwen was right about you, and I never, -never will go with you again. I wouldn’t have minded anything else, -because we were chums, and I never was better than you were. But I -couldn’t do anything like what you did. To write a letter and pretend -it was mine, and use the paper I gave you for it, and then write an -answer to it yourself, and let me be put out of the play and disgraced, -and never say one word! And pretend every minute you were my friend, -and so sorry for me that they could hardly tease you into playing the -princess--oh, my! I never heard of such a humbug! No, sir, Daisy, we’re -never friends again as long as I live. And I’m dreadfully sorry--it’s -the worst thing I ever heard of--you’re a regular Benedict Arnold!” And -with which parting shot, drawn from her slender armory of historical -lore, Gladys turned away forever from her treacherous friend, her head -held high, but with tears running down her cheeks. - -Gwen, Jan, and she made their way homeward with difficulty, for Gladys -had to be told the whole story, and it was impossible to get her to -grasp it when Gwen and Jan were talking together, and all three were -dodging the carriages spinning down Fifth Avenue. - -The entire day was spent in ceaseless talking over the affair. Mrs. -Graham was captured, and the history of her daughter’s wrongs was -poured into her indignant ears. Sydney had to learn the story on his -return in the afternoon, and Jack grew so angry, and quiet Viva so -excited hearing it discussed that only Jerry preserved anything like -her ordinary state of mind. Jan was a heroine. Mrs. Graham could -hardly express her admiration for the silent determination with which -she had set to work to clear Gladys. Mr. Graham was told at night what -had been going on at school, and after first declaring wrathfully that -he would take Gladys away from the Misses Larneds’, he ended in hearty -laughter over what he termed Jan’s pluck, and compromised on a luncheon -and a theater-party to be given in her honor. This was the way in which -Mr. Graham’s interference in family matters often ended. - -“May I come in, Jan?” called Gladys’s voice at Jan’s door at bedtime. - -“Of course,” said Jan, hastily opening to the slender figure in the -blue eider-down robe which solemnly entered, and would have seated -itself on Tommy Traddles in the rocking-chair but that Jan rescued him. - -“I can’t say what I want to,” Gladys began, almost timidly. “But I -came to thank you for what you’ve done for me. It isn’t clearing up -the row--though that’s a good deal,” Gladys continued quickly as -Jan started to speak. “Of course it is simply fine to get back my -part, and have every one understand that the Superior Ladies [this -was Gwen’s name for the Misses Larned, by a transposition of “lady -superior”] were wrong about me. But it’s the way you stood by me. And I -know I’ve been mean to you, Janet. I hated to have you come here, and I -snubbed you, and I made fun of you, and I neglected you----” - -“Oh, stop, for goodness’ sake, Gladys! That’s all right!” cried Jan, -not relishing this outburst of self-abasement. - -“And I called you Miss Lochinvar,” continued Gladys without heeding. - -“No, it was Syd dubbed me that, and I’m proud of the name. I like it -better than my own--now,” said Jan. - -“Yes, it suits you,” said Gladys in the same monotonously melancholy -tone. “I read over the poem to-day, and you’re very much like him. -Brave and straight, and everything you try goes through. But I didn’t -mean it like that. I meant it nastily. But I have learned a great deal, -Janet. I shall never be such a foolish girl again. It is an awful thing -to find out your friends are perfectly horrid.” - -Jan tried not to laugh, but did not succeed very well. Gladys could not -be quite simple even under sincere feeling, such as Jan felt sure was -moving her now. - -“You haven’t found that out about everybody, Gladys. And, honestly, I -think the Hammond-Gilsey crowd isn’t much of a loss,” she said. - -“No,” said Gladys sadly. “Gwen was right. They’re vulgar, ill-bred -girls. But I don’t see why I couldn’t know that as well as Gwen did. -And, besides, I’m kind of sorry I know it now. But I haven’t found out -you’re mean. I have found out you’re the very nicest girl I ever saw. -And what I wanted to ask you was if you thought, after a while--a long, -long while--you could forgive me, and like me a little bit?” - -“Why, Glad, I don’t even remember I have anything to forgive!” cried -Jan, throwing her arms impulsively around the neck of the small figure -of humble contrition. “And I do like you now--no, I don’t! I love -you--aren’t you my own cousin, and aren’t we going to be friends?” - -“I am going to be _your_ friend, and I’m going to try to be the -kind of girl you are,” said Gladys, returning Jan’s warm kisses -heartily, but in a chastened manner. “I would rather you wouldn’t say -you love me yet, because if you do it must be just for Gwen’s sake, or -because I’m your cousin, and I want you to love me anyway--because I’m -worth loving.” - -“Of course you’re worth loving, Gladys. And I think this trouble at -school is a perfect blessing!” cried Jan. “You were all mixed up with -that worldly, silly lot of girls, and it was just as bad for you! -You’ll be ever so much more sensible and nicer when you are done with -them.” - -“I hope so,” returned Gladys, evidently not in a mood to take a -hopeful view of herself. “If I had been sensible I wouldn’t have liked -them--Gwen didn’t. You never can like me as well as Gwen, because she -really is sensible, and she’s dreadfully clever, and then she’s been -pretty nice to you all along. Just think of my caring because those -girls knew you hadn’t any money! Shouldn’t you have supposed I’d have -known they weren’t ladies, and that you were, and not have cared--just -despised them?” - -“Yes,” said Jan, stifling a yawn, for an exciting day had left her -too sleepy to enter into discussions, moral or social. “I guess people -are like things to eat--you like some from the start, and others you -have to learn to like. The Hammonds were a sort of puff paste, and too -much of them gives you indigestion. Don’t you bother any more about me, -Gladys. We’ll have such good times together that you’ll forget you ever -were mortified by your Western cousin.” - -“Don’t, Jan,” said Gladys gravely. “I’m so ashamed.” - -“Now that’s a healthy feeling. I’m always an angel for several days -after I’ve been ashamed of myself,” laughed Jan, kissing her crushed -visitor good night. - -Jan fell asleep with Tommy Traddles purring at her feet and something -very like a purr in her own heart, so full of content it was. For the -first time she felt that her peaceful conquest of the Graham family was -accomplished, that there was not one under that roof that night that -did not love her, and to whom her coming was not a matter for which to -be glad. Sydney had been indifferent, but now they were the best of -friends. Gladys had disliked her, but she bade fair to love her more -than Gwen did. And her Aunt Tina had bade her good night with positive -affection in her kiss, a kiss that was not usually given when she left -her to sleep. Jan felt very happy, very grateful for the love that was -springing up around her, not realizing that it was a case of the mirror -of which her mother had written her, which Thackeray had said gave back -one’s own expression. - -Jan was so full of unselfish love that she diffused warmth, and the -chill of the big brownstone house was fast disappearing in the glow of -her unconscious girlish sweetness. - -But it was part of her charm that she should never think such thoughts -as these. Instead, she wondered happily and sleepily how it was that -everybody was proving so nice, and resolved to do all she could to make -the Christmas play a complete success. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -“‘NOW TREAD WE A MEASURE,’ SAID YOUNG LOCHINVAR” - - -As Christmas day drew near Jan found that down in the bottom of her -heart lurked a dread of the beautiful festival which would crop out at -odd moments when the preparations for the play allowed it opportunity. -It was not that she was homesick now, nor that every one in her uncle’s -house was not affectionate toward her, but Christmas was Christmas and -home was home, and she had never before welcomed one beyond the charmed -circle of the other. When she thought of her little Poppet, Jerry could -not fill her place, and she hardly saw how Christmas could be truly -“merry” without the dear home voices to wish it so. But Jan remembered -her mother’s rule for being happy, which was to forget oneself and make -others as happy as lay in one’s power, and, following this rule, Jan -found it working better than she had believed possible. - -Sydney had not been able to return her five dollars yet, and Jan had -written her mother about its loan, explaining to her that lacking it -she could not buy the home presents she had planned to send. The result -of this letter had been one from Mrs. Howe, warning Jan against helping -Sydney in concealing his troubles and mistakes from his father, but -admitting that she was not able to judge the wisdom of Jan’s course -in a household to which she was a stranger, and enclosing another -five-dollar bill to take the place of the one gone to help poor Sydney. - -Knowing how scarce dollars were in the little house in Crescendo, Jan -shed a few tears over this letter, but cheered up as she put on her hat -and jacket to go out to do her shopping, hoping that the first five -dollars were to prove a good investment, and feeling sure that she -could never have won Sydney to confession to his father unless she had -first found a way to help him to have less to confess. - -There was no time to be homesick and dread Christmas, because every -moment was so full getting ready for its coming. The play required -hard work, for the double change in the cast had thrown it back. Then -every other minute which she could snatch Jan worked fast on gifts for -the Crescendo dear folk and for those around her. It had been hard work -to coax the five dollars into getting her materials for a trifling -remembrance for each one on this long list, even though the nimble -fingers and quick wits were active in fashioning slight foundations -into desirable forms. - -Hummie had taught the little girl knitting in the funny German -left-handed fashion, and white Shetland wool was so cheap that fifty -cents gave her enough for a little hood for Poppet, a scarf for her -mother to throw over her head on summer evenings, and another for her -aunt, which Jan knit with misgivings of its acceptability. - -Little Dresden flowered linen glove and handkerchief cases, daintily -embroidered, were the best that Jan could do for Gwen and Gladys, and -she made similar cases to hold scarfs for Sydney and her brother Fred. -A scrap-book for Jerry and doll’s clothes for Viva took so much time -that a less cheery and industrious person than Jan might have lost -heart, but she stitched away blithely, and actually accomplished what -she had set out to do. - -Gwen found out how slender was her cousin’s store for Christmas gifts, -and was more moved by the thought of trying to make so many purchases -with a sum which she would have spent on one gift than she would have -been by more biting forms of poverty, probably because this touched her -personal experience. The result was that she and Gladys went off on -private shopping tours of their own, and when the day came for packing -the box which Jan was to express to Crescendo beautiful presents came -forth from secret nooks in the girls’ rooms, and Jan was overwhelmed -with the vision of the delight with which the beaming faces so far away -would gleam as the undreamed-of riches were unpacked. - -Even Jerry was inspired by the universal outpouring for the Crescendo -children, and nobly tucked, unseen by any eye, into a corner of the box -the rubber top of her discarded bottle, to which she still had recourse -in moments of anguish or when she lay down to sleep, in spite of the -dignity of three years. - -How could Christmas be anything but merry, after all, when it brought -such treasures as met Jan’s opening eyes on that morning? A watch from -her uncle, as tiny as it could be and keep time; its beautiful long -chain and chatelaine pin, from her aunt; the set of Dickens, which she -coveted, from Gwen; a charming little brooch of enameled green leaves -and mistletoe berries, from Gladys; a muff given in Viva’s and Jerry’s -name; a fan from Jack; and, best of all, a book from Sydney, who, as he -handed it to her, said with an honest blush: “I earned the money for -this, Miss Lochinvar, trying to be a man, as you suggested, so I have -a right to give it to you. I can’t give you your five dollars yet, but -I’ll do that, too, later.” - -Three days after Christmas came the play. Jan never knew precisely how -that evening passed. It was a whirl of light and color and excitement -to her, but delightful beyond all telling. It seemed to her that there -never could be again such talented creatures brought together as the -girls proved. She could not criticize--all were wonderful to her, and -she saw no faults in any one’s acting. But if there were degrees in -the marvelous geniuses before her she felt proudly that the highest -were her own family, for Gwen’s haughty, yet animated, rendering of -the duchess seemed to unsophisticated Miss Lochinvar to prove that she -should give up her dreams of authorship and painting, and tread the -boards without delay, the glorious equal of Bernhardt and Duse. - -Nor, in another way, was Gladys inferior--so graceful, dainty and -charming was her rendering of the princess. Jan was so proud of her -cousins that at one point she stood still, quite unconscious that a -burst of applause from the audience was intended for her and not for -Gwen, who had to pinch her and whisper to her to bow, or humble Jan -would not have acknowledged her favors. - -It was fairyland to roll homeward in one’s own carriage after the -play with one’s fellow-actresses, rumpling one’s high-piled, powdered -hair recklessly against the carriage cushions, and burying one’s nose -luxuriously in the flowers which the usher had handed up to each young -artist, and which filled the carriage with their fragrance. - -“It would never do for me to take to playacting and dressing up too -often,” said Jan with a sigh of delight and regret as the carriage -pulled up at the door, and Susan began to gather up the trophies. “If I -had much of this sort of thing I wouldn’t be any good for real things.” - -“You would soon get used to them and not care so much,” said Gladys -with a touch of her old-time superiority and the air of an experienced -woman of the world. - -“I think New Year’s is a queer, no-kind-of-a-sort of a day,” said -Gladys disconsolately on that morning. It was raining, and there was an -air of melancholy abroad which justified a dismal view of the holiday. - -“I know it!” exclaimed Gwen. “Christmas is over, and school and lessons -are just ahead, and yet it is a holiday and you feel as though you -ought to be having a good time, but you’re not. I never did like New -Year’s day.” - -“Besides, it’s so sad to get old and know you’ve got to be grown-ups in -just a few New Years more,” sighed Viva, so mournfully that the others -shouted, for at seven there hardly seems to be immediate necessity for -grieving over the approach of age. - -“I wonder if there isn’t anything interesting we could do, something we -never do, to begin the year with a rush, and cheer us up,” said Jan, -characteristically, casting about for something to cheer her, even -while inadvertently admitting that she needed cheering. - -Jerry uttered a wail, and Gwen swooped down on Jack, who was tormenting -her. “Let Jerry alone, you trying boy!” she cried. “What is the matter -with you this morning?” - -“He got out of bed the wrong way,” said Sydney, who was lolling in the -window. “I had to trounce him for bothering Drom while I was getting -dressed.” Drom, who was quite recovered, save for a slight stiffness in -the leg which had been broken, wagged his tail at the mention of his -name, as if corroborating Sydney. - -“There isn’t anything to do, Jan,” said Gwen, replying at last to -Jan’s suggestion. “We might get up something with the girls this -afternoon--if they’re not all off somewhere.” - -“I think we are enough to have fun among ourselves,” said Jan, with an -eye on Sydney, who looked so glum that she longed to shake him out of -his thoughts and not let him go off to find amusement outside. - -“Let’s play house!” exclaimed Jerry hopefully, a suggestion hailed with -a laugh from her sisters and a hug from Jan. - -“See that little Italian boy with the violin,” cried Gladys. “Let’s get -him in to play for us to dance.” - -“Oh, dancing in the morning!” said Sydney scornfully, but Gwen and Jan -fairly tore to the door without waiting to discuss the question--they -both would dance at any time of the day or night, and all day and -night, apparently. - -The Italian came wonderingly, but smilingly, at their summons. He could -not speak English, and at first he thought that they wanted to order -him on, and eagerly protested with eloquently outspread palms that he -would not play within their hearing; that he was but beginning his -day’s work having been to the cathedral for mass. - -All of this was lost on the girls, but they saw that he had -misunderstood them, and, falling back on pantomime, they signified -that he was to follow them up-stairs and play for them to dance. - -“Ah, si, si, si,” he cried, smiling at his own misapprehension, at -them, and at the world at large, and obeyed them gladly. - -In the nursery the impromptu ball began without loss of a moment. -The wandering minstrel played well. Even Sydney’s indifference -thawed beneath the strains of an inspiring waltz, and he swung the -girls around with considerable enjoyment, while the others danced -together, Jack also condescending, though he was at that mid-stage of -boyhood when he regarded all social customs as not only a bore, but a -conspiracy against true freedom. - -[Illustration: The impromptu ball began without the loss of a moment.] - -But Jack was certainly in a trying mood that morning. He contrived to -be exasperating in a dozen ways, suited to each person’s weaknesses, -and Gwen threatened to banish him if he did not reform at once, while -Jan--usually so patient with mischief--informed him that he was a -nuisance, and had begun the year about as badly as he could. - -This stern remark made Jack both angry and ashamed, angry enough, -unfortunately, not to allow the shame to bring forth fruit. As the -smiling musician struck up a polka that must have made it hard for the -chairs to keep their legs still, and did make Jerry pick up her skirts -in an improvised dance all her own, Jack grew more obstreperous. - -Gwen and Jan were dancing together, Sydney was trying the heel-and-toe -with Gladys, and Viva was polkaing with her largest doll, her face as -sweetly grave as usual, and her little form swaying most gracefully, -for serious Viva was a born dancer. - -Suddenly the music became irregular in time, and Gwen called over Jan’s -shoulder as they whirled: “What are you doing, boy? You would have to -have crutches to dance that time, it is so hitchy!” - -The Italian only smiled. To all blame as well as to praise he presented -the same unvarying smile, as a safe way to meet the uncertainties of an -unknown race and clime. - -“’Tisn’t the boy, Gwen, it’s Jack!” cried Viva, who had stopped, after -vain pursuit of the time. - -“Jack, what are you doing?” cried Gwen, and Jack grinned at her from -behind the ragged arm holding the bow which he had been joggling. - -“Now I am going to have you put out!” cried Gwen, stopping short. “It’s -too bad for you to spoil our sport! I should think you’d be ashamed, -a great boy like you, to make yourself a nuisance and a baby! Hummie, -Hummie! come get Ivan, please; he’s bad.” - -It was the second time that Jack had been called a nuisance in less -than half an hour, and the first time it had been Jan who had said it. -He was in an exasperating and exasperated frame of mind at best, and -Gwen’s words infuriated him. Besides, she had called him a baby, and -summoned the nurse! His hot temper, always in danger of flaring up, -flamed now. With a cry of rage he darted out from behind the musician, -snatched up a triangular block, one of Jerry’s architectural building -blocks lying by the table, and threw it with all his might at Gwen. - -Sydney sprang to catch the uplifted hand, but too late. The block had -flown, with the undeviating course of a violent throw, straight at -Gwen’s face, and with a moan of pain the poor child threw her arms -above her head, covering her eyes, and sank to the floor on her knees. - -For an instant no one moved, then Jan and Gladys, white with terror, -went to her and tried to raise her, but she drew away from their touch, -and groaning, “My eye--my eye is gone!” pitched forward fainting. - -“Hummie, Hummie!” shrieked Viva, while Sydney lifted Gwen’s head to his -shoulder, and Jack, his wrath spent in the outburst which had done the -unknown harm, stood shaking in every limb, a pathetic image of horror, -and Jerry ran away screaming “Hummie!” at the top of her voice. Nurse -Hummel heard and ran, brushing past Jerry in the hall, and lifted Gwen. - -“Was is happened?” she demanded, looking suspiciously toward the -Italian standing with his bow raised and his violin at his feet, his -face white under the brown tint. - -“Jack threw a block--he was mad,” said Gladys hoarsely. “O Hummie, is -Gwen blind?” - -“Blind! Mein Gott im Himmel!” murmured Hummie, and turned the -unconscious girl’s face toward her. Then she hastily let it fall -back on her shoulder and gathered her up as though she had been a -baby. “Ach, mein liebchen, my smart Gwen, mit die beautiful eyes!” she -moaned, and bore her away without answering Gladys’s awful question. - -Mr. Graham was out, but Mrs. Graham was in her room in the extension, -away from the sounds of the household. Nurse Hummel called her as she -carried Gwen to her room, and the horror in the old nurse’s voice -penetrated Mrs. Graham’s ears through the closed doors. - -She rushed out, and in an instant the children heard her low cry, -and then her voice raised to a shriek. “Sydney, Sydney!” she cried, -“ride on your wheel for a doctor as fast as you can! Get the first one -who will come! Then ride for Dr. Amberton, the oculist. Look in the -directory for his address. Hurry, oh, for Heaven’s sake, hurry, Syd!” - -Sydney rushed from the room, and with one impulse Gladys and Jan turned -to each other, and held each other close, too frightened for tears. -Viva was comforting Jerry on the stairs. No one remembered Jack, who -most of all in the stricken household was to be pitied then. The boy -slunk away, withdrawing his hand from Drom’s compassionate tongue, and -crawling up the stairs, never stopped till he had reached the top of -the house, and crept shivering into the cupola, where he lay down, a -little heap of misery, to wait till Gwen had died, and they came to -seize him. - -For hours it seemed to him he waited, yet no one came. He was cold, -but he did not mind that. In those awful moments he lived and thought -such agony that it seemed to him if they did not imprison him it would -do no harm to let him go free, for never again, never, could he be -insane with a fit of passion such as had made him begin the New Year by -killing his sister--or blinding her, was it? It did not matter. Jack -was wise enough to know that Gwen blind would not care for life. - -At last a step came slowly, lightly, up the stairs, and Jack cowered -breathless. It was but one person, and not a policeman, not his father, -than whom Jack would rather face an army. It was a girlish step--Jan? -For the first time a ray of hope penetrated the gloom of poor Jack’s -mind. Jan always came to help. The door opened. It was Jan. - -“O Jack, poor, poor little Jack,” she sobbed, and, kneeling, put her -arms around him with a tenderness he was too broken to resent. “I’m so -sorry for you! I know how dreadfully you feel now.” - -“Is Gwen dead?” whispered Jack. - -“No, oh, no, dear,” said Jan. - -“Blind?” whispered Jack again. - -“They don’t know. They can’t tell yet,” groaned Jan. “O poor, poor, -clever, dear Gwen, with all her plans, and her beautiful eyes!” - -Jack shivered, and Jan remembered that she had come to comfort the -warm little heart, which was full of noble impulses, though black rage -sometimes held it in control. - -She laid her cheek softly against Jack’s without speaking, and the boy -nestled close to her, feeling there might be pardon for him somewhere -since Jan did not cast him off. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -“SO FAITHFUL IN LOVE, AND SO DAUNTLESS IN WAR” - - -It seemed to Jan and Gladys as if the entire world had sunk into -silence, waiting to hear whether or not Gwen must be blind. There was a -hush over the house. Every one spoke and moved softly, not only because -the poor little patient was suffering severe pain, but as if they were -all unconsciously listening for the verdict which they dreaded from -the doctors. And even in the streets they bore with them the muffled -atmosphere of their home. The outside world no longer seemed gay, -noisy, cheerful. Sorrow and anxiety deadened the sights and sounds of -others’ pleasure to them. - -The best physicians of the city were working hard to save Gwen’s -sight--regular physicians to care for the nervous system, which had -sustained a serious shock, and the famous Dr. Amberton, the oculist, -to treat the eye itself, which the sharp corner of the block had struck -with such force that it was impossible to say for some days whether the -sight could be preserved. - -Jan found herself in a different household from the one which had -received her three months earlier. In the face of this misfortune -threatening poor Gwen--one peculiarly dreadful to a girl of her tastes -and ambitions--the indifference to one another which had so shocked Jan -on her coming from her own closely united home disappeared, and the -atmosphere she breathed was full of love, though heavy with grief. - -Mrs. Graham’s interest in her social pleasures, her clubs, and all the -outside issues which Jan had loyally struggled against believing that -she cared more for than for her family, were thrust into the background -and forgotten in the midst of the one absorbing thought. And Jan saw -that her uncle was at last her mother’s own brother; that Wall Street -and money-making no longer seemed important to him. Mr. and Mrs. Graham -went back to the days when they were first married, and Sydney and Gwen -were babies together, when, though they had a pretty home, it was -farther west and farther down in town, and, though Nurse Hummel was -with them, Mrs. Graham had more time and there was more necessity for -her taking care of the little ones. Gwen became once more to them that -baby girl whom they had then watched so proudly, and her mother hung -over her in her darkened room with a loving devotion which suggested -Jan’s own mother to the little exile. - -Gwen turned to this new mother-love with childlike clinging. She -loved to lie with her bandaged eyes resting on her mother’s shoulder, -peaceful, and satisfied in something for which she had unconsciously -longed, though she could not help knowing that her mother’s tears, -which she felt when her groping hand touched her cheek, boded ill to -her. - -Gladys was gentle, unselfish, absorbed in the thought of her sister, -which rendered her a far sweeter, lovelier Gladys than Jan would have -believed she could be when she was occupied only with poor, silly -little Gladys Graham. - -Sydney hovered about Gwen’s door, racking his brains for something to -do for her, all his taciturn indifference lost in his pity and regret -for Gwen. Altogether, Jan could not help half wondering if the worst -were to come, and Gwen lost her sight, if the good accomplished would -not be worth the terrible purchase price. - -Only Jack was outside the pale of the family love during these waiting -days. Jan’s heart ached for the poor little fellow, whose temper had -brought him anguish harder to bear than Gwen’s, but whose father could -not forgive him. Jack’s meals were served up-stairs, and his father -debated sending him away to a military school, where stern discipline -might check the temper which Mr. Graham characterized as “murderous.” -But Jan knew that the shock of seeing Gwen sink beneath the pain of -the missive he had thrown, and the torture of these past days when -every one avoided him, and he waited, like the rest, but not with the -rest, to learn Gwen’s fate, had burned into warm-hearted Jack’s brain -such horror of bursts of passion that the military discipline would -not be necessary, that he was completely cured of even a temptation to -violence. - -“You are our little comfort, Janet,” said her uncle to her one night, -when in the dusk she sat by him chatting of her mother in the hope of -cheering him. “You won’t admit that our poor girl can lose the light -out of her young life, and though you aren’t an old, wise woman, I -can’t help feeling better for your faith.” - -“Isn’t that just dear!” cried Jan. “You don’t know how I wish I could -help, but I honestly feel certain that God won’t let splendid, clever -Gwen be blind.” - -“Splendid, clever people are the very ones who have to be perfected -by suffering, dear little Miss Lochinvar--queer how I’ve come to like -that name for you! But you do help. You have no notion how your gentle, -affectionate, sunny little presence cheers your aunt and me, and I -think Gladys is a much better girl for being with you. Jenny has lent -me a simple, genuine little girl who never thinks of herself, and so, -without trying, sweetens all her surroundings. I don’t see how I can -repay either Jennie or her loan,” said Jan’s uncle, drawing her up -close to his side with a warm caress. - -Tears of happiness sprang into Jan’s eyes. “If you really want to do -something for me, Uncle Howard,” she whispered, “forgive poor little -Jack.” - -Her uncle’s face hardened. “Your ‘poor little Jack’ is a thoroughly bad -boy,” he said. “I can’t forgive him till I know how Gwen comes out.” - -“He has done just the same thing, however she comes out, uncle,” said -Jan cautiously. “He did not mean to harm Gwen--he never meant anything -at all, but flew into a rage, and threw the first thing that came -handy. He has done things like that always, and no one thought much -about it, only this time the block struck badly. He will never again -be the same--he is ever so much more to be pitied than Gwen! He isn’t -bad, Uncle Howard. He is a dear boy, generous, truthful, brave, but he -has got a terrific temper. One of our boys has such a temper, but mamma -watches and helps him all she can, and he is getting over it without -such a dreadful thing to cure him as poor Jack has had. You know Hummie -is a dear, but she can’t help a boy the way his father and mother can.” - -“Why, Jan, are you implying that I am responsible for Jack’s -violence?” demanded her uncle. - -Jan turned crimson, but stood to her guns after a fashion. “He needs -help, uncle, or he did need it--he will not forget now, I think,” she -said. “And you know Aunt Tina and you have been so busy! I love Jack, -Uncle Howard, and I pity him more than I do Gwen. How would you have -felt if you had blinded mamma when you were eleven?” - -“My dear child, I never had such a fiendish temper as Jack’s,” said Mr. -Graham. - -“No, you were more like Gwen, even and pleasant, and you weren’t like -Jack. But Jack is a noble boy. He isn’t mean, and he isn’t unkind,” -said Jan. - -To her great relief her uncle gave a faint laugh. “No one remembers our -childhood like these grandmothers of ours!” he said. “You remember my -boyhood better than I do, Jan.” - -“Let Jack come down and talk to you, uncle,” pleaded Jan, after she -had punished him for his impertinence by spatting the end of his nose -with a favorite movement of her forefinger. “We are all miserable and -worried to death now, but we have each other. But there is Jack--only -eleven--up-stairs, like a prisoner, worse off than any of us, because -he caused all this sorrow! Only Syd and I go near him--and Drom--and -after a while he will be so unhappy you can’t do anything with -him--he’s having a fearful time--it would kill me!” - -“Who is Drom?” asked Mr. Graham. - -“The poor little dog Syd and I saved and had his broken leg set. He’s -a darling, so loving and grateful, and he knows more than lots of -people!” said Jan. - -“What is that Mrs. Browning wrote about some one whose face looked -brighter for the little brown bee’s humming? I used to have time to -read, but I don’t get a moment now! You are a born lover, Jan. Some -people have a talent for loving, just as others have a talent for -music, and some--a few--for cooking,” said her uncle. “I seem to -remember hearing how you swooped down on the persecutors of that dog. -And so you think I’m a bad father?” - -“O Uncle Howard, I never thought anything so horrid or so impertinent!” -cried Jan. “I’m only a little girl, and what do I know about bringing -up children? I never knew any girl outside a story-book who knew how -to bring up a family. But of course I feel as though nothing could be -nice but mamma’s ways, because we are the very happiest children in the -world, and I know she wouldn’t dare leave Jack all alone these dreadful -days.” - -There was silence for a few moments, and then to Jan’s infinite relief -and joy her uncle said: “You are right, Janet. It will do the boy -mischief to be left brooding through these dark days of anxiety. And -I suspect you are right and he has needed wise control all along. Go -up and tell Jack to come to me. Tell him not to be afraid--I know he -has had punishment enough--but to come down, and we’ll begin all over -again.” - -Jan ran off on her errand with a lighter heart than she had had since -the day of the accident, first giving her uncle a warmly grateful kiss -on the forehead, around which the hair was beginning to grow a little -thin. Jack needed no persuading to follow her down-stairs. Much as he -had always feared his father, he would have faced anything rather than -be left any longer a prisoner with his own thoughts. - -Jan left him at Gwen’s door with a kiss the boy did not resent. “Tell -your father all you think and feel, Jack, and don’t be afraid of him. -He understands and wants to help you. We must all hold on to each other -in trouble, you know.” And Jack went slowly on, feeling that they all -must hold on to Jan forever. - -The library door closed behind him, and no one ever knew precisely -what happened in the interview between the poor little culprit and his -father. But when, long past his usual bed hour, Nurse Hummel went to -hunt Jack up, she found him curled up asleep in his father’s arms in -the great leather chair, his legs twined over its arm to supplement -his father’s lap, his cheeks flushed and stained with tears, but peace -written on the parted lips, which looked very childish in slumber. - -As Jan passed into Gwen’s room she found her alone. Her mother, -thinking her sleeping, had stolen away, and Jan, for the same reason, -seated herself noiselessly in the corner, afraid to open the door again -lest she waken Gwen. But Gwen was not asleep. In a few moments she -spoke. “Jan,” she said, “please come where I can touch you.” - -“How did you know who it was?” asked Jan as she obeyed. - -“Blind people have keen hearing,” said Gwen bitterly. “My ears are -learning double work.” - -“I suppose that’s sensible of them, to improve themselves, but -considering you’re not blind they might save themselves the trouble, if -they were lazy,” said Jan lightly, not betraying the shock Gwen’s words -gave her, for no one had hinted at blindness to Gwen. - -“Do you think I don’t know?” asked Gwen, raising herself on one elbow -and speaking with such fierceness that Jan was frightened. “Do you -suppose I don’t know what makes mamma so loving to me, and why she -cries quietly when she thinks I won’t know it? Do you suppose, Janet -Howe, that I don’t know why those horrible doctors are so idiotically -cheerful with me? If that Doctor Amberton tells me any more silly jokes -I won’t answer for what I’ll do or say to him! I am blind--blind--and -I’d far rather be dead! Why didn’t Jack kill me if he wanted to do -anything to me? Do you suppose I can _live_ without my eyes? How -can I write, or paint, or be great--or stand it?” - -Jan was dreadfully frightened. “You are not blind, Gwen,” she stammered. - -“Now don’t you try to tell me stories, Jan, because I won’t stand it!” -said Gwen. “I got the truth out of Viva the other day when mamma let -the poor youngster try to read to me. I nearly scared her to death, -because she won’t fib, and she didn’t want to tell the truth. Now I’m -talking to you, because I trust you, and I can’t keep it to myself any -longer. Jan, Jan, for mercy’s sake, say it isn’t so!” - -“It isn’t so--or it very likely isn’t so,” said trembling Jan. “If you -get all excited and go on like this I don’t know what harm it may do -you--the doctors all say to keep you perfectly still for fear of fever. -You are not blind, and that’s the truth. But they are anxious about -you. Now you see I’m not deceiving you one bit! We didn’t know you -were lying there fretting--why didn’t you speak before? You will get -well--I’m just as sure as I can be you will--but we all love you so -much we feel awfully to have you sick. But if you did have some trouble -with your eyes you could be just as great--greater! Isn’t it lovely -to have your mother all to yourself like this, and your father never -thinking of business, and Gladys and Sydney, and even little Jerry--of -course sweet little Viva--all just devoted to you? Don’t fret, Gwen. If -you are sick ever so long, you will see!” - -“Come here, Jan. I want to hold you!” cried Gwen, clutching her cousin -with burning hands, and drawing her downward in a half-delirious grasp. -“I won’t see, and that’s just it! O Jan, don’t you know, don’t you -feel, what that means?” - -“It isn’t going to be,” maintained Jan stoutly. “Yes, I know exactly -what it means, but it won’t be so! If it were, you would be just the -very heart of this whole family, and you could write the loveliest -stories and poems, and everything like that! But, what is better, you -could love them and they’d love you, until the whole house would be so -much nicer--like ours, which you always said must be lovely, if it was -poor. For love is best, of anything, isn’t it?” - -“No, no,” moaned poor Gwen; “my eyes are.” But in spite of the tragedy -hanging over her, Jan comforted her, and she presently fell asleep, her -burning cheek pressed against Jan’s cool one, Jan’s firm hand stroking -her tumbled hair, Jan’s strong young shoulders supporting her, and -Jan’s warm young heart sustaining her by its courage and love. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -“ONE TOUCH TO HER HAND AND ONE WORD IN HER EAR” - - -“See here, Jan, it’s no good,” said Sydney, speaking so suddenly that -Miss Lochinvar was startled. - -“What isn’t any good?” she asked, giving a last twitch to Tommy -Traddles’s red ribbon. - -“Trying to earn money and go to school at the same time. I am not -making a success of either, for I have only earned about four dollars -and ninety-nine cents,” replied Sydney gloomily. - -“Is the man getting impatient?” inquired Jan. - -Sydney nodded with much emphasis. “Won’t wait,” he said laconically. - -“Then I’ll tell you what to do, Syd,” said Jan, coming over to where -the boy was sitting, moodily jerking the shade cord at the window. “Ask -Gwen to lend you the money. She has quite a good deal--nearly fifty -dollars--left from Christmas presents, and allowance, and so on, and it -would be better for you to let her help you out, as I can’t.” - -“I don’t want a girl’s money, either hers or yours,” said Sydney. - -“Well, I suppose you don’t _want_ it, but you _need_ it -dreadfully,” said Jan with some subtleness of distinction. “And I -want to tell you, Syd, that I think it would be real kindness to talk -to Gwen about your troubles, and get her interested in something. -She isn’t better, and I heard the doctor say that if she couldn’t be -aroused she’d have a serious illness. Get her to think of something -besides her poor eyes, and it would be good for her. Gwen would be -glad, too, to think you trusted her.” - -“I wonder!” said Sydney doubtfully. - -“Well, I know!” said Jan emphatically. “And then, after she’s lent you -the money to square up, tell your father all about it, and get him to -put you in the way of earning something. He ought to know. I don’t feel -right to think I know and he doesn’t. It is wrong to help you have -secrets from him. I wouldn’t have done it if I could have coaxed you -to tell at first.” - -“Maybe I will talk to Gwen,” said Sydney slowly. “I don’t see any other -way unless I do talk to father, and he’d make it pleasant for me if I -did that!” - -“He might take you away from that school and those extravagant boys, -but you’d find he wouldn’t be hard on you. And I should think you’d -like to get out of that crowd,” said Jan. - -Sydney flushed with sudden eagerness. “Say, Jan,” he cried, “I’d give -my head to be let off from college! There’s no college in me--I’m -crazy to live out of doors. I don’t even want to go into business! If -I thought daddy would give me a start civil engineering I’d work hard, -but he won’t. What I’d like is to go out on a ranch. I’d rather study -men and beasts than books. But there’s no use talking--he’s made up his -mind to college for me, and to college I must go.” - -“Isn’t that silly! To say there’s no use talking, when you haven’t -tried talking!” exclaimed Jan impatiently. “I never saw a family that -knew one another so little! Why, Uncle Howard isn’t an ogre! How do -you know he wouldn’t let you do what you like best? ’Tisn’t likely he -wants you to be spoiled! Come home with me when I go,” she added with -sudden inspiration. “Fred talks of ranching, and we’d make a man of you -in Kansas.” - -Sydney swallowed the implication that he was not wholly manly now with -fairly good grace. “Well,” he said, “it’s pretty hard for a fellow to -be different from all around him. I haven’t had to rough it, and I -suppose I got extravagant without knowing it. I’m disgusted enough with -myself to find myself in debt, goodness knows! I’ll see Gwen to-day, -and if the poor old girl wants to lend me her ducats I’ll brace up -and make a clean breast to father. You deserve to have your advice -followed, for you’ve been a trump to me, and to us all, down to this -fellow.” And Sydney affectionately twitched Drom’s tail. - -Jan gave Gwen a hint of her brother’s approaching visit, and Sydney -found her as gentle, loving, and interested as a sister could be. - -“Why, of course, I’ll lend you the money, Syd,” she said. “You ought to -have told me before. I’ve been thinking that we all told one another -too little. Since I’ve been lying here I’ve had to see with inside -eyes, you know, and I’ve discovered several things. You’ll have to -find my little bead bag in my upper drawer, Syd. That has my money in -it--not my pocket-book. And you’ll have to help yourself to what you -want--if I have so much--for I----” - -Sydney found the abrupt breaking off of Gwen’s sentence very pathetic. -If only Gwen might see again! - -Sydney found the bag and counted over the crisp bills it contained. -“You have four dollars more than I need to pay that shopkeeper,” he -said, putting them back. “Jan lent me five some time ago.” - -“O Syd! When Jan has so little!” said Gwen with reproach in her voice. -“And you went to your cousin instead of your sister!” - -“Well, Gwen, I guess I’ve been a dunce! We have got into the way of -standing off from one another, but you’re a trump, and we’ll stick -together henceforth,” said Sydney. - -Joy such as she had not thought that she could feel again surged -through Gwen’s heart at these words. “Syd,” she said, “if ‘Miss -Lochinvar’ had never ‘come out of the West’ we wouldn’t have discovered -how horrid it was to be so selfish and distant--maybe never.” - -“That’s shaky English, but solemn truth, Gwendoline, my dear,” said -Sydney. “Jan’s a trump! That’s two trumps now--we’ll have a handful if -we keep on! She’s not one bit goody-goody and she never preaches, but -she seems to clear the air--kind of like a thunder-shower that never -strikes.” - -“More like the little leaven that leaveneth the whole,” said Gwen -softly. “I love her so, I could never tell you! And I always think of -that line in the gospel when I think about her. Now finish up getting -acquainted with the Graham family, Syd, and tell papa how things have -been going at school. He has a right to know, and I don’t believe it -is a good place for you where the boys are spending so much money, and -getting into debt, and all! Tell him I’ve lent you the money, so you -don’t want him to help you that way, but you do want him to show you -how to pay me back, and start square. If I’m not mistaken, papa will be -pleased to find you see things straight without needing showing, and -instead of scolding you, you’ll find him kind and ready to lend a hand.” - -“I don’t know that I could say honestly that I hadn’t had some showing -as to the most honorable and manly course,” said Syd truthfully. “Jan -gave me the tip, and now you back her up. I didn’t expect to find girls -so on the level, but I’m glad to say I’m able to see that you’re both -right. I’ll talk to dad the first chance he gives me, and I’m much -obliged, Gwen; we’re better friends from this day. I guess you won’t be -blind--we all are seeing a good deal clearer, strikes me.” And Sydney -disappeared with a boy’s awkwardness in expressing the deep gratitude -and the softer emotion which filled him. - -“Ask Gwen,” said Jan, the artful, as Viva came begging for a story at -dusk. She was beginning to say “Ask Gwen” as often as possible when -one of the three younger Grahams implored a favor. It was long that -they had waited for Gwen’s sentence, and still the doctors could not -be sure of what it was to be. Gladys and Jan had resumed school, and -the hours dragged while the poor child waited their return and the -coming of her friends who were faithful in spending some time with -her each afternoon. It was to little Jerry and Viva that Gwen found -herself turning for comfort while the others were away; Viva always -gentle, grave, and sweet; Jerry showing herself the dearest mite, with -her headstrong, impulsive baby nature toned down to meet the needs of -her whom she now invariably called her “poor, dear little Gwennie.” -Gwendoline’s talent for story-making was used now chiefly to entertain -Viva, while Jerry spun yarns for “poor, dear little Gwennie,” usually -of thrilling interest, though briefly sustained. - -“Once there was a dreat, bid lion, and he roared--like dis!” And Jerry -interrupted her recital to open her mouth to its widest extent and -roar fearfully in a deep alto. “And he was wery hundry, and he came to -N’Yort, and he ated up seven, five, free little dirls on n’avenue, and -Jewwy Draham shood him off wid her stirts in bot’ hands, and she stared -him so he was awful feared, and she said: ‘Poor, poor lion, come in -n’house and see little Gwennie!’ Isn’t dat er fine stowy?” - -“Well, he might be an awkward caller,” laughed Gwen. “Perhaps if he’d -eaten up so many little girls he wasn’t hungry, though. Yes, that’s a -fine story, Jerry!” And Gwen groped for the little dimpled hands to -squeeze them, and Jerry snuggled down with rapturous kisses for “poor, -dear Gwennie.” - -Jan rejoiced to see how unconsciously but surely the Graham household -was knitting together around Gwen’s bed. At the worst they would be -happier than before the accident, but Jan would not admit, even to -herself, that the worst was possible. - -Sydney had discovered his father. In a long, intimate talk the boy -had laid before him the difficulties and temptations of his little -world, and found himself telling the man, who remembered quite well, -after all, how it felt to be a boy, some things that he had not said -to the girls. But they had proved right in their prophecies of how his -father would take Sydney’s disclosures. With unspoken self-reproach for -having left a boy of sixteen unguarded, Mr. Graham set to work to undo -his mistakes. If Sydney did not feel that he would be a success as a -business man or as a professional one, Mr. Graham said, he would not -ask him to go through college. But he did ask him now to work harder -than he had ever done at his books, and prepare himself for whatever he -was to be in the future by doing his duty faithfully in the present. -And he promised him to send him every afternoon to a friend of his, a -professor at Columbia, who had asked for an intelligent boy to copy for -him notes he was making on natural history. He would pay Sydney for -his labor, and thus he could set himself right in his own eyes, and -pay back the money his sister had lent him. In the meantime he would -be having the best possible companionship, and be in the way of making -sure that he was not mistaken in deciding that college life and study -had no charm for him. - -Sydney felt as though the gloom in which he had walked for months had -given way to a glare of sunshine, and he blessed Jan in his heart for -showing him the road to the best and most needed friend that a boy of -his age could have--his own kind father. - -“Daisy and Ida Hammond have left school,” announced Gladys, bursting -into Gwen’s room one day. “They said their mother considered the -Hydra less exclusive that it had been, and was going to let them go to -boarding-school.” - -“I don’t see how they stood it so long after they were found out,” -said Gwen scornfully. “It’s rather nice of them to make the Hydra more -exclusive by removing the only girls in it who had been found out in a -disgraceful act.” Gwen was stronger; she could bear sudden outbursts -from the children, and Jan couldn’t help hoping that the next step -would be the restoration of the wounded eyes to light and health. - -“Oh, as to the exclusive, that refers to me, I suspect,” said Jan so -carelessly that it showed how completely she had lost the timidity and -wounded sensibility of her first days in New York. “Tommy Traddles,” -she added to the cat lying at Gwen’s feet, curled over on his back, -with his four feet drawn up on his white breast, and his tongue -sticking out while he looked over the top of his head to see what -effect his blandishments had, “Tommy Traddles, you may consider that -a squirm, but I consider it a device for winning attention.” And she -proceeded to bury her fingers in Tommy’s white shirt-front, while he -shut his eyes in blissful satisfaction with the result of his “device.” - -“Well, I am thankful they have gone,” said Gladys, removing her rubbers -with her right hand while her left thoughtfully smoothed her stocking. -“It was very disagreeable to have them around when you didn’t want to -go with them. And your set have not been so very anxious to have me, -Gwen. If it hadn’t been for Jan I’d have been quite out of it since the -fuss.” - -“Slang, Gladys?” hinted Gwen, for they had pledged themselves never -to use slang--or, as everybody said in the ancient days of Pinafore: -“Hardly ever!” She had hard work not to rejoice over her sister’s -admission, and found it quite impossible not to smile. - -“I know a great deal more than I did,” continued Gladys. “Those -girls are really a dreadful warning to me. I can see plainly now how -different a real lady is from an imitation one. It’s funny how blind I -was.” She stopped short, frightened by having used a word that never -was to be mentioned before Gwen. - -But Gwen met the allusion quietly. “You were blind first, Glad, and got -well. Maybe I’ll get well, too. I feel stronger, and sometimes I hope -a little. If I don’t get well, I’m going to try not to be a failure, -and be brave,” she said. - -Gladys went over to her and kissed her with a sweet gravity that was -pretty to see in the little girl who had been so shallow and vain. “My -kind of blindness was worse than yours, Gwen,” she said. “You’d be -nicer than I ever could be if you lost all your eyes.” - -“Gwen isn’t a spider, and Gwen is going to get well,” cried Jan, -laughing to keep from crying. - -Gladys left the room hastily and Jan perched on the bedside, holding -Tommy Traddles’s paw in one hand and Gwen’s fingers in the other. -“I’ve been wanting to tell you something Aunt Tina said yesterday, and -I haven’t had a chance,” she said. “Something just for yourself to -hear--right in your own ear.” - -“This is my own ear, Jan; it was given to me fifteen years ago,” said -Gwen, inclining that organ toward her cousin. - -Jan leaned forward to whisper into it. “She said that you were making -such a peaceful, happy little spot of your room, and were so brave and -cheerful, and all the children were getting so loving and gentle with -you that she half dreaded to have you get well and break up the little -oasis in the midst of a selfish world. Isn’t that nice for your mother -to have said?” And Gwen could not help feeling that it was. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -“HAVE YE E’ER HEARD OF GALLANT LIKE YOUNG LOCHINVAR?” - - -The longer days and greater cold had come. But with the cold was -interspersed here and there a day on which there was a vague far-off -hint of spring in the air, and the lover of nature who went up on the -short Northern road or over into New Jersey to get the full flavor of -his Sunday rest came back with reports of swelling twigs and the first -note of the bluebird; for it was late February. - -Although the doctors would not give better reasons for hope than -their more cheerful manner, there was a growing feeling in the Graham -household that Gwen was going to escape her hard doom, and it was on -one of those illusive days when the atmosphere seems full of light that -Doctor Amberton definitely authorized rejoicing by telling them, when -he came down from Gwen’s room, that the bandages could be removed from -her eyes in a week, and that they would be restored to enjoy the spring -sunshine. - -Mr. Graham shook the doctor’s hand hard, speechless with the joy of -this tidings, while his wife fell sobbing on Jan’s neck, and Viva -tumbled down in a burst of emotion such as silent children sometimes -give way to, and hugged the andirons, kissing their polished tops and -clinging to them hysterically. - -Gladys, Sydney, and Jack were not there to hear the good news, but -Viva ran to call them, and they were not less stirred by the blessed -certainty of Gwen’s escape than were the others; indeed Jack turned -so white on being told that his angry hand had not blinded his sister -after all that his mother sprang to put her arm around him, thinking -that he was fainting. - -Who was to take the good news to Gwen, and how was she to be told? -Gladys wanted the entire family to go up in a body and rejoice with -her, but Mrs. Graham would not permit this, and Mr. Graham suggested -that he and her mother went up together to bring comfort to the girl in -whom they had always felt so much pride, but who had become very dear -in these hard six weeks of courageously borne suffering. - -Jan whispered something in her aunt’s ear, and Mrs. Graham hesitated. -After a moment she said: “I believe it would be the very thing!” and -turning to the others added: “Jan suggests that we let Jack go up, -quite alone, and tell Gwen that he and she have escaped the awful -consequences of his fit of rage. She says he can tell her that he took -her eyes from her, and now he has come to give them back again. It is a -pretty idea. Shall we carry it out?” - -“Yes,” said Sydney decidedly, and “Ye--es,” voted Gladys doubtfully. -But Mr. Graham settled the question by saying: “Go up-stairs to your -sister, Ivan, my man, and tell her that you are bringing her back her -sight--that Doctor Amberton has said that she is safe, and we are -coming up in half an hour to try to tell her how thankful we are.” - -[Illustration: “You’re not going to be blind, not one bit!” said Jack.] - -Jack turned pale, then red; he was not sure whether he liked the errand -or not. He was afraid, and it seemed to him very solemn and difficult -to go to Gwen on such an embassy. He sat down to think it over on the -stairs, and as he thought it rushed over him how Gwen was lying -there, not knowing that she was not to be blind; how all this time she -had patiently awaited this day, knowing it might never come, and worst -of all how his hand had been the one to smite her. A sob rose in his -throat and he scrambled to his feet. Yes, it was good that they had let -him tell her that she was safe, and he must not lose another moment -in doing it. He fell up the stairs, and as he opened Gwen’s door she -sprang up in bed, feeling instantly the excitement with which he was -quivering as his hand touched the knob. - -“What is it, Jack!” she said quickly. - -“Oh, Gwen, ain’t it just great?” gasped Jack. “The doctor’s gone and -they sent me up to bring you your eyes, they said, because I took them -away. My, but we’re glad!” - -Gwen clutched the arm impetuously thrown around her. “Jack, is it -true?” she whispered. - -“True! Doctor Amberton said so! You’re to have the bandages off in a -week--you’re not going to be blind, not one bit!” said Jack, choking. - -Gwen fell back, burying her face in the pillows. If ever there was a -sincere “Thank God!” it was the one that filled the poor child’s heart, -but could not pass beyond the happy sobs rising in her throat. - -Jack was frightened. “Have I killed you this time, Gwen?” he asked -faintly. - -Gwen turned back again and caught him in her arms. “Killed me! My -darling old Jack, you have made me feel as though I should never die! I -believe I have been dead all these horrible weeks since New Year’s.” - -“They’re all coming up in a little while to tell you how glad they -are--they’re all down in the back parlor nearly out of their minds, -they’re so glad,” said Jack, much relieved to find Gwen unharmed. - -“Call Hummie, Jack, and then go tell them to come on--I can’t wait,” -said Gwen. - -Before Hummie had recovered from the joy of Gwen’s reprieve -sufficiently to make her fine, as Gwen had intended to be made, the -trooping of the entire family up the stairs fell on her happy ears. She -knelt in the bed in her long crimson wrapper, and held out her arms -speechlessly for a universal embrace. - -Sydney, Gladys, and Jan held back, feeling that Gwen’s father and -mother had the first right to her, but Viva and Jerry threw themselves -into the outstretched arms, as Mr. Graham and his wife clasped Gwen at -the same moment. There was a confused scrimmage of hugging and kissing, -and Mr. Graham recognized Gwen’s linen bandage and Jerry’s lace collar, -mixed with Viva’s hair, while Mrs. Graham rained tears and kisses on -her husband’s cuff. But it did not matter. In a moment Gladys and -Jan were added to the joyous confusion, and there was such an utter -abandonment of happiness, and such oblivion to anything but the blessed -fact that Gwen’s precious eyes were safe that Gwen realized for the -first time how dear she was to all these throbbing hearts, and how hard -must have been the past six weeks to them as well as to her, in which -they were bravely trying to keep their own grief out of sight while -they helped her bear her burden. - -“When can I really have my eyes?” asked Gwen, when some of the -excitement had spent itself. - -“You may take off the bandages in a week, but your eyes must be used -with the greatest care, and very little, all summer. Then by fall -Doctor Amberton thinks they will be perfectly strong,” said Mrs. -Graham. “And now, children, go your ways, for Gwen and I are going to -rest quite by ourselves for a little while.” - -Gladys and Jan left the room, arms around each other’s waists, in the -most loving girl fashion, and Mr. Graham followed behind them, smiling, -well pleased at the sight, and remembering how positively Gladys had -declared that she “would not go about with a Wild West Show” when he -had announced Jan’s coming. “Little Miss Lochinvar has won us all,” he -thought, realizing what a happy thing her coming had been for his own -children. - -“I wonder, Jan,” Gladys was saying as they went toward Jan’s room, -“I wonder if mamma wouldn’t let us ask some of our friends for a -celebration on the day Gwen tries her eyes for the first time? She -needn’t see them long enough to get tired, but it would be rather nice -to get together everybody she likes to look at when she looks for the -first time for so long.” - -“It would be ever so nice,” said Jan heartily. “If Aunt Tina will let -us--if she doesn’t think it would hurt Gwen.” - -At the self-same moment Gwen was saying: “Mamma, it is Miss Lochinvar’s -birthday on the 1st of March. Don’t you think I might use my eyes for -the first time on that day, and have a little surprise party for her? I -wouldn’t have to stay in the room longer than was safe, but I’d like to -get the girls together to keep Jan’s birthday properly. She’s done more -for me than you can guess; I couldn’t repay her if I tried forever. -And look at Gladys and Sydney! And how much sweeter Jerry is! And she -hasn’t any more notion of how nice she is than--than----” - -“Than a bright little wild rose along the roadside knows how sweet -and cheering it is,” finished her mother for her, as Gwen hesitated -for a simile. “It is only that she is good, really good, unselfish, -unaffected, sincere. She has done a great deal for us all, Gwen. It is -a curious thing to see how one little girl can diffuse happiness, and -make her sweetness contagious only by unconsciously showing how lovely -such a true little woman can be. I mean to write your Aunt Jennie and -beg her to let Jan go with us to the seashore this summer and stay on -for another winter in New York; I have a hope of getting her gradually -to make this her home, and her visits to Crescendo.” - -“You won’t succeed, mamma,” said Gwen, shaking her head dolefully. -“I’d give anything in the world to keep Jan every minute of my life, -but she’s too fond of home for that. She truly doesn’t think there’s -anything to do in New York--she said so once, and then was afraid she’d -hurt my feelings. Nothing to do here, but lots that is interesting in -that little Crescendo of hers--only think!” And Gwen laughed. - -“Well, at the worst, her father and mother must let her spend part of -each year with us, now that they have taught us to depend upon her,” -said Mrs. Graham. “However, we need not settle that now. About your -party: Yes, I think it can be done, and I should like to honor Jan by -celebrating her birthday. On the first? That is eight days off. Very -well; we’ll have the party. And now rest, my darling Gwen. You can’t -dream how glad your mother is to know you are to look upon her again so -soon!” - -“I’m not precisely sorry, mamma,” said Gwen, seizing the hand put -out to her, and returning with interest the kiss given her. What a -beautiful world it was! and how soft and warm was the atmosphere -becoming of the big house which even Gwen had sometimes found chilling! - -Mrs. Graham almost betrayed herself by a laugh as Jan and Gladys -unfolded to her their plan for a surprise party so nearly identical -with Gwen’s, except that they had not fixed a definite date, and had a -different end in view in holding it. But she composed her eyes and lips -to the necessary seriousness, approved their plans as she had Gwen’s, -and set about the preparations for both parties. It is not difficult to -prepare for two parties at the same time when both are practically one. -The pair of conspirators kept their secret from the one conspirator, -and Mrs. Graham conspired with both. The same guests were selected by -both camps, except that Sydney was called in to Gwen’s aid, and asked -the boys and girls with whom Jan had played the tennis match, and whom -his sisters did not know. - -March 1st fell on Saturday--any one who is interested to know can -easily discover from that fact the year in which the party was -given--and that made it easy to get the guests together early, without -regard to school. It was better, for Gwen’s sake, to make it an -afternoon party, “quite like little children,” as Gladys remarked with -a slight tendency to dissatisfaction. - -Viva and Jerry found this a most desirable feature of the celebration; -they were ready in spotless white long before the appointed hour. Too -long before; for Jerry was discovered sitting demurely close to the -butler’s pantry door in the dining-room, very quiet and correct, but -with a long streak of chocolate on each cheek, beyond the reach of -her tongue, which had made the lips stainless, and a great smudge of -chocolate and cream filling on the front of her dainty tucked guimpe, -the cause of which Susan correctly traced to the loss of six little -round chocolate-iced cakes from the pantry. - -When the guests began arriving Jan and Gladys were much puzzled by -being called upon to welcome several whom they had not invited, and -whom they had difficulty in receiving as though they had done so. -But Jan was delighted to see again her opponent who had given her -such a hard fight for victory in the tennis contest, and when she had -sufficiently recovered from her surprise at seeing her hailed Molly Van -Buren rapturously. - -Gwen sent for Jan to come to her when all the guests had arrived, and -Jan ran across the hall to her cousin’s room. She found Gwen dressed in -silvery-blue, looking paler for her long confinement, and at least a -quarter of a head taller--Gwen was decidedly up to the modern standard -of girls’ height. - -“Do you know why mamma asked all these girls and boys here to-day, Miss -Lochinvar?” asked Gwen. - -“I should think I did! Gladys and I planned it as a surprise to -you--it’s to celebrate your recovery!” laughed Jan. - -“It’s nothing of the sort!” cried Gwen. “It’s mamma’s secret and mine, -and it’s to celebrate your birthday.” - -“Were you plotting a party, too? Did you remember it was my birthday?” -cried Jan. “Well, of all things! What a memory you have, Gwen! I -haven’t mentioned my birthday but once, ever so long ago, when you -asked me when it came. And to think that Aunt Tina never said a word!” - -“Nor to me either,” Gwen laughingly protested. “Mamma must have been -having rather a pleasant time all by herself, fooling all three of us. -Well, it’s all the nicer. Now, what made me send for you was that I -want to give you your first birthday present, and let you take these -linens off my eyes--I believe you’re such an unselfish old darling that -you’d rather do it than have millions left you.” - -Jan’s color went and came; no one had ever known--hardly she -herself--what a grief the prospect of Gwen’s great sorrow had been to -her. And now this little ceremony moved her proportionately. Her hands -trembled as she unfastened the strings holding Gwen’s long eclipse of -her eyes, and the linen bandages slipped down, and were gone--gone, -thank Heaven, forever! “I’m truly glad to see you, blessed Miss -Lochinvar,” said Gwen as she gazed lovingly at the tearful face of her -cousin, the first she had seen for seven dreary weeks. “Come, now; let -me go with you. Steady me, Jan--the light and walking by sight seems -queer to me.” - -Jan steadied Gwen with her arm around her waist, and felt her tremble, -but she knew that it was with joy. Then, with Gwen’s hand resting on -her shoulder, Jan led her triumphantly down to the parlor. All her -school friends clustered around her, and for a few moments Gwen held -court. Then Sydney came into the middle of the room, and said: “Ladies -and gentlemen, this is a surprise party. Gwen is surprised that Gladys -and Jan have a party, and they are surprised that Gwen has one. So you -are the party and they are the surprise--which isn’t the usual way -of having surprise parties. Gladys and Jan’s party is to celebrate -Gwen’s recovery. Gwen’s party is because it is Jan’s birthday. So -you can consider yourself celebrating which you prefer--for myself -I’m celebrating both with all my might. When our cousin came on we -called her ‘Miss Lochinvar,’ because she ‘came out of the West,’ and -now we think we were sort of prophets, because the name fits her in -lots of ways--chiefly because no one ‘e’er heard of gallant like young -Lochinvar.’ There never was such an all-round trump of a girl as our -cousin Janet Howe, alias Miss Lochinvar. We couldn’t find a picture of -that hero, Jan,” he added, turning to poor Jan, who looked ready to -sink through the floor from embarrassment. “But we wanted to give you a -picture, because you like them so much, and so you could have something -to remember this day by at home if ever you go back--and don’t you dare -to try going! So we got you this copy of Rembrandt’s Polish Rider; it -was the nearest we could come to young Lochinvar.” Sydney then gave -place to Jack, who proudly bore the picture to Jan, remarking briefly: -“Here, Jan. I made the verse.” - -Jan received the large picture timidly, but suddenly she laughed, for -on its wrapping she read this verse of Jack’s: - - Jan: - From Ivan - And the Clan. - -Gwen’s gift was a small, but exquisite, old Italian lamp. “Because you -were my light in darkness,” she whispered, and Jan choked. - -Gladys had characteristically chosen a ring, a slender circle of -turquoise, for her gift. “I want you to wear something to remind you of -me every minute,” she said. - -Viva and Jerry had been included with Jack in the gift of the picture, -but Mrs. Graham gave Jan all the Waverley novels, bound in soft -morocco, and her uncle’s gift was a check for fifty dollars, to do with -as she pleased, and which Jan looked at with wildly joyous visions of -what it would purchase for the young folk in Crescendo. - -Gwen tired soon, and went away for a while to rest before supper while -the others had games and dancing. She reappeared for a short time to -take her place beside Jan at the head of the table, and be waited on -like one of a pair of queen bees, plied with honey, instead of waiting -on her guests, as she would have done at any ordinary party. - -But, as the guests agreed when they departed early, it was not an -ordinary party in any sense, and Jan convulsed her hearers by declaring -that it was nicer--more like a Crescendo party--than any she had seen -in New York. “But,” she added, gloating over her treasures, “it would -be queer if I hadn’t thought it nice.” - -Mrs. Graham, remembering the magnitude of her orders at expensive -caterers, smiled to herself at the notion of Jan’s birthday party -and Gwen’s “thanksgiving party,” as Sydney called it, resembling the -gaieties of Crescendo. But she understood that Jan had meant that it -was more simple and childish than the early-old functions which she had -seen since her arrival, and was well pleased. - -“You’re all so good to me!” sighed Jan, as she kissed her uncle and -aunt good night, with an extra hug for gratitude. “I can’t ever thank -you!” - -“Pshaw! It’s all because we never saw ‘gallant like young Lochinvar,’” -said Sydney, who was standing by. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -“THERE WAS MOUNTING ’MONG GRAEMES OF THE NETHERBY CLAN” - - -The Graham family was at breakfast, the same group assembled--with -the addition of Jan herself--as on that morning nearly half a year -before when Mr. Graham had struck consternation to it, individually and -collectively, by announcing Jan’s coming. - -Susan no longer stood behind Jerry’s chair, for she no longer -misbehaved sufficiently to require special watchfulness, so Susan -supplemented the waitress in small tasks, and now brought in the mail -and laid it at Mr. Graham’s place. - -Mr. Graham sorted it, handed three or four notes to his wife, gave -Sydney a notice from his school-club secretary, handed Jack the paper -with the adventure serial he was pursuing rather than perusing, smiled -as he gave Gladys a pink envelope suggestive of heliotrope and -addressed in a girl’s hand, and kept several letters for himself. - -One of these he read with a lengthening face, and, when his eyes had -traveled down to the foot of the last page, looked over at Jan so -gravely that her heart gave an apprehensive bound, and Gwen exclaimed: -“There’s nothing wrong, is there, papa?” - -“No--at least, yes, I think there is.--Nothing wrong at your home, Jan, -so don’t look so startled, child,” said Mr. Graham, smiling at Jan, who -was waiting his answer with wide, frightened eyes. “Your mother has not -been well, but she’s recovered now; this letter is from your father.” - -“Mamma ill? What was it? Do you suppose she really is well again, Uncle -Howard? What does papa say?” cried Jan. - -“He says--let me see. ‘Tell Jan not to feel the slightest anxiety; I am -not concealing anything from her; her mother is quite herself again, -except for a remnant of weakness. But--’ and the rest is what I do not -like to tell you, and still less to tell my own children.” And Mr. -Graham stopped, frowning hard at Jan. - -“He wants Jan!” guessed Gwen, jumping at the thing she most dreaded. - -“That’s precisely what he does want,” assented her father. “He says it -is now April, and the brief time left in school will not be serious -loss, and Jan’s mother is so hungry for a glimpse of her that he wants -us to send her back to Crescendo. He doesn’t say what he expects us to -do without her.” - -A dead silence fell on the entire table. Gwen and Gladys stared aghast, -Viva turned crimson and began to cry soundlessly, while Jack looked as -though he would like to follow her example. Sydney and his mother both -pushed back their plates with a simultaneous movement, and Jan herself -seemed uncertain whether to be glad or sorry. - -Jerry looked from one to the other; then suddenly her voice pierced the -stillness shrilly: “She’s my Jan, she’s my Jan! She san’t go away f’ -ever’ n’ ever, amen,” she fairly shrieked, and was borne from the room -in a violent fit of coughing by the patient Susan. - -“We can’t express our feelings in precisely the same way as Jerry,” -said Mrs. Graham, “but they are quite as much ours. You are our Jan, -and we really can not let you go.” - -“O Jan! you won’t go, will you?” said Gladys reproachfully. - -“If mamma wants me, and papa says to come, how can I help going?” asked -Jan. - -“I suppose we must admit their claim,” said her uncle. “I’ll tell you -what I’ll do. I’ll write Jan’s father, begging him to spare her a -little while longer, and telling him how dear she is to each of us. If -he is hard-hearted enough to take her in spite of that, we’ll have to -send her to him, with a nice, strong little cable attached, to pull her -back by in a short time.” - -“I don’t think we ought to let mamma wait while we write papa, and he -answers. That will take nearly a week, and if he says mamma has been -sick and wants me, I think I ought to go right away, don’t you?” asked -Jan. - -“O Miss Lochinvar! You want to go?” said Sydney reproachfully. - -“I want to go and stay at the same time,” said Jan truthfully. “I am -just as happy here as I can be, and I love you heaps and heaps, and -when I get back I’ll talk about every one of you until they’ll think -I can’t speak of anything else. But when I think of mamma--and all of -them--why I could fly! You know how you’d feel if you hadn’t seen any -of this family for six months.” - -“There are such quantities of things to do,” said Gwen, speaking for -the first time, though there was no one else to whom the loss of -Miss Lochinvar meant so much as to her. “You haven’t been down to -Trinity nor to St. Paul’s--and you like places where great people are -buried. You’re so crazy about history you must at least see Alexander -Hamilton’s grave--and the Jumel house.” - -“That wouldn’t take long; besides New York will be here when she -returns, for I would put her in the safe-deposit vaults and lock her -up, if I didn’t think she would come back in the fall,” said her uncle. -“Then you would rather not have me write, asking an extension of -time--a stay of proceedings, little Miss Lochinvar?” - -“I think when papa says he wants me, and mamma is longing for me, it -means just that, and it would not be right to keep them waiting,” said -Jan, wishing she were not obliged to choose. - -“It’s a shame, a shame!” cried Jack, emotion, so long suppressed, so -far mastering him that two tears would find their way out, though he -tried to hope that they would be mistaken for coffee. - -“Well, Jack, here’s a chance to be noble. There are people who would -rather another had a treasure than possess it themselves,” smiled Mrs. -Graham. - -“That’s goody-goody people!” said Jack wrathfully, not in a frame of -mind to admire virtue utterly beyond his reach. - -“They’re better than baddy-baddy people at least,” said Gwen. “If Jan -must go, let’s not make it worse.--When would she have to start, papa?” - -“Her father doesn’t say. I think we are entitled to a little time in -which to get used to the amputation,” said Mr. Graham. “I won’t let her -go under a week.” - -“Then we’ll make it a lively week,” said Gwen with a quiver in her -voice indicating no especial liveliness in the speaker. Mrs. Graham -pushed back her chair, and the children all rose; there had been no -more thought of breakfast since the dreadful tidings had fallen upon -them that they were to lose Jan. - -It was the week of the Easter holidays, so there was nothing to -prevent her cousins from devoting themselves to Jan for the short time -remaining. - -The three girls retired to Jan’s room to have a cry and feel better, -though that was not consciously the object of the tears. Tommy Traddles -came stretching and purring to meet them, and Jan caught him to her -heart. - -“O my poor, dear Tommy Traddles!” she cried. “He has got so handsome, -and strong, and loving! And he does play hide and seek so beautifully -with me. Will you promise to take just as good care of him as I do, -Gwen and Gladys? And will you swear--honest, true, black and blue--not -to let him get left behind to starve in the streets when you go to the -country?” - -“Now, Jan, if you suppose we’d be the sort of people to turn an animal -out! Of all the mean, selfish things to do! It makes me furious to -see the poor creatures who are used to being petted wandering around -frightened, sick, and hungry! I don’t see why you ask us such a -thing as that! We don’t have to swear it,” said Gwen, with genuine -indignation. - -“Well, I beg your pardon. I know you wouldn’t, but so many people are -careless,” said Jan contritely. “Syd will look after Drom. And now I’m -going to pack.” - -“If you touch one thing I’ll go crazy!” exclaimed Gladys energetically. -“I could not stand it! I won’t believe you’re going. Get on your things -and come down to your stuffy historical graves, but don’t you pack! You -haven’t the least, dimmest idea of how Gwen and I feel--you don’t care -one bit for leaving us!” - -Jan turned and flung her arms around Gwen and Gladys with a face as -variable as the month, all smiles and tears. “O my dears, my dears! -Yes, I do!” she cried. “I wish I were twins! Can’t you understand how -glad I’ll be to see dear old Crescendo and my precious family, and yet -how I want, and want, and want you? I’d like to go and stay at the same -time.” - -“And we only want you to stay, you see,” said Gwen, trying to smile. -“It’s almost like losing my eyes over again, Janet Lochinvar! You have -been such a dear old darling, and done so much for me!” - -“Not as much as for me,” said Gladys mournfully. “I’m another girl.” - -“Never mind if you are, Gladys; you’re nicer all the time,” said Jan. -“So try to bear up.” - -“We’ll go down and see St. Paul’s, and then we’ll go to Trinity,” -announced Gladys, rising with the air of one ready to sacrifice herself -for the public weal. “And we’ll rally around you every minute that’s -left.” - -“Syd, Jack, will you go with us down in town to explore mustiness for -Jan?” called Gwen up the stairs. And the boys threw themselves on the -banisters, and slid down promptly, ready for any expedition. - -Jan stood, awe-struck, beside the tomb where Alexander Hamilton -was laid to sleep after his tragic end, and where now the hurrying -thousands of the modern city surge up the narrow, steep street skirting -his resting-place in the pursuit of a little of the success he sought, -attained, and which slipped through his fingers at last. - -Still more was she thrilled by the old-time pew in St. Paul’s where -Washington sat praying in his strong heart for the nation struggling -into life. Gwen shared her enthusiasm, and Sydney understood, though he -pretended to laugh at it. But Gladys declared she could not see what -there was to get excited about. Suppose Washington _had_ sat in -that pew, what then? He was a real man, who really lived; he had to -sit somewhere. If it hadn’t been there, it would have been somewhere -else--what was there to make a fuss about? Gladys’s prosaic mind, which -had not a grain of the poet’s nor the student’s element in its make-up, -tolerated, but could not share her cousin’s raptures. - -The Graham quartet dutifully escorted Jan up to the Jumel house, and -up to Columbia Library, and to see the tablet commemorating the battle -of Harlem Heights, but in turn they demanded of her less improving, -and more amusing pilgrimages. They took her down to Manhattan Beach to -see the ocean for the first time, and Miss Lochinvar had to admit that -nothing in the West could equal that stupendous first sight of the -breakers rolling in from England, and tumbling at her feet--though she -retracted the admission with a possible reservation in favor of the -Yellowstone, which she had not seen. And at last there were no more -expeditions, but three days of absolute devotion to one another, in -which Jan packed, while the others watched her rearrange her treasures, -and tried to keep up the cheerfulness which they had agreed must speed -their parting guest, though it was a cheerfulness veiled in deep purple. - -Jan had to have a large new trunk to supplement the shabby little one -with which she arrived, for many and marvelous were the contributions -the Grahams poured into Jan’s hands to take to the children in -Crescendo. - -All the girls--and most of the boys--whom Jan had known since her -arrival came often to see her, for to the surprise, not only of herself -but her cousins, who did not realize that outsiders had felt modest -Janet’s charm, Miss Lochinvar seemed to have won everybody’s affection. -“Come and see me in Crescendo,” she said to them all with boundless -hospitality, and Gladys felt no dismay at the thought that they might -take her at her word; so thoroughly had she learned true values. - -Gwen and Gladys grudged a moment spent on visitors; the moments were -growing so few in which they should see Jan’s pretty face, and watch it -cloud at the thought of parting or break into dimples over something -pleasant. Even Cena North and Dorothy Schuyler were in the way, though -the latter was the one to whom Gwen looked for consolation when she -should be bereft of Jan. - -At last the night came when for the last time Jan should lie down in -her pretty room, and all the cousins hung around her till the latest -possible moment--even Jerry being allowed to sit up until she fell -asleep in Jan’s lap. - -“We’ll keep a diary and send it to each other twice a week--that’s -settled,” said Gwen. “And I want to tell you one thing, Jan. I know now -I was a silly to think North & Company would publish my novel, and I -was a greater silly to think I could write a novel, and the greatest -silly of all to think that it was nicer to be famous than a lovely, -homely girl. If you like to know that you turned your cousin from a -goose into a girl with a grain of sense, you may have that pleasure.” - -“And here’s another,” said Gladys. “You know I’m not quite as bad a -goose as I was, and it’s all your doing.” - -Sydney said nothing then, but when, later, Jan went up to say good -night to Drom, he put out his hand. “I may not get a chance to tell -you to-morrow when they’re all around,” he said, “but I’m getting on -better at school--working better and all that--and I don’t see much of -the wild boys, and I’m getting on fine working with the professor up at -college. And father says I may take up civil engineering if I like, so -I guess I’ll go to college after all. And if you hadn’t come and made -things pleasant here I don’t believe I’d have been anywhere. I thought -you might like to know.” - -“It’s all because you are so good to me that you fancy I’ve done -things. I never did a thing, but just be a humdrum, every-day little -girl,” said Jan. - -“Nothing but be Janet Howe--Miss Lochinvar, I mean; we know,” said -Sydney. And Jan ran down-stairs to cry a little and laugh a little that -on the morrow she was to set out for Crescendo, and to be glad and -grateful that the clan of Graham rated her so inexplicably high. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -“WITH A SMILE ON HER LIPS AND A TEAR IN HER EYE” - - -The household was early astir on the following morning, although Miss -Lochinvar was not to go into the West until early in the afternoon--not -to start, that is. - -But it was a pity to waste time sleeping, when, as Gladys pathetically -said, Jan would have time enough to sleep on the cars when she was all -alone. - -The cook--who was usually as grumpy as her profession seems liable to -make people--outdid herself in her efforts to get up a luncheon-box for -Miss Jan which should lighten her journey and weighten--now isn’t it a -shame there is not such a fine verb as that?--her own slender frame. -Susan was clipping the stems of the flowers she had gone out early to -buy and putting them between damp cotton on the ice in the butler’s -pantry. There seemed to be no one, from the top to the bottom of the -big house, which had struck Jan on her entrance to it as so cold and -empty, who was not eager to show regret at losing, and desire to serve -Miss Lochinvar. - -Gwen and Gladys had begged Jan to bring her things into Gwen’s room, -and let them all dress together, not to lose one moment of the precious -few left them. And it was with no small difficulty that Jan managed her -toilet, for one cousin insisted on buttoning her shoes, while the other -brushed her hair; Gwen tied her ribbon, while Gladys fastened down her -collar in the back, and she was so inundated with tender services, -interspersed with sighs and caresses that she--not being accustomed -to a maid--began to wonder if she should be ready, not merely for -breakfast, but for the train at somewhere about two in the afternoon. - -Viva, the unobtrusive, insisted on her right, as the elder, to take the -place beside Jan at breakfast for which Jerry was clamoring, and Jack -made himself detestable to both his small sisters by appropriating it -for himself while they were disputing. - -The three girls came down like a group of the graces, Jan in the -middle, supported by tall Gwen on one side and Gladys on the other, -each with an arm around Miss Lochinvar, who encircled them with hers. - -Sydney, who did not approve of sentimental affection, though he was -quite as sorry to part with Jan as his sisters could be, laughed as -they entered. “Hang on to one another, girls!” he said. “If you hug Jan -tight enough maybe the train won’t start till three.” - -No one had much appetite that morning--no one but Mr. and Mrs. Graham, -who ate their breakfast with what Viva found almost heartless calmness. -She was not able to conceive of a state of mind in which departures -mean the possibility of return, nor had she journeyed far enough into -life to learn that “journeys end,” not only “in lovers’ meeting,” but -in all kinds of pleasant meetings. Jan’s uncle and aunt were confident -that she would return to them soon, but to the younger folk the -parting seemed eternal, the distance between New York and Crescendo an -impassable gulf, and even the recollection of what and whom awaited her -at the end of her travels could not sustain Jan’s spirits under the -present gloom. - -“I’ll be down to the station, Miss Lochinvar, and start you properly -with the conductor of the train and of the sleeping-car, and with the -porter,” said Jan’s uncle, putting out his hand for a brief farewell. -“I’ve got you a whole section, so you won’t have any one dropping down -on you to-night through the ceiling of your berth, and there’ll be no -one sitting opposite to you through the day. Don’t forget that both -seats are yours, and don’t let any one bother you, by the way. However, -I’ll fix that with the proper authorities.--Get down to the train a -little early, Tina, and see that Jan’s trunks are checked, if I’m a -trifle late--it’s a bad hour to leave Exchange, just before closing, -but I’ll be there. Don’t look so melancholy, chicks; we couldn’t have -the fun of getting Jan back, if we never let her go.” And Mr. Graham -was off, wondering if he had ever taken small events so ponderously. - -“Now, Aunt Tina, when are you all coming out to see us?” asked Jan, -as the family, excepting only its head, gathered in the library with -that tentative feeling of waiting one has when some one is going away, -although it is hours before the time to start. - -“All of us? At once?” laughed her aunt. “Never, I hope, for your -mother’s sake.” - -“Well, when will you let the children come? I want them all--first, the -three oldest, if you won’t send them all at once, and then Jack and -Viva. Still, it would be much better if you let them come with Syd and -Gwen and Gladys to look after them,” Jan persisted. - -“I hardly see how we can arrange the details of their coming just now,” -Mrs. Graham said, smiling at Jan’s earnestness. “You see we are all -disposed of for the next five months at the seashore--and I can not -cease to regret that you could not have at least one week there with -us, for the New England coast is so glorious that you would not feel -that you had seen the sea at Manhattan Beach if you could get a glimpse -of it tumbling in over those piled-up rocks. However, next summer, I -hope, you will. Then after this summer comes school again, and Sydney -will enter college if he keeps up his present pace.” And his mother -smiled proudly at the handsome boy for whom in her secret heart there -was an especial soft spot. “I think the most probable thing is that you -will return to us. It would be very nice if you could come back in the -fall, and if in the summer your mother and one or two of the younger -children could join us. I don’t see much prospect of any of us going -West, Janet, for after Gwen and Gladys are a little further on in their -studies they must go to Europe to learn to see art properly, and to -learn something of other peoples than their own. But we can not plan; -we might be able to make a flying trip with the older children to the -Yellowstone, and stop at Crescendo. There’s no way of being sure of the -future, impatient Miss Lochinvar! If you girls are going to call on the -Misses Larned and Dorothy and Cena before luncheon you would better be -about it, for we must lunch at quarter after twelve to-day. There is -the transfer-wagon at the door, and I hear the man bringing down your -trunk, Jan.” - -Gwen and Gladys mournfully accompanied Jan on her farewell visit to her -teachers, who parted from her with a glimmer of genuine regret showing -through their elaborate expressions of their sense of loss. - -“It has been a great pleasure to teach you, Miss Howe,” said Miss -Larned. “You are faithful to your tasks, docile, and amiable. I trust -that the autumn will bring you back to us.” - -“We wouldn’t be able to bear letting her go if we thought it wouldn’t, -Miss Larned,” said Gwen. - -Dorothy Schuyler and Cena North clung to Jan in precisely the same -manner, though both assured her that they should be at the station to -see her off. Jan only wrenched herself away by dwelling on that fact, -and by promises to write very, very often. - -Sydney met the three distressed girls at the door, as they returned to -luncheon. “Hallo, bluing-bags!” he cheerfully saluted. “They won’t have -to begin watering Fifth Avenue for two or three days yet, will they?” - -“It wouldn’t be so bad to let you go if I could use my eyes to write -you often,” said Gwen, as they mounted the stairs. “But when I think -how lonely I’ll be, and how I can’t write, probably more than two or -three times a week, I can not see how I shall get on.” - -“I’ll write you, and we’ll send that daily journal, and you’ll have -Gladys,” said Jan cheerily. - -Gladys shook her head. “I shall only make it worse,” she said. “She’ll -see a girl around, and it will remind her of you fearfully. Like that -man in our Grecian mythology lesson--what’s his name?--who stood deep -in water, and when he put his head down to drink it all slipped away, -though he was nearly crazy with thirst.” - -“Oh, gracious, Gladys! What nonsense! As though Gwen cared as much -for me as for you--her own sister!” cried Jan. “You’ve all been -getting so well acquainted this winter that you won’t miss me at all, -except at first. And you and Gwen enjoy each other fifty times more -than you did.” And Jan pinched Gwen’s arm to remind her to indorse -these statements, for they had agreed privately that Gladys needed -encouragement in her efforts to be more sensible, and also that she -needed affection to draw out her better side. - -“Yes, that’s so, Glad,” said Gwen promptly. “What with my being sick -and in danger of being blind, and most of all with our having blessed -Miss Lochinvar here to bring us all together, we are a much nicer -family than we were, and I sha’n’t miss Jan anything like as much as -I should if we weren’t getting to be really sisters. And I hope I’ll -help you not to be lonely. And, Jan, I mean to do just what you say -with Viva and Jack and Syd--especially Syd--and with Jerry, too, though -she doesn’t count so much yet. I mean to be nice to them, and get them -to love me and tell me things, and I see what you mean about its being -better to have them than to have fame--though I can’t help hoping I’ll -do something fine in the world yet.” - -“I’m certain sure you will; you can’t help it with all your talents,” -said Jan with the profound conviction so precious to an aspiring but -undeveloped genius. - -“Maybe I can learn to teach the children to like me too,” said Gladys -with new and most becoming modesty, though not with the clearest form -of expression. - -After luncheon, eaten hastily and with a certainty of being late for -her train on the part of the departing one, the Grahams’ landau drove -up to the door. Jan had arrived without other escort than Nurse Hummel, -but there was no question of Miss Lochinvar’s going away in like -manner. There was not one of the Grahams--not even Sydney--who did not -stand on the right to see Jan off. Sydney climbed up on the box with -Henry, and they took Jack between them. Mrs. Graham sat on the back -seat, with Jerry on her knee; Gladys, Jan, and Viva were to ride on the -front seat, with Gwen beside her mother. - -“Come, girls!” called Mrs. Graham, consulting her watch. “Viva, get -out again and tell the girls to come.” Viva ran up the steps and -encountered Jan in the hall, held fast in Nurse Hummel’s capacious -embrace. Norah and Susan, Hannah the cook, and Maggie the laundress -were waiting a chance to shake Miss Lochinvar’s hand and wish her -Godspeed. - -“May der lieber Gott keep you and pring you back quick und safe, -liebchen!” cried Hummie. “I haf not a little girl so goot und -useful among der Americans seen as you. I vish I might shake your -highly-to-be-respected mutter by der hant, und say to her how much -she is lucky to haf you.” And Nurse Hummel reluctantly gave up Jan and -ceased her eloquence, as badly Germanized as usual under emotion, as -Viva cried out that her mother wanted Jan to come at once. - -“Good-by, Miss Janet; good luck to you!” said the other servants -heartily, shaking the firm, warm hand Jan extended. Then with one -parting squeeze for Drom, who implored, with eyes that seemed to see -that Jan was leaving him altogether, to be taken, too, and a kiss on -the glossy head of Tommy Traddles, whom Susan obligingly held, and -who was highly disturbed by the excitement around him, Jan ran down -the long steps which she had ascended for the first time with such -different feelings. Now she could hardly see them for the tears in her -eyes that she should see them no more. - -Tucked tightly in her third of the seat with Gladys and Viva, Jan -looked up at the big house as Henry started away from it. It looked -just as impassive and irresponsive as on the day when she saw it first, -but she loved it, for within its walls she had found love. - -“Don’t eye the house so gloomily, Jan, dear,” said Mrs. Graham. “It is -only waiting for you to come back, and it will not wait long, I hope.” - -At the station they found Dorothy Schuyler and Cena North there before -them, laden with flowers and candy, and a book apiece. Gwen and Gladys -had provided Jan with a book, Sydney and Jack had given her candy and -magazines, and flowers already filled her hands. They could not help -laughing as they saw Dorothy and Cena’s contributions, for Jan could -not have eaten and read on her journey all the food for body and mind -with which she was encumbered if she had been going across the ocean -on one of the slow Atlantic transports. Mr. Graham arrived just as his -wife came back from checking Jan’s trunks; he, too, carried a box of -candy, and stopped dismayed as he saw the supply already in Jan’s hands. - -“Dear me, Janet; I wish I had brought you a box of pepsin tablets, -instead of more sweets! Pray don’t eat all this candy--bestow it on the -crying baby you’re certain to find on the train--it’s always there,” he -said. “Now, we will all go over on the ferry with Miss Lochinvar, -put her snugly in her section, and then sing: ‘Hurrah for the wild -and woolly!’” The smiles that met this effort at cheerfulness on Mr. -Graham’s part were feeble. The escort got into motion, and passed out -on the upper deck of the big ferry-boat, all trying to keep next Jan, -who could not have accommodated them all if she had had more sides than -an octagon. - -[Illustration: The last glimpse of Jan.] - -Mr. Graham and Sydney stowed away her bag and parcels in the rack. -Sydney suggested that they put up a sign, “Fresh every hour,” for -the parcels were so preponderatingly representative of a famous -confectioner. - -“Good-by, Jan. Write every week at least,” cried Dorothy and Cena, -recognizing that Jan’s family had a claim to the last embraces. - -“Good-by, dear little Janet. Tell Jennie to send you back by September -if she doesn’t want me to go out and get you,” said Jan’s uncle, -kissing her warmly. - -“That wouldn’t scare her,” sobbed Jan, clinging to him. - -“Good-by, dear. Tell your mother that I feel as though I had lost -one of the dearest of my own children,” said Aunt Tina, no longer -indifferent, but with something suspiciously like a sob in her voice. - -“So long, Miss Lochinvar. I wish I were going with you,” said Sydney, -clasping both Jan’s hands tight with sixteen-year-old sensitiveness to -kissing his cousin publicly. - -But Jan threw both arms around his neck, and kissed him many times, -quite speechless with emotion, and Sydney did not find it unpleasant to -have her love for him thus proved. - -Jack gave Jan a fierce farewell hug, which she warmly returned. - -Viva and Jerry were hanging on Jan’s neck as the others bade her -good-by, and Mr. Graham had to detach them violently and bear them away -under the inducement of waving their hands to her through the window. - -Gladys kissed Jan good-by, sobbing with all her might. “Please, please -forgive me all over again, dear, dearest Jan,” she whispered. - -Gwen came last of all, and to her Jan clung most fondly, realizing then -that of all the cousins she was leaving, this one was the dearest. - -“I’m glad I had you, Miss Lochinvar,” whispered Gwen, feeling that -this name was the only one with which she could part from Jan. - -Jan did not speak, but the kiss with which she said good-by to -noble-hearted Gwen told her how much Miss Lochinvar loved her. - -The Grahams drew up in line outside the window, wiping away tears with -one hand as they waved the other, and made futile efforts to speak to -Jan through the double glass. - -At last the wheels moved, the train got into motion, and rolled slowly -out of the station. - -Jan knelt on the seat, and pressed her wet face against the glass, -crying, though they whom she was leaving behind could not hear her, -“Good-by, good-by!” - -The last glimpse they had of Jan was a rainbow one, tears running down -her cheeks, while her lips smiled at them. And they turned away toward -the ferry feeling that a big piece of the heart of each of them had -gone with sweet little Miss Lochinvar back into the West. - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber’s Note: - -The text has been preserved as closely as possible to the original -publication with no known changes to spelling or punctuation. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS LOCHINVAR *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Miss Lochinvar</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A Story for Girls</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Marion Ames Taggart</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrators: W. L. Jacobs</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'>Bayard F. Jones</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 9, 2021 [eBook #66018]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Beth Baran, Sue Clark and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Books project.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS LOCHINVAR ***</div> - -<hr class="divider" /> -<h1>MISS LOCHINVAR</h1> -<hr class="divider2" /> - -<div class="x-ebookmaker-drop figcenter width500" id="cover2"> - <img src="images/cover2.jpg" width="500" height="757" alt="Cover" /> -</div> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="x-ebookmaker-drop divider" /> -<div class="figcenter width500" id="frontispiece"> - <img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="500" height="706" alt="Frontispiece" /> - <div class="caption"><p class="center nmb">Janet looked up and down the house which was to be her home.