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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Years, by Eleanor H. Porter
+#9 in our series by Eleanor H. Porter
+
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+Title: Across the Years
+
+Author: Eleanor H. Porter
+
+Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6991]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on February 20, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: Latin-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE YEARS ***
+
+
+
+
+This eBook produced by Curtis A. Weyant, Charles Franks,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+ACROSS THE YEARS
+
+BY
+
+ELEANOR H. PORTER
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+
+WHEN FATHER AND MOTHER REBELLED
+JUPITER ANN
+THE AXMINSTER PATH
+PHINEAS AND THE MOTOR CAR
+THE MOST WONDERFUL WOMAN
+THE PRICE OF A PAIR OF SHOES
+THE LONG ROAD
+A COUPLE OF CAPITALISTS
+IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF KATY
+THE BRIDGE ACROSS THE YEARS
+FOR JIMMY
+A SUMMONS HOME
+THE BLACK SILK GOWNS
+A BELATED HONEYMOON
+WHEN AUNT ABBY WAKED UP
+WRISTERS FOR THREE
+THE GIVING THANKS OF CYRUS AND HULDAH
+A NEW ENGLAND IDOL
+
+
+
+The stories in this volume are here reprinted by the courteous
+permission of the publishers of the periodicals in which they first
+appeared,--The Ladies' Home Journal, Ainslee's Magazine, The Scrap
+Book, The New England Magazine, The Pictorial Review, The Housewife,
+The Pacific Monthly, The Arena, Lippincott's Magazine, Harper's Bazar,
+The Century Magazine, Woman, Holland's Magazine, The Designer.
+
+
+
+
+When Father and Mother Rebelled
+
+
+
+"'Tain't more 'n a month ter Christmas, Lyddy Ann; did ye know it?" said
+the old man, settling back in his chair with a curiously resigned sigh.
+
+"Yes, I know, Samuel," returned his wife, sending a swift glance over
+the top of her glasses.
+
+If Samuel Bertram noticed the glance he made no sign. "Hm!" he murmured.
+"I've got ten neckerchiefs now. How many crocheted bed-slippers you
+got?--eh?"
+
+"Oh, Samuel!" remonstrated Lydia Ann feebly.
+
+"I don't care," asserted Samuel with sudden vehemence, sitting erect in
+his chair. "Seems as if we might get somethin' for Christmas 'sides
+slippers an' neckerchiefs. Jest 'cause we ain't so young as we once was
+ain't no sign that we've lost all our faculty for enj'yment!"
+
+"But, Samuel, they're good an' kind, an' want ter give us somethin',"
+faltered Lydia Ann; "and--"
+
+"Yes, I know they're good an' kind," cut in Samuel wrathfully. "We've
+got three children, an' each one brings us a Christmas present ev'ry
+year. They've got so they do it reg'lar now, jest the same as they--they
+go ter bed ev'ry night," he finished, groping a little for his simile.
+"An' they put jest about as much thought into it, too," he added grimly.
+
+"My grief an' conscience, Samuel,--how can you talk so!" gasped the
+little woman opposite.
+
+"Well, they do," persisted Samuel. "They buy a pair o' slippers an' a
+neckerchief, an' tuck 'em into their bag for us--an' that's done; an'
+next year they do the same--an' it's done again. Oh, I know I'm
+ongrateful, an' all that," acknowledged Samuel testily, "but I can't
+help it. I've been jest ready to bile over ever since last Christmas,
+an' now I have biled over. Look a-here, Lyddy Ann, we ain't so awful
+old. You're seventy-three an' I'm seventy-six, an' we're pert as
+sparrers, both of us. Don't we live here by ourselves, an' do most all
+the work inside an' outside the house?"
+
+"Yes," nodded Lydia Ann timidly.
+
+"Well, ain't there somethin' you can think of sides slippers you'd like
+for Christmas--'specially as you never wear crocheted bed-slippers?"
+
+Lydia Ann stirred uneasily. "Why, of course, Samuel," she began
+hesitatingly, "bed-slippers are very nice, an'--"
+
+"So's codfish!" interrupted Samuel in open scorn. "Come," he coaxed,
+"jest supposin' we was youngsters again, a-tellin' Santa Claus what we
+wanted. What would you ask for?"
+
+Lydia Ann laughed. Her cheeks grew pink, and the lost spirit of her
+youth sent a sudden sparkle to her eyes. "You'd laugh, dearie. I ain't
+a-goin' ter tell."
+
+"I won't--'pon honor!"
+
+"But it's so silly," faltered Lydia Ann, her cheeks a deeper pink. "Me--
+an old woman!"
+
+"Of course," agreed Samuel promptly. "It's bound ter be silly, ye know,
+if we want anythin' but slippers an' neckerchiefs," he added with a
+chuckle. "Come--out with it, Lyddy Ann."
+
+"It's--it's a tree."
+
+"Dampers and doughnuts!" ejaculated Samuel, his jaw dropping. "A tree!"
+
+"There, I knew you'd laugh," quavered Lydia Ann, catching up her
+knitting.
+
+"Laugh? Not a bit of it!" averred Samuel stoutly. "I--I want a tree
+myself!"
+
+"Ye see, it's just this," apologized Lydia Ann feverishly. "They give us
+things, of course, but they never make anythin' of doin' it, not even
+ter tyin' 'em up with a piece of red ribbon. They just slip into our
+bedroom an' leave 'em all done up in brown paper an' we find 'em after
+they're gone. They mean it all kind, but I'm so tired of gray worsted
+and sensible things. Of course I can't have a tree, an' I don't suppose
+I really want it; but I'd like somethin' all pretty an' sparkly an'--an'
+silly, you know. An' there's another thing I want--ice cream. An' I want
+to make myself sick eatin' it, too,--if I want to; an' I want little
+pink-an'-white sugar pep'mints hung in bags. Samuel, can't you see how
+pretty a bag o' pink pep'mints 'd be on that green tree? An'--dearie
+me!" broke off the little old woman breathlessly, falling back in her
+chair. "How I'm runnin' on! I reckon I <i>am</i> in my dotage."
+
+For a moment Samuel did not reply. His brow was puckered into a
+prodigious frown, and his right hand had sought the back of his head--as
+was always the case when in deep thought. Suddenly his face cleared.
+
+"Ye ain't in yer dotage--by gum, ye ain't!" he cried excitedly. "An' I
+ain't, neither. An' what's more, you're a-goin' ter have that tree--ice
+cream, pink pep'mints, an' all!"
+
+"Oh, my grief an' conscience--Samuel!" quavered Lydia Ann.
+
+"Well, ye be. We can do it easy, too. We'll have it the night 'fore
+Christmas. The children don't get here until Christmas day, ever, ye
+know, so 't won't interfere a mite with their visit, an' 'twill be all
+over 'fore they get here. An' we'll make a party of it, too," went on
+Samuel gleefully. "There's the Hopkinses an' old Mis' Newcomb, an' Uncle
+Tim, an' Grandpa Gowin'--they'll all come an' be glad to."
+
+"Samuel, could we?" cried Lydia Ann, incredulous but joyous. "Could we,
+really?"
+
+"I'll get the tree myself," murmured Samuel, aloud, "an' we can buy some
+o' that shiny stuff up ter the store ter trim it."
+
+"An' I'll get some of that pink-an'-white tarl'tan for bags," chimed in
+Lydia Ann happily: "the pink for the white pep'mints, an' the white for
+the pink. Samuel, won't it be fun?" And to hear her one would have
+thought her seventeen instead of seventy-three.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A week before Christmas Samuel Bertram's only daughter, Ella, wrote this
+letter to each of her brothers:
+
+It has occurred to me that it might be an excellent idea if we would
+plan to spend a little more time this year with Father and Mother when
+we go for our usual Christmas visit; and what kind of a scheme do you
+think it would be for us to take the children, and make a real family
+reunion of it?
+
+I figure that we could all get there by four o'clock the day before
+Christmas, if we planned for it; and by staying perhaps two days after
+Christmas we could make quite a visit. What do you say? You see Father
+and Mother are getting old, and we can't have them with us many more
+years, anyway; and I'm sure this would please them--only we must be
+very careful not to make it too exciting for them.
+
+The letters were dispatched with haste, and almost by return mail came
+the answers; an emphatic approval, and a promise of hearty cooperation
+signed "Frank" and "Ned." What is every one's business is apt to be no
+one's business, however, and no one notified Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Bertram
+of the change of plan, each thinking that one of the others would attend
+to it.
+
+"As for presents," mused Ella, as she hurried downtown two days before
+Christmas, "I never can think what to give them; but, after all, there's
+nothing better than bed-slippers for Mother, and a warm neckerchief for
+Father's throat. Those are always good."
+
+The day before Christmas dawned clear and cold. It had been expected
+that Ella, her husband, and her twin boys would arrive at the little
+village station a full hour before the train from the north bringing
+Ned, Mrs. Ned, and little Mabel, together with Frank and his wife and
+son; but Ella's train was late--so late that it came in a scant five
+minutes ahead of the other one, and thus brought about a joyous greeting
+between the reunited families on the station platform itself.
+
+"Why, it's not so bad we were late, after all," cried Ella. "This is
+fine--now we can all go together!"
+
+"Jove! but we're a cheery sight!" exclaimed Ned, as he counted off on
+his fingers the blooming faces of those about him. "There are ten of
+us!"
+
+"Only fancy what they'll say at the house when they catch their first
+glimpse of us!" chuckled Frank. "The dear old souls! How Father's eyes
+will shine and Mother's cap-strings bob! By the way, of course they know
+we're coming to-day?"
+
+There was a moment's silence; then Ella flushed. "Why! didn't--didn't
+you tell them?" she stammered.
+
+"I? Why, of course not!" cried Frank. "I supposed you were going to. But
+maybe Ned-" He paused and turned questioning eyes on his brother.
+
+Ned shook his head. "Not I," he said.
+
+"Why, then--then they don't know," cried Ella, aghast. "They don't know
+a thing!"
+
+"Never mind, come on," laughed Ned. "What difference does it make?"
+
+"'What difference does it make'!" retorted Ella indignantly. "Ned
+Bertram, do you suppose I'd take the risk of ten of us pouncing down on
+those two poor dears like this by surprise? Certainly not!"
+
+"But, Ella, they're expecting six of us tomorrow," remonstrated Frank.
+
+"Very true. But that's not ten of us today."
+
+"I know; but so far as the work is concerned, you girls always do the
+most of that," cut in Ned.
+
+"Work! It isn't the work," almost groaned Ella. "Don't you see, boys?
+It's the excitement--'twouldn't do for them at all. We must fix it some
+way. Come, let's go into the waiting-room and talk it up."
+
+It was not until after considerable discussion that their plans were
+finally made and their line of march decided upon. To advance in the
+open and take the house by storm was clearly out of the question, though
+Ned remarked that in all probability the dear old creatures would be
+dozing before the fire, and would not discover their approach. Still, it
+would be wiser to be on the safe side; and it was unanimously voted that
+Frank should go ahead alone and reconnoiter, preparing the way for the
+rest, who could wait, meanwhile, at the little hotel not far from the
+house.
+
+The short winter day had drawn almost to a close when Frank turned in at
+the familiar gate of the Bertram homestead. His hand had not reached the
+white knob of the bell, however, when the eager expectancy of his face
+gave way to incredulous amazement; from within, clear and distinct, had
+come the sound of a violin.
+
+"Why, what--" he cried under his breath, and softly pushed open the
+door.
+
+The hall was almost dark, but the room beyond was a blaze of light, with
+the curtains drawn, and apparently every lamp the house contained
+trimmed and burning. He himself stood in the shadow, and his entrance
+had been unnoticed, though almost the entire expanse of the room before
+him was visible through the half-open doorway.
+
+In the farther corner of the room a large evergreen tree, sparkling with
+candles and tinsel stars, was hung with bags of pink and white tarletan
+and festoons of puffy popcorn. Near it sat an old man playing the
+violin; and his whole wiry self seemed to quiver with joy to the tune of
+his merry "Money Musk." In the center of the room two gray-haired men
+were dancing an old-time jig, bobbing, bowing, and twisting about in a
+gleeful attempt to outdo each other. Watching them were three old women
+and another old man, eating ice cream and contentedly munching
+peppermints. And here, there, and everywhere was the mistress of the
+house, Lydia Ann herself, cheeks flushed and cap-strings flying, but
+plainly in her element and joyously content.
+
+For a time the man by the hall door watched in silent amazement; then
+with a low ejaculation he softly let himself out of the house, and
+hurried back to the hotel.
+
+"Well?" greeted half a dozen voices; and one added: "What did they say?"
+
+Frank shook his head and dropped into the nearest chair. "I--I didn't
+tell them," he stammered faintly.
+
+"Didn't tell them!" exclaimed Ella. "Why, Frank, what was the trouble?
+Were they sick? Surely, they were not upset by just seeing you!"
+Frank's eyes twinkled "Well, hardly!" he retorted. "They--they're having
+a party."
+
+"A party!" shrieked half a dozen voices.
+
+"Yes; and a tree, and a dance, and ice cream, and pink peppermints,"
+Frank enumerated in one breath.
+
+There was a chorus of expostulation; then Ella's voice rose dominant.
+"Frank Bertram, what on earth do you mean?" she demanded. "Who is having
+all this?"
+
+"Father and Mother," returned Frank, his lips twitching a little. "And
+they've got old Uncle Tim and half a dozen others for guests."
+
+"But, Frank, how can they be having all this?" faltered Ella. "Why,
+Father's not so very far from eighty years old, and--Mabel, Mabel, my
+dear!" she broke off in sudden reproof to her young niece, who had come
+under her glance at that moment. "Those are presents for Grandpa and
+Grandma. I wouldn't play with them."
+
+Mabel hesitated, plainly rebellious. In each hand was a gray worsted
+bed-slipper; atop of her yellow curls was a brown neckerchief, cap
+fashion.
+
+There were exclamations from two men, and Ned came forward hurriedly.
+"Oh, I say, Ella," he remonstrated, "you didn't get those for presents,
+did you?"
+
+"But I did. Why not?" questioned Ella.
+
+"Why, I got slippers, you see. I never can think of anything else.
+Besides, they're always good, anyhow. But I should think <i>you</i>, a
+<i>woman</i>, could think of something--"
+
+"Never mind," interrupted Ella airily. "Mother's a dear, and she won't
+care if she does get two pairs."
+
+"But she won't want three pairs," groaned Frank; "and I got slippers
+too!"
+
+There was a moment of dismayed silence, then everybody laughed.
+
+Ella was the first to speak. "It's too bad, of course, but never mind.
+Mother'll see the joke of it just as we do. You know she never seems to
+care what we give her. Old people don't have many wants, I fancy."
+
+Frank stirred suddenly and walked the length of the room. Then he
+wheeled about.
+
+"Do you know," he said, a little unsteadily, "I believe that's a
+mistake?"
+
+"A mistake? What's a mistake?"
+
+"The notion that old people don't have any--wants. See here. They're
+having a party down there--a party, and they must have got it up
+themselves. Such being the case, of course they had what they wanted for
+entertainment--and they aren't drinking tea or knitting socks. They're
+dancing jigs and eating pink peppermints and ice cream! Their eyes are
+like stars, and Mother's cheeks are like a girl's; and if you think I'm
+going to offer those spry young things a brown neckerchief and a pair of
+bed-slippers you're much mistaken--because I'm not!"
+
+"But what--can--we do?" stammered Ella.
+
+"We can buy something else here--to-night--in the village," declared
+Frank; "and to-morrow morning we can go and give it to them."
+
+"But--buy what?"
+
+"I haven't the least idea," retorted Frank, with an airy wave of his
+hands. "Maybe 'twill be a diamond tiara and a polo pony. Anyway, I know
+what 'twon't be--'twon't be slippers or a neckerchief!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was later than usual that Christmas morning when Mr. and Mrs. Samuel
+Bertram arose. If the old stomachs had rebelled a little at the pink
+peppermints and ice cream, and if the old feet had charged toll for
+their unaccustomed activity of the night before, neither Samuel nor
+Lydia Ann would acknowledge it.
+
+"Well, we had it--that tree!" chuckled Samuel, as he somewhat stiffly
+thrust himself into his clothes.
+
+"We did, Samuel,--we did," quavered Lydia Ann joyfully, "an' wa'n't it
+nice? Mis' Hopkins said she never had such a good time in all her life
+before."
+
+"An' Uncle Tim an' Grandpa Gowin'--they was as spry as crickets, an'
+they made old Pete tune up that 'Money Musk' three times 'fore they'd
+quit"
+
+"Yes; an'--my grief an' conscience, Samuel! 'tis late, ain't it?" broke
+off Lydia Ann, anxiously peering at the clock. "Come, come, dear, you'll
+have ter hurry 'bout gettin' that tree out of the front room 'fore
+the children get here. I wouldn't have 'em know for the world how silly
+we've been--not for the world!"
+
+Samuel bridled, but his movements showed a perceptible increase of
+speed.
+
+"Well, I do' know," he chuckled.
+
+"'T wa'n't anythin' so awful, after all. But, say," he called
+triumphantly a moment later, as he stooped and picked up a small object
+from the floor, "they will find out if you don't hide these 'ere
+pep'mints!"
+
+The tree and the peppermints had scarcely disappeared from the "front
+room" when Frank arrived.
+
+"Oh, they're all coming in a minute," he laughed gayly in response to
+the surprised questions that greeted him. "And we've brought the
+children, too. You'll have a houseful, all right!"
+
+A houseful it certainly proved to be, and a lively one, too. In the
+kitchen "the girls" as usual reigned supreme, and bundled off the little
+mother to "visit with the boys and the children" during the process of
+dinner-getting, and after dinner they all gathered around the fireplace
+for games and stories.
+
+"And now," said Frank when darkness came and the lamps were lighted,
+"I've got a new game, but it's a very mysterious game, and you, Father
+and Mother, must not know a thing about it until it's all ready." And
+forthwith he conducted the little old man and the little old woman out
+into the kitchen with great ceremony.
+
+"Say, Samuel, seems as if this was 'most as good as the party,"
+whispered Lydia Ann excitedly, as they waited in the dark. "I know it;
+an' they hain't asked us once if we was gettin' too tired! Did ye
+notice, Lyddy Ann?"
+
+"Yes, an' they didn't make us take naps, either. Ain't it nice? Why,
+Samuel, I--I shan't mind even the bed-slippers now," she laughed.
+
+"Ready!" called Frank, and the dining-room door was thrown wide open.
+
+The old eyes blinked a little at the sudden light, then widened in
+amazement. Before the fireplace was a low sewing-table with a chair at
+each end. The table itself was covered with a white cloth which lay in
+fascinating little ridges and hillocks indicating concealed treasures
+beneath. About the table were grouped the four eager-eyed grandchildren
+and their no less eager-eyed parents. With still another ceremonious bow
+Frank escorted the little old man and the little old woman to the
+waiting chairs, and with a merry "One, two, three!" whisked off the
+cloth.
+
+For one amazed instant there was absolute silence; then Lydia Ann drew a
+long breath.
+
+"Samuel, Samuel, they're presents--an' for us!" she quavered joyously.
+"It's the bed-slippers and the neckerchiefs, an' they did 'em all up in
+white paper an' red ribbons just for us."
+
+At the corner of the mantelpiece a woman choked suddenly and felt for
+her handkerchief. Behind her two men turned sharply and walked toward
+the window; but the little old man and the little old woman did not
+notice it. They had forgotten everything but the enchanting array of
+mysteries before them.
+
+Trembling old hands hovered over the many-sized, many-shaped packages,
+and gently patted the perky red bows; but not until the grandchildren
+impatiently demanded, "Why don't you look at 'em?" did they venture to
+untie a single ribbon. Then the old eyes shone, indeed, at sight of the
+wonderful things disclosed; a fine lace tie and a bottle of perfume; a
+reading-glass and a basket of figs; some dates, raisins, nuts, and
+candies, and a little electric pocket lantern which would, at the
+pressure of a thumb, bring to light all the secrets of the darkest of
+rooms. There were books, too, such as Ella and Frank themselves liked to
+read; and there was a handsome little clock for the mantel--but there
+was not anywhere a pair of bed-slippers or a neckerchief.
+
+At last they were all opened, and there remained not one little red bow
+to untie. On the table, in all their pristine glory, lay the presents,
+and half-buried in bits of paper and red ribbon sat the amazed, but
+blissfully happy, little old man and little old woman. Lydia Ann's lips
+parted, but the trembling words of thanks froze on her tongue--her eyes
+had fallen on a small pink peppermint on the floor.
+
+"No, no, we can't take 'em," she cried agitatedly. "We hadn't ought to.
+We was wicked and ongrateful, and last night we--we--" She paused
+helplessly, her eyes on her husband's face. "Samuel, you--you tell," she
+faltered.
+
+Samuel cleared his throat.
+
+"Well, ye see, we--yes, last night, we--we--" He could say no more.
+
+"We--we had a party to--to make up for things," blurted out Lydia Ann.
+"And so ye see we--we hadn't ought ter take these--all these!"
+
+Frank winced. His face grew a little white as he threw a quick glance
+into his sister's eyes; but his voice, when he spoke, was clear and
+strong from sheer force of will.
+
+"A party? Good! I'm glad of it. Did you enjoy it?" he asked.
+
+Samuel's jaw dropped. Lydia Ann stared speechlessly. This cordial
+approval of their folly was more incomprehensible than had been the
+failure to relegate them to naps and knitting earlier in the afternoon.
+
+"And you've got another party to-night, too; haven't you?" went on Frank
+smoothly. "As for those things there"--he waved his hand toward the
+table--"of course you'll take them. Why, we picked them out on purpose
+for you,--every single one of them,--and only think how we'd feel if you
+didn't take them! Don't you--like them?"
+
+"'Like them'!" cried Lydia Ann, and at the stifled sob in her voice
+three men and three women caught their breath sharply and tried to
+swallow the lumps in their throats. "We--we just love them!"
+
+No one spoke. The grandchildren stared silently, a little awed. Ella,
+Frank, and Ned stirred restlessly and looked anywhere but at each other.
+
+Lydia Ann flushed, then paled. "Of course, if--if you picked 'em
+out 'specially for us--" she began hesitatingly, her eyes anxiously
+scanning the perturbed faces of her children.
+
+"We did--especially," came the prompt reply.
+
+Lydia Ann's gaze drifted to the table and lingered upon the clock, the
+tie, and the bottle of perfume. "'Specially for us," she murmured
+softly. Then her face suddenly cleared. "Why, then we'll have to take
+them, won't we?" she cried, her voice tremulous with ecstasy. "We'll
+just have to--whether we ought to or not!"
+
+"You certainly will!" declared Frank. And this time he did not even try
+to hide the shake in his voice.
+
+"Oh!" breathed Lydia Ann blissfully. "Samuel, I--I think I'll take a
+fig, please!"
+
+
+
+
+Jupiter Ann
+
+
+
+It was only after serious consideration that Miss Prue had bought the
+little horse, Jupiter, and then she changed the name at once. For a
+respectable spinster to drive any sort of horse was bad enough in Miss
+Prue's opinion; but to drive a heathen one! To replace "Jupiter" she
+considered "Ann" a sensible, dignified, and proper name, and "Ann" she
+named him, regardless of age, sex, or "previous condition of servitude."
+The villagers accepted the change--though with modifications; the horse
+was known thereafter as "Miss Prue's Jupiter Ann."
+
+Miss Prue had said that she wanted a safe, steady horse; one that would
+not run, balk, or kick. She would not have bought any horse, indeed, had
+it not been that the way to the post office, the store, the church, and
+everywhere else, had grown so unaccountably long--Miss Prue was
+approaching her sixtieth birthday. The horse had been hers now a month,
+and thus far it had been everything that a dignified, somewhat timid
+spinster could wish it to be. Fortunately--or unfortunately, as one may
+choose to look at it--Miss Prue did not know that in the dim recesses of
+Jupiter's memory there lurked the smell of the turf, the feel of the
+jockey's coaxing touch, and the sound of a triumphant multitude shouting
+his name; in Miss Prue's estimation the next deadly sin to treason and
+murder was horse racing.
+
+There was no one in the town, perhaps, who did not know of Miss Prue's
+abhorrence of horse racing. On all occasions she freed her mind
+concerning it; and there was a report that the only lover of her youth
+had lost his suit through his passion for driving fast horses. Even the
+county fair Miss Prue had refused all her life to attend--there was the
+horse racing. It was because of all this that she had been so loath to
+buy a horse, if only the way to everywhere had not grown so long!
+
+For four weeks--indeed, for five--the new horse, Ann, was a treasure;
+then, one day, Jupiter remembered.
+
+Miss Prue was driving home from the post office. The wide, smooth road
+led straight ahead under an arch of flaming gold and scarlet. The
+October air was crisp and bracing, and unconsciously Miss Prue lifted
+her chin and drew a long breath. Almost at once, however, she frowned.
+From behind her had come the sound of a horse's hoofs, and reluctantly
+Miss Prue pulled the right-hand rein.
+
+Jupiter Ann quickened his gait perceptibly, and lifted his head. His
+ears came erect.
+
+"Whoa, Ann, whoa!" stammered Miss Prue nervously.
+
+The hoof beats were almost abreast now, and hurriedly Miss Prue turned
+her head. At once she gave the reins an angry jerk; in the other light
+carriage sat Rupert Joyce, the young man who for weeks had been
+unsuccessfully trying to find favor in her eyes because he had already
+found it in the eyes of her ward and niece, Mary Belle.
+
+"Good-morning, Miss Prue," called a boyish voice.
+
+"Good-morning," snapped the woman, and jerked the reins again.
+
+Miss Prue awoke then to the sudden realization that if the other's speed
+had accelerated, so, too, had her own.
+
+"Ann, Ann, whoa!" she commanded. Then she turned angry eyes on the young
+man. "Go by--go by! Why don't you go by?" she called sharply.
+
+In obedience, young Joyce touched the whip to his gray mare: but he did
+not go by. With a curious little shake, as if casting off years of dull
+propriety, Jupiter Ann thrust forward his nose and got down to business.
+
+Miss Prue grew white, then red. Her hands shook on the reins.
+
+"Ann, Ann, whoa! You mustn't--you can't! Ann, please whoa!" she
+supplicated wildly. She might as well have besought the wind not to
+blow.
+
+On and on, neck and neck, the horses raced. Miss Prue's bonnet slipped
+and hung rakishly above one ear. Her hair loosened and fell in
+straggling wisps of gray to her shoulders. Her eyeglasses dropped from
+her nose and swayed dizzily on their slender chain. Her gloves split
+across the back and showed the white, tense knuckles. Her breath came in
+gasps, and only a moaning "whoa--whoa" fell in jerky rhythm from her
+white lips. Ashamed, frightened, and dismayed, Miss Prue clung to the
+reins and kept her straining eyes on the road ahead.
+
+On and on down the long straight road flew Jupiter Ann and the little
+gray mare. At door and window of the scudding houses appeared men and
+women with startled faces and upraised hands. Miss Prue knew that they
+were there, and shuddered. The shame of it--she, in a horse-race, and
+with Rupert Joyce! Hurriedly she threw a look at the young man's face to
+catch its expression; and then she saw something else: the little gray
+mare was a full half-head in the lead of Jupiter Ann!
+
+It was then that a strange something awoke in Miss Prue--a fierce new
+something that she had never felt before. Her lips set hard, and her
+eyes flashed a sudden fire. Her moaning "whoa--whoa" fell silent, and
+her hands loosened instinctively on the reins. She was leaning forward
+now, eagerly, anxiously, her eyes on the head of the other horse.
+Suddenly her tense muscles relaxed, and a look that was perilously near
+to triumphant joy crossed her face--Jupiter Ann was ahead once more!
+
+By the time the wide sweep of the driveway leading to Miss Prue's home
+was reached, there was no question of the result, and well in the lead
+of the little gray mare Jupiter Ann trotted proudly up the driveway and
+came to a panting stop.
+
+Flushed, disheveled, and palpitating, Miss Prue picked her way to the
+ground. Behind her Rupert Joyce was just driving into the yard. He, too,
+was flushed and palpitating--though not for the same reason.
+
+"I--I just thought I'd drive out and see Mary Belle," he blurted out
+airily, assuming a bold front to meet the wrath which he felt was sure
+to come. At once, however, his jaw dropped in amazement.
+
+"Mary Belle? I left her down in the orchard gathering apples," Miss Prue
+was saying cheerfully. "You might look for her there." And she smiled--
+the gracious smile of the victor for the vanquished.
+
+Incredulously the youth stared; then, emboldened, he plunged on
+recklessly:
+
+"I say, you know, Miss Prue, that little horse of yours can run!"
+
+Miss Prue stiffened. With a jerk she straightened her bonnet and thrust
+her glasses on her nose.
+
+"Ann has been bad--very bad," she said severely. "We'll not talk of it,
+if you please. I am ashamed of her!" And he turned haughtily away.
+
+And yet--
+
+In the barn two minutes later, Miss Prue patted Jupiter Ann on the neck
+--a thing she had never done before.
+
+"We beat 'em, anyhow, Ann," she whispered. "And, after all, he's a
+pleasant-spoken chap, and if Mary Belle wants him--why--let's let her
+have him!"
+
+
+
+
+The Axminster Path
+
+
+
+"There, dear, here we are, all dressed for the day!" said the girl
+gayly, as she led the frail little woman along the strip of Axminster
+carpet that led to the big chair.
+
+"And Kathie?" asked the woman, turning her head with the groping
+uncertainty of the blind.
+
+"Here, mother," answered a cheery voice. "I'm right here by the window."
+
+"Oh!" And the woman smiled happily. "Painting, I suppose, as usual."
+
+"Oh, I'm working, as usual," returned the same cheery voice, its owner
+changing the position of the garment in her lap and reaching for a spool
+of silk.
+
+"There!" breathed the blind woman, as she sank into the great chair.
+"Now I am all ready for my breakfast. Tell cook, please, Margaret, that
+I will have tea this morning, and just a roll besides my orange." And
+she smoothed the folds of her black silk gown and picked daintily at the
+lace in her sleeves.
+
+"Very well, dearie," returned her daughter. "You shall have it right
+away," she added over her shoulder as she left the room.
+
+In the tiny kitchen beyond the sitting-room Margaret Whitmore lighted
+the gas-stove and set the water on to boil. Then she arranged a small
+tray with a bit of worn damask and the only cup and saucer of delicate
+china that the shelves contained. Some minutes later she went back to
+her mother, tray in hand.
+
+"'Most starved to death?" she demanded merrily, as she set the tray upon
+the table Katherine had made ready before the blind woman. "You have
+your roll, your tea, your orange, as you ordered, dear, and just a bit
+of currant jelly besides."
+
+"Currant jelly? Well, I don't know,--perhaps it will taste good. 'T was
+so like Nora to send it up; she's always trying to tempt my appetite,
+you know. Dear me, girls, I wonder if you realize what a treasure we
+have in that cook!"
+
+"Yes, dear, I know," murmured Margaret hastily. "And now the tea,
+Mother--it's getting colder every minute. Will you have the orange
+first?"
+
+The slender hands of the blind woman hovered for a moment over the
+table, then dropped slowly and found by touch the position of spoons,
+plates, and the cup of tea.
+
+"Yes, I have everything. I don't need you any longer, Meg. I don't like
+to take so much of your time, dear--you should let Betty do for me."
+
+"But I want to do it," laughed Margaret. "Don't you want me?"
+
+"Want you! That isn't the question, dear," objected Mrs. Whitmore
+gently. "Of course, a maid's service can't be compared for an instant
+with a daughter's love and care; but I don't want to be selfish--and you
+and Kathie never let Betty do a thing for me. There, there! I won't
+scold any more. What are you going to do to-day, Meg?"
+
+Margaret hesitated. She was sitting by the window now, in a low chair
+near her sister's. In her hands was a garment similar to that upon which
+Katherine was still at work.
+
+"Why, I thought," she began slowly, "I'd stay here with you and
+Katherine a while."
+
+Mrs. Whitmore set down her empty cup and turned a troubled face toward
+the sound of her daughter's voice.
+
+"Meg, dear," she remonstrated, "is it that fancy-work?"
+
+"Well, isn't fancy-work all right?" The girl's voice shook a little.
+
+Mrs. Whitmore stirred uneasily.
+
+"No, it--it isn't--in this case," she protested. "Meg, Kathie, I don't
+like it. You are young; you should go out more--both of you. I
+understand, of course; it's your unselfishness. You stay with me lest I
+get lonely; and you play at painting and fancy-work for an excuse. Now,
+dearies, there must be a change. You must go out. You must take your
+place in society. I will not have you waste your young lives."
+
+"Mother!" Margaret was on her feet, and Katherine had dropped her work.
+"Mother!" they cried again.
+
+"I--I shan't even listen," faltered Margaret. "I shall go and leave you
+right away," she finished tremulously, picking up the tray and hurrying
+from the room.
+
+It was hours later, after the little woman had trailed once more along
+the Axminster path to the bed in the room beyond and had dropped asleep,
+that Margaret Whitmore faced her sister with despairing eyes.
+
+"Katherine, what shall we do? This thing is killing me!"
+
+The elder girl's lips tightened. For an instant she paused in her work--
+but for only an instant.
+
+"I know," she said feverishly; "but we mustn't give up--we mustn't!"
+
+"But how can we help it? It grows worse and worse. She wants us to go
+out--to sing, dance, and make merry as we used to."
+
+"Then we'll go out and--tell her we dance."
+
+"But there's the work."
+
+"We'll take it with us. We can't both leave at once, of course, but old
+Mrs. Austin, downstairs, will be glad to have one or the other of us sit
+with her an occasional afternoon or evening."
+
+Margaret sprang to her feet and walked twice the length of the room.
+
+"But I've--lied so much already!" she moaned, pausing before her sister.
+"It's all a lie--my whole life!"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know," murmured the other, with a hurried glance toward the
+bedroom door. "But, Meg, we mustn't give up--'twould kill her to know
+now. And, after all, it's only a little while!--such a little while!"
+
+Her voice broke with a half-stifled sob. The younger girl shivered, but
+did not speak. She walked again the length of the room and back; then
+she sat down to her work, her lips a tense line of determination, and
+her thoughts delving into the few past years for a strength that might
+help her to bear the burden of the days to come.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten years before, and one week after James Whitmore's death, Mrs. James
+Whitmore had been thrown from her carriage, striking on her head and
+back.
+
+When she came to consciousness, hours afterward, she opened her eyes on
+midnight darkness, though the room was flooded with sunlight. The optic
+nerve had been injured, the doctor said. It was doubtful if she would
+ever be able to see again.
+
+Nor was this all. There were breaks and bruises, and a bad injury to the
+spine. It was doubtful if she would ever walk again. To the little woman
+lying back on the pillow it seemed a living death--this thing that had
+come to her.
+
+It was then that Margaret and Katherine constituted themselves a
+veritable wall of defense between their mother and the world. Nothing
+that was not inspected and approved by one or the other was allowed to
+pass Mrs. Whitmore's chamber door.
+
+For young women only seventeen and nineteen, whose greatest
+responsibility hitherto had been the selection of a gown or a ribbon,
+this was a new experience.
+
+At first the question of expense did not enter into consideration.
+Accustomed all their lives to luxury, they unhesitatingly demanded it
+now; and doctors, nurses, wines, fruits, flowers, and delicacies were
+summoned as a matter of course.
+
+Then came the crash. The estate of the supposedly rich James Whitmore
+was found to be deeply involved, and in the end there was only a
+pittance for the widow and her two daughters.
+
+Mrs. Whitmore was not told of this at once. She was so ill and helpless
+that a more convenient season was awaited. That was nearly ten years
+ago--and she had not been told yet.
+
+Concealment had not been difficult at first. The girls had, indeed,
+drifted into the deception almost unconsciously, as it certainly was not
+necessary to burden the ears of the already sorely afflicted woman with
+the petty details of the economy and retrenchment on the other side of
+her door.
+
+If her own luxuries grew fewer, the change was so gradual that the
+invalid did not notice it, and always her blindness made easy the
+deception of those about her.
+
+Even the move to another home was accomplished without her realizing it
+--she was taken to the hospital for a month's treatment, and when the
+month was ended she was tenderly carried home and laid on her own bed;
+and she did not know that "home" now was a cheap little flat in Harlem
+instead of the luxurious house on the avenue where her children were
+born.
+
+She was too ill to receive visitors, and was therefore all the more
+dependent on her daughters for entertainment.
+
+She pitied them openly for the grief and care she had brought upon them,
+and in the next breath congratulated them and herself that at least they
+had all that money could do to smooth the difficult way. In the face of
+this, it naturally did not grow any easier for the girls to tell the
+truth--and they kept silent.
+
+For six years Mrs. Whitmore did not step; then her limbs and back grew
+stronger, and she began to sit up, and to stand for a moment on her
+feet. Her daughters now bought the strip of Axminster carpet and laid a
+path across the bedroom, and another one from the bedroom door to the
+great chair in the sitting-room, so that her feet might not note the
+straw matting on the floor and question its being there.
+
+In her own sitting-room at home--which had opened, like this, out of her
+bedroom--the rugs were soft and the chairs sumptuous with springs and
+satin damask. One such chair had been saved from the wreck--the one at
+the end of the strip of carpet.
+
+Day by day and month by month the years passed. The frail little woman
+walked the Axminster path and sat in the tufted chair. For her there
+were a china cup and plate, and a cook and maids below to serve. For her
+the endless sewing over which Katherine and Margaret bent their backs to
+eke out their scanty income was a picture or a bit of embriodery,
+designed to while away the time.
+
+As Margaret thought of it it seemed incredible--this tissue of
+fabrications that enmeshed them; but even as she wondered she knew that
+the very years that marked its gradual growth made now its strength.
+
+And in a little while would come the end--a very little while, the
+doctor said.
+
+Margaret tightened her lips and echoed her sister's words: "We mustn't
+give up--we mustn't!"
+
+Two days later the doctor called. He was a bit out of the old life.
+
+His home, too, had been--and was now, for that matter--on the avenue. He
+lived with his aunt, whose heir he was, and he was the only one outside
+of the Whitmore family that knew the house of illusions in which Mrs.
+Whitmore lived.
+
+His visits to the little Harlem flat had long ceased to have more than a
+semblance of being professional, and it was an open secret that he
+wished to make Margaret his wife. Margaret said no, though with a
+heightened color and a quickened breath--which told at least herself how
+easily the "no" might have been a "yes."
+
+Dr. Littlejohn was young and poor, and he had only his profession, for
+all he was heir to one of the richest women on the avenue; and Margaret
+refused to burden him with what she knew it would mean to marry her. In
+spite of argument, therefore, and a pair of earnest brown eyes that
+pleaded even more powerfully, she held to her convictions and continued
+to say no.
+
+All this, however, did not prevent Dr. Littlejohn from making frequent
+visits to the Whitmore home, and always his coming meant joy to three
+weary, troubled hearts. To-day he brought a great handful of pink
+carnations and dropped them into the lap of the blind woman.
+
+"Sweets to the sweet!" he cried gayly, as he patted the slim hand on the
+arm of the chair.
+
+"Doctor Ned--you dear boy! Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed Mrs. Whitmore,
+burying her face in the fragrant flowers. "And, doctor, I want to speak
+to you," she broke off earnestly. "I want you to talk to Meg and Kathie.
+Perhaps they will listen to you. I want them to go out more. Tell them,
+please, that I don't need them all the time now."
+
+"Dear me, how independent we are going to be!" laughed the doctor. "And
+so we don't need any more attention now, eh?"
+
+"Betty will do."
+
+"Betty?" It was hard, sometimes, for the doctor to remember.
+
+"The maid," explained Mrs. Whitmore; "though, for that matter, there
+might as well be no maid--the girls never let her do a thing for me."
+
+"No?" returned the doctor easily, sure now of where he stood. "But you
+don't expect me to interfere in this housekeeping business!"
+
+"Somebody must," urged Mrs. Whitmore. "The girls must leave me more. It
+isn't as if we were poor and couldn't hire nurses and maids. I should
+die if it were like that, and I were such a burden."
+
+"Mother, <i>dearest!</i>" broke in Margaret feverishly, with an
+imploring glance toward her sister and the doctor.
+
+"Oh, by the way," interposed the doctor airily, "it has occurred to me
+that the very object of my visit to-day is right along the lines of what
+you ask. I want Miss Margaret to go driving with me. I have a call to
+make out Washington Heights way."
+
+"Oh, but--" began Margaret, and paused at a gesture from her mother.
+
+"There aren't any 'buts' about it," declared Mrs. Whitmore. "Meg shall
+go."
+
+"Of course she'll go!" echoed Katherine. And with three against her,
+Margaret's protests were in vain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Whitmore was nervous that night. She could not sleep.
+
+It seemed to her that if she could get up and walk, back and forth, back
+and forth, she could rest afterward. She had not stepped alone yet, to
+be sure, since the accident, but, after all, the girls did little more
+than guide her feet, and she was sure that she could walk alone if she
+tried.
+
+The more she thought of it the more she longed to test her strength.
+Just a few steps back and forth, back and forth--then sleep. She was
+sure she could sleep then. Very quietly, that she might not disturb the
+sleepers in the bedroom beyond, the blind woman sat up in bed and
+slipped her feet to the floor.
+
+Within reach were her knit slippers and the heavy shawl always kept at
+the head of her bed. With trembling hands she put them on and rose
+upright.
+
+At last she was on her feet, and alone. To a woman who for ten years had
+depended on others for almost everything but the mere act of breathing,
+it was joy unspeakable. She stepped once, twice, and again along the
+side of her bed; then she stopped with a puzzled frown--under her feet
+was the unyielding, unfamiliar straw matting. She took four more steps,
+hesitatingly, and with her arms outstretched at full length before her.
+The next instant she recoiled and caught her breath sharply; her hands
+had encountered a wall and a window--<i>and there should have been no
+wall or windows there</i>!
+
+The joy was gone now.
+
+Shaking with fear and weakness, the little woman crept along the wall
+and felt for something that would tell her that she was still at home.
+Her feet made no sound, and only her hurried breathing broke the
+silence.
+
+Through the open door to the sitting-room, and down the wall to the
+right-on and on she crept.
+
+Here and there a familiar chair or stand met her groping hands and held
+them hesitatingly for a moment, only to release them to the terror of an
+unfamiliar corner or window-sill.
+
+The blind woman herself had long since lost all realization of what she
+was doing. There was only the frenzied longing to find her own. She did
+not hesitate even at the outer door of the apartment, but turned the key
+with shaking hands and stepped fearlessly into the hall. The next moment
+there came a scream and a heavy fall. The Whitmore apartment was just at
+the head of the stairs, and almost the first step of the blind woman had
+been off into space.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Mrs. Whitmore regained consciousness she was alone in her own bed.
+
+Out in the sitting-room, Margaret, Katherine, and the doctor talked
+together in low tones. At last the girls hurried into the kitchen, and
+the doctor turned and entered the bedroom. With a low ejaculation he
+hurried forward.
+
+Mrs. Whitmore flung out her arm and clutched his hand; then she lay back
+on the pillow and closed her eyes.
+
+"Doctor," she whispered, "where am I?"
+
+"At home, in your own bed."
+
+"Where is this place?"
+
+Dr. Littlejohn paled. He sent an anxious glance toward the sitting-room
+door, though he knew very well that Margaret and Katherine were in the
+kitchen and could not hear.
+
+"Where is this place?" begged the woman again.
+
+"Why, it--it--is--" The man paused helplessly.
+
+Five thin fingers tightened their clasp on his hand, and the low voice
+again broke the silence.
+
+"Doctor, did you ever know--did you ever hear that a fall could give
+back--sight?"
+
+Dr. Littlejohn started and peered into the wan face lying back on the
+pillow. Its impassiveness reassured him.
+
+"Why, perhaps--once or twice," he returned slowly, falling back into his
+old position, "though rarely--very rarely."
+
+"But it has happened?"
+
+"Yes, it has happened. There was a case recently in England. The shock
+and blow released the pressure on the optic nerve; but--"
+
+Something in the face he was watching brought him suddenly forward in
+his chair. "My dear woman, you don't mean--you can't--"
+
+He did not finish his sentence. Mrs. Whitmore opened her eyes and met
+his gaze unflinchingly. Then she turned her head.
+
+"Doctor," she said, "that picture on the wall there at the foot of the
+bed--it doesn't hang quite straight."
+
+"Mrs. Whitmore!" breathed the man incredulously, half rising from his
+chair.
+
+"Hush! Not yet!" The woman's insistent hand had pulled him back. "Why am
+I here? Where is this place?"
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"Doctor, you must tell me. I must know."
+
+Again the man hesitated. He noted the flushed cheeks and shaking hands
+of the woman before him. It was true, she must know; and perhaps, after
+all, it was best she should know through him. He drew a long breath and
+plunged straight into the heart of the story.
+
+Five minutes later a glad voice came from the doorway.
+
+"Mother, dearest--then you're awake!" The doctor was conscious of a low-
+breathed "Hush, don't tell her!" in his ears; then, to his amazement, he
+saw the woman on the bed turn her head and hold out her hand with the
+old groping uncertainty of the blind.
+
+"Margaret! It is Margaret, isn't it?"
+
+Days afterward, when the weary, painracked body of the little mother was
+forever at rest, Margaret lifted her head from her lover's shoulder,
+where she had been sobbing out her grief.
+
+"Ned, I can't be thankful enough," she cried, "that we kept it from
+Mother to the end. It's my only comfort. She didn't know."
+
+"And I'm sure she would wish that thought to be a comfort to you, dear,"
+said the doctor gently. "I am sure she would."
+
+
+
+
+Phineas and the Motor Car
+
+
+
+Phineas used to wonder, sometimes, just when it was that he began to
+court Diantha Bowman, the rosy-cheeked, golden-haired idol of his
+boyhood. Diantha's cheeks were not rosy now, and her hair was more
+silver than gold, but she was not yet his wife.
+
+And he had tried so hard to win her! Year after year the rosiest apples
+from his orchard and the choicest honey from his apiary had found their
+way to Diantha's table; and year after year the county fair and the
+village picnic had found him at Diantha's door with his old mare and his
+buggy, ready to be her devoted slave for the day. Nor was Diantha
+unmindful of all these attentions. She ate the apples and the honey, and
+spent long contented hours in the buggy; but she still answered his
+pleadings with her gentle: "I hain't no call to marry yet, Phineas," and
+nothing he could do seemed to hasten her decision in the least. It was
+the mare and the buggy, however, that proved to be responsible for what
+was the beginning of the end.
+
+They were on their way home from the county fair. The mare, head
+hanging, was plodding through the dust when around the curve of the road
+ahead shot the one automobile that the town boasted. The next moment the
+whizzing thing had passed, and left a superannuated old mare looming
+through a cloud of dust and dancing on two wabbly hind legs.
+
+"Plague take them autymobiles!" snarled Phineas through set teeth, as he
+sawed at the reins. "I ax yer pardon, I'm sure, Dianthy," he added
+shamefacedly, when the mare had dropped to a position more nearly
+normal; "but I hain't no use fur them 'ere contraptions!"
+
+Diantha frowned. She was frightened--and because she was frightened she
+was angry. She said the first thing that came into her head--and never
+had she spoken to Phineas so sharply.
+
+"If you did have some use for 'em, Phineas Hopkins, you wouldn't be
+crawlin' along in a shiftless old rig like this; you'd have one yourself
+an' be somebody! For my part, I like 'em, an' I'm jest achin' ter ride
+in 'em, too!"
+
+Phineas almost dropped the reins in his amazement. "Achin' ter ride in
+'em," she had said--and all that he could give her was this "shiftless
+old rig" that she so scorned. He remembered something else, too, and his
+face flamed suddenly red. It was Colonel Smith who owned and drove that
+automobile, and Colonel Smith, too, was a bachelor. What if--Instantly
+in Phineas's soul rose a fierce jealousy.
+
+"I like a hoss, myself," he said then, with some dignity. "I want
+somethin' that's alive!"
+
+Diantha laughed slyly. The danger was past, and she could afford to be
+merry.
+
+"Well, it strikes me that you come pretty near havin' somethin' that
+<i>wa'n't</i> alive jest 'cause you had somethin' that was!" she
+retorted. "Really, Phineas, I didn't s'pose Dolly could move so fast!"
+
+Phineas bridled.
+
+"Dolly knew how ter move--once," he rejoined grimly. "'Course nobody
+pretends ter say she's young now, any more 'n we be," he finished with
+some defiance. But he drooped visibly at Diantha's next words.
+
+"Why, I don't feel old, Phineas, an' I ain't old, either. Look at
+Colonel Smith; he's jest my age, an' he's got a autymobile. Mebbe I'll
+have one some day."
+
+To Phineas it seemed that a cold hand clutched his heart.
+
+"Dianthy, you wouldn't really--ride in one!" he faltered.
+
+Until that moment Diantha had not been sure that she would, but the
+quaver in Phineas's voice decided her.
+
+"Wouldn't I? You jest wait an' see!"
+
+And Phineas did wait--and he did see. He saw Diantha, not a week later,
+pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, sitting by the side of Colonel Smith in
+that hated automobile. Nor did he stop to consider that Diantha was only
+one of a dozen upon whom Colonel Smith, in the enthusiasm of his new
+possession, was pleased to bestow that attention. To Phineas it could
+mean but one thing; and he did not change his opinion when he heard
+Diantha's account of the ride.
+
+"It was perfectly lovely," she breathed. "Oh, Phineas, it was jest like
+flyin'!"
+
+"'Flyin'!'" Phineas could say no more. He felt as if he were choking,--
+choking with the dust raised by Dolly's plodding hoofs.
+
+"An' the trees an' the houses swept by like ghosts," continued Diantha.
+"Why, Phineas, I could 'a' rode on an' on furever!"
+
+Before the ecstatic rapture in Diantha's face Phineas went down in
+defeat. Without one word he turned away--but in his heart he registered
+a solemn vow: he, too, would have an automobile; he, too, would make
+Diantha wish to ride on and on forever!
+
+Arduous days came then to Phineas. Phineas was not a rich man. He had
+enough for his modest wants, but until now those wants had not included
+an automobile--until now he had not known that Diantha wished to fly.
+All through the autumn and winter Phineas pinched and economized until
+he had lopped off all of the luxuries and most of the pleasures of
+living. Even then it is doubtful if he would have accomplished his
+purpose had he not, in the spring, fallen heir to a modest legacy of a
+few thousand dollars. The news of his good fortune was not two hours old
+when he sought Diantha.
+
+"I cal'late mebbe I'll be gettin' me one o' them 'ere autymobiles this
+spring," he said, as if casually filling a pause in the conversation.
+
+"<i>Phineas</i>!"
+
+At the awed joy in Diantha's voice the man's heart glowed within him.
+This one moment of triumph was worth all the long miserable winter with
+its butterless bread and tobaccoless pipes. But he carefully hid his joy
+when he spoke.
+
+"Yes," he said nonchalantly. "I'm goin' ter Boston next week ter pick
+one out. I cal'late on gettin' a purty good one."
+
+"Oh, Phineas! But how--how you goin' ter run it?"
+
+Phineas's chin came up.
+
+"Run it!" he scoffed. "Well, I hain't had no trouble yet steerin' a
+hoss, an' I cal'late I won't have any more steerin' a mess o' senseless
+metal what hain't got no eyes ter be seein' things an' gittin' scared! I
+don't worry none 'bout runnin' it."
+
+"But, Phineas, it ain't all steerin'," ventured Diantha, timidly.
+"There's lots of little handles and things ter turn, an' there's some
+things you do with your feet. Colonel Smith did."
+
+The name Smith to Phineas was like a match to gunpowder. He flamed
+instantly into wrath.
+
+"Well, I cal'late what Colonel Smith does, I can," he snapped.
+"Besides"--airily--"mebbe I shan't git the feet kind, anyhow; I want the
+best. There's as much as four or five kinds, Jim Blair says, an' I
+cal'late ter try 'em all."
+
+"Oh-h!" breathed Diantha, falling back in her chair with an ecstatic
+sigh. "Oh, Phineas, won't it be grand!" And Phineas, seeing the joyous
+light in her eyes, gazed straight down a vista of happiness that led to
+wedding bells and bliss.
+
+Phineas was gone some time on his Boston trip. When he returned he
+looked thin and worried. He started nervously at trivial noises, and his
+eyes showed a furtive restlessness that quickly caused remark.
+
+"Why, Phineas, you don't look well!" Diantha exclaimed when she saw him.
+
+"Well? Oh, I'm well."
+
+"An' did you buy it--that autymobile?"
+
+"I did." Phineas's voice was triumphant. Diantha's eyes sparkled.
+
+"Where is it?" she demanded.
+
+"Comin'--next week."
+
+"An' did you try 'em all, as you said you would?"
+
+Phineas stirred; then he sighed.
+
+"Well, I dunno," he acknowledged. "I hain't done nothin' but ride in 'em
+since I went down--I know that. But there's such a powerful lot of 'em,
+Dianthy; an' when they found out I wanted one, they all took hold an'
+showed off their best p'ints--'demonstatin',' they called it. They raced
+me up hill an' down hill, an' scooted me round corners till I didn't
+know where I was. I didn't have a minute ter myself. An' they went fast,
+Dianthy-powerful fast. I ain't real sure yet that I'm breathin'
+natural."
+
+"But it must have been grand, Phineas! I should have loved it!"
+
+"Oh, it was, 'course!" assured Phineas, hastily.
+
+"An' you'll take me ter ride, right away?" If Phineas hesitated it was
+for only a moment.
+
+"'Course," he promised. "Er--there's a man, he's comin' with it, an'
+he's goin' ter stay a little, jest ter--ter make sure everything's all
+right. After he goes I'll come. An' ye want ter be ready--I'll show ye a
+thing or two!" he finished with a swagger that was meant to hide the
+shake in his voice.
+
+In due time the man and the automobile arrived, but Diantha did not have
+her ride at once. It must have taken some time to make sure that
+"everything was all right," for the man stayed many days, and while he
+was there, of course Phineas was occupied with him. Colonel Smith was
+unkind enough to observe that he hoped it was taking Phineas Hopkins
+long enough to learn to run the thing; but his remark did not reach
+Diantha's ears. She knew only that Phineas, together with the man and
+the automobile, started off early every morning for some unfrequented
+road, and did not return until night.
+
+There came a day, however, when the man left town, and not twenty-four
+hours later, Phineas, with a gleaming thing of paint and polish, stood
+at Diantha's door.
+
+"Now ain't that pretty," quavered Diantha excitedly. "Ain't that awful
+pretty!"
+
+Phineas beamed.
+
+"Purty slick, I think myself," he acknowledged.
+
+"An' green is so much nicer than red," cooed Diantha.
+
+Phineas quite glowed with joy--Colonel Smith's car was red. "Oh, green's
+the thing," he retorted airily; "an' see!" he added; and forthwith he
+burst into a paean of praise, in which tires, horns, lamps, pumps,
+baskets, brakes, and mud-guards were the dominant notes. It almost
+seemed, indeed, that he had bought the gorgeous thing before him to look
+at and talk about rather than to use, so loath was he to stop talking
+and set the wheels to moving. Not until Diantha had twice reminded him
+that she was longing to ride in it did he help her into the car and make
+ready to start.
+
+It was not an entire success--that start. There were several false moves
+on Phineas's part, and Diantha could not repress a slight scream and a
+nervous jump at sundry unexpected puffs and snorts and snaps from the
+throbbing thing beneath her. She gave a louder scream when Phineas, in
+his nervousness, sounded the siren, and a wail like a cry from the
+spirit world shrieked in her ears.
+
+"Phineas, what was that?" she shivered, when the voice had moaned into
+silence.
+
+Phineas's lips were dry, and his hands and knees were shaking; but his
+pride marched boldly to the front.
+
+"Why, that's the siren whistle, 'course," he chattered. "Ain't it great?
+I thought you'd like it!" And to hear him one would suppose that to
+sound the siren was always a necessary preliminary to starting the
+wheels.
+
+They were off at last. There was a slight indecision, to be sure,
+whether they would go backward or forward, and there was some hesitation
+as to whether Diantha's geranium bed or the driveway would make the best
+thoroughfare. But these little matters having been settled to the
+apparent satisfaction of all concerned, the automobile rolled down the
+driveway and out on to the main highway.
+
+"Oh, ain't this grand!" murmured Diantha, drawing a long but somewhat
+tremulous breath.
+
+Phineas did not answer. His lips were tense, and his eyes were fixed on
+the road ahead. For days now he had run the car himself, and he had been
+given official assurance that he was quite capable of handling it; yet
+here he was on his first ride with Diantha almost making a failure of
+the whole thing at the start. Was he to be beaten--beaten by a senseless
+motor car and Colonel Smith? At the thought Phineas lifted his chin and
+put on more power.
+
+"Oh, my! How f-fast we're goin'!" cried Diantha, close to his ear.
+
+Phineas nodded.
+
+"Who wants ter crawl?" he shouted; and the car leaped again at the touch
+of his hand.
+
+They were out of the town now, on a wide road that had few turns.
+Occasionally they met a carriage or a wagon, but the frightened horses
+and the no less frightened drivers gave the automobile a wide berth--
+which was well; for the parallel tracks behind Phineas showed that the
+car still had its moments of indecision as to the course to pursue.
+
+The town was four miles behind them when Diantha, who had been for some
+time vainly clutching at the flying ends of her veil, called to Phineas
+to stop.
+
+The request took Phineas by surprise. For one awful moment his mind was
+a blank--he had forgotten how to stop! In frantic haste he turned and
+twisted and shoved and pulled, ending with so sudden an application of
+the brakes that Diantha nearly shot head first out of the car as it
+stopped.
+
+"Why, why--Phineas!" she cried a little sharply.
+
+Phineas swallowed the lump in his throat and steadied himself in his
+seat.
+
+"Ye see I--I can stop her real quick if I want to," he explained
+jauntily. "Ye can do 'most anythin' with these 'ere things if ye only
+know how, Dianthy. Didn't we come slick?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," stammered Diantha, hastily smoothing out the frown on her
+face and summoning a smile to her lips--not for her best black silk gown
+would she have had Phineas know that she was wishing herself safe at
+home and the automobile back where it came from.
+
+"We'll go home through the Holler," said Phineas, after she had retied
+her veil and they were ready to start. "It's the long way round, ye
+know. I ain't goin' ter give ye no snippy little two-mile run, Dianthy,
+like Colonel Smith did," he finished gleefully.
+
+"No, of course not," murmured Diantha, smothering a sigh as the
+automobile started with a jerk.
+
+An hour later, tired, frightened, a little breathless, but valiantly
+declaring that she had had a "beautiful time," Diantha was set down at
+her own door.