</p> - <p class="right nmt">(See page <a href="#frontis">19</a>.)</p></div> -</div> -</div> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<p class="center p180">MISS LOCHINVAR</p> - -<p class="center p120"><i>A STORY FOR GIRLS</i></p> - -<p class="center p120 mt3">BY<br /> -MARION AMES TAGGART</p> - -<p class="center mt3"><i>Illustrated by<br /> -W. L. Jacobs and Bayard F. Jones</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter width200" id="title"> - <img src="images/title.jpg" width="200" height="213" alt="Title page" /> -</div> - -<p class="center p110">NEW YORK<br /> -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> -1902</p> -</div> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<p class="center smcap">Copyright, 1902<br /> -By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</p> - -<p class="center pr10"><i>Published September, 1902</i></p> -</div> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider2 x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<p class="center lh">TO<br /> -<span class="p120">POLLY AND JO -IN THE WEST</span>.</p> -</div> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_vii"></a>vii</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="contents">CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="Contents"> -<tr> -<th class="tdr">CHAPTER</th> -<th class="tdr2" colspan="2">PAGE</th> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">I.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“Young Lochinvar is come out of the west”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#i">1</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">II.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“He alighted at Netherby gate”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ii">13</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">III.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“So boldly he enter’d the Netherby hall”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iii">28</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IV.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“Among bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers -and all”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#iv">43</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">V.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“And, save his good broadsword, he weapons -had none”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#v">56</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VI.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“He rode all unarm’d, and he rode all alone”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vi">71</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VII.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in -war?”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#vii">88</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VIII.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“He stayed not for brake and he stopped not -for stone”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#viii">102</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IX.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“‘They’ll have fleet steeds that follow,’ -quoth young Lochinvar”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ix">115</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">X.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“For a laggard in love and a dastard in -war”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#x">133</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XI.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“There never was knight like the young -Lochinvar”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xi">146</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XII.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“’Twere better by far to have matched our -fair cousin with young Lochinvar”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xii">159</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XIII.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“‘Now tread we a measure,’ said young Lochinvar”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiii">172</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XIV.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“So faithful in love, and so dauntless in -war”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xiv">188</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr"><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_viii"></a>viii</span> -XV.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“One touch to her hand, and one word in her -ear”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xv">202</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XVI.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young -Lochinvar?”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvi">216</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XVII.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“There was mounting ’mong Graemes of the -Netherby clan”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xvii">233</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">XVIII.—</td> -<td class="tdl smcap">“With a smile on her lips and a tear in her -eye”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#xviii">247</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider2 x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_ix"></a>ix</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="illustrations">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table summary="Illustrations"> -<tr> -<th class="tdr2" colspan="2">FACING PAGE</th> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Janet looked up and down the house which was to -be her home</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">“My dear little niece, you don’t know how glad -I am to see you”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#mydear">37</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The story-telling party</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#thestory">81</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">“You brutes! To treat a little dog like that!”</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#youbrutes">106</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">A ringing cheer announced Jan the victor</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#aringing">124</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The impromptu ball began without the loss of a -moment</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#theimpromptu">181</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">“You’re not going to be blind, not one bit!” said -Jack</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#yourenot">219</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">The last glimpse of Jan</td> -<td class="tdr2"><a href="#thelast">259</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_x"></a>x<br /><a id="Page_1"></a>1</span> -</div> -<p class="center p180">MISS LOCHINVAR</p> - -<h2 id="i">CHAPTER I<br /> -<span>“YOUNG LOCHINVAR IS COME OUT OF THE WEST”</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> big dining-room looked a trifle dreary in spite of the splendor of -its appointments; in spite, too, of the fact that there were enough -children’s faces around the long table to have brightened it. But -though the six owners of these faces ranged between the happy ages of -sixteen and three, and were all healthy young folk, they lacked the -blithe look they should have worn, and so failed in illumining the -stately room.</p> - -<p>The youngest member of the house of Graham, a pretty child, had -wrinkled her brow until it looked like a pan of cream set in a very -breezy dairy. This was because the nurse-maid stood behind her chair, -an indignity little Geraldine—known as Jerry—resented bitterly, -though it recurred at each breakfast and lunch hour. She<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>2</span> showed her -resentment by deliberately putting her spoon, full of oatmeal and -cream, into her mouth upside down every time the maid’s eyes strayed -for a moment, and also, painful though it be to record, by stretching -her kid-shoed foot around her high chair in sly and unamiable attempts -to kick her humiliating attendant.</p> - -<p>The eldest, a boy of sixteen, breakfasted in silence, with a sullen -air of aloofness from his family, and a secretive expression foreign -to his naturally frank and handsome face. The three girls, and one boy -ranging between him and Jerry, seemed rather to regard the meal as -something to be gone through with before they were free to attend to -matters interesting to each, than as a happy hour spent together before -separating for the day.</p> - -<p>The mother of this numerous brood was pretty and graceful, but she -looked harassed, and as though she lived in perpetual fear of missing -an appointment—which was indeed the case.</p> - -<p>Mr. Graham was a broker. Sydney, the oldest boy, said it took all his -father’s time to “be a broker and not broke,” and this was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>3</span> strictly -true. He was immersed in business too deeply to leave time or thought -for much else. He had an expensive family, and though he was accounted -a rich man, the uncertain ways of stocks in rising and falling always -made it possible for him to become a comparatively poor one. So in the -stress of laying the foundations of a handsome inheritance for his six -sons and daughters he had little chance to make their acquaintance, -though he was an indulgent father, and looked forward to the day, which -did not dawn, when he should have leisure to know them.</p> - -<p>It was Mr. Graham who suddenly aroused his inert family to keen -interest in what was going on around them.</p> - -<p>“What day of the month is this—the thirteenth?” he asked, as his eye -fell on the date-line of his newspaper, served with his coffee.</p> - -<p>“Yes; to-morrow is the day for us to dine with the Robesons,” said his -wife.</p> - -<p>“To-morrow is the day for our niece to arrive,” retorted Mr. Graham. -“Don’t forget to have her met, in case it slips my memory to-morrow -when Henry drives me down.”</p> - -<p>“Our niece! Arrives! What can you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>4</span> mean?” -cried Mrs. Graham, in shrill -surprise, as she dropped her fork with a clatter which would have -called down a reprimand on Jerry.</p> - -<p>“I told you, didn’t I?” asked Mr. Graham, with an uneasy recollection -that he had not mentioned the matter, having a cowardly doubt as to -how his tidings would be received. “It’s my sister’s little girl—my -sister Jennie, you know, who married and settled out west in Crescendo. -Jennie’s husband has made her very happy—he’s a first-rate fellow—but -he hasn’t made her, nor any one else, including himself, rich. I -imagine they have to scramble along on rather slender provision for -a large brood; they have a big family. I don’t hear from Jennie very -often, and she never complains, but her last letter—it came nearly -two months ago—had a tone of sadness, and betrayed more than she -realized of anxiety. I answered it, and I told her to send her oldest -girl—Joan—Jane—no, Janet—Janet on here to us to go to school with -our girls this winter. She’s about Gwen and Gladys’s age. She won’t -be any trouble to us, and I fancy it will be considerable help to her -mother. So Jennie’s husband wrote me that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>5</span> the child would come, and -she’ll be here to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>Gwendoline, the oldest girl, who was fifteen; Gladys, the second -one, who was thirteen; seven-year-old Genevieve, and Ivan, a boy of -nearly eleven, stared at each other and at their parents in dumb -amazement. Mrs. Graham flushed with annoyance; only the presence of the -waitress and little Geraldine’s despised custodian restrained her from -expressing that annoyance forcibly. As it was, she said: “I can not -understand, Mr. Graham, how you could have added the care of another -child to me, who have six of my own to look after, without so much as -consulting me in the matter!”</p> - -<p>“But you don’t look after us, mamma,” said Ivan, quite cheerfully, -and with no idea of complaining. “You are too busy with all your -committees and teas and clubs and things. So she won’t be any bother, -and maybe she’ll be nice.” Ivan—who despised his Russian name, and had -succeeded in compelling his family to call him Jack as soon as he had -learned the names were equivalent to each other—was a warm-hearted, -hot-tempered, honest little fellow, who did not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>6</span> seem to belong to the -city splendors. “Jack had reverted,” his father said, “to his ancestral -stock”; one could easily imagine him happily driving cows on his -grandfather’s farm among the New Hampshire hills.</p> - -<p>“I admit, my dear, that it was not quite fair to spring this little -girl on you, as Jack would say, but I think the boy takes the true view -of it. One girl more or less will not matter in a family like this one, -and all the difference she will make will be a third bill to me for -tuition at Miss Larned’s school,” said Mr. Graham, trying to speak with -an assurance he did not feel.</p> - -<p>“But to us, papa!” cried Gladys, reproachfully. “It will mean more -than that to us. Gwen and I will have to introduce her to the girls; -she will expect to go about with us, and just fancy a poor girl from a -little Western town in our set!”</p> - -<p>Gwendoline—Mrs. Graham had had the happy thought of naming all her -daughters with the same initial, repeating that of their family -name—Gwendoline laughed scornfully at her sister’s remark. “I believe -I should rather<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>7</span> enjoy livening up those girls,” she said. “I honestly -don’t see how she could have worse manners than some of them if she -came off an Indian reservation. You know, I just despise those silly, -giggling, affected girls, with their grown-up nonsense. They’re not all -like that, though. But then the nice ones would understand and make -allowance for her being a girl from a little town—nice people always -understand, I’ve noticed that. But what I think is she’ll be a nuisance -around the house. Goodness knows, I don’t want one single person more -to make a noise and get under foot when I want to do things!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, all you care for is writing, or daubing, or singing, or spouting -plays!” began Gladys, wrathfully; but little Genevieve, whom they -called Viva, interrupted her: “I wish she wasn’t so big. Are you -certain sure, papa, she’s as old as Gwen and Gladys? Because there -doesn’t be any one to play with me in this house.”</p> - -<p>“She is fourteen,” said Mr. Graham. “And, Gwen and Gladys, I wish -you to remember that this Janet Howe is your own cousin, my sister’s -child, and I want you to treat her kindly and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>8</span> make her happy. Many’s -the scrape her mother got me out of when I was a boy at home. There -never was a better sister than Jennie; no boy could have dreamed -an improvement on her. I always preferred her as a companion to my -brothers; she could row, fish, and bait her own hook and take off her -fish when she had caught them, too!—and she was as sweet-tempered and -loving as the day was long. I often wish you children were the friends -Jen and I used to be! But you each go your own way, and neither cares a -pin for any one else’s interests. Perhaps it is the result of living in -New York instead of in the peaceful town where I was born.”</p> - -<p>The children rarely had heard any reference to their father’s early -days, and they listened to this outburst with an interest that made -them forget their grievance for a moment. Then Jack spoke: “Do you -suppose that this girl is as nice as her mother, papa?” he said. “Do -you suppose she can bait a hook and sail a boat?”</p> - -<p>“Those things are not always inherited,” his father answered, laughing. -“There is not much chance to fish or sail in the middle of a prairie, -and Crescendo is a prairie town. But I have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>9</span> no doubt that your cousin -Janet will be as nice a little girl as you could find anywhere. I can’t -conceive of Jennie having any other than a nice daughter, and I am sure -you will be very grateful to me for getting her here.”</p> - -<p>“I shan’t be,” said Gladys, decidedly. “I can’t possibly go about with -a Wild West Show, papa.”</p> - -<p>“Gladys,” said her father, in a tone his children rarely heard. “You -forget to whom you are speaking, and that you are speaking of my -dearest sister’s daughter. Let me hear one more syllable like that, or -see one glimmer of that spirit toward your cousin Janet, and you will -be sent to a boarding-school, where you will not go about with any -one. I shall invite whom I please to my own house, and my daughters -will treat them with courtesy. Remember what I say, and you, too, -Gwendoline, Sydney, Jack, and Viva.”</p> - -<p>Gwen laughed good-naturedly. “I won’t treat her badly, papa, though you -can’t expect me to be precisely glad she is coming,” she said.</p> - -<p>Gladys looked sullen, but Jerry saved the day by stretching her arms -very wide, a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>10</span> piece of bread in one hand, her dripping teaspoon in -the other. “I will love her,” she announced, speaking for the first -time; she had been turning from one to the other during this exciting -conversation. “I will div her my o’meal po’dge, out of er spoon wight -side up. An’ I’ll let Tsusan ’tand ahind her tchair,” added the small -hypocrite, nodding her golden curls benignly, and turning to smile -beatifically at her nurse-maid.</p> - -<p>It was impossible not to laugh at this noble exhibition of generosity, -and with this laugh the breakfast party broke up.</p> - -<p>“It is really very trying, Howard, to have a girl, of whom we know -nothing, and just the age of our girls, thrust upon our poor dears for -the entire winter, not to mention my part of the burden,” said Mrs. -Graham, as she followed her husband into the hall. “I really can not -blame poor Gwen and Gladys for feeling as they do. I should have said -more myself, but that I did not care to discuss family matters before -the servants, or encourage the children in their apprehensions, and -their tendency to disobey you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>11</span> -“Oh, it will be all right, Tina!” said Mr. Graham, easily. “We have -talked about it too long; a small girl of fourteen or so is not worth -so much discussion. I’ll meet you to-night at seven, if you like, at -Delmonico’s, and we’ll go to the theater after we dine. Henry can bring -down my evening clothes when he meets me. I have a directors’ meeting -after Exchange closes, and I can’t get home to dress before dinner.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Graham’s face cleared, as her husband felt sure that it would, -at this proposition, but she said reproachfully, as she kissed him -good-by: “You know our club has its semiannual dinner to-night, Howard, -and you promised to come later and hear the speeches.”</p> - -<p>“Merciful powers! Don’t mention such trifles as an extra girl or two in -the house after that!” groaned Mr. Graham, in mock despair, as he got -into his overcoat. “I really believe I did!”</p> - -<p>“When did you say that this Miss Lochinvar was to come out of the West, -father?” asked Sydney, delaying on his way through the hall. Throughout -the discussion at the table the eldest born had not spoken.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>12</span> -“To-morrow; will you go with one of the girls in the carriage to meet -her?” asked his father, looking up with a laugh for the apt nickname.</p> - -<p>“Couldn’t possibly; I am booked for football with our team,” said -Sydney, resuming his way, having stopped as his father spoke. “I wish -Miss Lochinvar joy, though; if she has plenty of brothers and sisters -she’s likely to be lonesome in this crowd.”</p> - -<p>Gwendoline and Gladys sauntered along as he said these words, and -stopped short with a peal of exultant laughter. “Miss Lochinvar! Well, -if that isn’t the very best name for her!” they cried in a breath. “We -shall always call her that. Isn’t Sydney too clever!” But in Gwen’s -laugh there was only pure amusement at the fun of the thing, while in -Gladys’s mirth there was a ring of spite.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>13</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="ii">CHAPTER II<br /> -<span>“HE ALIGHTED AT NETHERBY GATE”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> question of meeting the little stranger from Crescendo was solved -by sending Nurse Hummel to the station, as probably any one of the -Graham family could have prophesied that it would be. Most things in -that household connected with a child fell into Nurse Hummel’s hands. -She had come to take charge of Sydney when he was a youth one month -old, with more nebulous features than are considered desirable for -perfect beauty. Consequently she had presided over the earliest moments -of the life of each of the succeeding Graham babies; had nursed them -with love no mere money could recompense through childish and more -serious illnesses, and cherished them with all the warmth of her big -German heart, early bereft of the love of her husband and her own only -little child.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>14</span> -To Nurse Hummel the Grahams repaired with their griefs, not to their -busy mother; and “Hummie” was so fond of them that while they were -small they did not realize that there were children whose mothers could -give them more attention than theirs did, and that mother-love is more -satisfactory than any other.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Graham found at the last moment that she could not send Henry with -the horses all the way over to the West Twenty-third Street Ferry; but -Nurse Hummel was despatched, with instructions to select a hansom drawn -by a lively horse, and to come up-town by the way of Fifth Avenue, so -“Miss Lochinvar” would certainly enjoy her drive—probably enjoy it -more than if she had been shut up in the Grahams’ more elegant brougham.</p> - -<p>The new cousin was not to arrive until afternoon, a fortunate thing, -for though it never occurred to either Gwendoline or Gladys to go to -meet her, they were most curious in regard to her, and very anxious to -be in the house when she reached it.</p> - -<p>They were ensconced behind the long lace curtains of the library on the -second floor, perfectly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>15</span> hidden, yet seeing perfectly, when the hansom -drove up.</p> - -<p>Janet Howe had not talked much during that drive, though Nurse Hummel -tried in her most motherly way to draw her out. She thought that the -little girl was bewildered into silence by the splendor, confusion, -and hubbub of the second city of the world, but though this was in a -measure true, it was not the main cause of Janet’s quietness.</p> - -<p>All the way during the last half of her two days’ journey—the first -half being given up to longing for the beloved faces and little house -which she had left behind—Janet had let her thoughts leap forward to -the dear cousins, the aunt and uncle who were awaiting her. She was -all ready to love them; she <em>did</em> love them, for they were her -blessed mother’s kindred, who were so good to her in taking her into -their hearts and home, in letting her share the wealth she knew they -possessed, and in sharing one another with her. She knew the names and -ages of each one of them; that Sydney was very handsome and Gwen very -clever. All the Howes knew their Eastern cousins literally by heart,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>16</span> -for they occupied in the minds of the little folk in the plain house -in Crescendo a position something between an embodiment of perfect -kinship and the princes and princesses of the fairy tales. And Janet -knew and loved her Aunt Tina and her dearest Uncle Howard with positive -worship, heightened, if possible, by their kindness to her in offering -her this winter in New York. Her mother had talked to the children of -her happy girlhood with her brother, until every little brook, every -shaded path and meadow in the distant New Hampshire home, and every -trick of voice and manner of this favorite brother Howard were as -familiar to them as were their own lives and one another. Janet felt -quite sure that when she descended upon the platform in the station and -found all the Grahams drawn up in line to meet her, waving their hands -and laughing—for that was the way the Howes always welcomed a stray -guest to Crescendo—that she should be able to pick out each one with -perfect accuracy. She should make no mistake as to which was Sydney, -and which was Jack—she couldn’t very well, since there was nearly six -years’ difference<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>17</span> between them—nor which was Gwen and which Gladys, -and quiet Viva, and dear little Geraldine, for whom she hungered most -of all because she was precisely the age of her own precious youngest -sister, her pet Poppet, as she called little Elizabeth. When she did -descend upon the platform on the Jersey City side, a trifle sobered by -the vastness of the station, the rush of the crowd, and the babel of -sounds, there was no line of merry young faces anywhere in sight, no -one that could be Uncle Howard or Aunt Tina, not even one who could be -Sydney, Gwen, or Gladys. Janet caught her breath with a sharp pain, -half fright, half bitter disappointment, and looked wildly around at -the mad-appearing passengers, tearing through the chilly station with -as frantic haste to catch the lumbering ferry-boat as if it had been as -fast as a Bandersnatch.</p> - -<p>Just at that dreadful moment a woman in iron gray—all round, face, -body, gait, and all—came toward Janet, smiling with sufficient -expansiveness to cover the lack of several other smiles. “Is this -little Miss Janet Howe from Crescendo?” she asked, with just enough -of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>18</span> German accent familiar in the West to make this meek, girlish -Lochinvar feel comforted.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes. Where are my aunt and uncle, and my cousins?” cried Janet. -“And who are you, if you please?”</p> - -<p>“I am Nurse Hummel, and I’ve come to take you to your friends,” said -the rotund creature, with such assurance that “all was right in the -world” that Janet began to suspect herself of unreason in expecting her -relatives to meet her.</p> - -<p>“None of them could get down here to-day, but that doesn’t matter. -You’ll soon find out that Nurse Hummel looks after all of you. I have -taken care of every Graham child of them all since Master Sydney was a -month old. Give me your check.”</p> - -<p>Nurse Hummel led the way, and Janet followed, somewhat reassured, but -still with the lurking sense of disappointment. The capable woman gave -the check for Janet’s battered little trunk to a transfer express, and -put the child into a cab, drawn by the most frisky, high-headed horse -at the New York side of the ferry. Then she got in herself, not without -audible<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>19</span> maledictions on joints that were less limber than in her youth.</p> - -<p>When the interesting, but confusing, drive ended in the frisky horse -being pulled up so short before the Graham’s door that he almost sat -down on his pathetic, docked tail, <a id="frontis"></a>Janet looked up and down the house -which was to be her home for many months. She saw a high, brownstone -structure, differing not at all, apparently, from a long line of such -edifices stretching westward from Fifth Avenue as far as she could see, -and eastward again across it. Not a sign of life could she espy; not a -curtain moved; not a face smiled at her; not a hand waved, still less -was there the shouting, gesticulating bevy of cousins on the front -steps which she had hoped to see.</p> - -<p>But she was not arriving unnoted. Behind the curtains on the second -floor five eager faces peered out to catch the first glimpse of her. -The Graham children saw a short girl, not quite as tall as Gladys, with -soft, rounding curves throughout her body; a face that was decidedly -pretty, but very pathetic; with big, wistful brown eyes, looking -as if they might quickly be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>20</span> hidden by tears; brown hair, curling -around a broad, white forehead; a skin with a hint of brown beneath -its whiteness, and full, red lips meeting in soft curves, fashioned, -unmistakably, for smiling, but now drooping at the corners in an -attempt to keep them from quivering. They saw also a brown skirt and -jacket, with reddish tints occasionally, showing wear, and revealing, -to more experienced eyes, the fact that they had originally been made -up with the other side of the goods out. A hopelessly unstylish hat -surmounted the beautiful masses of red-brown hair, and woolen gloves -completed a costume that made Gladys groan aloud at its confirmation of -her worst fears. But Gwen, truly artistic, and with truer standards of -judgment than her sister’s, unguided though they were, saw the facts -which the shabbiness of her new cousin’s garments could not conceal -from her more observant eyes.</p> - -<p>“She’s awfully pretty, Gladys,” she said. “And she looks like a lady, -and she looks sweet, and—and—oh, I don’t know—trusty, like a dog. -And, dear me, she is really <em>awfully</em> pretty; ever so much -prettier than either of us.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>21</span> -Gladys gave a derisive sniff. “Pretty! Well, so she might be, if -she looked decent, but, for goodness’ sake, what clothes! Why, our -laundress’s girl looks better! Fancy taking such a guy to school! I -shall die of mortiffication.”</p> - -<p>Gwen actually laughed. “Mor<em>tif</em>-fication, Gladys? Maybe bad -pronunciation is as bad as old clothes, if you stop to think about it. -And Mary Ellen Flynn does wear citified things, and frizzes and cheap -lace, and so on, but I don’t know that I think she looks better than -that girl down there. At any rate, I suppose there are other clothes -in New York, and if it would save your life, we might make her look -decent.”</p> - -<p>“I think she looks as though she could fish and sail a boat, too,” -said Jack, who, while his sisters were frivolously discussing mere -externals, had been silently considering the new cousin from the more -important viewpoint of her possible inheritance of her mother’s talents.</p> - -<p>In the meantime, Norah, the waitress, had admitted Nurse Hummel and her -charge, and poor Janet was heavy-heartedly climbing the long flight of -stairs, without a voice to hail her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>22</span> coming. “We always meet people -at home, Mrs. Hummel,” she said at last, in a trembling voice, as -she paused at the landing to turn back to her guide, following with -shortened breath. “Aren’t they glad to see me?”</p> - -<p>“What nonsense; just nonsense!” declared Nurse Hummel, with the -increase of accent always perceptible when she was moved. “There iss -different customs, that’s all. Ve iss not der same as you in der -Vest. My younk ladies iss vaiting you in der library, alretty. Yet it -vouldn’t haf hurt if someone came out mit greetings vonce,” she added -to herself, half minded to be indignant for the coldness shown the -little stranger, whose sweet and charming ways had immediately won her -affection.</p> - -<p>As Nurse Hummel’s solid tread, passing Janet’s light one in the hall, -fell on the ears of the group in the window, all but Jack and Viva -stepped hastily forward, anxious not to appear to have been indulging -in surreptitious curiosity.</p> - -<p>Nurse Hummel opened the door. “My dears,” she said, “here iss your -cousin, quite safe, und as glad to see you as you are to see<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>23</span> her.” And -she gently pushed Janet past her toward her relatives.</p> - -<p>“How do you do?” said Gladys, in her most grown-up, and, as she fondly -flattered herself, most elegant air. “I hope you are not too tired -after your journey.” With which enthusiastic speech of welcome she bent -gracefully forward and lightly pecked Janet’s cheek, apparently not -seeing that the fresh young lips were ready to be met by hers.</p> - -<p>Now Gladys’s affectations always exasperated Gwen beyond bearing, no -matter what called them forth, and she was really sorry for her cousin, -who looked as bewildered as hurt by this piece of nonsense. So it was -a commingling of temper and kindliness which made her own manner more -than usually simple and hearty as she put her arms around Janet and -kissed her, saying, “You look very nice, Janet, and I hope you will -like New York and us.”</p> - -<p>Janet raised her wet eyes to the tall girl above her, returning the -kiss with warmth and interest. “You’re Gwen, the clever one; I am -sure I shall just love you,” she said, and Gwen smiled with sincere -pleasure.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>24</span> -“Hallo, Jack! hallo, Viva!” cried Janet, partly restored to -cheerfulness by Gwen’s welcome, and glad to display her ready knowledge -of her family. “Come out here, and let me see you better. You don’t -know how I miss Bob and Nannie; they’re your ages. And Geraldine! If I -don’t love babies, then I don’t love anything on this whole earth! Do -you think I’d scare her if I kissed her? Is she shy? Poppet is—just at -first, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t think she’s at all shy!” said Gladys. “She sees so many -people; mamma receives a great deal, and Jerry sees quantities of -people, because they always think they have to ask for the youngest. -She isn’t much to rave over; she’s a cross, spoiled little kid, I -think.”</p> - -<p>Janet stared at this remark, both because she had been taught that -slang was not well-bred, and Gladys was so very fine-ladified, and -because she could not imagine any one taking that attitude toward her -baby sister. Jerry stamped her foot. “I’m not tross! You are tross, -Tladys Traham! I love dis new one better’n you.” And she turned with -an angelic smile to throw herself into Janet’s outstretched<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>25</span> arms, -which closed on her as their owner gave a quick sob, fancying they held -Poppet to her breast.</p> - -<p>“You’re a darling, pretty, little petsy-cousin,” declared Janet, with -such unmistakable sincerity that Jerry melted still more.</p> - -<p>“An’ you’re a darlin’, pretty, <em>bid</em>, pets’ tousin,” she retorted. -And from that instant Janet had one devoted adherent in her new home.</p> - -<p>“Why do they call you Miss Lochinvar?” asked Viva, suddenly. She had -been considering Janet with her own grave thoughtfulness, and her -question fell like a bomb upon the ears of her shocked sisters.</p> - -<p>Janet looked quickly from one to the other of her two elder girl -cousins.</p> - -<p>“I hope you won’t mind, Janet; Syd called you that the morning we heard -you were coming, and it was so nice we couldn’t help adopting it,” said -Gwen, her color mounting high. “He didn’t mean it unkindly; neither did -we. It was only because you were coming ‘out of the West,’ you know. -You don’t mind, do you?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t mind. Why should I?” replied<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>26</span> Janet, with an uneasy little -laugh. “Young Lochinvar carried everything before him. It is rather -complimentary. And you might as well call me Jan. They always do at -home; Janet seems so long. Though, of course, if you like it better, it -doesn’t matter.”</p> - -<p>“No; Jan is cozy, and it suits you somehow,” said Gwen. “Don’t you -want me to take you to your room? You must be tired, and feel all over -cinders; I always do after I have been traveling.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks. Is Aunt Tina away?” asked Janet timidly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, mamma is out; she has no end of things to attend to; she isn’t at -home much,” said Gladys. “We are all dreadfully busy; I never have a -moment myself! Papa dines here—no, he doesn’t either! Papa and mamma -dine out to-night. Well, that’s just the way. You’ll find New York -rather different from a little town.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll find New York very nice, and full of all sorts of things; it’s -too big to be all one way,” said Gwen, filled with an unsisterly desire -to shake Gladys’s high-and-mighty air out of her, as she saw the blank -look of loneliness that came<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>27</span> over the pretty, sensitive face before -her. “Come up-stairs with me.—Gladys, you may tell the girls I won’t -be around to-day.—Viva, you go with Hummie and Jerry.—Come on, Jan.”</p> - -<p>Janet followed the one friendly person, except the big nurse Gwen -called “Hummie,” whom she had met in this strange household. Gwen put -her arm around the little brown figure, and Jan returned her pressure, -yet she kept her eyes down on the way up-stairs, lest Gwen should see -the tears, and she could not help feeling that she had passed through -a sort of mental Russian bath, plunging from the warm affection of her -own humbler home, and her loving anticipations of this new one, into -the actual chill of her welcome to it.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>28</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="iii">CHAPTER III<br /> -<span>“SO BOLDLY HE ENTER’D THE NETHERBY HALL”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Janet</span> could not repress a cry of pleasure as Gwen threw open the door -of her room, despondently as she had approached it. It was one of the -smallest rooms in the large house, but it was quite big enough for one -small girl, and it was so pretty! The furniture was bird’s-eye maple; -the paper, carpet, hangings, all a harmony of soft old-rose color; and -the few pictures both good and cheerful.</p> - -<p>“Is this really my room?” cried Jan, who had loved the big, bare, sunny -room at home, which she had shared with her two sisters next in order -to her, but who had always longed secretly for a lovely room, such -as she read of in her favorite stories, and which should be all her -own. And now, behold, here was her wish gratified beyond her wildest -imaginings—at least,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>29</span> while she was an inmate of her uncle’s household.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Do you really like it? It isn’t very large, but maybe you won’t -mind,” said Gwen, looking around her critically. “The next room is the -nursery. Hummie sleeps there, and Jerry’s crib is there; Viva does -her lessons there in the morning—she has a governess; she hasn’t -begun school. If you want anything, you must go in to Hummie—that’s -headquarters for any Graham in distress. Gladys has the middle room on -this floor, and mine is the back one; Viva has the one beside mine at -the end of the hall. We won’t hear one another much, because the house -is so dreadfully deep, and the dressing-rooms are between the chambers; -that’s one good thing. Syd calls this floor ‘the hennery,’ because all -the girls’ rooms are here. I told him that I didn’t mind; if he and -Jack were roosters, it was proper they should roost above us—they are -on the next floor, you know. And he didn’t like it, though I think my -joke is quite as good as his—it’s the same joke, in fact.” And Gwen -laughed in malicious enjoyment of these exquisite sallies of wit.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>30</span> -Janet had been looking out of the window, and discovered that the -identity of the architecture of the houses in the street was less than -she had taken it to be; there were many points of difference between -her uncle’s house and his neighbors’, though the uniform brownstone -made them drearily similar to eyes used to long stretches and plenty -of space. But she had also caught a glimpse of trees and grass as she -leaned out, and she drew her head in to inquire of Gwen what they -meant, forgetting the pretty room, and not hearing what her cousin had -been saying.</p> - -<p>“That is Central Park; the entrance is just above us, at Fifty-ninth -Street,” said Gwen, wondering at Jan’s brightening eyes. “It is nice to -have it so near; I often go there to think out my plans—stories and -poems and such things—and Glad and I are learning to ride.”</p> - -<p>“I know you are awfully clever. Uncle sent mamma some of your poetry, -cut out of a magazine,” said Janet, removing her hat and shaking out -her masses of warm-tinted, curling hair.</p> - -<p>“Oh, my, what bea-u-tiful hair!” cried Gwen involuntarily. “And what -lots of it! If<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>31</span> that doesn’t make that conceited old Daisy Hammond turn -green when she sees it! She’s so vain of her hair, it fairly disgusts -one! Oh, those verses were only in the back part of St. Nicholas, where -the children’s things are. It was ever so long ago—certainly two -years. I hope I can do better than that now.”</p> - -<p>“Do you expect to write when you are grown up?” asked Jan, with the awe -for a person who could look forward to such a career natural to a girl -who dearly loved books, and who felt that they who made them belonged -to an order of beings apart from common mortals.</p> - -<p>“I can’t tell,” said Gwen, seating herself on the bed beside her cousin -and taking her knee into the clasp of both her hands—it was not often -that she found any one willing to listen to her hopes, much less treat -them with positive veneration. “You see,” she continued, “I can paint -just as well as I can write, and my teacher says I have a very good -voice. I might become an artist instead of an author, or I might go -on the stage and become a great opera singer, like Melba. I shouldn’t -like you to mention it, Jan, because they all—except mamma—make<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>32</span> fun -of me, but I mean to make a big name for myself somehow, and as long -as I do that I don’t care which way I do it. Gladys likes society, -and dress, and such stuff,” continued the ambitious young person, -with withering scorn, “but I want to be something that is something. -It’s pretty hard, though, when you’re one of such a dreadfully big -family. I would like to get off by myself on a desert island, like -Robinson Crusoe, and only see them on birthdays, and Christmas, and -Thanksgiving, and such times.”</p> - -<p>“Mercy!” exclaimed Jan, rather shocked, though she realized that genius -was not to be measured by ordinary standards. “That would never suit -me.”</p> - -<p>“What do you want to do? What’s your special talent?” asked Gwen.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t any,” replied Jan. “Unless,” she added, with a twinkle, “it -is a talent to wash and dress children, and dust, and wash dishes, and -make cake, and those things—I can do all that.”</p> - -<p>“How perfectly awful!” cried Gwen with conviction. “You poor little -soul, have you been leading such a poky, drudge’s life as that? I am -glad, then, that papa got you here, after all.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>33</span> -Janet was too quick-witted to miss the implication that Gwen had not -always been glad of her coming, but she said with spirit: “You needn’t -pity me, Gwen, for no girl ever had more fun than I have. I like to do -those things—at least, usually I do.” Jan was too honest not to leave -a margin for those occasions when household tasks had been irksome. “I -have the very nicest home in all the world, and it would be bad enough -if I weren’t willing to do something in it! And we children have the -loveliest times—you ought to see what a splendid little crowd they -are! I don’t know, but I shouldn’t wonder if—” Jan stopped short, not -wishing to impart to her cousin her first impression that the Grahams -were less happy than the Howes.</p> - -<p>Gwen was too preoccupied to notice the halt. “And what do you mean to -do, then, when you are grown up?” she insisted.</p> - -<p>Jan hesitated. “I believe,” she said slowly, “I don’t want to be very -much of anything—not anything famous or showy, I mean. Papa says it -is hardest, and greatest of all, to be a true-hearted, noble woman who -makes home happy and helps everybody to be good. I believe I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>34</span> would -rather do that—be the sort of woman mamma is—than anything.”</p> - -<p>“What sort of woman is she?” asked Gwen respectfully; the glow in Jan’s -eyes and the loving tremor in her voice impressed the girl, who had -never had this side of life presented to her aspirations before.</p> - -<p>“She is so cheery and kind, she makes you feel better, no matter how -miserable you are, if she just walks through the room,” said Jan. “She -never thinks of herself at all—it keeps us busy to stop her going -without things for us all the time. She never is too tired to listen to -our fusses, nor too busy to unsnarl us. She never says a word if she is -sick or troubled, but puts it all out of sight so no one else will be -unhappy, too. And she makes time, somehow, for her neighbors’ troubles. -And she not only cooks, and sews, and nurses us children, but she reads -to us, and talks to us, and we each feel as though we were all alone -in the world with her. And she never breaks a promise to us, whether -it is to do something pleasant for us or to punish us, and she is -never the least wee bit partial or unjust. And when we’re bad, or have -crooked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>35</span> days, she is so patient! And she just loves us straight and -good. And there isn’t one of us that wouldn’t just die if we thought we -had deceived or disappointed her, because she trusts us. And everybody -wonders why the Howe children are so square, and honorable, and good, -on the whole. As if they could help being—with such a mother! -Oh, I love her, I do love her!” And Jan’s tears rolled over as she -remembered how many miles now separated her from this dear woman, and -how long it must be before she held her tight in her arms again.</p> - -<p>Gwen sat motionless, looking down on the long fingers clasping her -knee, as Jan stopped speaking. Her face was sweet and serious, although -a trifle puzzled. Jan had given her an entirely new point of view, had -filled her mind with new thoughts; and it was a fine mind, guiding a -noble nature, both quite capable of appreciating the picture her cousin -had painted.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Jan,” she said at last, to Jan’s surprise, as she rose to -leave her. “I think I see what you mean. I shouldn’t wonder if your -ambition was better than mine; I mean to think<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>36</span> that over. By and by -you’ll tell me more about Crescendo and Aunt Jennie; I wish I knew her; -I wish—” Here Gwen stopped in her turn. “Don’t be homesick, and don’t -mind Gladys. She is so silly that it doesn’t mean one thing. Come down, -when you get ready, to the library—where we were when you came. Papa -will want to speak to you before he goes out. And don’t miss those nice -people too much; we’ll try to be decent, and I guess you’ll like New -York. I’ll tell Norah to have your trunk sent up when it comes.”</p> - -<p>Gwen left the room with a smile intended to be reassuring, but which -was rather wistful, and Jan proceeded to wash away the tears, which she -immediately checked, and with them the cinders from her long journey.</p> - -<p>The little trunk was long coming, and while Janet was wondering whether -she should go down without waiting for it Viva knocked softly at her -door.</p> - -<p>“O Viva, darling, I’m so glad it’s you! Come in and talk to me,” cried -Jan.</p> - -<div class="figcenter width500" id="mydear"> - <img src="images/i050-2.jpg" width="500" height="745" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">“My dear little niece, you don’t know how glad I am to -see you.”</div> -</div> - -<p>“I can’t, Janet, because papa sent me up to say, won’t you please come -down and talk to him<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>37</span> for half an hour before he gets dressed to go -out?” said Viva gravely.</p> - -<p>“If you’ll just wait till I braid my hair,” said Jan, kissing the pale -little face, from which dark eyes looked out seriously upon her. “Has -auntie come home, too?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; mamma’s in,” said Viva. “If I were you, I’d let my hair hang all -around like that. It’s so very, very pretty. You are pretty, too; much -prettier than Gwen and Gladys—Gwen said so, too.”</p> - -<p>“‘Pretty is that pretty does,’ you know, little cousin,” laughed Janet. -“Gladys is graceful and stylish, and Gwen looks clever; besides she has -perfectly glorious eyes. Come, then, if you think I’m nicer with my -hair crazy.” And Jan took the hand extended to her with a sinking of -the heart of which she was ashamed.</p> - -<p>“My dear little niece, you don’t know how glad I am to see you,” said -a voice heartily as she entered the library, and then she felt a -warm kiss on each cheek, mingled with the odor of a very good cigar. -After this Janet ventured to lift her eyes. She saw a handsome man, -keen-eyed, yet smiling, looking at her closely, while<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>38</span> from across -the room a pretty woman in a beautiful <em>negligée</em> came languidly -toward her. “How do you do, child? I hope you are not too tired,” she -said, in a manner recalling Gladys as much as the words did. Janet -kissed this new aunt, but her eyes wandered back to her uncle, seeking -a resemblance in him to her mother. He smiled upon her, and said: “You -are like Jennie in expression more than in features. By Jove, I wish -she were here, too! Dear little woman!” Janet’s lip quivered, and her -uncle quickly drew her beside him upon the couch.</p> - -<p>“Now tell me everything you can think of about that blessed mother of -yours,” he said. “She’s the dearest woman in the world—I hope you know -that?”</p> - -<p>“Indeed I do!” cried Jan fervently, and in a few moments was rattling -off to her uncle, in response to judicious questions, the simple story -of her life.