+
+That was but the first of many such trips. Ever sounding in Phineas
+Hopkins's ears and spurring him to fresh endeavor, were Diantha's words,
+"I could 'a' rode on an' on furever"; and deep in his heart was the
+determination that if it was automobile rides that she wanted, it was
+automobile rides that she should have! His small farm on the edge of the
+town--once the pride of his heart--began to look forlorn and deserted;
+for Phineas, when not actually driving his automobile, was usually to be
+found hanging over it with wrench and polishing cloth. He bought little
+food and less clothing, but always--gasolene. And he talked to any one
+who would listen about automobiles in general and his own in particular,
+learnedly dropping in frequent references to cylinders, speed, horse
+power, vibrators, carburetors, and spark plugs.
+
+As for Diantha--she went to bed every night with thankfulness that she
+possessed her complement of limbs and senses, and she rose every morning
+with a fear that the coming night would find some of them missing. To
+Phineas and the town in general she appeared to be devoted to this
+breathless whizzing over the country roads; and wild horses could not
+have dragged from her the truth: that she was longing with an
+overwhelming longing for the old days of Dolly, dawdling, and peace.
+
+Just where it all would have ended it is difficult to say had not the
+automobile itself taken a hand in the game--as automobiles will
+sometimes--and played trumps.
+
+It was the first day of the county fair again, and Phineas and Diantha
+were on their way home. Straight ahead the road ran between clumps of
+green, then unwound in a white ribbon of dust across wide fields and
+open meadows.
+
+"Tain't much like last year, is it, Dianthy?" crowed Phineas, shrilly,
+in her ear--then something went wrong.
+
+Phineas knew it instantly. The quivering thing beneath them leaped into
+new life--but a life of its own. It was no longer a slave, but a master.
+Phineas's face grew white. Thus far he had been able to keep to the
+road, but just ahead there was a sharp curve, and he knew he could not
+make the turn--something was the matter with the steering-gear.
+
+"Look out--she's got the bits in her teeth!" he shouted. "She's bolted!"
+
+There came a scream, a sharp report, and a grinding crash--then silence.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From away off in the dim distance Phineas heard a voice.
+
+"Phineas! Phineas!"
+
+Something snapped, and he seemed to be floating up, up, up, out of the
+black oblivion of nothingness. He tried to speak, but he knew that he
+made no sound.
+
+"Phineas! Phineas!"
+
+The voice was nearer now, so near that it seemed just above him. It
+sounded like--With a mighty effort he opened his eyes; then full
+consciousness came. He was on the ground, his head in Diantha's lap.
+Diantha, bonnet crushed, neck-bow askew, and coat torn, was bending over
+him, calling him frantically by name. Ten feet away the wrecked
+automobile, tip-tilted against a large maple tree, completed the
+picture.
+
+With a groan Phineas closed his eyes and turned away his head.
+
+"She's all stove up--an' now you won't ever say yes," he moaned. "You
+wanted ter ride on an' on furever!"
+
+"But I will--I don't--I didn't mean it," sobbed Diantha incoherently.
+"I'd rather have Dolly twice over. I <i>like</i> ter crawl. Oh, Phineas,
+I hate that thing--I've always hated it! I'll say yes next week--to-
+morrow--to-day if you'll only open your eyes and tell me you ain't
+a-dyin'!"
+
+Phineas was not dying, and he proved it promptly and effectually, even
+to the doubting Diantha's blushing content. And there their rescuers
+found them a long half-hour later--a blissful old man and a happy old
+woman sitting hand in hand by the wrecked automobile.
+
+"I cal'lated somebody'd be along purty soon," said Phineas, rising
+stiffly. "Ye see, we've each got a foot that don't go, so we couldn't
+git help; but we hain't minded the wait--not a mite!"
+
+
+
+
+The Most Wonderful Woman
+
+
+
+And a Great Man who proves himself truly great
+
+It was Old Home Week in the little village, and this was to be the
+biggest day. From a distant city was to come the town's one really Great
+Man, to speak in the huge tent erected on the Common for just that
+purpose. From end to end the village was aflame with bunting and astir
+with excitement, so that even I, merely a weary sojourner in the place,
+felt the thrill and tingled pleasantly.
+
+When the Honorable Jonas Whitermore entered the tent at two o'clock that
+afternoon I had a good view of him, for my seat was next the broad
+aisle. Behind him on the arm of an usher came a small, frightened-
+looking little woman in a plain brown suit and a plainer brown bonnet
+set askew above thin gray hair. The materials of both suit and bonnet
+were manifestly good, but all distinction of line and cut was hopelessly
+lost in the wearing. Who she was I did not know; but I soon learned, for
+one of the two young women in front of me said a low something to which
+the other gave back a swift retort, woefully audible: "<i>His wife</i>?
+That little dowdy thing in brown? Oh, what a pity! Such an ordinary
+woman!"
+
+My cheeks grew hot in sympathy with the painful red that swept to the
+roots of the thin gray hair under the tip-tilted bonnet. Then I glanced
+at the man.
+
+Had he heard? I was not quite sure. His chin, I fancied, was a trifle
+higher. I could not see his eyes, but I did see his right hand; and it
+was clenched so tightly that the knuckles were white with the strain. I
+thought I knew then. He had heard. The next minute he had passed on up
+the aisle and the usher was seating the more-frightened-than-ever little
+wife in the roped-off section reserved for important guests.
+
+It was then that I became aware that the man on my right was saying
+something.
+
+"I beg your pardon, but-did you speak--to me?" I asked, turning to him
+hesitatingly.
+
+The old man met my eyes with an abashed smile.
+
+"I guess I'm the party what had ought to be askin' pardon, stranger," he
+apologized. "I talk to myself so much I kinder furgit sometimes, and do
+it when folks is round. I was only sayin' that I wondered why 'twas the
+good Lord give folks tongues and forgot to give 'em brains to run 'em
+with. But maybe you didn't hear what she said," he hazarded, with a jerk
+of his thumb toward the young woman in front.
+
+"About Mrs. Whitermore? Yes, I heard."
+
+His face darkened.
+
+"Then you know. And she heard, too! 'Ordinary woman,' indeed! Humph! To
+think that Betty Tillington should ever live to hear herself called an
+'ordinary woman'! You see, I knew her when she <i>was</i> Betty
+Tillington."
+
+"Did you?" I smiled encouragingly. I was getting interested, and I hoped
+he would keep on talking. On the platform the guest of honor was holding
+a miniature reception. He was the picture of polite attention and
+punctilious responsiveness; but I thought I detected a quick glance now
+and then toward the roped-off section where sat his wife and I wondered
+again--had he heard that thoughtless comment?
+
+From somewhere had come the rumor that the man who was to introduce the
+Honorable Jonas Whitermore had been delayed by a washout "down the
+road," but was now speeding toward us by automobile. For my part, I fear
+I wished the absentee a punctured tire so that I might hear more of the
+heart-history of the faded little woman with the bonnet askew.
+
+"Yes, I knew her," nodded my neighbor, "and she didn't look much then
+like she does now. She was as pretty as a picture and there wa'n't a
+chap within sight of her what wa'n't head over heels in love with her.
+But there wa'n't never a chance for but two of us and we knew it: Joe
+Whitermore and a chap named Fred Farrell. So, after a time, we just sort
+of stood off and watched the race--as pretty a race as ever you see.
+Farrell had the money and the good looks, while Whitermore was poor as a
+church mouse, and he was homely, too. But Whitermore must have had
+somethin'--maybe somethin' we didn't see, for she took <i>him</i>.
+
+"Well, they married and settled down happy as two twitterin' birds, but
+poor as Job's turkey. For a year or so she was as pretty and gay as ever
+she was and into every good time goin'; then the babies came, one after
+another, some of 'em livin' and some dyin' soon after they came.
+
+"Of course, things was different then. What with the babies and the
+housework, Betty couldn't get out much, and we didn't see much of her.
+When we did see her, though, she'd smile and toss her head in the old
+way and say how happy she was and didn't we think her babies was the
+prettiest things ever, and all that. And we did, of course, and told her
+so.
+
+"But we couldn't help seein' that she was gettin' thin and white and
+that no matter how she tossed her head, there wa'n't any curls there to
+bob like they used to, 'cause her hair was pulled straight back and
+twisted up into a little hard knot just like as if she had done it up
+when some one was callin' her to come quick."
+
+"Yes, I can imagine it," I nodded.
+
+"Well, that's the way things went at the first, while he was gettin' his
+start, and I guess they was happy then. You see, they was pullin' even
+them days and runnin' neck and neck. Even when Fred Farrell, her old
+beau, married a girl she knew and built a fine house all piazzas and
+bow-winders right in sight of their shabby little rented cottage, I
+don't think she minded it; even if Mis' Farrell didn't have anythin' to
+do from mornin' till night only set in a white dress on her piazza, and
+rock, and give parties, Betty didn't seem to mind. She had her Joe.
+
+"But by and by she didn't have her Joe. Other folks had him and his
+business had him. I mean, he'd got up where the big folks in town begun
+to take notice of him; and when he wa'n't tendin' to business, he was
+hobnobbin' with them, so's to bring <i>more</i> business. And--of course
+she, with her babies and housework, didn't have no time for that.
+
+"Well, next they moved away. When they went they took my oldest girl,
+Mary, to help Betty; and so we still kept track of 'em. Mary said it was
+worse than ever in the new place. It was quite a big city and just
+livin' cost a lot. Mr. Whitermore, of course, had to look decent, out
+among folks as he was, so he had to be 'tended to first. Then what was
+left of money and time went to the children. It wa'n't long, too, before
+the big folks <i>there</i> begun to take notice, and Mr. Whitermore
+would come home all excited and tell about what was said to him and what
+fine things he was bein' asked to do. He said 'twas goin' to mean
+everythin' to his career.
+
+"Then come the folks to call, ladies in fine carriages with dressed-up
+men to hold the door open and all that; but always, after they'd gone,
+Mary'd find Betty cryin' somewhere, or else tryin' to fix a bit of old
+lace or ribbon on to some old dress. Mary said Betty's clo's were awful,
+then. You see, there wa'n't never any money left for <i>her</i> things.
+But all this didn't last long, for very soon the fine ladies stopped
+comin' and Betty just settled down to the children and didn't try to fix
+her clo's any more.
+
+"But by and by, of course, the money begun to come in--lots of it--and
+that meant more changes, naturally. They moved into a bigger house, and
+got two more hired girls and a man, besides Mary. Mr. Whitermore said he
+didn't want his wife to work so hard now, and that, besides, his
+position demanded it. He was always talkin' about his position those
+days, tryin' to get his wife to go callin' and go to parties and take
+her place as his wife, as he put it.
+
+"And Mary said Betty did try, and try hard. Of course she had nice clo's
+now, lots of 'em; but somehow they never seemed to look just right. And
+when she did go to parties, she never knew what to talk about, she told
+Mary. She didn't know a thing about the books and pictures and the plays
+and quantities of other things that everybody else seemed to know about;
+and so she just had to sit still and say nothin'.
+
+"Mary said she could see it plagued her and she wa'n't surprised when,
+after a time, Betty begun to have headaches and be sick party nights,
+and beg Mr. Whitermore to go alone--and then cry because he did go
+alone. You see, she'd got it into her head then that her husband was
+ashamed of her."
+
+"And was--he?" demanded I.
+
+"I don't know. Mary said she couldn't tell exactly. He seemed worried,
+sometimes, and quite put out at the way his wife acted about goin' to
+places. Then, other times, he didn't seem to notice or care if he did
+have to go alone. It wa'n't that he was unkind to her. It was just that
+he was so busy lookin' after himself that he forgot all about her. But
+Betty took it all as bein' ashamed of her, no matter what he did; and
+for a while she just seemed to pine away under it. They'd moved to
+Washington by that time and, of course, with him in the President's
+Cabinet, it was pretty hard for her.
+
+"Then, all of a sudden, she took a new turn and begun to study and to
+try to learn things--everything: how to talk and dress and act, besides
+stuff that was just book-learnin'. She's been doin' that for quite a
+spell and Mary says she thinks she'd do pretty well now, in lots of
+ways, if only she had half a chance--somethin' to encourage her, you
+know. But her husband don't seem to take no notice, now, just as if he's
+got tired expectin' anythin' of her and that's made her so scared and
+discouraged she's too nervous to act as if she <i>did</i> know anythin'.
+An' there 't is.
+
+"Well, maybe she is just an ordinary woman," sighed the old man, a
+little sternly, "if bein' 'ordinary' means she's like lots of others.
+For I suspect, stranger, that, if the truth was told, lots of other big
+men have got wives just like her--women what have been workin' so tarnal
+hard to help their husbands get ahead that they hain't had time to see
+where they themselves was goin'. And by and by they wake up to the fact
+that they hain't got nowhere. They've just stayed still, 'way behind.
+
+"Mary says she don't believe Betty would mind even that, if her husband
+only seemed to care--to--to understand, you know, how it had been with
+her and how--Crickey! I guess they've come," broke off the old man
+suddenly, craning his neck for a better view of the door.
+
+From outside had sounded the honk of an automobile horn and the wild
+cheering of men and boys. A few minutes later the long-delayed programme
+began.
+
+It was the usual thing. Before the Speaker of the Day came other
+speakers, and each of them, no matter what his subject, failed not to
+refer to "our illustrious fellow townsman" in terms of highest eulogy.
+One told of his humble birth, his poverty-driven boyhood, his strenuous
+youth. Another drew a vivid picture of his rise to fame. A third dilated
+upon the extraordinary qualities of brain and body which had made such
+achievement possible and which would one day land him in the White House
+itself.
+
+Meanwhile, close to the speaker's stand sat the Honorable Jonas
+Whitermore himself, for the most part grim and motionless, though I
+thought I detected once or twice a repetition of the half-troubled,
+half-questioning glances directed toward his wife that I had seen
+before. Perhaps it was because I was watching him so closely that I saw
+the sudden change come to his face. The lips lost their perfunctory
+smile and settled into determined lines. The eyes, under their shaggy
+brows, glowed with sudden fire. The entire pose and air of the man
+became curiously alert, as if with the eager impatience of one who has
+determined upon a certain course of action and is anxious only to be up
+and doing. Very soon after that he was introduced, and, amid deafening
+cheers, rose to his feet. Then, very quietly, he began to speak.
+
+We had heard he was an orator. Doubtless many of us were familiar with
+his famous nickname "Silver-tongued Joe." We had expected great things
+of him--a brilliant discourse on the tariff, perhaps, or on our foreign
+relations, or yet on the Hague Tribunal. But we got none of these. We
+got first a few quiet words of thanks and appreciation for the welcome
+extended him; then we got the picture of an everyday home just like
+ours, with all its petty cares and joys so vividly drawn that we thought
+we were seeing it, not hearing about it. He told us it was a little home
+of forty years ago, and we began to realize, some way, that he was
+speaking of himself.
+
+"I may, you know, here," he said, "for I am among my own people. I am at
+home."
+
+Even then I didn't see what he was coming to. Like the rest I sat
+slightly confused, wondering what it all meant. Then, suddenly, into his
+voice there crept a tense something that made me sit more erect in my
+seat.
+
+"<i>My</i> indomitable will-power? <i>My</i> superb courage? <i>My</i>
+stupendous strength of character? <i>My</i> undaunted persistence and
+marvelous capacity for hard work?" he was saying. "Do you think it's to
+that I owe what I am? Never! Come back with me to that little home of
+forty years ago and I'll show you to what and to whom I do owe it. First
+and foremost I owe it to a woman--no ordinary woman, I want you to
+understand--but to the most wonderful woman in the world."
+
+I knew then. So did my neighbor, the old man at my side. He jogged my
+elbow frantically and whispered:--
+
+"He's goin' to--he's goin' to! He's goin' to show her he <i>does</i>
+care and understand! He <i>did</i> hear that girl. Crickey! But ain't he
+the cute one to pay her back like that, for what she said?"
+
+The little wife down front did not know--yet, however. I realized that,
+the minute I looked at her and saw her drawn face and her frightened,
+staring eyes fixed on her husband up there on the platform--her husband,
+who was going to tell all these people about some wonderful woman whom
+even she had never heard of before, but who had been the making of him,
+it seemed.
+
+"<i>My</i> will-power?" the Honorable Jonas Whitermore was saying then.
+"Not mine, but the will-power of a woman who did not know the meaning of
+the word 'fail.' Not my superb courage, but the courage of one who, day
+in and day out, could work for a victory whose crown was to go, not to
+herself, but to another. Not my stupendous strength of character, but
+that of a beautiful young girl who could see youth and beauty and
+opportunity nod farewell, and yet smile as she saw them go. Not my
+undaunted persistence, but the persistence of one to whom the goal is
+always just ahead, but never reached. And last, not my marvelous
+capacity for hard work, but that of the wife and mother who bends her
+back each morning to a multitude of tasks and cares that she knows night
+will only interrupt--not finish."
+
+My eyes were still on the little brown-clad woman down in front, so I
+saw the change come to her face as her husband talked. I saw the terror
+give way to puzzled questioning, and that, in turn, become surprise,
+incredulity, then overwhelming joy as the full meaning came to her that
+she herself was that most wonderful woman in the world who had been the
+making of him. I looked then for just a touch of the old frightened,
+self-consciousness at finding herself thus so conspicuous; but it did
+not come. The little woman plainly had forgotten us. She was no longer
+Mrs. Jonas Whitermore among a crowd of strangers listening to a great
+man's Old-Home-Day speech. She was just a loving, heart-hungry, tired,
+all-but-discouraged wife hearing for the first time from the lips of her
+husband that he knew and cared and understood.
+
+"Through storm and sunshine, she was always there at her post, aiding,
+encouraging, that I might be helped," the Honorable Jonas Whitermore was
+saying. "Week in and week out she fought poverty, sickness, and
+disappointments, and all without a murmur, lest her complaints distract
+me for one precious moment from my work. Even the nights brought her no
+rest, for while I slept, she stole from cot to cradle and from cradle to
+crib, covering outflung little legs and arms, cooling parched little
+throats with water, quieting fretful whimpers and hushing threatening
+outcries with a low 'Hush, darling, mother's here. Don't cry! You'll
+wake father--and father must have his sleep.' And father had it--that
+sleep, just as he had the best of everything else in the house: food,
+clothing, care, attention--everything.
+
+"What mattered it if her hands did grow rough and toil-worn? Mine were
+left white and smooth--for my work. What mattered it if her back and her
+head and her feet did ache? Mine were left strong and painless--for my
+work. What mattered her wakefulness if I slept? What mattered her
+weariness if I was rested? What mattered her disappointments if my aims
+were accomplished? Nothing!"
+
+The Honorable Jonas Whitermore paused for breath, and I caught mine and
+held it. It seemed, for a minute, as if everybody all over the house was
+doing the same thing, too, so absolutely still was it, after that one
+word--"nothing." They were beginning to understand--a little. I could
+tell that. They were beginning to see this big thing that was taking
+place right before their eyes. I glanced at the little woman down in
+front. The tender glow on her face had grown and deepened and broadened
+until her whole little brown-clad self seemed transfigured. My own eyes
+dimmed as I looked. Then, suddenly I became aware that the Honorable
+Jonas Whitermore was speaking again.
+
+"And not for one year only, nor two, nor ten, has this quintessence of
+devotion been mine," he was saying, "but for twice ten and then a score
+more--for forty years. For forty years! Did you ever stop to think how
+long forty years could be--forty years of striving and straining, of
+pinching and economizing, of serving and sacrificing? Forty years of
+just loving somebody else better than yourself, and doing this every
+day, and every hour of the day for the whole of those long forty years?
+It isn't easy to love somebody else <i>always</i> better than yourself,
+you know! It means the giving up of lots of things that <i>you</i> want.
+You might do it for a day, for a month, for a year even--but for forty
+years! Yet she has done it--that most wonderful woman. Do you wonder
+that I say it is to her, and to her alone, under God, that I owe all
+that I am, all that I hope to be?"
+
+Once more he paused. Then, in a voice that shook a little at the first,
+but that rang out clear and strong and powerful at the end, he said:
+
+"Ladies, gentlemen, I understand this will close your programme. It will
+give me great pleasure, therefore, if at the adjournment of this meeting
+you will allow me to present you to the most wonderful woman in the
+world--my wife."
+
+I wish I could tell you what happened then. The words--oh, yes, I could
+tell you in words what happened. For that matter, the reporters at the
+little stand down in front told it in words, and the press of the whole
+country blazoned it forth on the front page the next morning. But really
+to know what happened, you should have heard it and seen it, and felt
+the tremendous power of it deep in your soul, as we did who did see it.
+
+There was a moment's breathless hush, then to the canvas roof there rose
+a mighty cheer and a thunderous clapping of hands as by common impulse
+the entire audience leaped to its feet.
+
+For one moment only did I catch a glimpse of Mrs. Jonas Whitermore,
+blushing, laughing, and wiping teary eyes in which the wondrous glow
+still lingered; then the eager crowd swept down the aisle toward her.
+
+"Crickey!" breathed the red-faced old man at my side. "Well, stranger,
+even if it does seem sometimes as if the good Lord give some folks
+tongues and forgot to give 'em brains to run 'em with, I guess maybe He
+kinder makes up for it, once in a while, by givin' other folks the
+brains to use their tongues so powerful well!"
+
+I nodded dumbly. I could not speak just then--but the young woman in
+front of me could. Very distinctly as I passed her I heard her say:
+
+"Well, now, ain't that the limit, Sue? And her such an ordinary woman,
+too!"
+
+
+
+
+The Price of a Pair of Shoes
+
+
+
+For fifty years the meadow lot had been mowed and the side hill ploughed
+at the nod of Jeremiah's head; and for the same fifty years the plums
+had been preserved and the mince-meat chopped at the nod of his wife's--
+and now the whole farm from the meadowlot to the mince-meat was to pass
+into the hands of William, the only son, and William's wife, Sarah
+Ellen.
+
+"It'll be so much nicer, mother,--no care for you!" Sarah Ellen had
+declared.
+
+"And so much easier for you, father, too," William had added. "It's time
+you rested. As for money--of course you'll have plenty in the savings-
+bank for clothes and such things. You won't need much, anyhow," he
+finished, "for you'll get your living off the farm just as you always
+have."
+
+So the matter was settled, and the papers were made out. There was no
+one to be considered, after all, but themselves, for William was the
+only living son, and there had been no daughters.
+
+For a time it was delightful. Jeremiah and Hester Whipple were like
+children let out of school. They told themselves that they were people
+of leisure now, and they forced themselves to lie abed half an hour
+later than usual each day. They spent long hours in the attic looking
+over old treasures, and they loitered about the garden and the barn with
+no fear that it might be time to get dinner or to feed the stock.
+
+Gradually, however, there came a change. A new restlessness entered
+their lives, a restlessness that speedily became the worst kind of
+homesickness--the homesickness of one who is already at home.
+
+The extra half-hour was spent in bed as before--but now Hester lay with
+one ear listening to make sure that Sarah Ellen <i>did</i> let the cat
+in for her early breakfast; and Jeremiah lay with his ear listening for
+the squeak of the barn door which would tell him whether William was
+early or, late that morning. There were the same long hours in the attic
+and the garden, too--but in the attic Hester discovered her treasured
+wax wreath (late of the parlor wall); and in the garden Jeremiah found
+more weeds than <i>he</i> had ever allowed to grow there, he was sure.
+
+The farm had been in the hands of William and Sarah Ellen just six
+months when the Huntersville Savings Bank closed its doors. It was the
+old story of dishonesty and disaster, and when the smoke of Treasurer
+Hilton's revolver cleared away there was found to be practically nothing
+for the depositors. Perhaps on no one did the blow fall with more
+staggering force than on Jeremiah Whipple.
+
+"Why, Hester," he moaned, when he found himself alone with his wife,
+"here I'm seventy-eight years old--an' no money! What am I goin' ter
+do?"
+
+"I know, dear," soothed Hester; "but 't ain't as bad for us as 'tis for
+some. We've got the farm, you know; an'--"
+
+"We hain't got the farm," cut in her husband sharply. "William an' Sarah
+Ellen's got it."
+
+"Yes, I know, but they--why, they're <i>us</i>, Jeremiah," reminded
+Hester, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice.
+
+"Mebbe, Hester, mebbe," conceded Jeremiah; but he turned and looked out
+of the window with gloomy eyes.
+
+There came a letter to the farmhouse soon after this from Nathan Banks,
+a favorite nephew, suggesting that "uncle and aunt" pay them a little
+visit.
+
+"Just the thing, father!" cried William. "Go--it'll do you both good!"
+And after some little talk it was decided that the invitation should be
+accepted.
+
+Nathan Banks lived thirty miles away, but not until the night before the
+Whipples were to start did it suddenly occur to Jeremiah that he had now
+no money for railroad tickets. With a heightened color on his old cheeks
+he mentioned the fact to William.
+
+"Ye see, I--I s'pose I'll have ter come ter you," he apologized. "Them
+won't take us!" And he looked ruefully at a few coins he had pulled from
+his pocket. "They're all the cash I've got left."
+
+William frowned a little and stroked his beard.
+
+"Sure enough!" he muttered. "I forgot the tickets, too, father. 'T is
+awkward--that bank blowing up; isn't it? Oh, I'll let you have it all
+right, of course, and glad to, only it so happens that just now I--er,
+how much is it, anyway?" he broke off abruptly.
+
+"Why, I reckon a couple of dollars'll take us down, an' more, mebbe,"
+stammered the old man, "only, of course, there's comin' back, and--"
+
+"Oh, we don't have to reckon on that part now," interrupted William
+impatiently, as he thrust his hands into his pockets and brought out a
+bill and some change. "I can send you down some more when that time
+comes. There, here's a two; if it doesn't take it all, what's left can
+go toward bringing you back."
+
+And he handed out the bill, and dropped the change into his pocket.
+
+"Thank you, William," stammered the old man. "I--I'm sorry--"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," cut in William cheerfully, with a wave of his
+two hands. "Glad to do it, father; glad to do it!"
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Whipple stayed some weeks with their nephew. But, much as
+they enjoyed their visit, there came a day when home--regardless of
+weeds that were present and wax wreaths that were absent--seemed to them
+the one place in the world; and they would have gone there at once had
+it not been for the railroad fares.
+
+William had not sent down any more money, though his letters had been
+kind, and had always spoken of the warm welcome that awaited them any
+time they wished to come home.
+
+Toward the end of the fifth week a bright idea came to Jeremiah.
+
+"We'll go to Cousin Abby's," he announced gleefully to his wife. "Nathan
+said last night he'd drive us over there any time. We'll go to-morrow,
+an' we won't come back here at all--it'll be ten miles nearer home
+there, an' it won't cost us a cent ter get there," he finished
+triumphantly. And to Cousin Abby's they went.
+
+So elated was Jeremiah with the result of his scheming that he set his
+wits to work in good earnest, and in less than a week he had formulated
+an itinerary that embraced the homes of two other cousins, an aunt of
+Sarah Ellen's, and the niece of a brother-in-law, the latter being only
+three miles from 'his own farmhouse--or rather William's farmhouse, as
+he corrected himself bitterly. Before another month had passed, the
+round of visits was accomplished, and the little old man and the little
+old woman--having been carried to their destination in each case by
+their latest host--finally arrived at the farmhouse door. They were
+weary, penniless, and half-sick from being feasted and fêted at every
+turn, but they were blissfully conscious that of no one had they been
+obliged to beg the price of their journey home.
+
+"We didn't write we were comin'," apologized Jeremiah faintly, as he
+stumbled across the threshold and dropped into the nearest chair. "We
+were goin' ter write from Keziah's, but we were so tired we hurried
+right up an' come home. 'Tis nice ter get here; ain't it, Hester?" he
+finished, settling back in his chair.
+
+"'Nice'!" cried Hester tremulously, tugging at her bonnet strings.
+"'Nice' ain't no name for it, Jeremiah. Why, Sarah Ellen, seems if I
+don't want to do nothin' for a whole month but set in my own room an'
+jest look 'round all day!"
+
+"You poor dear--and that's all you shall do!" soothed Sarah Ellen; and
+Hester sighed, content. For so many, many weeks now she had sat upon
+strange chairs and looked out upon an unfamiliar world!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was midwinter when Jeremiah's last pair of shoes gave out. "An' there
+ain't a cent ter get any new ones, Hester," he exclaimed, ruefully eying
+the ominously thin place in the sole.
+
+"I know, Jeremiah, but there's William," murmured Hester. "I'm sure he--"
+
+"Oh, of course, he'd give it to me," cried Jeremiah quickly; "but--I--I
+sort of hate to ask."
+
+"Pooh! I wouldn't think of that," declared Hester stoutly, but even as
+she spoke, she tucked her own feet farther under her chair. "We gave
+them the farm, and they understood they was to take care of us, of
+course."
+
+"Hm-m, yes, I know, I know. I'll ask him," murmured Jeremiah--but he did
+not ask him until the ominously thin place in the sole had become a
+hole, large, round, and unmistakable.
+
+"Well, William," he began jocosely, trying to steady his shaking voice,
+"guess them won't stand for it much longer!" And he held up the shoe,
+sole uppermost.
+
+"Well, I should say not!" laughed William; then his face changed. "Oh,
+and you'll have to have the money for some new ones, of course. By
+George! It does beat all how I keep forgetting about that bank!"
+
+"I know, William, I'm sorry," stammered the old man miserably.
+
+"Oh, I can let you have it all right, father, and glad to," assured
+William, still frowning. "It's only that just at this time I'm a little
+short, and--" He stopped abruptly and thrust his hands into his pockets.
+"Hm-m," he vouchsafed after a minute. "Well, I'll tell you what--I
+haven't got any now, but in a day or two I'll take you over to the
+village and see what Skinner's got that will fit you. Oh, we'll have
+some shoes, father, never fear!" he laughed. "You don't suppose I'm
+going to let my father go barefoot!--eh?" And he laughed again.
+
+Things wore out that winter in the most unaccountable fashion--at least
+those belonging to Jeremiah and Hester did, especially undergarments.
+One by one they came to mending, and one by one Hester mended them,
+patch upon patch, until sometimes there was left scarcely a thread of
+the original garment. Once she asked William for money to buy new ones,
+but it happened that William was again short, and though the money she
+had asked for came later, Hester did not make that same request again.
+
+There were two things that Hester could not patch very successfully--her
+shoes. She fried to patch them to be sure, but the coarse thread knotted
+in her shaking old hands, and the bits of leather--cut from still older
+shoes--slipped about and left her poor old thumb exposed to the sharp
+prick of the needle, so that she finally gave it up in despair. She
+tucked her feet still farther under her chair these days when Jeremiah
+was near, and she pieced down two of her dress skirts so that they might
+touch the floor all round. In spite of all this, however, Jeremiah saw,
+one day--and understood.
+
+"Hester," he cried sharply, "put out your foot."
+
+Hester did not hear--apparently. She lowered the paper she was reading
+and laughed a little hysterically.
+
+"Such a good joke, Jeremiah!" she quavered. "Just let me read it. A man--"
+
+"Hester, be them the best shoes you've got?" demanded Jeremiah.
+
+And Hester, with a wisdom born of fifty years' experience of that
+particular tone of voice, dropped her paper and her subterfuge, and said
+gently: "Yes, Jeremiah."
+
+There was a moment's pause; then Jeremiah sprang to his feet, thrust his
+hands into his pockets, and paced the tiny bedroom from end to end.
+
+"Hester, this thing's a-killin' me!" he blurted out at last. "Here I'm
+seventy-eight years old--an' I hain't got money enough ter buy my wife a
+pair of shoes!"
+
+"But the farm, Jeremiah--"
+
+"I tell ye the farm ain't mine," cut in Jeremiah savagely. "Look a-here,
+Hester, how do you s'pose it feels to a man who's paid his own way since
+he was a boy, bought a farm with his own money an' run it, brought up
+his boys an' edyercated 'em--how do ye s'pose it feels fur that man ter
+go ter his own son an' say: 'Please, sir, can't I have a nickel ter buy
+me a pair o' shoestrings?' How do ye s'pose it feels? I tell ye, Hester,
+I can't stand it--I jest can't! I'm goin' ter work."
+
+"Jere-mi-ah!"
+
+"Well, I am," repeated the old man doggedly. "You're goin' ter have some
+shoes, an' I'm goin' ter earn 'em. See if I don't!" And he squared his
+shoulders, and straightened his bent back as if already he felt the
+weight of a welcome burden.
+
+Spring came, and with it long sunny days and the smell of green things
+growing. Jeremiah began to be absent day after day from the farmhouse.
+The few tasks that he performed each morning were soon finished, and
+after that he disappeared, not to return until night. William wondered a
+little, but said nothing. Other and more important matters filled his
+mind.
+
+Only Hester noticed that the old man's step grew more languid and his
+eye more dull; and only Hester knew that at night he was sometimes too
+tired to sleep--that he could not "seem ter hit the bed," as he
+expressed it.
+
+It was at about this time that Hester began to make frequent visits to
+the half-dozen farmhouses in the settlement about them. She began to be
+wonderfully busy these days, too, knitting socks and mittens, or piecing
+up quilts. Sarah Ellen asked her sometimes what she was doing, but
+Hester's answers were always so cheery and bright that Sarah Ellen did
+not realize that the point was always evaded and the subject changed.
+
+It was in May that the inevitable happened. William came home one day to
+find an excited, weeping wife who hurried him into the seclusion of
+their own room.
+
+"William, William," she moaned, "what shall we do? It's father and
+mother; they've--oh, William, how can I tell you!" and she covered her
+face with her hands.
+
+William paled under his coat of tan. He gripped his wife's arm with
+fingers that hurt.
+
+"What is it--what's happened?" he asked hoarsely. "They aren't hurt or--
+dead?"
+
+"No, no," choked Sarah Ellen. "I didn't mean to frighten you. They're
+all right that way. They--they've <i>gone to work</i>! William, what
+<i>shall</i> we do?"
+
+Again William Whipple gripped his wife's arm with fingers that hurt.
+
+"Sarah Ellen, quit that crying, for Heaven's sake! What does this mean?
+What are you talking about?" he demanded.
+
+Sarah Ellen sopped her eyes with her handkerchief and lifted her head.
+
+"It was this morning. I was over to Maria Weston's," she explained
+brokenly. "Maria dropped something about a quilt mother was piecing for
+her, and when I asked her what in the world she meant, she looked queer,
+and said she supposed I knew. Then she tried to change the subject; but
+I wouldn't let her, and finally I got the whole story out of her."
+
+"Yes, yes, go on," urged William impatiently, as Sarah Ellen paused for
+breath.
+
+"It seems mother came to her a while ago, and--and she went to others,
+too. She asked if there wasn't some knitting or patchwork she could do
+for them. She said she--she wanted to earn some money." Sarah Ellen's
+voice broke over the last word, and William muttered something under his
+breath. "She said they'd lost all they had in the bank," went on Sarah
+Ellen hurriedly, "and that they didn't like to ask you for money."
+
+"Why, I always let them have--" began William defensively; then he
+stopped short, a slow red staining his face.
+
+"Yes, I know you have," interposed Sarah Ellen eagerly; "and I said so
+to Maria. But mother had already told her that, it seems. She said that
+mother said you were always glad to give it to them when they asked for
+it, but that it hurt father's pride to beg, so he'd gone to work to earn
+some of his own."
+
+"Father!" exclaimed William. "But I thought you said 'twas mother.
+Surely father isn't knitting socks and mittens, is he?"
+
+"No, no," cried Sarah Ellen. "I'm coming to that as fast as I can. You
+see, 'twas father who went to work first. He's been doing all sorts of
+little odd jobs, even to staying with the Snow children while their
+folks went to town, and spading up Nancy Howe's flower beds for her. But
+it's been wearing on him, and he was getting all tired out. Only think
+of it, William--<i>working out--father and mother!</i> I just can't ever
+hold up my head again! What <i>shall</i> we do?"
+
+"Do? Why, we'll stop it, of course," declared William savagely. "I guess
+I can support my own father and mother without their working for a
+living!"
+
+"But it's money, William, that they want. Don't you see?"
+
+"Well, we'll give them money, then. I always have, anyway,--when they
+asked for it," finished William in an aggrieved voice.
+
+Sarah Ellen shook her head.
+
+"It won't do," she sighed. "It might have done once--but not now.
+They've got to the point where they just can't accept money doled out to
+them like that. Why, just think, 't was all theirs once!"
+
+"Well, 'tis now--in a way."
+
+"I know--but we haven't acted as if it were. I can see that now, when
+it's too late."
+
+"We'll give it back, then," cried William, his face clearing; "the whole
+blamed farm!"
+
+Sarah Ellen frowned. She shook her head slowly, then paused, a dawning
+question in her eyes.
+
+"You don't suppose--William, could we?" she cried with sudden eagerness.
+
+"Well, we can try mighty hard," retorted the man grimly. "But we've got
+to go easy, Sarah Ellen,--no bungling. We've got to spin some sort of a
+yarn that won't break, nor have any weak places; and of course, as far
+as the real work of the farm is concerned, we'll still do the most of
+it. But the place'll be theirs. See?--theirs! <i>Working out</i>--good
+Heavens!"
+
+It must have been a week later that Jeremiah burst into his wife's room.
+Hester sat by the window, bending over numberless scraps of blue, red,
+and pink calico.
+
+"Put it up, put it up, Hester," he panted joyously. "Ye hain't got to
+sew no more, an' I hain't neither. The farm is ours!"
+
+"Why, Jeremiah, what--how--"
+
+"I don't know, Hester, no more than you do," laughed Jeremiah happily;
+"only William says he's tired of runnin' things all alone, an' he wants
+me to take hold again. They're goin' ter make out the papers right away;
+an' say, Hester,"--the bent shoulders drew themselves erect with an air
+of pride,--"I thought mebbe this afternoon we'd drive over ter
+Huntersville an' get some shoes for you. Ye know you're always needin'
+shoes!"
+
+
+
+
+The Long Road
+
+
+
+"Jane!"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"Is the house locked up?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are ye sure, now?"
+
+"Why, yes, dear; I just did it."
+
+"Well, won't ye see?"
+
+"But I have seen, father." Jane did not often make so many words about
+this little matter, but she was particularly tired to-night.
+
+The old man fell back wearily.
+
+"Seems ter me, Jane, ye might jest see," he fretted. "'T ain't much I'm
+askin' of ye, an' ye know them spoons--"
+
+"Yes, yes, dear, I'll go," interrupted the woman hurriedly.
+
+"And, Jane!"
+
+"Yes." The woman turned and waited. She knew quite well what was coming,
+but it was the very exquisiteness of her patient care that allowed her
+to give no sign that she had waited in that same spot to hear those same
+words every night for long years past.
+
+"An' ye might count 'em--them spoons," said the old man.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"An' the forks."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"An' them photygraph pictures in the parlor."
+
+"All right, father." The woman turned away. Her step was slow, but
+confident--the last word had been said.
+
+To Jane Pendergast her father had gone with the going of his keen, clear
+mind, twenty years before. This fretful, childish, exacting old man that
+pottered about the house all day was but the shell that had held the
+kernel--the casket that had held the jewel. But because of what it had
+held, Jane guarded it tenderly, laying at its feet her life as a willing
+sacrifice.
+
+There had been four children: Edgar, the eldest; Jane, Mary, and Fred.
+Edgar had left home early, and was a successful business man in Boston.
+Mary had married a wealthy lawyer of the same city; and Fred had opened
+a real estate office in a thriving Southern town.
+
+Jane had stayed at home. There had been a time, it is true, when she had
+planned to go away to school; but the death of Mrs. Pendergast left no
+one at home to care for Mary and Fred, so Jane had abandoned the idea.
+Later, after Mary had married and Fred had gone away, there was still
+her father to be cared for, though at this time he was well and strong.
+
+Jane had passed her thirty-fifth birthday, when she became palpitatingly
+aware of a pair of blue-gray eyes, and a determined, smooth-shaven chin
+belonging to the recently arrived principal of the village school. In
+spite of her stern admonition to herself to remember her years and not
+quite lose her head, she was fast drifting into a rosy dream of romance
+that was all the more enthralling because so belated, when the summons
+of a small boy brought her sharply back to the realities.
+
+"It's yer father, miss. They want ye ter come," he panted. "Somethin'
+has took him. He's in Mackey's drug store, talkin' awful queer. He ain't
+his self, ye know. They thought maybe you could--do somethin'."
+
+Jane went at once--but she could do nothing except to lead gently home
+the chattering, shifting-eyed thing that had once been her father. One
+after another the village physicians shook their heads--they could do
+nothing. Skilled alienists from the city--they, too, could do nothing.
+There was nothing that could be done, they said, except to care for him
+as one would for a child. He would live years, probably. His
+constitution was wonderfully good. He would not be violent--just foolish
+and childish, with perhaps a growing irritability as the years passed
+and his physical strength failed.
+
+Mary and Edgar had come home at once. Mary had stayed two days and Edgar
+five hours. They were shocked and dismayed at their father's condition.
+So overwhelmed with grief were they, indeed, that they fled from the
+room almost immediately upon seeing him, and Edgar took the first train
+out of town.
+
+Mary, shiveringly, crept from room to room, trying to find a place where
+the cackling laugh and the fretful voice would not reach her. But the
+old man, like a child with a new toy, was pleased at his daughter's
+arrival, and followed her about the house with unfailing persistence.
+
+"But, Mary, he won't hurt you. Why do you run?" remonstrated Jane.
+
+Mary shuddered and covered her face with her hands.
+
+"Jane, Jane, how can you take it so calmly!" she moaned. "How can you
+bear it?"
+
+There was a moment's pause. A curious expression had come to Jane's
+face.
+
+"Some one--has to," she said at last, quietly.
+
+Jane went down to the village the next afternoon, leaving her sister in
+charge at home. When she returned, an hour later, Mary met her at the
+gate, crying and wringing her hands.
+
+"Jane, Jane, I thought you would never come! I can't do a thing with
+him. He insists that he isn't at home, and that he wants to go there. I
+told him, over and over again, that he <i>was</i> at home already, but
+it didn't do a bit of good. I've had a perfectly awful time."
+
+"Yes, I know. Where is he?"
+
+"In the kitchen. I--I tied him. He just would go, and I couldn't hold
+him."
+
+"Oh, <i>Mary!</i>" And Jane fairly flew up the walk to the kitchen door.
+A minute later she appeared, leading an old man, who was whimpering
+pitifully.
+
+"Home, Jane. I want ter go home."
+
+"Yes, dear, I know. We'll go." And Mary watched with wondering eyes
+while the two walked down the path, through the gate and across the
+street to the next corner, then slowly crossed again and came back
+through the familiar doorway.
+
+"Home!" chuckled the old man gleefully.
+
+"We've come home!"
+
+Mary went back to Boston the next day. She said it was fortunate,
+indeed, that Jane's nerves were so strong. For her part, she could not
+have stood it another day.
+
+The days slipped into weeks, and the weeks into months. Jane took the
+entire care of her father, except that she hired a woman to come in for
+an hour or two once or twice a week, when she herself was obliged to
+leave the house.
+
+The owner of the blue-gray eyes did not belie the determination of his
+chin, but made a valiant effort to establish himself on the basis of the
+old intimacy; but Miss Pendergast held herself sternly aloof, and
+refused to listen to him. In a year he had left town--but it was not his
+fault that he was obliged to go away alone, as Jane Pendergast well
+knew.
+
+One by one the years passed. Twenty had gone by now since the small boy
+came with his fateful summons that June day. Jane was fifty-five now, a
+thin-faced, stoop-shouldered, tired woman--but a woman to whom release
+from this constant care was soon to come, for she was not yet fifty-six
+when her father died.
+
+All the children and some of the grandchildren came to the funeral. In
+the evening the family, with the exception of Jane, gathered in the
+sitting-room and discussed the future, while upstairs the woman whose
+fate was most concerned laid herself wearily in bed with almost a pang
+that she need not now first be doubly sure that doors were locked and
+spoons were counted.
+
+In the sitting-room below, discussion waxed warm.
+
+"But what shall we do with her?" demanded Mary. "I had meant to give her
+my share of the property," she added with an air of great generosity,
+"but it seems there's nothing to give."
+
+"No, there's nothing to give," returned Edgar. "The house had to be
+mortgaged long ago to pay their living expenses, and it will have to be
+sold."
+
+"But she's got to live somewhere!" Mary's voice was fretful,
+questioning.
+
+For a moment there was silence; then Edgar stirrad in his chair.
+
+"Well, why can't she go to you, Mary?" he asked.
+
+"Me!" Mary almost screamed the word.
+
+"Why, Edgar!--when you know how much I have on my hands with my great
+house and all my social duties, to say nothing of Belle's engagement!"
+
+"Well, maybe Jane could help."
+
+"Help! How. pray?--to entertain my guests?" And even Edgar smiled as he
+thought of Jane, in her five-year-old bonnet and her ten-year-old black
+gown, standing in the receiving line at an exclusive Commonwealth Avenue
+reception.
+
+"Well, but--" Edgar paused impotently.
+
+"Why don't you take her?" It was Mary who made the suggestion.
+
+"I? Oh, but I--" Edgar stopped and glanced uneasily at his wife.
+
+"Why, of course, if it's <i>necessary</i>," murmured Mrs. Edgar, with a
+resigned air. "I should certainly never wish it said that I refused a
+home to any of my husband's poor relations."
+
+"Oh, good Heavens! Let her come to us," cut in Fred sharply. "I reckon
+we can take care of our 'poor relations' for a spell yet; eh, Sally?"
+
+"Why, sure we can," retorted. Fred's wife, in her soft Southern drawl.
+"We'll be right glad to take her, I reckon." And there the matter
+ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jane Pendergast had been South two months, when one day Edgar received a
+letter from his brother Fred.
+
+Jane's going North [wrote Fred]. Sally says she can't have her in the
+house another week. 'Course, we don't want to tell Jane exactly that--
+but we've fixed it so she's going to leave.
+
+I'm sorry if this move causes you folks any trouble, but there just
+wasn't any other way out of it. You see, Sally is Southern and easy-
+going, and I suppose not over-particular in the eyes of you stiff
+Northerners. I don't mind things, either, and I suppose I'm easy, too.
+
+Well, great Scott!--Jane hadn't been down here five minutes before she
+began to "slick up," as she called it--and she's been "slickin' up" ever
+since. Sally always left things round handy, and so've the children; but
+since Jane came, we haven't been able to find a thing when we wanted it.
+All our boots and shoes are put away, turned toes out, and all our hats
+and coats are snatched up and hung on pegs the minute we toss them off.
+
+Maybe this don't seem much to you, but it's lots to us. Anyhow, Jane's
+going North. She says she's going to visit Edgar a little while, and I
+told her I'd write and tell you she's coming. She'll be there about the
+2Oth. Will wire you what train.
+
+Your affectionate brother
+
+FRED
+
+As gently as possible Edgar broke to his wife the news of the
+prospective guest. Julia Pendergast was a good woman. At least she often
+said that she was, adding, at the same time, that she never knowingly
+refused to do her duty. She said the same thing now to her husband, and
+she immediately made some very elaborate and very apparent changes in
+her home and in her plans, all with an eye to the expected guest. At
+four o'clock Wednesday afternoon Edgar met his sister at the station.
+
+"Well, I don't see as you've changed much," he said kindly.
+
+"Haven't I? Why, seems as if I must look changed a lot," chirruped Jane.
+"I'm so rested, and Fred and Sally were so good to me! Why, they tried
+not to have me do a thing--and I didn't do much, only a little puttering
+around just to help out with the work."
+
+"Hm-m," murmured Edgar. "Well, I'm glad to see you're--rested."
+
+Julia met them in the hall of the beautiful Brookline residence. Lined
+up with her were the four younger children, who lived at home. They made
+an imposing array, and Jane was visibly affected.
+
+"Oh, it's so good of you--to meet me--like this!" she faltered.
+
+"Why, we wished to, I'm sure," returned Mrs. Pendergast, with a half-
+stifled sigh. "I hope I understand my duty to my guest and my sister-in-
+law sufficiently to know what is her due. I did not allow anything--not
+even my committee meeting to-day--to interfere with this call for duty
+at home."
+
+Jane fell back. All the glow fled from her face.
+
+"Oh, then you did stay at home--and for me! I'm so sorry," she
+stammered.
+
+But Mrs. Pendergast raised a deprecatory hand.
+
+"Say no more. It was nothing. Now come, let me show you to your room.
+I've given you Ella's room, and put Ella in Tom's, and Tom in Bert's,
+and moved Bert upstairs to the little room over--"
+
+"Oh, don't!" interrupted Jane, in quick distress. "I don't want to put
+people out so! Let me go upstairs." Mrs. Pendergast frowned and sighed.
+She had the air of one whose kindest efforts are misunderstood.
+
+"My dear Jane, I am sorry, but I shall have to ask you to be as
+satisfied as you can be with the arrangements I am able to make for you.
+You see, even though this house is large, I am, in a way, cramped for
+room. I always have to keep three guest-rooms ready for immediate
+occupancy. I am a member of four clubs and six charitable and religious
+organizations, besides the church, and there are always ministers and
+delegates whom I feel it my duty to entertain."
+
+"But that is all the more reason why I should go upstairs, and not put
+all those children out of their rooms," begged Jane.
+
+Mrs. Pendergast shook her head.
+
+"It does them good," she said decidely, "to learn to be self-
+sacrificing. That is a virtue we all must learn to practice."
+
+Jane flushed again; then she turned abruptly. "Julia, did you want me
+to--to come to see you?" she asked.
+
+"Why, certainly; what a question!" returned Mrs. Pendergast, in a
+properly shocked tone of voice. "As if I could do otherwise than to want
+my husband's sister to come to us."
+
+Jane smiled faintly, but her eyes were troubled.
+
+"Thank you; I'm glad you feel--that way. You see, at Fred's--I wouldn't
+have them know it for the world, they were <i>so</i> good to me--but I
+thought, lately, that maybe they didn't want--But it wasn't so, of
+course. It couldn't have been. I--I ought not even to think it."
+
+"Hm-m; no," returned Mrs. Pendergast, with noncommittal briefness.
+
+Not six weeks later Mary, in her beautiful Commonwealth Avenue home,
+received a call from a little, thin-faced woman, who curtsied to the
+butler and asked him to please tell her sister that she wished to speak
+to her.
+
+Mary looked worried and not over-cordial when she rustled into the room.
+
+"Why, Jane, did you find your way here all alone?" she cried.
+
+"Yes--no--well, I asked a man at the last; but, you know, I've been here
+twice before with the others."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Mary.
+
+There was a pause; then Jane cleared her throat timidly.
+
+"Mary, I--I've been thinking. You see, just as soon as I'm strong
+enough, I--I'm going to take care of myself, and then I won't be a
+burden to--to anybody." Jane was talking very fast now. Her words came
+tremulously between short, broken breaths. "But until I get well enough
+to earn money, I can't, you see. And I've been thinking;--would you be
+willing to take me until--until I can? I'm lots better, already, and
+getting stronger every day. It wouldn't be for--long."
+
+"Why, of course, Jane!" Mary spoke cheerfully, and in a tone a little
+higher than her ordinary voice. "I should have asked you to come here
+before, only I feared you wouldn't be happy here--such a different life
+for you, and so much noise and confusion with Belle's wedding coming on,
+and all!"
+
+Jane gave her a grateful glance.
+
+"I know, of course,--you'd think that,--and it isn't that I'm finding
+fault with Julia and Edgar. I couldn't do that--they're so good to me.
+But, you see, I put them out so. Now, there's my room, for one thing. 'T
+was Ella's, and Ella has to keep running in for things she's left, and
+she says it's the same with the others. You see, I've got Ella's room,
+and Ella's got Tom's, and Tom's got Bert's. It's a regular 'house that
+Jack built'--and I'm the'Jack'!"
+
+"I see," laughed Mary constrainedly. "And you want to come here? Well,
+you shall. You--you may come a week from Saturday," she added, after a
+pause. "I have a reception and a dinner here the first of the week, and
+--you'd better stay away until after that."
+
+"Oh, thank you," sighed Jane. "You are so good. I shall tell Julia that
+I'm invited here, so she won't think I'm dissatisfied. They're so good
+to me--I wouldn't want to hurt their feelings!"
+
+"Of course not," murmured Mary.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The big, fat tire of the touring-car popped like a pistol shot directly
+in front of the large white house with the green blinds.
+
+"This is the time we're in luck, Belle," laughed the good-natured young
+fellow who had been driving the car. "Do you see that big piazza just
+aching for you to come and sit on it?"
+
+"Are we really stalled, Will?" asked the girl.
+
+"Looks like it--for a while. I'll have to telephone Peters to bring
+down a tire. Of course, to-day is the day we <i>didn't</i> take it!"
+
+Some minutes later the girl found herself on the cool piazza, in charge
+of a wonderfully hospitable old lady, while down the road the good-
+looking young fellow was making long strides toward the next house and a
+telephone.
+
+"We are staying at the Lindsays', in North Belton," explained the girl,
+when he was gone, "and we came out for a little spin before dinner.
+Isn't this Belton? I have an aunt who used to live here somewhere--Aunt
+Jane Pendergast"
+
+The old lady sat suddenly erect in her chair.
+
+"My dear," she cried, "you don't mean to say that you're Jane
+Pendergast's niece! Now, that is queer! Why, this was her very house--we
+bought it when the old gentleman died last year. But, come, we'll go
+inside. You'll want to see everything, of course!"
+
+It was some time before the young man came back from telephoning, and it
+was longer still before Peters came with the new tire, and helped get
+the touring-car ready for the road. The girl was very quiet when they
+finally left the house, and there was a troubled look deep in her eyes.
+
+"Why, Belle, what's the matter?" asked the young fellow concernedly, as
+he slackened speed in the cool twilight of the woods, some minutes
+later. "What's troubling you, dear?"
+
+"Will"--the girl's voice shook--"Will, that was Aunt Jane's house. That
+old lady--told me."
+
+"Aunt Jane?"
+
+"Yes, yes--the little gray-haired woman that came to live with us two
+months ago. You know her."
+
+"Why, y-yes; I think I've--seen her."
+
+The girl winced, as from a blow.
+
+"Will, don't! I can't bear it," she choked. "It only shows how we've
+treated her--how little we've made of her, when we ought to have done
+everything--everything to make her happy. Instead of that, we were
+brutes--all of us!"
+
+"Belle!"--the tone was an indignant protest.
+
+"But we were--listen! She lived in that house all her life till last
+year. She never went anywhere or did anything. For twenty years she
+lived with an old man who had lost his mind, and she tended him like a
+baby--only a baby grows older all the time and more interesting, while
+he--oh, Will, it was awful! That old lady--told me."
+
+"By Jove!" exclaimed the young fellow, under his breath.
+
+"And there were other things," hurried on the girl, tremulously. "Some
+way, I never thought of Aunt Jane only as old and timid; but she was
+young like us, once. She wanted to go away to school--but she couldn't
+go; and there was some one who--loved her--once--later, and she sent
+him--away. That was after--after grandfather lost his mind. Mother and
+Uncle Edgar and Uncle Fred--they all went away and lived their own
+lives, but she stayed on. Then last year grandfather died."
+
+The girl paused and moistened her lips. The man did not speak. His eyes
+were on the road ahead of the slow-moving car.
+
+"I heard to-day--how--how proud and happy Aunt Jane was that Uncle Fred
+had asked her to come and live with him," resumed the girl, after a
+minute. "That old lady told me how Aunt Jane talked and talked about it
+before she went away, and how she said that all her life she had taken
+care of others, and it would be so good to feel that now some one was
+going to look out for her, though, of course, she should do everything
+she could to help, and she hoped she could still be of some use."
+
+"Well, she has been, hasn't she?"
+
+The girl shook her head.
+
+"That's the worst of it. We haven't made her think she was. She stayed
+at Uncle Fred's for a while, and then he sent her to Uncle Edgar's.
+Something must have been wrong there, for she asked mother two months
+ago if she might come to us."
+
+"Well, I'm sure you've been--good to her."
+
+"But we haven't!" cried the girl. "Mother meant all right, I know, but
+she didn't think. And I've been--horrid. Aunt Jane tried to show her
+interest in my wedding plans, but I only laughed at her and said she
+wouldn't understand. We've pushed her aside, always,--we've never made
+her one of us; and--we've always made her feel her dependence."
+
+"But you'll do differently now, dear,--now that you understand."
+
+Again the girl shook her head.
+
+"We can't," she moaned. "It's too late. I had a letter from mother last
+night. Aunt Jane's sick--awfully sick. Mother said I might expect to--to
+hear of the end any day."
+
+"But there's some time left--a little!"--his voice broke and choked into
+silence. Suddenly he made a quick movement, and the car beneath them
+leaped forward like a charger that feels the prick of the spur.
+
+The girl gave a frightened cry, then a tremulous little sob of joy. The
+man had cried in her ear, in response to her questioning eyes:
+
+"We're--going--to--Aunt Jane!"
+
+And to them both, at the moment, there seemed to be waiting at the end
+of the road a little bent old woman, into whose wistful eyes they were
+to bring the light of joy and peace.
+
+
+
+
+A Couple of Capitalists
+
+
+
+On the top of the hill stood the big brick house--a mansion, compared to
+the other houses of the New England village. At the foot of the hill
+nestled the tiny brown farmhouse, half buried in lilacs, climbing roses,
+and hollyhocks.
+
+Years ago, when Reuben had first brought Emily to that little brown
+cottage, he had said to her, ruefully: "Sweetheart, 'tain't much of a
+place, I know, but we'll save and save, every cent we can get, an' by
+an' by we'll go up to live in the big house on the hill!" And he kissed
+so tenderly the pretty little woman he had married only that morning
+that she smiled brightly and declared that the small brown house was the
+very nicest place in the world.
+
+But, as time passed, the "big house" came to be the Mecca of all their
+hopes, and penny by penny the savings grew. It was slow work, though,
+and to hearts less courageous the thing would have seemed an
+impossibility. No luxuries--and scarcely the bare necessities of life--
+came to the little house under the hill, but every month a tiny sum
+found its way into the savings bank. Fortunately, air and sunshine were
+cheap, and, if inside the house there was lack of beauty and cheer,
+outside there was a riotous wealth of color and bloom--the flowers under
+Emily's loving care flourished and multiplied.
+
+The few gowns in the modest trousseau had been turned inside out and
+upside down, only to be dyed and turned and twisted all over again. But
+what was a dyed gown, when one had all that money in the bank and the
+big house on the hill in prospect! Reuben's best suit grew rusty and
+seedy, but the man patiently, even gleefully, wore it as long as it
+would hang together; and when the time came that new garments must be
+bought for both husband and wife, only the cheapest and flimsiest of
+material was purchased--but the money in the bank grew.