</p> - -<p>The half-hour passed too quickly; in it Jan was completely happy, and -it was long enough to win her heart to her uncle with an affection that -subsequent days could not annul. After he and her aunt, of whom she -had a resplendent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>39</span> glimpse in her dinner gown, had driven away there -was a dull half-hour of waiting, at the end of which Gwen and Gladys -appeared, and they were called to dinner in the big dining-room, which -struck a chill as well as awe to Jan’s soul. Here she saw Sydney for -the first time, but beyond a nod to her when Gwen introduced her he -did not notice Janet throughout the meal, nor speak except once to -contradict Gladys flatly, and once to ridicule Jack for a slip of the -tongue. Janet’s heart sank lower and lower; it seemed to her that she -was stifling, and her loving heart exaggerated the really unfortunate -state of affairs in her new surroundings.</p> - -<p>After dinner Gladys disappeared, as did Sydney, and Gwen, having been -polite to the guest for a while, picked up a book and was soon lost in -it. Viva had gone to bed, and Jack was up-stairs struggling with his -lessons. Wondering if she was doing an unpardonably rude thing, Janet -slipped out of the room and sought the nursery. Here she found Jerry -sleeping in her crib; her flushed, baby face brought comfort and the -sense of home to the lonely “Miss Lochinvar.” Here, too, was Hummie, -darning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>40</span> stockings and humming the Lorelei, a most inappropriate theme -to her bulk. And here was Jack, his hair tousled, his cheeks hot over -refractory examples that would not come right.</p> - -<p>“I won’t wake the baby; may I help him?” whispered Janet, and Hummie -nodded hard.</p> - -<p>“Let me help you; I love arithmetic, and I always help Bob,” Janet -whispered, going over to the afflicted boy. If the sky had fallen, Jack -would not have been more amazed. Not only was it inconceivable that any -one should like arithmetic, but to offer to help him! He yielded at -once, from sheer inability to grasp the situation.</p> - -<p>But here was a girl that was a girl—if she wasn’t a good angel.</p> - -<p>Jack’s admiration grew as his troubles diminished. With a word here -and an illustration there, Jan threw light upon his darkened path, and -she actually whispered funny things as she did so. Jack found himself -positively giggling under his breath as he worked over the hated sums.</p> - -<p>“Gee! You’re a dandy!” he remarked audibly,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>41</span> forgetful of Jerry, -as he saw the task completed. “And you can explain as old Ramrod -can’t—that’s my name for our teacher, he’s so stiff; ain’t it great? -I understand just how you did that, and I don’t believe I ever saw -through the stuff before. Thanks, lots, Jan.”</p> - -<p>“Not a bit; I have had a nice time with you, Jack. I’ll come every -night, if you’ll let me, and I don’t have lessons of my own to do at -night,” said Jan heartily. “Even if I do, we can make time. You know I -like this sort of thing, because at home we children help each other, -and it makes me less lonesome.”</p> - -<p>“Gee!” said Jack again. “What a queer house yours must be! Nice, -though.” And Jan had gained one more devoted admirer among her new -cousins.</p> - -<p>This little adventure sent her to bed in a much happier mood than -she had expected to go in, and Gwen, moved with compunction when she -aroused from her pages to find her cousin gone, came up to make her a -little visit. The trunk had come, and Gwen eyed with pitying glance -its slender and shabby contents, inwardly resolving to set the matter -of dress right before<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>42</span> Jan made her appearance in the Misses Larned’s -formidable halls of learning.</p> - -<p>Jan had intended crying herself to sleep—had laid the plan during -the dreary dinner—but helping Jack and talking to Gwen so cheered -her—besides she was so tired—that she quite forgot it, and fell -asleep almost at once after she had laid herself down for the first -time in her pretty bed, for her first night in vast New York.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>43</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="iv">CHAPTER IV<br /> -<span>“AMONG BRIDESMEN AND KINSMEN AND BROTHERS AND ALL”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">For</span> three days Janet’s life in her new surroundings was neither dull -nor lonely. She saw but little of her aunt, and practically nothing -of Gladys, who showed unmistakably that she did not consider “Miss -Lochinvar” worth bothering about; nor was Sydney’s manner to her -different from his taciturnity toward his own family. But Jack, Viva, -and Jerry lost no time in learning to admire her—they all three -worshiped Jan by the end of her second day among them.</p> - -<p>With Mr. Graham Janet passed two happy evenings talking of her mother, -surprising him with her knowledge of the most minor details of his own -boyhood and early home, and rousing him into telling funny stories of -happenings of which she did not know, to the boundless surprise<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>44</span> of his -own children. At the end of that time her uncle had grown accustomed to -her presence, and, though his affection for his sister was one of the -strongest ties of his life, they had been separated so long that other -interests made more pressing claim upon him. Added to this was the -fact that matters on Exchange were threatening; there was danger of “a -bear market.” Janet heard him say this, and construed it by her Kansas -experience of crop failures to mean “a bare market,” and she pictured -to herself empty stalls and New York threatened with shortage in food. -Mr. Graham was vitally interested in keeping prices up, and became so -preoccupied that Janet received from him only the pleasant word night -and morning accorded his own children. Gwen, heroically, and with more -pleasure to herself than she expected, entertained her cousin for three -days. Then her absorbing interest in her own pursuits asserted itself; -she began her sixth novel—none of them had ever passed the fourth -chapter, and but one reached it—and forgot Jan completely in the -solitude of her own room when she got home from school.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>45</span> -It had been decided that Janet should have at least a week in which to -accustom herself to exile before facing the girl world in the Misses -Larned’s school. Gwen had suggested to her father that Janet be clad -suitably before this ordeal, and he had promptly written a generous -check for that purpose to supplement at shops where the Grahams had no -account any deficiencies in what they wished to purchase where bills -were charged. Nurse Hummel and Gwen had gone down once with Janet -to begin this shopping, but to “Miss Lochinvar’s” bewilderment, she -learned that many trips were required to fit her out as a New York -schoolgirl, and after this first one she and Hummie had to go alone. -Gladys flatly refused to go abroad with her cousin until these changes -in her costume had been made, and was most anxious that she should not -be seen by any of her schoolmates, but Gwen did not conceal the fact -that they had a Western cousin consigned to them for the winter, and -the three girls whom Gwen most disliked, and Gladys stood most in awe -of, set out at once to call upon her, moved by curiosity rather than -friendliness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>46</span> -“Miss Hammond, Miss Gwen, and Miss Ida Hammond and Miss Flossie Gilsey -is down-stairs to see you; they sint their cards. They do be asking for -Miss Janet, though not be name,” said Norah, presenting six bits of -pasteboard through the crack of Gwen’s door.</p> - -<p>“Oh, for mercy’s sake! Has anything come home for that prairie-chicken -to put on?” exclaimed Gladys, flushing with annoyance; she chanced to -be at that moment in her sister’s room.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe so,” said Gwen composedly. “They had to alter the -house dress we got ready-made. Still, it doesn’t matter for those -girls.”</p> - -<p>“Gwendoline Graham, you are enough to provoke a saint! Of all the girls -in school, they are the ones who would notice most, and they have the -most money,” cried Gladys.</p> - -<p>“And are the most vulgar and the stupidest about their lessons,” -finished Gwen. “I don’t see why you mind what such people think. -However, I’ll go up and see what I can do for Jan.” And she arose, -putting aside her lap tablet with the air of a martyr.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>47</span> -“She can’t wear anything of yours; she isn’t tall enough, and they -would know our things, anyway,” said Gladys. “I suppose we’ve just got -to let her come in that shabby best dress of hers. But do tell her not -to say or do anything queer, or tell any of those stories she tells the -children about riding broncos and playing Indian in the fields—no, -prairies! Make her understand she has to be like other people, and -these are swell girls.”</p> - -<p>“If she’s used to wearing feathers and war-paint we can’t make her take -to civilization right off—no Indian does that,” said Gwen wickedly, -for Gladys never could grasp satire. “But, you know, I think she has -nice manners, simple and not as if she thought of herself. And the -Hammonds and Floss Gilsey are more swollen than swell.” And with this -parting witticism, Gwen ran up the hall.</p> - -<p>“Jan, Jan, here are three girls come to call on you,” she said, putting -her lips to her cousin’s door. “Hurry up, and come down to see them.”</p> - -<p>Jan opened her door at once. She was writing a long letter home, and -her cheeks were too red to indicate perfect peace of mind.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>48</span> -“I’ll just pumice-stone this ink stain off my finger,” she said, “and -then I’m ready. If ever I sympathized with any one, it was with Mr. -Boffin when he told John Rokesmith he didn’t see what he did with the -ink to keep so neat when he wrote. I’m ashamed of myself, and mamma -says I ought to be, but I can not keep my fingers—this middle one, -anyway—free from ink when I write. I guess I get so interested I -dive down to the bottom of the ink-well without knowing it. Who are -these girls?” As she had talked, Janet had scrubbed energetically, -and now turned to go down with Gwendoline, without any additional -prinking beyond a hasty smooth of her rebellious hair. Her dress was a -blue-serge skirt and a cotton shirt-waist, although it was October; it -never occurred to her, used as she was to seeing her girl friends in a -girlish manner, that anything more was required of her in the matter of -toilet.</p> - -<p>Gwen eyed her quizzically, thinking with amusement and annoyance -of what these would-be fine ladies down-stairs, who could not have -understood Jan’s reference to Dickens, would say if she let her go -down thus. It was dawning<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>49</span> upon Gwen’s inquiring mind that many things -in the world were not quite as they should be, and that the scales -in which lots of people weighed other people and things were badly -weighted on one side.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid you will have to put on your bestest gown, Jan,” she said. -“They would probably drop dead if they saw you no more fixed up than -that, and it would be a nuisance to have to prove they weren’t murdered -here. Get out your finest things, and I’ll help you.”</p> - -<p>“My finest things aren’t fine enough to make much difference,” said -Jan, who had not had her own eyes shut to facts since she came. -“However, I’ll do my best not to disgrace you, Gwen.”</p> - -<p>Together they fastened Jan into the light-blue cashmere which her -mother had made for her to wear to possible children’s parties with her -cousins. Jan could not help smiling at herself in the glass, while Gwen -was buttoning up the waist in the back, remembering this, and what was -Gladys’s idea of a party, and how little she considered herself a child -at thirteen.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>50</span> -“You really look like peaches and cream with that light blue against -your skin,” said Gwen admiringly when the task was completed. “They -can’t say you’re not awfully pretty.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t flatter, Gwen. And imagine a brown maid peaches and cream! Come -on, then. Have you any instructions to give as to manners?” asked Jan.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Gwen wisely. “Yours are always nice, because you’re so real -and unaffected—not that there’s the least hope of their knowing that -simplicity is nice, though.”</p> - -<p>“My cousin, Miss Howe; Miss Hammond, Miss Ida Hammond, Miss Gilsey,” -said Gladys, doing the honors with unusual dignity because she felt -sure it would be needed to cover Jan’s deficiencies in worldly -knowledge.</p> - -<p>Janet murmured her salutations confusedly, badly handicapped at the -start by the formality of so many “misses” when she expected to be -introduced all round by first names.</p> - -<p>“How do you like New York, Miss Howe?” asked Daisy Hammond, estimating -Jan’s gown rapidly but accurately. “It must be very different from the -West?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>51</span> -“Yes, but I like it,” said Jan warily.</p> - -<p>“New York is so much bigger,” added Ida Hammond, with a trying air of -superiority.</p> - -<p>“Than the West? Oh, no; the West is very large,” said Jan demurely, to -Gwen’s delight.</p> - -<p>“Are you fond of the theater, Miss Howe?” asked Flossie Gilsey, -throwing herself in the breach.</p> - -<p>“I never have been; we are going, Gwen says, sometime this winter. -But I love to act; we do plays in the barn chamber, my brothers and -sisters and I. It’s loads of fun. I’d love to see a real play, but it -costs too much to go to the city, and then buy tickets to the theatre,” -said honest Jan, quite unconscious of disgrace in the fact of poverty. -Gladys turned crimson as her ill-bred guests cleared their throats -emphatically and giggled a little. Gwen flushed wrathfully, but not at -Jan.</p> - -<p>“That is like Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy; do you remember what fun they had -acting in Little Women?” she asked tactfully.</p> - -<p>“It is so long since we read Little Women—not since we were children; -I don’t remember it very well,” said Daisy. “What do you like<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>52</span> best, -Miss Howe? Dancing? Sport? What is your special line?”</p> - -<p>“The clothes-line, I guess,” said Jan, laughing outright, for it struck -her as ridiculous to be asked what was her specialty, “as if it was a -menagerie, and she wanted to know whether I was a long-necked giraffe -or a short-horned gnu,” she said afterward. “I help take in clothes -quite often. But I like all kinds of fun—dancing in the house in -winter; and games, and racing, and riding out of doors. I guess any -sort of fun—just having fun—is my special line.”</p> - -<p>Gladys only barely succeeded in checking the groan this horrible speech -called forth, but Gwen laughed openly. She did not think it quite -wise in Jan to have said that about taking in clothes, but she was so -indignant at the thinly veiled rudeness of the girls to her cousin and -the guest in her house that she did not care, as long as Jan had the -best of it.</p> - -<p>The callers rose to go, not being in the least certain whether they -were being made game of or not, but thoroughly satisfied that they -detested as much as they despised this Western<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>53</span> girl, who looked at -them with smiling candor in her undeniably pretty eyes, and seemed -unconscious of offense.</p> - -<p>“You poor dear thing!” said Daisy Hammond in the hall to Gladys, having -bade Gwen and “Miss Howe” good-by in the parlor. “It is really awful -for you to have to civilize her! She is a perfect savage. Whatever will -you do with her when she comes to school? Do you suppose she has any -education at all? She certainly has no manners.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know. Isn’t it awful?” said Gladys, tears of wrath and -self-pity in her eyes. “She hasn’t had any chance; that’s the only -excuse. For goodness’ sake, don’t tell the other girls!”</p> - -<p>“Tell them! My dear, not for worlds!” said Flossie, as they started -down the steps on their way to find the others of their set and impart -to them how “perfectly awful the Grahams’ cousin was.”</p> - -<p>Jan had wandered into the rear parlor when her first visitors had -left her, and so had not heard the remarks to Gladys, which had been -perfectly audible to Gwen.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>54</span> -When she got her sister up-stairs that young lady freed her mind.</p> - -<p>“Gladys Graham,” she said, “you ought to be ashamed of yourself not to -stand up for your own cousin, and not to have any more self-respect -than to let those geese be impertinent to her and to us in our own -house! Jan didn’t do anything dreadful. She needn’t have said that -about the clothes, I’ll admit, but I suppose she was disgusted, and -well she might be. Besides, she’s the kind of girl that can’t help -seeing the funny side, but she isn’t one bit mean. Those girls acted -as if she were as far below them—as far as the sea-level from Mont -Blanc. And I only wish I could have boxed their ears. If you don’t stop -letting those Hammonds and Floss and that crowd impose on you, you’ll -be a goose all your days. Just you wait and see if you don’t find -out I’m right. I am just ashamed of you—helping them sit on papa’s -sister’s daughter!”</p> - -<p>Gladys flared up. “She’s perfectly disgraceful, that’s what Janet Howe -is! Saying she was too poor to go to the theater, and took in clothes! -I wonder she didn’t say she took in washing!<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>55</span> Maybe they do, and the -ladies give her their old clothes,” she cried.</p> - -<p>“Gladys, stop this instant! I won’t let you talk that way. Jan’s a -trump, and I can see it if I do neglect her. I only wish we were as -nice as they all must be,” cried Gwen.</p> - -<p>“Well, if you like that sort of girl, you may have her. I won’t -take her out, and I won’t go anywhere with her, and I think papa is -downright mean to impair her on us,” Gladys sobbed.</p> - -<p>“If you mean <em>impose</em>, why don’t you say so? I honestly think we -are the ones whom Jan impairs,” said Gwen, restored to good-nature by -the chance to correct one of Gladys’s many slips of tongue. And thus -ended Jan’s introduction to New York society.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>56</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="v">CHAPTER V<br /> -<span>“AND, SAVE HIS GOOD BROADSWORD, HE WEAPONS HAD NONE”</span></h2> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Fine</span> feathers” may not make “fine birds”; it is generally conceded -that true fineness lies somewhat deeper than the plumage, but fine -feathers have a marked effect on the minds of ordinary little birds -regarding the wearer of them; they have to be birds of considerable -experience or native refinement not to judge their fellow bipeds by -their plumage.</p> - -<p>When the results of Nurse Hummel’s many shopping expeditions with Janet -came home, and “Miss Lochinvar” appeared in the tasteful and well-made -apparel they had chosen, Gladys treated her cousin with new, if not -lasting, respect, and even Sydney showed by several surreptitious -glances at her, which keen-eyed Gwen intercepted, that he was realizing -for the first<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>57</span> time that his quiet Western cousin was worth looking at.</p> - -<p>Gwen felt something of the pride of an architect in the building he has -created as she wheeled Jan around to view her from every point, and as -she saw that the others were newly inclined to admire the girl of whom -she was beginning to grow fond, and whom she would have loved dearly if -she had not been too self-centered just then to give any one very much -affection.</p> - -<p>Janet was ashamed to discover that she shrank with no little terror -from the ordeal of her first day at school. She felt quite sure -that the accomplished young ladies, of whom she had seen examples -and who were to be substituted for the girlish girls who had been -her classmates in Crescendo, would know so much more than she that -they would shame her in learning, as they outstripped her in worldly -knowledge. She saw from the first instant that she entered the door -that this school was to differ from her previous experiences in more -than its pupils.</p> - -<p>The Misses Larned, who were its principals—Gwen said that this did -not necessarily make them the girls’ <em>princibles</em>—did not teach; -they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>58</span> were at the head of the school by virtue of proprietorship, -and they were the final, awful tribunal before which transgressors -were haled, though, it must be confessed, without any more awful -consequences, usually, than a severe lecture. But the girls said “they -would rather die” than go up before the dignified sisters, “who were -so solemn they took the starch out of a body before they opened their -lips.” The same irreverent pupils called the school “the Hydra,” -because it had two of that monster’s many heads. No one would ever -know—none but the boldest dared speculate—what was the extent of -the Misses Larned’s own learning. They walked into the class-rooms at -intervals, and inquired of the presiding teachers as to the progress -of the day’s work with such Minerva-like air that one felt convinced -that the wisdom of the ancients and moderns sat enthroned behind their -sapient eyeglasses.</p> - -<p>They were wise in the selection of their teachers. “The Hydra” was -really a very good school in that respect, and the girl who desired -knowledge could obtain it there, and an excellent preparation for -college beyond. But she who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>59</span> had not this desire could slip through -with marvelously little instruction sticking to her brain, for it was -a school frequented chiefly by the children of wealthy and fashionable -people, and vigorous discipline would have been resented by the -majority of the parents.</p> - -<p>The school occupied an entire house on a cross-street, near the Park, -and Janet passed under its portals with trepidation on her first -morning. Gwen sustained her; Gladys had preceded them, and bore herself -with a little air of aloofness, in spite of Jan’s better appearance, -as if to provide herself against deeper disgrace than was absolutely -necessary, in case “Miss Lochinvar” fulfilled her apprehensions.</p> - -<p>It was not an easy matter to grade the new pupil. In arithmetic, -history, geography, spelling, and in general information her teachers -soon discovered that she far surpassed their old pupils, but she -was guiltless of French, though, on the other hand, she could speak -German—a point no girl in school ever aspired to reach. The extent of -the universal ambition in regard to that tongue was to avoid so many -mistakes in the gender and cases of nouns as should lead to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>60</span> a serious -lowering of averages in marking percentage at the end of the year. On -the whole, Janet passed her entrance examination with honor, and was -placed in the class with Gwen for everything but French, which she “had -to begin with the babies,” as Gladys disdainfully remarked. She was -uncertain whether to be relieved or annoyed that “Miss Lochinvar” had -been ranked with the best scholars, though Gladys’s ambition did not -lead studyward.</p> - -<p>A sudden rain prevented the customary brief walk in the Park at recess, -and the girls gathered in the large room on the upper floor, formed -by joining two rooms together, which was their refuge under such -circumstances.</p> - -<p>Gwen honestly meant to do her duty by Jan during this first recess, -when she was to meet her future mates, but she began to talk to Azucena -North, and quite forgot her cousin. Cena North was the daughter of a -lady who had been steeped in admiration for Verdi and Trovatore when -Cena was born; consequently she had named her baby after the gipsy -in that opera, and Cena pathetically said that “if she <em>must</em> -be named out of Trovatore she didn’t see why she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>61</span> couldn’t have been -called Leonora.” Gwen didn’t see either; she privately pitied her -friend deeply for being burdened with such a name as Azucena. But there -were compensations, as there are in most misfortunes. Cena was one of -the best scholars at the Misses Larned’s, and her father was Mr. North, -the head of the great publishing house of North & Co., which Gwen felt -accounted for Cena’s thoroughness, as well as partly made up for her -name. Cena and Gwen were deep in a plan to lay before Mr. North Gwen’s -novel—when it should be finished, of course—without telling him that -it was the work of Cena’s classmate, a girl of fifteen. After he had -accepted it, and he and his house had exhausted themselves in praise of -its many brilliant qualities, Cena was to say demurely that she knew -the author, and would bring her to her father’s office. And Gwen was -to go with her—wearing her most simple and girlish gown, to increase -the dramatic effect—down to the great establishment of North & Co., -and Cena was to say, “Behold the new Charlotte Brontë!” or something -to that effect. It is no wonder with such a project in hand that Jan -slipped from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>62</span> Gwen’s mind when she and Cena collided in the “campus,” -as they classically called the playroom. They straightway became -oblivious to all but the discussion of ways and means for fulfilling -the great plan, which really lacked but the novel to be successful.</p> - -<p>Janet wandered on alone, feeling very shy and strange, among the -chattering crowd eating cake and candy instead of better luncheons, and -all eying her curiously as she passed.</p> - -<p>She was bearing down toward the younger children—her refuge here, as -at her uncle’s—when the Hammonds and Flossie Gilsey stopped her.</p> - -<p>“Have you forgotten us already, Miss Howe?” called Daisy Hammond.</p> - -<p>“No, indeed,” responded Janet, trying to speak easily and cordially. -“But please don’t say Miss Howe. It seems so funny among girls like us; -my name is Janet.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks; it is awfully good of you to let us be intimate right away, -and waive all ceremony. Generally we have to wait to use first names,” -said Daisy, with an inflection that told Jan, unused as she was to -polite disagreeables,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>63</span> that the speech was not meant at its face value. -“I heard that your cousin Syd—isn’t he too handsome?—had given you -such a nice, funny nickname.”</p> - -<p>“Yes; Miss Lochinvar. That’s because I ‘came out of the West,’ you -see,” said Janet, instinctively seizing her foe by the horns, so to -speak. “It was bright of him, but only too flattering. I don’t expect -to make a clean sweep of everything, like Young Lochinvar.” But as she -laughed Jan’s heart sank. She was not used to this sort of bad temper, -and she hated herself for meeting it while she felt forced to do so; -she understood “getting mad,” but not petty spite. And all the while -she was saying to herself, “Gladys told them; Gladys has been making -game of me.”</p> - -<p>But she had crippled her adversary; Daisy did not know how to meet this -view of the case, and she glanced slyly at Gladys, who shrugged her -shoulders.</p> - -<p>“How well you speak German, Miss—Janet!” said Flossie Gilsey. “Isn’t -it queer you know it so well, and don’t know French?”</p> - -<p>“Not at all queer,” said Janet simply. “I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>64</span> hadn’t much chance to learn -French, but there are lots of Germans in Crescendo. Besides, I like it -better than French, I’m certain. But the real reason why I know it is -because I worked hard to learn it. I meant to be able to speak it; I -wanted to be fit to help papa in his office.”</p> - -<p>A short silence fell on the little group at this shocking remark, -during which Gladys turned a succession of alarming colors, and longed -to go into hysterics or choke her cousin—probably both in rapid -sequence. Janet Howe, her father’s sister’s child, staying at her house -that winter, and brought by her and Gwen to this exclusive school, to -announce—shamelessly, brazenly, to announce—that her ambition was to -be a clerk in her father’s office, and that for this purpose she had -learned German!</p> - -<p>Poor Gladys really was to be pitied at that moment, for though she was -a little goose to feel so, she really did feel that a disgrace had -fallen upon her which death could hardly wipe out. And then the silence -was broken by a little titter from the three girls, and Ida Hammond -said sarcastically, “How nice!”</p> - -<p>Janet looked from Gladys’s party-colored<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>65</span> countenance to the amusement -gleaming in the eyes of her friends, and saw that something was wrong, -but what it could be she had not the faintest idea. And before anything -worse could happen a voice behind her said: “Yes, isn’t that nice? -Isn’t it lovely? Please introduce me to your cousin, Gladys.”</p> - -<p>Janet turned and saw a girl who was in the class with her and Gwen. She -was tall, not pretty, but distinguished looking, with that air of good -breeding which is so definite, yet so indefinable—the look of one who -for many generations had inherited good principles and right standards -of living and taste.</p> - -<p>“My cousin, Janet Howe, Miss Dorothy Schuyler,” murmured Gladys.</p> - -<p>Dorothy put out her hand. “I am so glad to have you here, Janet,” she -said. “I was so much interested in what you were saying. There aren’t -many girls with enough affection for their fathers to study that they -may help them, and few clever enough to do it, even if they do want to. -Won’t you tell me about it?”</p> - -<p>There was a determined look in the brown eyes that smiled kindly, in -spite of it, on Jan,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>66</span> and she knew, though she did not know why, that -she was being championed.</p> - -<p>“There isn’t very much to tell,” she said slowly, responding in a -puzzled way to the other’s cordiality. “My father is in the real-estate -business out in the little place I came from—Crescendo. He has to deal -a good deal with Germans, and he hasn’t as big a business as he would -have in such a growing town if he weren’t working on a patent he wants -to bring out. So he needs me—or I liked to think he did—to help him, -and he needs some one to speak German, so I tried to combine the two. -Like the man in Pickwick who wrote about Chinese metaphysics,” added -Jan, with a sudden laugh, and the dimples that made her so irresistibly -pretty coming in her cheeks.</p> - -<p>Dorothy had a sense of humor, too, and she liked Dickens. She laughed, -and put an arm affectionately over the stranger’s shoulder. “I think it -is beautiful to find a girl of our age trying to do something loving -and sensible like that,” she said heartily. “I hope you can teach me -to be brave and unselfish. Wouldn’t you like to come over to that deep -window-seat and see<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>67</span> the view—it is fine from there—and tell me more -about Crescendo? If Gladys can lend you to me a while?” she added -interrogatively.</p> - -<p>Gladys seemed to think that she could, and the two walked away, -followed by glances by no means pleasant from the group they had left. -In that first encounter were sown the seeds of future enmity, for the -Hammonds and Flossie disliked Janet as much as they would naturally -dislike one to whom they had been unkind, and who had thus been the -means of making them appear badly in the eyes of Dorothy Schuyler.</p> - -<p>When Gwen awakened from her day-dream to a consciousness of her neglect -of Janet, she stared in amazement at the sight of her cousin chattering -volubly to Dorothy, whose cheeks were red from laughing. Gwen drew a -sigh of relief; she saw that Jan was happy, and she knew Dorothy was so -innately well-bred that she would never misunderstand any confidences -Jan chose to make, as would the other sort of girls.</p> - -<p>Walking home at two o’clock, Janet told Gwen the story of her -adventures at recess—“recreation hour,” she found that she must learn -to call it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>68</span> -Gwen listened with frowns and smiles. “You will have to learn not to -tell that gang”—it is a melancholy fact that the budding author did -say “gang”—“anything about home, and being poor. They only draw you -out for pure meanness, and they don’t know anything but just money. -But wasn’t it fine of Dorothy Schuyler to squelch them like that? -Dolly Schuyler is the most a real lady of any girl in that school. She -doesn’t put on airs—of course not, if she is a lady—but she makes all -the girls feel that what she says and does is the very last, best thing -to be said or done. And she leads us all; not because she wants to, but -because she is what she is—all the girls look up to her. She wouldn’t -stoop to do an underhanded, sneaky, nor a mean thing—not if she got a -crown by doing it. She never says nasty things, but when she looks at -you—if you’ve been contemptible in any way—you can’t help curling up. -I’ve always been very proud that Dorothy seems to like me; she doesn’t -like every one. The Hammonds, and that crowd, pretend not to care for -what she thinks, because they’re richer than she is, but she is the -very concentrated extract of blue<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>69</span> blood, and they do care a lot. If -there is any aristocracy in America, it’s people like Dorothy’s family.”</p> - -<p>“But there isn’t; papa says it is sheer nonsense to talk about -aristocracy in a republic,” said Jan, her independence touched.</p> - -<p>“All right; I don’t say it isn’t, so don’t wave the Stars and -Stripes at me,” said Gwen. “But if there is aristocracy, it must be -those people descended from the signers of the Declaration, and the -Revolutionary fighters, and the colonists, and all those. Why, you’re -descended from them yourself, so you needn’t fire up, Janet Howe.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care; in the West we don’t fuss about trifles. Tell me about -Dorothy,” said Janet.</p> - -<p>“There isn’t much more to tell, and what there is you’ll find out for -yourself. But it was a big thing for Dorothy to champion you. You’ll -see that it will make a difference. Both ways,” added Gwen honestly, -“for it will make the Hammonds and Floss Gilsey hate you. I wish we -could put our heads together to get Gladys away from those girls. I -should think she’d<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>70</span> know better than to like them, and they’re certain -sure to spoil her, if it keeps up.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid if I put my head into it she would go with them all the -more,” said Jan, with a hurt little laugh. “Gladys can’t bear me, Gwen.”</p> - -<p>“Gladys is a perfect goose; if she likes such girls as the Hammonds she -couldn’t be expected to like you. But just you wait. She’ll come round. -Those girls are sure to do something mean to her some day—they’re -so jealous of everybody, and I’m proud to say they just hate me. And -as to you, nobody could help liking you sooner or later, Jan. You’re -a regular dear!” and Gwen kissed her cousin on the front steps, -moved with compunction for the neglect which had exposed her to her -unpleasant experience at noon, admiration of the generosity which did -not resent it, and pride in the little Lochinvar out of the West whom -Dorothy Schuyler had sealed with her approval.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>71</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="vi">CHAPTER VI<br /> -<span>“HE RODE ALL UNARM’D, AND HE RODE ALL ALONE”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">One</span> day was very like another in the first two weeks of Janet’s new -school life. The teachers soon liked the sunny girl with the ready -dimples and readier wit, joined with honest industry and determination -to learn. The girls—the best girls—liked Jan at once, but the little -knot of companions whom Gwen had disrespectfully called “that gang” -disliked her every day a little more than the previous one, and chiefly -because of the liking of the better faction. Gladys—and this was -what made the attitude of these girls hard to bear—Gladys arrayed -herself with them, and showed positive dislike to “Miss Lochinvar,” who -certainly did not deserve it at her hands.</p> - -<p>At home, after school, during the five hours between its dismissal -and dinner time, life was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>72</span> a trifle dreary, or would have been but -for Jack, Viva, and Jerry. Gwen thoughtlessly, in spite of her liking -for Jan, betook herself to her own pursuits. Sydney did not seem like -part of the family at all, but rather like some one who was fortunate -enough to have secured an unusually well-appointed lodging-house and -restaurant. He came and went unnoted, to Jan’s amazed distress. She had -heard so much said by her father and mother of the necessity of keeping -close to their boys and making home pleasant to them that motherly -little Jan quite yearned over the handsome lad who had no one to see -that he kept straight. She longed to make friends with him; a longing -intensified by her intimacy with her own elder brother, Fred, whom she -missed more than any of the children she had left behind her, unless it -was the baby, Poppet. But though Sydney was perfectly polite to Jan, -he made no recognition of her overtures of friendship, and, it seemed -to his cousin, grew more indifferent to his surroundings, and more -heavy-browed at each succeeding dinner.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Graham soon got over her annoyance at Janet’s coming, and was -always pleasant,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>73</span> pretty, and kindly, but not less busy than at first. -As the autumn advanced into winter she was more deeply engulfed in -engagements than ever, and Jan shared her children’s lack of their -mother’s society. Unfortunately, with her aunt’s displeasure at her -coming had disappeared her uncle’s pleasure in receiving his favorite -sister’s child, and Jan quite longed for another of the evenings with -him, such as she had tasted on her arrival a month ago.</p> - -<p>Every afternoon when she came home from school—except on the -afternoon of the dancing-class—Jan went into the nursery and sat -down with Hummie, Jack, Viva, and the baby—who would have resented -the title. Jack found the steep hill of learning which—to speak -metaphorically—had so winded him turned into “the primrose path of -dalliance” by this pretty cousin, who was so honest that she would not -do his tasks for him, yet so clear-headed that she turned them into -positive joys. Then she told the jolliest stories of the doings of -her brothers and sisters, whom Jack burned to know, considering them -more attractive than any youngsters he had had the luck to meet with,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>74</span> -either in or out of a book, and whose feats filled him with envious -admiration. Peals of laughter floated down the hall frequently during -these hours—laughter which reached Gwen in her shrine of genius, and -sometimes brought her out to share the fun. Gwen was surprised to find -herself half jealous of the children’s love which Jan had won in a -short month, and which she had missed because she had never thought -about them at all. She sometimes felt quite shut out and hurt when she -saw how the faces of the three youngest brightened at the sight of Jan -and heard the whoop of delight with which they welcomed her.</p> - -<p>Quiet little Viva found that Jan knew ways of playing housekeeping -which her own naturally domestic little brain could not have devised, -and that she could dress dolls, and play with them, too, as no one—not -only her own sisters, but her friends—could begin to hope to do. And -she could tell stories, not only the funny stories of life in Crescendo -and the Howes’ frolics, but the fairy-tales which Viva preferred, in a -way that would make the lady who told stories in the Arabian Nights’ -green with envy.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>75</span> Viva loved Jan with a sort of dumb adoration. She -was a sensitive little creature, and Jan had come into her solitude -like sunshine. As to Jerry, she adopted Jan—whom she called “Yan” -with a pure Norwegian pronunciation—as her own property, and loved -her with tumultuous affection. Jerry had grown so well-behaved in the -dining-room—never tipping over her oatmeal spoon, still less kicking -“Tsusan”—that her father and mother wondered at the reform. They did -not know that if “Yan” lifted her eyebrows in shocked surprise at the -dawn of naughtiness in the wilful tot, Miss Geraldine immediately -resumed the behavior which should make “Yan” show her dimples in -smiling at her, for “Yan’s” dimples had become Jerry’s barometer, and -she could not exist if their absence indicated disapproval.</p> - -<p>It was fortunate for Janet that she was so sincerely fond of younger -children and that her little cousins did cling to her with such -devotion, for without their love she would have had many lonely hours -and would have found the atmosphere of the splendid home she had come -to too frigid for happiness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>76</span> -Helen Watterson was to give a party, and the school was stirred by -the announcement. Not only did Helen live in a house so large that -her party was sure to be an event, but she had announced it as a -“fagot party,” and all the girls invited protested that they could -never, never fulfil its requirements. These requirements were for each -guest to bring a fagot of wood—and “fagot” could be interpreted very -liberally to mean anything from a few toothpicks bound together to a -large bundle of real sticks. These fagots were to be laid in turn on -the open fire, and while his fagot was burning each guest must tell a -story.</p> - -<p>The Grahams, Gwen, Gladys, and Janet Howe, were invited, as well as -most of the girls of their age at “the Hydra.” Gwen felt no uneasiness -as to her powers in the story-telling line, nor did Jan, though she -was rather frightened at the thought of lifting up her voice in such -an august assembly, but Gladys was dismayed, and declared, without -meaning it, that she would not go if she had to tell a story, but would -plead some excuse at the last moment. As it happened, it was Gwen, who -longed to go, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>77</span> pleaded the excuse at the last moment, a painfully -real excuse, for she had a bad sore throat, and could not leave her -room. Jan begged to be allowed to stay at home with her, partly through -kindness to the cousin whom she really loved, and partly from a strong -preference for doing so, for the prospect of going to a party without -Gwen and with Gladys was worse than going alone. But Gwen would not -hear of Jan’s staying behind.</p> - -<p>“It will be the nicest party, I’m sure, Jan,” she said, “and I wouldn’t -have you miss it. Besides, it is really the first affair we’ve been -asked to since you came, so it will be your introduction to New York -society. And another ‘besides’ is that I shall want to hear all about -it, every story repeated, and everything, and Gladys never would tell -me one thing.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t feel as though I could go with Gladys, Gwen,” Jan said -involuntarily. “She does dislike me so, and it makes me more awkward -and scared than ever.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t pay the slightest attention to her,” said Gwen, looking -wrathfully at Jan over the red-flannel swathings of her throat—Hummie<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>78</span> -always insisted on the efficacy of that color for such purposes. “After -you leave the dressing-room you keep with Dorothy Schuyler and Cena -North. They’ve got sense enough to appreciate you! And they’re my -friends. You’ll have a good time, because there’ll be plenty of good -times there to have, and when there are, you don’t miss them.”</p> - -<p>Gwen, with mistaken zeal, made a few vigorous remarks to Gladys before -they set forth, telling her what she thought of her slighting Jan, and -bidding her be nice to her at the party, under threat of wrath to come. -The result of this well-meant interference was that Gladys sulked, -settling herself in her corner of the carriage without speaking to Jan -during the drive. After they arrived she compelled Susan to arrange -her hair and dress first, and she then left the dressing-room without -waiting for Jan, who had to find her way, frightened and hurt, to the -parlors alone.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t Gwen coming?” asked Dorothy Schuyler, standing near their -hostess, when Gladys entered.</p> - -<p>“Gwen has a sore throat. She’s dreadfully<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>79</span> disappointed. She cared more -about coming than I did,” said Gladys.</p> - -<p>“And Jan wouldn’t leave her, I suppose?” suggested Dorothy.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Jan is here. She is coming right down,” said Gladys, trying to -speak easily.</p> - -<p>Dorothy gave her one of the glances which Gwen had said “made you -curl up,” and went swiftly into the hall. Here she found Jan coming -hesitatingly down-stairs through the group of boys lounging part way -up, waiting for “the party to begin.” They all stared at Jan, glad -of something prettier to look at than one another, for, though some -of them were already young dandies, most of them despised the stiff -costume to which even the younger lord of creation is condemned at -festivities, and were wondering, each individually, if he “looked as -big a fool in his stiff collar as the other fellows did.”</p> - -<p>Jan gave a sigh of relief as she caught sight of Dorothy. It seemed to -her that she could not enter that crowded room alone. Dorothy noticed -with pleasure that Jan looked very charming in soft, delicate green, -which gave her,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>80</span> with her brown eyes and hair, the effect of some -sylvan creature.</p> - -<p>It was not so very bad after all to get to her hostess and make her -salutations now that kind Dorothy was at her elbow, and when the ordeal -was over Jan turned to enjoying herself with her tendency to make the -best of things.</p> - -<p>There was to be dancing after supper, but first the young guests -grouped themselves around the open fire for the fagot burning and -story-telling. Dorothy began, and told a pretty legend of Brittany, -not long, but much longer than Daisy Hammond’s, who had brought a -tiny bundle of three lightest twigs, and related a tragic tale in two -stanzas of “nonsense rhymes.”</p> - -<p>When it came Jan’s turn she found to her horror that the story which -she had so carefully learned and rehearsed with Gwen had slipped from -her as completely as if she had never heard it. “What shall I do?” she -whispered to Dorothy. “I have forgotten my story!”</p> - -<div class="figcenter width500" id="thestory"> - <img src="images/i096-2.jpg" width="500" height="703" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">The story-telling party.</div> -</div> - -<p>“Make up another. Tell us something you have seen or done in the West,” -said Dorothy.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>81</span> -“It will probably be much more interesting, so don’t worry.”</p> - -<p>“I have forgotten the story I meant to tell,” Jan began in a faint -voice as she laid her fagot on the fire. “I think maybe I could -remember it if only I could get hold of the beginning. But Dorothy -Schuyler says I had better tell you something true that happened at -home, so I am going to tell you about a cyclone we had once, and I’ve -got to hurry, or my wood will be gone. There was a family living -outside of Crescendo, about a couple of miles out, and they had come -there from the frontier, and twenty-five years before the day of the -cyclone they had lost one of their children—the oldest boy—out in -the territory; he was stolen by Indians. They hunted everywhere and as -hard as they could for him, but they never found him, so they thought -he must be dead, and they moved into Kansas, and settled in Crescendo, -and had ever so many other children, and were quite happy, though they -never forgot that lost boy. They didn’t get on so very well—didn’t -make much money, I mean, so mamma and papa tried to help them. They -couldn’t very much, because we have such lots<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>82</span> of children and not much -money. But one day there came up a storm, and papa ran around making -everything tight and getting all our children in, for he said it was -going to be a windstorm, and that scares us out there—we’ve seen them!”</p> - -<p>Jan had forgotten her shyness, and was becoming dramatic as the -recollection of the fatal day came over her. She leaned forward, her -elbows on her knees, her eyes fastened on her burning fagot, with the -light playing over her earnest face.</p> - -<p>“Well, it came. The sky got all over a dreadful yellow, and it was so -dark we lighted up like night. Mamma was baking and I was sweeping and -dusting—I know I thought it was lucky my head was tied up, for it -seemed as though it might blow off. The wind roared and rushed past us, -and branches of fruit-trees and heavy things came banging up against -the house—oh, it was awful! But we didn’t get the worst of it inside -the town. Outside, where this family lived, it was the very middle of -the cloud, and it took the roof off, and it blew down the barn, and -the neighbor’s house blew over and part of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>83</span> it struck theirs—and—oh, -dear, oh, dear! I can’t bear to think of it!” Jan hid her face in her -hands a moment, shuddering, and her audience sat silently waiting for -her to go on.</p> - -<p>“The wall fell in and it buried all that family under it, for they -were all huddled together—they hadn’t any cyclone cellar. It was the -first time a cyclone had ever struck Crescendo. And when the storm -had passed—it was all over in fifteen minutes—they went out to that -house and they found them dead, all dead, except the baby, and he was -crying and pulling at his mother’s dress.” Jan’s voice quivered so that -she had to wait another moment, and no one noticed that her fagot was -burned out.