+
+Reuben never smoked. While other men used the fragrant weed to calm
+their weary brains and bodies, Reuben--ate peanuts. It had been a
+curious passion of his, from the time when as a boy he was first
+presented with a penny for his very own, to spend all his spare cash on
+this peculiar luxury; and the slow munching of this plebeian delicacy
+had the same soothing effect on him that a good cigar or an old clay
+pipe had upon his brother-man. But from the day of his marriage all
+this was changed; the dimes and the nickels bought no more peanuts, but
+went to swell the common fund.
+
+It is doubtful if even this heroic economy would have accomplished the
+desired end had not a certain railroad company cast envious eyes upon
+the level valley and forthwith sent long arms of steel bearing a puffing
+engine up through the quiet village. A large tract of waste land
+belonging to Reuben Gray suddenly became surprisingly valuable, and a
+sum that trebled twice over the scanty savings of years grew all in a
+night.
+
+One crisp October day, Mr. and Mrs. Reuben Gray awoke to the fact that
+they were a little under sixty years of age, and in possession of more
+than the big sum of money necessary to enable them to carry out the
+dreams of their youth. They began joyous preparations at once.
+
+The big brick house at the top of the hill had changed hands twice
+during the last forty years, and the present owner expressed himself as
+nothing loath to part, not only with the house itself, but with many of
+its furnishings; and before the winter snow fell the little brown
+cottage was sold to a thrifty young couple from the neighboring village,
+and the Grays took up their abode in their new home.
+
+"Well, Em'ly, this is livin', now, ain't it?" said Reuben, as he
+carefully let himself down into the depths of a velvet-covered chair in
+the great parlor. "My! ain't this nice!"
+
+"Just perfectly lovely," quavered the thin voice of his wife, as she
+threw a surreptitious glance at Reuben's shoes to see if they were quite
+clean enough for such sacred precincts.
+
+It was their first evening in their new abode, and they were a little
+weary, for they had spent the entire day in exploring every room,
+peering into every closet, and trying every chair that the establishment
+contained. It was still quite early when they trudged anxiously about
+the house, intent on fastening the numerous doors and windows.
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed the little woman nervously, "I'm 'most afraid to go
+to bed, Reuben, for fear some one will break in an' steal all these nice
+things."
+
+"Well, you can sit up if you want to," replied her husband dryly, "but I
+shall go to bed. Most of these things have been here nigh on to twenty
+years, an' I guess they'll last the night through." And he marched
+solemnly upstairs to the big east chamber, meekly followed by his wife.
+
+It was the next morning when Mrs. Gray was washing the breakfast dishes
+that her husband came in at the kitchen door and stood looking
+thoughtfully at her.
+
+"Say, Emily," said he, "you'd oughter have a hired girl. 'T ain't your
+place to be doin' work like this now."
+
+Mrs. Gray gasped--half terrified, half pleased--and shook her head; but
+her husband was not to be silenced.
+
+"Well, you had--an' you've got to, too. An' you must buy some new
+clothes--lots of 'em! Why, Em'ly, we've got heaps of money now, an' we
+hadn't oughter wear such lookin' things."
+
+Emily nodded; she had thought of this before. And the hired-girl hint
+must have found a warm spot in her heart in which to grow, for that very
+afternoon she sallied forth, intent on a visit to her counselor on all
+occasions--the doctor's wife.
+
+"Well, Mis' Steele, I don't know what to do. Reuben says I ought to have
+a hired girl; but I hain't no more idea where to get one than anything,
+an' I don't know's I want one, if I did."
+
+And Mrs. Gray sat back in her chair and rocked violently to and fro,
+eying her hostess with the evident consciousness of having presented a
+poser. That resourceful woman, however, was far from being nonplussed;
+she beamed upon her visitor with a joyful smile.
+
+"Just the thing, my dear Mrs. Gray! You know I am to go South with May
+for the winter. The house will be closed and the doctor at the hotel. I
+had just been wondering what to do with Nancy, for I want her again in
+the spring. Now, you can have her until then, and by that time you will
+know how you like the idea of keeping a girl. She is a perfect treasure,
+capable of carrying along the entire work of the household, only"--and
+Mrs. Steele paused long enough to look doubtfully at her friend--"she is
+a little independent, and won't stand much interference."
+
+Fifteen minutes later Mrs. Gray departed, well pleased though withal a
+little frightened. She spent the rest of the afternoon in trying to
+decide between a black alpaca and a green cashmere dress.
+
+That night Reuben brought home a large bag of peanuts and put them down
+in triumph on the kitchen table.
+
+"There!" he announced in high glee, "I'm goin' to have a bang-up good
+time!"
+
+"Why, Reuben," remonstrated his wife gently, "you can't eat them things--
+you hain't got no teeth to chew 'em with!"
+
+The man's lower jaw dropped.
+
+"Well, I'm a-goin' to try it, anyhow," he insisted. And try he did; but
+the way his poor old stomach rebelled against the half-masticated things
+effectually prevented a repetition of the feast.
+
+Early on Monday morning Nancy appeared. Mrs. Gray assumed a brave
+aspect, but she quaked in her shoes as she showed the big strapping girl
+to her room. Five minutes later Nancy came into the kitchen to find Mrs.
+Gray bending over an obstinate coal fire in the range--with neither coal
+nor range was the little woman in the least familiar.
+
+"There, now," said Nancy briskly, "I'll fix that. You just tell me what
+you want for dinner, and I can find the things myself." And she attacked
+the stove with such a clatter and din that Mrs. Gray retreated in
+terror, murmuring "ham and eggs, if you please," as she fled through the
+door. Once in the parlor, she seated herself in the middle of the room
+and thought how nice it was not to get dinner; but she jumped nervously
+at every sound from the kitchen.
+
+On Tuesday she had mastered her fear sufficiently to go into the kitchen
+and make a cottage cheese. She did not notice the unfavorable glances of
+her maid-of-all-work. Wednesday morning she spent happily puttering over
+"doing up" some handkerchiefs, and she wondered why Nancy kept banging
+the oven door so often. Thursday she made a special kind of pie that
+Reuben liked, and remarked pointedly to Nancy that she herself never
+washed dishes without wearing an extra apron; furthermore, she always
+placed the pans the other way in the sink. Friday she rearranged the
+tins on the pantry shelves, that Nancy had so unaccountably mussed up.
+On Saturday the inevitable explosion came:
+
+"If you please, mum, I'm willin' to do your work, but seems to me it
+don't make no difference to you whether I wear one apron or six, or
+whether I hang my dish-towels on a string or on the bars, or whether I
+wash goblets or kittles first; and I ain't in the habit of havin' folks
+spyin' round on me. If you want me to go, I'll go; but if I stay, I want
+to be let alone!"
+
+Poor little Mrs. Gray fled to her seat in the parlor, and for the rest
+of that winter she did not dare to call her soul her own; but her table
+was beautifully set and served, and her house was as neat as wax.
+
+The weeks passed and Reuben began to be restless. One day he came in
+from the postoffice fairly bubbling over with excitement.
+
+"Say, Em'ly, when folks have money they travel. Let's go somewhere!"
+
+"Why, Reuben--where?" quavered his wife, dropping into the nearest
+chair.
+
+"Oh, I dunno," with cheerful vagueness; then, suddenly animated, "Let's
+go to Boston and see the sights!"
+
+"But, Reuben, we don't know no one there," ventured his wife doubtfully.
+
+"Pooh! What if we don't? Hain't we got money? Can't we stay at a hotel?
+Well, I guess we can!"
+
+And his overwhelming courage put some semblance of confidence into the
+more timid heart of his wife, until by the end of the week she was as
+eager as he.
+
+Nancy was tremblingly requested to take a two weeks' vacation, and great
+was the rejoicing when she graciously acquiesced.
+
+On a bright February morning the journey began. It was not a long one--
+four hours only--and the time flew by as on wings of the wind. Reuben
+assumed an air of worldly wisdom, quite awe-inspiring to his wife. He
+had visited Boston as a boy, and so had a dim idea of what to expect;
+moreover, he had sold stock and produce in the large towns near his
+home, and on the whole felt quite self-sufficient.
+
+As the long train drew into the station, and they alighted and followed
+the crowd, Mrs. Gray looked with round eyes of wonder at the people--she
+had not realized that there were so many in the world, and she clung
+closer and closer to Reuben, who was marching along with a fine show of
+indifference.
+
+"There," said he, as he deposited his wife and his bags in a seat in the
+huge waiting-room; "now you stay right here, an' don't you move. I'm
+goin' to find out about hotels and things."
+
+He was gone so long that she was nearly fainting from fright before she
+spied his dear form coming toward her. His thin, plain face looked
+wonderfully beautiful to her, and she almost hugged him right before all
+those people.
+
+"Well, I've got a hotel all right; but I hain't been here for so long
+I've kinder forgot about the streets, so the man said we'd better have a
+team to take us there." And he picked up the bags and trudged off,
+closely followed by Emily.
+
+His shrewd Yankee wit carried him safely through a bargain with the
+driver, and they were soon jolting and rumbling along to their
+destination. He had asked the man behind the news-stand about a hotel,
+casually mentioning that he had money--plenty of it--and wanted a "bang-
+up good place." The spirit of mischief had entered the heart of the
+news-man, and he had given Reuben the name of one of the very highest-
+priced, most luxurious hotels in the city.
+
+As the carriage stopped, Reuben marched boldly up the broad steps and
+entered the palatial office, with Emily close at his heels. Two bell-
+boys sprang forward--the one to take the bags, the other to offer to
+show Mrs. Gray to the reception-room.
+
+"No, thank you, I ain't particular," said she sweetly; "I'll wait for
+Reuben here." And she dropped into the nearest chair, while her husband
+advanced toward the desk. She noticed that men were looking curiously at
+her, and she felt relieved when Reuben and the pretty boy came back and
+said they would go up to their room.
+
+She stood the elevator pretty well, though she gave a little gasp (which
+she tried to choke into a cough) as it started. Reuben turned to the
+boy.
+
+"Where can I get somethin' to eat?"
+
+"Luncheon is being served in the main dining-room on the first floor,
+sir."
+
+Visions of a lunch as he knew it in Emily's pantry came to him, and he
+looked a little dubious.
+
+"Well, I'm pretty hungry; but if that's all I can get I suppose it will
+have to do."
+
+Ten minutes later an officious head waiter, whom Emily looked upon with
+timid awe, was seating them in a superbly appointed dining-room. Reuben
+looked at the menu doubtfully, while an attentive, soft-voiced man at
+his elbow bent low to catch his order. Few of the strange-looking words
+conveyed any sort of meaning to the poor hungry man. At length spying
+"chicken" halfway down the card, he pointed to it in relief.
+
+"I guess I'll take some of that," he said, briefly; then he added, "I
+don't know how much it costs--you hain't got no price after it."
+
+The waiter comprehended at once.
+
+"The luncheon is served in courses, sir; you pay for the whole--whether
+you eat it or not," he added shrewdly. "If you will let me serve you
+according to my judgment, sir, I think I can please you."
+
+And there the forlorn little couple sat, amazed and hungry, through six
+courses, each one of which seemed to their uneducated palate one degree
+worse than the last.
+
+Two hours later they started for a long walk down the wonderful,
+fascinating street. Each marvelous window display came in for its full
+share of attention, but they stood longest before bakeries and
+restaurants. Finally, upon coming to one of the latter, where an
+enticing sign announced "<i>Boiled Dinner To-day, Served Hot at All
+Hours</i>," Reuben could endure it no longer.
+
+"By Jinks, Em'ly, I've just got to have some of that. That stodged-up
+mess I ate at the hotel didn't go to the spot at all. Come on, let's
+have a good square meal."
+
+The hotel knew them just one night. The next morning before breakfast
+Reuben manfully paid his--to him astounding--bill and departed for more
+congenial quarters, which they soon found on a neighboring side street.
+
+The rest of the visit was, of course, delightful, only the streets were
+pretty crowded and noisy, and they couldn't sleep very well at night;
+moreover, Reuben lost his pocketbook with a small sum of money in it;
+so, on the whole, they concluded to go home a little before the two
+weeks ended.
+
+When spring came Nancy returned to her former mistress, and her vacant
+throne remained unoccupied. Little by little the dust gathered on the
+big velvet chairs in the parlor, and the room was opened less and less.
+When the first green things commenced to send tender shoots up through
+the wet, brown earth, Reuben's restlessness was very noticeable. By and
+by he began to go off very early in the morning, returning at noon for a
+hasty dinner, then away again till night. To his wife's repeated
+questioning he would reply, sheepishly, "Oh, just loafin', that's all."
+
+And Emily was nervous, too. Of late she had taken a great fancy to a
+daily walk, and it always led in one direction--down past the little
+brown house. Of course, she glanced over the fence at the roses and
+lilacs, and she couldn't help seeing that they all looked sadly
+neglected. By and by the weeds came, grew, and multiplied; and every
+time she passed the gate her throat fairly choked in sympathy with her
+old pets.
+
+Evenings, she and Reuben spent very happily on the back stoop, talking
+of their great good fortune in being able to live in such a fine large
+house. Somehow they said more than usual about it this spring, and
+Reuben often mentioned how glad he was that his wife didn't have to dig
+in the garden any more; and Emily would reply that she, too, was glad
+that he was having so easy a time. Then they would look down at the
+little brown farmhouse and wonder how they ever managed to get along in
+so tiny a place.
+
+One day, in passing this same little house, Emily stopped a moment and
+leaned over the gate, that she might gain a better view of her favorite
+rosebush.
+
+She evinced the same interest the next two mornings, and on the third
+she timidly opened the gate and walked up the old path to the door. A
+buxom woman with a big baby in her arms, and a bigger one hanging to her
+skirts, answered her knock.
+
+"How do you do, Mis' Gray. Won't you come in?" said she civilly, looking
+mildly surprised.
+
+"No, thank you--yes--I mean--I came to see you," stammered Emily
+confusedly.
+
+"You're very good," murmured the woman, still standing in the doorway.
+
+"Your flowers are so pretty," ventured Mrs. Gray, unable to keep the
+wistfulness out of her voice.
+
+"Do you think so?" carelessly; "I s'pose they need weedin'. What with my
+babies an' all, I don't get much time for posies."
+
+"Oh, please,--would it be too much trouble to let me come an' putter
+around in the beds?" queried the little woman eagerly. "Oh, I would like
+it so much!"
+
+The other laughed heartily.
+
+"Well, I really don't see how it's goin' to trouble me to have you
+weedin' my flowers; in fact, I should think the shoe would be on the
+other foot." Then the red showed in her face a little. "You're welcome
+to do whatever you want, Mis' Gray."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed Emily, as she quickly pulled up an enormous
+weed at her feet.
+
+It took but a few hours' work to bring about a wonderfully happy change
+in that forlorn garden, and then Mrs. Gray found that she had a big pile
+of weeds to dispose of. Filling her apron with a portion of them, she
+started to go behind the house in search of a garbage heap. Around the
+corner she came face to face with her husband, hoe in hand.
+
+"Why, Reuben Gray! Whatever in the world are <i>you</i> doing?"
+
+For a moment the man was crushed with the enormity of his crime; then he
+caught sight of his wife's dirt-stained fingers.
+
+"Well, I guess I ain't doin' no worse than you be!" And he turned his
+back and began to hoe vigorously.
+
+Emily dropped the weeds where she stood, turned about, and walked
+through the garden and up the hill, pondering many things.
+
+Supper was strangely quiet that night. Mrs. Gray had asked a single
+question: "Reuben, do you want the little house back?"
+
+A glad light leaped into the old man's eyes.
+
+"Em'ly--would you be willin' to?"
+
+After the supper dishes were put away, Mrs. Gray, with a light shawl
+over her head, came to her husband on the back stoop.
+
+"Come, dear; I think we'd better go down to-night."
+
+A few minutes later they sat stiffly in the best room of the farmhouse,
+while the buxom woman and her husband looked wonderingly at them.
+
+"You wan't thinkin' of sellin', was ye?" began Reuben insinuatingly.
+
+The younger man's eyelid quivered a little. "Well, no,--I can't hardly
+say that I was. I hain't but just bought."
+
+Reuben hitched his chair a bit and glanced at Emily.
+
+"Well, me and my wife have concluded that we're too old to transplant--
+we don't seem to take root very easy--and we've been thinkin'--would you
+swap even, now?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It must have been a month later that Reuben Gray and his wife were
+contentedly sitting in the old familiar kitchen of the little brown
+house.
+
+"I've been wondering, Reuben," said his wife--"I've been wondering if
+'twouldn't have been just as well if we'd taken some of the good things
+while they was goin'--before we got too old to enjoy 'em."
+
+"Yes--peanuts, for instance," acquiesced her husband ruefully.
+
+
+
+
+In the Footsteps of Katy
+
+
+
+Only Alma had lived--Alma, the last born. The other five, one after
+another, had slipped from loving, clinging arms into the great Silence,
+leaving worse than a silence behind them; and neither Nathan Kelsey nor
+his wife Mary could have told you which hurt the more,--the saying of a
+last good-bye to a stalwart, grown lad of twenty, or the folding of
+tiny, waxen hands over a heart that had not counted a year of beating.
+Yet both had fallen to their lot.
+
+As for Alma--Alma carried in her dainty self all the love, hopes,
+tenderness, ambitions, and prayers that otherwise would have been
+bestowed upon six. And Alma was coming home.
+
+"Mary," said Nathan one June evening, as he and his wife sat on the back
+porch, "I saw Jim Hopkins ter-day. Katy's got home."
+
+"Hm-m,"--the low rocker swayed gently to and fro,--"Katy's been ter
+college, same as Alma, ye know."
+
+"Yes; an'--an' that's what Jim was talkin' 'bout He was feelin' bad-
+powerful bad."
+
+"Bad!"--the rocker stopped abruptly. "Why, Nathan!"
+
+"Yes; he--" There was a pause, then the words came with the rush of
+desperation. "He said home wan't like home no more. That Katy was as
+good as gold, an' they was proud of her; but she was turrible upsettin'.
+Jim has ter rig up nights now ter eat supper--put on his coat an' a
+b'iled collar; an' he says he's got so he don't dast ter open his head.
+They're all so, too--Mis' Hopkins, an' Sue, an' Aunt Jane--don't none of
+'em dast ter speak."
+
+"Why, Nathan!--why not?" "'Cause of--Katy. Jim says there don't nothin'
+they say suit Katy--'bout its wordin', I mean. She changes it an' tells
+'em what they'd orter said."
+
+"Why, the saucy little baggage!"--the rocker resumed its swaying, and
+Mary Kelsey's foot came down on the porch floor with decided, rhythmic
+pats.
+
+The man stirred restlessly.
+
+"But she ain't sassy, Mary," he demurred. "Jim says Katy's that sweet
+an' pleasant about it that ye can't do nothin'. She tells 'em she's
+kerrectin' 'em fur their own good, an' that they need culturin'. An' Jim
+says she spends all o' meal-time tellin' 'bout the things on the table,
+--salt, an' where folks git it, an' pepper, an' tumblers, an' how folks
+make 'em. He says at first 'twas kind o' nice an' he liked ter hear it;
+but now, seems as if he hain't got no appetite left ev'ry time he sets
+down ter the table. He don't relish eatin' such big words an' queer
+names.
+
+"An' that ain't all," resumed Nathan, after a pause for breath. "Jim
+can't go hoein' nor diggin' but she'll foller him an' tell 'bout the
+bugs an' worms he turns up,--how many legs they've got, an' all that.
+An' the moon ain't jest a moon no more, an' the stars ain't stars.
+They're sp'eres an' planets with heathenish names an' rings an' orbits.
+Jim feels bad--powerful bad--'bout it, an' he says he can't see no way
+out of it. He knows they hain't had much schooling any of 'em, only
+Katy, an' he says that sometimes he 'most wishes that--that she hadn't,
+neither."
+
+Nathan Kelsey's voice had sunk almost to a whisper, and with the last
+words his eyes sent a furtive glance toward the stoop-shouldered little
+figure in the low rocker. The chair was motionless now, and its occupant
+sat picking at a loose thread in the gingham apron.
+
+"I--I wouldn't 'a' spoke of it," stammered the man, with painful
+hesitation, "only--well, ye see, I--you-" he stopped helplessly.
+
+"I know," faltered the little woman. "You was thinkin' of--Alma."
+
+"She wouldn't do it--Alma wouldn't!" retorted the man sharply, almost
+before his wife had ceased speaking.
+
+"No, no, of course not; but--Nahtan, ye <i>don't</i> think Alma'd ever
+be--<i>ashamed</i> of us, do ye?"
+
+"'Course not!" asserted Nathan, but his voice shook. "Don't ye worry,
+Mary," he comforted. "Alma ain't a-goin' ter do no kerrectin' of us."
+
+"Nathan, I--I think that's 'co-rectin','" suggested the woman, a little
+breathlessly.
+
+The man turned and gazed at his wife without speaking. Then his jaw
+fell.
+
+"Well, by sugar, Mary! <i>You</i> ain't a-goin' ter begin it, be ye?" he
+demanded.
+
+"Why, no, 'course not!" she laughed confusedly. "An'--an' Alma
+wouldn't."
+
+"'Course Alma wouldn't," echoed her husband. "Come, it's time ter shut
+up the house."
+
+The date of Alma's expected arrival was yet a week ahead.
+
+As the days passed, there came a curious restlessness to the movements
+of both Nathan and his wife. It was on the last night of that week of
+waiting that Mrs. Kelsey spoke.
+
+"Nathan," she began, with forced courage, "I've been over to Mis'
+Hopkins's--an' asked her what special things 'twas that Katy set such
+store by. I thought mebbe if we knew 'em beforehand, an' could do 'em,
+an'--"
+
+"That's jest what I asked Jim ter-day, Mary," cut in Nathan excitedly.
+
+"Nathan, you didn't, now! Oh, I'm so glad! An' we'll do 'em, won't we?--
+jest ter please her?"
+
+"'Course we will!"
+
+"Ye see it's four years since she was here, Nathan, what with her
+teachin' summers."
+
+"Sugar, now! Is it? It hain't seemed so long."
+
+"Nathan," interposed Mrs. Kelsey, anxiously, "I think that 'hain't'
+ain't--I mean <i>aren't</i> right. I think you'd orter say, 'It haven't
+seemed so long.'"
+
+The man frowned, and made an impatient gesture.
+
+"Yes, yes, I know," soothed his wife; "but,--well, we might jest as well
+begin now an' git used to it. Mis' Hopkins said that them two words,
+'hain't an' 'ain't, was what Katy hated most of anythin'."
+
+"Yes; Jim mentioned 'em, too," acknowledged Nathan gloomily. "But he
+said that even them wan't half so bad as his riggin' up nights. He said
+that Katy said that after the 'toil of the day' they must 'don fresh
+garments an' come ter the evenin' meal with minds an' bodies
+refreshed.'"
+
+"Yes; an', Nathan, ain't my black silk--"
+
+"Ahem! I'm a-thinkin' it wa'n't me that said 'ain't' that time,"
+interposed Nathan.
+
+"Dear, dear, Nathan!--did I? Oh, dear, what <i>will</i> Alma say?"
+
+"It don't make no diff'rence what Alma says, Mary. Don't ye fret,"
+returned the man with sudden sharpness, as he rose to his feet. "I guess
+Alma'll have ter take us 'bout as we be--'bout as we be."
+
+Yet it was Nathan who asked, just as his wife was dropping off to sleep
+that night:--
+
+"Mary, is it three o' them collars I've got, or four?--b'iled ones, I
+mean."
+
+At five o'clock the next afternoon Mrs. Kelsey put on the treasured
+black silk dress, sacred for a dozen years to church, weddings, and
+funerals. Nathan, warm and uncomfortable in his Sunday suit and stiff
+collar, had long since driven to the station for Alma. The house,
+brushed and scrubbed into a state of speckless order, was thrown wide
+open to welcome the returning daughter. At a quarter before six she
+came.
+
+"Mother, you darling!" cried a voice, and Mrs. Kelsey found herself in
+the clasp of strong young arms, and gazing into a flushed, eager face.
+"Don't you look good! And doesn't everything look good!" finished the
+girl.
+
+"Does it--I mean, <i>do</i> it?" quavered the little woman excitedly.
+"Oh, Alma, I <i>am</i> glad ter see ye!"
+
+Behind Alma's back Nathan flicked a bit of dust from his coat. The next
+instant he raised a furtive hand and gave his collar and neckband a
+savage pull.
+
+At the supper-table that night ten minutes of eager questioning on the
+part of Alma had gone by before Mrs. Kelsey realized that thus far their
+conversation had been of nothing more important than Nathan's
+rheumatism, her own health, and the welfare of Rover, Tabby, and the
+mare Topsy. Commensurate with the happiness that had been hers during
+those ten minutes came now her remorse. She hastened to make amends.
+
+"There, there, Alma, I beg yer pardon, I'm sure. I hain't--er--I
+<i>haven't</i> meant ter keep ye talkin' on such triflin' things, dear.
+Now talk ter us yer self. Tell us about things--anythin'--anythin' on
+the table or in the room," she finished feverishly.
+
+For a moment the merry-faced girl stared in frank amazement at her
+mother; then she laughed gleefully.
+
+"On the table? In the room?" she retorted. "Well, it's the dearest room
+ever, and looks so good to me! As for the table--the rolls are feathers,
+the coffee is nectar, and the strawberries--well, the strawberries are
+just strawberries--they couldn't be nicer."
+
+"Oh, Alma, but I didn't mean----"
+
+"Tut, tut, tut!" interrupted Alma laughingly. "Just as if the cook
+didn't like her handiwork praised! Why, when I draw a picture--oh, and I
+haven't told you!" she broke off excitedly. The next instant she was on
+her feet. "Alma Mead Kelsey, Illustrator; at your service," she
+announced with a low bow. Then she dropped into her seat again and went
+on speaking.
+
+"You see, I've been doing this sort of thing for some time," she
+explained, "and have had some success in selling. My teacher has always
+encouraged me, and, acting on his advice, I stayed over in New York a
+week with a friend, and took some of my work to the big publishing
+houses. That's why I didn't get here as soon as Kate Hopkins did. I
+hated to put off my coming; but now I'm so glad I did. Only think! I
+sold every single thing, and I have orders and orders ahead."
+
+"Well, by sugar!" ejaculated the man at the head of the table.
+
+"Oh-h-h!" breathed the little woman opposite. "Oh, Alma, I'm so glad!"
+
+In spite of Mrs. Kelsey's protests that night after supper, Alma tripped
+about the kitchen and pantry wiping the dishes and putting them away. At
+dusk father, mother, and daughter seated themselves on the back porch.
+
+"There!" sighed Alma. "Isn't this restful? And isn't that moon
+glorious?"
+
+Mrs. Kelsey shot a quick look at her husband; then she cleared her
+throat nervously.
+
+"Er--yes," she assented. "I--I s'pose you know what it's made of, an'
+how big 'tis, an'--an' what there is on it, don't ye, Alma?"
+
+Alma raised her eyebrows.
+
+"Hm-m; well, there are still a few points that I and the astronomers
+haven't quite settled," she returned, with a whimsical smile.
+
+"An' the stars, they've got names, I s'pose--every one of 'em,"
+proceeded Mrs. Kelsey, so intent on her own part that Alma's reply
+passed unnoticed.
+
+Alma laughed; then she assumed an attitude of mock rapture, and quoted:
+
+  "'Scintillate, scintillate, globule vivific,
+   Fain would I fathom thy nature specific;
+   Loftily poised in ether capacious,
+   Strongly resembling the gem carbonaceous.'"
+
+There was a long silence. Alma's eyes were on the flying clouds.
+
+"Would--would you mind saying that again, Alma?" asked Mrs. Kelsey at
+last timidly.
+
+Alma turned with a start.
+
+"Saying what, dearie?--oh, that nonsensical verse? Of course not! That's
+only another way of saying 'twinkle, twinkle, little star.' Means just
+the same, only uses up a few more letters to make the words. Listen."
+And she repeated the two, line for line.
+
+"Oh!" said her mother faintly. "Er--thank you."
+
+"I--I guess I'll go to bed," announced Nathan Kelsey suddenly.
+
+The next morning Alma's pleadings were in vain. Mrs. Kelsey insisted
+that Alma should go about her sketching, leaving the housework for her
+own hands to perform. With a laughing protest and a playful pout, Alma
+tucked her sketchbook under her arm and left the house to go down by the
+river. In the field she came upon her father.
+
+"Hard at work, dad?" she called affectionately. "Old Mother Earth won't
+yield her increase without just so much labor, will she?"
+
+"That she won't," laughed the man. Then he flushed a quick red and set a
+light foot on a crawling thing of many legs which had emerged from
+beneath an overturned stone.
+
+"Oh!" cried Alma. "Your foot, father--your're crushing something!"
+
+The flush grew deeper.
+
+"Oh, I guess not," rejoined the man, lifting his foot, and giving a
+curiously resigned sigh as he sent an apprehensive glance into the
+girl's face.
+
+"Dear, dear! isn't he funny?" murmured the girl, bending low and giving
+a gentle poke with the pencil in her hand. "Only fancy," she added,
+straightening herself, "only fancy if we had so many feet. Just picture
+the size of our shoe bill!" And she laughed and turned away.
+
+"Well, by gum!" ejaculated the man, looking after her. Then he fell to
+work, and his whistle, as he worked, carried something of the song of a
+bird set free from a cage.
+
+A week passed.
+
+The days were spent by Alma in roaming the woods and fields, pencil and
+paper in hand; they were spent by her mother in the hot kitchen over a
+hotter stove. To Alma's protests and pleadings Mrs. Kelsey was deaf.
+Alma's place was not there, her work was not housework, declared Alma's
+mother.
+
+On Mrs. Kelsey the strain was beginning to tell. It was not the work
+alone--though that was no light matter, owing to her anxiety that Alma's
+pleasure and comfort should find nothing wanting--it was more than the
+work.
+
+Every night at six the anxious little woman, flushed from biscuit-baking
+and chicken-broiling and almost sick with fatigue, got out the black
+silk gown and the white lace collar and put them on with trembling
+hands. Thus robed in state she descended to the supper-table, there to
+confront her husband still more miserable in the stiff collar and black
+coat.
+
+Nor yet was this all. Neither the work nor the black silk dress
+contained for Mrs. Kelsey quite the possibilities of soul torture that
+were to be found in the words that fell from her lips. As the days
+passed, the task the little woman had set for herself became more and
+more hopeless, until she scarcely could bring herself to speak at all,
+so stumbling and halting were her sentences.
+
+At the end of the eighth day came the culmination of it all. Alma, her
+nose sniffing the air, ran into the kitchen that night to find no one in
+the room, and the biscuits burning in the oven. She removed the
+biscuits, threw wide the doors and windows, then hurried upstairs to her
+mother's room.
+
+"Why, mother!"
+
+Mrs. Kelsey stood before the glass, a deep flush on her cheeks and tears
+rolling down her face. Two trembling hands struggled with the lace at
+her throat until the sharp point of a pin found her thumb and left a
+tiny crimson stain on the spotlessness of the collar. It was then that
+Mrs. Kelsey covered her face with her hands and sank into the low chair
+by the bed.
+
+"Why, mother!" cried Alma again, hurrying across the room and dropping
+on her knees at her mother's side.
+
+"I can't, Alma, I can't!" moaned the woman. "I've tried an' tried; but
+I've got ter give up, I've got ter give up."
+
+"Can't what, dearie?--give up what?" demanded Alma.
+
+Mrs. Kelsey shook her head. Then she dropped her hands and looked
+fearfully into her daughter's face.
+
+"An' yer father, too, Alma--he's tried, an' he can't," she choked.
+
+"Tried what? What <i>do</i> you mean?"
+
+With her eyes on Alma's troubled, amazed face, Mrs. Kelsey made one last
+effort to gain her lost position. She raised her shaking hands to her
+throat and fumbled for the pin and the collar.
+
+"There, there, dear, don't fret," she stammered. "I didn't think what I
+was sayin'. It ain't nothin'--I mean, it <i>aren't</i> nothin'--it
+<i>am</i> not--oh-h!" she sobbed; "there, ye see, Alma, I can't, I
+can't. It ain't no more use ter try!" Down went the gray head on Alma's
+strong young shoulder.
+
+"There, there, dear, cry away," comforted Alma, with loving pats. "It
+will do you good; then we'll hear what this is all about, from the very
+beginning."
+
+And Mrs. Kelsey told her--and from the very beginning. When the telling
+was over, and the little woman, a bit breathless and frightened, sat
+awaiting what Alma would say, there came a long silence.
+
+Alma's lips were close shut. Alma was not quite sure, if she opened
+them, whether there would come a laugh or a sob. The laugh was uppermost
+and almost parted the firm-set lips, when a side glance at the quivering
+face of the little woman in the big chair turned the laugh into a half-
+stifled sob. Then Alma spoke.
+
+"Mother, dear, listen. Do you think a silk dress and a stiff collar can
+make you and father any dearer to me? Do you think an 'ain't' or a
+'hain't' can make me love either of you any less? Do you suppose I
+expect you, after fifty years' service for others, to be as careful in
+your ways and words as if you'd spent those fifty years in training
+yourself instead of in training six children? Why, mother, dear, do you
+suppose that I don't know that for twenty of those years you have had no
+thoughts, no prayers, save for me?--that I have been the very apple of
+your eye? Well, it's my turn, now, and you are the apple of my eye--you
+and father. Why, dearie, you have no idea of the plans I have for you.
+There's a good strong woman coming next week for the kitchen work. Oh,
+it's all right," assured Alma, quickly, in response to the look on her
+mother's face. "Why, I'm rich! Only think of those orders! And then you
+shall dress in silk or velvet, or calico--anything you like, so long as
+it doesn't scratch nor prick," she added merrily, bending forward and
+fastening the lace collar. "And you shall----"
+
+"Ma-ry?" It was Nathan at the foot of the back stairway.
+
+"Yes, Nathan."
+
+"Ain't it 'most supper-time?"
+
+"Bless my soul!" cried Mrs. Kelsey, springing to her feet.
+
+"An', Mary----"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Hain't I got a collar--a b'iled one, on the bureau up there?"
+
+"No," called Alma, snatching up the collar and throwing it on the bed.
+"There isn't a sign of one there. Suppose you let it go to-night, dad?"
+
+"Well, if you don't mind!" And a very audible sigh of relief floated up
+the back stairway.
+
+
+
+
+The Bridge Across the Years
+
+
+
+John was expected on the five o'clock stage. Mrs. John had been there
+three days now, and John's father and mother were almost packed up--so
+Mrs. John said. The auction would be to-morrow at nine o'clock, and with
+John there to see that things "hustled"--which last was really
+unnecessary to mention, for John's very presence meant "hustle"--with
+John there, then, the whole thing ought to be over by one o'clock, and
+they off in season to 'catch the afternoon express.
+
+And what a time it had been--those three days!
+
+Mrs. John, resting in the big chair on the front porch, thought of those
+days with complacency--that they were over. Grandpa and Grandma Burton,
+hovering over old treasures in the attic, thought of them with terrified
+dismay--that they had ever begun.
+
+I am coming up on Tuesday [Mrs. John had written]. We have been thinking
+for some time that you and father ought not to be left alone up there on
+the farm any longer. Now don't worry about the packing. I shall bring
+Marie, and you won't have to lift your finger. John will come Thursday
+night, and be there for the auction on Friday. By that time we shall
+have picked out what is worth saving, and everything will be ready for
+him to take matters in hand. I think he has already written to the
+auctioneer, so tell father to give himself no uneasiness on that score.
+
+John says he thinks we can have you back here with us by Friday night,
+or Saturday at the latest. You know John's way, so you may be sure there
+will be no tiresome delay. Your rooms here will be all ready before I
+leave, so that part will be all right.
+
+This may seem a bit sudden to you, but you know we have always told you
+that the time was surely coming when you couldn't live alone any longer.
+John thinks it has come now; and, as I said before, you know John, so,
+after all, you won't be surprised at his going right ahead with things.
+We shall do everything possible to make you comfortable, and I am sure
+you will be very happy here.
+
+Good-bye, then, until Tuesday. With love to both of you.
+
+EDITH.
+
+That had been the beginning. To Grandpa and Grandma Burton it had come
+like a thunderclap on a clear day. They had known, to be sure, that son
+John frowned a little at their lonely life; but that there should come
+this sudden transplanting, this ruthless twisting and tearing up of
+roots that for sixty years had been burrowing deeper and deeper--it was
+almost beyond one's comprehension.
+
+And there was the auction!
+
+"We shan't need that, anyway," Grandma Burton had said at once. "What
+few things we don't want to keep I shall give away. An auction, indeed!
+Pray, what have we to sell?"
+
+"Hm-m! To be sure, to be sure," her husband had murmured; but his face
+was troubled, and later he had said, apologetically: "You see, Hannah,
+there's the farm things. We don't need them."
+
+On Tuesday night Mrs. John and the somewhat awesome Maria--to whom
+Grandpa and Grandma Burton never could learn not to curtsy--arrived; and
+almost at once Grandma Burton discovered that not only "farm things,"
+but such precious treasures as the hair wreath and the parlor--set were
+auctionable. In fact, everything the house contained, except their
+clothing and a few crayon portraits, seemed to be in the same category.
+
+"But, mother, dear," Mrs. John had returned, with a laugh, in response
+to Grandma Burton's horrified remonstrances, "just wait until you see
+your rooms, and how full they are of beautiful things, and then you'll
+understand."
+
+"But they won't be--these," the old voice had quavered.
+
+And Mrs. John had laughed again, and had patted her mother-in-law's
+cheek, and had echoed-but with a different shade of meaning--"No, they
+certainly won't be these!"
+
+In the attic now, on a worn black trunk, sat the little old man, and
+down on the floor before an antiquated cradle knelt his wife.
+
+"They was all rocked in it, Seth," she was saying,--"John and the twins
+and my two little girls; and now there ain't any one left only John--and
+the cradle."
+
+"I know, Hannah, but you ain't <i>usin'</i> that nowadays, so you don't
+really need it," comforted the old man. "But there's my big chair now--
+seems as though we jest oughter take that. Why, there ain't a day goes
+by that I don't set in it!"
+
+"But John's wife says there's better ones there, Seth," soothed the old
+woman in her turn, "as much as four or five of 'em right in our rooms."
+
+"So she did, so she did!" murmured the man. "I'm an ongrateful thing; so
+I be." There was a long pause. The old man drummed with his fingers on
+the trunk and watched a cloud sail across the skylight. The woman gently
+swung the cradle to and fro. "If only they wan't goin' ter be--sold!"
+she choked, after a time. "I like ter know that they're where I can look
+at 'em, an' feel of 'em, an'--an' remember things. Now there's them
+quilts with all my dress pieces in 'em--a piece of most every dress I've
+had since I was a girl; an' there's that hair wreath--seems as if I jest
+couldn't let that go, Seth. Why, there's your hair, an' John's, an' some
+of the twins', an'--"
+
+"There, there, dear; now I jest wouldn't fret," cut in the old man
+quickly. "Like enough when you get used ter them other things on the
+wall you'll like 'em even better than the hair wreath. John's wife says
+she's taken lots of pains an' fixed 'em up with pictures an' curtains
+an' everythin' nice," went on Seth, talking very fast. "Why, Hannah,
+it's you that's bein' ongrateful now, dear!"
+
+"So 'tis, so 'tis, Seth, an' it ain't right an' I know it. I ain't a-
+goin' ter do so no more; now see!" And she bravely turned her back on
+the cradle and walked, head erect, toward the attic stairs.
+
+John came at five o'clock. He engulfed the little old man and the little
+old woman in a bearlike hug, and breezily demanded what they had been
+doing to themselves to make them look so forlorn. In the very next
+breath, however, he answered his own question, and declared it was
+because they had been living all cooped up alone so long--so it was; and
+that it was high time it was stopped, and that he had come to do it!
+Whereupon the old man and the old woman smiled bravely and told each
+other what a good, good son they had, to be sure!
+
+Friday dawned clear, and not too warm--an ideal auction-day. Long before
+nine o'clock the yard was full of teams and the house of people. Among
+them all, however, there was no sign of the bent old man and the erect
+little old woman, the owners of the property to be sold. John and Mrs.
+John were not a little disturbed--they had lost their father and mother.
+
+Nine o'clock came, and with it began the strident call of the
+auctioneer. Men laughed and joked over their bids, and women looked on
+and gossiped, adding a bid of their own now and then. Everywhere was the
+son of the house, and things went through with a rush. Upstairs, in the
+darkest corner of the attic--which had been cleared of goods--sat, hand
+in hand on an old packing-box, a little old man and a little old woman
+who winced and shrank together every time the "Going, going, gone!"
+floated up to them from the yard below.
+
+At half-past one the last wagon rumbled out of the yard, and five
+minutes later Mrs. John gave a relieved cry.
+
+"Oh, there you are! Why, mother, father, where <i>have</i> you been?"
+
+There was no reply. The old man choked back a cough and bent to flick a
+bit of dust from his coat. The old woman turned and crept away, her
+erect little figure looking suddenly bent and old.
+
+"Why, what--" began John, as his father, too, turned away. "Why, Edith,
+you don't suppose--" He stopped with a helpless frown.
+
+"Perfectly natural, my dear, perfectly natural," returned Mrs. John
+lightly. "We'll get them away immediately. It'll be all right when once
+they are started."
+
+Some hours later a very tired old man and a still more tired old woman
+crept into a pair of sumptuous, canopy-topped twin beds. There was only
+one remark.
+
+"Why, Seth, mine ain't feathers a mite! Is yours?"
+
+There was no reply. Tired nature had triumphed--Seth was asleep.
+
+They made a brave fight, those two. They told themselves that the chairs
+were easier, the carpets softer, and the pictures prettier than those
+that had gone under the hammer that day as they sat hand in hand in the
+attic. They assured each other that the unaccustomed richness of window
+and bed hangings and the profusion of strange vases and statuettes did
+not make them afraid to stir lest they soil or break something. They
+insisted to each other that they were not homesick, and that they were
+perfectly satisfied as they were. And yet--
+
+When no one was looking Grandpa Burton tried chair after chair, and
+wondered why there was only one particular chair in the whole world that
+just exactly "fitted;" and when the twilight hour came Grandma Burton
+wondered what she would give to be able just to sit by the old cradle
+and talk with the past.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The newspapers said it was a most marvelous escape for the whole family.
+They gave a detailed account of how the beautiful residence of the
+Honorable John Burton, with all its costly furnishings, had burned to
+the ground, and of how the entire family was saved, making special
+mention of the honorable gentleman's aged father and mother. No one was
+injured, fortunately, and the family had taken up a temporary residence
+in the nearest hotel. It was understood that Mr. Burton would begin
+rebuilding at once.
+
+The newspapers were right--Mr. Burton did begin rebuilding at once; in
+fact, the ashes of the Burton mansion were not cold before John Burton
+began to interview architects and contractors.
+
+"It'll be 'way ahead of the old one," he confided to his wife
+enthusiastically.
+
+Mrs. John sighed.
+
+"I know, dear," she began plaintively; "but, don't you see? it won't be
+the same--it can't be. Why, some of those things we've had ever since we
+were married. They seemed a part of me, John. I was used to them. I had
+grown up with some of them--those candlesticks of mamma's, for instance,
+that she had when I was a bit of a baby. Do you think money can buy
+another pair that--that were <i>hers</i>?" And Mrs. John burst into
+tears.
+
+"Come, come, dear," protested her husband, with a hasty caress and a
+nervous glance at the clock--he was due at the bank in ten minutes."
+Don't fret about what can't be helped; besides"-and he laughed
+whimsically--"you must look out or you'll be getting as bad as mother
+over her hair wreath!" And with another hasty pat on her shoulder he was
+gone.
+
+Mrs. John suddenly stopped her crying. She lowered her handkerchief and
+stared fixedly at an old print on the wall opposite. The hotel--though
+strictly modern in cuisine and management--was an old one, and prided
+itself on the quaintness of its old-time furnishings. Just what the
+print represented Mrs. John could not have told, though her eyes did not
+swerve from its face for five long minutes. What she did see was a
+silent, dismantled farmhouse, and a little old man and a little old
+woman with drawn faces and dumb lips.
+
+Was it possible? Had she, indeed, been so blind?
+
+Mrs. John rose to her feet, bathed her eyes, straightened her neck-bow,
+and crossed the hall to Grandma Burton's room.
+
+"Well, mother, and how are you getting along?" she asked cheerily.
+
+"Jest as nice as can be, daughter,--and ain't this room pretty?"
+returned the little old woman eagerly. "Do you know, it seems kind of
+natural like; mebbe it's because of that chair there. Seth says it's
+almost like his at home."
+
+It was a good beginning, and Mrs. John made the most of it. Under her
+skillful guidance Grandma Burton, in less than five minutes, had gone
+from the chair to the old clock which her father used to wind, and from
+the clock to the bureau where she kept the dead twins' little white
+shoes and bonnets. She told, too, of the cherished parlor chairs and
+marble-topped table, and of how she and father had saved and saved for
+years to buy them; and even now, as she talked, her voice rang with
+pride of possession--though only for a moment; it shook then with the
+remembrance of loss.
+
+There was no complaint, it is true, no audible longing for lost
+treasures. There was only the unwonted joy of pouring into sympathetic
+ears the story of things loved and lost--things the very mention of
+which brought sweet faint echoes of voices long since silent.
+
+"There, there," broke off the little old woman at last, "how I am
+runnin' on! But, somehow, somethin' set me to talkin' ter-day. Mebbe't
+was that chair that's like yer father's," she hazarded.
+
+"Maybe it was," agreed Mrs. John quietly, as she rose to her feet.
+
+The new house came on apace. In a wonderfully short time John Burton
+began to urge his wife to see about rugs and hangings. It was then that
+Mrs. John called him to one side and said a few hurried but very earnest
+words--words that made the Honorable John open wide his eyes.
+
+"But, Edith," he remonstrated, "are you crazy? It simply couldn't be
+done! The things are scattered over half a dozen townships; besides, I
+haven't the least idea where the auctioneer's list is--if I saved it at
+all."
+
+"Never mind, dear; I may try, surely," begged Mrs. John. And her husband
+laughed and reached for his check-book.
+
+"Try? Of course you may try! And here's this by way of wishing you good
+luck," he finished, as he handed her an oblong bit of paper that would
+go far toward smoothing the most difficult of ways.
+
+"You dear!" cried Mrs. John. "And now I'm going to work."
+
+It was at about this time that Mrs. John went away. The children were at
+college and boarding-school; John was absorbed in business and house-
+building, and Grandpa and Grandma Burton were contented and well cared
+for. There really seemed to be no reason why Mrs. John should not go
+away, if she wished--and she apparently did wish. It was at about this
+time, too, that certain Vermont villages--one of which was the Honorable
+John Burton's birthplace--were stirred to sudden interest and action. A
+persistent, smiling-faced woman had dropped into their midst--a woman
+who drove from house to house, and who, in every case, left behind her a
+sworn ally and friend, pledged to serve her cause.
+
+Little by little, in an unused room in the village hotel there began to
+accumulate a motley collection--a clock, a marble-topped table, a
+cradle, a patchwork quilt, a bureau, a hair wreath, a chair worn with
+age and use. And as this collection grew in size and fame, only that
+family which could not add to it counted itself abused and unfortunate,
+so great was the spell that the persistent, smiling-faced woman had cast
+about her.
+
+Just before the Burton house was finished Mrs. John came back to town.
+She had to hurry a little about the last of the decorations and
+furnishings to make up for lost time; but there came a day when the
+place was pronounced ready for occupancy.
+
+It was then that Mrs. John hurried into Grandpa and Grandma Burton's
+rooms at the hotel.
+
+"Come, dears," she said gayly. "The house is all ready, and we're going
+home."
+
+"Done? So soon?" faltered Grandma Burton, who had not been told very
+much concerning the new home's progress. "Why, how quick they have built
+it!"
+
+There was a note of regret in the tremulous old voice, but Mrs. John did
+not seem to notice. The old man, too, rose from his chair with a long
+sigh--and again Mrs. John did not seem to notice.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Yes, dearie, yes, it's all very nice and fine," said Grandma Burton
+wearily, half an hour later as she trudged through the sumptuous parlors
+and halls of the new house; "but, if you don't mind, I guess I'll go to
+my room, daughter. I'm tired--turrible tired."
+
+Up the stairs and along the hall trailed the little procession--Mrs.
+John, John, the bent old man, and the little old woman. At the end of
+the hall Mrs. John paused a moment, then flung the door wide open.
+
+There was a gasp and a quick step forward; then came the sudden
+illumination of two wrinkled old faces.
+
+"John! Edith!"--it was a cry of mingled joy and wonder.
+
+There was no reply. Mrs. John had closed the door and left them there
+with their treasures.
+
+
+
+
+For Jimmy
+
+
+
+Uncle Zeke's pipe had gone out--sure sign that Uncle Zeke's mind was not
+at rest. For five minutes the old man had occupied in frowning silence
+the other of my veranda rocking-chairs. As I expected, however, I had
+not long to wait.
+
+"I met old Sam Hadley an' his wife in the cemetery just now," he
+observed.
+
+"Yes?" I was careful to express just enough, and not too much, interest:
+one had to be circumspect with Uncle Zeke.
+
+"Hm-m; I was thinkin'--" Uncle Zeke paused, shifted his position, and
+began again. This time I had the whole story.
+
+"I was thinkin'--I don't say that Jimmy did right, an' I don't say that
+Jimmy did wrong. Maybe you can tell. 'Twas like this:
+
+"In a way we all claimed Jimmy Hadley. As a little fellow, he was one of
+them big-eyed, curly-haired chaps that gets inside your heart no matter
+how tough't is. An' we was really fond of him, too,--so fond of him that
+we didn't do nothin' but jine in when his pa an' ma talked as if he was
+the only boy that ever was born, or ever would be--an' you know we must
+have been purty daft ter stood that, us bein' fathers ourselves!
+
+"Well, as was natural, perhaps, the Hadleys jest lived fer Jimmy. They'd
+lost three, an' he was all there was left. They wasn't very well-to-do,
+but nothin' was too grand fer Jimmy, and when the boy begun ter draw
+them little pictures of his all over the shed an' the barn door, they
+was plumb crazy. There wan't no doubt of it--Jimmy was goin' ter be
+famous, they said. He was goin' ter be one o' them painter fellows, an'
+make big money.
+
+"An' Jimmy did work, even then. He stood well in his studies, an' worked
+outside, earnin' money so's he could take drawin' lessons when he got
+bigger. An' by and by he did get bigger, an' he did take lessons down
+ter the Junction twice a week.
+
+"There wan't no livin' with Mis' Hadley then, she was that proud; an'
+when he brought home his first picture, they say she never went ter bed
+at all that night, but jest set gloatin' over it till the sun came in
+an' made her kerosene lamp look as silly as she did when she saw 'twas
+mornin'. There was one thing that plagued her, though: 'twan't painted--
+that picture. Jimmy called it a 'black an' white,' an' said 'twan't
+paintin' that he wanted ter do, but 'lustratin'--fer books and
+magazines, you know. She felt hurt, an' all put out at first: but Jimmy
+told her 'twas all right, an' that there was big money in it; so she got
+'round contented again. She couldn't help it, anyhow, with Jimmy, he was
+that lovin' an' nice with her. He was the kind that's always bringin'
+footstools and shawls, an' makin' folks comfortable. Everybody loved
+Jimmy. Even the cats an' dogs rubbed up against him an' wagged their
+tails at sight of him, an' the kids--goodness, Jimmy couldn't cross the
+street without a dozen kids makin' a grand rush fer him.
+
+"Well, time went on, an' Jimmy grew tall an' good lookin'. Then came the
+girl--an' she <i>was</i> a girl, too. 'Course, Jimmy, bein' as how he'd
+had all the frostin' there was goin' on everythin' so fur, carried out
+the same idea in girls, an' picked out the purtiest one he could find--
+rich old Townsend's daughter, Bessie.
+
+"To the Hadleys this seemed all right--Jimmy was merely gettin' the
+best, as usual; but the rest of us, includin' old man Townsend, begun
+ter sit up an' take notice. The old man was mad clean through. He had
+other plans fer Bessie, an' he said so purty plain."
+
+"But it seems there didn't any of us--only Jimmy, maybe--take the girl
+herself into consideration. For a time she was a little skittish, an'
+led Jimmy a purty chase with her dancin' nearer an' nearer, an' then
+flyin' off out of reach. But at last she came out fair an' square fur
+Jimmy, an' they was as lively a pair of lovers as ye'd wish ter see. It
+looked, too, as if she'd even wheedle the old man 'round ter her side of
+thinkin'."
+
+"The next thing we knew Jimmy had gone ter New York. He was ter study,
+an' at the same time pick up what work he could, ter turn an honest
+penny, the Hadleys said. We liked that in him. He was goin' ter make
+somethin' of himself, so's he'd be worthy of Bessie Townsend or any
+other girl."
+
+"But't was hard on the Hadleys. Jimmy's lessons cost a lot, an' so did
+just livin' there in New York, an' 'course Jimmy couldn't pay fer it
+all, though I guess he worked nights an' Sundays ter piece out. Back
+home here the Hadleys scrimped an' scrimped till they didn't have half
+enough ter eat, an' hardly enough ter cover their nakedness. But they
+didn't mind--'t was fer Jimmy. He wrote often, an' told how he was
+workin', an' the girl got letters, too; at least, Mis' Hadley said she
+did. An' once in a while he'd tell of some picture he'd finished, or
+what the teacher said.
+
+"But by an' by the letters didn't come so often. Sam told me about it at
+first, an' he said it plagued his wife a lot. He said she thought maybe
+Jimmy was gettin' discouraged, specially as he didn't seem ter say much
+of anything about his work now. Sam owned up that the letters wan't so
+free talkin'; an' that worried him. He was afraid the boy was keepin'
+back somethin'. He asked me, kind of sheepish-like, if I s'posed such a
+thing could be as that Jimmy had gone wrong, somehow. He knew cities was
+awful wicked an' temptin', he said.
+
+"I laughed him out of that notion quick, an' I was honest in it, too.
+I'd have as soon suspected myself of goin' ter the bad as Jimmy, an' I
+told him so. Things didn't look right, though. The letters got skurser
+an' skurser, an' I began ter think myself maybe somethin' was up. Then
+come the newspaper.
+
+"It was me that took it over to the Hadleys. It was a little notice in
+my weekly, an' I spied it 'way down in the corner just as I thought I
+had the paper all read. 'Twan't so much, but to us 'twas a powerful lot;
+jest a little notice that they was glad ter see that the first prize had
+gone ter the talented young illustrator, James Hadley, an' that he
+deserved it, an' they wished him luck.
+
+"The Hadleys were purty pleased, you'd better believe. They hadn't seen
+it, 'course, as they wan't wastin' no money on weeklies them days. Sam
+set right down an' wrote, an' so did Mis' Hadley, right out of the
+fullness of their hearts. Mis' Hadley give me her letter ter read, she
+was that proud an' excited; an' 't was a good letter, all brimmin' over
+with love an' pride an' joy in his success. I could see just how Jimmy'd
+color up an' choke when he read it, specially where she owned up how
+she'd been gettin' purty near discouraged 'cause they didn't hear much
+from him, an' how she'd rather die than have her Jimmy fail.
+
+"Well, they sent off the letters, an' by an' by come the answer. It was
+kind of shy and stiff-like, an' I think it sort of disappointed 'em; but
+they tried ter throw it off an' say that Jimmy was so modest he didn't
+like ter take praise.
+
+"'Course the whole town was interested, an' proud, too, ter think he
+belonged ter us; an' we couldn't hear half enough about him. But as time
+went on we got worried. Things didn't look right. The Hadleys was still
+scrimpin', still sendin' money when they could, an' they owned up that
+Jimmy's letters wan't real satisfyin' an' that they didn't come often,
+though they always told how hard he was workin'.
+
+"What was queerer still, every now an' then I'd see his name in my
+weekly. I looked fer it, I'll own. I run across it once in the
+'Personals,' an' after that I hunted the paper all through every week.
+He went ter parties an' theaters, an' seemed ter be one of a gay crowd
+that was always havin' good times. I didn't say nothin' ter the Hadleys
+about all this, 'course, but it bothered me lots. What with all these
+fine doin's, an' his not sendin' any money home, it looked as if the old
+folks didn't count much now, an' that his head had got turned sure.
+
+"As time passed, things got worse an' worse. Sam lost two cows, an' Mis'
+Hadley grew thinner an' whiter, an' finally got down sick in her bed.
+Then I wrote. I told Jimmy purty plain how things was an' what I thought
+of him. I told him that there wouldn't be any more money comin' from
+this direction (an' I meant ter see that there wan't, too!), an' I
+hinted that if that 'ere prize brought anythin' but honor, I should
+think 't would be a mighty good plan ter share it with the folks that
+helped him ter win it.
+
+"It was a sharp letter, an' when it was gone I felt 'most sorry I'd sent
+it; an' when the answer come, I <i>was</i> sorry. Jimmy was all broke
+up, an' he showed it. He begged me ter tell him jest how his ma was; an'
+if they needed anythin', ter get it and call on him. He said he wished
+the prize had brought him lots of money, but it hadn't. He enclosed
+twenty-five dollars, however, and said he should write the folks not ter
+send him any more money, as he was goin' ter send it ter them now
+instead.
+
+"Of course I took the letter an' the money right over ter Sam, an' after
+they'd got over frettin' 'cause I'd written at all, they took the money,
+an' I could see it made 'em look ten years younger. After that you
+couldn't come near either of 'em that you didn't hear how good Jimmy was
+an' how he was sendin' home money every week.
+
+"Well, it wan't four months before I had ter write Jimmy again. Sam
+asked me too, this time. Mis' Hadley was sick again, an' Sam was
+worried. He thought Jimmy ought ter come home, but he didn't like ter
+say so himself. He wondered if I wouldn't drop him a hint. So I wrote,
+an' Jimmy wrote right away that he'd come.
+
+"We was all of a twitter, 'course, then--the whole town. He'd got
+another prize--so the paper said--an' there was a paragraph praisin' up
+some pictures of his in the magazine. He was our Jimmy, an' we was proud
+of him, yet we couldn't help wonderin' how he'd act. We wan't used ter
+celebrities--not near to!
+
+"Well, he came. He was taller an' thinner than when he went away, an'
+there was a tired look in his eyes that went straight ter my heart.
+'Most the whole town was out ter meet him, an' that seemed ter bother
+him. He was cordial enough, in a way, but he seemed ter try ter avoid
+folks, an' he asked me right off ter get him 'out of it.' I could see he
+wan't hankerin' ter be made a lion of, so we got away soon's we could
+an' went ter his home.