</p> - -<p>“And when they got there,” Jan went on, “there was a young man standing -among the ruins whom the people who came to help had never seen before. -Would you believe it? It was that oldest son whom they had lost! He -had found out who he was and had traced his parents, and had come to -Kansas after them, and had reached Crescendo just in time to find them -dead in the ruins of their home. And there was not one left but the -little crying baby and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>84</span> the oldest son—they were all gone! I took off -my sweeping dress, and mamma left her baking, and we went out there. We -brought the baby home with us—he was just Poppet’s age—until after -the funeral. Then the young man took him, and they went away together, -the oldest and the youngest, and we have never seen either of them in -Crescendo again.”</p> - -<p>After a complete silence of a few minutes, more flattering than -applause, the applause for Jan’s tragic story burst forth from every -pair of hands. It was the success of the evening, but to Gladys it was -a success worse than failure. The confession that Jan and her mother -had been busied with housework at the time of the tragedy added the -story to the long list of disgraceful disclosures Jan was forever -making.</p> - -<p>But the other guests at the party did not seem to consider Jan’s little -tale a blot upon her credit—<em>they</em> could afford to admire it, -Gladys thought bitterly; she was not <em>their</em> cousin! Girls and -boys crowded around Jan to congratulate her, till poor Jan hardly knew -where to look. She was already the heroine of the evening, but one -thing more raised her into a heroine<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>85</span> indeed, though it ended the party -for her and Gladys.</p> - -<p>The last fagot was on the fire, and Helen Watterson leaned forward with -the tongs to adjust it as it burned. She wore floating tarlatan over -her pink-silk skirt, and as she reached for the falling fagot the draft -from the chimney sucked her dress into the fireplace, and instantly the -gauzy stuff blazed up.</p> - -<p>Her guests fell back screaming, but Jan sprang forward, gathered up -the overdress in her hands, crumpling it together, and extinguishing -the flames before there was the slightest danger of injury to Helen. -Probably there had not been very great danger, for the flimsy stuff -would very likely have been consumed before it could ignite the rest of -her garments, but none the less, Jan had done a brave deed, and at the -cost of painful burns on her own hands.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Watterson took her away to be coddled and bandaged, amid a murmur -of admiration from the guests she left behind her. When the poor little -brown hands were thoroughly wrapped in oil and cotton a carriage was -called, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>86</span> Susan put Jan into it, while Gladys followed, angry at -being obliged to miss the dancing, angry with herself for her bad -temper, angriest of all with Jan for proving her so wrong, yet swelling -with pride that her cousin had saved Helen’s life—for Gladys would not -regard the event as less than life-saving. The drive back was as silent -as had been the drive to the party. Jan was in too much pain, Gladys in -too perturbed a state of mind for speech.</p> - -<p>As Susan helped Jan from the carriage, a forlorn, hungry, sick-looking -little tiger cat ran mewing toward her, and then scuttled away, as one -who had no reason to count on the human kindness it implored.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that poor, poor, dear little cat!” cried Jan, who loved dumb -beasts tenderly. “Can’t I take it in, Gladys?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Miss Janet, it’s that forlorn and miserable, you don’t want it!” -protested Susan.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do; that’s why I want it!” cried Jan. “Do you think your mother -would care? I’ve missed my animals so dreadfully, Gladys!” she pleaded.</p> - -<p>“You know mamma never cares what we do<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>87</span> as long as we are satisfied,” -said Gladys ungraciously.</p> - -<p>Jan waited for no further permission. With her bandaged hands, and with -the blandishments of a voice used to conversing with our little kindred -who can not reply—not in the same tongue at least—Jan contrived -to catch the frightened little waif who stood in such sore need of -kindness.</p> - -<p>Clasping him to her breast, in spite of bandages, and disregarding -possible mud on the white paws, Jan returned, damaged, excited, but, on -the whole, happy, from her first party.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>88</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="vii">CHAPTER VII<br /> -<span>“OH, COME YE IN PEACE HERE, OR COME YE IN WAR?”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">After</span> the party and Jan’s accident there were seven days of uneventful, -shut-in life, which were both pleasant and unpleasant. Jan could not go -to school, for her hands were very painful, and holding a book would be -quite out of the question.</p> - -<p>Gwen was well and out again in a day, but she devoted her afternoons to -Jan, going over their lessons with her, that she might keep up with the -class, and entertaining her the rest of the time. The girls in school -showed a tendency to make a heroine of Jan, who refused to be lionized; -Dorothy, Cena, and Helen Watterson came, separately or together, nearly -every afternoon to see her, and the teachers sent messages of sympathy -and pride in her courage to her, whom they called “their brave little -Janet.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>89</span> -Sydney hailed her on the day after her adventure with a cordial smile -and a tone which she had never heard him use to any one. He liked -pluck, and it struck him suddenly that the girl whom he had dubbed -“Miss Lochinvar” had been showing it, in one form or another, ever -since her arrival.</p> - -<p>“I hear you have been making a burnt offering of yourself, Miss Jan,” -he said. “Don’t do too much of that sort of thing, because it would be -a pity to have you burned up altogether.”</p> - -<p>Jan was so pleased at this advance from Sydney that she built upon -it great hopes of real friendship between them, but though Sydney -never relapsed into his perfect indifference of manner toward her, -they did not get beyond this slight break in the ice. Gladys alone -stood completely aloof. She was a very unhappy Gladys in these days, -and heartily wished that she had not taken the attitude toward her -cousin which she now felt called upon to maintain. Pride kept her from -admitting that she was in the wrong, and stubbornness toward Gwen, and -a deep-seated objection to seeming to admit her authority, made her -ten times worse than she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>90</span> might have been without these inducements to -bad behavior. Gwen found out from Jan how Gladys had treated her at -the party. Jan did not mean to tell, but in saying how good Dorothy -Schuyler had been to her, she found that she had blundered into -betrayal of Gladys’s neglect.</p> - -<p>Gwen was very angry. Not only was her sense of justice and liking for -Jan in arms, but had not she, Gwendoline, Gladys’s elder and talented -sister, warned Gladys that night before setting forth that she must not -treat their cousin badly?</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to be a tell-tale, Gladys, and I’m not the sort to run -to papa with things, any more than he is one to bother with them, but -you know what he said about sending you to boarding-school if you -dared be rude to Janet when he had invited her here! Now, you just -keep it up as you’ve been doing, and I’ll have to go to him, and tell -him how perfectly horrid you are to her—and she so sweet and dear, -and everybody that is anybody admiring her like everything!” said Gwen -sternly.</p> - -<p>“You can tell him anything you please,” said<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>91</span> Gladys furiously, “but I -won’t have anything to do with Janet, and nobody can make me! You can’t -say I treat her badly if I let her entirely alone!”</p> - -<p>So Gladys withdrew herself from her sister’s society, since it involved -Jan’s, and was more than ever with her objectionable friends, by way of -defying Gwen and proving her independence; though the only thing she -succeeded in proving thoroughly was proved to herself, and that was -that she was very miserable and ashamed of herself.</p> - -<p>“I am driving Gladys away,” said Jan forlornly to Gwen one day. “You -are never together, and it’s all my fault. I sometimes wish I had never -come to New York.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry, Jan. Gladys and I were never friends,” said Gwen lightly. -Then seeing Jan’s shocked expression, she added: “Not that we were -enemies, you know. What I mean is we never were chums. We always liked -different things and people. It might as well be you we differ about as -anything else. It isn’t you who have done it.”</p> - -<p>“But she is with the Hammonds all the time—more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>92</span> than when I first -came, and you never liked that,” objected Jan.</p> - -<p>“Probably it is all for the best. I should think that would be the best -way to cure her of liking them,” laughed Gwen. “Don’t worry, Jan. You -can’t make everybody alike.”</p> - -<p>With which bit of philosophy Jan had to try to satisfy herself.</p> - -<p>The kitten she had rescued on her return from the party was showing -gratifying results of her care. After he had had the mud sponged from -his fur—a task performed by Gwen, since Jan was unable to do it—he -had displayed a pretty coat of black stripes on a brownish ground, with -snowy breast and paws, and a nice face, which Jan convulsed Gwen and -Jack by pronouncing “grave and sweet in expression,” though there was -no denying that this was true when she had pointed out the fact.</p> - -<p>He had been some one’s pet, for his manners were quite elegant, and he -had been taught to jump through hands, and to eat like a Turveydrop of -deportment. But Jan did not call him Turveydrop, as Gwen wanted her -to. She named him Tommy Traddles, after the cheerful youth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>93</span> of whom -she was very fond, and he became the greatest addition to the little -exile’s comfort. Tommy Traddles required convincing that each other -member of the family individually meant well by him, for he had been so -frightened during his days of wandering and hardship that he distrusted -every one, but Jan he loved from the first. He had a shocking cough and -bad indigestion from exposure and lack of food, but Jan cured the one -with cod-liver oil and the other by careful feeding, and Tommy Traddles -came out as good as new. It seemed to Jan, when he sat purring in her -sunny chamber window, with the broad middle stripe of his back getting -more glossy before her eyes, that she had not had a moment of home -feeling until her dear cat came.</p> - -<p>One day when it had been raining heavily, and a cold had kept Jack -at home from school, Jan sat in Gwen’s room listening to the first -chapters—three were now written—of the novel which she, quite as -implicitly as Gwen, believed that North & Co would jump at the chance -to publish as soon as Cena North laid it before her father.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>94</span> -Jack was restless. His cold was just bad enough not to risk going out -with it, but not bad enough to subdue his spirits. Gwen lost patience -at last with his constant popping in and out of her room and snapped -him up.</p> - -<p>“Ivan Graham,” she cried, “if you don’t keep out of here, I’ll make -you! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, taking advantage of me, like -a sneak, just because my lock is broken! Aren’t boys a nuisance, Jan?”</p> - -<p>“No, but their noise is sometimes,” smiled Jan, with a warning shake of -the head at Jack.</p> - -<p>The warning came too late. Jan had never seen an exhibition of her -little cousin’s temper, though she had been informed more than once -that “Jack was a terror when he broke loose.” He “broke loose” now, -and Jan saw the suitability of the expression, for he was like a young -wildcat.</p> - -<p>“I’m not a sneak! I’ll teach you to call me a sneak!” he shrieked, -throwing himself on Gwen with such violence that she staggered halfway -across the room. “I’ll show you! I’ll show you!” Apparently Jack meant -that he would show his sister how he could use his fists, for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>95</span> he was -pummeling her black and blue, and Jan’s bandaged hands prevented her -going to Gwen’s rescue.</p> - -<p>But Gwen had had sorry experience with ungoverned temper from her -earliest days. She caught Jack deftly at last, pinioned his arms, and -bore him—for she was a tall, strong girl—half dragging him, half -carrying him, to Hummie for punishment, though he kicked and fought all -the way.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t he a cherub?” asked Gwen, returning triumphant, but short of -breath.</p> - -<p>“It’s awful!” cried Jan, who had been quite frightened during the -tussle. “If some one doesn’t teach him to control that temper he may -do something he’ll be sorry for all his life. And he really is a dear -little fellow—so warm-hearted and generous!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, those tornadoes are always warm-hearted and generous, if they -feel pleasant,” said Gwen. “I think I like less generosity and fewer -kicks. I shall be black and blue for a week. Don’t your brothers have -tantrums?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but we always try not to stir up the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>96</span> quick ones, and when they -get into a fit of temper we try to cool them down—we have what we call -the Rescue League, you know—mamma founded it—and we pledge ourselves -to rescue one another from our foes—inside ourselves, of course. It -really is fun, and more like a play than anything goody-goody. Then if -mamma is around when one of us gets mad, she takes that one by the hand -and leads him off—sometimes it’s a her, you know—it has been me—been -I—and soothes him all down and talks quietly, and we come back feeling -as if we had had a bath—a bath for our minds.” Janet’s eyes had grown -dim as she talked. The little plain home looked so lovely and peaceful -as she recalled it!</p> - -<p>Gwen was silent, and at this moment Susan offered Jan a letter.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s from mamma!” she cried. “Please open it for me, Gwen. And lay -it on my lap where I can read it.”</p> - -<p>Gwen obeyed, but the attempt at reading was not successful. The pages -slipped and Jan’s fingers were not free to hold them.</p> - -<p>“You would rather not have me read it to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>97</span> you?” asked Gwen. “Do you -think it’s secrets?”</p> - -<p>“No, but I do love to read mamma’s letters myself,” sighed Jan. “Thank -you, Gwen. Please take it.”</p> - -<p>Gwen did as she was bidden, and read:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">My Dearest Little Janet-Girl</span>: It is really several days -since I wrote you, but papa and Fred have written, and there wasn’t -any news. Only that there are five more citizens of Crescendo -than there were last week—four are kittens—nice little Maltese -and white things, belonging to Madam Puff—and one a calf, the -long-legged daughter of Mrs. Cusha. I am so glad that my little -girl is not getting too fond of luxury to want to see her plain -home again! They are very good to you at Uncle Howard’s, and it was -beautiful in him to fit you out as prettily as his own daughters, -so that you should not be mortified nor mortify them when you -appear together. By and by you will see more of Aunt Tina, I am -sure. She must be fond of all those dear children, of course. [Here -Jan began to blush furiously, but Gwen only<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>98</span> elevated her eyebrows -and went on reading with increasing interest as she caught sight of -her own name farther down the page.] And though it is delightful -for you to see so much of the tiny ones, and have them love you -so dearly, I am especially glad that you like Gwen, and that she -seems to like you, for I feel sure she is a noble girl, as well -as a clever one, and I always wanted Howard’s oldest daughter and -my oldest girl to be friends, as we were, he and I, years ago. -And no, dear, you certainly must not mind Gladys’s dislike too -much, nor even feel sure it is dislike, because one is likely to -get the kind of treatment one expects. I am as sorry as I can be -that she apparently despises poverty. Of course that is nonsense. -Rich people are not better than poor ones, nor are poor people -better than rich ones. It all depends how one meets and uses his -opportunities, and money or its lack is an accident. Rich people -are tempted to be hard and selfish, but, on the other hand, poor -people are tempted to be envious and jealous. ‘The betwixt and -between’ folk have the best of it, for they are not so strongly -tempted either way. Still, they often get dissatisfied<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>99</span> with -enough. Agur was very wise when he prayed to be given ‘neither -poverty nor riches.’ I am sorry as I can be that my poor little -niece is so worldly, but I hope she will learn better when she is a -little older. If she doesn’t she will have some hard lessons, for -worldly people are taught very sharply how vain are the things upon -which they have set their hearts, and no one with false ambitions -is ever happy. But if little Jan doesn’t get worldly, I can not -care as much as I should about any one else. I was so afraid, so -dreadfully afraid, to put my single-hearted girl among things which -could never be hers—afraid I should spoil her content and her -unconsciousness of differences, which really are imaginary and do -not matter at all. Go your ways, my Jan, like an honest, simple -little girl, and do not be other than your true, good little self. -It grieves me to think that any one in my brother’s house—much -more one of his children—should not be quite kind to Jan, but I -feel sure you will win Gladys by and by, if you are patient. The -greatest English writer after Shakespeare—to my thinking, at -least—said that the world was a looking-glass, reflecting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>100</span> our own -expression toward it. And he was perfectly right. So smile away, -Janet, and by and by all your little world will smile at you. All -the children and your father send kisses enough to take your breath -away. And so does she who loves you a little more than any one else -can love you, and who prays ‘that God will keep you so pure, and -true, and fair.’ You remember our favorite song?</p> - -<p>“Your loving and only mother,<br /> -<span class="smcap pl10">“Jennie Graham Howe.”</span></p> -</blockquote> - -<p>To Jan’s surprise and dismay, Gwen sprang up after reading this -letter, which Jan would not have allowed her to see for the world if -she had known that it was going to reflect her own comments on her -surroundings, and threw herself on the bed, sobbing as though her heart -would break. “Why, Gwen, why, dear Gwen, don’t!” cried Jan, clasping -her cousin in her wounded arms. “I didn’t mean anything about Gladys! -I’m so sorry you read it! But it really wasn’t anything bad I said!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s not that. I don’t care what you said—Gladys is a pig!” -sobbed Gwen. “It’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>101</span> because Aunt Jennie is so awfully, beautifully -dear! And because—because—O Janet Howe, you don’t deserve credit. -You ought to be a nice girl!” And puzzled Jan agreed with her, as she -stroked her hair in wondering silence.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>102</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="viii">CHAPTER VIII<br /> -<span>“HE STAYED NOT FOR BRAKE AND HE STOPPED NOT FOR STONE”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">Gwen</span> and Jan, with Gladys accompanying them protestingly, and with an -air suggestive of being about to walk on the other side of the street, -were on their way home from school. Except for a slight tenderness -lingering about her reddened palms, Jan’s hands were healed, and she -had resumed her former life, very glad to get back to the world of -fresh air and sunshine. It was late November, and the air around the -park was full of suggestions of country odors—the sunshine soft and -warm through the haze overlapping from Indian summer.</p> - -<p>There were rumors afloat of great events to come, events of absorbing -interest to all the young people. First of all, Sydney’s school was to -have a tournament at Thanksgiving, in which not only were there to be -races—foot and bicycle<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>103</span> races—and wrestling matches, and jumping, as -in most schoolboy tournaments, but there were to be tennis-matches, -singles and doubles, and in the latter girls were to compete, the lads -being allowed to ask sisters or friends to play with them. Sydney had -very little to do with the girls of his household, but when the hour -came that he was to strive with his mates for honor and prizes family -pride stirred, and Gwen and Gladys were profoundly interested. They -were to go to see the games, and Gwen, at least, who was fonder of -sports than Gladys, wished with all her heart that Sydney would ask her -to play the tennis-match with him. She felt quite certain that with a -little practise she could hold her own against her adversaries. Jan -kept discreetly the secret that she had been champion of the girls’ -singles at home, but though it never occurred to her to wish for the -impossible—that Sydney might ask her to play with him—she was very -much excited at the prospect of the games, and nervously reiterated -that “she was sure Sydney would win.” And more thrilling, though less -definite, was the rumor, gaining force every day, that something<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>104</span> -splendid and unusual was to take place at “the Hydra” in celebration -of the Christmas holidays, and though there was no possibility of an -answer, each girl asked every other girl daily what she <em>did</em> -suppose it would be, and if they thought everybody would take part.</p> - -<p>It was this indefinitely glorious prospect which Gwen and Jan were -discussing volubly as they walked home in the soft November sunshine, -Gladys occasionally adding a word from inability to maintain perfect -silence.</p> - -<p>There was a knot of men and boys gathered ahead of them, and Jan -quickened her pace. She was so constituted that she could not see such -a gathering without her first thought being that perhaps some one was -maltreating a helpless animal, and her quick impulse was to fly to the -rescue. As the three girls came nearer they saw that this time what -Jan feared was really happening. A poor little dog, hair matted and -body thin, was in a convulsion on the sidewalk, and the crowd, with the -usual stupid terror in such a gathering of an animal showing symptoms -of sickness, was kicking the poor little creature from side to side, as -he staggered about<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>105</span> blindly, instinctively trying to get somewhere, but -with no power in his tortured brain to select that somewhere.</p> - -<p>“Put him in the gutter!” cried a voice, its owner evidently having a -vague recollection that water was the proper treatment for spasms. A -rough hand caught the dog by the tail and threw him into the gutter, -still wet from flushing the street from the hydrant. The bewildered -creature staggered to his feet and essayed to escape from the puddle -into which he had fallen, but the heavy boot of a laborer kicked him -back.</p> - -<p>Jan saw no more—indeed she had not stood seeing all this, but had -witnessed the torture in agony as she and Gwen approached.</p> - -<p>Dropping her books without looking to see where they fell, she started -on a dead run for the group ahead of her. Her hat flew off, her hair -began to break its bounds, but Jan did not think of appearances just -then. Like a young Valkyrie she swept down on the amazed men and boys, -who fell back before the vigor and suddenness of her onslaught, as -human beings generally give away to some one wholly in earnest.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>106</span> -“You brutes! You cruel, cruel, stupid men!” cried the clear young -voice, shaking with rage and tears. “To treat a little, tiny dog like -that! Don’t you see he’s sick? I only hope giants will come and torture -you the next time you’re sick! Give me that dog.”</p> - -<p>“He’s mad, miss,” said the big workman who had given the last blow.</p> - -<p>“He’s nothing of the sort. He’s in a fit, and he ought to be perfectly -quiet! I tell you, let me get him!” cried Jan.</p> - -<p>The unfortunate little victim of this stupidity and brutality had -lain motionless for the last moment, and Jan bent over him tenderly. -“Dear little dog,” she said, “let me take you.” The brown eyes, full -of misery and pain—for he had recovered consciousness and was coming -out of the spasm—were raised to the pitiful face above him, and, -recognizing that at last here was one human being who had mercy, the -poor dry little tongue came out in an effort to lap the quivering chin, -just out of reach.</p> - -<p>Taking care to keep her hands away from the dog’s teeth, which might -close on them in pain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>107</span> and with no intent to bite, Jan raised the -helpless creature in her arms. One leg hung limp, and the dog moaned.</p> - -<p>“You have broken his leg!” cried Jan, turning indignantly on the crowd. -“Oh, how can you call yourselves human beings and treat a little, dumb, -helpless thing like that? They haven’t any one but us to help them! The -next time you see a dog sick that way lay him where he’s quiet and wet -his head, and don’t, don’t ever hurt him! He’s just had a spasm, and -now you’ve broken his leg!”</p> - -<div class="figcenter width500" id="youbrutes"> - <img src="images/i123-2.jpg" width="500" height="707" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">“You brutes! To treat a little dog like that!”</div> -</div> - -<p>The men began to mutter, but several looked heartily ashamed of -themselves. Some boys jeered at Jan, but she paid no attention. Turning -to Gwen, who had come up, she looked at her and down at the dog in her -arms, totally unable to speak.</p> - -<p>Gwen was not less distressed than Jan. She did not even see that the -little yellow body was dripping mud on the front of Jan’s dress. “We -must take him to a doctor, Jan,” she said. “You are an old trump to -drive down on the crowd like that! I always want to do something, but I -don’t quite dare.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>108</span> -“It isn’t daring. I don’t stop to dare—I rush,” said Jan. “Where is a -dog-doctor, and how shall we go?”</p> - -<p>Gladys stood afar, witnessing this incident with unspeakable horror. -A girl to rush madly down on a crowd like that, harangue them, and -take up a muddy, mongrel cur in broad daylight, and on Fifth Avenue! -And Gwen, not much better, to follow her! She picked up Jan’s books as -if they had been dynamite, and walked away with her head in the air, -too disgusted for adequate expression. Jan was a gipsy. She certainly -looked like one, with her hat off and her hair frowzy—reddish hair, -too! Gladys had not noticed before how red the brown was in the -sunshine.</p> - -<p>But if Gladys was repelled and offended anew by Jan’s quixotic -behavior, there was another member of the house of Graham who, unseen, -viewed the incident with different eyes and feelings. Sydney, also just -returning from school, had seen Jan sweep down on the men and boys, -scattering them before her, and rescue the dog by sheer force of will -and justice, and, seeing, he had been warmed into generous<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>109</span> enthusiasm -and admiration, for Sydney was a manly boy, and he loved animals.</p> - -<p>Now he hastened to his cousin’s and his sister’s support. “Good for -you, Jan!” he cried. “You’re a regular knight without fear and without -reproach.”</p> - -<p>Gwen and Jan looked up in amazement. Could this be Sydney? The color -had mounted high in his cheeks, his eyes were flashing, his lips -smiling. There was not a trace of the sullenness and reserve Jan had -thought the only manner she should ever see in her oldest cousin, as he -took off his cap in exaggerated, yet sincere deference, and held out a -congratulatory hand.</p> - -<p>“How is the poor little beggar? What an outrage! They’ve broken his -leg! Bad enough to have a fit without being kicked and punched! A crowd -makes me so mad I could knock all the heads together! It always thinks -every half-starved beast has hydrophobia, and then to make sure there -is something wrong, proceeds to stick and stone it. I’m proud of you, -Jan! It’s great to see a girl who doesn’t stop to curl her hair when -there’s something to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>110</span> done! Gracious! You came down like a wolf on -the fold—the Assyrian isn’t in it with you! What are we going to do -with your find? I hate to chloroform him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, can’t we cure him?” asked Jan pathetically.</p> - -<p>“I can’t set legs, but I shouldn’t wonder if we could pull him through. -What about lunch?” asked Sydney.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t care about any lunch!” cried Jan eagerly. “It would be -cruel to make him wait with his leg broken. Tell me how to get to the -doctor, and I’ll take him there.”</p> - -<p>“Have you the price of a hansom, Gwen? I’m broke—as usual,” said -Sydney, his face clouding. “If you’ve any change I’ll go with Jan and -the dog down to the doctor.”</p> - -<p>“Here’s my purse,” said Gwen. “There are two dollars in it and some -small change. I’d just as lief go, if you’re hungry, Syd.”</p> - -<p>“Hungry! Of course, but it’s my business to protect Janet. Hi, there, -cabby!” And Sydney hailed a cab a little farther up the avenue, which -rattled down on them at once.</p> - -<p>“Pile in, Lochinvar. You deserve your<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>111</span> name,” cried Sydney. And Jan -obeyed, wondering if she were dreaming, and if this offhand, genial boy -could be morose Sydney.</p> - -<p>“Poor little doglums!” Sydney went on. “You hold him well, Jan. Say, -why aren’t more girls like you? You’re straight girl, ready to cry -over that dog this minute—I’m no end sorry for him, but I don’t feel -teary. And you hold him as if he were your youngest child, and you had -taken care of six of his brothers before him. Now that’s girl for you! -Yet you don’t care a bent copper for what any one thinks, and you make -yourself look like a tramp—hair flying, hat off, books any old place, -and you get mud on your dress from the poor beggar, and you drive -down Fifth Avenue, and it never crosses your mind to consider whether -you look respectable or not. You burst through a tough crowd without -fear of it, or of comment. And all that’s not only straight boy, but -it’s a mighty decent sort of fellow at that. I never saw a girl like -you—you’re the right stuff, Miss Lochinvar, and I didn’t know how -appropriate the name was when I christened you.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve been brought up with boys—Fred’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>112</span> your age, and we’re chums—and -then there are all the others,” stammered Jan, hardly knowing how to -receive this outburst of most acceptable compliments. “I guess there -are lots of girls like me, if you know them. Gwen’s the right sort, -too, and Dorothy Schuyler, and I know ever so many at home.”</p> - -<p>“Gwen’s well enough,” said Sydney, with brotherly indifference. “I -don’t know Dorothy Schuyler. Gladys makes me very weary. I wonder if -she’s going to come this airy-fairy business all her days? Here’s the -doctor’s. Give me the patient while you get out.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid to move him for fear it will hurt him. I’ll get out without -taking hold—I don’t need my hands,” said Jan. But Sydney steadied her -elbow, and she thanked him with a bright smile.</p> - -<p>The doctor was at home, fortunately. He was one who loved his -profession and loved his patients. He handled the little waif the -children had brought to him as tenderly as he would have touched -the best-blooded dog, strapping him down carefully, and setting the -broken leg expeditiously and successfully. As he worked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>113</span> he heard the -story of the dog’s rescue through Jan’s wild onslaught, and he smiled -approvingly at the girl who loved those whom the gentle saint of Assisi -called “our little brothers,” and who dared for their sake. When the -work was done he refused his fee, saying that he was glad to contribute -his skill to the little dog who had fared ill at the hands of men.</p> - -<p>“Are you going to keep him?” asked the doctor.</p> - -<p>Jan referred the question to Sydney with a glance that betrayed her -longing to do so.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes. We’re going to keep him, and put flesh on these poor ribs of -his. And we ought to call him Andromeda, because Janet here rescued him -from the dragon,” said Sydney.</p> - -<p>“But Andromeda was a beautiful girl,” objected Jan.</p> - -<p>“Well, Andromedus, then—Drom for short. I’m sure his state was rocky -enough to make it appropriate on that count,” laughed Sydney. “Good-by, -doctor. We’re no end obliged. You think the poor fellow will pull -through?”</p> - -<p>“I’m sure of it, with your care,” said the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>114</span> doctor, holding the door -for his visitors to depart, and watching them down the stairs. He liked -the frank, warm-hearted pair immensely.</p> - -<p>“Goodness, Sydney, it’s three—ten minutes past!” exclaimed Jan, -glancing at the clock on the Grand Central Station.</p> - -<p>“I don’t mind. Gwen will have luncheon saved for us—she’s a good -fellow when there’s question of helping beasties,” said Sydney. “And -I’m rather pleased to have made your acquaintance, Miss Lochinvar—the -real Miss Lochinvar.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve been just dying to know you, Syd. I miss Fred so dreadfully,” -said Jan, smiling with irrepressible joy. “I think we might have real -good times—” She stopped abruptly.</p> - -<p>“Say, Jan,” said Sydney, not noticing her embarrassment. “You can run -like a spider and you have courage and quick wit. Can you play tennis?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I was girl champion at home!” cried Jan, blushing.</p> - -<p>And Sydney slapped his leg, whistling with surprised pleasure. “The -very thing!” he cried.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>115</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="ix">CHAPTER IX<br /> -<span>“‘THEY’LL HAVE FLEET STEEDS THAT FOLLOW,’ QUOTH YOUNG LOCHINVAR”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> third floor suddenly became to Jan quite as familiar as the second, -which Gwen had informed her on her arrival was disrespectfully dubbed -by Sydney “the hennery.” Her first visit daily on her return from -school and numerous ones from that time until she went to bed were -made to poor little yellow Drom, her and Sydney’s interesting patient. -“Patient” the little dog certainly was in both senses. It is doubtful -if either of the other denizens of that floor of the house would have -borne affliction so sweetly, and as a reward for the meekness which -submitted to bandages and splints with only grateful kisses for the -hands which reluctantly hurt, and for lying motionless through the long -hours, the broken leg set fast and the obtruding ribs disappeared under -flesh.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>116</span> -More than Drom’s broken bones were knitted during those days. Sydney -never fell back into his disregard of “Miss Lochinvar,” and, united in -their nursing and pride in their patient’s progress, the cousins became -real friends.</p> - -<p>At times there were glimpses of something in Sydney which Jan did not -understand, but which vaguely troubled her, but it was never coolness -toward her. On the contrary, she could not help fancying that the -taciturn boy was glad of the affection she gave him, and found girlish -sympathy very acceptable. In her loyal little heart Jan resolved never -to rest until she had brought Gwen into this pleasant comradeship, -feeling quite sure that Sydney would enjoy his clever, big-hearted -sister as much as she would enjoy him, if only they might make each -other’s acquaintance.</p> - -<p>In the meantime a wonderful thing happened. Sydney asked Jan to play -with him in the tennis tournament, and “Miss Lochinvar” was not less -frightened than elated over the honor.</p> - -<p>Syd had taken her out to the courts to practise, and was delighted with -her swift underhand<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>117</span> serve as much as with her sure returns and expert -volleying, in which she seemed to be all over the court at the same -time. It proved to be a “court” in another sense to the pretty girl, -for she instantly became a prime favorite with the players, not only -with the boys, who pronounced her “great,” but with the girls. These -were not pupils of “the Hydra,” but another set and kind. Jan found -them pleasanter, as a whole. They were frank, jolly, natural young -creatures, such as the boys would be likely to choose to play with them -when the choice was left them. They all declared that they had not a -ghost of a chance playing against Jan, and the boys announced that -“Graham had a cinch, with that cousin of his to back him.” But though -the boyish slang made her feel more at home than she had since leaving -her brothers, it could not set Jan’s mind at rest. She found herself -starting up out of her sleep at imaginary calls of “Play!” and once -served a dream ball with such a thump of her hand against the nursery -wall that Jerry awoke screaming, and Hummie hastened in, feeling sure -nothing less than fire was the matter.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>118</span> -There was not much time for practise. Sydney laughed at Jan for wishing -they had longer to get used to each other’s methods, but could not help -realizing that victory would have been more assured if they had played -together more. It would never do, however, to let Jan lose confidence. -At the best, Sydney had little faith in “girls’ nerve.”</p> - -<p>On the day before the games, which were to be held on the first Tuesday -after Thanksgiving, Jan played so badly that Sydney was seriously -alarmed. She seemed nothing but a bundle of nervousness, serving weakly -or else beyond the bounds, receiving uncertainly, and acquitting -herself generally as badly as possible. Jan came home profoundly cast -down.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be discouraged, Syd,” she said, though she needed cheering more -than her partner. “You know I can play a decent game, and I often go to -pieces beforehand, but pull together again when the time comes. Maybe -I’ll be all right to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Of course. I know how that is,” said Sydney lightly. “You’re all -right, and I wish I was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>119</span> as sure of everything I wanted as I am of -winning to-morrow. You had your funk out to-day. To-morrow you’ll be -right on deck when the umpire calls time.”</p> - -<p>Jan went slowly up-stairs, hoping this was to prove true. Her spirits -rose considerably at the sight that met her eyes when she opened her -chamber door. There on the bed lay a tennis dress of which any one -might be proud. It was beautiful broadcloth, rich, warm red in color, -with tiny bands of black fur around the short skirt and perfectly -defining the fine lines of the short jacket which surmounted the -delicate tucked white-silk shirt-waist. But most bewitching of all was -the cap of the crimson cloth, with its outlining of black fur and its -single black quill bidding defiance to the world in its saucy setting -on the left side. Jan promptly donned the cap, admiring the effect in -her glass, which told her that she had never worn anything so becoming, -and resolving to do or die, to live up to her costume. She would not -be one of those girls whom the Crescendo boys despised, whose skill in -tennis consisted solely in selecting a gorgeous sash and knotting it -gracefully.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>120</span> They had had an axiom at home that the better the sash the -worse the playing.</p> - -<p>Jan, concluding that Gwen had been at the bottom of her welcome gift, -went to find and thank her. She learned to her surprise that her aunt -had designed and ordered the costume, wishing that her boy should have -not only the most skilful partner, but the prettiest one, and with -this discovery Jan made another, which was that her busy aunt had -unsuspected pride and affection for her eldest born.</p> - -<p>The entire family, with the exception of Mr. Graham and Jerry, went out -to the games on the following day. The sun was warm, but the air cool; -there was not much wind. Altogether it was a day which justified the -wisdom of holding games so late in the season.</p> - -<p>Most of the big girls from the Misses Larned’s were in the grand stand, -interested from more or less personal connection with the contestants, -and filling the place with gay colors, lively chatter, and candy odors.</p> - -<p>The races preceded the tennis, as did the wrestling. Sydney was not -among the wrestlers, but he ran and jumped, and the Graham<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>121</span> party -nearly fell over the rail in its enthusiasm as he came in first in the -foot-races and when he marched up to the judges’ stand later to have -the first medal for the race and the second medal for the standing jump -fastened on the breast of his white sweater.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t he gloriously handsome?” whispered Mrs. Graham in Jan’s ready -ear. “There isn’t a boy here to compare with him! I am proud of my -beautiful boy and my clever Gwen, Janet, and I sometimes think I love -them more than all the others put together.”</p> - -<p>Jan felt the injustice of these words, although she realized that the -pride of the hour might have made her aunt exaggerate her partiality. -But as she looked at Sydney she felt that they were almost to be -excused. With his face flushed, his head thrown back, his lips proudly -smiling, and his straight young form drawn up to its fullest height, -showing his fine muscles at their best, Sydney Graham was a son to -glory in, and Jan clapped her loudest, feeling that her big cousin was -very dear to her, too, and that she was grateful to Drom for being the -link that had drawn them together.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>122</span> -The time for the tennis had come, and Jan rose in her seat to make -her way through the crowd down to the courts. She heard but faintly -the clapping of hands with which her school friends sped her, but she -heard as distinctly as if a megaphone had shouted the hateful words, -Daisy Hammond’s whisper to Flossie Gilsey: “Look at the Wild West -Show! I suppose she thinks she’ll paint this town red to match her own -war-paint.”</p> - -<p>A little righteous indignation often does wonders. Jan had risen with -her heart in her rubber-soled shoes. As she heard Daisy’s ugly, vulgar -speech her nerves suddenly steadied, and with a profound contempt -for the speaker came a resolution to show these girls that she could -excel them in sport as easily as she could not help knowing that she -surpassed them in class.</p> - -<p>Sydney met her at the foot of the stairs, and he read the steady light -in her eyes and the firm curl of her lips aright, and with unspeakable -relief saw that Janet could be relied on.</p> - -<p>“O Sydney, we are all so proud of you!” cried Jan, saluting her cousin -with a wave of her racket in her left hand and a tight clasp of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>123</span> his -hand with the right one. “No, you mustn’t take my racket. It is part -of my costume! Don’t you see that Aunt Tina had a cover for it made to -match my dress?”</p> - -<p>“You certainly are a picture,” said Sydney, “and I’m proud of you! -Shall we let them score a few points?”</p> - -<p>“Just a few, to add to the interest,” laughed Jan. “But ‘“they’ll have -fleet steeds that follow,” quoth young Lochinvar.’”</p> - -<p>Sydney echoed her laugh with a mind at rest, and the cousins stepped -out on the hard clay court.</p> - -<p>They found that their opponents were in fine form. Jan and Sydney -fought hard, but do what they would they could not keep them from -getting the winning ten after they had held them tied at “forty all” -some exciting minutes.</p> - -<p>But the second game Sydney and Janet won, and took their places ready -to make the third theirs by any heroic effort. Unfortunately the -boy and girl opposing them were of the stuff that soldiers are made -from—or rather fortunately, for Syd and Jan wanted to win gloriously. -But they had hard work to win at all. Once<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>124</span> more the game halted at -“forty all,” and the ball was volleyed back and forth without pausing, -each side and both partners of each side playing nobly. Once Sydney -played a back stroke that nearly settled it, but the girl across the -net saved the day, and immediately on the ball’s return her partner -gave a swift cut that made it skim the net and fly out to the right -corner of the service-line. With a bound Jan pursued it. It had been -a clever stroke, for neither she nor Syd was near that spot at the -moment. How she got there Jan did not know, but get there she did, and, -swinging her racket without more than time for instinctive planning, -she smashed the ball, and it crossed the net, barely clearing it, sped -close to the ground out to the outer court of their opponents, and -stopped before either raised racket could get down to its level or -either player on the opposite side could pursue the ball. A ringing -cheer announced the game won and Jan the victor. Sydney shook her -violently by both hands, while cries of: “Well played!” “Splendid!” -“What a stroke!” fell on the ears of happy “Miss Lochinvar.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter width500" id="aringing"> - <img src="images/i142.jpg" width="500" height="714" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">A ringing cheer announced Jan the victor.</div> -</div> - -<p>“It was the prettiest sight I ever saw,” said<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>125</span> Mrs. Graham, kissing -Jan on her return, and more inclined to regard the affair as a -spectacle than a sport. “You are sweet in that crimson, Janet, and -Sydney is delicious! I am so proud of you both!”</p> - -<p>Gwen hugged her cousin breathless, Jack and Viva trying vainly to -get at her the while. Even Gladys was swept away by the glory to her -family, to which for the first time Jan had contributed, into something -like cordiality toward “Miss Lochinvar.” All the girls Jan liked at the -Misses Larned’s congratulated her jubilantly, and the other faction was -forced into silence. Altogether Jan enjoyed a little triumph, and came -home blissful, to dream of the theater-party to which Mrs. Graham was -to take her, Gwen, Gladys, Sydney, his most intimate chum, and Dorothy -Schuyler, in celebration of the victory, on the following day.</p> - -<p>It was the more shocking that she ran up the stairs later to visit -Drom, full of these anticipations for Jan to find Sydney with his head -bowed on his arms across his table and to meet the tragic face which he -raised as he tried to smile at her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>126</span> -“Why, Sydney, what has happened?” she cried, standing still on the -threshold and paying no attention to Drom’s cordial greeting.</p> - -<p>“Nothing,” said Sydney. “I—perhaps I ran too hard. I don’t feel quite -well. How are you after our victory?” He tried to speak easily, but Jan -was too well versed in boys’ ways to be deceived.</p> - -<p>“You’re in a scrape, Syd,” she said decidedly, entering and shutting -the door behind her with a discretion Sydney admired even then. “Won’t -you tell me what it is? Or have you told your mother?”</p> - -<p>“My mother! No, I guess not,” said Sydney. “I’d be sorry to tell -her—if I were in a scrape,” he added, realizing his indirect admission.</p> - -<p>“Then tell me,” said Jan, sitting down at the other side of the table -with an air that suggested not rising again until she had been told. -“Two heads are better than one, and you can trust me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m in debt,” said Sydney, yielding at once, glad, perhaps, to -share a burden that had been oppressive for some time. “And the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>127</span> fellow -writes to say he won’t wait any longer. If I don’t pay up he’ll go to -my father. I can’t pay up, so I suppose there’s no help for it, and -he’ll have to go.”</p> - -<p>“In debt!” Jan exclaimed, her voice low and horror-stricken. “O Syd, -that’s awful! What will uncle do if that man goes to him? Who is the -man, anyway? Tell me more.”</p> - -<p>“He’ll raise the roof, as to father’s part of it, and very likely send -me off to boarding-school,” said Sydney, flushing. “The man, as you -call him, is a shopkeeper who likes to get the fellows at our school -to buy things on tick from him, if he knows there is some one at home -who will pay in case they don’t. He even offers to lend us money and -put it on the books and not charge any interest. He’s a scamp to do it, -and I know it, but I’ve been fool enough—and scamp enough, too—to get -things charged and to borrow a little now and then, thinking I could -pay up myself. Well, I can’t, and now I’ve got to face the music. It -serves me right, but that doesn’t make me enjoy myself any better.”</p> - -<p>“O Syd, how could you?” said Jan, who had been brought up to regard -debt with horror,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>128</span> and whose father might have to deny his children -luxury, but by practise and precept he taught them to live within their -means.