+
+"You should have seen Mis' Hadley's eyes when she saw him, tall an'
+straight in the doorway. And Sam--Sam cried like a baby, he was so proud
+of that boy. As fer Jimmy, his eyes jest shone, an' the tired look was
+all gone from them when he strode across the room an' dropped on his
+knees at his mother's bedside with a kind of choking cry. I come away
+then, and left them.
+
+"We was kind of divided about Jimmy, after that. We liked him, 'most all
+of us, but we didn't like his ways. He was too stand-offish, an' queer,
+an' we was all mad at the way he treated the girl.
+
+"'Twas given out that the engagement was broken, but we didn't believe
+'t was her done it, 'cause up ter the last minute she'd been runnin'
+down ter the house with posies and goodies. Then <i>he</i> came, an' she
+stopped. He didn't go there, neither, an', so far as we knew, they
+hadn't seen each other once. The whole town was put out. We didn't
+relish seein' her thrown off like an old glove, jest 'cause he was
+somebody out in the world now, an' could have his pick of girls with
+city airs and furbelows. But we couldn't do nothin', 'cause he he
+<i>was</i> good ter his folks, an' no mistake, an' we did like that.
+
+"Mis' Hadley got better in a couple of weeks, an' he begun ter talk of
+goin' back. We wanted ter give him a banquet an' speeches and a
+serenade, but he wouldn't hear a word of it. He wouldn't let us tell him
+how pleased we was at his success, either. The one thing he wouldn't
+talk about was his work, an' some got most mad, he was so modest.
+
+"He hardly ever left the house except fer long walks, and it was on one
+of them that the accident happened. It was in the road right in front of
+the field where I was ploughing, so I saw it all. Bessie Townsend, on
+her little gray mare, came tearin' down the Townsend Hill like mad.
+
+"Jimmy had stopped ter speak ter me, at the fence, but the next minute
+he was off like a shot up the road. He ran an' made a flyin' leap, an' I
+saw the mare rear and plunge. Then beast and man came down together, and
+I saw Bessie slide to the ground, landin' on her feet.
+
+"When I got there Bessie Townsend was sittin' on the ground, with
+Jimmy's head in her arms, which I thought uncommon good of her, seein'
+the mortification he'd caused her. But when I saw the look in her eyes,
+an' in his as he opened them an' gazed up at her, I reckoned there might
+be more ter that love-story than most folks knew. What he said ter her
+then I don't know, but ter me he said jest four words, 'Don't--tell--
+the--folks,' an' I didn't rightly understand jest then what he meant,
+for surely an accident like that couldn't be kept unbeknownst. The next
+minute he fell back unconscious.
+
+"It was a bad business all around, an' from the very first there wan't
+no hope. In a week 'twas over, an' we laid poor Jimmy away. Two days
+after the funeral Sam come ter me with a letter. It was addressed ter
+Jimmy, an' the old man couldn't bring himself ter open it. He wanted,
+too, that I should go on ter New York an' get Jimmy's things; an' after
+I had opened the letter I said right off that I'd go. I was mad over
+that letter. It was a bill fer a suit of clothes, an' it asked him purty
+sharplike ter pay it.
+
+"I had some trouble in New York findin' Jimmy's boardin'-place. There
+had been a fire the night before, an' his landlady had had ter move; but
+at last I found her an' asked anxiously fer Jimmy's things, an' if his
+pictures had been hurt.
+
+"Jimmy's landlady was fat an' greasy an' foreign-lookin', an' she didn't
+seem ter understand what I was talkin' about till I repeated a bit
+sharply:--
+
+"'Yes, his pictures. I've come fer 'em.'
+
+"Then she shook her head.
+
+"'Meester Hadley did not have any pictures.'
+
+"'But he must have had 'em,' says I, 'fer them papers an' magazines he
+worked for. He made 'em!'
+
+"She shook her head again; then she gave a queer hitch to her shoulders,
+and a little flourish with her hands.
+
+"'Oh--ze pictures! He did do them--once--a leetle: months ago.'
+
+"'But the prize,' says I. 'The prize ter James Hadley!'
+
+"Then she laughed as if she suddenly understood.
+
+"Oh, but it is ze grand mistake you are makin',' she cried, in her
+silly, outlandish way of talkin'. 'There is a Meester James Hadley, an'
+he does make pictures--beautiful pictures--but it is not this one. This
+Meester Hadley did try, long ago, but he failed to succeed, so my son
+said; an' he had to--to cease. For long time he has worked for me, for
+the grocer, for any one who would pay--till a leetle while ago. Then he
+left. In ze new clothes he had bought, he went away. Ze old ones--
+burned. He had nothing else.'
+
+"She said more, but I didn't even listen. I was back with Jimmy by the
+roadside, and his 'Don't--tell--the--folks' was ringin' in my ears. I
+understood it then, the whole thing from the beginnin'; an' I felt dazed
+an' shocked, as if some one had struck me a blow in the face. I wan't
+brought up ter think lyin' an' deceivin' was right.
+
+"I got up by an' by an' left the house. I paid poor Jimmy's bill fer
+clothes--the clothes that I knew he wore when he stood tall an' straight
+in the doorway ter meet his mother's adorin' eyes. Then I went home.
+
+"I told Sam that Jimmy's things got burned up in the fire--which was the
+truth. I stopped there. Then I went to see the girl--an' right there I
+got the surprise of my life. She knew. He had told her the whole thing
+long before he come home, an' insisted on givin' her up. Jest what he
+meant ter do in the end, an' how he meant ter do it, she didn't know;
+an' she said with a great sob in her voice, that she didn't believe he
+knew either. All he did know, apparently, was that he didn't mean his ma
+should find out an' grieve over it--how he had failed. But whatever he
+was goin' ter do, it was taken quite out of his hands at the last.
+
+"As fer Bessie, now,--it seems as if she can't do enough fer Sam an'
+Mis' Hadley, she's that good ter 'em; an' they set the world by her.
+She's got a sad, proud look to her eyes, but Jimmy's secret is safe.
+
+"As I said, I saw old Sam an' his wife in the cemetery to-night. They
+stopped me as usual, an' told me all over again what a good boy Jimmy
+was, an' how smart he was, an' what a lot he'd made of himself in the
+little time he'd lived. The Hadleys are old an' feeble an' broken, an'
+it's their one comfort--Jimmy's success."
+
+Uncle Zeke paused, and drew a long breath. Then he eyed me almost
+defiantly.
+
+"I ain't sayin' that Jimmy did right, of course; but I ain't sayin'--
+that Jimmy did wrong," he finished.
+
+
+
+
+A Summons Home
+
+
+
+Mrs. Thaddeus Clayton came softly into the room and looked with
+apprehensive eyes upon the little old man in the rocking-chair.
+
+"How be ye, dearie? Yer hain't wanted fer nothin', now, have ye?" she
+asked.
+
+"Not a thing, Harriet," he returned cheerily. "I'm feelin' real pert,
+too. Was there lots there? An' did Parson Drew say a heap o' fine
+things?"
+
+Mrs. Clayton dropped into a chair and pulled listlessly at the black
+strings of her bonnet.
+
+"'T was a beautiful fun'ral, Thaddeus--a beautiful fun'ral. I--I 'most
+wished it was mine."
+
+"Harriet!"
+
+She gave a shamed-faced laugh.
+
+"Well, I did--then Jehiel and Hannah Jane would 'a' come, an' I could
+'a' seen 'em."
+
+The horrified look on the old man's face gave way to a broad smile.
+
+"Oh, Harriet--Harriet!" he chuckled, "how could ye seen 'em if you was
+dead?"
+
+"Huh? Well, I--Thaddeus,"--her voice rose sharply in the silent room,--
+"every single one of them Perkins boys was there, and Annabel, too. Only
+think what poor Mis' Perkins would 'a' given ter seen 'em 'fore she
+went! But they waited--<i>waited,</i> Thaddeus, jest as everybody does,
+till their folks is dead."
+
+"But, Harriet," demurred the old man, "surely you'd 'a' had them boys
+come ter their own mother's fun'ral!"
+
+"Come! I'd 'a' had 'em come before, while Ella Perkins could 'a' feasted
+her eyes on 'em. Thaddeus,"--Mrs. Clayton rose to her feet and stretched
+out two gaunt hands longingly,--"Thaddeus, I get so hungry sometimes for
+Jehiel and Hannah Jane, seems as though I jest couldn't stand it!"
+
+"I know--I know, dearie," quavered the old man, vigorously polishing his
+glasses.
+
+"Fifty years ago my first baby came," resumed the woman in tremulous
+tones; "then another came, and another, till I'd had six. I loved 'em,
+an' tended 'em, an' cared fer 'em, an' didn't have a thought but was fer
+them babies. Four died,"--her voice broke, then went on with renewed
+strength,--"but I've got Jehiel and Hannah Jane left; at least, I've got
+two bits of paper that comes mebbe once a month, an' one of 'em's signed
+'your dutiful son, Jehiel,' an' the other, 'from your loving daughter,
+Hannah Jane.'"
+
+"Well, Harriet, they--they're pretty good ter write letters," ventured
+Mr. Clayton.
+
+"Letters!" wailed his wife. "I can't hug an' kiss letters, though I try
+to, sometimes. I want warm flesh an' blood in my arms, Thaddeus; I want
+ter look down into Jehiel's blue eyes an' hear him call me 'dear old
+mumsey!' as he used to. I wouldn't ask 'em ter stay--I ain't
+unreasonable, Thaddeus. I know they can't do that."
+
+"Well, well, wife, mebbe they'll come--mebbe they'll come this summer;
+who knows?"
+
+She shook her head dismally.
+
+"You've said that ev'ry year for the last fifteen summers, an' they
+hain't come yet. Jehiel went West more than twenty years ago, an' he's
+never been home since. Why, Thaddeus, we've got a grandson 'most
+eighteen, that we hain't even seen! Hannah Jane's been home jest once
+since she was married, but that was nigh on ter sixteen years ago. She's
+always writin' of her Tommy and Nellie, but--I want ter see 'em,
+Thaddeus; I want ter see 'em!"
+
+"Yes, yes; well, we'll ask 'em, Harriet, again--we'll ask 'em real
+urgent--like, an' mebbe that'll fetch 'em," comforted the old man.
+"We'll ask 'em ter be here the Fourth; that's eight weeks off yet, an' I
+shall be real smart by then."
+
+Two letters that were certainly "urgent-like" left the New England
+farmhouse the next morning. One was addressed to a thriving Western
+city, the other to Chattanooga, Tennessee.
+
+In course of time the answers came. Hannah Jane's appeared first, and
+was opened with shaking fingers.
+
+<i>Dear Mother</i> [read Mrs. Clayton aloud]: Your letter came two or
+three days ago, and I have hurried round to answer it, for you seemed to
+be so anxious to hear. I'm real sorry, but I don't see how we can get
+away this summer. Nathan is real busy at the store; and, some way, I
+can't seem to get up energy enough to even think of fixing up the
+children to take them so far. Thank you for the invitation, though, and
+we should enjoy the visit very much; but I guess we can't go just yet.
+Of course if anything serious should come up that made it necessary--
+why, that would be different: but I know you are sensible, and will
+understand how it is with us.
+
+Nathan is well, but business has been pretty brisk, and he is in the
+store early and late. As long as he's making money, he don't mind; but I
+tell him I think he might rest a little sometimes, and let some one else
+do the things he does.
+
+Tom is a big boy now, smart in his studies and with a good head for
+figures. Nellie loves her books, too; and, for a little girl of eleven,
+does pretty well, we think.
+
+I must close now. We all send love, and hope you are getting along all
+right. Was glad to hear father was gaining so fast.
+
+Your loving daughter
+
+HANNAH JANE
+
+The letter dropped from Mrs. Clayton's fingers and lay unheeded on the
+floor. The woman covered her face with her hands and rocked her body
+back and forth.
+
+"There, there, dearie," soothed the old man huskily; "mebbe Jehiel's
+will be diff'rent. I shouldn't wonder, now, if Jehiel would come. There,
+there! don't take on so, Harriet! don't! I jest know Jehiel'll come."
+
+A week later Mrs. Clayton found another letter in the rural delivery
+box. She clutched it nervously, peered at the writing with her dim old
+eyes, and hurried into the house for her glasses.
+
+Yes, it was from Jehiel.
+
+She drew a long breath. Her eager thumb was almost under the flap of the
+envelope when she hesitated, eyed the letter uncertainly, and thrust it
+into the pocket of her calico gown. All day it lay there, save at times--
+which, indeed, were of frequent occurrence--when she took it from its
+hiding-place, pressed it to her cheek, or gloried in every curve of the
+boldly written address.
+
+At night, after the lamp was lighted, she said to her husband in tones
+so low he could scarcely hear:
+
+"Thaddeus, I--I had a letter from Jehiel to-day."
+
+"You did--and never told me? Why, Harriet, what--" He paused helplessly.
+
+"I--I haven't read it, Thaddeus," she stammered. "I couldn't bear to,
+someway. I don't know why, but I couldn't. You read it!" She held out
+the letter with shaking hands.
+
+He took it, giving her a sharp glance from anxious eyes. As he began to
+read aloud she checked him.
+
+"No; ter yerself, Thaddeus--ter yerself! Then--tell me."
+
+As he read she watched his face. The light died from her eyes and her
+chin quivered as she saw the stern lines deepen around his mouth. A
+minute more, and he had finished the letter and laid it down without a
+word.
+
+"Thaddeus, ye don't mean--he didn't say--"
+
+"Read it--I--I can't," choked the old man.
+
+She reached slowly for the sheet of paper and spread it on the table
+before her.
+
+<i>Dear Mother</i> [Jehiel had written]: Just a word to tell you we are
+all O. K. and doing finely. Your letter reminded me that it was about
+time I was writing home to the old folks. I don't mean to let so many
+weeks go by without a letter from me, but somehow the time just gets
+away from me before I know it.
+
+Minnie is well and deep in spring sewing and house-cleaning. I know--
+because dressmaker's bills are beginning to come in, and every time I go
+home I find a carpet up in a new place!
+
+Our boy Fred is eighteen to-morrow. You'd be proud of him, I know, if
+you could see him. Business is rushing. Glad to hear you're all right
+and that father's rheumatism is on the gain.
+
+As ever, your affectionate and dutiful son, JEHIEL
+
+Oh, by the way--about that visit East. I reckon we'll have to call it
+off this year. Too bad; but can't seem to see my way clear.
+
+Bye-bye, J.
+
+Harriet Clayton did not cry this time. She stared at the letter long
+minutes with wide-open, tearless eyes, then she slowly folded it and put
+it back in its envelope.
+
+"Harriet, mebbe-" began the old man timidly.
+
+"Don't, Thaddeus--please don't!" she interrupted. "I--I don't want ter
+talk." And she rose unsteadily to her feet and moved toward the kitchen
+door.
+
+For a time Mrs. Clayton went about her work in a silence quite unusual,
+while her husband watched her with troubled eyes. His heart grieved over
+the bowed head and drooping shoulders, and over the blurred eyes that
+were so often surreptitiously wiped on a corner of the gingham apron.
+But at the end of a week the little old woman accosted him with a face
+full of aggressive yet anxious determination.
+
+"Thaddeus, I want ter speak ter you about somethin'. I've been thinkin'
+it all out, an' I've decided that I've got ter kill one of us off."
+
+"Harriet!"
+
+"Well, I have. A fun'ral is the only thing that will fetch Jehiel and--"
+
+"Harriet, are ye gone crazy? Have ye gone clean mad?"
+
+She looked at him appealingly.
+
+"Now, Thaddeus, don't try ter hender me, please. You see it's the only
+way. A fun'ral is the--"
+
+"A 'fun'ral'--it's murder!" he shuddered.
+
+"Oh, not ter make believe, as I shall," she protested eagerly. "It's--"
+
+"Make believe!"
+
+"Why, yes, of course. <i>You'll</i> have ter be the one ter do it,
+'cause I'm goin' ter be the dead one, an'--"
+
+"Harriet!"
+
+"There, there, <i>please,</i> Thaddeus! I've jest got ter see Jehiel and
+Hannah Jane 'fore I die!"
+
+"But--they--they'll come if--"
+
+"No, they won't come. We've tried it over an' over again; you know we
+have. Hannah Jane herself said that if anythin' 'serious' came up it
+would be diff'rent. Well, I'm goin' ter have somethin' 'serious' come
+up!"
+
+"But, Harriet--"
+
+"Now, Thaddeus," begged the woman, almost crying, "you must help me,
+dear. I've thought it all out, an' it's easy as can be. I shan't tell
+any lies, of course. I cut my finger to-day, didn't I?"
+
+"Why--yes--I believe so," he acknowledged dazedly; "but what has that to
+do--"
+
+"That's the 'accident,' Thaddeus. You're ter send two telegrams at once--
+one ter Jehiel, an' one ter Hannah Jane. The telegrams will say:
+'Accident to your mother. Funeral Saturday afternoon. Come at once.'
+That's jest ten words."
+
+The old man gasped. He could not speak.
+
+"Now, that's all true, ain't it?" she asked anxiously. "The 'accident'
+is this cut. The 'fun'ral' is old Mis' Wentworth's. I heard ter-day that
+they couldn't have it until Saturday, so that'll give us plenty of time
+ter get the folks here. I needn't say whose fun'ral it is that's goin'
+ter be on Saturday, Thaddeus! I want yer ter hitch up an' drive over ter
+Hopkinsville ter send the telegrams. The man's new over there, an' won't
+know yer. You couldn't send 'em from here, of course."
+
+Thaddeus Clayton never knew just how he allowed himself to be persuaded
+to take his part in this "crazy scheme," as he termed it, but persuaded
+he certainly was.
+
+It was a miserable time for Thaddeus then. First there was that hurried
+drive to Hopkinsville. Though the day was warm he fairly shivered as he
+handed those two fateful telegrams to the man behind the counter. Then
+there was the homeward trip, during which, like the guilty thing he was,
+he cast furtive glances from side to side.
+
+Even home itself came to be a misery, for the sweeping and the dusting
+and the baking and the brewing which he encountered there left him no
+place to call his own, so that he lost his patience at last and moaned:
+
+"Seems ter me, Harriet, you're a pretty lively corpse!"
+
+His wife smiled, and flushed a little.
+
+"There, there, dear! don't fret. Jest think how glad we'll be ter see
+'em!" she exclaimed.
+
+Harriet was blissfully happy. Both the children had promptly responded
+to the telegrams, and were now on their way. Hannah Jane, with her
+husband and two children, were expected on Friday evening; but Jehiel
+and his wife and boy could not possibly get in until early on the
+following morning.
+
+All this brought scant joy to Thaddeus. There was always hanging over
+him the dread horror of what he had done, and the fearful questioning as
+to how it was all going to end.
+
+Friday came, but a telegram at the last moment told of trains delayed
+and connections missed. Hannah Jane would not reach home until nine-
+forty the next morning. So it was with a four-seated carryall that
+Thaddeus Clayton started for the station on Saturday morning to meet
+both of his children and their families.
+
+The ride home was a silent one; but once inside the house, Jehiel and
+Hannah Jane, amid a storm of sobs and cries, besieged their father with
+questions.
+
+The family were all in the darkened sitting-room--all, indeed, save
+Harriet, who sat in solitary state in the chamber above, her face pale
+and her heart beating almost to suffocation. It had been arranged that
+she was not to be seen until some sort of explanation had been given.
+
+"Father, what was it?" sobbed Hannah Jane. "How did it happen?"
+
+"It must have been so sudden," faltered Jehiel. "It cut me up
+completely."
+
+"I can't ever forgive myself," moaned Hannah Jane hysterically. "She
+wanted us to come East, and I wouldn't. 'Twas my selfishness--'twas
+easier to stay where I was; and now--now--"
+
+"We've been brutes, father," cut in Jehiel, with a shake in his voice;
+"all of us. I never thought--I never dreamed-father, can--can we see--
+her?"
+
+In the chamber above a woman sprang to her feet. Harriet had quite
+forgotten the stove-pipe hole to the room below, and every sob and moan
+and wailing cry had been woefully distinct to her ears. With streaming
+eyes and quivering lips she hurried down the stairs and threw open the
+sitting-room door.
+
+"Jehiel! Hannah Jane! I'm here, right here--alive!" she cried. "An' I've
+been a wicked, wicked woman! I never thought how bad 'twas goin' ter
+make <i>you</i> feel. I truly never, never did. 'Twas only myself--I
+wanted yer so. Oh, children, children, I've been so wicked--so awful
+wicked!"
+
+Jehiel and Hannah Jane were steady of head and strong of heartland joy,
+it is said, never kills; otherwise, the results of that sudden
+apparition in the sitting-room doorway might have been disastrous.
+
+As it was, a wonderfully happy family party gathered around the table an
+hour later; and as Jehiel led a tremulous, gray-haired woman to the seat
+of honor, he looked into her shining eyes and whispered:
+
+"Dear old mumsey, now that we've found the way home again, I reckon
+we'll be coming every year--don't you?"
+
+
+
+
+The Black Silk Gowns
+
+
+
+The Heath twins, Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia, rose early that
+morning, and the world looked very beautiful to them--one does not buy
+a black silk gown every day; at least, Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia
+did not. They had waited, indeed, quite forty years to buy this one.
+
+The women of the Heath family had always possessed a black silk gown. It
+was a sort of outward symbol of inward respectability--an unfailing
+indicator of their proud position as members of one of the old families.
+It might be donned at any time after one's twenty-first birthday, and it
+should be donned always for funerals, church, and calls after one had
+turned thirty. Such had been the code of the Heath family for
+generations, as Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia well knew; and it was
+this that had made all the harder their own fate--that their twenty-
+first birthday was now forty years behind them, and not yet had either
+of them attained this <i>cachet</i> of respectability.
+
+To-day, however, there was to come a change. No longer need the
+carefully sponged and darned black alpaca gowns flaunt their wearers'
+poverty to the world, and no longer would they force these same wearers
+to seek dark corners and sunless rooms, lest the full extent of that
+poverty become known. It had taken forty years of the most rigid economy
+to save the necessary money; but it was saved now, and the dresses were
+to be bought. Long ago there had been enough for one, but neither of the
+women had so much as thought of the possibility of buying one silk gown.
+It was sometimes said in the town that if one of the Heath twins
+strained her eyes, the other one was obliged at once to put on glasses;
+and it is not to be supposed that two sisters whose sympathies were so
+delicately attuned would consent to appear clad one in new silk and the
+other in old alpaca.
+
+In spite of their early rising that morning, it was quite ten o'clock
+before Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia had brought the house into the
+state of speckless nicety that would not shame the lustrous things that
+were so soon to be sheltered beneath its roof. Not that either of the
+ladies expressed this sentiment in words, or even in their thoughts;
+they merely went about their work that morning with the reverent joy
+that a devoted priestess might feel in making ready a shrine for its
+idol. They had to hurry a little to get themselves ready for the eleven
+o'clock stage that passed their door; and they were still a little
+breathless when they boarded the train at the home station for the city
+twenty miles away--the city where were countless yards of shimmering
+silk waiting to be bought.
+
+In the city that night at least six clerks went home with an unusual
+weariness in their arms, which came from lifting down and displaying
+almost their entire stock of black silk. But with all the weariness,
+there was no irritation; there was only in their nostrils a curious
+perfume as of lavender and old lace, and in their hearts a strange
+exaltation as if they had that day been allowed a glad part in a sacred
+rite. As for Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia, they went home awed, yet
+triumphant: when one has waited forty years to make a purchase one does
+not make that purchase lightly.
+
+"To-morrow we will go over to Mis' Snow's and see about having them made
+up," said Miss Priscilla with a sigh of content, as the stage lumbered
+through the dusty home streets.
+
+"Yes; we want them rich, but plain," supplemented Miss Amelia,
+rapturously. "Dear me, Priscilla, but I am tired!"
+
+In spite of their weariness the sisters did not get to bed very early
+that night. They could not decide whether the top drawer of the spare-
+room bureau or the long box in the parlor closet would be the safer
+refuge for their treasure. And when the matter was decided, and the
+sisters had gone to bed, Miss Priscilla, after a prolonged discussion,
+got up and moved the silk to the other place, only to slip out of bed
+later, after a much longer discussion, and put it back. Even then they
+did not sleep well: for the first time in their lives they knew the
+responsibility that comes with possessions; they feared--burglars.
+
+With the morning sun, however, came peace and joy. No moth nor rust nor
+thief had appeared, and the lustrous lengths of shimmering silk defied
+the sun itself to find spot or blemish.
+
+"It looks even nicer than it did in the store, don't it?" murmured Miss
+Priscilla, ecstatically, as she hovered over the glistening folds that
+she had draped in riotous luxury across the chair-back.
+
+"Yes,--oh, yes!" breathed Miss Amelia. "Now let's hurry with the work so
+we can go right down to Mis' Snow's."
+
+<i>"Black</i> silk-<i>black</i> silk!" ticked the clock to Miss
+Priscilla washing dishes at the kitchen sink.
+
+"You've got a black <i>silk!</i> You've <i>got</i> a black <i>silk!"</i>
+chirped the robins to Miss Amelia looking for weeds in the garden.
+
+At ten o'clock the sisters left the house, each with a long brown parcel
+carefully borne in her arms. At noon--at noon the sisters were back
+again, still carrying the parcels. Their faces wore a look of mingled
+triumph and defeat.
+
+"As if we <i>could</i> have that beautiful silk put into a
+<i>plaited</i> skirt!" quavered Miss Priscilla, thrusting the key into
+the lock with a trembling hand. "Why, Amelia, plaits always crack!"
+
+"Of course they do!" almost sobbed Miss Amelia. "Only think of it,
+Priscilla, our silk--<i>cracked!</i>"
+
+"We will just wait until the styles change," said Miss Priscilla, with
+an air of finality. "They won't always wear plaits!"
+
+"And we know all the time that we've really got the dresses, only they
+aren't made up!" finished Miss Amelia, in tearful triumph.
+
+So the silk was laid away in two big rolls, and for another year the old
+black alpaca gowns trailed across the town's thresholds and down the
+aisle of the church on Sunday. Their owners no longer sought shadowed
+corners and sunless rooms, however; it was not as if one were
+<i>obliged</i> to wear sponged and darned alpacas!
+
+Plaits were "out" next year, and the Heath sisters were among the first
+to read it in the fashion notes. Once more on a bright spring morning
+Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia left the house tenderly bearing in their
+arms the brown-paper parcels--and once more they returned, the brown
+parcels still in their arms. There was an air of indecision about them
+this time.
+
+"You see, Amelia, it seemed foolish--almost wicked," Miss Priscilla was
+saying, "to put such a lot of that expensive silk into just sleeves."
+
+"I know it," sighed her sister.
+
+"Of course I want the dresses just as much as you do," went on Miss
+Priscilla, more confidently; "but when I thought of allowing Mis' Snow
+to slash into that beautiful silk and just waste it on those great
+balloon sleeves, I--I simply couldn't give my consent!--and 'tisn't as
+though we hadn't <i>got</i> the dresses!"
+
+"No, indeed!" agreed Miss Amelia, lifting her chin. And so once more the
+rolls of black silk were laid away in the great box that had already
+held them a year; and for another twelve months the black alpacas, now
+grown shabby indeed, were worn with all the pride of one whose garments
+are beyond reproach.
+
+When for the third time Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia returned to their
+home with the oblong brown parcels there was no indecision about them;
+there was only righteous scorn.
+
+"And do you really think that Mis' Snow <i>expected</i> us to allow that
+silk to be cut up into those skimpy little skin-tight bags she called
+skirts?" demanded Miss Priscilla, in a shaking voice. "Why, Amelia, we
+couldn't ever make them over!"
+
+"Of course we couldn't! And when skirts got bigger, what could we do?"
+cried Miss Amelia. "Why, I'd rather never have a black silk dress than
+to have one like that--that just couldn't be changed! We'll go on
+wearing the gowns we have. It isn't as if everybody didn't know we had
+these black silk dresses!"
+
+When the fourth spring came the rolls of silk were not even taken from
+their box except to be examined with tender care and replaced in the
+enveloping paper. Miss Priscilla was not well. For weeks she had spent
+most of her waking hours on the sitting-room couch, growing thiner,
+weaker, and more hollow-eyed.
+
+"You see, dear, I--I am not well enough now to wear it," she said
+faintly to her sister one day when they had been talking about the black
+silk gowns; "but you--" Miss Amelia had stopped her with a shocked
+gesture of the hand.
+
+"Priscilla--as if I could!" she sobbed. And there the matter had ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The townspeople were grieved, but not surprised, when they learned that
+Miss Amelia was fast following her sister into a decline. It was what
+they had expected of the Heath twins, they said, and they reminded one
+another of the story of the strained eyes and the glasses. Then came the
+day when the little dressmaker's rooms were littered from end to end
+with black silk scraps.
+
+"It's for Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia,'" said Mrs. Snow, with tears
+in her eyes, in answer to the questions that were asked.
+
+"It's their black silk gowns, you know."
+
+"But I thought they were ill--almost dying!" gasped the questioner.
+
+The little dressmaker nodded her head. Then she smiled, even while she
+brushed her eyes with her fingers.
+
+"They are--but they're happy. They're even happy in this!" touching the
+dress in her lap. "They've been forty years buying it, and four making
+it up. Never until now could they decide to use it; never until now
+could they be sure they wouldn't want to--to make it--over." The little
+dressmaker's voice broke, then went on tremulously: "There are folks
+like that, you know--that never enjoy a thing for what it is, lest
+sometime they might want it--different. Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia
+never took the good that was goin'; they've always saved it for
+sometime--later."
+
+
+
+
+A Belated Honeymoon
+
+
+
+The haze of a warm September day hung low over the house, the garden,
+and the dust-white road. On the side veranda a gray-haired, erect little
+figure sat knitting. After a time the needles began to move more and
+more slowly until at last they lay idle in the motionless, withered
+fingers.
+
+"Well, well, Abby, takin' a nap?" demanded a thin-chested, wiry old man
+coming around the corner of the house and seating himself on the veranda
+steps.
+
+The little old woman gave a guilty start and began to knit vigorously.
+
+"Dear me, no, Hezekiah. I was thinkin'." She hesitated a moment, then
+added, a little feverishly: "--it's ever so much cooler here than up ter
+the fair grounds now, ain't it, Hezekiah?"
+
+The old man threw a sharp look at her face. "Hm-m, yes," he said. "Mebbe
+'t is."
+
+From far down the road came the clang of a bell. As by common consent
+the old man and his wife got to their feet and hurried to the front of
+the house where they could best see the trolley-car as it rounded a
+curve and crossed the road at right angles.
+
+"Goes slick, don't it?" murmured the man.
+
+There was no answer. The woman's eyes were hungrily devouring the last
+glimpse of paint and polish.
+
+"An' we hain't been on 'em 't all yet, have we, Abby?" he continued.
+
+She drew a long breath.
+
+"Well, ye see, I--I hain't had time, Hezekiah," she rejoined
+apologetically.
+
+"Humph!" muttered the old man as they turned and walked back to their
+seats.
+
+For a time neither spoke, then Hezekiah Warden cleared his throat
+determinedly and faced his wife.
+
+"Look a' here, Abby," he began, "I'm agoin' ter say somethin' that has
+been 'most tumblin' off'n the end of my tongue fer mor'n a year. Jennie
+an' Frank are good an' kind an' they mean well, but they think 'cause
+our hair's white an' our feet ain't quite so lively as they once was,
+that we're jest as good as buried already, an' that we don't need
+anythin' more excitin' than a nap in the sun. Now, Abby, <i>didn't</i>
+ye want ter go ter that fair with the folks ter-day? Didn't ye?"
+
+A swift flush came into the woman's cheek.
+
+"Why, Hezekiah, it's ever so much cooler here, an'--" she paused
+helplessly.
+
+"Humph!" retorted the man, "I thought as much. It's always 'nice an'
+cool' here in summer an' 'nice an' warm' here in winter when Jennie goes
+somewheres that you want ter go an' don't take ye. An' when 't ain't
+that, you say you 'hain't had time.' I know ye! You'd talk any way ter
+hide their selfishness. Look a' here, Abby, did ye ever ride in them
+'lectric-cars? I mean anywheres?"
+
+"Well, I hain't neither, an', by ginger, I'm agoin' to!"
+
+"Oh, Hezekiah, Hezekiah, don't--swear!"
+
+"I tell ye, Abby, I will swear. It's a swearin' matter. Ever since I
+heard of 'em I wanted ter try 'em. An' here they are now 'most ter my
+own door an' I hain't even been in 'em once. Look a' here, Abby, jest
+because we're 'most eighty ain't no sign we've lost int'rest in things.
+I'm spry as a cricket, an' so be you, yet Frank an' Jennie expect us ter
+stay cooped up here as if we was old--really old, ninety or a hundred,
+ye know--an' 't ain't fair. Why, we <i>will</i> be old one of these
+days!"
+
+"I know it, Hezekiah."
+
+"We couldn't go much when we was younger," he resumed. "Even our weddin'
+trip was chopped right off short 'fore it even begun."
+
+A tender light came into the dim old eyes opposite.
+
+"I know, dear, an' what plans we had!" cried Abigail; "Boston, an'
+Bunker Hill, an' Faneuil Hall."
+
+The old man suddenly squared his shoulders and threw back his head.
+
+"Abby, look a' here! Do ye remember that money I've been savin' off an'
+on when I could git a dollar here an' there that was extra? Well,
+there's as much as ten of 'em now, an' I'm agoin' ter spend 'em--all of
+'em mebbe. I'm <i>agoin'</i> ter ride in them 'lectric-cars, an' so be
+you. An' I ain't goin' ter no old country fair, neither, an' no more be
+you. Look a' here, Abby, the folks are goin' again ter-morrer ter the
+fair, ain't they?"
+
+Abigail nodded mutely. Her eyes were beginning to shine.
+
+"Well," resumed Hezekiah, "when they go we'll be settin' in the sun
+where they say we'd oughter be. But we ain't agoin' ter stay there,
+Abby. We're goin' down the road an' git on them 'lectric-cars, an' when
+we git ter the Junction we're agoin' ter take the steam cars fer Boston.
+What if 'tis thirty miles! I calc'late we're equal to 'em. We'll have
+one good time, an' we won't come home until in the evenin'. We'll see
+Faneuil Hall an' Bunker Hill, an' you shall buy a new cap, an' ride in
+the subway. If there's a preachin' service we'll go ter that. They have
+'em sometimes weekdays, ye know."
+
+"Oh, Hezekiah, we--couldn't!" gasped the little old woman.
+
+"Pooh! 'Course we could. Listen!" And Hezekiah proceeded to unfold his
+plans more in detail.
+
+It was very early the next morning when the household awoke. By seven
+o'clock a two-seated carryall was drawn up to the side-door, and by a
+quarter past the carryall, bearing Jennie, Frank, the boys, and the
+lunch baskets, rumbled out of the yard and on to the high-way.
+
+"Now, keep quiet and don't get heated, mother," cautioned Jennie,
+looking back at the little gray-haired woman standing all alone on the
+side veranda.
+
+"Find a good cool spot to smoke your pipe in, father," called Frank, as
+an old man appeared in the doorway.
+
+There followed a shout, a clatter, and a cloud of dust--then silence.
+Fifteen minutes later, hand in hand, a little old man and a little old
+woman walked down the white road together.
+
+To most of the passengers on the trolley-car that day the trip was
+merely a necessary means to an end; to the old couple on the front seat
+it was something to be remembered and lived over all their lives. Even
+at the Junction the spell of unreality was so potent that the man forgot
+things so trivial as tickets, and marched into the car with head erect
+and eyes fixed straight ahead.
+
+It was after Hezekiah had taken out the roll of bills--all ones--to pay
+the fares to the conductor that a young man in a tall hat sauntered down
+the aisle and dropped into the seat in front.
+
+"Going to Boston, I take it," said the young man genially.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied Hezehiah, no less genially. "Ye guessed right the
+first time."
+
+Abigail lifted a cautious hand to her hair and her bonnet. So handsome
+and well-dressed a man would notice the slightest thing awry, she
+thought.
+
+"Hm-m," smiled the stranger. "I was so successful that time, suppose I
+try my luck again.--You don't go every day, I fancy, eh?"
+
+"Sugar! How'd he know that, now?" chuckled Hezekiah, turning to his wife
+in open glee. "So we don't, stranger, so we don't," he added, turning
+back to the man. "Ye hit it plumb right."
+
+"Hm-m! great place, Boston," observed the stranger. "I'm glad you're
+going. I think you'll enjoy it."
+
+The two wrinkled old faces before him fairly beamed.
+
+"I thank ye, sir," said Hezekiah heartily. "I call that mighty kind of
+ye, specially as there are them that thinks we're too old ter be
+enj'yin' of anythin'."
+
+"Old? Of course you're not too old! Why, you're just in the prime to
+enjoy things," cried the handsome man, and in the sunshine of his
+dazzling smile the hearts of the little old man and woman quite melted
+within them.
+
+"Thank ye, sir, thank ye sir," nodded Abigail, while Hezekiah offered
+his hand.
+
+"Shake, stranger, shake! An' I ain't too old, an' I'm agoin' ter prove
+it. I've got money, sir, heaps of it, an' I'm goin' ter spend it--mebbe
+I'll spend it all. We're agoin' ter see Bunker Hill an' Faneuil Hall,
+an' we're agoin' ter ride in the subway. Now, don't tell me we don't
+know how ter enj'y ourselves!"
+
+It was a very simple matter after that. On the one hand were infinite
+tact and skill; on the other, innocence, ignorance, and an overwhelming
+gratitude for this sympathetic companionship.
+
+Long before Boston was reached Mr. and Mrs. Warden and "Mr. Livingstone"
+were on the best of terms, and when they separated at the foot of the
+car-steps, to the old man and woman it seemed that half their joy and
+all their courage went with the smiling man who lifted his hat in
+farewell before being lost to sight in the crowd.
+
+"There, Abby, we're here!" announced Hezekiah with an exultation that
+was a little forced. "Gorry! There must be somethin' goin' on ter-day,"
+he added, as he followed the long line of people down the narrow passage
+between the cars.
+
+There was no reply. Abigail's cheeks were pink and her bonnet-strings
+untied. Her eyes, wide opened and frightened, were fixed on the swaying,
+bobbing crowds ahead. In the great waiting-room she caught her husband's
+arm.
+
+"Hezekiah, we can't, we mustn't ter-day," she whispered. "There's such a
+crowd. Let's go home an' come when it's quieter."
+
+"But, Abby, we--here, let's set down," Hezekiah finished helplessly.
+
+Near one of the outer doors Mr. Livingstone--better known to his friends
+and the police as "Slick Bill"--smiled behind his hand. Not once since
+he had left them had Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Warden been out of his sight.
+
+"What's up, Bill? Need assistance?" demanded a voice at his elbow.
+
+"Jim, by all that's lucky!" cried Livingstone, turning to greet a dapper
+little man in gray. "Sure I need you! It's a peach, though I doubt if we
+get much but fun, but there'll be enough of that to make up. Oh, he's
+got money--'heaps of it,' he says," laughed Livingstone, "and I saw a
+roll of bills myself. But I advise you not to count too much on that,
+though it'll be easy enough to get what there is, all right. As for the
+fun, Jim, look over by that post near the parcel window."
+
+"Great Scott! Where'd you pick 'em?" chuckled the younger man.
+
+"Never mind," returned the other with a shrug. "Meet me at Clyde's in
+half an hour. We'll be there, never fear."
+
+Over by the parcel-room an old man looked about him with anxious eyes.
+
+"But, Abby, don't ye see?" he urged. "We've come so fer, seems as though
+we oughter do the rest all right. Now, you jest set here an' let me go
+an' find out how ter git there. We'll try fer Bunker Hill first, 'cause
+we want ter see the munurmunt sure."
+
+He rose to his feet only to be pulled back by his wife.
+
+"Hezekiah Warden!" she almost sobbed. "If you dare ter stir ten feet
+away from me I'll never furgive ye as long as I live. We'd never find
+each other ag'in!"
+
+"Well, well, Abby," soothed the man with grim humor, "if we never found
+each other ag'in, I don't see as 'twould make much diff'rence whether ye
+furgived me or not!"
+
+For another long minute they silently watched the crowd. Then Hezekiah
+squared his shoulders.
+
+"Come, come, Abby," he said, "this ain't no way ter do. Only think how
+we wanted ter git here an' now we're here an' don't dare ter stir. There
+ain't any less folks than there was--growin' worse, if anythin'--but I'm
+gittin' used ter 'em now, an' I'm goin' ter make a break. Come, what
+would Mr. Livin'stone say if he could see us now? Where'd he think our
+boastin' was about our bein' able ter enj'y ourselves? Come!" And once
+more he rose to his feet.
+
+This time he was not held back. The little woman at his side adjusted
+her bonnet, tilted up her chin, and in her turn rose to her feet.
+
+"Sure enough!" she quavered bravely. "Come, Hezekiah, we'll ask the way
+ter Bunker Hill." And, holding fast to her husband's coat sleeve, she
+tripped across the floor to one of the outer doors.
+
+On the sidewalk Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Warden came once more to a halt.
+Before them swept an endless stream of cars, carriages, and people.
+Above thundered the elevated railway cars.
+
+"Oh-h," shuddered Abigail and tightened her grasp on her husband's coat.
+
+It was some minutes before Hezekiah's dry tongue and lips could frame
+his question, and then his words were so low-spoken and indistinct that
+the first two men he asked did not hear. The third man frowned and
+pointed to a policeman. The fourth snapped: "Take the elevated for
+Charlestown or the trolley-cars, either;" all of which served but to
+puzzle Hezekiah the more.
+
+Little by little the dazed old man and his wife fell back before the
+jostling crowds. They were quite against the side of the building when
+Livingstone spoke to them.
+
+"Well, well, if here aren't my friends again!" he exclaimed cordially.
+
+There was something of the fierceness of a drowning man in the way
+Hezekiah took hold of that hand.
+
+<i>"Mr. Livin'stone!"</i> he cried; then he recollected himself. "We was
+jest goin' ter Bunker Hill," he said jauntily.
+
+"Yes?" smiled Livingstone. "But your luncheon--aren't you hungry? Come
+with me; I was just going to get mine."
+
+"But you--I--" Hezekiah paused and looked doubtingly at his wife.
+
+"Indeed, my dear Mrs. Warden, you'll say 'Yes,' I know," urged
+Livingstone suavely. "Only think how good a nice cup of tea would taste
+now."
+
+"I know, but--" She glanced at her husband.
+
+"Nonsense! Of course you'll come," insisted Livingstone, laying a gently
+compelling hand on the arm of each.
+
+Fifteen minutes later Hezekiah stood looking about him with wondering
+eyes.
+
+"Well, well, Abby, ain't this slick?" he cried.
+
+His wife did not reply. The mirrors, the lights, the gleaming silver and
+glass had filled her with a delight too great for words. She was vaguely
+conscious of her husband, of Mr. Livingstone, and of a smooth-shaven
+little man in gray who was presented as "Mr. Harding." Then she found
+herself seated at that wonderful table, while beside her chair stood an
+awesome being who laid a printed card before her. With a little ecstatic
+sigh she gave Hezekiah her customary signal for the blessing and bowed
+her head.
+
+"There!" exulted Livingstone aloud. "Here we--" He stopped short. From
+his left came a deep-toned, reverent voice invoking the divine blessing
+upon the place, the food, and the new friends who were so kind to
+strangers in a strange land.
+
+"By Jove!" muttered Livingstone under his breath, as his eyes met those
+of Jim across the table. The waiter coughed and turned his back. Then,
+the blessing concluded, Hezekiah raised his head and smiled.
+
+"Well, well, Abby, why don't ye say somethin'?" he asked, breaking the
+silence. "Ye hain't said a word. Mr. Livin'stone'll be thinkin' ye don't
+like it."
+
+Mrs. Warden drew a long breath of delight.
+
+"I can't say anythin', Hezekiah," she faltered. "It's all so beautiful."
+
+Livingstone waited until the dazed old eyes had become in a measure
+accustomed to the surroundings, then he turned a smiling face on
+Hezekiah.
+
+"And now, my friend, what do you propose to do after luncheon?" he
+asked.
+
+"Well, we cal'late ter take in Bunker Hill an' Faneuil Hall sure,"
+returned the old man with a confidence that told of new courage imbibed
+with his tea. "Then we thought mebbe we'd ride in the subway an' hear
+one of the big preachers if they happened ter be holdin' meetin's
+anywheres this week. Mebbe you can tell us, eh?"
+
+Across the table the man called Harding choked over his food and
+Livingstone frowned.
+
+"Well," began Livingstone slowly.
+
+"I think," interrupted Harding, taking a newspaper from his pocket, "I
+think there are services there," he finished gravely, pointing to the
+glaring advertisement of a ten-cent show, as he handed the paper across
+to Livingstone.
+
+"But what time do the exercises begin?" demanded Hezekiah in a troubled
+voice. "Ye see, there's Bunker Hill an'--sugar! Abby, ain't that
+pretty?" he broke off delightedly. Before him stood a slender glass into
+which the waiter was pouring something red and sparkling.
+
+The old lady opposite grew white, then pink. "Of course that ain't wine,
+Mr. Livingstone?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"Give yourself no uneasiness, my dear Mrs. Warden," interposed Harding.
+"It's lemonade--pink lemonade."
+
+"Oh," she returned with a relieved sigh. "I ask yer pardon, I'm sure.
+You wouldn't have it, 'course, no more'n I would. But, ye see, bein'
+pledged so, I didn't want ter make a mistake."
+
+There was an awkward silence, then Harding raised his glass.
+
+"Here's to your health, Mrs. Warden!" he cried gayly. "May your trip----"
+
+"Wait!" she interrupted excitedly, her old eyes alight and her cheeks
+flushed. "Let me tell ye first what this trip is ter us, then ye'll have
+a right ter wish us good luck."
+
+Harding lowered his glass and turned upon her a gravely attentive face.
+
+"'Most fifty years ago we was married, Hezekiah an' me," she began
+softly. "We'd saved, both of us, an' we'd planned a honeymoon trip. We
+was comin' ter Boston. They didn't have any 'lectric-cars then nor any
+steam-cars only half-way. But we was comin' an' we was plannin' on
+Bunker Hill an' Faneuil Hall, an' I don't know what all."
+
+The little lady paused for breath and Harding stirred uneasily in his
+chair. Livingstone did not move. His eyes were fixed on a mirror across
+the room. Over at the sideboard the waiter vigorously wiped a bottle.
+
+"Well, we was married," continued the tremulous voice, "an' not half an
+hour later mother fell down the cellar stairs an' broke her hip. Of
+course that stopped things right short. I took off my weddin' gown an'
+put on my old red caliker an' went ter work. Hezekiah came right there
+an' run the farm an' I nursed mother an' did the work. 'T was more'n a
+year 'fore she was up 'round, an' after that, what with the babies an'
+all, there didn't never seem a chance when Hezekiah an' me could take
+this trip.
+
+"If we went anywhere we couldn't seem ter manage ter go tergether, an'
+we never stayed fer no sight-seein'. Late years my Jennie an' her
+husband seemed ter think we didn't need nothin' but naps an' knittin',
+an' somehow we got so we jest couldn't stand it. We wanted ter go
+somewhere an' see somethin', so."
+
+Mrs. Warden paused, drew a long breath, and resumed. Her voice now had a
+ring of triumph.
+
+"Well, last month they got the 'lectric-cars finished down our way. We
+hadn't been on 'em, neither of us. Jennie an' Frank didn't seem ter want
+us to. They said they was shaky an' noisy an' would tire us all out. But
+yesterday, when the folks was gone, Hezekiah an' me got ter talkin' an'
+thinkin' how all these years we hadn't never had that honeymoon trip,
+an' how by an' by we'd be old--real old, I mean, so's we couldn't take
+it--an' all of a sudden we said we'd take it now, right now. An' we did.
+We left a note fer the children, an'--an' we're here!"
+
+There was a long silence. Over at the side-board the waiter still
+polished his bottle. Livingstone did not even turn his head. Finally
+Harding raised his glass.
+
+"We'll drink to honeymoon trips in general and to this one in
+particular," he cried, a little constrainedly.
+
+Mrs. Warden flushed, smiled, and reached for her glass. The pink
+lemonade was almost at her lips when Livingstone's arm shot out. Then
+came the tinkle of shattered glass and a crimson stain where the wine
+trailed across the damask.
+
+"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Livingstone, while the other men lowered
+their glasses in surprise. "That was an awkward slip of mine, Mrs.
+Warden. I must have hit your arm."
+
+"But, Bill," muttered Harding under his breath, "you don't mean--"
+
+"But I do," corrected Livingstone quietly, looking straight into
+Harding's amazed eyes.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Warden are my guests. They are going to drive to Bunker
+Hill with me by and by."
+
+When the six o'clock accommodation train pulled out from Boston that
+night it bore a little old man and a little old woman, gray-haired,
+weary, but blissfully content.
+
+"We've seen 'em all, Hezekiah, ev'ry single one of 'em," Abigail was
+saying. "An' wan't Mr. Livingstone good, a-gittin' that carriage an'
+takin' us ev'rywhere; an' it bein' open so all 'round the sides, we
+didn't miss seein' a single thing!"
+
+"He was, Abby, he was, an' he wouldn't let me pay one cent!" cried
+Hezekiah, taking out his roll of bills and patting it lovingly. "But,
+Abby, did ye notice? 'Twas kind o' queer we never got one taste of that
+pink lemonade. The waiter-man took it away."
+
+
+
+
+When Aunt Abby Waked Up
+
+
+
+The room was very still. The gaunt figure on the bed lay motionless save
+for a slight lifting of the chest at long intervals. The face was turned
+toward the wall, leaving a trail of thin gray hair-wisps across the
+pillow. Just outside the door two physicians talked together in low
+tones, with an occasional troubled glance toward the silent figure on
+the bed.
+
+"If there could be something that would rouse her," murmured one;
+"something that would prick her will-power and goad it into action! But
+this lethargy--this wholesale giving up!" he finished with a gesture of
+despair.
+
+"I know," frowned the other; "and I've tried--day after day I've tried.
+But there's nothing. I've exhausted every means in my power. I didn't
+know but you--" He paused questioningly.
+
+The younger man shook his head.
+
+"No," he said. "If you can't, I can't. You've been her physician for
+years. If anyone knows how to reach her, you should know. I suppose
+you've thought of--her son?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Jed was sent for long ago, but he had gone somewhere into the
+interior on a prospecting trip, and was very hard to reach. It is
+doubtful if word gets to him at all until--too late. As you know,
+perhaps, it is rather an unfortunate case. He has not been home for
+years, anyway, and the Nortons--James is Mrs. Darling's nephew--have
+been making all the capital they can out of it, and have been
+prejudicing her against him--quite unjustly, in my opinion, for I think
+it's nothing more nor less than thoughtlessness on the boy's part."
+
+"Hm-m; too bad, too bad!" murmured the other, as he turned and led the
+way to the street door.
+
+Back in the sick-room the old woman still lay motionless on the bed. She
+was wondering--as she had wondered so often before--why it took so long
+to die. For days now she had been trying to die, decently and in order.
+There was really no particular use in living, so far as she could see.
+Ella and Jim were very kind; but, after all, they were not Jed, and Jed
+was away--hopelessly away. He did not even want to come back, so Ella
+and Jim said.
+
+There was the money, too. She did not like to think of the money. It
+seemed to her that every nickel and dime and quarter that she had
+painfully wrested from the cost of keeping soul and body together all
+these past years lay now on her breast with a weight that crushed like
+lead. She had meant that money for Jed. Ella and Jim were kind, of
+course, and she was willing they should have it; yet Jed--but Jed was
+away.
+
+And she was so tired. She had ceased to rouse herself, either for the
+medicine or for the watery broths they forced through her lips. It was
+so hopelessly dragged out--this dying; yet it must be over soon. She had
+heard them tell the neighbors only yesterday that she was unconscious
+and that she did not know a thing of what was passing around her; and
+she had smiled--but only in her mind. Her lips, she knew, had not moved.
+
+They were talking now--Ella and Jim--out in the other room. Their
+voices, even their words, were quite distinct, and dreamily,
+indifferently, she listened.
+
+"You see," said Jim, "as long as I've got ter go ter town ter-morrer,
+anyhow, it seems a pity not ter do it all up at once. I could order the
+coffin an' the undertaker--it's only a question of a few hours, anyway,
+an' it seems such a pity ter make another trip--jest fer that!"
+
+In the bedroom the old woman stirred suddenly. Somewhere, away back
+behind the consciousness of things, something snapped, and sent the
+blood tingling from toes to fingertips. A fierce anger sprang instantly
+into life and brushed the cobwebs of lethargy and indifference from her
+brain. She turned and opened her eyes, fixing them upon the oblong patch
+of light that marked the doorway leading to the room beyond where sat
+Ella and Jim.
+
+"Jest fer that," Jim had said, and "that" was her death. It was not
+worth, it seemed, even an extra trip to town! And she had done so much--
+so much for those two out there!
+
+"Let's see; ter-day's Monday," Jim went on. "We might fix the fun'ral
+for Saturday, I guess, an' I'll tell the folks at the store ter spread
+it. Puttin' it on Sat'day'll give us a leetle extry time if she
+shouldn't happen ter go soon's we expect--though there ain't much fear
+o' that now, I guess, she's so low. An' it'll save me 'most half a day
+ter do it all up this trip. I ain't--what's that?" he broke off sharply.
+
+From the inner room had seemed to come a choking, inarticulate cry.
+
+With a smothered ejaculation Jim picked up the lamp, hurried into the
+sick-room, and tiptoed to the bed. The gaunt figure lay motionless, face
+to the wall, leaving a trail of thin gray hair-wisps across the pillow.
+
+"Gosh!" muttered the man as he turned away.
+
+"There's nothin' doin'-but it did give me a start!"
+
+On the bed the woman smiled grimly--but the man did not see it.
+
+It was snowing hard when Jim got back from town Tuesday night. He came
+blustering into the kitchen with stamping feet and wide-flung arms,
+scattering the powdery whiteness in all directions.
+
+"Whew! It's a reg'lar blizzard," he began, but he stopped short at the
+expression on his wife's face. "Why, Ella!" he cried.
+
+"Jim--Aunt Abby sat up ten minutes in bed ter-day. She called fer toast
+an' tea."
+
+Jim dropped into a chair. His jaw fell open.
+
+"S-sat up!" he stammered.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But she--hang it all, Herrick's comin' ter-morrer with the coffin!"
+
+"Oh, Jim!"
+
+"Well, I can't help it! You know how she was this mornin'," retorted Jim
+sharply. "I thought she <i>was</i> dead once. Why, I 'most had Herrick
+come back with me ter-night, I was so sure."
+
+"I know it," shivered Ella, "but you hadn't been gone an hour 'fore she
+began to stir an' notice things. I found her lookin' at me first, an' it
+give me such a turn I 'most dropped the medicine bottle in my hand. I
+was clearin' off the little table by her bed, an' she was followin' me
+around with them big gray eyes. 'Slickin' up?' she asks after a minute;
+an' I could 'a' dropped right there an' then, 'cause I <i>was</i>
+slickin' up, fer her fun'ral. 'Where's Jim?' she asks then. 'Gone ter
+town,' says I, kind o' faint-like. 'Umph!' she says, an' snaps her lips
+tight shet. After a minute she opens 'em again. 'I think I'll have some
+tea and toast,' she says, casual-like, jest as if she'd been callin' fer
+victuals ev'ry day fer a month past. An' when I brought it, if she
+didn't drag herself up in bed an' call fer a piller to her back, so's
+she could set up. An' there she stayed, pantin' an' gaspin', but
+<i>settin' up</i>--an' she stayed there till the toast an' tea was
+gone."
+
+"Gosh!" groaned Jim. "Who'd 'a' thought it? 'Course 't ain't that I grudge
+the old lady's livin'," he added hurriedly, "but jest now it's so--
+unhandy, things bein' as they be. We can't very well--" He stopped, a
+swift change coming to his face. "Say, Ella," he cried, "mebbe it's jest
+a spurt 'fore--'fore the last. Don't it happen some-times that way--when
+folks is dyin'?"
+
+"I don't know," shuddered Ella. "Sh-h! I thought I heard her." And she
+hurried across the hall to the sitting-room and the bedroom beyond.
+
+It did not snow much through the night, but in the early morning it
+began again with increased severity. The wind rose, too, and by the time
+Herrick, the undertaker, drove into the yard, the storm had become a
+blizzard.
+
+"I calc'lated if I didn't git this 'ere coffin here purty quick there
+wouldn't be no gettin' it here yet awhile," called Herrick cheerfully,
+as Jim came to the door.
+
+Jim flushed and raised a warning hand.
+
+"Sh-h! Herrick, look out!" he whispered hoarsely. "She ain't dead yet.
+You'll have ter go back."
+
+"Go back!" snorted Herrick. "Why, man alive, 'twas as much as my life's
+worth to get here. There won't be no goin' back yet awhile fer me nor no
+one else, I calc'late. An' the quicker you get this 'ere coffin in out
+of the snow, the better't will be," he went on authoritatively as he
+leaped to the ground.
+
+It was not without talk and a great deal of commotion that the untimely
+addition to James Norton's household effects was finally deposited in
+the darkened parlor; neither was it accomplished without some echo of
+the confusion reaching the sick-room, despite all efforts of
+concealment. Jim, perspiring, redfaced, and palpably nervous, was
+passing on tiptoe through the sitting-room when a quavering voice from
+the bedroom brought him to a halt.
+
+"Jim, is that you?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt Abby."
+
+"Who's come?"
+
+Jim's face grew white, then red.
+
+"C-ome?" he stammered.
+
+"Yes, I heard a sleigh and voices. Who is it?"
+
+"Why, jest-jest a man on--on business," he flung over his shoulder, as
+he fled through the hall.
+
+Not half an hour later came Ella's turn. In accordance with the sick
+woman's orders she had prepared tea, toast, and a boiled egg; but she
+had not set the tray on the bed when the old woman turned upon her two
+keen eyes.
+
+"Who's in the kitchen, Ella, with Jim?"
+
+Ella started guiltily.
+
+"Why, jest a--a man."
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+Ella hesitated; then, knowing that deceit was useless, she stammered out
+the truth.
+
+"Why, er--only Mr. Herrick."
+
+"Not William Herrick, the undertaker!" There was apparently only pleased
+surprise in the old woman's voice.
+
+"Yes," nodded Ella feverishly, "he had business out this way, and--and
+got snowed up," she explained with some haste.
+
+"Ye don't say," murmured the old woman. "Well, ask him in; I'd like ter
+see him."
+
+"Aunt Abby!"--Ella's teeth fairly chattered with dismay.
+
+"Yes, I'd like ter see him," repeated the old woman with cordial
+interest. "Call him in."
+
+And Ella could do nothing but obey.
+
+Herrick, however, did not stay long in the sick-room. The situation was
+uncommon for him, and not without its difficulties. As soon as possible
+he fled to the kitchen, telling Jim that it gave him "the creeps" to
+have her ask him where he'd started for, and if business was good.
+
+All that day it snowed and all that night; nor did the dawn of Friday
+bring clear skies. For hours the wind had swept the snow from roofs and
+hilltops, piling it into great drifts that grew moment by moment deeper
+and more impassable.
+
+In the farmhouse Herrick was still a prisoner.
+
+The sick woman was better. Even Jim knew now that it was no momentary
+flare of the candle before it went out. Mrs. Darling was undeniably
+improving in health. She had sat up several times in bed, and had begun
+to talk of wrappers and slippers. She ate toast, eggs, and jellies, and
+hinted at chicken and beefsteak. She was weak, to be sure, but behind
+her, supporting and encouraging, there seemed to be a curious strength--
+a strength that sent a determined gleam to her eyes, and a grim
+tenseness to her lips.
+
+At noon the sun came out, and the wind died into fitful gusts. The two
+men attacked the drifts with a will, and made a path to the gate. They
+even attempted to break out the road, and Herrick harnessed his horse
+and started for home; but he had not gone ten rods before he was forced
+to turn back.
+
+"'T ain't no use," he grumbled. "I calc'late I'm booked here till the
+crack o' doom!"
+
+"An' ter-morrer's the fun'ral," groaned Jim. "An' I can't git nowhere--
+<i>nowhere</i> ter tell 'em not ter come!"
+
+"Well, it don't look now as if anybody'd come--or go," snapped the
+undertaker.
+
+Saturday dawned fair and cold. Early in the morning the casket was moved
+from the parlor to the attic.
+
+There had been sharp words at the breakfast table, Herrick declaring
+that he had made a sale, and refusing to take the casket back to town;
+hence the move to the attic; but in spite of their caution, the sick
+woman heard the commotion.
+
+"What ye been cartin' upstairs?" she asked in a mildly curious voice.
+
+Ella was ready for her.
+
+"A chair," she explained smoothly; "the one that was broke in the front
+room, ye know." And she did not think it was necessary to add that the
+chair was not all that had been moved. She winced and changed color,
+however, when her aunt observed:
+
+"Humph! Must be you're expectin' company, Ella."
+
+It was almost two o'clock when loud voices and the crunch of heavy teams
+told that the road-breakers had come. All morning the Nortons had been
+hoping against hope that the fateful hour would pass, and the road be
+still left in unbroken whiteness. Someone, however, had known his duty
+too well--and had done it.
+
+"I set ter work first thing on this road," said the man triumphantly to
+Ella as he stood, shovel in hand, at the door. "The parson's right
+behind, an' there's a lot more behind him. Gorry! I was afraid I
+wouldn't git here in time, but the fun'ral wan't till two, was it?"
+
+Ella's dry lips refused to move. She shook her head.
+
+"There's a mistake," she said faintly. "There ain't no fun'ral. Aunt
+Abby's better."
+
+The man stared, then he whistled softly.
+
+"Gorry!" he muttered, as he turned away.
+
+If Jim and Ella had supposed that they could keep their aunt from
+attending her own "funeral"--as Herrick persisted in calling it--they
+soon found their mistake. Mrs. Darling heard the bells of the first
+arrival.
+
+"I guess mebbe I'll git up an' set up a spell," she announced calmly to
+Ella. "I'll have my wrapper an' my slippers, an' I'll set in the big
+chair out in the settin'-room. That's Parson Gerry's voice, an' I want
+ter see him."
+
+"But, Aunt Abby--" began Ella, feverishly.
+
+"Well, I declare, if there ain't another sleigh drivin' in," cried the
+old woman excitedly, sitting up in bed and peering through the little
+window. "Must be they're givin' us a s'prise party. Now hurry, Ella, an'
+git them slippers. I ain't a-goin' to lose none o' the fun!" And Ella,
+nervous, perplexed, and thoroughly frightened, did as she was bid.
+
+In state, in the big rocking-chair, the old woman received her guests.
+She said little, it is true, but she was there; and if she noticed that
+no guest entered the room without a few whispered words from Ella in the
+hall, she made no sign. Neither did she apparently consider it strange
+that ten women and six men should have braved the cold to spend fifteen
+rather embarrassed minutes in her sitting-room--and for this last both
+Ella and Jim were devoutly grateful. They could not help wondering about
+it, however, after she had gone to bed, and the house was still.
+
+"What do ye s'pose she thought?" whispered Jim.
+
+"I don't know," shivered Ella, "but, Jim, wan't it awful?--Mis' Blair
+brought a white wreath--everlastin's!"
+
+One by one the days passed, and Jim and Ella ceased to tremble every
+time the old woman opened her lips. There was still that fearsome thing
+in the attic, but the chance of discovery was small now.
+
+"If she <i>should</i> find out," Ella had said, "'twould be the end of
+the money--fer us."
+
+"But she ain't a-goin' ter find out," Jim had retorted. "She can't last
+long, 'course, an' I guess she won't change the will now--unless some
+one tells her; an' I'll be plaguy careful there don't no one do that!"
+
+The "funeral" was a week old when Mrs. Darling came into the sitting-
+room one day, fully dressed.
+
+"I put on all my clo's," she said smilingly, in answer to Ella's shocked
+exclamation. "I got restless, somehow, an' sick o' wrappers. Besides, I
+wanted to walk around the house a little. I git kind o' tired o' jest
+one room." And she limped across the floor to the hall door.
+
+"But, Aunt Abby, where ye goin' now?" faltered Ella.
+
+"Jest up in the attic. I wanted ter see--" She stopped in apparent
+surprise. Ella and Jim had sprung to their feet.
+
+"The attic!" they gasped.
+
+"Yes, I--"
+
+"But you mustn't!--you ain't strong enough!--you'll fall!--there's
+nothin' there!" they exclaimed wildly, talking both together and
+hurrying forward.
+
+"Oh, I guess 't won't kill me," said the old woman; and something in the
+tone of her voice made them fall back. They were still staring into each
+other's eyes when the hall door closed sharply behind her.
+
+"It's all--up!" breathed Jim.
+
+Fully fifteen minutes passed before the old woman came back. She entered
+the room quietly, and limped across the floor to the chair by the
+window.
+
+"It's real pretty," she said. "I allers did like gray."
+
+"Gray?" stammered Ella.
+
+"Yes!--fer coffins, ye know." Jim made a sudden movement, and started to
+speak; but the old woman raised her hand. "You don't need ter say
+anythin'," she interposed cheerfully. "I jest wanted ter make sure where
+'twas, so I went up. You see, Jed's comin' home, an' I thought he might
+feel--queer if he run on to it, casual-like."
+
+"Jed--comin' home!"
+
+The old woman smiled oddly.
+
+"Oh, I didn't tell ye, did I? The doctor had this telegram yesterday,
+an' brought it over to me. Ye know he was here last night. Read it." And
+she pulled from her pocket a crumpled slip of paper. And Jim read:
+
+Shall be there the 8th. For God's sake don't let me be too late.
+
+J. D. DARLING
+
+
+
+Wristers for Three
+
+
+
+The great chair, sumptuous with satin-damask and soft with springs,
+almost engulfed the tiny figure of the little old lady. To the old lady
+herself it suddenly seemed the very embodiment of the luxurious ease
+against which she was so impotently battling. With a spasmodic movement
+she jerked herself to her feet, and stood there motionless save for the
+wistful sweep of her eyes about the room.
+
+A level ray from the setting sun shot through the window, gilding the
+silver of her hair and deepening the faint pink of her cheek; on the
+opposite wall it threw a sharp silhouette of the alert little figure--
+that figure which even the passage of years had been able to bend so
+very little to its will. For a moment the lace kerchief folded across
+the black gown rose and fell tumultuously; then its wearer crossed the
+room and seated herself with uncompromising discomfort in the only
+straight-backed chair the room contained. This done, Mrs. Nancy
+Wetherby, for the twentieth time, went over in her mind the whole
+matter.
+
+For two weeks, now, she had been a member of her son John's family--two
+vain, unprofitable weeks. When before that had the sunset found her
+night after night with hands limp from a long day of idleness? When
+before that had the sunrise found her morning after morning with a mind
+destitute of worthy aim or helpful plan for the coming twelve hours?
+When, indeed?
+
+Not in her girlhood, not even in her childhood, had there been days of
+such utter uselessness--rag dolls and mud pies need <i>some</i> care! As
+for her married life, there were Eben, the babies, the house, the
+church--and how absolutely necessary she had been to each one!
+
+The babies had quickly grown to stalwart men and sweet-faced women who
+had as quickly left the home nest and built new nests of their own. Eben
+had died; and the church--strange how long and longer still the walk to
+the church had grown each time she had walked it this last year! After
+all, perhaps it did not matter; there were new faces at the church, and
+young, strong hands that did not falter and tremble over these new ways
+of doing things. For a time there had been only the house that needed
+her--but how great that need had been! There were the rooms to care for,
+there was the linen to air, there were the dear treasures of picture and
+toy to cry and laugh over; and outside there were the roses to train and
+the pansies to pick.
+
+Now, even the house was not left. It was October, and son John had told
+her that winter was coming on and she must not remain alone. He had
+brought her to his own great house and placed her in these beautiful
+rooms--indeed, son John was most kind to her! If only she could make
+some return, do something, be of some use!
+
+Her heart failed her as she thought of the grave-faced, preoccupied man
+who came each morning into the room with the question, "Well, mother, is
+there anything you need to-day?" What possible service could <i>she</i>
+render <i>him?</i> Her heart failed her again as she thought of John's
+pretty, new wife, and of the two big boys, men grown, sons of dear dead
+Molly. There was the baby, to be sure; but the baby was always attended
+by one, and maybe two, white-capped, white-aproned young women. Madam
+Wetherby never felt quite sure of herself when with those young women.
+There were other young women, too, in whose presence she felt equally
+ill at ease; young women in still prettier white aprons and still
+daintier white caps; young women who moved noiselessly in and out of the
+halls and parlors and who waited at table each day.
+
+Was there not some spot, some creature, some thing, in all that place
+that needed the touch of her hand, the glance of her eye? Surely the day
+had not quite come when she could be of no use, no service to her kind!
+Her work must be waiting; she had only to find it. She would seek it
+out--and that at once. No more of this slothful waiting for the work to
+come to her! "Indeed, no!" she finished aloud, her dim eyes alight, her
+breath coming short and quick, and her whole frail self quivering with
+courage and excitement.
+
+It was scarcely nine o'clock the next morning when a quaint little
+figure in a huge gingham apron (slyly abstracted from the bottom of a
+trunk) slipped out of the rooms given over to the use of John Wetherby's
+mother. The little figure tripped softly, almost stealthily, along the
+hall and down the wide main staircase. There was some hesitation and
+there were a few false moves before the rear stairway leading to the
+kitchen was gained; and there was a gasp, half triumphant, half
+dismayed, when the kitchen was reached.
+
+The cook stared, open-mouthed, as though confronted with an apparition.
+A maid, hurrying across the room with a loaded tray, almost dropped her
+burden to the floor. There was a dazed moment of silence, then Madam
+Wetherby took a faltering step forward and spoke.
+
+"Good-morning! I--I've come to help you."
+
+"Ma'am!" gasped the cook.
+
+"To help--to help!" nodded the little old lady briskly, with a sudden
+overwhelming joy at the near prospect of the realization of her hopes.
+"Pare apples, beat eggs, or--anything!"
+
+"Indeed, ma'am, I--you--" The cook stopped helplessly, and eyed with
+frightened fascination the little old lady as she crossed to the table
+and picked up a pan of potatoes.
+
+"Now a knife, please,--oh, here's one," continued Madam Wetherby
+happily. "Go right about something else. I'll sit over there in that
+chair, and I'll have these peeled very soon."
+
+When John Wetherby visited his mother's rooms that morning he found no
+one there to greet him. A few sharp inquiries disclosed the little
+lady's whereabouts and sent Margaret Wetherby with flaming cheeks and
+tightening lips into the kitchen.
+
+"Mother!" she cried; and at the word the knife dropped from the
+trembling, withered old fingers and clattered to the floor. "Why,
+mother!"
+
+"I--I was helping," quavered a deprecatory voice.
+
+Something in the appealing eyes sent a softer curve to Margaret
+Wetherby's lips.
+
+"Yes, mother; that was very kind of you," said John's wife gently. "But
+such work is quite too hard for you, and there's no need of your doing
+it. Nora will finish these," she added, lifting the pan of potatoes to
+the table, "and you and I will go upstairs to your room. Perhaps we'll
+go driving by and by. Who knows?"
+
+In thinking it over afterwards Nancy Wetherby could find no fault with
+her daughter-in-law. Margaret had been goodness itself, insisting only
+that such work was not for a moment to be thought of. John's wife was
+indeed kind, acknowledged Madam Wetherby to herself, yet two big tears
+welled to her eyes and were still moist on her cheeks after she had
+fallen asleep.
+
+It was perhaps three days later that John Wetherby's mother climbed the
+long flight of stairs near her sitting-room door, and somewhat timidly
+entered one of the airy, sunlit rooms devoted to Master Philip Wetherby.
+The young woman in attendance respectfully acknowledged her greeting,
+and Madam Wetherby advanced with some show of courage to the middle of
+the room.
+
+"The baby, I--I heard him cry," she faltered.
+
+"Yes, madam," smiled the nurse. "It is Master Philip's nap hour."
+
+Louder and louder swelled the wails from the inner room, yet the nurse
+did not stir save to reach for her thread.
+
+"But he's crying--yet!" gasped Madam Wetherby.
+
+The girl's lips twitched and an expression came to her face which the
+little old lady did not in the least understand.
+
+"Can't you--do something?" demanded baby's grandmother, her voice
+shaking.
+
+"No, madam. I--" began the girl, but she did not finish. The little
+figure before her drew itself to the full extent of its diminutive
+height.
+
+"Well, I can," said Madam Wetherby crisply. Then she turned and hurried
+into the inner room.
+
+The nurse sat mute and motionless until a crooning lullaby and the
+unmistakable tapping of rockers on a bare floor brought her to her feet
+in dismay. With an angry frown she strode across the room, but she
+stopped short at the sight that met her eyes.
+
+In a low chair, her face aglow with the accumulated love of years of
+baby-brooding, sat the little old lady, one knotted, wrinkled finger
+tightly elapsed within a dimpled fist. The cries had dropped to sobbing
+breaths, and the lullaby, feeble and quavering though it was, rose and
+swelled triumphant. The anger fled from the girl's face, and a queer
+choking came to her throat so that her words were faint and broken.
+
+"Madam--I beg pardon--I'm sorry, but I must put Master Philip back on
+his bed."
+
+"But he isn't asleep yet," demurred Madam Wetherby softly, her eyes
+mutinous.
+
+"But you must--I can't--that is, Master Philip cannot be rocked,"
+faltered the girl.
+
+"Nonsense, my dear!" she said; "babies can always be rocked!" And again
+the lullaby rose on the air.
+
+"But, madam," persisted the girl--she was almost crying now--"don't you
+see? I must put Master Philip back. It is Mrs. Wetherby's orders. They--
+they don't rock babies so much now."
+
+For an instant fierce rebellion spoke through flashing eyes, stern-set
+lips, and tightly clutched fingers; then all the light died from the
+thin old face and the tense muscles relaxed.
+
+"You may put the baby back," said Madam Wetherby tremulously, yet with a
+sudden dignity that set the maid to curtsying. "I--I should not want to
+cross my daughter's wishes."
+
+Nancy Wetherby never rocked her grandson again, but for days she haunted
+the nursery, happy if she could but tie the baby's moccasins or hold his
+brush or powder-puff; yet a week had scarcely passed when John's wife
+said to her:
+
+"Mother, dear, I wouldn't tire myself so trotting upstairs each day to
+the nursery. There isn't a bit of need--Mary and Betty can manage quite
+well. You fatigue yourself too much!" And to the old lady's denials
+John's wife returned, with a tinge of sharpness: "But, really, mother,
+I'd rather you didn't. It frets the nurses and--forgive me-but you know
+you <i>will</i> forget and talk to him in 'baby-talk'!"
+
+The days came and the days went, and Nancy Wetherby stayed more and more
+closely to her rooms. She begged one day for the mending-basket, but her
+daughter-in-law laughed and kissed her.
+
+"Tut, tut, mother, dear!" she remonstrated. "As if I'd have you wearing
+your eyes and fingers out mending a paltry pair of socks!"
+
+"Then I--I'll knit new ones!" cried the old lady, with sudden
+inspiration.
+
+"Knit new ones--stockings!" laughed Margaret Wetherby. "Why, dearie,
+they never in this world would wear them--and if they would, I couldn't
+let you do it," she added gently, as she noted the swift clouding of the
+eager face. "Such tiresome work!"
+
+Again the old eyes filled with tears; and yet--John's wife was kind, so
+very kind!
+
+It was a cheerless, gray December morning that John Wetherby came into
+his mother's room and found a sob-shaken little figure in the depths of
+the sumptuous, satin-damask chair. "Mother, mother,--why, mother!"
+There were amazement and real distress in John Wetherby's voice.
+
+"There, there, John, I--I didn't mean to--truly I didn't!" quavered the
+little old lady.
+
+John dropped on one knee and caught the fluttering fingers. "Mother,
+what is it?"
+
+"It--it isn't anything; truly it isn't," urged the tremulous voice.
+
+"Is any one unkind to you?" John's eyes grew stern. "The boys, or--
+Margaret?"
+
+The indignant red mounted to the faded cheek. "John! How can you ask?
+Every one is kind, kind, so very kind to me!"
+
+"Well, then, what is it?"
+
+There was only a sob in reply. "Come, come," he coaxed gently.
+
+For a moment Nancy Wetherby's breath was held suspended, then it came in
+a burst with a rush of words.
+
+"Oh, John, John, I'm so useless, so useless, so dreadfully useless!
+Don't you see? Not a thing, not a person needs me. The kitchen has the
+cook and the maids. The baby has two or three nurses. Not even this room
+needs me--there's a girl to dust it each day. Once I slipped out of bed
+and did it first--I did, John; but she came in, and when I told her, she
+just curtsied and smiled and kept right on, and--she didn't even skip
+<i>one chair!</i> John, dear John, sometimes it seems as though even my
+own self doesn't need me. I--I don't even put on my clothes alone;
+there's always some one to help me!"
+
+"There, there, dear," soothed the man huskily. "I need you, indeed I do,
+mother." And he pressed his lips to one, then the other, of the
+wrinkled, soft-skinned hands.
+
+"You don't--you don't!" choked the woman. "There's not one thing I can
+do for you! Why, John, only think, I sit with idle hands all day, and
+there was so much once for them to do. There was Eben, and the children,
+and the house, and the missionary meetings, and--"
+
+On and on went the sweet old voice, but the man scarcely heard. Only one
+phrase rang over and over in his ears, "There's not one thing I can do
+for you!" All the interests of now--stocks, bonds, railroads--fell from
+his mind and left it blank save for the past. He was a boy again at his
+mother's knee. And what had she done for him then? Surely among all the
+myriad things there must be one that he might single out and ask her to
+do for him now! And yet, as he thought, his heart misgave him.
+
+There were pies baked, clothes made, bumped foreheads bathed, lost
+pencils found; there were--a sudden vision came to him of something warm
+and red and very soft--something over which his boyish heart had
+exulted. The next moment his face lighted with joy very like that of the
+years long ago.
+
+"Mother!" he cried. "I know what you can do for me. I want a pair of
+wristers--red ones, just like those you used to knit!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It must have been a month later that John Wetherby, with his two elder
+sons, turned the first corner that carried him out of sight of his
+house. Very slowly, and with gentle fingers, he pulled off two bright
+red wristers. He folded them, patted them, then tucked them away in an
+inner pocket.
+
+"Bless her dear heart!" he said softly. "You should have seen her eyes
+shine when I put them on this morning!"
+
+"I can imagine it," said one of his sons in a curiously tender voice.
+The other one smiled, and said whimsically, "I can hardly wait for
+mine!" Yet even as he spoke his eyes grew dim with a sudden moisture.
+
+Back at the house John's mother was saying to John's wife: "Did you see
+them on him, Margaret?--John's wristers? They did look so bright and
+pretty! And I'm to make more, too; did you know? Frank and Edward want
+some; John said so. He told them about his, and they wanted some right
+away. Only think, Margaret," she finished, lifting with both hands the
+ball of red worsted and pressing it close to her cheek, "I've got two
+whole pairs to make now!"
+
+
+
+
+The Giving Thanks of Cyrus and Huldah
+
+
+
+For two months Cyrus Gregg and his wife Huldah had not spoken to each
+other, yet all the while they had lived under the same roof, driven to
+church side by side, and attended various festivities and church prayer-
+meetings together.
+
+The cause of the quarrel had been an insignificant something that
+speedily lost itself in the torrent of angry words that burst from the
+lips of the irate husband and wife, until by night it would have been
+difficult for either the man or the woman to tell exactly what had been
+the first point of difference. By that time, however, the quarrel had
+assumed such proportions that it loomed in their lives larger than
+anything else; and each had vowed never to speak to the other until that
+other had made the advance.
+
+On both sides they came of a stubborn race, and from the first it was a
+battle royally fought. The night of the quarrel Cyrus betook himself in
+solitary state to the "spare-room" over the parlor. After that he slept
+on a makeshift bed that he had prepared for himself in the shed-chamber,
+hitherto sacred to trunks, dried corn, and cobwebs.
+
+For a month the two sat opposite to each other and partook of Huldah's
+excellent cooking; then one day the woman found at her plate a piece--of
+brown paper on which had been scrawled:
+
+If I ain't worth speakin' to I ain't worth cookin' for. Hereafter I'll
+take care of myself.
+
+A day later came the retort. Cyrus found it tucked under the shed-
+chamber door.
+
+Huldah's note showed her "schooling." It was well written, carefully
+spelled, and enclosed in a square white envelope.
+
+<i>Sir</i> [it ran stiffly]: I shall be obliged if you do not chop any
+more wood for me. Hereafter I shall use the oil stove. HULDAH PENDLETON
+GREGG.
+
+Cyrus choked, and peered at the name with suddenly blurred eyes: the
+"Huldah Pendleton" was fiercely black and distinct; the "Gregg" was so
+faint it could scarcely be discerned.
+
+"Why, it's 'most like a d'vorce!" he shivered.
+
+If it had not been so pitiful, it would have been ludicrous--what
+followed. Day after day, in one corner of the kitchen, an old man boiled
+his potatoes and fried his unappetizing eggs over a dusty, unblacked
+stove; in the other corner an old woman baked and brewed over a shining
+idol of brass and black enamel--and always the baking and brewing
+carried to the nostrils of the hungry man across the room the aroma of
+some dainty that was a particular favorite of his own.
+
+The man whistled, and the woman hummed--at times; but they did not talk,
+except when some neighbor came in; and then they both talked very loud
+and very fast--to the neighbor. On this one point were Cyrus Gregg and
+his wife Huldah agreed; under no circumstances whatever must any
+gossiping outsider know.
+
+One by one the weeks had passed. It was November now, and very cold.
+Outdoors a dull gray sky and a dull brown earth combined into a dismal
+hopelessness. Indoors the dull monotony of a two-months-old quarrel and
+a growing heartache made a combination that carried even less of cheer.
+
+Huldah never hummed now, and Cyrus seldom whistled; yet neither was one
+whit nearer speaking. Each saw this, and, curiously enough, was pleased.
+In fact, it was just here that, in spite of the heartache, each found an
+odd satisfaction.
+
+"By sugar--but she's a spunky one!" Cyrus would chuckle admiringly, as
+he discovered some new evidence of his wife's shrewdness in obtaining
+what she wanted with yet no spoken word.
+
+"There isn't another man in town who could do it--and stick to it!"
+exulted Huldah proudly, her eyes on her husband's form, bent over his
+egg-frying at the other side of the room.
+
+Not only the cause of the quarrel, but almost the quarrel itself, had
+now long since been forgotten; in fact, to both Cyrus and his wife it
+had come to be a sort of game in which each player watched the other's
+progress with fully as much interest as he did his own. And yet, with it
+all there was the heartache; for the question came to them at times with
+sickening force--just when and how could it possibly end?
+
+It was at about this time that each began to worry about the other.
+Huldah shuddered at the changeless fried eggs and boiled potatoes; and
+Cyrus ordered a heavy storm window for the room where Huldah slept
+alone. Huldah slyly left a new apple pie almost under her husband's nose
+one day, and Cyrus slipped a five-dollar bill beneath his wife's napkin
+ring. When both pie and greenback remained untouched, Huldah cried, and
+Cyrus said, "Gosh darn it!" three times in succession behind the woodshed
+door.
+
+A week before Thanksgiving a letter came from the married daughter, and
+another from the married son. They were good letters, kind and loving;
+and each closed with a suggestion that all go home at Thanksgiving for a
+family reunion.
+
+Huldah read the letters eagerly, but at their close she frowned and
+looked anxious. In a moment she had passed them to Cyrus with a toss of
+her head. Five minutes later Cyrus had flung them back with these words
+trailing across one of the envelopes:
+
+    Write um. Tell um we are sick--dead--gone away--anything! Only
+    don't let um come. A   if <i>we</i> wanted to Thanksgive!
+
+Huldah answered the letters that night. She, too, wrote kindly and
+lovingly; but at the end she said that much as she and father would like
+to see them, it did not seem wise to undertake to entertain such a
+family gathering just now. It would be better to postpone it.
+
+Both Huldah and Cyrus hoped that this would end the subject of
+Thanksgiving; but it did not. The very next day Cyrus encountered
+neighbor Wiley in the village store. Wiley's round red face shone like
+the full moon.
+
+"Well, well, Cy, what ye doin' down your way Thanksgivin'--eh?" he
+queried.
+
+Cyrus stiffened; but before he could answer he discovered that Wiley had
+asked the question, not for information, but as a mere introduction to a
+recital of his own plans.
+
+"We're doin' great things," announced the man. "Sam an' Jennie an' the
+hull kit on 'em's comin' home an' bring all the chicks. Tell ye what,
+Cy, we <i>be</i> a-Thanksgivin' this year! Ain't nothin' like a good old
+fam'ly reunion, when ye come right down to it."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Cyrus gloomily. "But we--we ain't doin' much this
+year."
+
+A day later came Huldah's turn. She had taken some calf's-foot jelly to
+Mrs. Taylor in the little house at the foot of the hill. The Widow
+Taylor was crying.
+
+"You see, it's Thanksgiving!" she sobbed, in answer to Huldah's dismayed
+questions.
+
+"Thanksgiving!"
+
+"Yes. And last year I had--<i>him!</i>"
+
+Huldah sighed, and murmured something comforting, appropriate; but
+almost at once she stopped, for the woman had turned searching eyes upon
+her.
+
+"Huldah Gregg, do you appreciate Cyrus?"
+
+Huldah bridled angrily, but there was no time for a reply, for the woman
+answered her own question, and hurried on wildly.
+
+"No. Did I appreciate my husband? No. Does Sally Clark appreciate her
+husband? No. And there don't none of us do it till he's gone--gone--
+gone!"
+
+As soon as possible Huldah went home. She was not a little disconcerted.
+The "gone--gone--gone" rang unpleasantly in her ears, and before her
+eyes rose a hateful vision of unappetizing fried eggs and boiled
+potatoes. As to her not appreciating Cyrus--that was all nonsense; she
+had always appreciated him, and that, too, far beyond his just deserts,
+she told herself angrily.
+
+There was no escaping Thanksgiving after that for either Huldah or
+Cyrus. It looked from every eager eye, and dropped from every joyous
+lip, until, of all the world Huldah and Cyrus came to regard themselves
+as the most forlorn, and the most abused.
+
+It was then that to Huldah came her great idea; she would cook for Cyrus
+the best Thanksgiving dinner he had ever eaten. Just because he was
+obstinate was no reason why he should starve, she told herself; and very
+gayly she set about carrying out her plans. First the oil stove, with
+the help of a jobman, was removed to the unfinished room over the
+kitchen, for the chief charm of the dinner was to be its secret
+preparation. Then, with the treasured butter-and-egg money the turkey,
+cranberries, nuts, and raisins were bought and smuggled into the house
+and upstairs to the chamber of mystery.
+
+Two days before Thanksgiving Cyrus came home to find a silent and almost
+empty kitchen. His heart skipped a beat and his jaw fell open in
+frightened amazement; then a step on the floor above sent the blood back
+to his face and a new bitterness to his heart.
+
+"So I ain't even good enough ter stay with!" he muttered. "Fool!--fool!"
+he snarled, glaring at the oblong brown paper in his arms. "As if she'd
+care for this--now!" he finished, flinging the parcel into the farthest
+corner of the room.
+
+Unhappy Cyrus! To him, also, had come a great idea. Thanksgiving was not
+Christmas, to be sure, but if he chose to give presents on that day,
+surely it was no one's business but his own, he argued. In the brown
+paper parcel at that moment lay the soft, shimmering folds of yards upon
+yards of black silk--and Huldah had been longing for a new black silk
+gown. Yet it was almost dark when Cyrus stumbled over to the corner,
+picked up the parcel, and carried it ruefully away to the shed-chamber.
+
+Thanksgiving dawned clear and unusually warm. The sun shone, and the air
+felt like spring. The sparrows twittered in the treetops as if the
+branches were green with leaves.
+
+To Cyrus, however, it was a world of gloom. Upstairs Huldah was singing--
+singing!--and it was Thanksgiving. He could hear her feet patter,
+patter on the floor above, and the sound had a cheery self-reliance that
+was maddening. Huldah was happy, evidently--and it was Thanksgiving!
+Twice he had walked resolutely to the back stairs with a brown-paper
+parcel in his arms; and twice a quavering song of triumph from the room
+above had sent him back in defeat. As if she could care for a present of
+his!
+
+Suddenly, now, Cyrus sprang forward in his chair, sniffing the air
+hungrily. Turkey! Huldah was roasting turkey, while he--
+
+The old man dropped back in his seat and turned his eyes disconsolately
+on the ill-kept stove--fried eggs and boiled potatoes are not the most
+toothsome prospect for a Thanksgiving dinner, particularly when one has
+the smell of a New England housewife's turkey in one's nostrils.
+
+For a time Cyrus sat motionless; then he rose to his feet, shuffled out
+of the house, and across the road to the barn.
+
+In the room above the kitchen, at that moment, something happened.
+Perhaps the old hands slipped in their eagerness, or perhaps the old
+eyes judged a distance wrongly. Whatever it was, there came a puff of
+smoke, a sputter, and a flare of light; then red-yellow flames leaped to
+the flimsy shade at the window, and swept on to the century-seasoned
+timbers above.
+
+With a choking cry, Huldah turned and stumbled across the room to the
+stairway. Out at the barn door Cyrus, too, saw the flare of light at the
+window, and he, too, turned with a choking cry.
+
+They met at the foot of the stairway.
+
+"Huldah!"
+
+"Cyrus!"
+
+It was as if one voice had spoken, so exactly were the words
+simultaneous. Then Cyrus cried:
+
+"You ain't hurt?"
+
+"No, no! Quick--the things--we must get them out!"
+
+Obediently Cyrus turned and began to work; and the first thing that his
+arms tenderly bore to safety was an oblong brown-paper parcel.
+
+From all directions then came the neighbors running. The farming
+settlement was miles from a town or a fire-engine. The house was small,
+and stood quite by itself; and there was little, after all, that could
+be done, except to save the household goods and gods. This was soon
+accomplished, and there was nothing to do but to watch the old house
+burn.
+
+Cyrus and Huldah sat hand in hand on an old stone wall, quite apart from
+their sympathetic neighbors, and--talked. And about them was a curious
+air of elation, a buoyancy as if long-pent forces had suddenly found a
+joyous escape.
+
+"'T ain't as if our things wan't all out," cried Cyrus; his voice was
+actually exultant.
+
+"Or as if we hadn't wanted to build a new one for years," chirruped his
+wife.
+
+"Now you can have that 'ere closet under the front stairs, Huldah!"
+
+"And you can have the room for your tools where it'll be warm in the
+winter!"
+
+"An' there'll be the bow-winder out of the settin' room, Huldah!"
+
+"Yes, and a real bathroom, with water coming right out of the wall, same
+as the Wileys have!"
+
+"An' a tub, Huldah--one o' them pretty white chiny ones!"
+
+"Oh, Cyrus, ain't it almost too good to be true!" sighed Huldah: then
+her face changed. "Why, Cyrus, it's gone," she cried with sudden
+sharpness.
+
+"What's gone?"
+
+"Your dinner--I was cooking such a beautiful turkey and all the fixings
+for you."
+
+A dull red came into the man's face.
+
+"For--me?" stammered Cyrus.
+
+"Y-yes," faltered Huldah; then her chin came up defiantly.
+
+The man laughed; and there was a boyish ring to his voice.
+
+"Well, Huldah, I didn't have any turkey, but I did have a tidy little
+piece o' black silk for yer gown, an' I saved it, too. Mebbe we could
+eat that!--eh?"
+
+It was not until just as they were falling asleep that night in Deacon
+Clark's spare bedroom that Mr. and Mrs. Gregg so much as hinted that
+there ever had been a quarrel.
+
+Then, under cover of the dark, Cyrus stammered:
+
+"Huldah, did ye sense it? Them 'ere words we said at the foot of the
+stairs was spoke--exactly--<i>together</i>!"
+
+"Yes, I know, dear," murmured Huldah, with a little break in her voice.
+Then:
+
+"Cyrus, ain't it wonderful--this Thanksgiving, for us?"
+
+Downstairs the Clarks were talking of poor old Mr. and Mrs. Gregg and
+their "sad loss;" but the Clarks did not--know.
+
+
+
+
+A New England Idol
+
+
+
+The Hapgood twins were born in the great square house that set back from
+the road just on the outskirts of Fairtown. Their baby eyes had opened
+upon a world of faded portraits and somber haircloth furniture, and
+their baby hands had eagerly clutched at crystal pendants on brass
+candlesticks gleaming out of the sacred darkness that enveloped the
+parlor mantel.
+
+When older grown they had played dolls in the wonderful attic, and made
+mud pies in the wilderness of a back yard. The garden had been a
+fairyland of delight to their toddling feet, and the apple trees a
+fragrant shelter for their first attempts at housekeeping.
+
+From babyhood to girlhood the charm of the old place grew upon them, so
+much so that the thought of leaving it for homes of their own became
+distasteful to them, and they looked with scant favor upon the
+occasional village youths who sauntered up the path presumably on
+courtship bent.
+
+The Reverend John Hapgood--a man who ruled himself and all about him
+with the iron rod of a rigid old-school orthodoxy--died when the twins
+were twenty; and the frail little woman who, as his wife, had for thirty
+years lived and moved solely because he expected breath and motion of
+her, followed soon in his footsteps. And then the twins were left alone
+in the great square house on the hill.
+
+Miss Tabitha and Miss Rachel were not the only children of the family.
+There had been a son--the first born, and four years their senior. The
+headstrong boy and the iron rule had clashed, and the boy, when sixteen
+years old, had fled, leaving no trace behind him.
+
+If the Reverend John Hapgood grieved for his wayward son the members of
+his household knew it not, save as they might place their own
+constructions on the added sternness to his eyes and the deepening lines
+about his mouth. "Paul," when it designated the graceless runaway, was a
+forbidden word in the family, and even the Epistles in the sacred Book,
+bearing the prohibited name, came to be avoided by the head of the house
+in the daily readings. It was still music in the hearts of the women,
+however, though it never passed their lips; and when the little mother
+lay dying she remembered and spoke of her boy. The habit of years still
+fettered her tongue and kept it from uttering the name.
+
+"If--he--comes--you know--if he comes, be kind--be good," she murmured,
+her breath short and labored. "Don't--punish," she whispered--he was
+yet a lad in her disordered vision. "Don't punish--forgive!"
+
+Years had passed since then--years of peaceful mornings and placid
+afternoons, and Paul had never appeared. Each purpling of the lilacs in
+the spring and reddening of the apples in the fall took on new shades of
+loveliness in the fond eyes of the twins, and every blade of grass and
+tiny shrub became sacred to them.
+
+On the 10th of June, their thirty-fifth birthday, the place never had
+looked so lovely. A small table laid with spotless linen and gleaming
+silver stood beneath the largest apple-tree, a mute witness that the
+ladies were about to celebrate their birthday--the 10th of June being
+the only day that the solemn dignity of the dining-room was deserted for
+the frivolous freedom of the lawn.
+
+Rachel came out of the house and sniffed the air joyfully.
+
+"Delicious!" she murmured. "Somehow, the 10th of June is specially fine
+every year."
+
+In careful, uplifted hands she bore a round frosted cake, always the
+chief treasure of the birthday feast. The cake was covered with the tiny
+colored candies so dear to the heart of a child. Miss Rachel always
+bought those candies at the village store, with the apology:--
+
+"I want them for Tabitha's birthday cake, you know. She thinks so much
+of pretty things."
+
+Tabitha invariably made the cake and iced it, and as she dropped the
+bits of colored sugar into place, she would explain to Huldy, who
+occasionally "helped" in the kitchen:--
+
+"I wouldn't miss the candy for the world--my sister thinks so much of
+it!"
+
+So each deceived herself with this pleasant bit of fiction, and yet had
+what she herself most wanted.
+
+Rachel carefully placed the cake in the center of the table, feasted her
+eyes on its toothsome loveliness, then turned and hurried back to the
+house. The door had scarcely shut behind her when a small, ragged urchin
+darted in at the street gate, snatched the cake, and, at a sudden sound
+from the house, dashed out of sight behind a shrub close by.
+
+The sound that had frightened the boy was the tapping of the heels of
+Miss Tabitha's shoes along the back porch. The lady descended the steps,
+crossed the lawn and placed a saucer of pickles and a plate of dainty
+sandwiches on the table.
+
+"Why, I thought Rachel brought the cake," she said aloud. "It must be in
+the house; there's other things to get, anyway. I'll go back."
+
+Again the click of the door brought the small boy close to the table.
+Filling both hands with sandwiches, he slipped behind the shrub just as
+the ladies came out of the house together. Rachel carried a small tray
+laden with sauce and tarts; Tabitha, one with water and steaming tea. As
+they neared the table each almost dropped her burden.
+
+"Why, where's my cake?"
+
+"And my sandwiches?"
+
+"There's the plate it was on!" Rachel's voice was growing in terror.
+
+"And mine, too!" cried Tabitha, with distended eyes fastened on some
+bits of bread and meat--all that the small brown hands had left.
+
+"It's burglars--robbers!" Rachel looked furtively over her shoulder.
+
+"And all your lovely cake!" almost sobbed Tabitha.
+
+"It--it was yours, too," said the other with a catch in her voice. "Oh,
+dear! What can have happened to it? I never heard of such a thing--right
+in broad daylight!" The sisters had long ago set their trays upon the
+ground and were now wringing their hands helplessly. Suddenly a small
+figure appeared before them holding out four sadly crushed sandwiches
+and half of a crumbling cake.
+
+"I'm sorry--awful sorry! I didn't think--I was so hungry. I'm afraid
+there ain't very much left," he added, with rueful eyes on the
+sandwiches.
+
+"No, I should say not!" vouchsafed Rachel, her voice firm now that the
+size of the "burglar" was declared. Tabitha only gasped.
+
+The small boy placed the food upon the empty plates, and Rachel's lips
+twitched as she saw that he clumsily tried to arrange it in an orderly
+fashion.
+
+"There, ma'am,--that looks pretty good!" he finally announced with some
+pride.
+
+Tabitha made an involuntary gesture of aversion. Rachel laughed
+outright; then her face grew suddenly stern.
+
+"Boy, what do you mean by such actions?" she demanded.
+
+His eyes fell, and his cheeks showed red through the tan.
+
+"I was hungry."
+
+"But didn't you know it was stealing?" she asked, her face softening.
+
+"I didn't stop to think--it looked so good I couldn't help takin' it."
+He dug his bare toes in the grass for a moment in silence, then he
+raised his head with a jerk and stood squarely on both feet. "I hain't
+got any money, but I'll work to pay for it--bringin' wood in, or
+somethin'."
+
+"The dear child!" murmured two voices softly.
+
+"I've got to find my folks, sometime, but I'll do the work first. Mebbe
+an hour'll pay for it--'most!"--He looked hopefully into Miss Rachel's
+face.
+
+"Who are your folks?" she asked huskily.
+
+By way of answer he handed out a soiled, crumpled envelope for her
+inspection on which was written, "Reverend John Hapgood."
+
+"Why--it's father!"
+
+"What!" exclaimed Tabitha.
+
+Her sister tore the note open with shaking fingers.
+
+"It's from--Paul!" she breathed, hesitating a conscientious moment over
+the name. Then she turned her startled eyes on the boy, who was
+regarding her with lively interest.
+
+"Do I belong to you?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"I--I don't know. Who are you--what's your name?"
+
+"Ralph Hapgood."
+
+Tabitha had caught up the note and was devouring it with swift-moving
+eyes.
+
+"It's Paul's boy, Rachel," she broke in, "only think of it--Paul's boy!"
+and she dropped the bit of paper and enveloped the lad in a fond but
+tearful embrace.
+
+He squirmed uneasily.
+
+"I'm sorry I eat up my own folks's things. I'll go to work any time,"
+he suggested, trying to draw away, and wiping a tear splash from the
+back of his hand on his trousers.
+
+But it was long hours before Ralph Hapgood was allowed to "go to work."
+Tears, kisses, embraces, questions, a bath, and clean clothes followed
+each other in quick succession--the clothes being some of his own
+father's boyhood garments.
+
+His story was quickly told. His mother was long since dead, and his
+father had written on his dying bed the letter that commended the boy--
+so soon to be orphaned--to the pity and care of his grandparents. The
+sisters trembled and changed color at the story of the boy's hardships
+on the way to Fairtown; and they plied him with questions and sandwiches
+in about equal proportions after he told of the frequent dinnerless days
+and supperless nights of the journey.
+
+That evening when the boy was safe in bed--clean, full-stomached, and
+sleepily content the sisters talked it over. The Reverend John Hapgood,
+in his will, had cut off his recreant son with the proverbial shilling,
+so, by law, there was little coming to Ralph. This, however, the sisters
+overlooked in calm disdain.
+
+"We must keep him, anyhow," said Rachel with decision.
+
+"Yes, indeed,--the dear child!"
+
+"He's twelve, for all he's so small, but he hasn't had much schooling.
+We must see to that--we want him well educated," continued Rachel, a
+pink spot showing in either cheek.
+
+"Indeed we do--we'll send him to college! I wonder, now, wouldn't he
+like to be a doctor?"
+
+"Perhaps," admitted the other cautiously, "or a minister."
+
+"Sure enough--he might like that better; I'm going to ask him!" and she
+sprang to her feet and tripped across the room to the parlor-bedroom
+door. "Ralph," she called softly, after turning the knob, "are you
+asleep?"
+
+"Huh? N-no, ma'am." The voice nearly gave the lie to the words.
+
+"Well, dear, we were wondering--would you rather be a minister or a
+doctor?" she asked, much as though she were offering for choice a peach
+and a pear.
+
+"A doctor!" came emphatically from out of the dark--there was no sleep
+in the voice now. "I've always wanted to be a doctor."
+
+"You shall, oh, you shall!" promised the woman ecstatically, going back
+to her sister; and from that time all their lives were ordered with that
+one end in view.
+
+The Hapgood twins were far from wealthy. They owned the homestead, but
+their income was small, and the added mouth to fill--and that a hungry
+one--counted. As the years passed, Huldy came less and less frequently
+to help in the kitchen, and the sisters' gowns grew more and more rusty
+and darned.
+
+Ralph, boylike, noticed nothing--indeed, half the year he was away at
+school; but as the time drew near for the college course and its
+attendant expenses, the sisters were sadly troubled.
+
+"We might sell," suggested Tabitha, a little choke in her voice.
+
+Rachel started.
+
+"Why, sister!--sell? Oh, no, we couldn't do that!" she shuddered.
+
+"But what can we do?"
+
+"Do?--why lots of things!" Rachel's lips came together with a snap.
+"It's coming berry time, and there's our chickens, and the garden did
+beautifully last year. Then there's your lace work and my knitting--
+they bring something. Sell? Oh--we couldn't do that!" And she abruptly
+left the room and went out into the yard. There she lovingly trained a
+wayward vine with new shoots going wrong, and gloated over the
+rosebushes heavy with crimson buds.
+
+But as the days and weeks flew by and September drew the nearer,
+Rachel's courage failed her. Berries had been scarce, the chickens had
+died, the garden had suffered from drought, and but for their lace and
+knitting work, their income would have dwindled to a pitiful sum
+indeed. Ralph had been gone all summer; he had asked to go camping and
+fishing with some of his school friends. He was expected home a week
+before the college opened, however.
+
+Tabitha grew more and more restless every day. Finally she spoke.
+
+"Rachel, we'll have to sell--there isn't any other way. It would bring a
+lot," she continued hurriedly, before her sister could speak, "and we
+could find some pretty rooms somewhere. It wouldn't be so very
+dreadful!"
+
+"Don't, Tabitha! Seems as though I couldn't bear even to speak of it.
+Sell?--oh, Tabitha!" Then her voice changed from a piteous appeal to one
+of forced conviction.
+
+"We couldn't get anywhere near what it's worth, Tabitha, anyway. No one
+here wants it or can afford to buy it for what it ought to bring. It is
+really absurd to think of it. Of course, if I had an offer--a good big
+one--that would be quite another thing; but there's no hope of that."
+
+Rachel's lips said "hope," but her heart said "danger," and the latter
+was what she really meant. She did not know that but two hours before, a
+stranger had said to a Fairtown lawyer:
+
+"I want a summer home in this locality. You don't happen to know of a
+good old treasure of a homestead for sale, do you?"
+
+"I do not," replied the lawyer. "There's a place on the edge of the
+village that would be just the ticket, but I don't suppose it could be
+bought for love nor money."
+
+"Where is it?" asked the man eagerly. "You never know what money can do--
+to say nothing of love--till you try."
+
+The lawyer chuckled softly.
+
+"It's the Hapgood place. I'll drive you over to-morrow. It's owned by
+two old maids, and they worship every stick and stone and blade of grass
+that belongs to it. However, I happen to know that cash is rather scarce
+with them--and there's ample chance for love, if the money fails," he
+added, with a twitching of his lips.
+
+When the two men drove into the yard that August morning, the Hapgood
+twins were picking nasturtiums, and the flaming yellows and scarlets
+lighted up their somber gowns, and made patches of brilliant color
+against the gray of the house.
+
+"By Jove, it's a picture!" exclaimed the would-be purchaser.
+
+The lawyer smiled and sprang to the ground. Introductions swiftly
+followed, then he cleared his throat in some embarrassment.
+
+"Ahem! I've brought Mr. Hazelton up here, ladies, because he was
+interested in your beautiful place."
+
+Miss Rachel smiled--the smile of proud possession; then something within
+her seemed to tighten, and she caught her breath sharply.
+
+"It is fine!" murmured Hazelton; "and the view is grand!" he continued,
+his eyes on the distant hills. Then he turned abruptly. "Ladies, I
+believe in coming straight to the point. I want a summer home, and--I
+want this one. Can I tempt you to part with it?"
+
+"Indeed, no!" began Rachel almost fiercely. Then her voice sank to a
+whisper; "I--I don't think you could."
+
+"But, sister," interposed Tabitha, her face alight, "you know you said--
+that is, there are circumstances--perhaps he would--p-pay enough--" Her
+voice stumbled over the hated word, then stopped, while her face burned
+scarlet.
+
+"Pay!--no human mortal could pay for this house!" flashed Rachel
+indignantly. Then she turned to Hazelton, her slight form drawn to its
+greatest height, and her hands crushing the flowers, she held till the
+brittle stems snapped, releasing a fluttering shower of scarlet and
+gold. "Mr. Hazelton, to carry out certain wishes very near to our
+hearts, we need money. We will show you the place, and--and we will
+consider your offer," she finished faintly. It was a dreary journey the
+sisters took that morning, though the garden never had seemed lovelier,
+nor the rooms more sacredly beautiful. In the end, Hazelton's offer was
+so fabulously enormous to their unwilling ears that their conscience
+forbade them to refuse it.
+
+"I'll have the necessary papers ready to sign in a few days," said the
+lawyer as the two gentlemen turned to go. And Hazelton added: "If at any
+time before that you change your minds and find you cannot give it up--
+just let me know and it will be all right. Just think it over till
+then," he said kindly, the dumb woe in their eyes appealing to him as
+the loudest lamentations could not have done. "But if you don't mind,
+I'd like to have an architect, who is in town just now, come up and look
+it over with me," he finished.
+
+"Certainly, sir, certainly," said Rachel, longing for the man to go. But
+when he was gone, she wished him back--anything would be better than
+this aimless wandering from room to room, and from yard to garden and
+back again.
+
+"I suppose <i>he</i> will sit here," murmured Tabitha, dropping wearily
+on to the settee under the apple-trees.
+
+"I suppose so," her sister assented. "I wonder if <i>she</i> knows how
+to grow roses; they'll certainly die if she doesn't!" And Rachel crushed
+a worm under her foot with unnecessary vigor.
+
+"Oh, I hope they'll tend to the vines on the summerhouse, Rachel, and
+the pansies--you don't think they'll let them run to seed, do you? Oh,
+dear!" And Tabitha sprang nervously to her feet and started backyto the
+house.
+
+Mr. Hazelton appeared the next morning with two men--an architect and a
+landscape gardener. Rachel was in the summerhouse, and the first she
+knew of their presence was the sound of talking outside.
+
+"You'll want to grade it down there," she heard a strange voice say,
+"and fill in that little hollow; clear away all those rubbishy posies,
+and mass your flowering shrubs in the background. Those roses are no
+particular good, I fancy; we'll move such as are worth anything, and
+make a rose-bed on the south side--we'll talk over the varieties you
+want, later. Of course these apple-trees and those lilacs will be cut
+down, and this summerhouse will be out of the way. You'll be surprised--
+a few changes will do wonders, and--"
+
+He stopped abruptly. A woman, tall, flushed, and angry-eyed, stood
+before him in the path. She opened her lips, but no sound came--Mr.
+Hazelton was lifting his hat. The flush faded, and her eyes closed as
+though to shut out some painful sight; then she bowed her head with a
+proud gesture, and sped along the way to the house.
+
+Once inside, she threw herself, sobbing, upon the bed. Tabitha found her
+there an hour later.
+
+"You poor dear--they've gone now," she comforted.
+
+Rachel raised her head.
+
+"They're going to cut down everything--every single thing!" she gasped.
+
+"I know it," choked Tabitha, "and they're going to tear out lots of
+doors inside, and build in windows and things. Oh, Rachel,--what shall
+we do?"
+
+"I don't know, oh, I don't know!" moaned the woman on the bed, diving
+into the pillows and hugging them close to her head.
+
+"We--we might give up selling--he said we could if we wanted to."
+
+"But there's Ralph!"
+
+"I know it. Oh, dear--what can we do?"
+
+Rachel suddenly sat upright.
+
+"Do? Why, we'll stand it, of course. We just mustn't mind if he turns
+the house into a hotel and the yard into a--a pasture!" she said
+hysterically. "We must just think of Ralph and of his being a doctor.
+Come, let's go to the village and see if we can rent that tenement of
+old Mrs. Goddard's."
+
+With a long sigh and a smothered sob, Tabitha went to get her hat.
+
+Mrs. Goddard greeted the sisters effusively, and displayed her bits of
+rooms and the tiny square of yard with the plainly expressed wish that
+the place might be their home.
+
+The twins said little, but their eyes were troubled. They left with the
+promise to think it over and let Mrs. Goddard know.
+
+"I didn't suppose rooms could be so little," whispered Tabitha, as they
+closed the gate behind them.
+
+"We couldn't grow as much as a sunflower in that yard," faltered Rachel.
+
+"Well, anyhow, we could have some houseplants!"--Tabitha tried to speak
+cheerfully.
+
+"Indeed we could!" agreed Rachel, rising promptly to her sister's
+height; "and, after all, little rooms are lots cheaper to heat than big
+ones." And there the matter ended for the time being.
+
+Mr. Hazelton and the lawyer with the necessary papers appeared a few
+days later. As the lawyer took off his hat he handed a letter to Miss
+Rachel.
+
+"I stepped into the office and got your mail," he said genially.
+
+"Thank you," replied the lady, trying to smile. "It's from Ralph,"--
+handing it over for her sister to read.
+
+Both the ladies were in somber black; a ribbon or a brooch seemed out of
+place to them that day. Tabitha broke the seal of the letter, and
+retired to the light of the window to read it.
+
+The papers were spread on the table, and the pen was in Rachel's hand
+when a scream from Tabitha shattered the oppressive silence of the room.
+
+"Stop--stop--oh, stop!" she cried, rushing to her sister and snatching
+the pen from her fingers. "We don't have to--see--read!"--pointing to
+the postscript written in a round, boyish hand.
+
+Oh, I say, I've got a surprise for you. You think I've been fishing and
+loafing all summer, but I've been working for the hotels here the whole
+time. I've got a fine start on my money for college, and I've got a
+chance to work for my board all this year by helping Professor Heaton. I
+met him here this summer, and he's the right sort--every time. I've
+intended all along to help myself a bit when it came to the college
+racket, but I didn't mean to tell you until I knew I could do it. But
+it's a sure thing now.
+
+Bye-bye; I'll be home next Saturday.
+
+Your aff. nephew,
+
+Ralph.
+
+Rachel had read this aloud, but her voice ended in a sob instead of in
+the boy's name. Hazelton brushed the back of his hand across his eyes,
+and the lawyer looked intently out the window. For a moment there was a
+silence that could be felt, then Hazelton stepped to the table and
+fumbled noisily with the papers.
+
+"Ladies, I withdraw my offer," he announced. "I can't afford to buy this
+house--I can't possibly afford it--it's too expensive." And without
+another word he left the room, motioning the lawyer to follow.
+
+The sisters looked into each other's eyes and drew a long, sobbing
+breath.
+
+"Rachel, is it true?"
+
+"Oh, Tabitha! Let's--let's go out under the apple-trees and--just know
+that they are there!"
+
+And hand in hand they went.
+
+
+The End
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Years, by Eleanor H. Porter
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE YEARS ***
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+     "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd">
+<html>
+<head>
+    <title>Across the Years, by Eleanor H. Porter</title>
+  <style type="text/css">
+  <!--
+    h1,h2,h3,h4 { text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps }
+    h1 { margin-top: 2em }
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+    li.toc { font-variant: small-caps }
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+<pre>
+
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+#9 in our series by Eleanor H. Porter
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
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+Title: Across the Years
+
+Author: Eleanor H. Porter
+
+Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6991]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on February 20, 2003]
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE YEARS ***
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+
+
+<h1>Across the Years</h1>
+
+<p style='text-align: center'>by</p>
+
+<h2>Eleanor H. Porter</h2>
+
+<h1>Contents</h1>
+
+<ul>
+  <li><a href="#chap_01">When Father and Mother Rebelled</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_02">Jupiter Ann</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_03">The Axminster Path</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_04">Phineas and the Motor Car</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_05">The Most Wonderful Woman</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_06">The Price of a Pair of Shoes</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_07">The Long Road</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_08">A Couple of Capitalists</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_09">In the Footsteps of Katy</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_10">The Bridge Across the Years</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_11">For Jimmy</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_12">A Summons Home</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_13">The Black Silk Gowns</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_14">A Belated Honeymoon</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_15">When Aunt Abby Waked Up</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_16">Wristers for Three</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_17">The Giving THanks of Cyrus and Huldah</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_18">A New England Idol</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p>The stories in this volume are here reprinted by the
+courteous
+permission of the publishers of the periodicals in
+which they first
+appeared,--The Ladies&#8217; Home Journal, Ainslee&#8217;s
+Magazine, The Scrap
+Book, The New England Magazine, The Pictorial Review,
+The Housewife,
+The Pacific Monthly, The Arena, Lippincott&#8217;s
+Magazine, Harper&#8217;s Bazar,
+The Century Magazine, Woman, Holland&#8217;s Magazine,
+The Designer.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_01"></a>When Father and Mother Rebelled</h1>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Tain&#8217;t more &#8217;n a month ter
+Christmas, Lyddy Ann; did ye know it?&#8221; said
+the old man, settling back in his chair with a curiously
+resigned sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know, Samuel,&#8221; returned his wife,
+sending a swift glance over the top of her glasses.</p>
+
+<p>If Samuel Bertram noticed the glance he made no sign.
+&#8220;Hm!&#8221; he murmured. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got
+ten neckerchiefs now. How many crocheted bed-slippers
+you got?--eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Samuel!&#8221; remonstrated Lydia Ann feebly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t care,&#8221; asserted Samuel
+with sudden vehemence, sitting erect in his chair.
+&#8220;Seems as if we might get somethin&#8217; for
+Christmas &#8217;sides slippers an&#8217; neckerchiefs.
+Jest &#8217;cause we ain&#8217;t so young as we once
+was ain&#8217;t no sign that we&#8217;ve lost all
+our faculty for enj&#8217;yment!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Samuel, they&#8217;re good an&#8217; kind,
+an&#8217; want ter give us somethin&#8217;,&#8221;
+faltered Lydia Ann; &#8220;and--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know they&#8217;re good an&#8217; kind,&#8221;
+cut in Samuel wrathfully. &#8220;We&#8217;ve got three
+children, an&#8217; each one brings us a Christmas
+present ev&#8217;ry year. They&#8217;ve got so they
+do it reg&#8217;lar now, jest the same as they--they
+go ter bed ev&#8217;ry night,&#8221; he finished, groping
+a little for his simile. &#8220;An&#8217; they put
+jest about as much thought into it, too,&#8221; he
+added grimly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My grief an&#8217; conscience, Samuel,--how
+can you talk so!&#8221; gasped the little woman opposite.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, they do,&#8221; persisted Samuel. &#8220;They
+buy a pair o&#8217; slippers an&#8217; a neckerchief,
+an&#8217; tuck &#8217;em into their bag for us--an&#8217;
+that&#8217;s done; an&#8217; next year they do the
+same--an&#8217; it&#8217;s done again. Oh, I know I&#8217;m
+ongrateful, an&#8217; all that,&#8221; acknowledged
+Samuel testily, &#8220;but I can&#8217;t help it.