</p> - -<p>“Now, you needn’t lecture,” said Sydney, who found the pained and -disappointed look in the brown eyes opposite to him hard to meet. “I -know all you can say about its being wrong, but I did it, and there you -are! Five dollars a month isn’t much allowance, and that’s all I get.”</p> - -<p>“Five dollars! Every month, and to spend on yourself?” cried Jan, to -whom this seemed a fortune.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you little goose!” said Sydney, almost ready to laugh at her -simplicity. “What do you suppose that is among the boys I go with? But -don’t you worry. I’m sorry I told.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think it would be right to pay this man and not let Uncle -Howard know?” said conscientious Jan. “You see, Sydney, I think fathers -and mothers ought to be told things.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think it makes a difference whether it would do harm -or good?” asked Sydney. “Father would be angry and send me off, -and I can’t see what good that would do. He is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>129</span> too busy to try to -understand. And I’ve had enough of it. If I could pay up now I would -keep clear of this sort of thing forever. It has worried me ever since -September.”</p> - -<p>Jan was thinking rapidly as Sydney spoke, and it seemed to her loving -heart like sealing the boy’s fate to send him away from home, where it -was her favorite dream to root him more closely. So she said: “I will -lend you money, Syd. I have some that papa gave me to buy Christmas -gifts for the children, but you can pay it back, perhaps, before then. -It’s five dollars. Do you need so much?”</p> - -<p>Sydney laughed outright, though it was a melancholy and kindly laugh. -“Five dollars, you blessed innocent!” he said. “It is about a tenth of -what I owe.”</p> - -<p>Jan gasped. “Gwen has money saved,” she said with a sudden inspiration. -“Tell her. She’ll be glad to help you out. And it will make you better -friends,” she added in her thoughts.</p> - -<p>“Indeed I won’t tell Gwen,” cried Sydney. “I’ll tell you what I will -do. I’ll borrow your five and try to get him to take it on account, and -wait before he tells father.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>130</span> -“And then, if I were you, I’d try to earn the money to pay up,” cried -Jan, with another inspiration.</p> - -<p>“How could I?” asked Sydney.</p> - -<p>“Errands after school, work in some store—lots of ways, if you mean -it,” said Jan, springing to her feet in her earnestness.</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen don’t do those things, Jan,” said Sydney. “Would you like to -see me an errand-boy?”</p> - -<p>“I’d rather see you anything than dishonorable,” said Jan hotly. -“<em>Gentlemen</em> don’t borrow and spend money they can’t pay back.”</p> - -<p>“That’s it! Go ahead! Hit a man when he’s down!” said Sydney bitterly. -“That’s the girl of it! I thought you were a square fellow, Janet.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, please forgive me, Syd,” cried Jan, repentant. “I didn’t mean to -say anything like that! I know you are honorable and are sorry for -doing wrong, and I’ll do anything in the world to help you. But I hate -to hear you talking like a fop and not seeing where the real disgrace -would be. I’d be prouder of you if you joined the street-cleaning -department than I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>131</span> would to see you getting mixed up in your ideas of -honesty.”</p> - -<p>Sydney laughed again. “All right, Miss Lochinvar,” he said -good-naturedly. “You are somewhat mixed up in your speech, it strikes -me. I accept your apology, and I’ll admit you are right in your ideas, -if you want me to. And I’ll accept your five dollars, too, if you’ll -lend it to me. And I won’t forget that you stood by me as well as you -could. Perhaps I’ll pull through with this help.”</p> - -<p>Janet could not help seeing that Sydney was too ready to throw off his -burden in the relief of temporary relaxing of the pressure. She wished -with all her heart that she was old enough and wise enough to help her -cousin in the ways in which he needed help most. But it was something -that he trusted her with his secret and accepted aid from her.</p> - -<p>“I’ll run and get the money now, Syd,” she said. “I wish I wasn’t poor, -for your sake. But think it over and see if you can’t earn some money. -It would be so much more manly and fine than getting it from Uncle -Howard or counting on presents. And fair, too, because<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>132</span> you would be -setting your own wrong-doing right.”</p> - -<p>“All right, Miss Lochinvar, I’ll think,” said Sydney. “You’re a pretty -good sort of fellow not to scold me harder and to be ready to hold out -your hand to a sinner. I won’t forget it of you, Jan.”</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>133</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="x">CHAPTER X<br /> -<span>“FOR A LAGGARD IN LOVE AND A DASTARD IN WAR”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> seemed to Jan that each day was full of happenings of late. She was -so much interested and had become so much a part of the life around her -that she had not time to be homesick any more. First of all, there was -Sydney and his affairs, which troubled her, though he had told her that -her five dollars had purchased him temporary relief, and that he was -considering ways of taking her advice and of earning money after school -hours with which to pay his indebtedness.</p> - -<p>And, strangely enough, there was Gladys, though nothing had seemed -less likely than that this particular cousin should ever engross Jan’s -thoughts.</p> - -<p>The vague rumors floating about the Misses Larned’s school of great -things to be done at Christmas had crystallized into the delightfully<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>134</span> -definite announcement that the girls were to give a play. And these -thrilling tidings were followed by the still more exciting news that -Gladys had been chosen for the principal part—that of an unfortunate -princess, who, at the end of the play, came into her own again—from -which Gwen, whose talent exceeded her sister’s, was excluded because of -her height. The secret leaked out that the only competitor with Gladys -in the minds of the teachers who made the cast was Daisy Hammond, and -it did not tend to soothe the feelings of that young lady, already -deeply chagrined that Gladys had been preferred to her. But she did -not allow her wounded vanity to make any difference in her friendship -for Gladys, treating her with more rather than less affection during -these trying days, a fact to which Gladys triumphantly called Gwen’s -attention as “perfectly sweet and dear of Daisy.”</p> - -<p>There came a day—a dreadful day—however, less than a week after the -matter of the distribution of the parts had been settled when the elder -Miss Larned—and the more awful Miss Larned, if there were degrees in -the awe-inspiring<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>135</span> qualities of the sisters—came into the class-room -and announced that for reasons into which it was not necessary to -enter, but which were deemed quite sufficient by the faculty, the -principal part in the Christmas play had been transferred from Miss -Gladys Graham to Miss Daisy Hammond. Miss Gladys, she added, had been -assigned the rôle of second court lady.</p> - -<p>There was a silence more profound than mere absence of speech as this -announcement fell on the ears of the first class, and it realized what -it meant. “Second court lady!” Why, it was only a “thinking part,” a -mere figure which trailed in and out, swelling the number of attendants -on the principals in the play! What could have happened? For evidently -this was a punishment inflicted upon Gladys, but for what? All eyes -turned upon the deposed princess, who sat staring at the desk whence -her sentence had proceeded, turning rapidly every shade and color of -which the human countenance is capable, tears starting to her eyes, -her lips quivering, but with such a look of blank amazement visible -through her grief that most of her mates decided on the spot that -whatever might<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>136</span> be wrong Gladys was as ignorant of it as they were. -Daisy Hammond’s face wore a look of gentle commiseration and regret, -combined with wonder. She kept looking toward Gladys and raising her -eyebrows inquiringly, while she shook her head in a vaguely expressive -manner. As soon as recess came a buzz of voices rose on every side, and -all the girls rushed to Gladys to ask what she had done to offend Miss -Larned and receive such a crushing blow. They found Daisy Hammond with -her arms around her friend, begging her to tell her what had happened -to make Miss Larned do “such a horrid, horrid thing,” and assuring her -that she would not “think of playing a part which had been taken from -darling Gladys.”</p> - -<p>“There hasn’t the least bit of a thing happened,” Gladys said in reply -to the chorus of inquiries. “I don’t know anything more about it than -you do. But I don’t care. If they want Daisy to play the princess, let -her play it. The only thing I hate is being disgraced like this before -the whole school, all for nothing.”</p> - -<p>“Go to Miss Larned and ask her why she has changed her mind,” advised -Dorothy Schuyler.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>137</span> “Tell her we all think she is offended with you, and -you think so, too, and tell her you aren’t asking to be given the part, -but you do ask for a chance to defend yourself if she thinks you have -done wrong.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the thing to do, Glad,” said Gwen decidedly. “Come on. I’ll go -with you, and if she isn’t fair to you I’ll throw up my part, and so -will Jan.”</p> - -<p>An irrepressible gleam of triumph which shot across Daisy Hammond’s -face before she could repress it, and a quick glance between her and -Ida Hammond and Flossie Gilsey, did not escape the keen eyes of “Miss -Lochinvar,” whose suspicions were alert. Nor was she less sure that she -had seen the glance when Flossie Gilsey said sweetly: “You won’t spoil -the play, Gwen! You know no one could take your place.”</p> - -<p>This was strictly true, for Gwen had real dramatic talent and had been -given a rôle requiring more acting than that of the heroine, for she -was the leader of the princess’s enemies and had some telling lines and -situations.</p> - -<p>“I certainly shall not care about spoiling the play, even if my getting -out of it did spoil it,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>138</span> if my sister is unjustly treated,” said Gwen. -“Come on, Gladys. We’ll let you know, girls, what Miss Larned says.”</p> - -<p>The Grahams came back before many minutes, Gladys in tears, Gwen with -a flushed and angry face. “She won’t explain one bit,” said Gwen. “She -says it is a matter of which the least said the sooner it’s mended. -She insists that Gladys understands, and she says that is all that is -necessary.”</p> - -<p>“But you don’t understand, Gladys?” asked Cena North.</p> - -<p>Gladys gave her head a despairing shake. “Not any more than you do—not -any more than if I had just landed from China and couldn’t speak a word -of English,” she said. “I do think it is the meanest thing!”</p> - -<p>The summons to return to the class-room came at that moment, as a -corroborative murmur arose on all sides.</p> - -<p>“Did you tell her you wouldn’t act?” whispered Daisy Hammond to -Gwen. But Gwen shook her head. “I said nothing about any one but -Gladys—<em>yet</em>,” she replied. Gwen, like Jan, was suspicious of -treachery.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>139</span> -Gladys was escorted home by the sympathizing trio with whom she -most consorted, but Gwen and Jan walked home together, holding an -indignation meeting as they walked.</p> - -<p>“Those Hammonds are as sweet as pie to Glad, but I wouldn’t trust -them,” Gwen said. “Daisy Hammond was wild to be the princess, and she -knew if Gladys could be got out of it she would be put in, for she was -second choice for the part in the first place. I’m just certain that -crowd is at the bottom of it!”</p> - -<p>“So am I,” Jan agreed. “Let’s try to find out what they’ve done and -straighten it out! It’s a perfect shame not to give a girl a chance to -explain. I’m so sorry for Gladys! I’ll never rest till it’s made right.”</p> - -<p>“What a trump you are, Jan,” said Gwen, stopping short to gaze -admiringly at her cousin. “You never bear the least grudge. Glad has -been perfectly nasty to you often, and now she’s in trouble you’d do -anything to pull her through!”</p> - -<p>Jan colored. “I’m not a saint, Gwen,” she said. “I don’t enjoy being -snubbed, but I think it’s mean and low to try to get square with -people.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>140</span> If you can’t fight a thing out at the time, drop it, I say. I -just despise people who keep up and keep up and dwell on fusses—even -if they were in the right in the first place that puts them in the -wrong, to my way of thinking. I don’t believe that’s goodness in me. -I do so hate such petty ways of quarreling. I’d feel low and ill-bred -if I remembered rows and waited a chance to get square. However, as -to Gladys, I don’t want to get square with her. I’ve been sorry she -didn’t like me, but I don’t feel any spite toward her. Besides, she’s -my cousin, my blessed mother’s own niece, and your sister, and Syd’s -sister, and the sister of all of you, and it would be a queer thing if -I wouldn’t stand by my own cousin.”</p> - -<p>Gwen, remembering how she had scolded Gladys for not standing by this -very “own cousin” of hers, still thought it fine in Jan to be so -generous, but she continued her way without further expression of that -opinion, resuming her animated discussion of Gladys’s wrongs.</p> - -<p>That afternoon Gwen and Jan went to see the Misses Larned in the -freedom of hours out<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>141</span> of school. They intended firmly, though -respectfully to decline to appear in the play if their teachers -persisted in refusing to allow Gladys opportunity of clearing herself -of whatever she might be accused.</p> - -<p>Jan’s part was insignificant, for she was not suspected of histrionic -ability, nor was her experience in acting in the barn in distant -Crescendo known to “the Hydra’s” heads, but Gwen was a loss which -threatened the play with disaster, and Miss Larned—the elder and the -only one whom the girls found at home—stooped from her dignified -height to expostulate with her.</p> - -<p>“It is quite natural and in one sense laudable that you should espouse -Gladys’s cause, Gwendoline,” she said. “But I assure you, you are -mistaken in so doing. We are justified in making the change that has -been made, and we are acting kindly in making it with no complaint of -Gladys—merely making it. Gladys understands perfectly why it is done, -and you should trust us—trust me, in fact—sufficiently to assume that -I am acting wisely.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Larned,” said Gwen, trying to control<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>142</span> the wrath this stately -speech aroused, but betraying it in her heightened color, “you think -you are acting wisely, but I think—we all think—you are dreadfully -mistaken. As to Gladys’s knowing what all this is about, I was with her -when she solemnly told you that she did not know. Gladys has plenty of -faults, but in all the fourteen years of her life I never knew her to -tell an untruth if you asked her anything straight out, as you did this -morning. When Gladys says she doesn’t know, <em>she doesn’t know</em>. -And if it comes to trusting any one, I must trust my own sister’s word -when I know I can. If Gladys was untruthful I would be fair enough to -own it—to myself, anyway—and keep still. But lying is not a Graham -fault, and I know Gladys is in the dark about what makes you take her -part from her. And I want to ask you if you think it is fair to condemn -any one without a hearing?”</p> - -<p>“I can not allow you to question my judgment, Gwendoline,” said Miss -Larned. “The matter is closed.”</p> - -<p>“Very well. Then I must ask to be excused from taking any part in the -play, Miss Larned,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>143</span> said Gwen rising, with hardly less dignity than -Miss Larned herself.</p> - -<p>“Gwendoline, you will put us to serious inconvenience. There is no one -in the school competent to act the part assigned you save yourself,” -said Miss Larned. “You should have the success of the play, the honor -of your school, when strangers will come to witness your efforts, -sufficiently at heart to sacrifice something for it.”</p> - -<p>“I have the honor of my sister a little nearer my heart than the honor -of the school, Miss Larned,” said Gwen. “I care more what people think -of Gladys than what they think of the acting, though I would have -worked hard to make that play go. But as to any one taking my place, -my Cousin Janet here has been trying my part at home and she acts it -better than I do. She has acted a great deal before she came to New -York. She could do it, if she would. I certainly must resign it under -the circumstances.”</p> - -<p>Jan looked at Gwen in surprise at this suggestion, not guessing that it -was a bit of pure malice, intended to heighten Miss Larned’s regret.</p> - -<p>That lady turned to Jan graciously. “Janet<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>144</span> an actress!” she exclaimed. -“I am surprised. Though Janet has shown such admirable scholarship -since we had the pleasure of receiving her into our care, I do not know -why I should wonder at discovering this accomplishment to be hers. -Then, my child, if your cousin persists in her refusal to listen to -reason, and to injure herself and us for her sister’s sake, I will give -her part to you, if you are as capable of performing it as she thinks -you.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Miss Larned,” said Jan hastily, “but I wouldn’t take it for -the world. I feel just as Gwen does about Gladys—of course, because -an own cousin is the very next thing to your sister—and I must give -up even the little part in the play which I have already learned. I -wouldn’t take part in it for anything unless Gladys has a chance to -clear herself of whatever you think she has done and is proved guilty. -Neither Gwen nor I would take her part if she deserved punishment. We -only want you, please, to let her know what she is accused of.”</p> - -<p>“I have told you that she already knows. If she does not choose to tell -you, that is her own affair. I must wish you good-day, young ladies.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>145</span> -I really have no time to waste on arguments with my pupils.” And Miss -Larned made them a curt bow of dismissal and sailed from the room, -leaving them to find their way out as they could. She was not dull -enough to fail to perceive that Gwen had suggested Jan’s acting merely -for the pleasure of hearing the girl refuse to accept the part.</p> - -<p>With this small satisfaction to comfort her, Gwen returned slowly -with Jan to her home. It was maddening to feel that the Christmas -festivities were to end in disgrace to Gladys, loss of her own part in -the play, which Gwen could not help knowing she could act well, and -universal discomfort. And still less endurable was the situation to -both Gwen and Jan that they felt convinced that Gladys’s friends had -acted treacherously toward her and that they were powerless to prove -their theory or bring about justice.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>146</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="xi">CHAPTER XI<br /> -<span>“THERE NEVER WAS KNIGHT LIKE THE YOUNG LOCHINVAR”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> days that followed Gladys’s downfall were far from pleasant at -school. Gladys was miserable, Gwen and Jan indignant, and their -classmates divided into two camps, of which the larger was strongly -partisan of the Grahams, but the second sided against them or “didn’t -know.” The play, recast and with an incompetent girl in Gwen’s -place, went badly at its rehearsals, and the Misses Larned were as -cool to Gwen, who was responsible—or whom they chose to consider -responsible—for its disaster as they dared be to one of two valuable -pupils who had two more sisters at home growing up to scholar’s estate. -Gladys had been with difficulty persuaded by Gwen and Jan to keep -the story of her wrongs a secret at home until later. These would-be -detectives hoped to discover the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>147</span> cause of Miss Larned’s injustice, -and they knew that if Mrs. Graham learned of her daughter’s treatment -she would demand instant reparation or take her from school, and the -mystery would remain a mystery to the end. But at the close of the -third day Gwen and Jan were no nearer its solution, and Gladys was -passionately declaring that she couldn’t and wouldn’t keep the secret -any longer. She knew, she said, that her mother “would take her away -from the horrid old Hydra if she heard how she had been treated, and -for her part she did not think any one with any self-respect ought to -be willing to have her stay—much less try to keep her there.”</p> - -<p>Just as Gladys was on the eve of becoming utterly unmanageable, chance -put the clue to the affair into Jan’s hands, or perhaps it was good -fairies, approving her unselfish desire to help her cousin, forgetful -of Gladys’s many unkindnesses to her.</p> - -<p>Three of the teachers were standing in the hall at noon as Jan came -down it. She had no thought of approaching unseen or unheard, but it -happened that the day was dark and the hall<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>148</span> badly lighted at that -point, and Jan had on her rubbers, deadening her footfall.</p> - -<p>She heard the name “Gladys Graham,” and stopped short. There was no -time in which to debate her action. She despised listening, but she -wanted—no, that did not express it—she felt that she <em>must</em> hear -what was being said. Before she had more than grasped the temptation -before her, and had not had time to yield to it or resist it, she heard -in the brief pause she made at the turn of the hall words which gave -her quick wits the clue for which she longed. The English teacher’s -voice, clear and resonant, reached her. She was saying: “There can not -be the least possible doubt of the child’s guilt. It was an abominable -letter, begging Daisy to join her in a plot to bring discredit on -the entire class and school, written in Gladys’s hand, on that very -peculiar foreign paper she has, and which there is none like in the -school, if there is in the city. And Daisy, whom you never liked, Miss -Esterbrook, had written across the bottom of the page: ‘I would not do -such a thing for the world.’ The paper fell into Miss Larned’s hands -accidentally—it had got in with some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>149</span> composition papers I had to -correct. Gladys deserves much more severe treatment than being deprived -of her part in the play, but policy, as well as kindness, makes Miss -Larned hush the matter up. It is very fine of Daisy Hammond, and shows -that she really loves Gladys, that she does not tell the other girls, -for of course she must guess what is wrong.”</p> - -<p>“I could not have believed such a thing like that of Gladys,” said the -German teacher. “She is wain and not so much a student as her sister, -but I have never a bad child found her.”</p> - -<p>Jan turned back and went quietly up the hall in the direction whence -she had come. No one had seen or heard her, and she wanted to make -certain that she was able to speak naturally before she encountered the -group of teachers.</p> - -<p>So this was the trouble! Daisy Hammond had evidently written a letter, -purporting to come from Gladys, containing a proposal to do something -wrong, a proposal which she—writing then in her own person—had -indignantly refused. Daisy then had contrived that the letter should -fall into the teachers’ hands, knowing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>150</span> or hoping that the result of -her plot would be to give her Gladys’s coveted part in the play. Jan’s -hands clinched as she realized what a contemptible trick had been -played, and she resolved to expose it if it took the rest of her life -to do so—Jan was inclined to be dramatic under strong excitement.</p> - -<p>And the idea, she thought contemptuously, of Miss Arnold saying that -the paper was written in Gladys’s hand, when all the first class and -second class wrote so nearly alike, that, with the exception of Gwen, -to whom much writing had given an individual hand, one could never be -certain whose writing one was reading. But the peculiar paper? This was -a difficulty, and Jan longed to get Gwen to herself safe at home and -begin investigations with her help. But Gwen was out when Jan reached -the house, and on second thought it struck “Miss Lochinvar” that it -would be delightful if she could ferret out Gladys’s wrongs alone. What -happiness it would be to know that she—the unwelcome cousin, of whom -Gladys had always been ashamed—should be able to set her right in the -eyes of the school where her present disgrace<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>151</span> far exceeded that of -having a cousin who did not mind confessing to poverty!</p> - -<p>As a preliminary step, this dawning Sherlock Holmes went to work on -paper dolls’ dresses for Viva, little as they seemed to bear on the -case. She was anxious not to arouse Gladys’s suspicion, and she wanted -an excuse for obtaining some of “that very peculiar foreign paper” of -which Miss Arnold had spoken as belonging to Gladys.</p> - -<p>“Have you any sort of odd letter-paper, Gladys, that you would let -me have to make a doll’s dress?” asked artful Jan. “I want something -stiffer than the paper we have, and something out of the common.”</p> - -<p>Gladys received the request graciously. She had been pleasanter to Jan -since she had stood by her in the matter of the play and had refused to -take Gwen’s part when it was offered her—a fact that Gwen was careful -that her sister should know, not failing to point out the contrast of -this loyalty to her own treatment of Jan.</p> - -<p>“I had the very thing,” said Gladys, “but there isn’t a scrap left. -Wait—I’ll look—maybe there is just a scrap.” She tossed over -the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>152</span> papers in her desk and produced a half sheet of a peculiar -greenish-gray paper with a tulip design in one corner. “Would this be -any good?” she asked. “I had lots of it, but I gave half to Daisy, and -mine is all used up. It came from Holland, and now I’m sorry I didn’t -keep all of it, for nobody has any like it.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t tell whether it will be useful or not,” said Jan truthfully, -for she had not seen the paper on which the incriminating letter of -which the teachers had been talking was written. Her heart gave a leap -as she heard Gladys say so unconsciously that she had divided her paper -with Daisy. “I’ll take it, if you don’t want it, and see if I can use -it.”</p> - -<p>“All right. I don’t want it. Half a sheet is no good, but isn’t it -nice, with those tulips in memory of Holland in the corner?” said -Gladys, looking regretfully at the solitary remainder of her too great -generosity.</p> - -<p>“It’s just as pretty as it can be, and it’s nice for a New York girl to -have, because the Dutch brought their tulip bulbs over here. Thanks, -Gladys. I’ll do as much for you, if I can.” And Jan laughed nervously.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>153</span> -“You needn’t mind about doing anything, if you can’t do more than -give me half a sheet of letter-paper,” said Gladys. And Jan ran away -thinking how much nicer Gladys was now that misfortune had made her -less airy.</p> - -<p>Viva did not get her doll’s dress made from Gladys’s contribution. Jan -cut out a dress from half of the half-sheet, but carefully preserved -the upper part with the tulips in the corner. The next day at school -she carried her deep-laid plan further. Daisy Hammond, as well as -Gladys, had been more civil to her since the trouble, though from some -other cause. Jan could not quite see what this cause could be, but she -decided that, in spite of her efforts to control her voice and eyes, -something of the suspicion she felt toward Daisy had been betrayed, -and that Gladys’s false friend feared “Miss Lochinvar’s” possible -discoveries.</p> - -<p>Counting on Daisy’s evident desire to propitiate her, Jan went to her -at recess. “Daisy,” she said, “Gladys gave me a stray half-sheet of -paper to make a doll’s dress for Viva. She said she hadn’t any more to -give me, and I want some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>154</span> badly. Gladys didn’t say I might ask you, but -she did say she had given some of her paper to you. Have you the least -little sheet, or even half a sheet, that I might have to finish with?” -And Jan held up the quarter-sheet of paper which she had kept.</p> - -<p>Daisy could not repress a start as she saw it, and she glanced sharply -at Jan’s rosy face. But “Miss Lochinvar” had her wits about her, and, -though she noted the look of fear that passed swiftly across Daisy’s -face, she met that young lady’s eyes with her own brown ones smiling -steadily, and Daisy saw no sign of a latent motive behind the innocent -request.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t believe I have a bit like that,” she said. “Gladys only -gave me two or three sheets, ever so long ago. I’ll give you any other -I have.”</p> - -<p>“Gladys said she had given her half,” thought Jan, keenly alive to -Daisy’s words and actions. But she said aloud: “Let me go with you -while you look. I wouldn’t mind for myself. I could get on without -the paper, but I’d like to finish what I have begun for my cousin.” -It really was good sport to say this, knowing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>155</span> what a different -significance from her own Daisy would attach to her words.</p> - -<p>Daisy dared not refuse Jan for fear of arousing her suspicions, so she -went down-stairs with very bad grace, Jan following close at her heels.</p> - -<p>At Daisy’s desk Jan kept right at her back so that she could see its -contents plainly. Daisy could hardly restrain her annoyance as she -tossed her paper about with movements that were so unnatural that Jan -knew she was on the track of what she sought.</p> - -<p>“There isn’t a bit here,” said Daisy, hastily throwing a copy-book to -one side. “Take this pinkish shade. It’s nicer for dolls, anyway.”</p> - -<p>But Jan was too quick for her. “Pink wouldn’t go with the dress I -began,” she said, reaching over quickly and raising the copy-book. -“Why, there are several sheets of this Dutch paper! You covered it up -and didn’t see it, Daisy.”</p> - -<p>Daisy flushed crimson, even up into the roots of her hair. “What right -have you to touch my desk, Janet Howe?” she cried angrily. “I never -allow any one to do that.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, very well. You needn’t get so mad. I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>156</span> didn’t know you objected,” -said Jan quietly. “And if you didn’t want to give me the paper you -weren’t obliged to. Why didn’t you say so when I asked you?”</p> - -<p>Daisy saw that she had made a mistake. Perhaps it was only her guilty -conscience that made her fear Jan. Surely that troublesome young person -looked as calm and innocent as the new moon, not at all eager for the -paper. Perhaps she really did want it for the doll’s dress and nothing -else. In any case, it would not do for her to act guilty.</p> - -<p>She laughed affectedly, and said: “How absurd you are, Jan. Of course -I’m willing you should have the paper. You startled me, that’s all, and -it does make me furious to have any one touch my things. Take all the -paper, if you want it—I am sure I’m willing.”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed; but if you can spare one sheet I’d be glad,” said Gwen. -Then with a sudden realization of the value of witnesses, she turned to -Dorothy Schuyler, who had just entered the schoolroom. “See this paper -Daisy has given me. Gladys gave it to her. It came from Holland. Did -you ever see any like it?” she said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>157</span> -“Never. Isn’t it pretty?” said Dorothy, feeling the texture as she -paused on her way to her own desk. And Jan knew that, if she needed it, -there was some one who could prove that she had received the paper from -Daisy and not from Gladys.</p> - -<p>At this point in her plotting Jan stopped for two days, keeping Gladys -quiet in the meantime by a hint of hope which set her agog with eager -impatience.</p> - -<p>Then, without giving any reason for her request, she asked Cena North -to borrow Daisy’s blotter and forget to return it; instead, to give it -to her—Jan—after school.</p> - -<p>Cena was ready to do anything that Jan asked of her. She admired -fearless “Miss Lochinvar” with all the might of her own quiet nature.</p> - -<p>Not for nothing had Jan read stories in which looking-glasses had -disclosed the secrets of blotters. Locking her door on her arrival in -her own room, putting a chair before it in case the impossible should -happen and some one should open it, pulling down the shade to the -extreme annoyance of Tommy Traddles, sitting on the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>158</span> window-sill, and -lighting the gas, this solitary conspirator held the blotter before her -mirror.</p> - -<p>She nearly fell over in the joyful shock of the revelations thus -obtained. Only a word here and there, but they were enough. Though -Jan knew nothing of the contents of the letter which had fallen by -deliberate apparent chance into Miss Larned’s hands, she saw that -these words must be part of it, preserved by the faithful blotter to -incriminate the girl who had betrayed her friend, and fought her, not -fairly, but treacherously, for precedence.</p> - -<p>With the blotter and the sheet of paper she held in her hands the -proofs which should reinstate Gladys on the morrow. Now it was time to -take Gwen into her confidence, and she turned down the gas, drew up the -shade, removed her superfluous barrier, and thrust an excited, flushed -face out of the door.</p> - -<p>“Gwen, Gwen, come here!” she called, and Gwen flew out of her room, -knowing from the tremulous voice, strained and unnatural in tone, that -something had happened.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>159</span> -</div> - -<h2 id="xii">CHAPTER XII<br /> -<span>“’TWERE BETTER BY FAR TO HAVE MATCHED OUR FAIR COUSIN WITH YOUNG -LOCHINVAR”</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Gwen</span> and Jan held a council of war. But it was a long time before -they reached the council. It took so long to tell the history of the -campaign which “Miss Lochinvar”—worthy of her name—had been waging, -single-handed and alone, in her cousin’s behalf. It was a story full -of “I thoughts,” and “I saids,” and “she saids”; of “I founds,” and “I -heards,” and “she dids.” Gwen could not sit still to listen, but walked -up and down the room, eyes flashing and cheeks burning, till Tommy -Traddles—sensitive, like all cats, to perturbation in the air about -him—jumped up on the top of the bookcase, and watched her with large, -disapproving eyes, doubtless thinking that people who did not belong to -the feline family were most foolishly excitable over trifles.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>160</span> -The result of the girls’ consultation—when they reached that -point—was that Gwen and Jan left home early on the following morning -together, and when Gladys followed later she was met at the door -by Miss Larned’s maid, requesting her immediate attendance in that -personage’s private room.</p> - -<p>“Probably they’re going to expel me this time,” thought the victim of -previous injustice. “I don’t care. It’s the meanest school in New York, -anyway!”</p> - -<p>She ascended the stairs slowly, “standing with reluctant feet” at the -threshold of the Misses Larneds’ sanctum a moment before she knocked.</p> - -<p>Opening the door at the permission to do so, she saw an amazing sight. -There were both the august sisters sitting as if in judgment, flanked -by Miss Arnold, the English teacher. There were Gwen and Jan flushed, -trembling, plainly quivering with excitement. And—most wonderful of -all—there was Daisy Hammond dissolved in tears, looking “as though she -could not look anywhere,” as Gladys said afterward.</p> - -<p>“Ahem! Miss Gladys Graham, we have sent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>161</span> for you,” began the elder -Miss Larned, portentously. “We have learned that we were mistaken in -thinking you guilty of a shocking action, in punishment of which you -were deprived—as we supposed justly and with full cognizance on your -part of the cause of our decision—of your part in the Christmas play. -We have but just learned that you were absolutely guiltless of the -offense.”</p> - -<p>“I told you I hadn’t done anything, and I didn’t know what made you -pounce on me,” said Gladys, so embarrassed by this flood of Johnsonian -English, of which she did not understand half the words, as well as -perturbed by the fact dawning on her that instead of being expelled she -was being reinstated, that she expressed herself with inelegant brevity.</p> - -<p>At another time Gladys’s “pounce” would not have passed unreproved. As -it was, Miss Larned resumed what her pupils disrespectfully called “her -language.”</p> - -<p>“A letter fell into our hands, purporting to be written by you, -on a certain imported paper which you alone possessed,” Miss -Larned continued. Gladys started, and looked at Jan, who<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>162</span> nodded -significantly. “The letter proposed a course disgraceful in itself and -injurious to the school. Miss Hammond was supposed to have been the -recipient, and she had indignantly repudiated what was apparently your -base proposition. We have discovered that Miss Hammond was the sole -author of the letter; that by apparent accident she contrived it should -fall into our hands. Her motive was envy of your superior part in the -coming play and the desire to have you deprived of it, knowing that, -if this were to happen, she would be assigned the part in your stead. -Her plot has been so far successful. But for your cousin, Miss Howe, -the true culprit would not have been discovered. Actuated by firm faith -in your innocence, as well as affection, she has devoted herself to -discovering the truth. Chance put into her hands the clue of what we -intended—charitably to you—to retain a secret. She has worked upon -that clue very cleverly, and, armed with her proofs, laid the case -before us this morning. Miss Hammond, seeing the futility of doing so, -has attempted no extenuation of her wrong, but confesses it fully. We -therefore restore to you our<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>163</span> confidence and regard, expressing also -our regret that you have undergone this trial, which will doubtless -be beneficial to you, nevertheless. And we also request that you once -more assume the rôle of the princess in the play. Your sister and your -cousin will resume their parts if this arrangement pleases you.”</p> - -<p>Gladys was sustained from actual collapse by the formality of this -lengthy address, but she was dreadfully upset, and had great difficulty -in murmuring her agreement to this arrangement. Miss Larned, seeing -that she was overwhelmed by the revelations so suddenly poured forth -upon her, graciously arose and held out her hand in amicable dismissal.</p> - -<p>“We will excuse you, Miss Gwendoline and Miss Gladys Graham, from -attendance on your classes to-day. You, too, Miss Howe, may be excused. -And you, Miss Hammond, will hardly be in a fit condition mentally to -apply yourself. You will, therefore, keep holiday to-day, reporting at -the usual hour to-morrow. And I need not say, I trust, that as this -melancholy affair was preserved a secret when Miss Graham was supposed -to be the guilty one, so it will be close<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>164</span> guarded now that we have -learned who is really culpable, much more culpable, I regret to say, -than we had thought Miss Graham in the first instance. You will not -mention to any of your mates, young ladies, the matters which have been -discussed, the facts which have transpired in this room this morning.” -Miss Larned, Miss Agatha Larned, and Miss Arnold bowed to the four -girls, who found themselves in the hall they hardly knew how.</p> - -<p>Daisy Hammond, sobbing bitterly, held out her hand to Gladys, but she -put both her hands behind her back with a movement of aversion. “No, -Daisy Hammond,” she said decidedly. “I don’t say I won’t forgive you -sometime, but I won’t do it now. Gwen was right about you, and I never, -never will go with you again. I wouldn’t have minded anything else, -because we were chums, and I never was better than you were. But I -couldn’t do anything like what you did. To write a letter and pretend -it was mine, and use the paper I gave you for it, and then write an -answer to it yourself, and let me be put out of the play and disgraced, -and never say one word! And pretend every minute you were my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>165</span> friend, -and so sorry for me that they could hardly tease you into playing the -princess—oh, my! I never heard of such a humbug! No, sir, Daisy, we’re -never friends again as long as I live. And I’m dreadfully sorry—it’s -the worst thing I ever heard of—you’re a regular Benedict Arnold!” And -with which parting shot, drawn from her slender armory of historical -lore, Gladys turned away forever from her treacherous friend, her head -held high, but with tears running down her cheeks.</p> - -<p>Gwen, Jan, and she made their way homeward with difficulty, for Gladys -had to be told the whole story, and it was impossible to get her to -grasp it when Gwen and Jan were talking together, and all three were -dodging the carriages spinning down Fifth Avenue.</p> - -<p>The entire day was spent in ceaseless talking over the affair. Mrs. -Graham was captured, and the history of her daughter’s wrongs was -poured into her indignant ears. Sydney had to learn the story on his -return in the afternoon, and Jack grew so angry, and quiet Viva so -excited hearing it discussed that only Jerry preserved anything like -her ordinary state of mind.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>166</span> Jan was a heroine. Mrs. Graham could -hardly express her admiration for the silent determination with which -she had set to work to clear Gladys. Mr. Graham was told at night what -had been going on at school, and after first declaring wrathfully that -he would take Gladys away from the Misses Larneds’, he ended in hearty -laughter over what he termed Jan’s pluck, and compromised on a luncheon -and a theater-party to be given in her honor. This was the way in which -Mr. Graham’s interference in family matters often ended.</p> - -<p>“May I come in, Jan?” called Gladys’s voice at Jan’s door at bedtime.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” said Jan, hastily opening to the slender figure in the -blue eider-down robe which solemnly entered, and would have seated -itself on Tommy Traddles in the rocking-chair but that Jan rescued him.</p> - -<p>“I can’t say what I want to,” Gladys began, almost timidly. “But I -came to thank you for what you’ve done for me. It isn’t clearing up -the row—though that’s a good deal,” Gladys continued quickly as -Jan started to speak. “Of course it is simply fine to get back my -part, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>167</span> have every one understand that the Superior Ladies [this -was Gwen’s name for the Misses Larned, by a transposition of “lady -superior”] were wrong about me. But it’s the way you stood by me. And I -know I’ve been mean to you, Janet. I hated to have you come here, and I -snubbed you, and I made fun of you, and I neglected you——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, stop, for goodness’ sake, Gladys! That’s all right!” cried Jan, -not relishing this outburst of self-abasement.</p> - -<p>“And I called you Miss Lochinvar,” continued Gladys without heeding.</p> - -<p>“No, it was Syd dubbed me that, and I’m proud of the name. I like it -better than my own—now,” said Jan.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it suits you,” said Gladys in the same monotonously melancholy -tone. “I read over the poem to-day, and you’re very much like him. -Brave and straight, and everything you try goes through. But I didn’t -mean it like that. I meant it nastily. But I have learned a great deal, -Janet. I shall never be such a foolish girl again. It is an awful thing -to find out your friends are perfectly horrid.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>168</span> -Jan tried not to laugh, but did not succeed very well. Gladys could not -be quite simple even under sincere feeling, such as Jan felt sure was -moving her now.</p> - -<p>“You haven’t found that out about everybody, Gladys. And, honestly, I -think the Hammond-Gilsey crowd isn’t much of a loss,” she said.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Gladys sadly. “Gwen was right. They’re vulgar, ill-bred -girls. But I don’t see why I couldn’t know that as well as Gwen did. -And, besides, I’m kind of sorry I know it now. But I haven’t found out -you’re mean. I have found out you’re the very nicest girl I ever saw. -And what I wanted to ask you was if you thought, after a while—a long, -long while—you could forgive me, and like me a little bit?”</p> - -<p>“Why, Glad, I don’t even remember I have anything to forgive!” cried -Jan, throwing her arms impulsively around the neck of the small figure -of humble contrition. “And I do like you now—no, I don’t! I love -you—aren’t you my own cousin, and aren’t we going to be friends?”</p> - -<p>“I am going to be <em>your</em> friend, and I’m going to try to be the -kind of girl you are,” said<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>169</span> Gladys, returning Jan’s warm kisses -heartily, but in a chastened manner. “I would rather you wouldn’t say -you love me yet, because if you do it must be just for Gwen’s sake, or -because I’m your cousin, and I want you to love me anyway—because I’m -worth loving.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you’re worth loving, Gladys. And I think this trouble at -school is a perfect blessing!” cried Jan. “You were all mixed up with -that worldly, silly lot of girls, and it was just as bad for you! -You’ll be ever so much more sensible and nicer when you are done with -them.”</p> - -<p>“I hope so,” returned Gladys, evidently not in a mood to take a -hopeful view of herself. “If I had been sensible I wouldn’t have liked -them—Gwen didn’t. You never can like me as well as Gwen, because she -really is sensible, and she’s dreadfully clever, and then she’s been -pretty nice to you all along. Just think of my caring because those -girls knew you hadn’t any money! Shouldn’t you have supposed I’d have -known they weren’t ladies, and that you were, and not have cared—just -despised them?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Jan, stifling a yawn, for an exciting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>170</span> day had left her -too sleepy to enter into discussions, moral or social. “I guess people -are like things to eat—you like some from the start, and others you -have to learn to like. The Hammonds were a sort of puff paste, and too -much of them gives you indigestion. Don’t you bother any more about me, -Gladys. We’ll have such good times together that you’ll forget you ever -were mortified by your Western cousin.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t, Jan,” said Gladys gravely. “I’m so ashamed.”</p> - -<p>“Now that’s a healthy feeling. I’m always an angel for several days -after I’ve been ashamed of myself,” laughed Jan, kissing her crushed -visitor good night.</p> - -<p>Jan fell asleep with Tommy Traddles purring at her feet and something -very like a purr in her own heart, so full of content it was. For the -first time she felt that her peaceful conquest of the Graham family was -accomplished, that there was not one under that roof that night that -did not love her, and to whom her coming was not a matter for which to -be glad. Sydney had been indifferent, but now they were the best of -friends. Gladys had disliked her, but she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>171</span> bade fair to love her more -than Gwen did. And her Aunt Tina had bade her good night with positive -affection in her kiss, a kiss that was not usually given when she left -her to sleep. Jan felt very happy, very grateful for the love that was -springing up around her, not realizing that it was a case of the mirror -of which her mother had written her, which Thackeray had said gave back -one’s own expression.</p> - -<p>Jan was so full of unselfish love that she diffused warmth, and the -chill of the big brownstone house was fast disappearing in the glow of -her unconscious girlish sweetness.</p> - -<p>But it was part of her charm that she should never think such thoughts -as these. Instead, she wondered happily and sleepily how it was that -everybody was proving so nice, and resolved to do all she could to make -the Christmas play a complete success.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>172</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="xiii">CHAPTER XIII<br /> -<span>“‘NOW TREAD WE A MEASURE,’ SAID YOUNG LOCHINVAR”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> Christmas day drew near Jan found that down in the bottom of her -heart lurked a dread of the beautiful festival which would crop out at -odd moments when the preparations for the play allowed it opportunity. -It was not that she was homesick now, nor that every one in her uncle’s -house was not affectionate toward her, but Christmas was Christmas and -home was home, and she had never before welcomed one beyond the charmed -circle of the other. When she thought of her little Poppet, Jerry could -not fill her place, and she hardly saw how Christmas could be truly -“merry” without the dear home voices to wish it so. But Jan remembered -her mother’s rule for being happy, which was to forget oneself and make -others as happy as lay in one’s power, and, following this rule, Jan -found<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>173</span> it working better than she had believed possible.