+I&#8217;ve been jest ready to bile over ever since
+last Christmas, an&#8217; now I have biled over. Look
+a-here, Lyddy Ann, we ain&#8217;t so awful old. You&#8217;re
+seventy-three an&#8217; I&#8217;m seventy-six, an&#8217;
+we&#8217;re pert as sparrers, both of us. Don&#8217;t
+we live here by ourselves, an&#8217; do most all the
+work inside an&#8217; outside the house?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; nodded Lydia Ann timidly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, ain&#8217;t there somethin&#8217; you
+can think of sides slippers you&#8217;d like for Christmas--&#8217;specially
+as you never wear crocheted bed-slippers?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lydia Ann stirred uneasily. &#8220;Why, of course,
+Samuel,&#8221; she began hesitatingly, &#8220;bed-slippers
+are very nice, an&#8217;--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So&#8217;s codfish!&#8221; interrupted Samuel
+in open scorn. &#8220;Come,&#8221; he coaxed, &#8220;jest
+supposin&#8217; we was youngsters again, a-tellin&#8217;
+Santa Claus what we wanted. What would you ask for?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lydia Ann laughed. Her cheeks grew pink, and the lost
+spirit of her youth sent a sudden sparkle to her eyes.
+&#8220;You&#8217;d laugh, dearie. I ain&#8217;t a-goin&#8217;
+ter tell.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t--&#8217;pon honor!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it&#8217;s so silly,&#8221; faltered Lydia
+Ann, her cheeks a deeper pink. &#8220;Me-- an old
+woman!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; agreed Samuel promptly. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+bound ter be silly, ye know, if we want anythin&#8217;
+but slippers an&#8217; neckerchiefs,&#8221; he added
+with a chuckle. &#8220;Come--out with it, Lyddy Ann.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s--it&#8217;s a tree.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dampers and doughnuts!&#8221; ejaculated Samuel,
+his jaw dropping. &#8220;A tree!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, I knew you&#8217;d laugh,&#8221; quavered
+Lydia Ann, catching up her knitting.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Laugh? Not a bit of it!&#8221; averred Samuel
+stoutly. &#8220;I--I want a tree myself!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye see, it&#8217;s just this,&#8221; apologized
+Lydia Ann feverishly. &#8220;They give us things,
+of course, but they never make anythin&#8217; of doin&#8217;
+it, not even ter tyin&#8217; &#8217;em up with a piece
+of red ribbon. They just slip into our bedroom an&#8217;
+leave &#8217;em all done up in brown paper an&#8217;
+we find &#8217;em after they&#8217;re gone. They mean
+it all kind, but I&#8217;m so tired of gray worsted
+and sensible things. Of course I can&#8217;t have a
+tree, an&#8217; I don&#8217;t suppose I really want
+it; but I&#8217;d like somethin&#8217; all pretty an&#8217;
+sparkly an&#8217;--an&#8217; silly, you know. An&#8217;
+there&#8217;s another thing I want--ice cream. An&#8217;
+I want to make myself sick eatin&#8217; it, too,--if
+I want to; an&#8217; I want little pink-an&#8217;-white
+sugar pep&#8217;mints hung in bags. Samuel, can&#8217;t
+you see how pretty a bag o&#8217; pink pep&#8217;mints
+&#8217;d be on that green tree? An&#8217;--dearie
+me!&#8221; broke off the little old woman breathlessly,
+falling back in her chair. &#8220;How I&#8217;m runnin&#8217;
+on! I reckon I <i>am</i> in my dotage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Samuel did not reply. His brow was puckered
+into a prodigious frown, and his right hand had sought
+the back of his head--as was always the case when
+in deep thought. Suddenly his face cleared.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye ain&#8217;t in yer dotage--by gum, ye ain&#8217;t!&#8221;
+he cried excitedly. &#8220;An&#8217; I ain&#8217;t,
+neither. An&#8217; what&#8217;s more, you&#8217;re
+a-goin&#8217; ter have that tree--ice cream, pink
+pep&#8217;mints, an&#8217; all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, my grief an&#8217; conscience--Samuel!&#8221;
+quavered Lydia Ann.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, ye be. We can do it easy, too. We&#8217;ll
+have it the night &#8217;fore Christmas. The children
+don&#8217;t get here until Christmas day, ever, ye
+know, so &#8216;t won&#8217;t interfere a mite with
+their visit, an&#8217; &#8217;twill be all over &#8216;fore
+they get here. An&#8217; we&#8217;ll make a party of
+it, too,&#8221; went on Samuel gleefully. &#8220;There&#8217;s
+the Hopkinses an&#8217; old Mis&#8217; Newcomb, an&#8217;
+Uncle Tim, an&#8217; Grandpa Gowin&#8217;--they&#8217;ll
+all come an&#8217; be glad to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Samuel, could we?&#8221; cried Lydia Ann, incredulous
+but joyous. &#8220;Could we, really?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll get the tree myself,&#8221; murmured
+Samuel, aloud, &#8220;an&#8217; we can buy some o&#8217;
+that shiny stuff up ter the store ter trim it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; I&#8217;ll get some of that pink-an&#8217;-white
+tarl&#8217;tan for bags,&#8221; chimed in Lydia Ann
+happily: &#8220;the pink for the white pep&#8217;mints,
+an&#8217; the white for the pink. Samuel, won&#8217;t
+it be fun?&#8221; And to hear her one would have thought
+her seventeen instead of seventy-three.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+<p>A week before Christmas Samuel Bertram&#8217;s only
+daughter, Ella, wrote this letter to each of her brothers:</p>
+
+<p>It has occurred to me that it might be an excellent
+idea if we would plan to spend a little more time
+this year with Father and Mother when we go for our
+usual Christmas visit; and what kind of a scheme do
+you think it would be for us to take the children,
+and make a real family reunion of it?</p>
+
+<p>I figure that we could all get there by four o&#8217;clock
+the day before Christmas, if we planned for it; and
+by staying perhaps two days after Christmas we could
+make quite a visit. What do you say? You see Father
+and Mother are getting old, and we can&#8217;t have
+them with us many more years, anyway; and I&#8217;m
+sure this would please them--only we must be very
+careful not to make it too exciting for them.</p>
+
+<p>The letters were dispatched with haste, and almost
+by return mail came the answers; an emphatic approval,
+and a promise of hearty cooperation signed &#8220;Frank&#8221;
+and &#8220;Ned.&#8221; What is every one&#8217;s business
+is apt to be no one&#8217;s business, however, and
+no one notified Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Bertram of the
+change of plan, each thinking that one of the others
+would attend to it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As for presents,&#8221; mused Ella, as she
+hurried downtown two days before Christmas, &#8220;I
+never can think what to give them; but, after all,
+there&#8217;s nothing better than bed-slippers for
+Mother, and a warm neckerchief for Father&#8217;s
+throat. Those are always good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The day before Christmas dawned clear and cold. It
+had been expected that Ella, her husband, and her
+twin boys would arrive at the little village station
+a full hour before the train from the north bringing
+Ned, Mrs. Ned, and little Mabel, together with Frank
+and his wife and son; but Ella&#8217;s train was late--so
+late that it came in a scant five minutes ahead of
+the other one, and thus brought about a joyous greeting
+between the reunited families on the station platform
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, it&#8217;s not so bad we were late, after
+all,&#8221; cried Ella. &#8220;This is fine--now we
+can all go together!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jove! but we&#8217;re a cheery sight!&#8221;
+exclaimed Ned, as he counted off on his fingers the
+blooming faces of those about him. &#8220;There are
+ten of us!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only fancy what they&#8217;ll say at the house
+when they catch their first glimpse of us!&#8221;
+chuckled Frank. &#8220;The dear old souls! How Father&#8217;s
+eyes will shine and Mother&#8217;s cap-strings bob!
+By the way, of course they know we&#8217;re coming
+to-day?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment&#8217;s silence; then Ella flushed.
+&#8220;Why! didn&#8217;t--didn&#8217;t you tell them?&#8221;
+she stammered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I? Why, of course not!&#8221; cried Frank.
+&#8220;I supposed you were going to. But maybe Ned-&#8221;
+He paused and turned questioning eyes on his brother.</p>
+
+<p>Ned shook his head. &#8220;Not I,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, then--then they don&#8217;t know,&#8221;
+cried Ella, aghast. &#8220;They don&#8217;t know a
+thing!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind, come on,&#8221; laughed Ned. &#8220;What
+difference does it make?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;What difference does it make&#8217;!&#8221;
+retorted Ella indignantly. &#8220;Ned Bertram, do
+you suppose I&#8217;d take the risk of ten of us pouncing
+down on those two poor dears like this by surprise?
+Certainly not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Ella, they&#8217;re expecting six of us
+tomorrow,&#8221; remonstrated Frank.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very true. But that&#8217;s not ten of us today.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know; but so far as the work is concerned,
+you girls always do the most of that,&#8221; cut in
+Ned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Work! It isn&#8217;t the work,&#8221; almost
+groaned Ella. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you see, boys? It&#8217;s
+the excitement--&#8217;twouldn&#8217;t do for them
+at all. We must fix it some way. Come, let&#8217;s
+go into the waiting-room and talk it up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was not until after considerable discussion that
+their plans were finally made and their line of march
+decided upon. To advance in the open and take the
+house by storm was clearly out of the question, though
+Ned remarked that in all probability the dear old creatures
+would be dozing before the fire, and would not discover
+their approach. Still, it would be wiser to be on
+the safe side; and it was unanimously voted that Frank
+should go ahead alone and reconnoiter, preparing the
+way for the rest, who could wait, meanwhile, at the
+little hotel not far from the house.</p>
+
+<p>The short winter day had drawn almost to a close when
+Frank turned in at the familiar gate of the Bertram
+homestead. His hand had not reached the white knob
+of the bell, however, when the eager expectancy of
+his face gave way to incredulous amazement; from within,
+clear and distinct, had come the sound of a violin.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, what--&#8221; he cried under his breath,
+and softly pushed open the door.</p>
+
+<p>The hall was almost dark, but the room beyond was
+a blaze of light, with the curtains drawn, and apparently
+every lamp the house contained trimmed and burning.
+He himself stood in the shadow, and his entrance had
+been unnoticed, though almost the entire expanse of
+the room before him was visible through the half-open
+doorway.</p>
+
+<p>In the farther corner of the room a large evergreen
+tree, sparkling with candles and tinsel stars, was
+hung with bags of pink and white tarletan and festoons
+of puffy popcorn. Near it sat an old man playing the
+violin; and his whole wiry self seemed to quiver with
+joy to the tune of his merry &#8220;Money Musk.&#8221;
+In the center of the room two gray-haired men were
+dancing an old-time jig, bobbing, bowing, and twisting
+about in a gleeful attempt to outdo each other. Watching
+them were three old women and another old man, eating
+ice cream and contentedly munching peppermints. And
+here, there, and everywhere was the mistress of the
+house, Lydia Ann herself, cheeks flushed and cap-strings
+flying, but plainly in her element and joyously content.</p>
+
+<p>For a time the man by the hall door watched in silent
+amazement; then with a low ejaculation he softly let
+himself out of the house, and hurried back to the
+hotel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; greeted half a dozen voices; and
+one added: &#8220;What did they say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Frank shook his head and dropped into the nearest
+chair. &#8220;I--I didn&#8217;t tell them,&#8221;
+he stammered faintly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t tell them!&#8221; exclaimed Ella.
+&#8220;Why, Frank, what was the trouble? Were they
+sick? Surely, they were not upset by just seeing you!&#8221;
+Frank&#8217;s eyes twinkled &#8220;Well, hardly!&#8221;
+he retorted. &#8220;They--they&#8217;re having a party.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A party!&#8221; shrieked half a dozen voices.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; and a tree, and a dance, and ice cream,
+and pink peppermints,&#8221; Frank enumerated in one
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>There was a chorus of expostulation; then Ella&#8217;s
+voice rose dominant. &#8220;Frank Bertram, what on
+earth do you mean?&#8221; she demanded. &#8220;Who
+is having all this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Father and Mother,&#8221; returned Frank, his
+lips twitching a little. &#8220;And they&#8217;ve
+got old Uncle Tim and half a dozen others for guests.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Frank, how can they be having all this?&#8221;
+faltered Ella. &#8220;Why, Father&#8217;s not so very
+far from eighty years old, and--Mabel, Mabel, my dear!&#8221;
+she broke off in sudden reproof to her young niece,
+who had come under her glance at that moment. &#8220;Those
+are presents for Grandpa and Grandma. I wouldn&#8217;t
+play with them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mabel hesitated, plainly rebellious. In each hand
+was a gray worsted bed-slipper; atop of her yellow
+curls was a brown neckerchief, cap fashion.</p>
+
+<p>There were exclamations from two men, and Ned came
+forward hurriedly. &#8220;Oh, I say, Ella,&#8221;
+he remonstrated, &#8220;you didn&#8217;t get those
+for presents, did you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I did. Why not?&#8221; questioned Ella.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I got slippers, you see. I never can think
+of anything else. Besides, they&#8217;re always good,
+anyhow. But I should think <i>you</i>, a <i>woman</i>,
+could think of something--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind,&#8221; interrupted Ella airily.
+&#8220;Mother&#8217;s a dear, and she won&#8217;t
+care if she does get two pairs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But she won&#8217;t want three pairs,&#8221;
+groaned Frank; &#8220;and I got slippers too!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment of dismayed silence, then everybody
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>Ella was the first to speak. &#8220;It&#8217;s too
+bad, of course, but never mind. Mother&#8217;ll see
+the joke of it just as we do. You know she never seems
+to care what we give her. Old people don&#8217;t have
+many wants, I fancy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Frank stirred suddenly and walked the length of the
+room. Then he wheeled about.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you know,&#8221; he said, a little unsteadily,
+&#8220;I believe that&#8217;s a mistake?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A mistake? What&#8217;s a mistake?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The notion that old people don&#8217;t have
+any--wants. See here. They&#8217;re having a party
+down there--a party, and they must have got it up
+themselves. Such being the case, of course they had
+what they wanted for entertainment--and they aren&#8217;t
+drinking tea or knitting socks. They&#8217;re dancing
+jigs and eating pink peppermints and ice cream! Their
+eyes are like stars, and Mother&#8217;s cheeks are
+like a girl&#8217;s; and if you think I&#8217;m going
+to offer those spry young things a brown neckerchief
+and a pair of bed-slippers you&#8217;re much mistaken--because
+I&#8217;m not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what--can--we do?&#8221; stammered Ella.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We can buy something else here--to-night--in
+the village,&#8221; declared Frank; &#8220;and to-morrow
+morning we can go and give it to them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But--buy what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t the least idea,&#8221; retorted
+Frank, with an airy wave of his hands. &#8220;Maybe
+&#8217;twill be a diamond tiara and a polo pony. Anyway,
+I know what &#8217;twon&#8217;t be--&#8217;twon&#8217;t
+be slippers or a neckerchief!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+<p>It was later than usual that Christmas morning when
+Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Bertram arose. If the old stomachs
+had rebelled a little at the pink peppermints and
+ice cream, and if the old feet had charged toll for
+their unaccustomed activity of the night before, neither
+Samuel nor Lydia Ann would acknowledge it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, we had it--that tree!&#8221; chuckled
+Samuel, as he somewhat stiffly thrust himself into
+his clothes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We did, Samuel,--we did,&#8221; quavered Lydia
+Ann joyfully, &#8220;an&#8217; wa&#8217;n&#8217;t it
+nice? Mis&#8217; Hopkins said she never had such a
+good time in all her life before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; Uncle Tim an&#8217; Grandpa Gowin&#8217;--they
+was as spry as crickets, an&#8217; they made old Pete
+tune up that &#8216;Money Musk&#8217; three times &#8217;fore
+they&#8217;d quit&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; an&#8217;--my grief an&#8217; conscience,
+Samuel! &#8217;tis late, ain&#8217;t it?&#8221; broke
+off Lydia Ann, anxiously peering at the clock. &#8220;Come,
+come, dear, you&#8217;ll have ter hurry &#8216;bout
+gettin&#8217; that tree out of the front room &#8217;fore
+the children get here. I wouldn&#8217;t have &#8217;em
+know for the world how silly we&#8217;ve been--not
+for the world!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Samuel bridled, but his movements showed a perceptible
+increase of speed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I do&#8217; know,&#8221; he chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;T wa&#8217;n&#8217;t anythin&#8217;
+so awful, after all. But, say,&#8221; he called triumphantly
+a moment later, as he stooped and picked up a small
+object from the floor, &#8220;they will find out if
+you don&#8217;t hide these &#8217;ere pep&#8217;mints!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The tree and the peppermints had scarcely disappeared
+from the &#8220;front room&#8221; when Frank arrived.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, they&#8217;re all coming in a minute,&#8221;
+he laughed gayly in response to the surprised questions
+that greeted him. &#8220;And we&#8217;ve brought the
+children, too. You&#8217;ll have a houseful, all right!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A houseful it certainly proved to be, and a lively
+one, too. In the kitchen &#8220;the girls&#8221; as
+usual reigned supreme, and bundled off the little
+mother to &#8220;visit with the boys and the children&#8221;
+during the process of dinner-getting, and after dinner
+they all gathered around the fireplace for games and
+stories.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And now,&#8221; said Frank when darkness came
+and the lamps were lighted, &#8220;I&#8217;ve got
+a new game, but it&#8217;s a very mysterious game,
+and you, Father and Mother, must not know a thing
+about it until it&#8217;s all ready.&#8221; And forthwith
+he conducted the little old man and the little old
+woman out into the kitchen with great ceremony.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, Samuel, seems as if this was &#8217;most
+as good as the party,&#8221; whispered Lydia Ann excitedly,
+as they waited in the dark. &#8220;I know it; an&#8217;
+they hain&#8217;t asked us once if we was gettin&#8217;
+too tired! Did ye notice, Lyddy Ann?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, an&#8217; they didn&#8217;t make us take
+naps, either. Ain&#8217;t it nice? Why, Samuel, I--I
+shan&#8217;t mind even the bed-slippers now,&#8221;
+she laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ready!&#8221; called Frank, and the dining-room
+door was thrown wide open.</p>
+
+<p>The old eyes blinked a little at the sudden light,
+then widened in amazement. Before the fireplace was
+a low sewing-table with a chair at each end. The table
+itself was covered with a white cloth which lay in
+fascinating little ridges and hillocks indicating concealed
+treasures beneath. About the table were grouped the
+four eager-eyed grandchildren and their no less eager-eyed
+parents. With still another ceremonious bow Frank
+escorted the little old man and the little old woman
+to the waiting chairs, and with a merry &#8220;One,
+two, three!&#8221; whisked off the cloth.</p>
+
+<p>For one amazed instant there was absolute silence;
+then Lydia Ann drew a long breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Samuel, Samuel, they&#8217;re presents--an&#8217;
+for us!&#8221; she quavered joyously. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+the bed-slippers and the neckerchiefs, an&#8217; they
+did &#8217;em all up in white paper an&#8217; red
+ribbons just for us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the corner of the mantelpiece a woman choked suddenly
+and felt for her handkerchief. Behind her two men
+turned sharply and walked toward the window; but the
+little old man and the little old woman did not notice
+it. They had forgotten everything but the enchanting
+array of mysteries before them.</p>
+
+<p>Trembling old hands hovered over the many-sized, many-shaped
+packages, and gently patted the perky red bows; but
+not until the grandchildren impatiently demanded,
+&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you look at &#8217;em?&#8221;
+did they venture to untie a single ribbon. Then the
+old eyes shone, indeed, at sight of the wonderful
+things disclosed; a fine lace tie and a bottle of perfume;
+a reading-glass and a basket of figs; some dates,
+raisins, nuts, and candies, and a little electric
+pocket lantern which would, at the pressure of a thumb,
+bring to light all the secrets of the darkest of rooms.
+There were books, too, such as Ella and Frank themselves
+liked to read; and there was a handsome little clock
+for the mantel--but there was not anywhere a pair
+of bed-slippers or a neckerchief.</p>
+
+<p>At last they were all opened, and there remained not
+one little red bow to untie. On the table, in all
+their pristine glory, lay the presents, and half-buried
+in bits of paper and red ribbon sat the amazed, but
+blissfully happy, little old man and little old woman.
+Lydia Ann&#8217;s lips parted, but the trembling words
+of thanks froze on her tongue--her eyes had fallen
+on a small pink peppermint on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no, we can&#8217;t take &#8217;em,&#8221;
+she cried agitatedly. &#8220;We hadn&#8217;t ought
+to. We was wicked and ongrateful, and last night we--we--&#8221;
+She paused helplessly, her eyes on her husband&#8217;s
+face. &#8220;Samuel, you--you tell,&#8221; she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>Samuel cleared his throat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, ye see, we--yes, last night, we--we--&#8221;
+He could say no more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We--we had a party to--to make up for things,&#8221;
+blurted out Lydia Ann. &#8220;And so ye see we--we
+hadn&#8217;t ought ter take these--all these!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Frank winced. His face grew a little white as he threw
+a quick glance into his sister&#8217;s eyes; but his
+voice, when he spoke, was clear and strong from sheer
+force of will.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A party? Good! I&#8217;m glad of it. Did you
+enjoy it?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Samuel&#8217;s jaw dropped. Lydia Ann stared speechlessly.
+This cordial approval of their folly was more incomprehensible
+than had been the failure to relegate them to naps
+and knitting earlier in the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you&#8217;ve got another party to-night,
+too; haven&#8217;t you?&#8221; went on Frank smoothly.
+&#8220;As for those things there&#8221;--he waved his
+hand toward the table--&#8220;of course you&#8217;ll
+take them. Why, we picked them out on purpose for
+you,--every single one of them,--and only think how
+we&#8217;d feel if you didn&#8217;t take them! Don&#8217;t
+you--like them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Like them&#8217;!&#8221; cried Lydia
+Ann, and at the stifled sob in her voice three men
+and three women caught their breath sharply and tried
+to swallow the lumps in their throats. &#8220;We--we
+just love them!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No one spoke. The grandchildren stared silently, a
+little awed. Ella, Frank, and Ned stirred restlessly
+and looked anywhere but at each other.</p>
+
+<p>Lydia Ann flushed, then paled. &#8220;Of course, if--if
+you picked &#8217;em out &#8217;specially for us--&#8221;
+she began hesitatingly, her eyes anxiously scanning
+the perturbed faces of her children.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We did--especially,&#8221; came the prompt
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>Lydia Ann&#8217;s gaze drifted to the table and lingered
+upon the clock, the tie, and the bottle of perfume.
+&#8220;&#8217;Specially for us,&#8221; she murmured
+softly. Then her face suddenly cleared. &#8220;Why,
+then we&#8217;ll have to take them, won&#8217;t we?&#8221;
+she cried, her voice tremulous with ecstasy. &#8220;We&#8217;ll
+just have to--whether we ought to or not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You certainly will!&#8221; declared Frank.
+And this time he did not even try to hide the shake
+in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; breathed Lydia Ann blissfully. &#8220;Samuel,
+I--I think I&#8217;ll take a fig, please!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_02"></a>Jupiter Ann</h1>
+
+<p>It was only after serious consideration that Miss
+Prue had bought the little horse, Jupiter, and then
+she changed the name at once. For a respectable spinster
+to drive any sort of horse was bad enough in Miss
+Prue&#8217;s opinion; but to drive a heathen one! To
+replace &#8220;Jupiter&#8221; she considered &#8220;Ann&#8221;
+a sensible, dignified, and proper name, and &#8220;Ann&#8221;
+she named him, regardless of age, sex, or &#8220;previous
+condition of servitude.&#8221; The villagers accepted
+the change--though with modifications; the horse was
+known thereafter as &#8220;Miss Prue&#8217;s Jupiter
+Ann.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prue had said that she wanted a safe, steady
+horse; one that would not run, balk, or kick. She
+would not have bought any horse, indeed, had it not
+been that the way to the post office, the store, the
+church, and everywhere else, had grown so unaccountably
+long--Miss Prue was approaching her sixtieth birthday.
+The horse had been hers now a month, and thus far
+it had been everything that a dignified, somewhat timid
+spinster could wish it to be. Fortunately--or unfortunately,
+as one may choose to look at it--Miss Prue did not
+know that in the dim recesses of Jupiter&#8217;s memory
+there lurked the smell of the turf, the feel of the
+jockey&#8217;s coaxing touch, and the sound of a triumphant
+multitude shouting his name; in Miss Prue&#8217;s
+estimation the next deadly sin to treason and murder
+was horse racing.</p>
+
+<p>There was no one in the town, perhaps, who did not
+know of Miss Prue&#8217;s abhorrence of horse racing.
+On all occasions she freed her mind concerning it;
+and there was a report that the only lover of her youth
+had lost his suit through his passion for driving fast
+horses. Even the county fair Miss Prue had refused
+all her life to attend--there was the horse racing.
+It was because of all this that she had been so loath
+to buy a horse, if only the way to everywhere had
+not grown so long!</p>
+
+<p>For four weeks--indeed, for five--the new horse, Ann,
+was a treasure; then, one day, Jupiter remembered.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prue was driving home from the post office. The
+wide, smooth road led straight ahead under an arch
+of flaming gold and scarlet. The October air was crisp
+and bracing, and unconsciously Miss Prue lifted her
+chin and drew a long breath. Almost at once, however,
+she frowned. From behind her had come the sound of
+a horse&#8217;s hoofs, and reluctantly Miss Prue pulled
+the right-hand rein.</p>
+
+<p>Jupiter Ann quickened his gait perceptibly, and lifted
+his head. His ears came erect.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whoa, Ann, whoa!&#8221; stammered Miss Prue
+nervously.</p>
+
+<p>The hoof beats were almost abreast now, and hurriedly
+Miss Prue turned her head. At once she gave the reins
+an angry jerk; in the other light carriage sat Rupert
+Joyce, the young man who for weeks had been unsuccessfully
+trying to find favor in her eyes because he had already
+found it in the eyes of her ward and niece, Mary Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-morning, Miss Prue,&#8221; called a boyish
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-morning,&#8221; snapped the woman, and
+jerked the reins again.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prue awoke then to the sudden realization that
+if the other&#8217;s speed had accelerated, so, too,
+had her own.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ann, Ann, whoa!&#8221; she commanded. Then
+she turned angry eyes on the young man. &#8220;Go
+by--go by! Why don&#8217;t you go by?&#8221; she called
+sharply.</p>
+
+<p>In obedience, young Joyce touched the whip to his
+gray mare: but he did not go by. With a curious little
+shake, as if casting off years of dull propriety,
+Jupiter Ann thrust forward his nose and got down to
+business.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prue grew white, then red. Her hands shook on
+the reins.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ann, Ann, whoa! You mustn&#8217;t--you can&#8217;t!
+Ann, please whoa!&#8221; she supplicated wildly. She
+might as well have besought the wind not to blow.</p>
+
+<p>On and on, neck and neck, the horses raced. Miss Prue&#8217;s
+bonnet slipped and hung rakishly above one ear. Her
+hair loosened and fell in straggling wisps of gray
+to her shoulders. Her eyeglasses dropped from her
+nose and swayed dizzily on their slender chain. Her
+gloves split across the back and showed the white,
+tense knuckles. Her breath came in gasps, and only
+a moaning &#8220;whoa--whoa&#8221; fell in jerky rhythm
+from her white lips. Ashamed, frightened, and dismayed,
+Miss Prue clung to the reins and kept her straining
+eyes on the road ahead.</p>
+
+<p>On and on down the long straight road flew Jupiter
+Ann and the little gray mare. At door and window of
+the scudding houses appeared men and women with startled
+faces and upraised hands. Miss Prue knew that they
+were there, and shuddered. The shame of it--she, in
+a horse-race, and with Rupert Joyce! Hurriedly she
+threw a look at the young man&#8217;s face to catch
+its expression; and then she saw something else: the
+little gray mare was a full half-head in the lead
+of Jupiter Ann!</p>
+
+<p>It was then that a strange something awoke in Miss
+Prue--a fierce new something that she had never felt
+before. Her lips set hard, and her eyes flashed a
+sudden fire. Her moaning &#8220;whoa--whoa&#8221; fell
+silent, and her hands loosened instinctively on the
+reins. She was leaning forward now, eagerly, anxiously,
+her eyes on the head of the other horse. Suddenly
+her tense muscles relaxed, and a look that was perilously
+near to triumphant joy crossed her face--Jupiter Ann
+was ahead once more!</p>
+
+<p>By the time the wide sweep of the driveway leading
+to Miss Prue&#8217;s home was reached, there was no
+question of the result, and well in the lead of the
+little gray mare Jupiter Ann trotted proudly up the
+driveway and came to a panting stop.</p>
+
+<p>Flushed, disheveled, and palpitating, Miss Prue picked
+her way to the ground. Behind her Rupert Joyce was
+just driving into the yard. He, too, was flushed and
+palpitating--though not for the same reason.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I just thought I&#8217;d drive out and see
+Mary Belle,&#8221; he blurted out airily, assuming
+a bold front to meet the wrath which he felt was sure
+to come. At once, however, his jaw dropped in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary Belle? I left her down in the orchard
+gathering apples,&#8221; Miss Prue was saying cheerfully.
+&#8220;You might look for her there.&#8221; And she
+smiled-- the gracious smile of the victor for the
+vanquished.</p>
+
+<p>Incredulously the youth stared; then, emboldened,
+he plunged on recklessly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I say, you know, Miss Prue, that little horse
+of yours can run!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prue stiffened. With a jerk she straightened
+her bonnet and thrust her glasses on her nose.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ann has been bad--very bad,&#8221; she said
+severely. &#8220;We&#8217;ll not talk of it, if you
+please. I am ashamed of her!&#8221; And he turned haughtily
+away.</p>
+
+<p>And yet--</p>
+
+<p>In the barn two minutes later, Miss Prue patted Jupiter
+Ann on the neck --a thing she had never done before.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We beat &#8217;em, anyhow, Ann,&#8221; she
+whispered. &#8220;And, after all, he&#8217;s a pleasant-spoken
+chap, and if Mary Belle wants him--why--let&#8217;s
+let her have him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_03"></a>The Axminster Path</h1>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, dear, here we are, all dressed for the
+day!&#8221; said the girl gayly, as she led the frail
+little woman along the strip of Axminster carpet that
+led to the big chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And Kathie?&#8221; asked the woman, turning
+her head with the groping uncertainty of the blind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here, mother,&#8221; answered a cheery voice.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m right here by the window.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; And the woman smiled happily. &#8220;Painting,
+I suppose, as usual.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m working, as usual,&#8221; returned
+the same cheery voice, its owner changing the position
+of the garment in her lap and reaching for a spool
+of silk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; breathed the blind woman, as
+she sank into the great chair. &#8220;Now I am all
+ready for my breakfast. Tell cook, please, Margaret,
+that I will have tea this morning, and just a roll
+besides my orange.&#8221; And she smoothed the folds
+of her black silk gown and picked daintily at the
+lace in her sleeves.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well, dearie,&#8221; returned her daughter.
+&#8220;You shall have it right away,&#8221; she added
+over her shoulder as she left the room.</p>
+
+<p>In the tiny kitchen beyond the sitting-room Margaret
+Whitmore lighted the gas-stove and set the water on
+to boil. Then she arranged a small tray with a bit
+of worn damask and the only cup and saucer of delicate
+china that the shelves contained. Some minutes later
+she went back to her mother, tray in hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Most starved to death?&#8221; she demanded
+merrily, as she set the tray upon the table Katherine
+had made ready before the blind woman. &#8220;You have
+your roll, your tea, your orange, as you ordered, dear,
+and just a bit of currant jelly besides.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Currant jelly? Well, I don&#8217;t know,--perhaps
+it will taste good. &#8217;T was so like Nora to send
+it up; she&#8217;s always trying to tempt my appetite,
+you know. Dear me, girls, I wonder if you realize what
+a treasure we have in that cook!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, dear, I know,&#8221; murmured Margaret
+hastily. &#8220;And now the tea, Mother--it&#8217;s
+getting colder every minute. Will you have the orange
+first?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The slender hands of the blind woman hovered for a
+moment over the table, then dropped slowly and found
+by touch the position of spoons, plates, and the cup
+of tea.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I have everything. I don&#8217;t need
+you any longer, Meg. I don&#8217;t like to take so
+much of your time, dear--you should let Betty do for
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I want to do it,&#8221; laughed Margaret.
+&#8220;Don&#8217;t you want me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Want you! That isn&#8217;t the question, dear,&#8221;
+objected Mrs. Whitmore gently. &#8220;Of course, a
+maid&#8217;s service can&#8217;t be compared for an
+instant with a daughter&#8217;s love and care; but
+I don&#8217;t want to be selfish--and you and Kathie
+never let Betty do a thing for me. There, there! I
+won&#8217;t scold any more. What are you going to
+do to-day, Meg?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Margaret hesitated. She was sitting by the window
+now, in a low chair near her sister&#8217;s. In her
+hands was a garment similar to that upon which Katherine
+was still at work.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I thought,&#8221; she began slowly, &#8220;I&#8217;d
+stay here with you and Katherine a while.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whitmore set down her empty cup and turned a
+troubled face toward the sound of her daughter&#8217;s
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Meg, dear,&#8221; she remonstrated, &#8220;is
+it that fancy-work?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, isn&#8217;t fancy-work all right?&#8221;
+The girl&#8217;s voice shook a little.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whitmore stirred uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, it--it isn&#8217;t--in this case,&#8221;
+she protested. &#8220;Meg, Kathie, I don&#8217;t like
+it. You are young; you should go out more--both of
+you. I understand, of course; it&#8217;s your unselfishness.
+You stay with me lest I get lonely; and you play at
+painting and fancy-work for an excuse. Now, dearies,
+there must be a change. You must go out. You must take
+your place in society. I will not have you waste your
+young lives.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother!&#8221; Margaret was on her feet, and
+Katherine had dropped her work. &#8220;Mother!&#8221;
+they cried again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I shan&#8217;t even listen,&#8221; faltered
+Margaret. &#8220;I shall go and leave you right away,&#8221;
+she finished tremulously, picking up the tray and hurrying
+from the room.</p>
+
+<p>It was hours later, after the little woman had trailed
+once more along the Axminster path to the bed in the
+room beyond and had dropped asleep, that Margaret
+Whitmore faced her sister with despairing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Katherine, what shall we do? This thing is
+killing me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The elder girl&#8217;s lips tightened. For an instant
+she paused in her work-- but for only an instant.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; she said feverishly; &#8220;but
+we mustn&#8217;t give up--we mustn&#8217;t!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But how can we help it? It grows worse and
+worse. She wants us to go out--to sing, dance, and
+make merry as we used to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then we&#8217;ll go out and--tell her we dance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But there&#8217;s the work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll take it with us. We can&#8217;t
+both leave at once, of course, but old Mrs. Austin,
+downstairs, will be glad to have one or the other of
+us sit with her an occasional afternoon or evening.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Margaret sprang to her feet and walked twice the length
+of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I&#8217;ve--lied so much already!&#8221;
+she moaned, pausing before her sister. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+all a lie--my whole life!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes, I know,&#8221; murmured the other,
+with a hurried glance toward the bedroom door. &#8220;But,
+Meg, we mustn&#8217;t give up--&#8217;twould kill her
+to know now. And, after all, it&#8217;s only a little
+while!--such a little while!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her voice broke with a half-stifled sob. The younger
+girl shivered, but did not speak. She walked again
+the length of the room and back; then she sat down
+to her work, her lips a tense line of determination,
+and her thoughts delving into the few past years for
+a strength that might help her to bear the burden
+of the days to come.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>Ten years before, and one week after James Whitmore&#8217;s
+death, Mrs. James Whitmore had been thrown from her
+carriage, striking on her head and back.</p>
+
+<p>When she came to consciousness, hours afterward, she
+opened her eyes on midnight darkness, though the room
+was flooded with sunlight. The optic nerve had been
+injured, the doctor said. It was doubtful if she would
+ever be able to see again.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was this all. There were breaks and bruises, and
+a bad injury to the spine. It was doubtful if she
+would ever walk again. To the little woman lying back
+on the pillow it seemed a living death--this thing
+that had come to her.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that Margaret and Katherine constituted
+themselves a veritable wall of defense between their
+mother and the world. Nothing that was not inspected
+and approved by one or the other was allowed to pass
+Mrs. Whitmore&#8217;s chamber door.</p>
+
+<p>For young women only seventeen and nineteen, whose
+greatest responsibility hitherto had been the selection
+of a gown or a ribbon, this was a new experience.</p>
+
+<p>At first the question of expense did not enter into
+consideration. Accustomed all their lives to luxury,
+they unhesitatingly demanded it now; and doctors,
+nurses, wines, fruits, flowers, and delicacies were
+summoned as a matter of course.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the crash. The estate of the supposedly
+rich James Whitmore was found to be deeply involved,
+and in the end there was only a pittance for the widow
+and her two daughters.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whitmore was not told of this at once. She was
+so ill and helpless that a more convenient season
+was awaited. That was nearly ten years ago--and she
+had not been told yet.</p>
+
+<p>Concealment had not been difficult at first. The girls
+had, indeed, drifted into the deception almost unconsciously,
+as it certainly was not necessary to burden the ears
+of the already sorely afflicted woman with the petty
+details of the economy and retrenchment on the other
+side of her door.</p>
+
+<p>If her own luxuries grew fewer, the change was so
+gradual that the invalid did not notice it, and always
+her blindness made easy the deception of those about
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Even the move to another home was accomplished without
+her realizing it --she was taken to the hospital for
+a month&#8217;s treatment, and when the month was
+ended she was tenderly carried home and laid on her
+own bed; and she did not know that &#8220;home&#8221;
+now was a cheap little flat in Harlem instead of the
+luxurious house on the avenue where her children were
+born.</p>
+
+<p>She was too ill to receive visitors, and was therefore
+all the more dependent on her daughters for entertainment.</p>
+
+<p>She pitied them openly for the grief and care she
+had brought upon them, and in the next breath congratulated
+them and herself that at least they had all that money
+could do to smooth the difficult way. In the face of
+this, it naturally did not grow any easier for the
+girls to tell the truth--and they kept silent.</p>
+
+<p>For six years Mrs. Whitmore did not step; then her
+limbs and back grew stronger, and she began to sit
+up, and to stand for a moment on her feet. Her daughters
+now bought the strip of Axminster carpet and laid a
+path across the bedroom, and another one from the bedroom
+door to the great chair in the sitting-room, so that
+her feet might not note the straw matting on the floor
+and question its being there.</p>
+
+<p>In her own sitting-room at home--which had opened,
+like this, out of her bedroom--the rugs were soft
+and the chairs sumptuous with springs and satin damask.
+One such chair had been saved from the wreck--the one
+at the end of the strip of carpet.</p>
+
+<p>Day by day and month by month the years passed. The
+frail little woman walked the Axminster path and sat
+in the tufted chair. For her there were a china cup
+and plate, and a cook and maids below to serve. For
+her the endless sewing over which Katherine and Margaret
+bent their backs to eke out their scanty income was
+a picture or a bit of embriodery, designed to while
+away the time.</p>
+
+<p>As Margaret thought of it it seemed incredible--this
+tissue of fabrications that enmeshed them; but even
+as she wondered she knew that the very years that
+marked its gradual growth made now its strength.</p>
+
+<p>And in a little while would come the end--a very little
+while, the doctor said.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret tightened her lips and echoed her sister&#8217;s
+words: &#8220;We mustn&#8217;t give up--we mustn&#8217;t!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Two days later the doctor called. He was a bit out
+of the old life.</p>
+
+<p>His home, too, had been--and was now, for that matter--on
+the avenue. He lived with his aunt, whose heir he
+was, and he was the only one outside of the Whitmore
+family that knew the house of illusions in which Mrs.
+Whitmore lived.</p>
+
+<p>His visits to the little Harlem flat had long ceased
+to have more than a semblance of being professional,
+and it was an open secret that he wished to make Margaret
+his wife. Margaret said no, though with a heightened
+color and a quickened breath--which told at least herself
+how easily the &#8220;no&#8221; might have been a
+&#8220;yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Littlejohn was young and poor, and he had only
+his profession, for all he was heir to one of the
+richest women on the avenue; and Margaret refused
+to burden him with what she knew it would mean to marry
+her. In spite of argument, therefore, and a pair of
+earnest brown eyes that pleaded even more powerfully,
+she held to her convictions and continued to say no.</p>
+
+<p>All this, however, did not prevent Dr. Littlejohn
+from making frequent visits to the Whitmore home,
+and always his coming meant joy to three weary, troubled
+hearts. To-day he brought a great handful of pink
+carnations and dropped them into the lap of the blind
+woman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sweets to the sweet!&#8221; he cried gayly,
+as he patted the slim hand on the arm of the chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor Ned--you dear boy! Oh, how lovely!&#8221;
+exclaimed Mrs. Whitmore, burying her face in the fragrant
+flowers. &#8220;And, doctor, I want to speak to you,&#8221;
+she broke off earnestly. &#8220;I want you to talk
+to Meg and Kathie. Perhaps they will listen to you.
+I want them to go out more. Tell them, please, that
+I don&#8217;t need them all the time now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear me, how independent we are going to be!&#8221;
+laughed the doctor. &#8220;And so we don&#8217;t need
+any more attention now, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Betty will do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Betty?&#8221; It was hard, sometimes, for the
+doctor to remember.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The maid,&#8221; explained Mrs. Whitmore; &#8220;though,
+for that matter, there might as well be no maid--the
+girls never let her do a thing for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No?&#8221; returned the doctor easily, sure
+now of where he stood. &#8220;But you don&#8217;t
+expect me to interfere in this housekeeping business!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Somebody must,&#8221; urged Mrs. Whitmore.
+&#8220;The girls must leave me more. It isn&#8217;t
+as if we were poor and couldn&#8217;t hire nurses and
+maids. I should die if it were like that, and I were
+such a burden.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, <i>dearest!</i>&#8221; broke in
+Margaret feverishly, with an imploring glance toward
+her sister and the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, by the way,&#8221; interposed the doctor
+airily, &#8220;it has occurred to me that the very
+object of my visit to-day is right along the lines
+of what you ask. I want Miss Margaret to go driving
+with me. I have a call to make out Washington Heights
+way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, but--&#8221; began Margaret, and paused
+at a gesture from her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There aren&#8217;t any &#8216;buts&#8217; about
+it,&#8221; declared Mrs. Whitmore. &#8220;Meg shall
+go.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course she&#8217;ll go!&#8221; echoed Katherine.
+And with three against her, Margaret&#8217;s protests
+were in vain.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Whitmore was nervous that night. She could not
+sleep.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to her that if she could get up and walk,
+back and forth, back and forth, she could rest afterward.
+She had not stepped alone yet, to be sure, since the
+accident, but, after all, the girls did little more
+than guide her feet, and she was sure that she could
+walk alone if she tried.</p>
+
+<p>The more she thought of it the more she longed to
+test her strength. Just a few steps back and forth,
+back and forth--then sleep. She was sure she could
+sleep then. Very quietly, that she might not disturb
+the sleepers in the bedroom beyond, the blind woman
+sat up in bed and slipped her feet to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Within reach were her knit slippers and the heavy
+shawl always kept at the head of her bed. With trembling
+hands she put them on and rose upright.</p>
+
+<p>At last she was on her feet, and alone. To a woman
+who for ten years had depended on others for almost
+everything but the mere act of breathing, it was joy
+unspeakable. She stepped once, twice, and again along
+the side of her bed; then she stopped with a puzzled
+frown--under her feet was the unyielding, unfamiliar
+straw matting. She took four more steps, hesitatingly,
+and with her arms outstretched at full length before
+her. The next instant she recoiled and caught her
+breath sharply; her hands had encountered a wall and
+a window--<i>and there should have been no wall
+or windows there</i>!</p>
+
+<p>The joy was gone now.</p>
+
+<p>Shaking with fear and weakness, the little woman crept
+along the wall and felt for something that would tell
+her that she was still at home. Her feet made no sound,
+and only her hurried breathing broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>Through the open door to the sitting-room, and down
+the wall to the right-on and on she crept.</p>
+
+<p>Here and there a familiar chair or stand met her groping
+hands and held them hesitatingly for a moment, only
+to release them to the terror of an unfamiliar corner
+or window-sill.</p>
+
+<p>The blind woman herself had long since lost all realization
+of what she was doing. There was only the frenzied
+longing to find her own. She did not hesitate even
+at the outer door of the apartment, but turned the
+key with shaking hands and stepped fearlessly into
+the hall. The next moment there came a scream and
+a heavy fall. The Whitmore apartment was just at the
+head of the stairs, and almost the first step of the
+blind woman had been off into space.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>When Mrs. Whitmore regained consciousness she was
+alone in her own bed.</p>
+
+<p>Out in the sitting-room, Margaret, Katherine, and
+the doctor talked together in low tones. At last the
+girls hurried into the kitchen, and the doctor turned
+and entered the bedroom. With a low ejaculation he
+hurried forward.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whitmore flung out her arm and clutched his hand;
+then she lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor,&#8221; she whispered, &#8220;where
+am I?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At home, in your own bed.&#8221;  &#8220;Where
+is this place?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Littlejohn paled. He sent an anxious glance toward
+the sitting-room door, though he knew very well that
+Margaret and Katherine were in the kitchen and could
+not hear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is this place?&#8221; begged the woman
+again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, it--it--is--&#8221; The man paused helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>Five thin fingers tightened their clasp on his hand,
+and the low voice again broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor, did you ever know--did you ever hear
+that a fall could give back--sight?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Littlejohn started and peered into the wan face
+lying back on the pillow. Its impassiveness reassured
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, perhaps--once or twice,&#8221; he returned
+slowly, falling back into his old position, &#8220;though
+rarely--very rarely.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it has happened?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it has happened. There was a case recently
+in England. The shock and blow released the pressure
+on the optic nerve; but--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Something in the face he was watching brought him
+suddenly forward in his chair. &#8220;My dear woman,
+you don&#8217;t mean--you can&#8217;t--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He did not finish his sentence. Mrs. Whitmore opened
+her eyes and met his gaze unflinchingly. Then she
+turned her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor,&#8221; she said, &#8220;that picture
+on the wall there at the foot of the bed--it doesn&#8217;t
+hang quite straight.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Whitmore!&#8221; breathed the man incredulously,
+half rising from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush! Not yet!&#8221; The woman&#8217;s insistent
+hand had pulled him back. &#8220;Why am I here? Where
+is this place?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor, you must tell me. I must know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the man hesitated. He noted the flushed cheeks
+and shaking hands of the woman before him. It was
+true, she must know; and perhaps, after all, it was
+best she should know through him. He drew a long breath
+and plunged straight into the heart of the story.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later a glad voice came from the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, dearest--then you&#8217;re awake!&#8221;
+The doctor was conscious of a low-breathed &#8220;Hush,
+don&#8217;t tell her!&#8221; in his ears; then, to
+his amazement, he saw the woman on the bed turn her
+head and hold out her hand with the old groping uncertainty
+of the blind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Margaret! It is Margaret, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Days afterward, when the weary, painracked body of
+the little mother was forever at rest, Margaret lifted
+her head from her lover&#8217;s shoulder, where she
+had been sobbing out her grief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ned, I can&#8217;t be thankful enough,&#8221;
+she cried, &#8220;that we kept it from Mother to the
+end. It&#8217;s my only comfort. She didn&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I&#8217;m sure she would wish that thought
+to be a comfort to you, dear,&#8221; said the doctor
+gently. &#8220;I am sure she would.&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_04"></a>Phineas and the Motor Car</h1>
+
+<p>Phineas used to wonder, sometimes, just when it was
+that he began to court Diantha Bowman, the rosy-cheeked,
+golden-haired idol of his boyhood. Diantha&#8217;s
+cheeks were not rosy now, and her hair was more silver
+than gold, but she was not yet his wife.</p>
+
+<p>And he had tried so hard to win her! Year after year
+the rosiest apples from his orchard and the choicest
+honey from his apiary had found their way to Diantha&#8217;s
+table; and year after year the county fair and the
+village picnic had found him at Diantha&#8217;s door
+with his old mare and his buggy, ready to be her devoted
+slave for the day. Nor was Diantha unmindful of all
+these attentions. She ate the apples and the honey,
+and spent long contented hours in the buggy; but she
+still answered his pleadings with her gentle: &#8220;I
+hain&#8217;t no call to marry yet, Phineas,&#8221;
+and nothing he could do seemed to hasten her decision
+in the least. It was the mare and the buggy, however,
+that proved to be responsible for what was the beginning
+of the end.</p>
+
+<p>They were on their way home from the county fair.
+The mare, head hanging, was plodding through the dust
+when around the curve of the road ahead shot the one
+automobile that the town boasted. The next moment the
+whizzing thing had passed, and left a superannuated
+old mare looming through a cloud of dust and dancing
+on two wabbly hind legs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Plague take them autymobiles!&#8221; snarled
+Phineas through set teeth, as he sawed at the reins.
+&#8220;I ax yer pardon, I&#8217;m sure, Dianthy,&#8221;
+he added shamefacedly, when the mare had dropped to
+a position more nearly normal; &#8220;but I hain&#8217;t
+no use fur them &#8217;ere contraptions!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Diantha frowned. She was frightened--and because she
+was frightened she was angry. She said the first thing
+that came into her head--and never had she spoken
+to Phineas so sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you did have some use for &#8217;em, Phineas
+Hopkins, you wouldn&#8217;t be crawlin&#8217; along
+in a shiftless old rig like this; you&#8217;d have
+one yourself an&#8217; be somebody! For my part, I
+like &#8217;em, an&#8217; I&#8217;m jest achin&#8217;
+ter ride in &#8217;em, too!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas almost dropped the reins in his amazement.
+&#8220;Achin&#8217; ter ride in &#8217;em,&#8221;
+she had said--and all that he could give her was this
+&#8220;shiftless old rig&#8221; that she so scorned.
+He remembered something else, too, and his face flamed
+suddenly red. It was Colonel Smith who owned and drove
+that automobile, and Colonel Smith, too, was a bachelor.
+What if--Instantly in Phineas&#8217;s soul rose a
+fierce jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I like a hoss, myself,&#8221; he said then,
+with some dignity. &#8220;I want somethin&#8217; that&#8217;s
+alive!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Diantha laughed slyly. The danger was past, and she
+could afford to be merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, it strikes me that you come pretty near
+havin&#8217; somethin&#8217; that <i>wa&#8217;n&#8217;t</i>
+alive jest &#8216;cause you had somethin&#8217; that
+was!&#8221; she retorted. &#8220;Really, Phineas,
+I didn&#8217;t s&#8217;pose Dolly could move so fast!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas bridled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dolly knew how ter move--once,&#8221; he rejoined
+grimly. &#8220;&#8217;Course nobody pretends ter say
+she&#8217;s young now, any more &#8217;n we be,&#8221;
+he finished with some defiance. But he drooped visibly
+at Diantha&#8217;s next words.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I don&#8217;t feel old, Phineas, an&#8217;
+I ain&#8217;t old, either. Look at Colonel Smith;
+he&#8217;s jest my age, an&#8217; he&#8217;s got a
+autymobile. Mebbe I&#8217;ll have one some day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>To Phineas it seemed that a cold hand clutched his
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dianthy, you wouldn&#8217;t really--ride in
+one!&#8221; he faltered.</p>
+
+<p>Until that moment Diantha had not been sure that she
+would, but the quaver in Phineas&#8217;s voice decided
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wouldn&#8217;t I? You jest wait an&#8217; see!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Phineas did wait--and he did see. He saw Diantha,
+not a week later, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, sitting
+by the side of Colonel Smith in that hated automobile.
+Nor did he stop to consider that Diantha was only
+one of a dozen upon whom Colonel Smith, in the enthusiasm
+of his new possession, was pleased to bestow that
+attention. To Phineas it could mean but one thing;
+and he did not change his opinion when he heard Diantha&#8217;s
+account of the ride.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was perfectly lovely,&#8221; she breathed.
+&#8220;Oh, Phineas, it was jest like flyin&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Flyin&#8217;!&#8217;&#8221; Phineas
+could say no more. He felt as if he were choking,--choking with the dust raised by Dolly&#8217;s plodding
+hoofs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; the trees an&#8217; the houses swept
+by like ghosts,&#8221; continued Diantha. &#8220;Why,
+Phineas, I could &#8216;a&#8217; rode on an&#8217;
+on furever!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Before the ecstatic rapture in Diantha&#8217;s face
+Phineas went down in defeat. Without one word he turned
+away--but in his heart he registered a solemn vow:
+he, too, would have an automobile; he, too, would make
+Diantha wish to ride on and on forever!</p>
+
+<p>Arduous days came then to Phineas. Phineas was not
+a rich man. He had enough for his modest wants, but
+until now those wants had not included an automobile--until
+now he had not known that Diantha wished to fly. All
+through the autumn and winter Phineas pinched and economized
+until he had lopped off all of the luxuries and most
+of the pleasures of living. Even then it is doubtful
+if he would have accomplished his purpose had he not,
+in the spring, fallen heir to a modest legacy of a
+few thousand dollars. The news of his good fortune
+was not two hours old when he sought Diantha.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cal&#8217;late mebbe I&#8217;ll be gettin&#8217;
+me one o&#8217; them &#8217;ere autymobiles this spring,&#8221;
+he said, as if casually filling a pause in the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Phineas</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the awed joy in Diantha&#8217;s voice the man&#8217;s
+heart glowed within him. This one moment of triumph
+was worth all the long miserable winter with its butterless
+bread and tobaccoless pipes. But he carefully hid his
+joy when he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he said nonchalantly. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+goin&#8217; ter Boston next week ter pick one out.
+I cal&#8217;late on gettin&#8217; a purty good one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Phineas! But how--how you goin&#8217; ter
+run it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas&#8217;s chin came up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Run it!&#8221; he scoffed. &#8220;Well, I hain&#8217;t
+had no trouble yet steerin&#8217; a hoss, an&#8217;
+I cal&#8217;late I won&#8217;t have any more steerin&#8217;
+a mess o&#8217; senseless metal what hain&#8217;t
+got no eyes ter be seein&#8217; things an&#8217; gittin&#8217;
+scared! I don&#8217;t worry none &#8216;bout runnin&#8217;
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Phineas, it ain&#8217;t all steerin&#8217;,&#8221;
+ventured Diantha, timidly. &#8220;There&#8217;s lots
+of little handles and things ter turn, an&#8217; there&#8217;s
+some things you do with your feet. Colonel Smith did.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The name Smith to Phineas was like a match to gunpowder.
+He flamed instantly into wrath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I cal&#8217;late what Colonel Smith does,
+I can,&#8221; he snapped. &#8220;Besides&#8221;--airily--&#8220;mebbe
+I shan&#8217;t git the feet kind, anyhow; I want the
+best. There&#8217;s as much as four or five kinds,
+Jim Blair says, an&#8217; I cal&#8217;late ter try
+&#8217;em all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh-h!&#8221; breathed Diantha, falling back
+in her chair with an ecstatic sigh. &#8220;Oh, Phineas,
+won&#8217;t it be grand!&#8221; And Phineas, seeing
+the joyous light in her eyes, gazed straight down
+a vista of happiness that led to wedding bells and
+bliss.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas was gone some time on his Boston trip. When
+he returned he looked thin and worried. He started
+nervously at trivial noises, and his eyes showed a
+furtive restlessness that quickly caused remark.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Phineas, you don&#8217;t look well!&#8221;
+Diantha exclaimed when she saw him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well? Oh, I&#8217;m well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; did you buy it--that autymobile?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I did.&#8221; Phineas&#8217;s voice was triumphant.
+Diantha&#8217;s eyes sparkled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is it?&#8221; she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Comin&#8217;--next week.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; did you try &#8217;em all, as you
+said you would?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas stirred; then he sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I dunno,&#8221; he acknowledged. &#8220;I
+hain&#8217;t done nothin&#8217; but ride in &#8217;em
+since I went down--I know that. But there&#8217;s such
+a powerful lot of &#8217;em, Dianthy; an&#8217; when
+they found out I wanted one, they all took hold an&#8217;
+showed off their best p&#8217;ints--&#8217;demonstatin&#8217;,&#8217;
+they called it. They raced me up hill an&#8217; down
+hill, an&#8217; scooted me round corners till I didn&#8217;t
+know where I was. I didn&#8217;t have a minute ter
+myself. An&#8217; they went fast, Dianthy-powerful
+fast. I ain&#8217;t real sure yet that I&#8217;m breathin&#8217;
+natural.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it must have been grand, Phineas! I should
+have loved it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, it was, &#8217;course!&#8221; assured Phineas,
+hastily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; you&#8217;ll take me ter ride, right
+away?&#8221; If Phineas hesitated it was for only
+a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Course,&#8221; he promised. &#8220;Er--there&#8217;s
+a man, he&#8217;s comin&#8217; with it, an&#8217;
+he&#8217;s goin&#8217; ter stay a little, jest ter--ter
+make sure everything&#8217;s all right. After he goes
+I&#8217;ll come. An&#8217; ye want ter be ready--I&#8217;ll
+show ye a thing or two!&#8221; he finished with a
+swagger that was meant to hide the shake in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>In due time the man and the automobile arrived, but
+Diantha did not have her ride at once. It must have
+taken some time to make sure that &#8220;everything
+was all right,&#8221; for the man stayed many days,
+and while he was there, of course Phineas was occupied
+with him. Colonel Smith was unkind enough to observe
+that he hoped it was taking Phineas Hopkins long enough
+to learn to run the thing; but his remark did not reach
+Diantha&#8217;s ears. She knew only that Phineas, together
+with the man and the automobile, started off early
+every morning for some unfrequented road, and did
+not return until night.</p>
+
+<p>There came a day, however, when the man left town,
+and not twenty-four hours later, Phineas, with a gleaming
+thing of paint and polish, stood at Diantha&#8217;s
+door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now ain&#8217;t that pretty,&#8221; quavered
+Diantha excitedly. &#8220;Ain&#8217;t that awful pretty!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas beamed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Purty slick, I think myself,&#8221; he acknowledged.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; green is so much nicer than red,&#8221;
+cooed Diantha.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas quite glowed with joy--Colonel Smith&#8217;s
+car was red. &#8220;Oh, green&#8217;s the thing,&#8221;
+he retorted airily; &#8220;an&#8217; see!&#8221; he
+added; and forthwith he burst into a paean of praise,
+in which tires, horns, lamps, pumps, baskets, brakes,
+and mud-guards were the dominant notes. It almost
+seemed, indeed, that he had bought the gorgeous thing
+before him to look at and talk about rather than to
+use, so loath was he to stop talking and set the wheels
+to moving. Not until Diantha had twice reminded him
+that she was longing to ride in it did he help her
+into the car and make ready to start.</p>
+
+<p>It was not an entire success--that start. There were
+several false moves on Phineas&#8217;s part, and Diantha
+could not repress a slight scream and a nervous jump
+at sundry unexpected puffs and snorts and snaps from
+the throbbing thing beneath her. She gave a louder
+scream when Phineas, in his nervousness, sounded the
+siren, and a wail like a cry from the spirit world
+shrieked in her ears.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Phineas, what was that?&#8221; she shivered,
+when the voice had moaned into silence.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas&#8217;s lips were dry, and his hands and knees
+were shaking; but his pride marched boldly to the
+front.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, that&#8217;s the siren whistle, &#8217;course,&#8221;
+he chattered. &#8220;Ain&#8217;t it great? I thought
+you&#8217;d like it!&#8221; And to hear him one would
+suppose that to sound the siren was always a necessary
+preliminary to starting the wheels.</p>
+
+<p>They were off at last. There was a slight indecision,
+to be sure, whether they would go backward or forward,
+and there was some hesitation as to whether Diantha&#8217;s
+geranium bed or the driveway would make the best thoroughfare.
+But these little matters having been settled to the
+apparent satisfaction of all concerned, the automobile
+rolled down the driveway and out on to the main highway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, ain&#8217;t this grand!&#8221; murmured
+Diantha, drawing a long but somewhat tremulous breath.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas did not answer. His lips were tense, and his
+eyes were fixed on the road ahead. For days now he
+had run the car himself, and he had been given official
+assurance that he was quite capable of handling it;
+yet here he was on his first ride with Diantha almost
+making a failure of the whole thing at the start.
+Was he to be beaten--beaten by a senseless motor car
+and Colonel Smith? At the thought Phineas lifted his
+chin and put on more power.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, my! How f-fast we&#8217;re goin&#8217;!&#8221;
+cried Diantha, close to his ear.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who wants ter crawl?&#8221; he shouted; and
+the car leaped again at the touch of his hand.</p>
+
+<p>They were out of the town now, on a wide road that
+had few turns. Occasionally they met a carriage or
+a wagon, but the frightened horses and the no less
+frightened drivers gave the automobile a wide berth--which was well; for the parallel tracks behind Phineas
+showed that the car still had its moments of indecision
+as to the course to pursue.</p>
+
+<p>The town was four miles behind them when Diantha,
+who had been for some time vainly clutching at the
+flying ends of her veil, called to Phineas to stop.</p>
+
+<p>The request took Phineas by surprise. For one awful
+moment his mind was a blank--he had forgotten how
+to stop! In frantic haste he turned and twisted and
+shoved and pulled, ending with so sudden an application
+of the brakes that Diantha nearly shot head first
+out of the car as it stopped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, why--Phineas!&#8221; she cried a little
+sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas swallowed the lump in his throat and steadied
+himself in his seat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye see I--I can stop her real quick if I want
+to,&#8221; he explained jauntily. &#8220;Ye can do
+&#8216;most anythin&#8217; with these &#8217;ere things
+if ye only know how, Dianthy. Didn&#8217;t we come
+slick?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, indeed,&#8221; stammered Diantha, hastily
+smoothing out the frown on her face and summoning
+a smile to her lips--not for her best black silk gown
+would she have had Phineas know that she was wishing
+herself safe at home and the automobile back where
+it came from.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll go home through the Holler,&#8221;
+said Phineas, after she had retied her veil and they
+were ready to start. &#8220;It&#8217;s the long way
+round, ye know. I ain&#8217;t goin&#8217; ter give
+ye no snippy little two-mile run, Dianthy, like Colonel
+Smith did,&#8221; he finished gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, of course not,&#8221; murmured Diantha,
+smothering a sigh as the automobile started with a
+jerk.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, tired, frightened, a little breathless,
+but valiantly declaring that she had had a &#8220;beautiful
+time,&#8221; Diantha was set down at her own door.</p>
+
+<p>That was but the first of many such trips. Ever sounding
+in Phineas Hopkins&#8217;s ears and spurring him to
+fresh endeavor, were Diantha&#8217;s words, &#8220;I
+could &#8216;a&#8217; rode on an&#8217; on furever&#8221;;
+and deep in his heart was the determination that if
+it was automobile rides that she wanted, it was automobile
+rides that she should have! His small farm on the edge
+of the town--once the pride of his heart--began to
+look forlorn and deserted; for Phineas, when not actually
+driving his automobile, was usually to be found hanging
+over it with wrench and polishing cloth. He bought
+little food and less clothing, but always--gasolene.
+And he talked to any one who would listen about automobiles
+in general and his own in particular, learnedly dropping
+in frequent references to cylinders, speed, horse
+power, vibrators, carburetors, and spark plugs.</p>
+
+<p>As for Diantha--she went to bed every night with thankfulness
+that she possessed her complement of limbs and senses,
+and she rose every morning with a fear that the coming
+night would find some of them missing. To Phineas
+and the town in general she appeared to be devoted
+to this breathless whizzing over the country roads;
+and wild horses could not have dragged from her the
+truth: that she was longing with an overwhelming longing
+for the old days of Dolly, dawdling, and peace.</p>
+
+<p>Just where it all would have ended it is difficult
+to say had not the automobile itself taken a hand
+in the game--as automobiles will sometimes--and played
+trumps.</p>
+
+<p>It was the first day of the county fair again, and
+Phineas and Diantha were on their way home. Straight
+ahead the road ran between clumps of green, then unwound
+in a white ribbon of dust across wide fields and open
+meadows.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tain&#8217;t much like last year, is it, Dianthy?&#8221;
+crowed Phineas, shrilly, in her ear--then something
+went wrong.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas knew it instantly. The quivering thing beneath
+them leaped into new life--but a life of its own.
+It was no longer a slave, but a master. Phineas&#8217;s
+face grew white. Thus far he had been able to keep
+to the road, but just ahead there was a sharp curve,
+and he knew he could not make the turn--something
+was the matter with the steering-gear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look out--she&#8217;s got the bits in her teeth!&#8221;
+he shouted. &#8220;She&#8217;s bolted!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There came a scream, a sharp report, and a grinding
+crash--then silence.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>From away off in the dim distance Phineas heard a
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Phineas! Phineas!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Something snapped, and he seemed to be floating up,
+up, up, out of the black oblivion of nothingness.
+He tried to speak, but he knew that he made no sound.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Phineas! Phineas!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The voice was nearer now, so near that it seemed just
+above him. It sounded like--With a mighty effort he
+opened his eyes; then full consciousness came. He
+was on the ground, his head in Diantha&#8217;s lap.
+Diantha, bonnet crushed, neck-bow askew, and coat torn,
+was bending over him, calling him frantically by name.
+Ten feet away the wrecked automobile, tip-tilted against
+a large maple tree, completed the picture.</p>
+
+<p>With a groan Phineas closed his eyes and turned away
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s all stove up--an&#8217; now you
+won&#8217;t ever say yes,&#8221; he moaned. &#8220;You
+wanted ter ride on an&#8217; on furever!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I will--I don&#8217;t--I didn&#8217;t mean
+it,&#8221; sobbed Diantha incoherently. &#8220;I&#8217;d
+rather have Dolly twice over. I <i>like</i> ter
+crawl. Oh, Phineas, I hate that thing--I&#8217;ve
+always hated it! I&#8217;ll say yes next week--to-morrow--to-day
+if you&#8217;ll only open your eyes and tell me you
+ain&#8217;t a-dyin&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas was not dying, and he proved it promptly and
+effectually, even to the doubting Diantha&#8217;s
+blushing content. And there their rescuers found them
+a long half-hour later--a blissful old man and a happy
+old woman sitting hand in hand by the wrecked automobile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cal&#8217;lated somebody&#8217;d be along
+purty soon,&#8221; said Phineas, rising stiffly. &#8220;Ye
+see, we&#8217;ve each got a foot that don&#8217;t go,
+so we couldn&#8217;t git help; but we hain&#8217;t
+minded the wait--not a mite!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_05"></a>The Most Wonderful Woman</h1>
+
+<p><b>And a Great Man who proves himself truly great</b></p>
+
+<p>It was Old Home Week in the little village, and this
+was to be the biggest day. From a distant city was
+to come the town&#8217;s one really Great Man, to
+speak in the huge tent erected on the Common for just
+that purpose. From end to end the village was aflame
+with bunting and astir with excitement, so that even
+I, merely a weary sojourner in the place, felt the
+thrill and tingled pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>When the Honorable Jonas Whitermore entered the tent
+at two o&#8217;clock that afternoon I had a good view
+of him, for my seat was next the broad aisle. Behind
+him on the arm of an usher came a small, frightened-looking
+little woman in a plain brown suit and a plainer brown
+bonnet set askew above thin gray hair. The materials
+of both suit and bonnet were manifestly good, but
+all distinction of line and cut was hopelessly lost
+in the wearing. Who she was I did not know; but I soon
+learned, for one of the two young women in front of
+me said a low something to which the other gave back
+a swift retort, woefully audible: &#8220;<i>His wife</i>?
+That little dowdy thing in brown? Oh, what a pity!
+Such an ordinary woman!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>My cheeks grew hot in sympathy with the painful red
+that swept to the roots of the thin gray hair under
+the tip-tilted bonnet. Then I glanced at the man.</p>
+
+<p>Had he heard? I was not quite sure. His chin, I fancied,
+was a trifle higher. I could not see his eyes, but
+I did see his right hand; and it was clenched so tightly
+that the knuckles were white with the strain. I thought
+I knew then. He had heard. The next minute he had passed
+on up the aisle and the usher was seating the more-frightened-than-ever
+little wife in the roped-off section reserved for
+important guests.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that I became aware that the man on my
+right was saying something.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I beg your pardon, but-did you speak--to me?&#8221;
+I asked, turning to him hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>The old man met my eyes with an abashed smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess I&#8217;m the party what had ought
+to be askin&#8217; pardon, stranger,&#8221; he apologized.
+&#8220;I talk to myself so much I kinder furgit sometimes,
+and do it when folks is round. I was only sayin&#8217;
+that I wondered why &#8217;twas the good Lord give
+folks tongues and forgot to give &#8217;em brains to
+run &#8217;em with. But maybe you didn&#8217;t hear
+what she said,&#8221; he hazarded, with a jerk of
+his thumb toward the young woman in front.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;About Mrs. Whitermore? Yes, I heard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His face darkened.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you know. And she heard, too! &#8216;Ordinary
+woman,&#8217; indeed! Humph! To think that Betty Tillington
+should ever live to hear herself called an &#8216;ordinary
+woman&#8217;! You see, I knew her when she <i>was</i>
+Betty Tillington.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you?&#8221; I smiled encouragingly. I was
+getting interested, and I hoped he would keep on talking.
+On the platform the guest of honor was holding a miniature
+reception. He was the picture of polite attention and
+punctilious responsiveness; but I thought I detected
+a quick glance now and then toward the roped-off section
+where sat his wife and I wondered again--had he heard
+that thoughtless comment?</p>
+
+<p>From somewhere had come the rumor that the man who
+was to introduce the Honorable Jonas Whitermore had
+been delayed by a washout &#8220;down the road,&#8221;
+but was now speeding toward us by automobile. For my
+part, I fear I wished the absentee a punctured tire
+so that I might hear more of the heart-history of
+the faded little woman with the bonnet askew.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I knew her,&#8221; nodded my neighbor,
+&#8220;and she didn&#8217;t look much then like she
+does now. She was as pretty as a picture and there
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t a chap within sight of her what
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t head over heels in love with her.
+But there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t never a chance for but
+two of us and we knew it: Joe Whitermore and a chap
+named Fred Farrell. So, after a time, we just sort
+of stood off and watched the race--as pretty a race
+as ever you see. Farrell had the money and the good
+looks, while Whitermore was poor as a church mouse,
+and he was homely, too. But Whitermore must have had
+somethin&#8217;--maybe somethin&#8217; we didn&#8217;t
+see, for she took <i>him</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, they married and settled down happy as
+two twitterin&#8217; birds, but poor as Job&#8217;s
+turkey. For a year or so she was as pretty and gay
+as ever she was and into every good time goin&#8217;;
+then the babies came, one after another, some of &#8217;em
+livin&#8217; and some dyin&#8217; soon after they came.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course, things was different then. What
+with the babies and the housework, Betty couldn&#8217;t
+get out much, and we didn&#8217;t see much of her.
+When we did see her, though, she&#8217;d smile and
+toss her head in the old way and say how happy she
+was and didn&#8217;t we think her babies was the prettiest
+things ever, and all that. And we did, of course, and
+told her so.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But we couldn&#8217;t help seein&#8217; that
+she was gettin&#8217; thin and white and that no matter
+how she tossed her head, there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any
+curls there to bob like they used to, &#8217;cause
+her hair was pulled straight back and twisted up into
+a little hard knot just like as if she had done it
+up when some one was callin&#8217; her to come quick.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I can imagine it,&#8221; I nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, that&#8217;s the way things went at the
+first, while he was gettin&#8217; his start, and I
+guess they was happy then. You see, they was pullin&#8217;
+even them days and runnin&#8217; neck and neck. Even
+when Fred Farrell, her old beau, married a girl she
+knew and built a fine house all piazzas and bow-winders
+right in sight of their shabby little rented cottage,
+I don&#8217;t think she minded it; even if Mis&#8217;
+Farrell didn&#8217;t have anythin&#8217; to do from
+mornin&#8217; till night only set in a white dress
+on her piazza, and rock, and give parties, Betty didn&#8217;t
+seem to mind. She had her Joe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But by and by she didn&#8217;t have her Joe.
+Other folks had him and his business had him. I mean,
+he&#8217;d got up where the big folks in town begun
+to take notice of him; and when he wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+tendin&#8217; to business, he was hobnobbin&#8217;
+with them, so&#8217;s to bring <i>more</i> business.
+And--of course she, with her babies and housework,
+didn&#8217;t have no time for that.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, next they moved away. When they went
+they took my oldest girl, Mary, to help Betty; and
+so we still kept track of &#8217;em. Mary said it was
+worse than ever in the new place. It was quite a big
+city and just livin&#8217; cost a lot. Mr. Whitermore,
+of course, had to look decent, out among folks as
+he was, so he had to be &#8217;tended to first. Then
+what was left of money and time went to the children.
+It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t long, too, before the big folks
+<i>there</i> begun to take notice, and Mr. Whitermore
+would come home all excited and tell about what was
+said to him and what fine things he was bein&#8217;
+asked to do. He said &#8216;twas goin&#8217; to mean
+everythin&#8217; to his career.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then come the folks to call, ladies in fine
+carriages with dressed-up men to hold the door open
+and all that; but always, after they&#8217;d gone,
+Mary&#8217;d find Betty cryin&#8217; somewhere, or
+else tryin&#8217; to fix a bit of old lace or ribbon
+on to some old dress. Mary said Betty&#8217;s clo&#8217;s
+were awful, then. You see, there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+never any money left for <i>her</i> things. But
+all this didn&#8217;t last long, for very soon the
+fine ladies stopped comin&#8217; and Betty just settled
+down to the children and didn&#8217;t try to fix her
+clo&#8217;s any more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But by and by, of course, the money begun to
+come in--lots of it--and that meant more changes,
+naturally. They moved into a bigger house, and got
+two more hired girls and a man, besides Mary. Mr. Whitermore
+said he didn&#8217;t want his wife to work so hard
+now, and that, besides, his position demanded it.
+He was always talkin&#8217; about his position those
+days, tryin&#8217; to get his wife to go callin&#8217;
+and go to parties and take her place as his wife,
+as he put it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And Mary said Betty did try, and try hard.
+Of course she had nice clo&#8217;s now, lots of &#8217;em;
+but somehow they never seemed to look just right. And
+when she did go to parties, she never knew what to
+talk about, she told Mary. She didn&#8217;t know a
+thing about the books and pictures and the plays and
+quantities of other things that everybody else seemed
+to know about; and so she just had to sit still and
+say nothin&#8217;.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary said she could see it plagued her and
+she wa&#8217;n&#8217;t surprised when, after a time,
+Betty begun to have headaches and be sick party nights,
+and beg Mr. Whitermore to go alone--and then cry because
+he did go alone. You see, she&#8217;d got it into
+her head then that her husband was ashamed of her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And was--he?&#8221; demanded I.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. Mary said she couldn&#8217;t
+tell exactly. He seemed worried, sometimes, and quite
+put out at the way his wife acted about goin&#8217;
+to places. Then, other times, he didn&#8217;t seem
+to notice or care if he did have to go alone. It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+that he was unkind to her. It was just that he was
+so busy lookin&#8217; after himself that he forgot
+all about her. But Betty took it all as bein&#8217;
+ashamed of her, no matter what he did; and for a while
+she just seemed to pine away under it. They&#8217;d
+moved to Washington by that time and, of course, with
+him in the President&#8217;s Cabinet, it was pretty
+hard for her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then, all of a sudden, she took a new turn
+and begun to study and to try to learn things--everything:
+how to talk and dress and act, besides stuff that
+was just book-learnin&#8217;. She&#8217;s been doin&#8217;
+that for quite a spell and Mary says she thinks she&#8217;d
+do pretty well now, in lots of ways, if only she had
+half a chance--somethin&#8217; to encourage her, you
+know. But her husband don&#8217;t seem to take no notice,
+now, just as if he&#8217;s got tired expectin&#8217;
+anythin&#8217; of her and that&#8217;s made her so
+scared and discouraged she&#8217;s too nervous to
+act as if she <i>did</i> know anythin&#8217;.
+An&#8217; there &#8217;t is.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, maybe she is just an ordinary woman,&#8221;
+sighed the old man, a little sternly, &#8220;if bein&#8217;
+&#8216;ordinary&#8217; means she&#8217;s like lots
+of others. For I suspect, stranger, that, if the truth
+was told, lots of other big men have got wives just
+like her--women what have been workin&#8217; so tarnal
+hard to help their husbands get ahead that they hain&#8217;t
+had time to see where they themselves was goin&#8217;.
+And by and by they wake up to the fact that they hain&#8217;t
+got nowhere. They&#8217;ve just stayed still, &#8217;way
+behind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary says she don&#8217;t believe Betty would
+mind even that, if her husband only seemed to care--to--to
+understand, you know, how it had been with her and
+how--Crickey! I guess they&#8217;ve come,&#8221; broke
+off the old man suddenly, craning his neck for a better
+view of the door.</p>
+
+<p>From outside had sounded the honk of an automobile
+horn and the wild cheering of men and boys. A few
+minutes later the long-delayed programme began.</p>
+
+<p>It was the usual thing. Before the Speaker of the
+Day came other speakers, and each of them, no matter
+what his subject, failed not to refer to &#8220;our
+illustrious fellow townsman&#8221; in terms of highest
+eulogy. One told of his humble birth, his poverty-driven
+boyhood, his strenuous youth. Another drew a vivid
+picture of his rise to fame. A third dilated upon
+the extraordinary qualities of brain and body which
+had made such achievement possible and which would
+one day land him in the White House itself.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, close to the speaker&#8217;s stand sat
+the Honorable Jonas Whitermore himself, for the most
+part grim and motionless, though I thought I detected
+once or twice a repetition of the half-troubled, half-questioning
+glances directed toward his wife that I had seen before.
+Perhaps it was because I was watching him so closely
+that I saw the sudden change come to his face. The
+lips lost their perfunctory smile and settled into
+determined lines. The eyes, under their shaggy brows,
+glowed with sudden fire. The entire pose and air of
+the man became curiously alert, as if with the eager
+impatience of one who has determined upon a certain
+course of action and is anxious only to be up and
+doing. Very soon after that he was introduced, and,
+amid deafening cheers, rose to his feet. Then, very
+quietly, he began to speak.</p>
+
+<p>We had heard he was an orator. Doubtless many of us
+were familiar with his famous nickname &#8220;Silver-tongued
+Joe.&#8221; We had expected great things of him--a
+brilliant discourse on the tariff, perhaps, or on our
+foreign relations, or yet on the Hague Tribunal. But
+we got none of these. We got first a few quiet words
+of thanks and appreciation for the welcome extended
+him; then we got the picture of an everyday home just
+like ours, with all its petty cares and joys so vividly
+drawn that we thought we were seeing it, not hearing
+about it. He told us it was a little home of forty
+years ago, and we began to realize, some way, that
+he was speaking of himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I may, you know, here,&#8221; he said, &#8220;for
+I am among my own people. I am at home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Even then I didn&#8217;t see what he was coming to.
+Like the rest I sat slightly confused, wondering what
+it all meant. Then, suddenly, into his voice there
+crept a tense something that made me sit more erect
+in my seat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>My</i> indomitable will-power? <i>My</i>
+superb courage? <i>My</i> stupendous strength
+of character? <i>My</i> undaunted persistence
+and marvelous capacity for hard work?&#8221; he was
+saying. &#8220;Do you think it&#8217;s to that I owe
+what I am? Never! Come back with me to that little
+home of forty years ago and I&#8217;ll show you to
+what and to whom I do owe it. First and foremost I
+owe it to a woman--no ordinary woman, I want you to
+understand--but to the most wonderful woman in the
+world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I knew then. So did my neighbor, the old man at my
+side. He jogged my elbow frantically and whispered:--</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s goin&#8217; to--he&#8217;s goin&#8217;
+to! He&#8217;s goin&#8217; to show her he <i>does</i>
+care and understand! He <i>did</i> hear that girl.
+Crickey! But ain&#8217;t he the cute one to pay her
+back like that, for what she said?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The little wife down front did not know--yet, however.
+I realized that, the minute I looked at her and saw
+her drawn face and her frightened, staring eyes fixed
+on her husband up there on the platform--her husband,
+who was going to tell all these people about some wonderful
+woman whom even she had never heard of before, but
+who had been the making of him, it seemed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>My</i> will-power?&#8221; the Honorable
+Jonas Whitermore was saying then. &#8220;Not mine,
+but the will-power of a woman who did not know the
+meaning of the word &#8216;fail.&#8217; Not my superb
+courage, but the courage of one who, day in and day
+out, could work for a victory whose crown was to go,
+not to herself, but to another. Not my stupendous
+strength of character, but that of a beautiful young
+girl who could see youth and beauty and opportunity
+nod farewell, and yet smile as she saw them go. Not
+my undaunted persistence, but the persistence of one
+to whom the goal is always just ahead, but never reached.
+And last, not my marvelous capacity for hard work,
+but that of the wife and mother who bends her back
+each morning to a multitude of tasks and cares that
+she knows night will only interrupt--not finish.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>My eyes were still on the little brown-clad woman
+down in front, so I saw the change come to her face
+as her husband talked. I saw the terror give way to
+puzzled questioning, and that, in turn, become surprise,
+incredulity, then overwhelming joy as the full meaning
+came to her that she herself was that most wonderful
+woman in the world who had been the making of him.
+I looked then for just a touch of the old frightened,
+self-consciousness at finding herself thus so conspicuous;
+but it did not come. The little woman plainly had
+forgotten us. She was no longer Mrs. Jonas Whitermore
+among a crowd of strangers listening to a great man&#8217;s
+Old-Home-Day speech. She was just a loving, heart-hungry,
+tired, all-but-discouraged wife hearing for the first
+time from the lips of her husband that he knew and
+cared and understood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Through storm and sunshine, she was always
+there at her post, aiding, encouraging, that I might
+be helped,&#8221; the Honorable Jonas Whitermore was
+saying. &#8220;Week in and week out she fought poverty,
+sickness, and disappointments, and all without a murmur,
+lest her complaints distract me for one precious moment
+from my work. Even the nights brought her no rest,
+for while I slept, she stole from cot to cradle and
+from cradle to crib, covering outflung little legs
+and arms, cooling parched little throats with water,
+quieting fretful whimpers and hushing threatening
+outcries with a low &#8217;Hush, darling, mother&#8217;s
+here. Don&#8217;t cry! You&#8217;ll wake father--and
+father must have his sleep.&#8217; And father had it--that
+sleep, just as he had the best of everything else in
+the house: food, clothing, care, attention--everything.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What mattered it if her hands did grow rough
+and toil-worn? Mine were left white and smooth--for
+my work. What mattered it if her back and her head
+and her feet did ache? Mine were left strong and painless--for
+my work. What mattered her wakefulness if I slept?
+What mattered her weariness if I was rested? What
+mattered her disappointments if my aims were accomplished?
+Nothing!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Honorable Jonas Whitermore paused for breath,
+and I caught mine and held it. It seemed, for a minute,
+as if everybody all over the house was doing the same
+thing, too, so absolutely still was it, after that
+one word--&#8220;nothing.&#8221; They were beginning
+to understand--a little. I could tell that. They were
+beginning to see this big thing that was taking place
+right before their eyes. I glanced at the little woman
+down in front. The tender glow on her face had grown
+and deepened and broadened until her whole little
+brown-clad self seemed transfigured. My own eyes dimmed
+as I looked. Then, suddenly I became aware that the
+Honorable Jonas Whitermore was speaking again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And not for one year only, nor two, nor ten,
+has this quintessence of devotion been mine,&#8221;
+he was saying, &#8220;but for twice ten and then a
+score more--for forty years. For forty years! Did
+you ever stop to think how long forty years could
+be--forty years of striving and straining, of pinching
+and economizing, of serving and sacrificing? Forty
+years of just loving somebody else better than yourself,
+and doing this every day, and every hour of the day
+for the whole of those long forty years? It isn&#8217;t
+easy to love somebody else <i>always</i> better
+than yourself, you know! It means the giving up of
+lots of things that <i>you</i> want. You might
+do it for a day, for a month, for a year even--but
+for forty years! Yet she has done it--that most wonderful
+woman. Do you wonder that I say it is to her, and
+to her alone, under God, that I owe all that I am,
+all that I hope to be?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Once more he paused. Then, in a voice that shook a
+little at the first, but that rang out clear and strong
+and powerful at the end, he said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ladies, gentlemen, I understand this will close
+your programme. It will give me great pleasure, therefore,
+if at the adjournment of this meeting you will allow
+me to present you to the most wonderful woman in the
+world--my wife.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I wish I could tell you what happened then. The words--oh,
+yes, I could tell you in words what happened. For
+that matter, the reporters at the little stand down
+in front told it in words, and the press of the whole
+country blazoned it forth on the front page the next
+morning. But really to know what happened, you should
+have heard it and seen it, and felt the tremendous
+power of it deep in your soul, as we did who did see
+it.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment&#8217;s breathless hush, then to
+the canvas roof there rose a mighty cheer and a thunderous
+clapping of hands as by common impulse the entire
+audience leaped to its feet.</p>
+
+<p>For one moment only did I catch a glimpse of Mrs.
+Jonas Whitermore, blushing, laughing, and wiping teary
+eyes in which the wondrous glow still lingered; then
+the eager crowd swept down the aisle toward her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Crickey!&#8221; breathed the red-faced old
+man at my side. &#8220;Well, stranger, even if it
+does seem sometimes as if the good Lord give some folks
+tongues and forgot to give &#8217;em brains to run
+&#8217;em with, I guess maybe He kinder makes up for
+it, once in a while, by givin&#8217; other folks the
+brains to use their tongues so powerful well!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I nodded dumbly. I could not speak just then--but
+the young woman in front of me could. Very distinctly
+as I passed her I heard her say:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, now, ain&#8217;t that the limit, Sue?
+And her such an ordinary woman, too!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_06"></a>The Price of a Pair of Shoes</h1>
+
+<p>For fifty years the meadow lot had been mowed and
+the side hill ploughed at the nod of Jeremiah&#8217;s
+head; and for the same fifty years the plums had been
+preserved and the mince-meat chopped at the nod of
+his wife&#8217;s-- and now the whole farm from the
+meadowlot to the mince-meat was to pass into the hands
+of William, the only son, and William&#8217;s wife,
+Sarah Ellen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll be so much nicer, mother,--no care
+for you!&#8221; Sarah Ellen had declared.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And so much easier for you, father, too,&#8221;
+William had added. &#8220;It&#8217;s time you rested.
+As for money--of course you&#8217;ll have plenty in
+the savings-bank for clothes and such things. You
+won&#8217;t need much, anyhow,&#8221; he finished,
+&#8220;for you&#8217;ll get your living off the farm
+just as you always have.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So the matter was settled, and the papers were made
+out. There was no one to be considered, after all,
+but themselves, for William was the only living son,
+and there had been no daughters.</p>
+
+<p>For a time it was delightful. Jeremiah and Hester
+Whipple were like children let out of school. They
+told themselves that they were people of leisure now,
+and they forced themselves to lie abed half an hour
+later than usual each day. They spent long hours in
+the attic looking over old treasures, and they loitered
+about the garden and the barn with no fear that it
+might be time to get dinner or to feed the stock.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually, however, there came a change. A new restlessness
+entered their lives, a restlessness that speedily
+became the worst kind of homesickness--the homesickness
+of one who is already at home.</p>
+
+<p>The extra half-hour was spent in bed as before--but
+now Hester lay with one ear listening to make sure
+that Sarah Ellen <i>did</i> let the cat in for
+her early breakfast; and Jeremiah lay with his ear
+listening for the squeak of the barn door which would
+tell him whether William was early or, late that morning.
+There were the same long hours in the attic and the
+garden, too--but in the attic Hester discovered her
+treasured wax wreath (late of the parlor wall); and
+in the garden Jeremiah found more weeds than <i>he</i>
+had ever allowed to grow there, he was sure.</p>
+
+<p>The farm had been in the hands of William and Sarah
+Ellen just six months when the Huntersville Savings
+Bank closed its doors. It was the old story of dishonesty
+and disaster, and when the smoke of Treasurer Hilton&#8217;s
+revolver cleared away there was found to be practically
+nothing for the depositors. Perhaps on no one did
+the blow fall with more staggering force than on Jeremiah
+Whipple.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Hester,&#8221; he moaned, when he found
+himself alone with his wife, &#8220;here I&#8217;m
+seventy-eight years old--an&#8217; no money! What am
+I goin&#8217; ter do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, dear,&#8221; soothed Hester; &#8220;but
+&#8217;t ain&#8217;t as bad for us as &#8217;tis for
+some. We&#8217;ve got the farm, you know; an&#8217;--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We hain&#8217;t got the farm,&#8221; cut in
+her husband sharply. &#8220;William an&#8217; Sarah
+Ellen&#8217;s got it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know, but they--why, they&#8217;re <i>us</i>,
+Jeremiah,&#8221; reminded Hester, trying to keep the
+quaver out of her voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mebbe, Hester, mebbe,&#8221; conceded Jeremiah;
+but he turned and looked out of the window with gloomy
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>There came a letter to the farmhouse soon after this
+from Nathan Banks, a favorite nephew, suggesting that
+&#8220;uncle and aunt&#8221; pay them a little visit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just the thing, father!&#8221; cried William.
+&#8220;Go--it&#8217;ll do you both good!&#8221; And
+after some little talk it was decided that the invitation
+should be accepted.</p>
+
+<p>Nathan Banks lived thirty miles away, but not until
+the night before the Whipples were to start did it
+suddenly occur to Jeremiah that he had now no money
+for railroad tickets. With a heightened color on his
+old cheeks he mentioned the fact to William.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye see, I--I s&#8217;pose I&#8217;ll have ter
+come ter you,&#8221; he apologized. &#8220;Them won&#8217;t
+take us!&#8221; And he looked ruefully at a few coins
+he had pulled from his pocket. &#8220;They&#8217;re
+all the cash I&#8217;ve got left.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William frowned a little and stroked his beard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure enough!&#8221; he muttered. &#8220;I forgot
+the tickets, too, father. &#8217;T is awkward--that
+bank blowing up; isn&#8217;t it? Oh, I&#8217;ll let
+you have it all right, of course, and glad to, only
+it so happens that just now I--er, how much is it,
+anyway?&#8221; he broke off abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I reckon a couple of dollars&#8217;ll
+take us down, an&#8217; more, mebbe,&#8221; stammered
+the old man, &#8220;only, of course, there&#8217;s
+comin&#8217; back, and--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, we don&#8217;t have to reckon on that part
+now,&#8221; interrupted William impatiently, as he
+thrust his hands into his pockets and brought out a
+bill and some change. &#8220;I can send you down some
+more when that time comes. There, here&#8217;s a two;
+if it doesn&#8217;t take it all, what&#8217;s left
+can go toward bringing you back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And he handed out the bill, and dropped the change
+into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, William,&#8221; stammered the old
+man. &#8220;I--I&#8217;m sorry--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that&#8217;s all right,&#8221; cut in William
+cheerfully, with a wave of his two hands. &#8220;Glad
+to do it, father; glad to do it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Whipple stayed some weeks with their
+nephew. But, much as they enjoyed their visit, there
+came a day when home--regardless of weeds that were
+present and wax wreaths that were absent--seemed to
+them the one place in the world; and they would have
+gone there at once had it not been for the railroad
+fares.</p>
+
+<p>William had not sent down any more money, though his
+letters had been kind, and had always spoken of the
+warm welcome that awaited them any time they wished
+to come home.</p>
+
+<p>Toward the end of the fifth week a bright idea came
+to Jeremiah.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll go to Cousin Abby&#8217;s,&#8221;
+he announced gleefully to his wife. &#8220;Nathan
+said last night he&#8217;d drive us over there any
+time. We&#8217;ll go to-morrow, an&#8217; we won&#8217;t
+come back here at all--it&#8217;ll be ten miles nearer
+home there, an&#8217; it won&#8217;t cost us a cent
+ter get there,&#8221; he finished triumphantly. And
+to Cousin Abby&#8217;s they went.</p>
+
+<p>So elated was Jeremiah with the result of his scheming
+that he set his wits to work in good earnest, and
+in less than a week he had formulated an itinerary
+that embraced the homes of two other cousins, an aunt
+of Sarah Ellen&#8217;s, and the niece of a brother-in-law,
+the latter being only three miles from &#8217;his
+own farmhouse--or rather William&#8217;s farmhouse,
+as he corrected himself bitterly. Before another month
+had passed, the round of visits was accomplished,
+and the little old man and the little old woman--having
+been carried to their destination in each case by
+their latest host--finally arrived at the farmhouse
+door. They were weary, penniless, and half-sick from
+being feasted and f&#234;ted at every turn, but they were
+blissfully conscious that of no one had they been
+obliged to beg the price of their journey home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We didn&#8217;t write we were comin&#8217;,&#8221;
+apologized Jeremiah faintly, as he stumbled across
+the threshold and dropped into the nearest chair. &#8220;We
+were goin&#8217; ter write from Keziah&#8217;s, but
+we were so tired we hurried right up an&#8217; come
+home. &#8217;Tis nice ter get here; ain&#8217;t it,
+Hester?&#8221; he finished, settling back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Nice&#8217;!&#8221; cried Hester tremulously,
+tugging at her bonnet strings. &#8220;&#8216;Nice&#8217;
+ain&#8217;t no name for it, Jeremiah. Why, Sarah Ellen,
+seems if I don&#8217;t want to do nothin&#8217; for
+a whole month but set in my own room an&#8217; jest
+look &#8217;round all day!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You poor dear--and that&#8217;s all you shall
+do!&#8221; soothed Sarah Ellen; and Hester sighed,
+content. For so many, many weeks now she had sat upon
+strange chairs and looked out upon an unfamiliar world!</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>It was midwinter when Jeremiah&#8217;s last pair of
+shoes gave out. &#8220;An&#8217; there ain&#8217;t
+a cent ter get any new ones, Hester,&#8221; he exclaimed,
+ruefully eying the ominously thin place in the sole.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, Jeremiah, but there&#8217;s William,&#8221;
+murmured Hester. &#8220;I&#8217;m sure he--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, of course, he&#8217;d give it to me,&#8221;
+cried Jeremiah quickly; &#8220;but--I--I sort of hate
+to ask.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pooh! I wouldn&#8217;t think of that,&#8221;
+declared Hester stoutly, but even as she spoke, she
+tucked her own feet farther under her chair. &#8220;We
+gave them the farm, and they understood they was to
+take care of us, of course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m, yes, I know, I know. I&#8217;ll ask him,&#8221;
+murmured Jeremiah--but he did not ask him until the
+ominously thin place in the sole had become a hole,
+large, round, and unmistakable.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, William,&#8221; he began jocosely, trying
+to steady his shaking voice, &#8220;guess them won&#8217;t
+stand for it much longer!&#8221; And he held up the
+shoe, sole uppermost.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I should say not!&#8221; laughed William;
+then his face changed. &#8220;Oh, and you&#8217;ll
+have to have the money for some new ones, of course.
+By George! It does beat all how I keep forgetting
+about that bank!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, William, I&#8217;m sorry,&#8221; stammered
+the old man miserably.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I can let you have it all right, father,
+and glad to,&#8221; assured William, still frowning.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s only that just at this time I&#8217;m
+a little short, and--&#8221; He stopped abruptly and
+thrust his hands into his pockets. &#8220;Hm-m,&#8221;
+he vouchsafed after a minute. &#8220;Well, I&#8217;ll
+tell you what--I haven&#8217;t got any now, but in
+a day or two I&#8217;ll take you over to the village
+and see what Skinner&#8217;s got that will fit you.
+Oh, we&#8217;ll have some shoes, father, never fear!&#8221;
+he laughed. &#8220;You don&#8217;t suppose I&#8217;m
+going to let my father go barefoot!--eh?&#8221; And
+he laughed again.</p>
+
+<p>Things wore out that winter in the most unaccountable
+fashion--at least those belonging to Jeremiah and
+Hester did, especially undergarments. One by one they
+came to mending, and one by one Hester mended them,
+patch upon patch, until sometimes there was left scarcely
+a thread of the original garment. Once she asked William
+for money to buy new ones, but it happened that William
+was again short, and though the money she had asked
+for came later, Hester did not make that same request
+again.</p>
+
+<p>There were two things that Hester could not patch
+very successfully--her shoes. She fried to patch them
+to be sure, but the coarse thread knotted in her shaking
+old hands, and the bits of leather--cut from still
+older shoes--slipped about and left her poor old thumb
+exposed to the sharp prick of the needle, so that
+she finally gave it up in despair. She tucked her
+feet still farther under her chair these days when
+Jeremiah was near, and she pieced down two of her
+dress skirts so that they might touch the floor all
+round. In spite of all this, however, Jeremiah saw,
+one day--and understood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hester,&#8221; he cried sharply, &#8220;put
+out your foot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Hester did not hear--apparently. She lowered the paper
+she was reading and laughed a little hysterically.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Such a good joke, Jeremiah!&#8221; she quavered.
+&#8220;Just let me read it. A man--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hester, be them the best shoes you&#8217;ve
+got?&#8221; demanded Jeremiah.</p>
+
+<p>And Hester, with a wisdom born of fifty years&#8217;
+experience of that particular tone of voice, dropped
+her paper and her subterfuge, and said gently: &#8220;Yes,
+Jeremiah.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment&#8217;s pause; then Jeremiah sprang
+to his feet, thrust his hands into his pockets, and
+paced the tiny bedroom from end to end.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hester, this thing&#8217;s a-killin&#8217;
+me!&#8221; he blurted out at last. &#8220;Here I&#8217;m
+seventy-eight years old--an&#8217; I hain&#8217;t got
+money enough ter buy my wife a pair of shoes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But the farm, Jeremiah--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I tell ye the farm ain&#8217;t mine,&#8221;
+cut in Jeremiah savagely. &#8220;Look a-here, Hester,
+how do you s&#8217;pose it feels to a man who&#8217;s
+paid his own way since he was a boy, bought a farm
+with his own money an&#8217; run it, brought up his
+boys an&#8217; edyercated &#8217;em--how do ye s&#8217;pose
+it feels fur that man ter go ter his own son an&#8217;
+say: &#8217;Please, sir, can&#8217;t I have a nickel
+ter buy me a pair o&#8217; shoestrings?&#8217; How
+do ye s&#8217;pose it feels? I tell ye, Hester, I
+can&#8217;t stand it--I jest can&#8217;t! I&#8217;m
+goin&#8217; ter work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jere-mi-ah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I am,&#8221; repeated the old man doggedly.
+&#8220;You&#8217;re goin&#8217; ter have some shoes,
+an&#8217; I&#8217;m goin&#8217; ter earn &#8217;em.
+See if I don&#8217;t!&#8221; And he squared his shoulders,
+and straightened his bent back as if already he felt
+the weight of a welcome burden.</p>
+
+<p>Spring came, and with it long sunny days and the smell
+of green things growing. Jeremiah began to be absent
+day after day from the farmhouse. The few tasks that
+he performed each morning were soon finished, and
+after that he disappeared, not to return until night.
+William wondered a little, but said nothing. Other
+and more important matters filled his mind.</p>
+
+<p>Only Hester noticed that the old man&#8217;s step
+grew more languid and his eye more dull; and only
+Hester knew that at night he was sometimes too tired
+to sleep--that he could not &#8220;seem ter hit the
+bed,&#8221; as he expressed it.</p>
+
+<p>It was at about this time that Hester began to make
+frequent visits to the half-dozen farmhouses in the
+settlement about them. She began to be wonderfully
+busy these days, too, knitting socks and mittens, or
+piecing up quilts. Sarah Ellen asked her sometimes
+what she was doing, but Hester&#8217;s answers were
+always so cheery and bright that Sarah Ellen did not
+realize that the point was always evaded and the subject
+changed.</p>
+
+<p>It was in May that the inevitable happened. William
+came home one day to find an excited, weeping wife
+who hurried him into the seclusion of their own room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;William, William,&#8221; she moaned, &#8220;what
+shall we do? It&#8217;s father and mother; they&#8217;ve--oh,
+William, how can I tell you!&#8221; and she covered
+her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>William paled under his coat of tan. He gripped his
+wife&#8217;s arm with fingers that hurt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it--what&#8217;s happened?&#8221; he
+asked hoarsely. &#8220;They aren&#8217;t hurt or--dead?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; choked Sarah Ellen. &#8220;I
+didn&#8217;t mean to frighten you. They&#8217;re all
+right that way. They--they&#8217;ve <i>gone to work</i>!
+William, what <i>shall</i> we do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again William Whipple gripped his wife&#8217;s arm
+with fingers that hurt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sarah Ellen, quit that crying, for Heaven&#8217;s
+sake! What does this mean? What are you talking about?&#8221;
+he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Sarah Ellen sopped her eyes with her handkerchief
+and lifted her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was this morning. I was over to Maria Weston&#8217;s,&#8221;
+she explained brokenly. &#8220;Maria dropped something
+about a quilt mother was piecing for her, and when
+I asked her what in the world she meant, she looked
+queer, and said she supposed I knew. Then she tried
+to change the subject; but I wouldn&#8217;t let her,
+and finally I got the whole story out of her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes, go on,&#8221; urged William impatiently,
+as Sarah Ellen paused for breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It seems mother came to her a while ago, and--and
+she went to others, too. She asked if there wasn&#8217;t
+some knitting or patchwork she could do for them.
+She said she--she wanted to earn some money.&#8221;
+Sarah Ellen&#8217;s voice broke over the last word,
+and William muttered something under his breath. &#8220;She
+said they&#8217;d lost all they had in the bank,&#8221;
+went on Sarah Ellen hurriedly, &#8220;and that they
+didn&#8217;t like to ask you for money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I always let them have--&#8221; began
+William defensively; then he stopped short, a slow
+red staining his face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know you have,&#8221; interposed Sarah
+Ellen eagerly; &#8220;and I said so to Maria. But
+mother had already told her that, it seems. She said
+that mother said you were always glad to give it to
+them when they asked for it, but that it hurt father&#8217;s
+pride to beg, so he&#8217;d gone to work to earn some
+of his own.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Father!&#8221; exclaimed William. &#8220;But
+I thought you said &#8217;twas mother. Surely father
+isn&#8217;t knitting socks and mittens, is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; cried Sarah Ellen. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+coming to that as fast as I can. You see, &#8217;twas
+father who went to work first. He&#8217;s been doing
+all sorts of little odd jobs, even to staying with
+the Snow children while their folks went to town,
+and spading up Nancy Howe&#8217;s flower beds for her.
+But it&#8217;s been wearing on him, and he was getting
+all tired out. Only think of it, William--<i>working
+out--father and mother!</i> I just can&#8217;t ever
+hold up my head again! What <i>shall</i> we do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do? Why, we&#8217;ll stop it, of course,&#8221;
+declared William savagely. &#8220;I guess I can support
+my own father and mother without their working for
+a living!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it&#8217;s money, William, that they want.
+Don&#8217;t you see?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, we&#8217;ll give them money, then. I
+always have, anyway,--when they asked for it,&#8221;
+finished William in an aggrieved voice.</p>
+
+<p>Sarah Ellen shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It won&#8217;t do,&#8221; she sighed. &#8220;It
+might have done once--but not now. They&#8217;ve got
+to the point where they just can&#8217;t accept money
+doled out to them like that. Why, just think, &#8217;t
+was all theirs once!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, &#8217;tis now--in a way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know--but we haven&#8217;t acted as if it
+were. I can see that now, when it&#8217;s too late.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll give it back, then,&#8221; cried
+William, his face clearing; &#8220;the whole blamed
+farm!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sarah Ellen frowned. She shook her head slowly, then
+paused, a dawning question in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t suppose--William, could we?&#8221;
+she cried with sudden eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, we can try mighty hard,&#8221; retorted
+the man grimly. &#8220;But we&#8217;ve got to go easy,
+Sarah Ellen,--no bungling. We&#8217;ve got to spin
+some sort of a yarn that won&#8217;t break, nor have
+any weak places; and of course, as far as the real
+work of the farm is concerned, we&#8217;ll still do
+the most of it. But the place&#8217;ll be theirs.
+See?--theirs! <i>Working out</i>--good Heavens!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It must have been a week later that Jeremiah burst
+into his wife&#8217;s room. Hester sat by the window,
+bending over numberless scraps of blue, red, and pink
+calico.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Put it up, put it up, Hester,&#8221; he panted
+joyously. &#8220;Ye hain&#8217;t got to sew no more,
+an&#8217; I hain&#8217;t neither. The farm is ours!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Jeremiah, what--how--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, Hester, no more than you
+do,&#8221; laughed Jeremiah happily; &#8220;only William
+says he&#8217;s tired of runnin&#8217; things all alone,
+an&#8217; he wants me to take hold again. They&#8217;re
+goin&#8217; ter make out the papers right away; an&#8217;
+say, Hester,&#8221;--the bent shoulders drew themselves
+erect with an air of pride,--&#8220;I thought mebbe
+this afternoon we&#8217;d drive over ter Huntersville
+an&#8217; get some shoes for you. Ye know you&#8217;re
+always needin&#8217; shoes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_07"></a>The Long Road</h1>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jane!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, father.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is the house locked up?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are ye sure, now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes, dear; I just did it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, won&#8217;t ye see?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I have seen, father.&#8221; Jane did not
+often make so many words about this little matter,
+but she was particularly tired to-night.</p>
+
+<p>The old man fell back wearily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seems ter me, Jane, ye might jest see,&#8221;
+he fretted. &#8220;&#8217;T ain&#8217;t much I&#8217;m
+askin&#8217; of ye, an&#8217; ye know them spoons--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes, dear, I&#8217;ll go,&#8221; interrupted
+the woman hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And, Jane!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221; The woman turned and waited. She
+knew quite well what was coming, but it was the very
+exquisiteness of her patient care that allowed her
+to give no sign that she had waited in that same spot
+to hear those same words every night for long years
+past.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; ye might count &#8217;em--them spoons,&#8221;
+said the old man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; the forks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; them photygraph pictures in the parlor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right, father.&#8221; The woman turned
+away. Her step was slow, but confident--the last word
+had been said.</p>
+
+<p>To Jane Pendergast her father had gone with the going
+of his keen, clear mind, twenty years before. This
+fretful, childish, exacting old man that pottered
+about the house all day was but the shell that had
+held the kernel--the casket that had held the jewel.
+But because of what it had held, Jane guarded it tenderly,
+laying at its feet her life as a willing sacrifice.</p>
+
+<p>There had been four children: Edgar, the eldest; Jane,
+Mary, and Fred. Edgar had left home early, and was
+a successful business man in Boston. Mary had married
+a wealthy lawyer of the same city; and Fred had opened
+a real estate office in a thriving Southern town.</p>
+
+<p>Jane had stayed at home. There had been a time, it
+is true, when she had planned to go away to school;
+but the death of Mrs. Pendergast left no one at home
+to care for Mary and Fred, so Jane had abandoned the
+idea. Later, after Mary had married and Fred had gone
+away, there was still her father to be cared for,
+though at this time he was well and strong.</p>
+
+<p>Jane had passed her thirty-fifth birthday, when she
+became palpitatingly aware of a pair of blue-gray
+eyes, and a determined, smooth-shaven chin belonging
+to the recently arrived principal of the village school.
+In spite of her stern admonition to herself to remember
+her years and not quite lose her head, she was fast
+drifting into a rosy dream of romance that was all
+the more enthralling because so belated, when the summons
+of a small boy brought her sharply back to the realities.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s yer father, miss. They want ye ter
+come,&#8221; he panted. &#8220;Somethin&#8217; has
+took him. He&#8217;s in Mackey&#8217;s drug store,
+talkin&#8217; awful queer. He ain&#8217;t his self,
+ye know. They thought maybe you could--do somethin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jane went at once--but she could do nothing except
+to lead gently home the chattering, shifting-eyed
+thing that had once been her father. One after another
+the village physicians shook their heads--they could
+do nothing. Skilled alienists from the city--they,
+too, could do nothing. There was nothing that could
+be done, they said, except to care for him as one
+would for a child. He would live years, probably. His
+constitution was wonderfully good. He would not be
+violent--just foolish and childish, with perhaps a
+growing irritability as the years passed and his physical
+strength failed.</p>
+
+<p>Mary and Edgar had come home at once. Mary had stayed
+two days and Edgar five hours. They were shocked and
+dismayed at their father&#8217;s condition. So overwhelmed
+with grief were they, indeed, that they fled from the
+room almost immediately upon seeing him, and Edgar
+took the first train out of town.</p>
+
+<p>Mary, shiveringly, crept from room to room, trying
+to find a place where the cackling laugh and the fretful
+voice would not reach her. But the old man, like a
+child with a new toy, was pleased at his daughter&#8217;s
+arrival, and followed her about the house with unfailing
+persistence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Mary, he won&#8217;t hurt you. Why do
+you run?&#8221; remonstrated Jane.</p>
+
+<p>Mary shuddered and covered her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jane, Jane, how can you take it so calmly!&#8221;
+she moaned. &#8220;How can you bear it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment&#8217;s pause. A curious expression
+had come to Jane&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some one--has to,&#8221; she said at last,
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Jane went down to the village the next afternoon,
+leaving her sister in charge at home. When she returned,
+an hour later, Mary met her at the gate, crying and
+wringing her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jane, Jane, I thought you would never come!
+I can&#8217;t do a thing with him. He insists that
+he isn&#8217;t at home, and that he wants to go there.
+I told him, over and over again, that he <i>was</i>
+at home already, but it didn&#8217;t do a bit of good.
+I&#8217;ve had a perfectly awful time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know. Where is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the kitchen. I--I tied him. He just would
+go, and I couldn&#8217;t hold him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, <i>Mary!</i>&#8221; And Jane fairly
+flew up the walk to the kitchen door. A minute later
+she appeared, leading an old man, who was whimpering
+pitifully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Home, Jane. I want ter go home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, dear, I know. We&#8217;ll go.&#8221; And
+Mary watched with wondering eyes while the two walked
+down the path, through the gate and across the street
+to the next corner, then slowly crossed again and came
+back through the familiar doorway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Home!&#8221; chuckled the old man gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve come home!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mary went back to Boston the next day. She said it
+was fortunate, indeed, that Jane&#8217;s nerves were
+so strong. For her part, she could not have stood
+it another day.</p>
+
+<p>The days slipped into weeks, and the weeks into months.
+Jane took the entire care of her father, except that
+she hired a woman to come in for an hour or two once
+or twice a week, when she herself was obliged to leave
+the house.</p>
+
+<p>The owner of the blue-gray eyes did not belie the
+determination of his chin, but made a valiant effort
+to establish himself on the basis of the old intimacy;
+but Miss Pendergast held herself sternly aloof, and
+refused to listen to him. In a year he had left town--but
+it was not his fault that he was obliged to go away
+alone, as Jane Pendergast well knew.</p>
+
+<p>One by one the years passed. Twenty had gone by now
+since the small boy came with his fateful summons
+that June day. Jane was fifty-five now, a thin-faced,
+stoop-shouldered, tired woman--but a woman to whom
+release from this constant care was soon to come,
+for she was not yet fifty-six when her father died.</p>
+
+<p>All the children and some of the grandchildren came
+to the funeral. In the evening the family, with the
+exception of Jane, gathered in the sitting-room and
+discussed the future, while upstairs the woman whose
+fate was most concerned laid herself wearily in bed
+with almost a pang that she need not now first be
+doubly sure that doors were locked and spoons were
+counted.</p>
+
+<p>In the sitting-room below, discussion waxed warm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what shall we do with her?&#8221; demanded
+Mary. &#8220;I had meant to give her my share of the
+property,&#8221; she added with an air of great generosity,
+&#8220;but it seems there&#8217;s nothing to give.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, there&#8217;s nothing to give,&#8221; returned
+Edgar. &#8220;The house had to be mortgaged long ago
+to pay their living expenses, and it will have to be
+sold.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But she&#8217;s got to live somewhere!&#8221;
+Mary&#8217;s voice was fretful, questioning.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment there was silence; then Edgar stirrad
+in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, why can&#8217;t she go to you, Mary?&#8221;
+he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Me!&#8221; Mary almost screamed the word.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Edgar!--when you know how much I have
+on my hands with my great house and all my social
+duties, to say nothing of Belle&#8217;s engagement!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, maybe Jane could help.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Help! How. pray?--to entertain my guests?&#8221;
+And even Edgar smiled as he thought of Jane, in her
+five-year-old bonnet and her ten-year-old black gown,
+standing in the receiving line at an exclusive Commonwealth
+Avenue reception.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, but--&#8221; Edgar paused impotently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you take her?&#8221; It was
+Mary who made the suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I? Oh, but I--&#8221; Edgar stopped and glanced
+uneasily at his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, of course, if it&#8217;s <i>necessary</i>,&#8221;
+murmured Mrs. Edgar, with a resigned air. &#8220;I
+should certainly never wish it said that I refused
+a home to any of my husband&#8217;s poor relations.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, good Heavens! Let her come to us,&#8221;
+cut in Fred sharply. &#8220;I reckon we can take care
+of our &#8216;poor relations&#8217; for a spell yet;
+eh, Sally?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, sure we can,&#8221; retorted. Fred&#8217;s
+wife, in her soft Southern drawl. &#8220;We&#8217;ll
+be right glad to take her, I reckon.&#8221; And there
+the matter ended.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>Jane Pendergast had been South two months, when one
+day Edgar received a letter from his brother Fred.</p>
+
+<p>Jane&#8217;s going North [wrote Fred]. Sally says
+she can&#8217;t have her in the house another week.
+&#8217;Course, we don&#8217;t want to tell Jane exactly
+that-- but we&#8217;ve fixed it so she&#8217;s going
+to leave.</p>
+
+<p>I&#8217;m sorry if this move causes you folks any
+trouble, but there just wasn&#8217;t any other way
+out of it. You see, Sally is Southern and easy-going,
+and I suppose not over-particular in the eyes of you
+stiff Northerners. I don&#8217;t mind things, either,
+and I suppose I&#8217;m easy, too.</p>
+
+<p>Well, great Scott!--Jane hadn&#8217;t been down here
+five minutes before she began to &#8220;slick up,&#8221;
+as she called it--and she&#8217;s been &#8220;slickin&#8217;
+up&#8221; ever since. Sally always left things round
+handy, and so&#8217;ve the children; but since Jane
+came, we haven&#8217;t been able to find a thing when
+we wanted it. All our boots and shoes are put away,
+turned toes out, and all our hats and coats are snatched
+up and hung on pegs the minute we toss them off.</p>
+
+<p>Maybe this don&#8217;t seem much to you, but it&#8217;s
+lots to us. Anyhow, Jane&#8217;s going North. She
+says she&#8217;s going to visit Edgar a little while,
+and I told her I&#8217;d write and tell you she&#8217;s
+coming. She&#8217;ll be there about the 2Oth. Will
+wire you what train.</p>
+
+<p>Your affectionate brother</p>
+
+<p style="font-variant: small-caps; text-align: right">Fred</p>
+
+<p>As gently as possible Edgar broke to his wife the
+news of the prospective guest. Julia Pendergast was
+a good woman. At least she often said that she was,
+adding, at the same time, that she never knowingly
+refused to do her duty. She said the same thing now
+to her husband, and she immediately made some very
+elaborate and very apparent changes in her home and
+in her plans, all with an eye to the expected guest.
+At four o&#8217;clock Wednesday afternoon Edgar met
+his sister at the station.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t see as you&#8217;ve changed
+much,&#8221; he said kindly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Haven&#8217;t I? Why, seems as if I must look
+changed a lot,&#8221; chirruped Jane. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+so rested, and Fred and Sally were so good to me! Why,
+they tried not to have me do a thing--and I didn&#8217;t
+do much, only a little puttering around just to help
+out with the work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m,&#8221; murmured Edgar. &#8220;Well, I&#8217;m
+glad to see you&#8217;re--rested.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Julia met them in the hall of the beautiful Brookline
+residence. Lined up with her were the four younger
+children, who lived at home. They made an imposing
+array, and Jane was visibly affected.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, it&#8217;s so good of you--to meet me--like
+this!&#8221; she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, we wished to, I&#8217;m sure,&#8221; returned
+Mrs. Pendergast, with a half-stifled sigh. &#8220;I
+hope I understand my duty to my guest and my sister-in-law
+sufficiently to know what is her due. I did not allow
+anything--not even my committee meeting to-day--to
+interfere with this call for duty at home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jane fell back. All the glow fled from her face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, then you did stay at home--and for me!
+I&#8217;m so sorry,&#8221; she stammered.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Pendergast raised a deprecatory hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say no more. It was nothing. Now come, let
+me show you to your room. I&#8217;ve given you Ella&#8217;s
+room, and put Ella in Tom&#8217;s, and Tom in Bert&#8217;s,
+and moved Bert upstairs to the little room over--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, don&#8217;t!&#8221; interrupted Jane, in
+quick distress. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want to put people
+out so! Let me go upstairs.&#8221;  Mrs. Pendergast
+frowned and sighed. She had the air of one whose kindest
+efforts are misunderstood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear Jane, I am sorry, but I shall have
+to ask you to be as satisfied as you can be with the
+arrangements I am able to make for you. You see, even
+though this house is large, I am, in a way, cramped
+for room. I always have to keep three guest-rooms
+ready for immediate occupancy. I am a member of four
+clubs and six charitable and religious organizations,
+besides the church, and there are always ministers
+and delegates whom I feel it my duty to entertain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But that is all the more reason why I should
+go upstairs, and not put all those children out of
+their rooms,&#8221; begged Jane.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Pendergast shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It does them good,&#8221; she said decidely,
+&#8220;to learn to be self-sacrificing. That is a
+virtue we all must learn to practice.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jane flushed again; then she turned abruptly. &#8220;Julia,
+did you want me to--to come to see you?&#8221; she
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, certainly; what a question!&#8221; returned
+Mrs. Pendergast, in a properly shocked tone of voice.