</p> - -<p>Sydney had not been able to return her five dollars yet, and Jan had -written her mother about its loan, explaining to her that lacking it -she could not buy the home presents she had planned to send. The result -of this letter had been one from Mrs. Howe, warning Jan against helping -Sydney in concealing his troubles and mistakes from his father, but -admitting that she was not able to judge the wisdom of Jan’s course -in a household to which she was a stranger, and enclosing another -five-dollar bill to take the place of the one gone to help poor Sydney.</p> - -<p>Knowing how scarce dollars were in the little house in Crescendo, Jan -shed a few tears over this letter, but cheered up as she put on her hat -and jacket to go out to do her shopping, hoping that the first five -dollars were to prove a good investment, and feeling sure that she -could never have won Sydney to confession to his father unless she had -first found a way to help him to have less to confess.</p> - -<p>There was no time to be homesick and dread Christmas, because every -moment was so full<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>174</span> getting ready for its coming. The play required -hard work, for the double change in the cast had thrown it back. Then -every other minute which she could snatch Jan worked fast on gifts for -the Crescendo dear folk and for those around her. It had been hard work -to coax the five dollars into getting her materials for a trifling -remembrance for each one on this long list, even though the nimble -fingers and quick wits were active in fashioning slight foundations -into desirable forms.</p> - -<p>Hummie had taught the little girl knitting in the funny German -left-handed fashion, and white Shetland wool was so cheap that fifty -cents gave her enough for a little hood for Poppet, a scarf for her -mother to throw over her head on summer evenings, and another for her -aunt, which Jan knit with misgivings of its acceptability.</p> - -<p>Little Dresden flowered linen glove and handkerchief cases, daintily -embroidered, were the best that Jan could do for Gwen and Gladys, and -she made similar cases to hold scarfs for Sydney and her brother Fred. -A scrap-book for Jerry and doll’s clothes for Viva took so much<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>175</span> time -that a less cheery and industrious person than Jan might have lost -heart, but she stitched away blithely, and actually accomplished what -she had set out to do.</p> - -<p>Gwen found out how slender was her cousin’s store for Christmas gifts, -and was more moved by the thought of trying to make so many purchases -with a sum which she would have spent on one gift than she would have -been by more biting forms of poverty, probably because this touched her -personal experience. The result was that she and Gladys went off on -private shopping tours of their own, and when the day came for packing -the box which Jan was to express to Crescendo beautiful presents came -forth from secret nooks in the girls’ rooms, and Jan was overwhelmed -with the vision of the delight with which the beaming faces so far away -would gleam as the undreamed-of riches were unpacked.</p> - -<p>Even Jerry was inspired by the universal outpouring for the Crescendo -children, and nobly tucked, unseen by any eye, into a corner of the box -the rubber top of her discarded bottle, to which she still had recourse -in moments of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>176</span> anguish or when she lay down to sleep, in spite of the -dignity of three years.</p> - -<p>How could Christmas be anything but merry, after all, when it brought -such treasures as met Jan’s opening eyes on that morning? A watch from -her uncle, as tiny as it could be and keep time; its beautiful long -chain and chatelaine pin, from her aunt; the set of Dickens, which she -coveted, from Gwen; a charming little brooch of enameled green leaves -and mistletoe berries, from Gladys; a muff given in Viva’s and Jerry’s -name; a fan from Jack; and, best of all, a book from Sydney, who, as he -handed it to her, said with an honest blush: “I earned the money for -this, Miss Lochinvar, trying to be a man, as you suggested, so I have -a right to give it to you. I can’t give you your five dollars yet, but -I’ll do that, too, later.”</p> - -<p>Three days after Christmas came the play. Jan never knew precisely how -that evening passed. It was a whirl of light and color and excitement -to her, but delightful beyond all telling. It seemed to her that there -never could be again such talented creatures brought together as the -girls proved. She could not criticize—all were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>177</span> wonderful to her, and -she saw no faults in any one’s acting. But if there were degrees in -the marvelous geniuses before her she felt proudly that the highest -were her own family, for Gwen’s haughty, yet animated, rendering of -the duchess seemed to unsophisticated Miss Lochinvar to prove that she -should give up her dreams of authorship and painting, and tread the -boards without delay, the glorious equal of Bernhardt and Duse.</p> - -<p>Nor, in another way, was Gladys inferior—so graceful, dainty and -charming was her rendering of the princess. Jan was so proud of her -cousins that at one point she stood still, quite unconscious that a -burst of applause from the audience was intended for her and not for -Gwen, who had to pinch her and whisper to her to bow, or humble Jan -would not have acknowledged her favors.</p> - -<p>It was fairyland to roll homeward in one’s own carriage after the -play with one’s fellow-actresses, rumpling one’s high-piled, powdered -hair recklessly against the carriage cushions, and burying one’s nose -luxuriously in the flowers which the usher had handed up to each<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>178</span> young -artist, and which filled the carriage with their fragrance.</p> - -<p>“It would never do for me to take to playacting and dressing up too -often,” said Jan with a sigh of delight and regret as the carriage -pulled up at the door, and Susan began to gather up the trophies. “If I -had much of this sort of thing I wouldn’t be any good for real things.”</p> - -<p>“You would soon get used to them and not care so much,” said Gladys -with a touch of her old-time superiority and the air of an experienced -woman of the world.</p> - -<p>“I think New Year’s is a queer, no-kind-of-a-sort of a day,” said -Gladys disconsolately on that morning. It was raining, and there was an -air of melancholy abroad which justified a dismal view of the holiday.</p> - -<p>“I know it!” exclaimed Gwen. “Christmas is over, and school and lessons -are just ahead, and yet it is a holiday and you feel as though you -ought to be having a good time, but you’re not. I never did like New -Year’s day.”</p> - -<p>“Besides, it’s so sad to get old and know you’ve got to be grown-ups in -just a few New Years more,” sighed Viva, so mournfully that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>179</span> the others -shouted, for at seven there hardly seems to be immediate necessity for -grieving over the approach of age.</p> - -<p>“I wonder if there isn’t anything interesting we could do, something we -never do, to begin the year with a rush, and cheer us up,” said Jan, -characteristically, casting about for something to cheer her, even -while inadvertently admitting that she needed cheering.</p> - -<p>Jerry uttered a wail, and Gwen swooped down on Jack, who was tormenting -her. “Let Jerry alone, you trying boy!” she cried. “What is the matter -with you this morning?”</p> - -<p>“He got out of bed the wrong way,” said Sydney, who was lolling in the -window. “I had to trounce him for bothering Drom while I was getting -dressed.” Drom, who was quite recovered, save for a slight stiffness in -the leg which had been broken, wagged his tail at the mention of his -name, as if corroborating Sydney.</p> - -<p>“There isn’t anything to do, Jan,” said Gwen, replying at last to -Jan’s suggestion. “We might get up something with the girls this -afternoon—if they’re not all off somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“I think we are enough to have fun among<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>180</span> ourselves,” said Jan, with an -eye on Sydney, who looked so glum that she longed to shake him out of -his thoughts and not let him go off to find amusement outside.</p> - -<p>“Let’s play house!” exclaimed Jerry hopefully, a suggestion hailed with -a laugh from her sisters and a hug from Jan.</p> - -<p>“See that little Italian boy with the violin,” cried Gladys. “Let’s get -him in to play for us to dance.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dancing in the morning!” said Sydney scornfully, but Gwen and Jan -fairly tore to the door without waiting to discuss the question—they -both would dance at any time of the day or night, and all day and -night, apparently.</p> - -<p>The Italian came wonderingly, but smilingly, at their summons. He could -not speak English, and at first he thought that they wanted to order -him on, and eagerly protested with eloquently outspread palms that he -would not play within their hearing; that he was but beginning his -day’s work having been to the cathedral for mass.</p> - -<p>All of this was lost on the girls, but they saw that he had -misunderstood them, and, falling<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>181</span> back on pantomime, they signified -that he was to follow them up-stairs and play for them to dance.</p> - -<p>“Ah, si, si, si,” he cried, smiling at his own misapprehension, at -them, and at the world at large, and obeyed them gladly.</p> - -<p>In the nursery the impromptu ball began without loss of a moment. -The wandering minstrel played well. Even Sydney’s indifference -thawed beneath the strains of an inspiring waltz, and he swung the -girls around with considerable enjoyment, while the others danced -together, Jack also condescending, though he was at that mid-stage of -boyhood when he regarded all social customs as not only a bore, but a -conspiracy against true freedom.</p> - -<div class="figcenter width500" id="theimpromptu"> - <img src="images/i202-2.jpg" width="500" height="697" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">The impromptu ball began without the loss of a moment.</div> -</div> - -<p>But Jack was certainly in a trying mood that morning. He contrived to -be exasperating in a dozen ways, suited to each person’s weaknesses, -and Gwen threatened to banish him if he did not reform at once, while -Jan—usually so patient with mischief—informed him that he was a -nuisance, and had begun the year about as badly as he could.</p> - -<p>This stern remark made Jack both angry and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>182</span> ashamed, angry enough, -unfortunately, not to allow the shame to bring forth fruit. As the -smiling musician struck up a polka that must have made it hard for the -chairs to keep their legs still, and did make Jerry pick up her skirts -in an improvised dance all her own, Jack grew more obstreperous.</p> - -<p>Gwen and Jan were dancing together, Sydney was trying the heel-and-toe -with Gladys, and Viva was polkaing with her largest doll, her face as -sweetly grave as usual, and her little form swaying most gracefully, -for serious Viva was a born dancer.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the music became irregular in time, and Gwen called over Jan’s -shoulder as they whirled: “What are you doing, boy? You would have to -have crutches to dance that time, it is so hitchy!”</p> - -<p>The Italian only smiled. To all blame as well as to praise he presented -the same unvarying smile, as a safe way to meet the uncertainties of an -unknown race and clime.</p> - -<p>“’Tisn’t the boy, Gwen, it’s Jack!” cried Viva, who had stopped, after -vain pursuit of the time.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>183</span> -“Jack, what are you doing?” cried Gwen, and Jack grinned at her from -behind the ragged arm holding the bow which he had been joggling.</p> - -<p>“Now I am going to have you put out!” cried Gwen, stopping short. “It’s -too bad for you to spoil our sport! I should think you’d be ashamed, -a great boy like you, to make yourself a nuisance and a baby! Hummie, -Hummie! come get Ivan, please; he’s bad.”</p> - -<p>It was the second time that Jack had been called a nuisance in less -than half an hour, and the first time it had been Jan who had said it. -He was in an exasperating and exasperated frame of mind at best, and -Gwen’s words infuriated him. Besides, she had called him a baby, and -summoned the nurse! His hot temper, always in danger of flaring up, -flamed now. With a cry of rage he darted out from behind the musician, -snatched up a triangular block, one of Jerry’s architectural building -blocks lying by the table, and threw it with all his might at Gwen.</p> - -<p>Sydney sprang to catch the uplifted hand, but too late. The block had -flown, with the undeviating<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>184</span> course of a violent throw, straight at -Gwen’s face, and with a moan of pain the poor child threw her arms -above her head, covering her eyes, and sank to the floor on her knees.</p> - -<p>For an instant no one moved, then Jan and Gladys, white with terror, -went to her and tried to raise her, but she drew away from their touch, -and groaning, “My eye—my eye is gone!” pitched forward fainting.</p> - -<p>“Hummie, Hummie!” shrieked Viva, while Sydney lifted Gwen’s head to his -shoulder, and Jack, his wrath spent in the outburst which had done the -unknown harm, stood shaking in every limb, a pathetic image of horror, -and Jerry ran away screaming “Hummie!” at the top of her voice. Nurse -Hummel heard and ran, brushing past Jerry in the hall, and lifted Gwen.</p> - -<p>“Was is happened?” she demanded, looking suspiciously toward the -Italian standing with his bow raised and his violin at his feet, his -face white under the brown tint.</p> - -<p>“Jack threw a block—he was mad,” said Gladys hoarsely. “O Hummie, is -Gwen blind?”</p> - -<p>“Blind! Mein Gott im Himmel!” murmured Hummie, and turned the -unconscious girl’s face<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>185</span> toward her. Then she hastily let it fall -back on her shoulder and gathered her up as though she had been a -baby. “Ach, mein liebchen, my smart Gwen, mit die beautiful eyes!” she -moaned, and bore her away without answering Gladys’s awful question.</p> - -<p>Mr. Graham was out, but Mrs. Graham was in her room in the extension, -away from the sounds of the household. Nurse Hummel called her as she -carried Gwen to her room, and the horror in the old nurse’s voice -penetrated Mrs. Graham’s ears through the closed doors.</p> - -<p>She rushed out, and in an instant the children heard her low cry, -and then her voice raised to a shriek. “Sydney, Sydney!” she cried, -“ride on your wheel for a doctor as fast as you can! Get the first one -who will come! Then ride for Dr. Amberton, the oculist. Look in the -directory for his address. Hurry, oh, for Heaven’s sake, hurry, Syd!”</p> - -<p>Sydney rushed from the room, and with one impulse Gladys and Jan turned -to each other, and held each other close, too frightened for tears. -Viva was comforting Jerry on the stairs. No one remembered Jack, who -most of all in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>186</span> the stricken household was to be pitied then. The boy -slunk away, withdrawing his hand from Drom’s compassionate tongue, and -crawling up the stairs, never stopped till he had reached the top of -the house, and crept shivering into the cupola, where he lay down, a -little heap of misery, to wait till Gwen had died, and they came to -seize him.</p> - -<p>For hours it seemed to him he waited, yet no one came. He was cold, -but he did not mind that. In those awful moments he lived and thought -such agony that it seemed to him if they did not imprison him it would -do no harm to let him go free, for never again, never, could he be -insane with a fit of passion such as had made him begin the New Year by -killing his sister—or blinding her, was it? It did not matter. Jack -was wise enough to know that Gwen blind would not care for life.</p> - -<p>At last a step came slowly, lightly, up the stairs, and Jack cowered -breathless. It was but one person, and not a policeman, not his father, -than whom Jack would rather face an army. It was a girlish step—Jan? -For the first time a ray of hope penetrated the gloom of poor Jack’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>187</span> -mind. Jan always came to help. The door opened. It was Jan.</p> - -<p>“O Jack, poor, poor little Jack,” she sobbed, and, kneeling, put her -arms around him with a tenderness he was too broken to resent. “I’m so -sorry for you! I know how dreadfully you feel now.”</p> - -<p>“Is Gwen dead?” whispered Jack.</p> - -<p>“No, oh, no, dear,” said Jan.</p> - -<p>“Blind?” whispered Jack again.</p> - -<p>“They don’t know. They can’t tell yet,” groaned Jan. “O poor, poor, -clever, dear Gwen, with all her plans, and her beautiful eyes!”</p> - -<p>Jack shivered, and Jan remembered that she had come to comfort the -warm little heart, which was full of noble impulses, though black rage -sometimes held it in control.</p> - -<p>She laid her cheek softly against Jack’s without speaking, and the boy -nestled close to her, feeling there might be pardon for him somewhere -since Jan did not cast him off.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>188</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="xiv">CHAPTER XIV<br /> -<span>“SO FAITHFUL IN LOVE, AND SO DAUNTLESS IN WAR”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> seemed to Jan and Gladys as if the entire world had sunk into -silence, waiting to hear whether or not Gwen must be blind. There was a -hush over the house. Every one spoke and moved softly, not only because -the poor little patient was suffering severe pain, but as if they were -all unconsciously listening for the verdict which they dreaded from -the doctors. And even in the streets they bore with them the muffled -atmosphere of their home. The outside world no longer seemed gay, -noisy, cheerful. Sorrow and anxiety deadened the sights and sounds of -others’ pleasure to them.</p> - -<p>The best physicians of the city were working hard to save Gwen’s -sight—regular physicians to care for the nervous system, which had -sustained a serious shock, and the famous Dr.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>189</span> Amberton, the oculist, -to treat the eye itself, which the sharp corner of the block had struck -with such force that it was impossible to say for some days whether the -sight could be preserved.</p> - -<p>Jan found herself in a different household from the one which had -received her three months earlier. In the face of this misfortune -threatening poor Gwen—one peculiarly dreadful to a girl of her tastes -and ambitions—the indifference to one another which had so shocked Jan -on her coming from her own closely united home disappeared, and the -atmosphere she breathed was full of love, though heavy with grief.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Graham’s interest in her social pleasures, her clubs, and all the -outside issues which Jan had loyally struggled against believing that -she cared more for than for her family, were thrust into the background -and forgotten in the midst of the one absorbing thought. And Jan saw -that her uncle was at last her mother’s own brother; that Wall Street -and money-making no longer seemed important to him. Mr. and Mrs. Graham -went back to the days when they were first married, and Sydney and Gwen -were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>190</span> babies together, when, though they had a pretty home, it was -farther west and farther down in town, and, though Nurse Hummel was -with them, Mrs. Graham had more time and there was more necessity for -her taking care of the little ones. Gwen became once more to them that -baby girl whom they had then watched so proudly, and her mother hung -over her in her darkened room with a loving devotion which suggested -Jan’s own mother to the little exile.</p> - -<p>Gwen turned to this new mother-love with childlike clinging. She -loved to lie with her bandaged eyes resting on her mother’s shoulder, -peaceful, and satisfied in something for which she had unconsciously -longed, though she could not help knowing that her mother’s tears, -which she felt when her groping hand touched her cheek, boded ill to -her.</p> - -<p>Gladys was gentle, unselfish, absorbed in the thought of her sister, -which rendered her a far sweeter, lovelier Gladys than Jan would have -believed she could be when she was occupied only with poor, silly -little Gladys Graham.</p> - -<p>Sydney hovered about Gwen’s door, racking his brains for something to -do for her, all his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>191</span> taciturn indifference lost in his pity and regret -for Gwen. Altogether, Jan could not help half wondering if the worst -were to come, and Gwen lost her sight, if the good accomplished would -not be worth the terrible purchase price.</p> - -<p>Only Jack was outside the pale of the family love during these waiting -days. Jan’s heart ached for the poor little fellow, whose temper had -brought him anguish harder to bear than Gwen’s, but whose father could -not forgive him. Jack’s meals were served up-stairs, and his father -debated sending him away to a military school, where stern discipline -might check the temper which Mr. Graham characterized as “murderous.” -But Jan knew that the shock of seeing Gwen sink beneath the pain of -the missive he had thrown, and the torture of these past days when -every one avoided him, and he waited, like the rest, but not with the -rest, to learn Gwen’s fate, had burned into warm-hearted Jack’s brain -such horror of bursts of passion that the military discipline would -not be necessary, that he was completely cured of even a temptation to -violence.</p> - -<p>“You are our little comfort, Janet,” said her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>192</span> uncle to her one night, -when in the dusk she sat by him chatting of her mother in the hope of -cheering him. “You won’t admit that our poor girl can lose the light -out of her young life, and though you aren’t an old, wise woman, I -can’t help feeling better for your faith.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t that just dear!” cried Jan. “You don’t know how I wish I could -help, but I honestly feel certain that God won’t let splendid, clever -Gwen be blind.”</p> - -<p>“Splendid, clever people are the very ones who have to be perfected -by suffering, dear little Miss Lochinvar—queer how I’ve come to like -that name for you! But you do help. You have no notion how your gentle, -affectionate, sunny little presence cheers your aunt and me, and I -think Gladys is a much better girl for being with you. Jenny has lent -me a simple, genuine little girl who never thinks of herself, and so, -without trying, sweetens all her surroundings. I don’t see how I can -repay either Jennie or her loan,” said Jan’s uncle, drawing her up -close to his side with a warm caress.</p> - -<p>Tears of happiness sprang into Jan’s eyes. “If you really want to do -something for me,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>193</span> Uncle Howard,” she whispered, “forgive poor little -Jack.”</p> - -<p>Her uncle’s face hardened. “Your ‘poor little Jack’ is a thoroughly bad -boy,” he said. “I can’t forgive him till I know how Gwen comes out.”</p> - -<p>“He has done just the same thing, however she comes out, uncle,” said -Jan cautiously. “He did not mean to harm Gwen—he never meant anything -at all, but flew into a rage, and threw the first thing that came -handy. He has done things like that always, and no one thought much -about it, only this time the block struck badly. He will never again -be the same—he is ever so much more to be pitied than Gwen! He isn’t -bad, Uncle Howard. He is a dear boy, generous, truthful, brave, but he -has got a terrific temper. One of our boys has such a temper, but mamma -watches and helps him all she can, and he is getting over it without -such a dreadful thing to cure him as poor Jack has had. You know Hummie -is a dear, but she can’t help a boy the way his father and mother can.”</p> - -<p>“Why, Jan, are you implying that I am responsible<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>194</span> for Jack’s -violence?” demanded her uncle.</p> - -<p>Jan turned crimson, but stood to her guns after a fashion. “He needs -help, uncle, or he did need it—he will not forget now, I think,” she -said. “And you know Aunt Tina and you have been so busy! I love Jack, -Uncle Howard, and I pity him more than I do Gwen. How would you have -felt if you had blinded mamma when you were eleven?”</p> - -<p>“My dear child, I never had such a fiendish temper as Jack’s,” said Mr. -Graham.</p> - -<p>“No, you were more like Gwen, even and pleasant, and you weren’t like -Jack. But Jack is a noble boy. He isn’t mean, and he isn’t unkind,” -said Jan.</p> - -<p>To her great relief her uncle gave a faint laugh. “No one remembers our -childhood like these grandmothers of ours!” he said. “You remember my -boyhood better than I do, Jan.”</p> - -<p>“Let Jack come down and talk to you, uncle,” pleaded Jan, after she -had punished him for his impertinence by spatting the end of his nose -with a favorite movement of her forefinger.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>195</span> “We are all miserable and -worried to death now, but we have each other. But there is Jack—only -eleven—up-stairs, like a prisoner, worse off than any of us, because -he caused all this sorrow! Only Syd and I go near him—and Drom—and -after a while he will be so unhappy you can’t do anything with -him—he’s having a fearful time—it would kill me!”</p> - -<p>“Who is Drom?” asked Mr. Graham.</p> - -<p>“The poor little dog Syd and I saved and had his broken leg set. He’s -a darling, so loving and grateful, and he knows more than lots of -people!” said Jan.</p> - -<p>“What is that Mrs. Browning wrote about some one whose face looked -brighter for the little brown bee’s humming? I used to have time to -read, but I don’t get a moment now! You are a born lover, Jan. Some -people have a talent for loving, just as others have a talent for -music, and some—a few—for cooking,” said her uncle. “I seem to -remember hearing how you swooped down on the persecutors of that dog. -And so you think I’m a bad father?”</p> - -<p>“O Uncle Howard, I never thought anything so horrid or so impertinent!” -cried Jan.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>196</span> “I’m only a little girl, and what do I know about bringing -up children? I never knew any girl outside a story-book who knew how -to bring up a family. But of course I feel as though nothing could be -nice but mamma’s ways, because we are the very happiest children in the -world, and I know she wouldn’t dare leave Jack all alone these dreadful -days.”</p> - -<p>There was silence for a few moments, and then to Jan’s infinite relief -and joy her uncle said: “You are right, Janet. It will do the boy -mischief to be left brooding through these dark days of anxiety. And -I suspect you are right and he has needed wise control all along. Go -up and tell Jack to come to me. Tell him not to be afraid—I know he -has had punishment enough—but to come down, and we’ll begin all over -again.”</p> - -<p>Jan ran off on her errand with a lighter heart than she had had since -the day of the accident, first giving her uncle a warmly grateful kiss -on the forehead, around which the hair was beginning to grow a little -thin. Jack needed no persuading to follow her down-stairs. Much as he -had always feared his father, he would have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>197</span> faced anything rather than -be left any longer a prisoner with his own thoughts.</p> - -<p>Jan left him at Gwen’s door with a kiss the boy did not resent. “Tell -your father all you think and feel, Jack, and don’t be afraid of him. -He understands and wants to help you. We must all hold on to each other -in trouble, you know.” And Jack went slowly on, feeling that they all -must hold on to Jan forever.</p> - -<p>The library door closed behind him, and no one ever knew precisely -what happened in the interview between the poor little culprit and his -father. But when, long past his usual bed hour, Nurse Hummel went to -hunt Jack up, she found him curled up asleep in his father’s arms in -the great leather chair, his legs twined over its arm to supplement -his father’s lap, his cheeks flushed and stained with tears, but peace -written on the parted lips, which looked very childish in slumber.</p> - -<p>As Jan passed into Gwen’s room she found her alone. Her mother, -thinking her sleeping, had stolen away, and Jan, for the same reason, -seated herself noiselessly in the corner, afraid to open the door again -lest she waken Gwen.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>198</span> But Gwen was not asleep. In a few moments she -spoke. “Jan,” she said, “please come where I can touch you.”</p> - -<p>“How did you know who it was?” asked Jan as she obeyed.</p> - -<p>“Blind people have keen hearing,” said Gwen bitterly. “My ears are -learning double work.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose that’s sensible of them, to improve themselves, but -considering you’re not blind they might save themselves the trouble, if -they were lazy,” said Jan lightly, not betraying the shock Gwen’s words -gave her, for no one had hinted at blindness to Gwen.</p> - -<p>“Do you think I don’t know?” asked Gwen, raising herself on one elbow -and speaking with such fierceness that Jan was frightened. “Do you -suppose I don’t know what makes mamma so loving to me, and why she -cries quietly when she thinks I won’t know it? Do you suppose, Janet -Howe, that I don’t know why those horrible doctors are so idiotically -cheerful with me? If that Doctor Amberton tells me any more silly jokes -I won’t answer for what I’ll do or say to him! I am blind—blind—and -I’d far rather be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>199</span> dead! Why didn’t Jack kill me if he wanted to do -anything to me? Do you suppose I can <em>live</em> without my eyes? How -can I write, or paint, or be great—or stand it?”</p> - -<p>Jan was dreadfully frightened. “You are not blind, Gwen,” she stammered.</p> - -<p>“Now don’t you try to tell me stories, Jan, because I won’t stand it!” -said Gwen. “I got the truth out of Viva the other day when mamma let -the poor youngster try to read to me. I nearly scared her to death, -because she won’t fib, and she didn’t want to tell the truth. Now I’m -talking to you, because I trust you, and I can’t keep it to myself any -longer. Jan, Jan, for mercy’s sake, say it isn’t so!”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t so—or it very likely isn’t so,” said trembling Jan. “If you -get all excited and go on like this I don’t know what harm it may do -you—the doctors all say to keep you perfectly still for fear of fever. -You are not blind, and that’s the truth. But they are anxious about -you. Now you see I’m not deceiving you one bit! We didn’t know you -were lying there fretting—why didn’t you speak before? You will get -well—I’m just as sure as I can be you will—but we<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>200</span> all love you so -much we feel awfully to have you sick. But if you did have some trouble -with your eyes you could be just as great—greater! Isn’t it lovely -to have your mother all to yourself like this, and your father never -thinking of business, and Gladys and Sydney, and even little Jerry—of -course sweet little Viva—all just devoted to you? Don’t fret, Gwen. If -you are sick ever so long, you will see!”</p> - -<p>“Come here, Jan. I want to hold you!” cried Gwen, clutching her cousin -with burning hands, and drawing her downward in a half-delirious grasp. -“I won’t see, and that’s just it! O Jan, don’t you know, don’t you -feel, what that means?”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t going to be,” maintained Jan stoutly. “Yes, I know exactly -what it means, but it won’t be so! If it were, you would be just the -very heart of this whole family, and you could write the loveliest -stories and poems, and everything like that! But, what is better, you -could love them and they’d love you, until the whole house would be so -much nicer—like ours, which you always said must be lovely, if it was -poor. For love is best, of anything, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>201</span> -“No, no,” moaned poor Gwen; “my eyes are.” But in spite of the tragedy -hanging over her, Jan comforted her, and she presently fell asleep, her -burning cheek pressed against Jan’s cool one, Jan’s firm hand stroking -her tumbled hair, Jan’s strong young shoulders supporting her, and -Jan’s warm young heart sustaining her by its courage and love.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>202</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="xv">CHAPTER XV<br /> -<span>“ONE TOUCH TO HER HAND AND ONE WORD IN HER EAR”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">“See</span> here, Jan, it’s no good,” said Sydney, speaking so suddenly that -Miss Lochinvar was startled.</p> - -<p>“What isn’t any good?” she asked, giving a last twitch to Tommy -Traddles’s red ribbon.</p> - -<p>“Trying to earn money and go to school at the same time. I am not -making a success of either, for I have only earned about four dollars -and ninety-nine cents,” replied Sydney gloomily.</p> - -<p>“Is the man getting impatient?” inquired Jan.</p> - -<p>Sydney nodded with much emphasis. “Won’t wait,” he said laconically.</p> - -<p>“Then I’ll tell you what to do, Syd,” said Jan, coming over to where -the boy was sitting, moodily jerking the shade cord at the window. “Ask -Gwen to lend you the money. She has<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>203</span> quite a good deal—nearly fifty -dollars—left from Christmas presents, and allowance, and so on, and it -would be better for you to let her help you out, as I can’t.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want a girl’s money, either hers or yours,” said Sydney.</p> - -<p>“Well, I suppose you don’t <em>want</em> it, but you <em>need</em> it -dreadfully,” said Jan with some subtleness of distinction. “And I -want to tell you, Syd, that I think it would be real kindness to talk -to Gwen about your troubles, and get her interested in something. -She isn’t better, and I heard the doctor say that if she couldn’t be -aroused she’d have a serious illness. Get her to think of something -besides her poor eyes, and it would be good for her. Gwen would be -glad, too, to think you trusted her.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder!” said Sydney doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“Well, I know!” said Jan emphatically. “And then, after she’s lent you -the money to square up, tell your father all about it, and get him to -put you in the way of earning something. He ought to know. I don’t feel -right to think I know and he doesn’t. It is wrong to help you have -secrets from him. I wouldn’t have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>204</span> done it if I could have coaxed you -to tell at first.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe I will talk to Gwen,” said Sydney slowly. “I don’t see any other -way unless I do talk to father, and he’d make it pleasant for me if I -did that!”</p> - -<p>“He might take you away from that school and those extravagant boys, -but you’d find he wouldn’t be hard on you. And I should think you’d -like to get out of that crowd,” said Jan.</p> - -<p>Sydney flushed with sudden eagerness. “Say, Jan,” he cried, “I’d give -my head to be let off from college! There’s no college in me—I’m -crazy to live out of doors. I don’t even want to go into business! If -I thought daddy would give me a start civil engineering I’d work hard, -but he won’t. What I’d like is to go out on a ranch. I’d rather study -men and beasts than books. But there’s no use talking—he’s made up his -mind to college for me, and to college I must go.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t that silly! To say there’s no use talking, when you haven’t -tried talking!” exclaimed Jan impatiently. “I never saw a family that -knew one another so little! Why, Uncle Howard<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>205</span> isn’t an ogre! How do -you know he wouldn’t let you do what you like best? ’Tisn’t likely he -wants you to be spoiled! Come home with me when I go,” she added with -sudden inspiration. “Fred talks of ranching, and we’d make a man of you -in Kansas.”</p> - -<p>Sydney swallowed the implication that he was not wholly manly now with -fairly good grace. “Well,” he said, “it’s pretty hard for a fellow to -be different from all around him. I haven’t had to rough it, and I -suppose I got extravagant without knowing it. I’m disgusted enough with -myself to find myself in debt, goodness knows! I’ll see Gwen to-day, -and if the poor old girl wants to lend me her ducats I’ll brace up -and make a clean breast to father. You deserve to have your advice -followed, for you’ve been a trump to me, and to us all, down to this -fellow.” And Sydney affectionately twitched Drom’s tail.</p> - -<p>Jan gave Gwen a hint of her brother’s approaching visit, and Sydney -found her as gentle, loving, and interested as a sister could be.</p> - -<p>“Why, of course, I’ll lend you the money, Syd,” she said. “You ought to -have told me<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>206</span> before. I’ve been thinking that we all told one another -too little. Since I’ve been lying here I’ve had to see with inside -eyes, you know, and I’ve discovered several things. You’ll have to -find my little bead bag in my upper drawer, Syd. That has my money in -it—not my pocket-book. And you’ll have to help yourself to what you -want—if I have so much—for I——”</p> - -<p>Sydney found the abrupt breaking off of Gwen’s sentence very pathetic. -If only Gwen might see again!</p> - -<p>Sydney found the bag and counted over the crisp bills it contained. -“You have four dollars more than I need to pay that shopkeeper,” he -said, putting them back. “Jan lent me five some time ago.”</p> - -<p>“O Syd! When Jan has so little!” said Gwen with reproach in her voice. -“And you went to your cousin instead of your sister!”</p> - -<p>“Well, Gwen, I guess I’ve been a dunce! We have got into the way of -standing off from one another, but you’re a trump, and we’ll stick -together henceforth,” said Sydney.</p> - -<p>Joy such as she had not thought that she could feel again surged -through Gwen’s heart<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>207</span> at these words. “Syd,” she said, “if ‘Miss -Lochinvar’ had never ‘come out of the West’ we wouldn’t have discovered -how horrid it was to be so selfish and distant—maybe never.”</p> - -<p>“That’s shaky English, but solemn truth, Gwendoline, my dear,” said -Sydney. “Jan’s a trump! That’s two trumps now—we’ll have a handful if -we keep on! She’s not one bit goody-goody and she never preaches, but -she seems to clear the air—kind of like a thunder-shower that never -strikes.”</p> - -<p>“More like the little leaven that leaveneth the whole,” said Gwen -softly. “I love her so, I could never tell you! And I always think of -that line in the gospel when I think about her. Now finish up getting -acquainted with the Graham family, Syd, and tell papa how things have -been going at school. He has a right to know, and I don’t believe it -is a good place for you where the boys are spending so much money, and -getting into debt, and all! Tell him I’ve lent you the money, so you -don’t want him to help you that way, but you do want him to show you -how to pay me back, and start square. If I’m not mistaken, papa will be -pleased to find you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>208</span> see things straight without needing showing, and -instead of scolding you, you’ll find him kind and ready to lend a hand.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know that I could say honestly that I hadn’t had some showing -as to the most honorable and manly course,” said Syd truthfully. “Jan -gave me the tip, and now you back her up. I didn’t expect to find girls -so on the level, but I’m glad to say I’m able to see that you’re both -right. I’ll talk to dad the first chance he gives me, and I’m much -obliged, Gwen; we’re better friends from this day. I guess you won’t be -blind—we all are seeing a good deal clearer, strikes me.” And Sydney -disappeared with a boy’s awkwardness in expressing the deep gratitude -and the softer emotion which filled him.</p> - -<p>“Ask Gwen,” said Jan, the artful, as Viva came begging for a story at -dusk. She was beginning to say “Ask Gwen” as often as possible when -one of the three younger Grahams implored a favor. It was long that -they had waited for Gwen’s sentence, and still the doctors could not -be sure of what it was to be. Gladys and Jan had resumed school, and -the hours dragged while the poor child waited their return<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>209</span> and the -coming of her friends who were faithful in spending some time with -her each afternoon. It was to little Jerry and Viva that Gwen found -herself turning for comfort while the others were away; Viva always -gentle, grave, and sweet; Jerry showing herself the dearest mite, with -her headstrong, impulsive baby nature toned down to meet the needs of -her whom she now invariably called her “poor, dear little Gwennie.” -Gwendoline’s talent for story-making was used now chiefly to entertain -Viva, while Jerry spun yarns for “poor, dear little Gwennie,” usually -of thrilling interest, though briefly sustained.</p> - -<p>“Once there was a dreat, bid lion, and he roared—like dis!” And Jerry -interrupted her recital to open her mouth to its widest extent and -roar fearfully in a deep alto. “And he was wery hundry, and he came to -N’Yort, and he ated up seven, five, free little dirls on n’avenue, and -Jewwy Draham shood him off wid her stirts in bot’ hands, and she stared -him so he was awful feared, and she said: ‘Poor, poor lion, come in -n’house and see little Gwennie!’ Isn’t dat er fine stowy?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>210</span> -“Well, he might be an awkward caller,” laughed Gwen. “Perhaps if he’d -eaten up so many little girls he wasn’t hungry, though. Yes, that’s a -fine story, Jerry!” And Gwen groped for the little dimpled hands to -squeeze them, and Jerry snuggled down with rapturous kisses for “poor, -dear Gwennie.”</p> - -<p>Jan rejoiced to see how unconsciously but surely the Graham household -was knitting together around Gwen’s bed. At the worst they would be -happier than before the accident, but Jan would not admit, even to -herself, that the worst was possible.</p> - -<p>Sydney had discovered his father. In a long, intimate talk the boy -had laid before him the difficulties and temptations of his little -world, and found himself telling the man, who remembered quite well, -after all, how it felt to be a boy, some things that he had not said -to the girls. But they had proved right in their prophecies of how his -father would take Sydney’s disclosures. With unspoken self-reproach for -having left a boy of sixteen unguarded, Mr. Graham set to work to undo -his mistakes. If Sydney did not feel that he would be a success as a -business man<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>211</span> or as a professional one, Mr. Graham said, he would not -ask him to go through college. But he did ask him now to work harder -than he had ever done at his books, and prepare himself for whatever he -was to be in the future by doing his duty faithfully in the present. -And he promised him to send him every afternoon to a friend of his, a -professor at Columbia, who had asked for an intelligent boy to copy for -him notes he was making on natural history. He would pay Sydney for -his labor, and thus he could set himself right in his own eyes, and -pay back the money his sister had lent him. In the meantime he would -be having the best possible companionship, and be in the way of making -sure that he was not mistaken in deciding that college life and study -had no charm for him.</p> - -<p>Sydney felt as though the gloom in which he had walked for months had -given way to a glare of sunshine, and he blessed Jan in his heart for -showing him the road to the best and most needed friend that a boy of -his age could have—his own kind father.</p> - -<p>“Daisy and Ida Hammond have left school,” announced Gladys, bursting -into Gwen’s room<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>212</span> one day. “They said their mother considered the -Hydra less exclusive that it had been, and was going to let them go to -boarding-school.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see how they stood it so long after they were found out,” -said Gwen scornfully. “It’s rather nice of them to make the Hydra more -exclusive by removing the only girls in it who had been found out in a -disgraceful act.” Gwen was stronger; she could bear sudden outbursts -from the children, and Jan couldn’t help hoping that the next step -would be the restoration of the wounded eyes to light and health.</p> - -<p>“Oh, as to the exclusive, that refers to me, I suspect,” said Jan so -carelessly that it showed how completely she had lost the timidity and -wounded sensibility of her first days in New York. “Tommy Traddles,” -she added to the cat lying at Gwen’s feet, curled over on his back, -with his four feet drawn up on his white breast, and his tongue -sticking out while he looked over the top of his head to see what -effect his blandishments had, “Tommy Traddles, you may consider that -a squirm, but I consider it a device for winning attention.” And she -proceeded to bury her fingers in Tommy’s white shirt-front,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>213</span> while he -shut his eyes in blissful satisfaction with the result of his “device.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I am thankful they have gone,” said Gladys, removing her rubbers -with her right hand while her left thoughtfully smoothed her stocking. -“It was very disagreeable to have them around when you didn’t want to -go with them. And your set have not been so very anxious to have me, -Gwen. If it hadn’t been for Jan I’d have been quite out of it since the -fuss.”</p> - -<p>“Slang, Gladys?” hinted Gwen, for they had pledged themselves never -to use slang—or, as everybody said in the ancient days of Pinafore: -“Hardly ever!” She had hard work not to rejoice over her sister’s -admission, and found it quite impossible not to smile.</p> - -<p>“I know a great deal more than I did,” continued Gladys. “Those -girls are really a dreadful warning to me. I can see plainly now how -different a real lady is from an imitation one. It’s funny how blind I -was.” She stopped short, frightened by having used a word that never -was to be mentioned before Gwen.</p> - -<p>But Gwen met the allusion quietly. “You were blind first, Glad, and got -well. Maybe I’ll<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>214</span> get well, too. I feel stronger, and sometimes I hope -a little. If I don’t get well, I’m going to try not to be a failure, -and be brave,” she said.</p> - -<p>Gladys went over to her and kissed her with a sweet gravity that was -pretty to see in the little girl who had been so shallow and vain. “My -kind of blindness was worse than yours, Gwen,” she said. “You’d be -nicer than I ever could be if you lost all your eyes.”</p> - -<p>“Gwen isn’t a spider, and Gwen is going to get well,” cried Jan, -laughing to keep from crying.</p> - -<p>Gladys left the room hastily and Jan perched on the bedside, holding -Tommy Traddles’s paw in one hand and Gwen’s fingers in the other. -“I’ve been wanting to tell you something Aunt Tina said yesterday, and -I haven’t had a chance,” she said. “Something just for yourself to -hear—right in your own ear.”</p> - -<p>“This is my own ear, Jan; it was given to me fifteen years ago,” said -Gwen, inclining that organ toward her cousin.</p> - -<p>Jan leaned forward to whisper into it. “She said that you were making -such a peaceful, happy little spot of your room, and were so brave<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>215</span> and -cheerful, and all the children were getting so loving and gentle with -you that she half dreaded to have you get well and break up the little -oasis in the midst of a selfish world. Isn’t that nice for your mother -to have said?” And Gwen could not help feeling that it was.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>216</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="xvi">CHAPTER XVI<br /> -<span>“HAVE YE E’ER HEARD OF GALLANT LIKE YOUNG LOCHINVAR?”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> longer days and greater cold had come. But with the cold was -interspersed here and there a day on which there was a vague far-off -hint of spring in the air, and the lover of nature who went up on the -short Northern road or over into New Jersey to get the full flavor of -his Sunday rest came back with reports of swelling twigs and the first -note of the bluebird; for it was late February.</p> - -<p>Although the doctors would not give better reasons for hope than -their more cheerful manner, there was a growing feeling in the Graham -household that Gwen was going to escape her hard doom, and it was on -one of those illusive days when the atmosphere seems full of light that -Doctor Amberton definitely authorized rejoicing by telling them, when -he came down from Gwen’s room, that the bandages could be removed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>217</span> from -her eyes in a week, and that they would be restored to enjoy the spring -sunshine.</p> - -<p>Mr. Graham shook the doctor’s hand hard, speechless with the joy of -this tidings, while his wife fell sobbing on Jan’s neck, and Viva -tumbled down in a burst of emotion such as silent children sometimes -give way to, and hugged the andirons, kissing their polished tops and -clinging to them hysterically.</p> - -<p>Gladys, Sydney, and Jack were not there to hear the good news, but -Viva ran to call them, and they were not less stirred by the blessed -certainty of Gwen’s escape than were the others; indeed Jack turned -so white on being told that his angry hand had not blinded his sister -after all that his mother sprang to put her arm around him, thinking -that he was fainting.</p> - -<p>Who was to take the good news to Gwen, and how was she to be told? -Gladys wanted the entire family to go up in a body and rejoice with -her, but Mrs. Graham would not permit this, and Mr. Graham suggested -that he and her mother went up together to bring comfort to the girl in -whom they had always felt so much pride, but who had become very dear -in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>218</span> these hard six weeks of courageously borne suffering.</p> - -<p>Jan whispered something in her aunt’s ear, and Mrs. Graham hesitated. -After a moment she said: “I believe it would be the very thing!” and -turning to the others added: “Jan suggests that we let Jack go up, -quite alone, and tell Gwen that he and she have escaped the awful -consequences of his fit of rage. She says he can tell her that he took -her eyes from her, and now he has come to give them back again. It is a -pretty idea. Shall we carry it out?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Sydney decidedly, and “Ye—es,” voted Gladys doubtfully. -But Mr. Graham settled the question by saying: “Go up-stairs to your -sister, Ivan, my man, and tell her that you are bringing her back her -sight—that Doctor Amberton has said that she is safe, and we are -coming up in half an hour to try to tell her how thankful we are.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter width500" id="yourenot"> - <img src="images/i242-2.jpg" width="500" height="679" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">“You’re not going to be blind, not one bit!” said Jack.</div> -</div> - -<p>Jack turned pale, then red; he was not sure whether he liked the errand -or not. He was afraid, and it seemed to him very solemn and difficult -to go to Gwen on such an embassy. He sat down to think it over on the -stairs, and as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>219</span> he thought it rushed over him how Gwen was lying -there, not knowing that she was not to be blind; how all this time she -had patiently awaited this day, knowing it might never come, and worst -of all how his hand had been the one to smite her. A sob rose in his -throat and he scrambled to his feet. Yes, it was good that they had let -him tell her that she was safe, and he must not lose another moment -in doing it. He fell up the stairs, and as he opened Gwen’s door she -sprang up in bed, feeling instantly the excitement with which he was -quivering as his hand touched the knob.</p> - -<p>“What is it, Jack!” she said quickly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Gwen, ain’t it just great?” gasped Jack. “The doctor’s gone and -they sent me up to bring you your eyes, they said, because I took them -away. My, but we’re glad!”</p> - -<p>Gwen clutched the arm impetuously thrown around her. “Jack, is it -true?” she whispered.</p> - -<p>“True! Doctor Amberton said so! You’re to have the bandages off in a -week—you’re not going to be blind, not one bit!” said Jack, choking.</p> - -<p>Gwen fell back, burying her face in the pillows.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>220</span> If ever there was a -sincere “Thank God!” it was the one that filled the poor child’s heart, -but could not pass beyond the happy sobs rising in her throat.</p> - -<p>Jack was frightened. “Have I killed you this time, Gwen?” he asked -faintly.</p> - -<p>Gwen turned back again and caught him in her arms. “Killed me! My -darling old Jack, you have made me feel as though I should never die! I -believe I have been dead all these horrible weeks since New Year’s.”</p> - -<p>“They’re all coming up in a little while to tell you how glad they -are—they’re all down in the back parlor nearly out of their minds, -they’re so glad,” said Jack, much relieved to find Gwen unharmed.</p> - -<p>“Call Hummie, Jack, and then go tell them to come on—I can’t wait,” -said Gwen.</p> - -<p>Before Hummie had recovered from the joy of Gwen’s reprieve -sufficiently to make her fine, as Gwen had intended to be made, the -trooping of the entire family up the stairs fell on her happy ears. She -knelt in the bed in her long crimson wrapper, and held out her arms -speechlessly for a universal embrace.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>221</span> -Sydney, Gladys, and Jan held back, feeling that Gwen’s father and -mother had the first right to her, but Viva and Jerry threw themselves -into the outstretched arms, as Mr. Graham and his wife clasped Gwen at -the same moment. There was a confused scrimmage of hugging and kissing, -and Mr. Graham recognized Gwen’s linen bandage and Jerry’s lace collar, -mixed with Viva’s hair, while Mrs. Graham rained tears and kisses on -her husband’s cuff. But it did not matter. In a moment Gladys and -Jan were added to the joyous confusion, and there was such an utter -abandonment of happiness, and such oblivion to anything but the blessed -fact that Gwen’s precious eyes were safe that Gwen realized for the -first time how dear she was to all these throbbing hearts, and how hard -must have been the past six weeks to them as well as to her, in which -they were bravely trying to keep their own grief out of sight while -they helped her bear her burden.</p> - -<p>“When can I really have my eyes?” asked Gwen, when some of the -excitement had spent itself.</p> - -<p>“You may take off the bandages in a week,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>222</span> but your eyes must be used -with the greatest care, and very little, all summer. Then by fall -Doctor Amberton thinks they will be perfectly strong,” said Mrs. -Graham. “And now, children, go your ways, for Gwen and I are going to -rest quite by ourselves for a little while.”</p> - -<p>Gladys and Jan left the room, arms around each other’s waists, in the -most loving girl fashion, and Mr. Graham followed behind them, smiling, -well pleased at the sight, and remembering how positively Gladys had -declared that she “would not go about with a Wild West Show” when he -had announced Jan’s coming. “Little Miss Lochinvar has won us all,” he -thought, realizing what a happy thing her coming had been for his own -children.</p> - -<p>“I wonder, Jan,” Gladys was saying as they went toward Jan’s room, -“I wonder if mamma wouldn’t let us ask some of our friends for a -celebration on the day Gwen tries her eyes for the first time? She -needn’t see them long enough to get tired, but it would be rather nice -to get together everybody she likes to look at when she looks for the -first time for so long.”</p> - -<p>“It would be ever so nice,” said Jan heartily.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>223</span> “If Aunt Tina will let -us—if she doesn’t think it would hurt Gwen.”</p> - -<p>At the self-same moment Gwen was saying: “Mamma, it is Miss Lochinvar’s -birthday on the 1st of March. Don’t you think I might use my eyes for -the first time on that day, and have a little surprise party for her? I -wouldn’t have to stay in the room longer than was safe, but I’d like to -get the girls together to keep Jan’s birthday properly. She’s done more -for me than you can guess; I couldn’t repay her if I tried forever. -And look at Gladys and Sydney! And how much sweeter Jerry is! And she -hasn’t any more notion of how nice she is than—than——”</p> - -<p>“Than a bright little wild rose along the roadside knows how sweet -and cheering it is,” finished her mother for her, as Gwen hesitated -for a simile. “It is only that she is good, really good, unselfish, -unaffected, sincere. She has done a great deal for us all, Gwen. It is -a curious thing to see how one little girl can diffuse happiness, and -make her sweetness contagious only by unconsciously showing how lovely -such a true little woman can be. I mean to write your Aunt Jennie and -beg her to let Jan go with us<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>224</span> to the seashore this summer and stay on -for another winter in New York; I have a hope of getting her gradually -to make this her home, and her visits to Crescendo.”</p> - -<p>“You won’t succeed, mamma,” said Gwen, shaking her head dolefully. -“I’d give anything in the world to keep Jan every minute of my life, -but she’s too fond of home for that. She truly doesn’t think there’s -anything to do in New York—she said so once, and then was afraid she’d -hurt my feelings. Nothing to do here, but lots that is interesting in -that little Crescendo of hers—only think!” And Gwen laughed.</p> - -<p>“Well, at the worst, her father and mother must let her spend part of -each year with us, now that they have taught us to depend upon her,” -said Mrs. Graham. “However, we need not settle that now. About your -party: Yes, I think it can be done, and I should like to honor Jan by -celebrating her birthday. On the first? That is eight days off. Very -well; we’ll have the party. And now rest, my darling Gwen. You can’t -dream how glad your mother is to know you are to look upon her again so -soon!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>225</span> -“I’m not precisely sorry, mamma,” said Gwen, seizing the hand put -out to her, and returning with interest the kiss given her. What a -beautiful world it was! and how soft and warm was the atmosphere -becoming of the big house which even Gwen had sometimes found chilling!</p> - -<p>Mrs. Graham almost betrayed herself by a laugh as Jan and Gladys -unfolded to her their plan for a surprise party so nearly identical -with Gwen’s, except that they had not fixed a definite date, and had a -different end in view in holding it. But she composed her eyes and lips -to the necessary seriousness, approved their plans as she had Gwen’s, -and set about the preparations for both parties. It is not difficult to -prepare for two parties at the same time when both are practically one. -The pair of conspirators kept their secret from the one conspirator, -and Mrs. Graham conspired with both. The same guests were selected by -both camps, except that Sydney was called in to Gwen’s aid, and asked -the boys and girls with whom Jan had played the tennis match, and whom -his sisters did not know.</p> - -<p>March 1st fell on Saturday—any one who is interested to know can -easily discover from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>226</span> that fact the year in which the party was -given—and that made it easy to get the guests together early, without -regard to school. It was better, for Gwen’s sake, to make it an -afternoon party, “quite like little children,” as Gladys remarked with -a slight tendency to dissatisfaction.</p> - -<p>Viva and Jerry found this a most desirable feature of the celebration; -they were ready in spotless white long before the appointed hour. Too -long before; for Jerry was discovered sitting demurely close to the -butler’s pantry door in the dining-room, very quiet and correct, but -with a long streak of chocolate on each cheek, beyond the reach of -her tongue, which had made the lips stainless, and a great smudge of -chocolate and cream filling on the front of her dainty tucked guimpe, -the cause of which Susan correctly traced to the loss of six little -round chocolate-iced cakes from the pantry.</p> - -<p>When the guests began arriving Jan and Gladys were much puzzled by -being called upon to welcome several whom they had not invited, and -whom they had difficulty in receiving as though they had done so. -But Jan was delighted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>227</span> to see again her opponent who had given her -such a hard fight for victory in the tennis contest, and when she had -sufficiently recovered from her surprise at seeing her hailed Molly Van -Buren rapturously.</p> - -<p>Gwen sent for Jan to come to her when all the guests had arrived, and -Jan ran across the hall to her cousin’s room. She found Gwen dressed in -silvery-blue, looking paler for her long confinement, and at least a -quarter of a head taller—Gwen was decidedly up to the modern standard -of girls’ height.</p> - -<p>“Do you know why mamma asked all these girls and boys here to-day, Miss -Lochinvar?” asked Gwen.</p> - -<p>“I should think I did! Gladys and I planned it as a surprise to -you—it’s to celebrate your recovery!” laughed Jan.</p> - -<p>“It’s nothing of the sort!” cried Gwen. “It’s mamma’s secret and mine, -and it’s to celebrate your birthday.”</p> - -<p>“Were you plotting a party, too? Did you remember it was my birthday?” -cried Jan. “Well, of all things! What a memory you have, Gwen! I -haven’t mentioned my birthday<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>228</span> but once, ever so long ago, when you -asked me when it came. And to think that Aunt Tina never said a word!”</p> - -<p>“Nor to me either,” Gwen laughingly protested. “Mamma must have been -having rather a pleasant time all by herself, fooling all three of us. -Well, it’s all the nicer. Now, what made me send for you was that I -want to give you your first birthday present, and let you take these -linens off my eyes—I believe you’re such an unselfish old darling that -you’d rather do it than have millions left you.”</p> - -<p>Jan’s color went and came; no one had ever known—hardly she -herself—what a grief the prospect of Gwen’s great sorrow had been to -her. And now this little ceremony moved her proportionately. Her hands -trembled as she unfastened the strings holding Gwen’s long eclipse of -her eyes, and the linen bandages slipped down, and were gone—gone, -thank Heaven, forever! “I’m truly glad to see you, blessed Miss -Lochinvar,” said Gwen as she gazed lovingly at the tearful face of her -cousin, the first she had seen for seven dreary weeks. “Come, now; let -me go with you. Steady me,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>229</span> Jan—the light and walking by sight seems -queer to me.”</p> - -<p>Jan steadied Gwen with her arm around her waist, and felt her tremble, -but she knew that it was with joy. Then, with Gwen’s hand resting on -her shoulder, Jan led her triumphantly down to the parlor. All her -school friends clustered around her, and for a few moments Gwen held -court. Then Sydney came into the middle of the room, and said: “Ladies -and gentlemen, this is a surprise party. Gwen is surprised that Gladys -and Jan have a party, and they are surprised that Gwen has one. So you -are the party and they are the surprise—which isn’t the usual way -of having surprise parties. Gladys and Jan’s party is to celebrate -Gwen’s recovery. Gwen’s party is because it is Jan’s birthday. So -you can consider yourself celebrating which you prefer—for myself -I’m celebrating both with all my might. When our cousin came on we -called her ‘Miss Lochinvar,’ because she ‘came out of the West,’ and -now we think we were sort of prophets, because the name fits her in -lots of ways—chiefly because no one ‘e’er heard of gallant like young -Lochinvar.’ There<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>230</span> never was such an all-round trump of a girl as our -cousin Janet Howe, alias Miss Lochinvar. We couldn’t find a picture of -that hero, Jan,” he added, turning to poor Jan, who looked ready to -sink through the floor from embarrassment. “But we wanted to give you a -picture, because you like them so much, and so you could have something -to remember this day by at home if ever you go back—and don’t you dare -to try going! So we got you this copy of Rembrandt’s Polish Rider; it -was the nearest we could come to young Lochinvar.” Sydney then gave -place to Jack, who proudly bore the picture to Jan, remarking briefly: -“Here, Jan. I made the verse.”</p> - -<p>Jan received the large picture timidly, but suddenly she laughed, for -on its wrapping she read this verse of Jack’s:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="verse"> - <div class="line">Jan:</div> - <div class="line">From Ivan</div> - <div class="line">And the Clan.</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>Gwen’s gift was a small, but exquisite, old Italian lamp. “Because you -were my light in darkness,” she whispered, and Jan choked.</p> - -<p>Gladys had characteristically chosen a ring,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>231</span> a slender circle of -turquoise, for her gift. “I want you to wear something to remind you of -me every minute,” she said.</p> - -<p>Viva and Jerry had been included with Jack in the gift of the picture, -but Mrs. Graham gave Jan all the Waverley novels, bound in soft -morocco, and her uncle’s gift was a check for fifty dollars, to do with -as she pleased, and which Jan looked at with wildly joyous visions of -what it would purchase for the young folk in Crescendo.</p> - -<p>Gwen tired soon, and went away for a while to rest before supper while -the others had games and dancing. She reappeared for a short time to -take her place beside Jan at the head of the table, and be waited on -like one of a pair of queen bees, plied with honey, instead of waiting -on her guests, as she would have done at any ordinary party.</p> - -<p>But, as the guests agreed when they departed early, it was not an -ordinary party in any sense, and Jan convulsed her hearers by declaring -that it was nicer—more like a Crescendo party—than any she had seen -in New York. “But,” she added, gloating over her treasures, “it would -be queer if I hadn’t thought it nice.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>232</span> -Mrs. Graham, remembering the magnitude of her orders at expensive -caterers, smiled to herself at the notion of Jan’s birthday party -and Gwen’s “thanksgiving party,” as Sydney called it, resembling the -gaieties of Crescendo. But she understood that Jan had meant that it -was more simple and childish than the early-old functions which she had -seen since her arrival, and was well pleased.</p> - -<p>“You’re all so good to me!” sighed Jan, as she kissed her uncle and -aunt good night, with an extra hug for gratitude. “I can’t ever thank -you!”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw! It’s all because we never saw ‘gallant like young Lochinvar,’” -said Sydney, who was standing by.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>233</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="xvii">CHAPTER XVII<br /> -<span>“THERE WAS MOUNTING ’MONG GRAEMES OF THE NETHERBY CLAN”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Graham family was at breakfast, the same group assembled—with -the addition of Jan herself—as on that morning nearly half a year -before when Mr. Graham had struck consternation to it, individually and -collectively, by announcing Jan’s coming.</p> - -<p>Susan no longer stood behind Jerry’s chair, for she no longer -misbehaved sufficiently to require special watchfulness, so Susan -supplemented the waitress in small tasks, and now brought in the mail -and laid it at Mr. Graham’s place.</p> - -<p>Mr. Graham sorted it, handed three or four notes to his wife, gave -Sydney a notice from his school-club secretary, handed Jack the paper -with the adventure serial he was pursuing rather than perusing, smiled -as he gave Gladys<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>234</span> a pink envelope suggestive of heliotrope and -addressed in a girl’s hand, and kept several letters for himself.</p> - -<p>One of these he read with a lengthening face, and, when his eyes had -traveled down to the foot of the last page, looked over at Jan so -gravely that her heart gave an apprehensive bound, and Gwen exclaimed: -“There’s nothing wrong, is there, papa?”</p> - -<p>“No—at least, yes, I think there is.—Nothing wrong at your home, Jan, -so don’t look so startled, child,” said Mr. Graham, smiling at Jan, who -was waiting his answer with wide, frightened eyes. “Your mother has not -been well, but she’s recovered now; this letter is from your father.”</p> - -<p>“Mamma ill? What was it? Do you suppose she really is well again, Uncle -Howard? What does papa say?” cried Jan.</p> - -<p>“He says—let me see. ‘Tell Jan not to feel the slightest anxiety; I am -not concealing anything from her; her mother is quite herself again, -except for a remnant of weakness. But—’ and the rest is what I do not -like to tell you, and still less to tell my own children.”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>235</span> And Mr. -Graham stopped, frowning hard at Jan.</p> - -<p>“He wants Jan!” guessed Gwen, jumping at the thing she most dreaded.</p> - -<p>“That’s precisely what he does want,” assented her father. “He says it -is now April, and the brief time left in school will not be serious -loss, and Jan’s mother is so hungry for a glimpse of her that he wants -us to send her back to Crescendo. He doesn’t say what he expects us to -do without her.”</p> - -<p>A dead silence fell on the entire table. Gwen and Gladys stared aghast, -Viva turned crimson and began to cry soundlessly, while Jack looked as -though he would like to follow her example. Sydney and his mother both -pushed back their plates with a simultaneous movement, and Jan herself -seemed uncertain whether to be glad or sorry.</p> - -<p>Jerry looked from one to the other; then suddenly her voice pierced the -stillness shrilly: “She’s my Jan, she’s my Jan! She san’t go away f’ -ever’ n’ ever, amen,” she fairly shrieked, and was borne from the room -in a violent fit of coughing by the patient Susan.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>236</span> -“We can’t express our feelings in precisely the same way as Jerry,” -said Mrs. Graham, “but they are quite as much ours. You are our Jan, -and we really can not let you go.”</p> - -<p>“O Jan! you won’t go, will you?” said Gladys reproachfully.</p> - -<p>“If mamma wants me, and papa says to come, how can I help going?” asked -Jan.</p> - -<p>“I suppose we must admit their claim,” said her uncle. “I’ll tell you -what I’ll do. I’ll write Jan’s father, begging him to spare her a -little while longer, and telling him how dear she is to each of us. If -he is hard-hearted enough to take her in spite of that, we’ll have to -send her to him, with a nice, strong little cable attached, to pull her -back by in a short time.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think we ought to let mamma wait while we write papa, and he -answers. That will take nearly a week, and if he says mamma has been -sick and wants me, I think I ought to go right away, don’t you?” asked -Jan.</p> - -<p>“O Miss Lochinvar! You want to go?” said Sydney reproachfully.</p> - -<p>“I want to go and stay at the same time,” said Jan truthfully. “I am -just as happy here<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>237</span> as I can be, and I love you heaps and heaps, and -when I get back I’ll talk about every one of you until they’ll think -I can’t speak of anything else. But when I think of mamma—and all of -them—why I could fly! You know how you’d feel if you hadn’t seen any -of this family for six months.”</p> - -<p>“There are such quantities of things to do,” said Gwen, speaking for -the first time, though there was no one else to whom the loss of -Miss Lochinvar meant so much as to her. “You haven’t been down to -Trinity nor to St. Paul’s—and you like places where great people are -buried. You’re so crazy about history you must at least see Alexander -Hamilton’s grave—and the Jumel house.”</p> - -<p>“That wouldn’t take long; besides New York will be here when she -returns, for I would put her in the safe-deposit vaults and lock her -up, if I didn’t think she would come back in the fall,” said her uncle. -“Then you would rather not have me write, asking an extension of -time—a stay of proceedings, little Miss Lochinvar?”</p> - -<p>“I think when papa says he wants me, and mamma is longing for me, it -means just that,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>238</span> and it would not be right to keep them waiting,” said -Jan, wishing she were not obliged to choose.</p> - -<p>“It’s a shame, a shame!” cried Jack, emotion, so long suppressed, so -far mastering him that two tears would find their way out, though he -tried to hope that they would be mistaken for coffee.</p> - -<p>“Well, Jack, here’s a chance to be noble. There are people who would -rather another had a treasure than possess it themselves,” smiled Mrs. -Graham.</p> - -<p>“That’s goody-goody people!” said Jack wrathfully, not in a frame of -mind to admire virtue utterly beyond his reach.</p> - -<p>“They’re better than baddy-baddy people at least,” said Gwen. “If Jan -must go, let’s not make it worse.—When would she have to start, papa?”</p> - -<p>“Her father doesn’t say. I think we are entitled to a little time in -which to get used to the amputation,” said Mr. Graham. “I won’t let her -go under a week.”</p> - -<p>“Then we’ll make it a lively week,” said Gwen with a quiver in her -voice indicating no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>239</span> especial liveliness in the speaker. Mrs. Graham -pushed back her chair, and the children all rose; there had been no -more thought of breakfast since the dreadful tidings had fallen upon -them that they were to lose Jan.</p> - -<p>It was the week of the Easter holidays, so there was nothing to -prevent her cousins from devoting themselves to Jan for the short time -remaining.</p> - -<p>The three girls retired to Jan’s room to have a cry and feel better, -though that was not consciously the object of the tears. Tommy Traddles -came stretching and purring to meet them, and Jan caught him to her -heart.</p> - -<p>“O my poor, dear Tommy Traddles!” she cried. “He has got so handsome, -and strong, and loving! And he does play hide and seek so beautifully -with me. Will you promise to take just as good care of him as I do, -Gwen and Gladys? And will you swear—honest, true, black and blue—not -to let him get left behind to starve in the streets when you go to the -country?”</p> - -<p>“Now, Jan, if you suppose we’d be the sort of people to turn an animal -out! Of all the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>240</span> mean, selfish things to do! It makes me furious to -see the poor creatures who are used to being petted wandering around -frightened, sick, and hungry! I don’t see why you ask us such a -thing as that! We don’t have to swear it,” said Gwen, with genuine -indignation.</p> - -<p>“Well, I beg your pardon. I know you wouldn’t, but so many people are -careless,” said Jan contritely. “Syd will look after Drom. And now I’m -going to pack.”</p> - -<p>“If you touch one thing I’ll go crazy!” exclaimed Gladys energetically. -“I could not stand it! I won’t believe you’re going. Get on your things -and come down to your stuffy historical graves, but don’t you pack! You -haven’t the least, dimmest idea of how Gwen and I feel—you don’t care -one bit for leaving us!”</p> - -<p>Jan turned and flung her arms around Gwen and Gladys with a face as -variable as the month, all smiles and tears. “O my dears, my dears! -Yes, I do!” she cried. “I wish I were twins! Can’t you understand how -glad I’ll be to see dear old Crescendo and my precious family, and yet -how I want, and want, and want you? I’d like to go and stay at the same -time.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>241</span> -“And we only want you to stay, you see,” said Gwen, trying to smile. -“It’s almost like losing my eyes over again, Janet Lochinvar! You have -been such a dear old darling, and done so much for me!”</p> - -<p>“Not as much as for me,” said Gladys mournfully. “I’m another girl.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind if you are, Gladys; you’re nicer all the time,” said Jan. -“So try to bear up.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll go down and see St. Paul’s, and then we’ll go to Trinity,” -announced Gladys, rising with the air of one ready to sacrifice herself -for the public weal. “And we’ll rally around you every minute that’s -left.”</p> - -<p>“Syd, Jack, will you go with us down in town to explore mustiness for -Jan?” called Gwen up the stairs. And the boys threw themselves on the -banisters, and slid down promptly, ready for any expedition.</p> - -<p>Jan stood, awe-struck, beside the tomb where Alexander Hamilton -was laid to sleep after his tragic end, and where now the hurrying -thousands of the modern city surge up the narrow, steep street skirting -his resting-place in the pursuit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>242</span> of a little of the success he sought, -attained, and which slipped through his fingers at last.</p> - -<p>Still more was she thrilled by the old-time pew in St. Paul’s where -Washington sat praying in his strong heart for the nation struggling -into life. Gwen shared her enthusiasm, and Sydney understood, though he -pretended to laugh at it. But Gladys declared she could not see what -there was to get excited about. Suppose Washington <em>had</em> sat in -that pew, what then? He was a real man, who really lived; he had to -sit somewhere. If it hadn’t been there, it would have been somewhere -else—what was there to make a fuss about? Gladys’s prosaic mind, which -had not a grain of the poet’s nor the student’s element in its make-up, -tolerated, but could not share her cousin’s raptures.</p> - -<p>The Graham quartet dutifully escorted Jan up to the Jumel house, and -up to Columbia Library, and to see the tablet commemorating the battle -of Harlem Heights, but in turn they demanded of her less improving, -and more amusing pilgrimages. They took her down to Manhattan Beach to -see the ocean for the first time, and Miss Lochinvar had to admit that -nothing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>243</span> in the West could equal that stupendous first sight of the -breakers rolling in from England, and tumbling at her feet—though she -retracted the admission with a possible reservation in favor of the -Yellowstone, which she had not seen. And at last there were no more -expeditions, but three days of absolute devotion to one another, in -which Jan packed, while the others watched her rearrange her treasures, -and tried to keep up the cheerfulness which they had agreed must speed -their parting guest, though it was a cheerfulness veiled in deep purple.</p> - -<p>Jan had to have a large new trunk to supplement the shabby little one -with which she arrived, for many and marvelous were the contributions -the Grahams poured into Jan’s hands to take to the children in -Crescendo.</p> - -<p>All the girls—and most of the boys—whom Jan had known since her -arrival came often to see her, for to the surprise, not only of herself -but her cousins, who did not realize that outsiders had felt modest -Janet’s charm, Miss Lochinvar seemed to have won everybody’s affection. -“Come and see me in Crescendo,” she said to them all with boundless -hospitality,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>244</span> and Gladys felt no dismay at the thought that they might -take her at her word; so thoroughly had she learned true values.</p> - -<p>Gwen and Gladys grudged a moment spent on visitors; the moments were -growing so few in which they should see Jan’s pretty face, and watch it -cloud at the thought of parting or break into dimples over something -pleasant. Even Cena North and Dorothy Schuyler were in the way, though -the latter was the one to whom Gwen looked for consolation when she -should be bereft of Jan.</p> - -<p>At last the night came when for the last time Jan should lie down in -her pretty room, and all the cousins hung around her till the latest -possible moment—even Jerry being allowed to sit up until she fell -asleep in Jan’s lap.</p> - -<p>“We’ll keep a diary and send it to each other twice a week—that’s -settled,” said Gwen. “And I want to tell you one thing, Jan. I know now -I was a silly to think North & Company would publish my novel, and I -was a greater silly to think I could write a novel, and the greatest -silly of all to think that it was nicer to be famous than a lovely, -homely girl. If you like to know<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>245</span> that you turned your cousin from a -goose into a girl with a grain of sense, you may have that pleasure.”</p> - -<p>“And here’s another,” said Gladys. “You know I’m not quite as bad a -goose as I was, and it’s all your doing.”</p> - -<p>Sydney said nothing then, but when, later, Jan went up to say good -night to Drom, he put out his hand. “I may not get a chance to tell -you to-morrow when they’re all around,” he said, “but I’m getting on -better at school—working better and all that—and I don’t see much of -the wild boys, and I’m getting on fine working with the professor up at -college. And father says I may take up civil engineering if I like, so -I guess I’ll go to college after all. And if you hadn’t come and made -things pleasant here I don’t believe I’d have been anywhere. I thought -you might like to know.”</p> - -<p>“It’s all because you are so good to me that you fancy I’ve done -things. I never did a thing, but just be a humdrum, every-day little -girl,” said Jan.</p> - -<p>“Nothing but be Janet Howe—Miss Lochinvar,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>246</span> I mean; we know,” said -Sydney. And Jan ran down-stairs to cry a little and laugh a little that -on the morrow she was to set out for Crescendo, and to be glad and -grateful that the clan of Graham rated her so inexplicably high.</p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>247</span> -</div> - - -<h2 id="xviii">CHAPTER XVIII<br /> -<span>“WITH A SMILE ON HER LIPS AND A TEAR IN HER EYE”</span></h2> - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> household was early astir on the following morning, although Miss -Lochinvar was not to go into the West until early in the afternoon—not -to start, that is.</p> - -<p>But it was a pity to waste time sleeping, when, as Gladys pathetically -said, Jan would have time enough to sleep on the cars when she was all -alone.</p> - -<p>The cook—who was usually as grumpy as her profession seems liable to -make people—outdid herself in her efforts to get up a luncheon-box for -Miss Jan which should lighten her journey and weighten—now isn’t it a -shame there is not such a fine verb as that?—her own slender frame. -Susan was clipping the stems of the flowers she had gone out early to -buy and putting them between damp cotton on the ice in the butler’s -pantry. There seemed to be no one,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>248</span> from the top to the bottom of the -big house, which had struck Jan on her entrance to it as so cold and -empty, who was not eager to show regret at losing, and desire to serve -Miss Lochinvar.</p> - -<p>Gwen and Gladys had begged Jan to bring her things into Gwen’s room, -and let them all dress together, not to lose one moment of the precious -few left them. And it was with no small difficulty that Jan managed her -toilet, for one cousin insisted on buttoning her shoes, while the other -brushed her hair; Gwen tied her ribbon, while Gladys fastened down her -collar in the back, and she was so inundated with tender services, -interspersed with sighs and caresses that she—not being accustomed -to a maid—began to wonder if she should be ready, not merely for -breakfast, but for the train at somewhere about two in the afternoon.</p> - -<p>Viva, the unobtrusive, insisted on her right, as the elder, to take the -place beside Jan at breakfast for which Jerry was clamoring, and Jack -made himself detestable to both his small sisters by appropriating it -for himself while they were disputing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>249</span> -The three girls came down like a group of the graces, Jan in the -middle, supported by tall Gwen on one side and Gladys on the other, -each with an arm around Miss Lochinvar, who encircled them with hers.</p> - -<p>Sydney, who did not approve of sentimental affection, though he was -quite as sorry to part with Jan as his sisters could be, laughed as -they entered. “Hang on to one another, girls!” he said. “If you hug Jan -tight enough maybe the train won’t start till three.”</p> - -<p>No one had much appetite that morning—no one but Mr. and Mrs. Graham, -who ate their breakfast with what Viva found almost heartless calmness. -She was not able to conceive of a state of mind in which departures -mean the possibility of return, nor had she journeyed far enough into -life to learn that “journeys end,” not only “in lovers’ meeting,” but -in all kinds of pleasant meetings. Jan’s uncle and aunt were confident -that she would return to them soon, but to the younger folk the -parting seemed eternal, the distance between New York and Crescendo an -impassable gulf, and even the recollection of what and whom awaited her -at the end<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>250</span> of her travels could not sustain Jan’s spirits under the -present gloom.</p> - -<p>“I’ll be down to the station, Miss Lochinvar, and start you properly -with the conductor of the train and of the sleeping-car, and with the -porter,” said Jan’s uncle, putting out his hand for a brief farewell. -“I’ve got you a whole section, so you won’t have any one dropping down -on you to-night through the ceiling of your berth, and there’ll be no -one sitting opposite to you through the day. Don’t forget that both -seats are yours, and don’t let any one bother you, by the way. However, -I’ll fix that with the proper authorities.—Get down to the train a -little early, Tina, and see that Jan’s trunks are checked, if I’m a -trifle late—it’s a bad hour to leave Exchange, just before closing, -but I’ll be there. Don’t look so melancholy, chicks; we couldn’t have -the fun of getting Jan back, if we never let her go.” And Mr. Graham -was off, wondering if he had ever taken small events so ponderously.</p> - -<p>“Now, Aunt Tina, when are you all coming out to see us?” asked Jan, -as the family, excepting only its head, gathered in the library with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>251</span> -that tentative feeling of waiting one has when some one is going away, -although it is hours before the time to start.</p> - -<p>“All of us? At once?” laughed her aunt. “Never, I hope, for your -mother’s sake.”</p> - -<p>“Well, when will you let the children come? I want them all—first, the -three oldest, if you won’t send them all at once, and then Jack and -Viva. Still, it would be much better if you let them come with Syd and -Gwen and Gladys to look after them,” Jan persisted.</p> - -<p>“I hardly see how we can arrange the details of their coming just now,” -Mrs. Graham said, smiling at Jan’s earnestness. “You see we are all -disposed of for the next five months at the seashore—and I can not -cease to regret that you could not have at least one week there with -us, for the New England coast is so glorious that you would not feel -that you had seen the sea at Manhattan Beach if you could get a glimpse -of it tumbling in over those piled-up rocks. However, next summer, I -hope, you will. Then after this summer comes school again, and Sydney -will enter college if he keeps up his present pace.” And his mother -smiled proudly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>252</span> at the handsome boy for whom in her secret heart there -was an especial soft spot. “I think the most probable thing is that you -will return to us. It would be very nice if you could come back in the -fall, and if in the summer your mother and one or two of the younger -children could join us. I don’t see much prospect of any of us going -West, Janet, for after Gwen and Gladys are a little further on in their -studies they must go to Europe to learn to see art properly, and to -learn something of other peoples than their own. But we can not plan; -we might be able to make a flying trip with the older children to the -Yellowstone, and stop at Crescendo. There’s no way of being sure of the -future, impatient Miss Lochinvar! If you girls are going to call on the -Misses Larned and Dorothy and Cena before luncheon you would better be -about it, for we must lunch at quarter after twelve to-day. There is -the transfer-wagon at the door, and I hear the man bringing down your -trunk, Jan.”</p> - -<p>Gwen and Gladys mournfully accompanied Jan on her farewell visit to her -teachers, who parted from her with a glimmer of genuine regret<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>253</span> showing -through their elaborate expressions of their sense of loss.</p> - -<p>“It has been a great pleasure to teach you, Miss Howe,” said Miss -Larned. “You are faithful to your tasks, docile, and amiable. I trust -that the autumn will bring you back to us.”</p> - -<p>“We wouldn’t be able to bear letting her go if we thought it wouldn’t, -Miss Larned,” said Gwen.</p> - -<p>Dorothy Schuyler and Cena North clung to Jan in precisely the same -manner, though both assured her that they should be at the station to -see her off. Jan only wrenched herself away by dwelling on that fact, -and by promises to write very, very often.</p> - -<p>Sydney met the three distressed girls at the door, as they returned to -luncheon. “Hallo, bluing-bags!” he cheerfully saluted. “They won’t have -to begin watering Fifth Avenue for two or three days yet, will they?”</p> - -<p>“It wouldn’t be so bad to let you go if I could use my eyes to write -you often,” said Gwen, as they mounted the stairs. “But when I think -how lonely I’ll be, and how I can’t write, probably<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>254</span> more than two or -three times a week, I can not see how I shall get on.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll write you, and we’ll send that daily journal, and you’ll have -Gladys,” said Jan cheerily.</p> - -<p>Gladys shook her head. “I shall only make it worse,” she said. “She’ll -see a girl around, and it will remind her of you fearfully. Like that -man in our Grecian mythology lesson—what’s his name?—who stood deep -in water, and when he put his head down to drink it all slipped away, -though he was nearly crazy with thirst.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, gracious, Gladys! What nonsense! As though Gwen cared as much -for me as for you—her own sister!” cried Jan. “You’ve all been -getting so well acquainted this winter that you won’t miss me at all, -except at first. And you and Gwen enjoy each other fifty times more -than you did.” And Jan pinched Gwen’s arm to remind her to indorse -these statements, for they had agreed privately that Gladys needed -encouragement in her efforts to be more sensible, and also that she -needed affection to draw out her better side.</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s so, Glad,” said Gwen promptly.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>255</span> “What with my being sick -and in danger of being blind, and most of all with our having blessed -Miss Lochinvar here to bring us all together, we are a much nicer -family than we were, and I sha’n’t miss Jan anything like as much as -I should if we weren’t getting to be really sisters. And I hope I’ll -help you not to be lonely. And, Jan, I mean to do just what you say -with Viva and Jack and Syd—especially Syd—and with Jerry, too, though -she doesn’t count so much yet. I mean to be nice to them, and get them -to love me and tell me things, and I see what you mean about its being -better to have them than to have fame—though I can’t help hoping I’ll -do something fine in the world yet.”</p> - -<p>“I’m certain sure you will; you can’t help it with all your talents,” -said Jan with the profound conviction so precious to an aspiring but -undeveloped genius.</p> - -<p>“Maybe I can learn to teach the children to like me too,” said Gladys -with new and most becoming modesty, though not with the clearest form -of expression.</p> - -<p>After luncheon, eaten hastily and with a certainty of being late for -her train on the part of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>256</span> the departing one, the Grahams’ landau drove -up to the door. Jan had arrived without other escort than Nurse Hummel, -but there was no question of Miss Lochinvar’s going away in like -manner. There was not one of the Grahams—not even Sydney—who did not -stand on the right to see Jan off. Sydney climbed up on the box with -Henry, and they took Jack between them. Mrs. Graham sat on the back -seat, with Jerry on her knee; Gladys, Jan, and Viva were to ride on the -front seat, with Gwen beside her mother.</p> - -<p>“Come, girls!” called Mrs. Graham, consulting her watch. “Viva, get -out again and tell the girls to come.” Viva ran up the steps and -encountered Jan in the hall, held fast in Nurse Hummel’s capacious -embrace. Norah and Susan, Hannah the cook, and Maggie the laundress -were waiting a chance to shake Miss Lochinvar’s hand and wish her -Godspeed.</p> - -<p>“May der lieber Gott keep you and pring you back quick und safe, -liebchen!” cried Hummie. “I haf not a little girl so goot und -useful among der Americans seen as you. I vish I might shake your -highly-to-be-respected mutter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>257</span> by der hant, und say to her how much -she is lucky to haf you.” And Nurse Hummel reluctantly gave up Jan and -ceased her eloquence, as badly Germanized as usual under emotion, as -Viva cried out that her mother wanted Jan to come at once.</p> - -<p>“Good-by, Miss Janet; good luck to you!” said the other servants -heartily, shaking the firm, warm hand Jan extended. Then with one -parting squeeze for Drom, who implored, with eyes that seemed to see -that Jan was leaving him altogether, to be taken, too, and a kiss on -the glossy head of Tommy Traddles, whom Susan obligingly held, and -who was highly disturbed by the excitement around him, Jan ran down -the long steps which she had ascended for the first time with such -different feelings. Now she could hardly see them for the tears in her -eyes that she should see them no more.</p> - -<p>Tucked tightly in her third of the seat with Gladys and Viva, Jan -looked up at the big house as Henry started away from it. It looked -just as impassive and irresponsive as on the day when she saw it first, -but she loved it, for within its walls she had found love.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>258</span> -“Don’t eye the house so gloomily, Jan, dear,” said Mrs. Graham. “It is -only waiting for you to come back, and it will not wait long, I hope.”</p> - -<p>At the station they found Dorothy Schuyler and Cena North there before -them, laden with flowers and candy, and a book apiece. Gwen and Gladys -had provided Jan with a book, Sydney and Jack had given her candy and -magazines, and flowers already filled her hands. They could not help -laughing as they saw Dorothy and Cena’s contributions, for Jan could -not have eaten and read on her journey all the food for body and mind -with which she was encumbered if she had been going across the ocean -on one of the slow Atlantic transports. Mr. Graham arrived just as his -wife came back from checking Jan’s trunks; he, too, carried a box of -candy, and stopped dismayed as he saw the supply already in Jan’s hands.</p> - -<p>“Dear me, Janet; I wish I had brought you a box of pepsin tablets, -instead of more sweets! Pray don’t eat all this candy—bestow it on the -crying baby you’re certain to find on the train—it’s always there,” he -said. “Now, we will all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>259</span> go over on the ferry with Miss Lochinvar, -put her snugly in her section, and then sing: ‘Hurrah for the wild -and woolly!’” The smiles that met this effort at cheerfulness on Mr. -Graham’s part were feeble. The escort got into motion, and passed out -on the upper deck of the big ferry-boat, all trying to keep next Jan, -who could not have accommodated them all if she had had more sides than -an octagon.</p> - -<div class="figcenter width500" id="thelast"> - <img src="images/i284-2.jpg" width="500" height="704" alt="" /> - <div class="caption">The last glimpse of Jan.</div> -</div> - -<p>Mr. Graham and Sydney stowed away her bag and parcels in the rack. -Sydney suggested that they put up a sign, “Fresh every hour,” for -the parcels were so preponderatingly representative of a famous -confectioner.</p> - -<p>“Good-by, Jan. Write every week at least,” cried Dorothy and Cena, -recognizing that Jan’s family had a claim to the last embraces.</p> - -<p>“Good-by, dear little Janet. Tell Jennie to send you back by September -if she doesn’t want me to go out and get you,” said Jan’s uncle, -kissing her warmly.</p> - -<p>“That wouldn’t scare her,” sobbed Jan, clinging to him.</p> - -<p>“Good-by, dear. Tell your mother that I feel as though I had lost -one of the dearest of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>260</span> my own children,” said Aunt Tina, no longer -indifferent, but with something suspiciously like a sob in her voice.</p> - -<p>“So long, Miss Lochinvar. I wish I were going with you,” said Sydney, -clasping both Jan’s hands tight with sixteen-year-old sensitiveness to -kissing his cousin publicly.</p> - -<p>But Jan threw both arms around his neck, and kissed him many times, -quite speechless with emotion, and Sydney did not find it unpleasant to -have her love for him thus proved.</p> - -<p>Jack gave Jan a fierce farewell hug, which she warmly returned.</p> - -<p>Viva and Jerry were hanging on Jan’s neck as the others bade her -good-by, and Mr. Graham had to detach them violently and bear them away -under the inducement of waving their hands to her through the window.</p> - -<p>Gladys kissed Jan good-by, sobbing with all her might. “Please, please -forgive me all over again, dear, dearest Jan,” she whispered.</p> - -<p>Gwen came last of all, and to her Jan clung most fondly, realizing then -that of all the cousins she was leaving, this one was the dearest.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad I had you, Miss Lochinvar,” whispered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>261</span> Gwen, feeling that -this name was the only one with which she could part from Jan.</p> - -<p>Jan did not speak, but the kiss with which she said good-by to -noble-hearted Gwen told her how much Miss Lochinvar loved her.</p> - -<p>The Grahams drew up in line outside the window, wiping away tears with -one hand as they waved the other, and made futile efforts to speak to -Jan through the double glass.</p> - -<p>At last the wheels moved, the train got into motion, and rolled slowly -out of the station.</p> - -<p>Jan knelt on the seat, and pressed her wet face against the glass, -crying, though they whom she was leaving behind could not hear her, -“Good-by, good-by!”</p> - -<p>The last glimpse they had of Jan was a rainbow one, tears running down -her cheeks, while her lips smiled at them. And they turned away toward -the ferry feeling that a big piece of the heart of each of them had -gone with sweet little Miss Lochinvar back into the West.</p> - - -<p class="center mt3">THE END</p> - - -<div class="section"> -<hr class="divider x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="tn"> -<p class="center">Transcriber’s Note:</p> - -<p class="noi">The text has been preserved as closely as possible to the original -publication with no known changes to spelling or punctuation.</p> - -<p class="noi">The cover includes elements created by the transcriber -which have been placed in the public domain.</p> -</div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MISS LOCHINVAR ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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