+&#8220;As if I could do otherwise than to want my
+husband&#8217;s sister to come to us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jane smiled faintly, but her eyes were troubled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you; I&#8217;m glad you feel--that way.
+You see, at Fred&#8217;s--I wouldn&#8217;t have them
+know it for the world, they were <i>so</i> good
+to me--but I thought, lately, that maybe they didn&#8217;t
+want--But it wasn&#8217;t so, of course. It couldn&#8217;t
+have been. I--I ought not even to think it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m; no,&#8221; returned Mrs. Pendergast,
+with noncommittal briefness.</p>
+
+<p>Not six weeks later Mary, in her beautiful Commonwealth
+Avenue home, received a call from a little, thin-faced
+woman, who curtsied to the butler and asked him to
+please tell her sister that she wished to speak to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Mary looked worried and not over-cordial when she
+rustled into the room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Jane, did you find your way here all alone?&#8221;
+she cried.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes--no--well, I asked a man at the last; but,
+you know, I&#8217;ve been here twice before with the
+others.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know,&#8221; said Mary.</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause; then Jane cleared her throat timidly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary, I--I&#8217;ve been thinking. You see,
+just as soon as I&#8217;m strong enough, I--I&#8217;m
+going to take care of myself, and then I won&#8217;t
+be a burden to--to anybody.&#8221; Jane was talking
+very fast now. Her words came tremulously between
+short, broken breaths. &#8220;But until I get well
+enough to earn money, I can&#8217;t, you see. And
+I&#8217;ve been thinking;--would you be willing to
+take me until--until I can? I&#8217;m lots better,
+already, and getting stronger every day. It wouldn&#8217;t
+be for--long.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, of course, Jane!&#8221; Mary spoke cheerfully,
+and in a tone a little higher than her ordinary voice.
+&#8220;I should have asked you to come here before,
+only I feared you wouldn&#8217;t be happy here--such
+a different life for you, and so much noise and confusion
+with Belle&#8217;s wedding coming on, and all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jane gave her a grateful glance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, of course,--you&#8217;d think that,--and
+it isn&#8217;t that I&#8217;m finding fault with Julia
+and Edgar. I couldn&#8217;t do that--they&#8217;re
+so good to me. But, you see, I put them out so. Now,
+there&#8217;s my room, for one thing. &#8217;T was
+Ella&#8217;s, and Ella has to keep running in for things
+she&#8217;s left, and she says it&#8217;s the same
+with the others. You see, I&#8217;ve got Ella&#8217;s
+room, and Ella&#8217;s got Tom&#8217;s, and Tom&#8217;s
+got Bert&#8217;s. It&#8217;s a regular &#8217;house
+that Jack built&#8217;--and I&#8217;m the&#8217;Jack&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; laughed Mary constrainedly. &#8220;And
+you want to come here? Well, you shall. You--you may
+come a week from Saturday,&#8221; she added, after
+a pause. &#8220;I have a reception and a dinner here
+the first of the week, and --you&#8217;d better stay
+away until after that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, thank you,&#8221; sighed Jane. &#8220;You
+are so good. I shall tell Julia that I&#8217;m invited
+here, so she won&#8217;t think I&#8217;m dissatisfied.
+They&#8217;re so good to me--I wouldn&#8217;t want
+to hurt their feelings!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course not,&#8221; murmured Mary.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>The big, fat tire of the touring-car popped like a
+pistol shot directly in front of the large white house
+with the green blinds.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is the time we&#8217;re in luck, Belle,&#8221;
+laughed the good-natured young fellow who had been
+driving the car. &#8220;Do you see that big piazza
+just aching for you to come and sit on it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are we really stalled, Will?&#8221; asked the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Looks like it--for a while. I&#8217;ll have
+to telephone Peters to bring down a tire. Of course,
+to-day is the day we <i>didn&#8217;t</i> take
+it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Some minutes later the girl found herself on the cool
+piazza, in charge of a wonderfully hospitable old
+lady, while down the road the good-looking young
+fellow was making long strides toward the next house
+and a telephone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are staying at the Lindsays&#8217;, in North
+Belton,&#8221; explained the girl, when he was gone,
+&#8220;and we came out for a little spin before dinner.
+Isn&#8217;t this Belton? I have an aunt who used to
+live here somewhere--Aunt Jane Pendergast&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old lady sat suddenly erect in her chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear,&#8221; she cried, &#8220;you don&#8217;t
+mean to say that you&#8217;re Jane Pendergast&#8217;s
+niece! Now, that is queer! Why, this was her very house--we
+bought it when the old gentleman died last year. But,
+come, we&#8217;ll go inside. You&#8217;ll want to
+see everything, of course!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was some time before the young man came back from
+telephoning, and it was longer still before Peters
+came with the new tire, and helped get the touring-car
+ready for the road. The girl was very quiet when they
+finally left the house, and there was a troubled look
+deep in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Belle, what&#8217;s the matter?&#8221;
+asked the young fellow concernedly, as he slackened
+speed in the cool twilight of the woods, some minutes
+later. &#8220;What&#8217;s troubling you, dear?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will&#8221;--the girl&#8217;s voice shook--&#8220;Will,
+that was Aunt Jane&#8217;s house. That old lady--told
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aunt Jane?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes--the little gray-haired woman that
+came to live with us two months ago. You know her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, y-yes; I think I&#8217;ve--seen her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The girl winced, as from a blow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will, don&#8217;t! I can&#8217;t bear it,&#8221;
+she choked. &#8220;It only shows how we&#8217;ve treated
+her--how little we&#8217;ve made of her, when we ought
+to have done everything--everything to make her happy.
+Instead of that, we were brutes--all of us!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Belle!&#8221;--the tone was an indignant protest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But we were--listen! She lived in that house
+all her life till last year. She never went anywhere
+or did anything. For twenty years she lived with an
+old man who had lost his mind, and she tended him like
+a baby--only a baby grows older all the time and more
+interesting, while he--oh, Will, it was awful! That
+old lady--told me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By Jove!&#8221; exclaimed the young fellow,
+under his breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And there were other things,&#8221; hurried
+on the girl, tremulously. &#8220;Some way, I never
+thought of Aunt Jane only as old and timid; but she
+was young like us, once. She wanted to go away to
+school--but she couldn&#8217;t go; and there was some
+one who--loved her--once--later, and she sent him--away.
+That was after--after grandfather lost his mind. Mother
+and Uncle Edgar and Uncle Fred--they all went away
+and lived their own lives, but she stayed on. Then
+last year grandfather died.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The girl paused and moistened her lips. The man did
+not speak. His eyes were on the road ahead of the
+slow-moving car.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I heard to-day--how--how proud and happy Aunt
+Jane was that Uncle Fred had asked her to come and
+live with him,&#8221; resumed the girl, after a minute.
+&#8220;That old lady told me how Aunt Jane talked and
+talked about it before she went away, and how she
+said that all her life she had taken care of others,
+and it would be so good to feel that now some one was
+going to look out for her, though, of course, she should
+do everything she could to help, and she hoped she
+could still be of some use.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, she has been, hasn&#8217;t she?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The girl shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the worst of it. We haven&#8217;t
+made her think she was. She stayed at Uncle Fred&#8217;s
+for a while, and then he sent her to Uncle Edgar&#8217;s.
+Something must have been wrong there, for she asked
+mother two months ago if she might come to us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m sure you&#8217;ve been--good
+to her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But we haven&#8217;t!&#8221; cried the girl.
+&#8220;Mother meant all right, I know, but she didn&#8217;t
+think. And I&#8217;ve been--horrid. Aunt Jane tried
+to show her interest in my wedding plans, but I only
+laughed at her and said she wouldn&#8217;t understand.
+We&#8217;ve pushed her aside, always,--we&#8217;ve
+never made her one of us; and--we&#8217;ve always
+made her feel her dependence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you&#8217;ll do differently now, dear,--now
+that you understand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the girl shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We can&#8217;t,&#8221; she moaned. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+too late. I had a letter from mother last night. Aunt
+Jane&#8217;s sick--awfully sick. Mother said I might
+expect to--to hear of the end any day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But there&#8217;s some time left--a little!&#8221;--his
+voice broke and choked into silence. Suddenly he made
+a quick movement, and the car beneath them leaped
+forward like a charger that feels the prick of the
+spur.</p>
+
+<p>The girl gave a frightened cry, then a tremulous little
+sob of joy. The man had cried in her ear, in response
+to her questioning eyes:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re--going--to--Aunt Jane!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And to them both, at the moment, there seemed to be
+waiting at the end of the road a little bent old woman,
+into whose wistful eyes they were to bring the light
+of joy and peace.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_08"></a>A Couple of Capitalists</h1>
+
+<p>On the top of the hill stood the big brick house--a
+mansion, compared to the other houses of the New England
+village. At the foot of the hill nestled the tiny
+brown farmhouse, half buried in lilacs, climbing roses,
+and hollyhocks.</p>
+
+<p>Years ago, when Reuben had first brought Emily to
+that little brown cottage, he had said to her, ruefully:
+&#8220;Sweetheart, &#8217;tain&#8217;t much of a place,
+I know, but we&#8217;ll save and save, every cent we
+can get, an&#8217; by an&#8217; by we&#8217;ll go
+up to live in the big house on the hill!&#8221; And
+he kissed so tenderly the pretty little woman he had
+married only that morning that she smiled brightly
+and declared that the small brown house was the very
+nicest place in the world.</p>
+
+<p>But, as time passed, the &#8220;big house&#8221; came
+to be the Mecca of all their hopes, and penny by penny
+the savings grew. It was slow work, though, and to
+hearts less courageous the thing would have seemed
+an impossibility. No luxuries--and scarcely the bare
+necessities of life-- came to the little house under
+the hill, but every month a tiny sum found its way
+into the savings bank. Fortunately, air and sunshine
+were cheap, and, if inside the house there was lack
+of beauty and cheer, outside there was a riotous wealth
+of color and bloom--the flowers under Emily&#8217;s
+loving care flourished and multiplied.</p>
+
+<p>The few gowns in the modest trousseau had been turned
+inside out and upside down, only to be dyed and turned
+and twisted all over again. But what was a dyed gown,
+when one had all that money in the bank and the big
+house on the hill in prospect! Reuben&#8217;s best
+suit grew rusty and seedy, but the man patiently,
+even gleefully, wore it as long as it would hang together;
+and when the time came that new garments must be bought
+for both husband and wife, only the cheapest and flimsiest
+of material was purchased--but the money in the bank
+grew.</p>
+
+<p>Reuben never smoked. While other men used the fragrant
+weed to calm their weary brains and bodies, Reuben--ate
+peanuts. It had been a curious passion of his, from
+the time when as a boy he was first presented with
+a penny for his very own, to spend all his spare cash
+on this peculiar luxury; and the slow munching of
+this plebeian delicacy had the same soothing effect
+on him that a good cigar or an old clay pipe had upon
+his brother-man. But from the day of his marriage all
+this was changed; the dimes and the nickels bought
+no more peanuts, but went to swell the common fund.</p>
+
+<p>It is doubtful if even this heroic economy would have
+accomplished the desired end had not a certain railroad
+company cast envious eyes upon the level valley and
+forthwith sent long arms of steel bearing a puffing
+engine up through the quiet village. A large tract
+of waste land belonging to Reuben Gray suddenly became
+surprisingly valuable, and a sum that trebled twice
+over the scanty savings of years grew all in a night.</p>
+
+<p>One crisp October day, Mr. and Mrs. Reuben Gray awoke
+to the fact that they were a little under sixty years
+of age, and in possession of more than the big sum
+of money necessary to enable them to carry out the
+dreams of their youth. They began joyous preparations
+at once.</p>
+
+<p>The big brick house at the top of the hill had changed
+hands twice during the last forty years, and the present
+owner expressed himself as nothing loath to part,
+not only with the house itself, but with many of its
+furnishings; and before the winter snow fell the little
+brown cottage was sold to a thrifty young couple from
+the neighboring village, and the Grays took up their
+abode in their new home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, Em&#8217;ly, this is livin&#8217;, now,
+ain&#8217;t it?&#8221; said Reuben, as he carefully
+let himself down into the depths of a velvet-covered
+chair in the great parlor. &#8220;My! ain&#8217;t
+this nice!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just perfectly lovely,&#8221; quavered the
+thin voice of his wife, as she threw a surreptitious
+glance at Reuben&#8217;s shoes to see if they were
+quite clean enough for such sacred precincts.</p>
+
+<p>It was their first evening in their new abode, and
+they were a little weary, for they had spent the entire
+day in exploring every room, peering into every closet,
+and trying every chair that the establishment contained.
+It was still quite early when they trudged anxiously
+about the house, intent on fastening the numerous
+doors and windows.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear me!&#8221; exclaimed the little woman
+nervously, &#8220;I&#8217;m &#8217;most afraid to go
+to bed, Reuben, for fear some one will break in an&#8217;
+steal all these nice things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, you can sit up if you want to,&#8221;
+replied her husband dryly, &#8220;but I shall go to
+bed. Most of these things have been here nigh on to
+twenty years, an&#8217; I guess they&#8217;ll last
+the night through.&#8221; And he marched solemnly
+upstairs to the big east chamber, meekly followed by
+his wife.</p>
+
+<p>It was the next morning when Mrs. Gray was washing
+the breakfast dishes that her husband came in at the
+kitchen door and stood looking thoughtfully at her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, Emily,&#8221; said he, &#8220;you&#8217;d
+oughter have a hired girl. &#8217;T ain&#8217;t your
+place to be doin&#8217; work like this now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Gray gasped--half terrified, half pleased--and
+shook her head; but her husband was not to be silenced.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, you had--an&#8217; you&#8217;ve got to,
+too. An&#8217; you must buy some new clothes--lots
+of &#8217;em! Why, Em&#8217;ly, we&#8217;ve got heaps
+of money now, an&#8217; we hadn&#8217;t oughter wear
+such lookin&#8217; things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Emily nodded; she had thought of this before. And
+the hired-girl hint must have found a warm spot in
+her heart in which to grow, for that very afternoon
+she sallied forth, intent on a visit to her counselor
+on all occasions--the doctor&#8217;s wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, Mis&#8217; Steele, I don&#8217;t know
+what to do. Reuben says I ought to have a hired girl;
+but I hain&#8217;t no more idea where to get one than
+anything, an&#8217; I don&#8217;t know&#8217;s I want
+one, if I did.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. Gray sat back in her chair and rocked violently
+to and fro, eying her hostess with the evident consciousness
+of having presented a poser. That resourceful woman,
+however, was far from being nonplussed; she beamed
+upon her visitor with a joyful smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just the thing, my dear Mrs. Gray! You know
+I am to go South with May for the winter. The house
+will be closed and the doctor at the hotel. I had
+just been wondering what to do with Nancy, for I want
+her again in the spring. Now, you can have her until
+then, and by that time you will know how you like
+the idea of keeping a girl. She is a perfect treasure,
+capable of carrying along the entire work of the household,
+only&#8221;--and Mrs. Steele paused long enough to
+look doubtfully at her friend--&#8220;she is a little
+independent, and won&#8217;t stand much interference.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen minutes later Mrs. Gray departed, well pleased
+though withal a little frightened. She spent the rest
+of the afternoon in trying to decide between a black
+alpaca and a green cashmere dress.</p>
+
+<p>That night Reuben brought home a large bag of peanuts
+and put them down in triumph on the kitchen table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; he announced in high glee, &#8220;I&#8217;m
+goin&#8217; to have a bang-up good time!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Reuben,&#8221; remonstrated his wife gently,
+&#8220;you can&#8217;t eat them things-- you hain&#8217;t
+got no teeth to chew &#8217;em with!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The man&#8217;s lower jaw dropped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m a-goin&#8217; to try it, anyhow,&#8221;
+he insisted. And try he did; but the way his poor
+old stomach rebelled against the half-masticated things
+effectually prevented a repetition of the feast.</p>
+
+<p>Early on Monday morning Nancy appeared. Mrs. Gray
+assumed a brave aspect, but she quaked in her shoes
+as she showed the big strapping girl to her room.
+Five minutes later Nancy came into the kitchen to find
+Mrs. Gray bending over an obstinate coal fire in the
+range--with neither coal nor range was the little
+woman in the least familiar.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, now,&#8221; said Nancy briskly, &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+fix that. You just tell me what you want for dinner,
+and I can find the things myself.&#8221; And she attacked
+the stove with such a clatter and din that Mrs. Gray
+retreated in terror, murmuring &#8220;ham and eggs,
+if you please,&#8221; as she fled through the door.
+Once in the parlor, she seated herself in the middle
+of the room and thought how nice it was not to get
+dinner; but she jumped nervously at every sound from
+the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>On Tuesday she had mastered her fear sufficiently
+to go into the kitchen and make a cottage cheese.
+She did not notice the unfavorable glances of her
+maid-of-all-work. Wednesday morning she spent happily
+puttering over &#8220;doing up&#8221; some handkerchiefs,
+and she wondered why Nancy kept banging the oven door
+so often. Thursday she made a special kind of pie that
+Reuben liked, and remarked pointedly to Nancy that
+she herself never washed dishes without wearing an
+extra apron; furthermore, she always placed the pans
+the other way in the sink. Friday she rearranged the
+tins on the pantry shelves, that Nancy had so unaccountably
+mussed up. On Saturday the inevitable explosion came:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you please, mum, I&#8217;m willin&#8217;
+to do your work, but seems to me it don&#8217;t make
+no difference to you whether I wear one apron or six,
+or whether I hang my dish-towels on a string or on
+the bars, or whether I wash goblets or kittles first;
+and I ain&#8217;t in the habit of havin&#8217; folks
+spyin&#8217; round on me. If you want me to go, I&#8217;ll
+go; but if I stay, I want to be let alone!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Poor little Mrs. Gray fled to her seat in the parlor,
+and for the rest of that winter she did not dare to
+call her soul her own; but her table was beautifully
+set and served, and her house was as neat as wax.</p>
+
+<p>The weeks passed and Reuben began to be restless.
+One day he came in from the postoffice fairly bubbling
+over with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, Em&#8217;ly, when folks have money they
+travel. Let&#8217;s go somewhere!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Reuben--where?&#8221; quavered his wife,
+dropping into the nearest chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I dunno,&#8221; with cheerful vagueness;
+then, suddenly animated, &#8220;Let&#8217;s go to
+Boston and see the sights!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Reuben, we don&#8217;t know no one there,&#8221;
+ventured his wife doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pooh! What if we don&#8217;t? Hain&#8217;t
+we got money? Can&#8217;t we stay at a hotel? Well,
+I guess we can!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And his overwhelming courage put some semblance of
+confidence into the more timid heart of his wife,
+until by the end of the week she was as eager as he.</p>
+
+<p>Nancy was tremblingly requested to take a two weeks&#8217;
+vacation, and great was the rejoicing when she graciously
+acquiesced.</p>
+
+<p>On a bright February morning the journey began. It
+was not a long one-- four hours only--and the time
+flew by as on wings of the wind. Reuben assumed an
+air of worldly wisdom, quite awe-inspiring to his wife.
+He had visited Boston as a boy, and so had a dim idea
+of what to expect; moreover, he had sold stock and
+produce in the large towns near his home, and on the
+whole felt quite self-sufficient.</p>
+
+<p>As the long train drew into the station, and they
+alighted and followed the crowd, Mrs. Gray looked
+with round eyes of wonder at the people--she had not
+realized that there were so many in the world, and
+she clung closer and closer to Reuben, who was marching
+along with a fine show of indifference.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There,&#8221; said he, as he deposited his
+wife and his bags in a seat in the huge waiting-room;
+&#8220;now you stay right here, an&#8217; don&#8217;t
+you move. I&#8217;m goin&#8217; to find out about
+hotels and things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He was gone so long that she was nearly fainting from
+fright before she spied his dear form coming toward
+her. His thin, plain face looked wonderfully beautiful
+to her, and she almost hugged him right before all
+those people.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;ve got a hotel all right; but
+I hain&#8217;t been here for so long I&#8217;ve kinder
+forgot about the streets, so the man said we&#8217;d
+better have a team to take us there.&#8221; And he
+picked up the bags and trudged off, closely followed
+by Emily.</p>
+
+<p>His shrewd Yankee wit carried him safely through a
+bargain with the driver, and they were soon jolting
+and rumbling along to their destination. He had asked
+the man behind the news-stand about a hotel, casually
+mentioning that he had money--plenty of it--and wanted
+a &#8220;bang-up good place.&#8221; The spirit of
+mischief had entered the heart of the news-man, and
+he had given Reuben the name of one of the very highest-priced,
+most luxurious hotels in the city.</p>
+
+<p>As the carriage stopped, Reuben marched boldly up
+the broad steps and entered the palatial office, with
+Emily close at his heels. Two bell-boys sprang forward--the
+one to take the bags, the other to offer to show Mrs.
+Gray to the reception-room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, thank you, I ain&#8217;t particular,&#8221;
+said she sweetly; &#8220;I&#8217;ll wait for Reuben
+here.&#8221; And she dropped into the nearest chair,
+while her husband advanced toward the desk. She noticed
+that men were looking curiously at her, and she felt
+relieved when Reuben and the pretty boy came back and
+said they would go up to their room.</p>
+
+<p>She stood the elevator pretty well, though she gave
+a little gasp (which she tried to choke into a cough)
+as it started. Reuben turned to the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where can I get somethin&#8217; to eat?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Luncheon is being served in the main dining-room
+on the first floor, sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Visions of a lunch as he knew it in Emily&#8217;s
+pantry came to him, and he looked a little dubious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m pretty hungry; but if that&#8217;s
+all I can get I suppose it will have to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes later an officious head waiter, whom Emily
+looked upon with timid awe, was seating them in a
+superbly appointed dining-room. Reuben looked at the
+menu doubtfully, while an attentive, soft-voiced man
+at his elbow bent low to catch his order. Few of the
+strange-looking words conveyed any sort of meaning
+to the poor hungry man. At length spying &#8220;chicken&#8221;
+halfway down the card, he pointed to it in relief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess I&#8217;ll take some of that,&#8221;
+he said, briefly; then he added, &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+know how much it costs--you hain&#8217;t got no price
+after it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The waiter comprehended at once.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The luncheon is served in courses, sir; you
+pay for the whole--whether you eat it or not,&#8221;
+he added shrewdly. &#8220;If you will let me serve
+you according to my judgment, sir, I think I can please
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And there the forlorn little couple sat, amazed and
+hungry, through six courses, each one of which seemed
+to their uneducated palate one degree worse than the
+last.</p>
+
+<p>Two hours later they started for a long walk down
+the wonderful, fascinating street. Each marvelous
+window display came in for its full share of attention,
+but they stood longest before bakeries and restaurants.
+Finally, upon coming to one of the latter, where an
+enticing sign announced &#8220;<i>Boiled Dinner To-day,
+Served Hot at All Hours</i>,&#8221; Reuben could
+endure it no longer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By Jinks, Em&#8217;ly, I&#8217;ve just got
+to have some of that. That stodged-up mess I ate at
+the hotel didn&#8217;t go to the spot at all. Come
+on, let&#8217;s have a good square meal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The hotel knew them just one night. The next morning
+before breakfast Reuben manfully paid his--to him
+astounding--bill and departed for more congenial quarters,
+which they soon found on a neighboring side street.</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the visit was, of course, delightful,
+only the streets were pretty crowded and noisy, and
+they couldn&#8217;t sleep very well at night; moreover,
+Reuben lost his pocketbook with a small sum of money
+in it; so, on the whole, they concluded to go home
+a little before the two weeks ended.</p>
+
+<p>When spring came Nancy returned to her former mistress,
+and her vacant throne remained unoccupied. Little
+by little the dust gathered on the big velvet chairs
+in the parlor, and the room was opened less and less.
+When the first green things commenced to send tender
+shoots up through the wet, brown earth, Reuben&#8217;s
+restlessness was very noticeable. By and by he began
+to go off very early in the morning, returning at noon
+for a hasty dinner, then away again till night. To
+his wife&#8217;s repeated questioning he would reply,
+sheepishly, &#8220;Oh, just loafin&#8217;, that&#8217;s
+all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Emily was nervous, too. Of late she had taken
+a great fancy to a daily walk, and it always led in
+one direction--down past the little brown house. Of
+course, she glanced over the fence at the roses and
+lilacs, and she couldn&#8217;t help seeing that they
+all looked sadly neglected. By and by the weeds came,
+grew, and multiplied; and every time she passed the
+gate her throat fairly choked in sympathy with her
+old pets.</p>
+
+<p>Evenings, she and Reuben spent very happily on the
+back stoop, talking of their great good fortune in
+being able to live in such a fine large house. Somehow
+they said more than usual about it this spring, and
+Reuben often mentioned how glad he was that his wife
+didn&#8217;t have to dig in the garden any more; and
+Emily would reply that she, too, was glad that he
+was having so easy a time. Then they would look down
+at the little brown farmhouse and wonder how they
+ever managed to get along in so tiny a place.</p>
+
+<p>One day, in passing this same little house, Emily
+stopped a moment and leaned over the gate, that she
+might gain a better view of her favorite rosebush.</p>
+
+<p>She evinced the same interest the next two mornings,
+and on the third she timidly opened the gate and walked
+up the old path to the door. A buxom woman with a
+big baby in her arms, and a bigger one hanging to her
+skirts, answered her knock.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you do, Mis&#8217; Gray. Won&#8217;t
+you come in?&#8221; said she civilly, looking mildly
+surprised.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, thank you--yes--I mean--I came to see you,&#8221;
+stammered Emily confusedly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re very good,&#8221; murmured the
+woman, still standing in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your flowers are so pretty,&#8221; ventured
+Mrs. Gray, unable to keep the wistfulness out of her
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you think so?&#8221; carelessly; &#8220;I
+s&#8217;pose they need weedin&#8217;. What with my
+babies an&#8217; all, I don&#8217;t get much time for
+posies.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, please,--would it be too much trouble to
+let me come an&#8217; putter around in the beds?&#8221;
+queried the little woman eagerly. &#8220;Oh, I would
+like it so much!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The other laughed heartily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I really don&#8217;t see how it&#8217;s
+goin&#8217; to trouble me to have you weedin&#8217;
+my flowers; in fact, I should think the shoe would
+be on the other foot.&#8221; Then the red showed in
+her face a little. &#8220;You&#8217;re welcome to
+do whatever you want, Mis&#8217; Gray.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, thank you!&#8221; exclaimed Emily, as she
+quickly pulled up an enormous weed at her feet.</p>
+
+<p>It took but a few hours&#8217; work to bring about
+a wonderfully happy change in that forlorn garden,
+and then Mrs. Gray found that she had a big pile of
+weeds to dispose of. Filling her apron with a portion
+of them, she started to go behind the house in search
+of a garbage heap. Around the corner she came face
+to face with her husband, hoe in hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Reuben Gray! Whatever in the world are
+<i>you</i> doing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the man was crushed with the enormity
+of his crime; then he caught sight of his wife&#8217;s
+dirt-stained fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I guess I ain&#8217;t doin&#8217; no
+worse than you be!&#8221; And he turned his back and
+began to hoe vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>Emily dropped the weeds where she stood, turned about,
+and walked through the garden and up the hill, pondering
+many things.</p>
+
+<p>Supper was strangely quiet that night. Mrs. Gray had
+asked a single question: &#8220;Reuben, do you want
+the little house back?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A glad light leaped into the old man&#8217;s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Em&#8217;ly--would you be willin&#8217; to?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>After the supper dishes were put away, Mrs. Gray,
+with a light shawl over her head, came to her husband
+on the back stoop.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, dear; I think we&#8217;d better go down
+to-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later they sat stiffly in the best room
+of the farmhouse, while the buxom woman and her husband
+looked wonderingly at them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You wan&#8217;t thinkin&#8217; of sellin&#8217;,
+was ye?&#8221; began Reuben insinuatingly.</p>
+
+<p>The younger man&#8217;s eyelid quivered a little.
+&#8220;Well, no,--I can&#8217;t hardly say that I
+was. I hain&#8217;t but just bought.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reuben hitched his chair a bit and glanced at Emily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, me and my wife have concluded that we&#8217;re
+too old to transplant-- we don&#8217;t seem to take
+root very easy--and we&#8217;ve been thinkin&#8217;--would
+you swap even, now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>It must have been a month later that Reuben Gray and
+his wife were contentedly sitting in the old familiar
+kitchen of the little brown house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been wondering, Reuben,&#8221; said
+his wife--&#8220;I&#8217;ve been wondering if &#8217;twouldn&#8217;t
+have been just as well if we&#8217;d taken some of
+the good things while they was goin&#8217;--before
+we got too old to enjoy &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes--peanuts, for instance,&#8221; acquiesced
+her husband ruefully.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_09"></a>In the Footsteps of Katy</h1>
+
+<p>Only Alma had lived--Alma, the last born. The other
+five, one after another, had slipped from loving,
+clinging arms into the great Silence, leaving worse
+than a silence behind them; and neither Nathan Kelsey
+nor his wife Mary could have told you which hurt the
+more,--the saying of a last good-bye to a stalwart,
+grown lad of twenty, or the folding of tiny, waxen
+hands over a heart that had not counted a year of beating.
+Yet both had fallen to their lot.</p>
+
+<p>As for Alma--Alma carried in her dainty self all the
+love, hopes, tenderness, ambitions, and prayers that
+otherwise would have been bestowed upon six. And Alma
+was coming home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary,&#8221; said Nathan one June evening,
+as he and his wife sat on the back porch, &#8220;I
+saw Jim Hopkins ter-day. Katy&#8217;s got home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m,&#8221;--the low rocker swayed gently
+to and fro,--&#8220;Katy&#8217;s been ter college,
+same as Alma, ye know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; an&#8217;--an&#8217; that&#8217;s what
+Jim was talkin&#8217; &#8216;bout He was feelin&#8217;
+bad-powerful bad.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bad!&#8221;--the rocker stopped abruptly. &#8220;Why,
+Nathan!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; he--&#8221; There was a pause, then the
+words came with the rush of desperation. &#8220;He
+said home wan&#8217;t like home no more. That Katy
+was as good as gold, an&#8217; they was proud of her;
+but she was turrible upsettin&#8217;. Jim has ter
+rig up nights now ter eat supper--put on his coat an&#8217;
+a b&#8217;iled collar; an&#8217; he says he&#8217;s
+got so he don&#8217;t dast ter open his head. They&#8217;re
+all so, too--Mis&#8217; Hopkins, an&#8217; Sue, an&#8217;
+Aunt Jane--don&#8217;t none of &#8217;em dast ter
+speak.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Nathan!--why not?&#8221; &#8220;&#8216;Cause
+of--Katy. Jim says there don&#8217;t nothin&#8217;
+they say suit Katy--&#8217;bout its wordin&#8217;,
+I mean. She changes it an&#8217; tells &#8217;em what
+they&#8217;d orter said.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, the saucy little baggage!&#8221;--the
+rocker resumed its swaying, and Mary Kelsey&#8217;s
+foot came down on the porch floor with decided, rhythmic
+pats.</p>
+
+<p>The man stirred restlessly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But she ain&#8217;t sassy, Mary,&#8221; he
+demurred. &#8220;Jim says Katy&#8217;s that sweet
+an&#8217; pleasant about it that ye can&#8217;t do
+nothin&#8217;. She tells &#8217;em she&#8217;s kerrectin&#8217;
+&#8217;em fur their own good, an&#8217; that they need
+culturin&#8217;. An&#8217; Jim says she spends all
+o&#8217; meal-time tellin&#8217; &#8217;bout the things
+on the table, --salt, an&#8217; where folks git it,
+an&#8217; pepper, an&#8217; tumblers, an&#8217; how
+folks make &#8217;em. He says at first &#8216;twas
+kind o&#8217; nice an&#8217; he liked ter hear it;
+but now, seems as if he hain&#8217;t got no appetite
+left ev&#8217;ry time he sets down ter the table.
+He don&#8217;t relish eatin&#8217; such big words an&#8217;
+queer names.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; that ain&#8217;t all,&#8221; resumed
+Nathan, after a pause for breath. &#8220;Jim can&#8217;t
+go hoein&#8217; nor diggin&#8217; but she&#8217;ll
+foller him an&#8217; tell &#8217;bout the bugs an&#8217;
+worms he turns up,--how many legs they&#8217;ve got,
+an&#8217; all that. An&#8217; the moon ain&#8217;t
+jest a moon no more, an&#8217; the stars ain&#8217;t
+stars. They&#8217;re sp&#8217;eres an&#8217; planets
+with heathenish names an&#8217; rings an&#8217; orbits.
+Jim feels bad--powerful bad--&#8217;bout it, an&#8217;
+he says he can&#8217;t see no way out of it. He knows
+they hain&#8217;t had much schooling any of &#8217;em,
+only Katy, an&#8217; he says that sometimes he &#8217;most
+wishes that--that she hadn&#8217;t, neither.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nathan Kelsey&#8217;s voice had sunk almost to a whisper,
+and with the last words his eyes sent a furtive glance
+toward the stoop-shouldered little figure in the low
+rocker. The chair was motionless now, and its occupant
+sat picking at a loose thread in the gingham apron.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I wouldn&#8217;t &#8216;a&#8217; spoke of
+it,&#8221; stammered the man, with painful hesitation,
+&#8220;only--well, ye see, I--you-&#8221; he stopped
+helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; faltered the little woman. &#8220;You
+was thinkin&#8217; of--Alma.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She wouldn&#8217;t do it--Alma wouldn&#8217;t!&#8221;
+retorted the man sharply, almost before his wife had
+ceased speaking.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no, of course not; but--Nahtan, ye <i>don&#8217;t</i>
+think Alma&#8217;d ever be--<i>ashamed</i> of
+us, do ye?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Course not!&#8221; asserted Nathan,
+but his voice shook. &#8220;Don&#8217;t ye worry,
+Mary,&#8221; he comforted. &#8220;Alma ain&#8217;t
+a-goin&#8217; ter do no kerrectin&#8217; of us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nathan, I--I think that&#8217;s &#8216;co-rectin&#8217;,&#8217;&#8221;
+suggested the woman, a little breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>The man turned and gazed at his wife without speaking.
+Then his jaw fell.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, by sugar, Mary! <i>You</i> ain&#8217;t
+a-goin&#8217; ter begin it, be ye?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, no, &#8216;course not!&#8221; she laughed
+confusedly. &#8220;An&#8217;--an&#8217; Alma wouldn&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Course Alma wouldn&#8217;t,&#8221; echoed
+her husband. &#8220;Come, it&#8217;s time ter shut
+up the house.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The date of Alma&#8217;s expected arrival was yet
+a week ahead.</p>
+
+<p>As the days passed, there came a curious restlessness
+to the movements of both Nathan and his wife. It was
+on the last night of that week of waiting that Mrs.
+Kelsey spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nathan,&#8221; she began, with forced courage,
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve been over to Mis&#8217; Hopkins&#8217;s--an&#8217;
+asked her what special things &#8217;twas that Katy
+set such store by. I thought mebbe if we knew &#8217;em
+beforehand, an&#8217; could do &#8217;em, an&#8217;--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s jest what I asked Jim ter-day,
+Mary,&#8221; cut in Nathan excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nathan, you didn&#8217;t, now! Oh, I&#8217;m
+so glad! An&#8217; we&#8217;ll do &#8217;em, won&#8217;t
+we?-- jest ter please her?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Course we will!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye see it&#8217;s four years since she was
+here, Nathan, what with her teachin&#8217; summers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sugar, now! Is it? It hain&#8217;t seemed so
+long.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nathan,&#8221; interposed Mrs. Kelsey, anxiously,
+&#8220;I think that &#8216;hain&#8217;t&#8217; ain&#8217;t--I
+mean <i>aren&#8217;t</i> right. I think you&#8217;d
+orter say, &#8217;It haven&#8217;t seemed so long.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The man frowned, and made an impatient gesture.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes, I know,&#8221; soothed his wife;
+&#8220;but,--well, we might jest as well begin now
+an&#8217; git used to it. Mis&#8217; Hopkins said that
+them two words, &#8216;hain&#8217;t an&#8217; &#8217;ain&#8217;t,
+was what Katy hated most of anythin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; Jim mentioned &#8217;em, too,&#8221; acknowledged
+Nathan gloomily. &#8220;But he said that even them
+wan&#8217;t half so bad as his riggin&#8217; up nights.
+He said that Katy said that after the &#8216;toil
+of the day&#8217; they must &#8217;don fresh garments
+an&#8217; come ter the evenin&#8217; meal with minds
+an&#8217; bodies refreshed.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; an&#8217;, Nathan, ain&#8217;t my black
+silk--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ahem! I&#8217;m a-thinkin&#8217; it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+me that said &#8216;ain&#8217;t&#8217; that time,&#8221;
+interposed Nathan.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear, dear, Nathan!--did I? Oh, dear, what
+<i>will</i> Alma say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It don&#8217;t make no diff&#8217;rence what
+Alma says, Mary. Don&#8217;t ye fret,&#8221; returned
+the man with sudden sharpness, as he rose to his feet.
+&#8220;I guess Alma&#8217;ll have ter take us &#8217;bout
+as we be--&#8217;bout as we be.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was Nathan who asked, just as his wife was
+dropping off to sleep that night:--</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary, is it three o&#8217; them collars I&#8217;ve
+got, or four?--b&#8217;iled ones, I mean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At five o&#8217;clock the next afternoon Mrs. Kelsey
+put on the treasured black silk dress, sacred for
+a dozen years to church, weddings, and funerals. Nathan,
+warm and uncomfortable in his Sunday suit and stiff
+collar, had long since driven to the station for Alma.
+The house, brushed and scrubbed into a state of speckless
+order, was thrown wide open to welcome the returning
+daughter. At a quarter before six she came.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, you darling!&#8221; cried a voice,
+and Mrs. Kelsey found herself in the clasp of strong
+young arms, and gazing into a flushed, eager face.
+&#8220;Don&#8217;t you look good! And doesn&#8217;t
+everything look good!&#8221; finished the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does it--I mean, <i>do</i> it?&#8221;
+quavered the little woman excitedly. &#8220;Oh, Alma,
+I <i>am</i> glad ter see ye!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Behind Alma&#8217;s back Nathan flicked a bit of dust
+from his coat. The next instant he raised a furtive
+hand and gave his collar and neckband a savage pull.</p>
+
+<p>At the supper-table that night ten minutes of eager
+questioning on the part of Alma had gone by before
+Mrs. Kelsey realized that thus far their conversation
+had been of nothing more important than Nathan&#8217;s
+rheumatism, her own health, and the welfare of Rover,
+Tabby, and the mare Topsy. Commensurate with the happiness
+that had been hers during those ten minutes came now
+her remorse. She hastened to make amends.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, Alma, I beg yer pardon, I&#8217;m
+sure. I hain&#8217;t--er--I <i>haven&#8217;t</i>
+meant ter keep ye talkin&#8217; on such triflin&#8217;
+things, dear. Now talk ter us yer self. Tell us about
+things--anythin&#8217;--anythin&#8217; on the table
+or in the room,&#8221; she finished feverishly.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the merry-faced girl stared in frank
+amazement at her mother; then she laughed gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On the table? In the room?&#8221; she retorted.
+&#8220;Well, it&#8217;s the dearest room ever, and
+looks so good to me! As for the table--the rolls are
+feathers, the coffee is nectar, and the strawberries--well,
+the strawberries are just strawberries--they couldn&#8217;t
+be nicer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Alma, but I didn&#8217;t mean----&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tut, tut, tut!&#8221; interrupted Alma laughingly.
+&#8220;Just as if the cook didn&#8217;t like her handiwork
+praised! Why, when I draw a picture--oh, and I haven&#8217;t
+told you!&#8221; she broke off excitedly. The next
+instant she was on her feet. &#8220;Alma Mead Kelsey,
+Illustrator; at your service,&#8221; she announced
+with a low bow. Then she dropped into her seat again
+and went on speaking.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see, I&#8217;ve been doing this sort of
+thing for some time,&#8221; she explained, &#8220;and
+have had some success in selling. My teacher has always
+encouraged me, and, acting on his advice, I stayed
+over in New York a week with a friend, and took some
+of my work to the big publishing houses. That&#8217;s
+why I didn&#8217;t get here as soon as Kate Hopkins
+did. I hated to put off my coming; but now I&#8217;m
+so glad I did. Only think! I sold every single thing,
+and I have orders and orders ahead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, by sugar!&#8221; ejaculated the man at
+the head of the table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh-h-h!&#8221; breathed the little woman opposite.
+&#8220;Oh, Alma, I&#8217;m so glad!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In spite of Mrs. Kelsey&#8217;s protests that night
+after supper, Alma tripped about the kitchen and pantry
+wiping the dishes and putting them away. At dusk father,
+mother, and daughter seated themselves on the back
+porch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; sighed Alma. &#8220;Isn&#8217;t
+this restful? And isn&#8217;t that moon glorious?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kelsey shot a quick look at her husband; then
+she cleared her throat nervously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Er--yes,&#8221; she assented. &#8220;I--I s&#8217;pose
+you know what it&#8217;s made of, an&#8217; how big
+&#8216;tis, an&#8217;--an&#8217; what there is on it,
+don&#8217;t ye, Alma?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Alma raised her eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m; well, there are still a few points that
+I and the astronomers haven&#8217;t quite settled,&#8221;
+she returned, with a whimsical smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; the stars, they&#8217;ve got names,
+I s&#8217;pose--every one of &#8217;em,&#8221; proceeded
+Mrs. Kelsey, so intent on her own part that Alma&#8217;s
+reply passed unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>Alma laughed; then she assumed an attitude of mock
+rapture, and quoted:</p>
+
+<p class="verse">&#160;&#160;&#8220;&#8217;Scintillate, scintillate, globule vivific,<br />
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Fain would I fathom thy nature specific;<br />
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Loftily poised in ether capacious,<br />
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Strongly resembling the gem carbonaceous.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence. Alma&#8217;s eyes were on
+the flying clouds.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Would--would you mind saying that again, Alma?&#8221;
+asked Mrs. Kelsey at last timidly.</p>
+
+<p>Alma turned with a start.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Saying what, dearie?--oh, that nonsensical
+verse? Of course not! That&#8217;s only another way
+of saying &#8216;twinkle, twinkle, little star.&#8217;
+Means just the same, only uses up a few more letters
+to make the words. Listen.&#8221; And she repeated
+the two, line for line.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; said her mother faintly. &#8220;Er--thank
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I guess I&#8217;ll go to bed,&#8221; announced
+Nathan Kelsey suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Alma&#8217;s pleadings were in vain.
+Mrs. Kelsey insisted that Alma should go about her
+sketching, leaving the housework for her own hands
+to perform. With a laughing protest and a playful pout,
+Alma tucked her sketchbook under her arm and left
+the house to go down by the river. In the field she
+came upon her father.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hard at work, dad?&#8221; she called affectionately.
+&#8220;Old Mother Earth won&#8217;t yield her increase
+without just so much labor, will she?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That she won&#8217;t,&#8221; laughed the man.
+Then he flushed a quick red and set a light foot on
+a crawling thing of many legs which had emerged from
+beneath an overturned stone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; cried Alma. &#8220;Your foot, father--your&#8217;re
+crushing something!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The flush grew deeper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I guess not,&#8221; rejoined the man, lifting
+his foot, and giving a curiously resigned sigh as
+he sent an apprehensive glance into the girl&#8217;s
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear, dear! isn&#8217;t he funny?&#8221; murmured
+the girl, bending low and giving a gentle poke with
+the pencil in her hand. &#8220;Only fancy,&#8221; she
+added, straightening herself, &#8220;only fancy if
+we had so many feet. Just picture the size of our
+shoe bill!&#8221; And she laughed and turned away.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, by gum!&#8221; ejaculated the man, looking
+after her. Then he fell to work, and his whistle,
+as he worked, carried something of the song of a bird
+set free from a cage.</p>
+
+<p>A week passed.</p>
+
+<p>The days were spent by Alma in roaming the woods and
+fields, pencil and paper in hand; they were spent
+by her mother in the hot kitchen over a hotter stove.
+To Alma&#8217;s protests and pleadings Mrs. Kelsey
+was deaf. Alma&#8217;s place was not there, her work
+was not housework, declared Alma&#8217;s mother.</p>
+
+<p>On Mrs. Kelsey the strain was beginning to tell. It
+was not the work alone--though that was no light matter,
+owing to her anxiety that Alma&#8217;s pleasure and
+comfort should find nothing wanting--it was more than
+the work.</p>
+
+<p>Every night at six the anxious little woman, flushed
+from biscuit-baking and chicken-broiling and almost
+sick with fatigue, got out the black silk gown and
+the white lace collar and put them on with trembling
+hands. Thus robed in state she descended to the supper-table,
+there to confront her husband still more miserable
+in the stiff collar and black coat.</p>
+
+<p>Nor yet was this all. Neither the work nor the black
+silk dress contained for Mrs. Kelsey quite the possibilities
+of soul torture that were to be found in the words
+that fell from her lips. As the days passed, the task
+the little woman had set for herself became more and
+more hopeless, until she scarcely could bring herself
+to speak at all, so stumbling and halting were her
+sentences.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the eighth day came the culmination
+of it all. Alma, her nose sniffing the air, ran into
+the kitchen that night to find no one in the room,
+and the biscuits burning in the oven. She removed the
+biscuits, threw wide the doors and windows, then hurried
+upstairs to her mother&#8217;s room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, mother!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kelsey stood before the glass, a deep flush on
+her cheeks and tears rolling down her face. Two trembling
+hands struggled with the lace at her throat until
+the sharp point of a pin found her thumb and left a
+tiny crimson stain on the spotlessness of the collar.
+It was then that Mrs. Kelsey covered her face with
+her hands and sank into the low chair by the bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, mother!&#8221; cried Alma again, hurrying
+across the room and dropping on her knees at her mother&#8217;s
+side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t, Alma, I can&#8217;t!&#8221;
+moaned the woman. &#8220;I&#8217;ve tried an&#8217;
+tried; but I&#8217;ve got ter give up, I&#8217;ve
+got ter give up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t what, dearie?--give up what?&#8221;
+demanded Alma.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kelsey shook her head. Then she dropped her hands
+and looked fearfully into her daughter&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; yer father, too, Alma--he&#8217;s
+tried, an&#8217; he can&#8217;t,&#8221; she choked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tried what? What <i>do</i> you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With her eyes on Alma&#8217;s troubled, amazed face,
+Mrs. Kelsey made one last effort to gain her lost
+position. She raised her shaking hands to her throat
+and fumbled for the pin and the collar.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dear, don&#8217;t fret,&#8221;
+she stammered. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t think what I
+was sayin&#8217;. It ain&#8217;t nothin&#8217;--I mean,
+it <i>aren&#8217;t</i> nothin&#8217;--it <i>am</i>
+not--oh-h!&#8221; she sobbed; &#8220;there, ye see,
+Alma, I can&#8217;t, I can&#8217;t. It ain&#8217;t
+no more use ter try!&#8221; Down went the gray head
+on Alma&#8217;s strong young shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dear, cry away,&#8221; comforted
+Alma, with loving pats. &#8220;It will do you good;
+then we&#8217;ll hear what this is all about, from
+the very beginning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. Kelsey told her--and from the very beginning.
+When the telling was over, and the little woman, a
+bit breathless and frightened, sat awaiting what Alma
+would say, there came a long silence.</p>
+
+<p>Alma&#8217;s lips were close shut. Alma was not quite
+sure, if she opened them, whether there would come
+a laugh or a sob. The laugh was uppermost and almost
+parted the firm-set lips, when a side glance at the
+quivering face of the little woman in the big chair
+turned the laugh into a half-stifled sob. Then Alma
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, dear, listen. Do you think a silk dress
+and a stiff collar can make you and father any dearer
+to me? Do you think an &#8216;ain&#8217;t&#8217; or
+a &#8216;hain&#8217;t&#8217; can make me love either
+of you any less? Do you suppose I expect you, after
+fifty years&#8217; service for others, to be as careful
+in your ways and words as if you&#8217;d spent those
+fifty years in training yourself instead of in training
+six children? Why, mother, dear, do you suppose that
+I don&#8217;t know that for twenty of those years you
+have had no thoughts, no prayers, save for me?--that
+I have been the very apple of your eye? Well, it&#8217;s
+my turn, now, and you are the apple of my eye--you
+and father. Why, dearie, you have no idea of the plans
+I have for you. There&#8217;s a good strong woman
+coming next week for the kitchen work. Oh, it&#8217;s
+all right,&#8221; assured Alma, quickly, in response
+to the look on her mother&#8217;s face. &#8220;Why,
+I&#8217;m rich! Only think of those orders! And then
+you shall dress in silk or velvet, or calico--anything
+you like, so long as it doesn&#8217;t scratch nor
+prick,&#8221; she added merrily, bending forward and
+fastening the lace collar. &#8220;And you shall----&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ma-ry?&#8221; It was Nathan at the foot of
+the back stairway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Nathan.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t it &#8217;most supper-time?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bless my soul!&#8221; cried Mrs. Kelsey, springing
+to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217;, Mary----&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hain&#8217;t I got a collar--a b&#8217;iled
+one, on the bureau up there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; called Alma, snatching up the collar
+and throwing it on the bed. &#8220;There isn&#8217;t
+a sign of one there. Suppose you let it go to-night,
+dad?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, if you don&#8217;t mind!&#8221; And a
+very audible sigh of relief floated up the back stairway.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_10"></a>The Bridge Across the Years</h1>
+
+<p>John was expected on the five o&#8217;clock stage.
+Mrs. John had been there three days now, and John&#8217;s
+father and mother were almost packed up--so Mrs. John
+said. The auction would be to-morrow at nine o&#8217;clock,
+and with John there to see that things &#8220;hustled&#8221;--which
+last was really unnecessary to mention, for John&#8217;s
+very presence meant &#8220;hustle&#8221;--with John
+there, then, the whole thing ought to be over by one
+o&#8217;clock, and they off in season to &#8217;catch
+the afternoon express.</p>
+
+<p>And what a time it had been--those three days!</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. John, resting in the big chair on the front porch,
+thought of those days with complacency--that they
+were over. Grandpa and Grandma Burton, hovering over
+old treasures in the attic, thought of them with terrified
+dismay--that they had ever begun.</p>
+
+<p>I am coming up on Tuesday [Mrs. John had written].
+We have been thinking for some time that you and father
+ought not to be left alone up there on the farm any
+longer. Now don&#8217;t worry about the packing. I
+shall bring Marie, and you won&#8217;t have to lift
+your finger. John will come Thursday night, and be
+there for the auction on Friday. By that time we shall
+have picked out what is worth saving, and everything
+will be ready for him to take matters in hand. I think
+he has already written to the auctioneer, so tell
+father to give himself no uneasiness on that score.</p>
+
+<p>John says he thinks we can have you back here with
+us by Friday night, or Saturday at the latest. You
+know John&#8217;s way, so you may be sure there will
+be no tiresome delay. Your rooms here will be all ready
+before I leave, so that part will be all right.</p>
+
+<p>This may seem a bit sudden to you, but you know we
+have always told you that the time was surely coming
+when you couldn&#8217;t live alone any longer. John
+thinks it has come now; and, as I said before, you
+know John, so, after all, you won&#8217;t be surprised
+at his going right ahead with things. We shall do
+everything possible to make you comfortable, and I
+am sure you will be very happy here.</p>
+
+<p>Good-bye, then, until Tuesday. With love to both of
+you.</p>
+
+<p style="font-variant: small-caps;text-align: right">Edith.</p>
+
+<p>That had been the beginning. To Grandpa and Grandma
+Burton it had come like a thunderclap on a clear day.
+They had known, to be sure, that son John frowned
+a little at their lonely life; but that there should
+come this sudden transplanting, this ruthless twisting
+and tearing up of roots that for sixty years had been
+burrowing deeper and deeper--it was almost beyond
+one&#8217;s comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>And there was the auction!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We shan&#8217;t need that, anyway,&#8221; Grandma
+Burton had said at once. &#8220;What few things we
+don&#8217;t want to keep I shall give away. An auction,
+indeed! Pray, what have we to sell?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m! To be sure, to be sure,&#8221; her husband
+had murmured; but his face was troubled, and later
+he had said, apologetically: &#8220;You see, Hannah,
+there&#8217;s the farm things. We don&#8217;t need
+them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>On Tuesday night Mrs. John and the somewhat awesome
+Maria--to whom Grandpa and Grandma Burton never could
+learn not to curtsy--arrived; and almost at once Grandma
+Burton discovered that not only &#8220;farm things,&#8221;
+but such precious treasures as the hair wreath and
+the parlor--set were auctionable. In fact, everything
+the house contained, except their clothing and a few
+crayon portraits, seemed to be in the same category.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, mother, dear,&#8221; Mrs. John had returned,
+with a laugh, in response to Grandma Burton&#8217;s
+horrified remonstrances, &#8220;just wait until you
+see your rooms, and how full they are of beautiful
+things, and then you&#8217;ll understand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But they won&#8217;t be--these,&#8221; the
+old voice had quavered.</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. John had laughed again, and had patted her
+mother-in-law&#8217;s cheek, and had echoed-but with
+a different shade of meaning--&#8220;No, they certainly
+won&#8217;t be these!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the attic now, on a worn black trunk, sat the little
+old man, and down on the floor before an antiquated
+cradle knelt his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They was all rocked in it, Seth,&#8221; she
+was saying,--&#8220;John and the twins and my two
+little girls; and now there ain&#8217;t any one left
+only John--and the cradle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, Hannah, but you ain&#8217;t <i>usin&#8217;</i>
+that nowadays, so you don&#8217;t really need it,&#8221;
+comforted the old man. &#8220;But there&#8217;s my
+big chair now-- seems as though we jest oughter take
+that. Why, there ain&#8217;t a day goes by that I
+don&#8217;t set in it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But John&#8217;s wife says there&#8217;s better
+ones there, Seth,&#8221; soothed the old woman in
+her turn, &#8220;as much as four or five of &#8217;em
+right in our rooms.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So she did, so she did!&#8221; murmured the
+man. &#8220;I&#8217;m an ongrateful thing; so I be.&#8221;
+ There was a long pause. The old man drummed with his
+fingers on the trunk and watched a cloud sail across
+the skylight. The woman gently swung the cradle to
+and fro. &#8220;If only they wan&#8217;t goin&#8217;
+ter be--sold!&#8221; she choked, after a time. &#8220;I
+like ter know that they&#8217;re where I can look
+at &#8217;em, an&#8217; feel of &#8217;em, an&#8217;--an&#8217;
+remember things. Now there&#8217;s them quilts with
+all my dress pieces in &#8217;em--a piece of most every
+dress I&#8217;ve had since I was a girl; an&#8217;
+there&#8217;s that hair wreath--seems as if I jest
+couldn&#8217;t let that go, Seth. Why, there&#8217;s
+your hair, an&#8217; John&#8217;s, an&#8217; some
+of the twins&#8217;, an&#8217;--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dear; now I jest wouldn&#8217;t
+fret,&#8221; cut in the old man quickly. &#8220;Like
+enough when you get used ter them other things on the
+wall you&#8217;ll like &#8217;em even better than the
+hair wreath. John&#8217;s wife says she&#8217;s taken
+lots of pains an&#8217; fixed &#8217;em up with pictures
+an&#8217; curtains an&#8217; everythin&#8217; nice,&#8221;
+went on Seth, talking very fast. &#8220;Why, Hannah,
+it&#8217;s you that&#8217;s bein&#8217; ongrateful
+now, dear!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So &#8217;tis, so &#8216;tis, Seth, an&#8217;
+it ain&#8217;t right an&#8217; I know it. I ain&#8217;t
+a-goin&#8217; ter do so no more; now see!&#8221;
+And she bravely turned her back on the cradle and
+walked, head erect, toward the attic stairs.</p>
+
+<p>John came at five o&#8217;clock. He engulfed the little
+old man and the little old woman in a bearlike hug,
+and breezily demanded what they had been doing to
+themselves to make them look so forlorn. In the very
+next breath, however, he answered his own question,
+and declared it was because they had been living all
+cooped up alone so long--so it was; and that it was
+high time it was stopped, and that he had come to do
+it! Whereupon the old man and the old woman smiled
+bravely and told each other what a good, good son
+they had, to be sure!</p>
+
+<p>Friday dawned clear, and not too warm--an ideal auction-day.
+Long before nine o&#8217;clock the yard was full of
+teams and the house of people. Among them all, however,
+there was no sign of the bent old man and the erect
+little old woman, the owners of the property to be
+sold. John and Mrs. John were not a little disturbed--they
+had lost their father and mother.</p>
+
+<p>Nine o&#8217;clock came, and with it began the strident
+call of the auctioneer. Men laughed and joked over
+their bids, and women looked on and gossiped, adding
+a bid of their own now and then. Everywhere was the
+son of the house, and things went through with a rush.
+Upstairs, in the darkest corner of the attic--which
+had been cleared of goods--sat, hand in hand on an
+old packing-box, a little old man and a little old
+woman who winced and shrank together every time the
+&#8220;Going, going, gone!&#8221; floated up to them
+from the yard below.</p>
+
+<p>At half-past one the last wagon rumbled out of the
+yard, and five minutes later Mrs. John gave a relieved
+cry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, there you are! Why, mother, father, where
+<i>have</i> you been?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply. The old man choked back a cough
+and bent to flick a bit of dust from his coat. The
+old woman turned and crept away, her erect little
+figure looking suddenly bent and old.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, what--&#8221; began John, as his father,
+too, turned away. &#8220;Why, Edith, you don&#8217;t
+suppose--&#8221; He stopped with a helpless frown.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perfectly natural, my dear, perfectly natural,&#8221;
+returned Mrs. John lightly. &#8220;We&#8217;ll get
+them away immediately. It&#8217;ll be all right when
+once they are started.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Some hours later a very tired old man and a still
+more tired old woman crept into a pair of sumptuous,
+canopy-topped twin beds. There was only one remark.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Seth, mine ain&#8217;t feathers a mite!
+Is yours?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply. Tired nature had triumphed--Seth
+was asleep.</p>
+
+<p>They made a brave fight, those two. They told themselves
+that the chairs were easier, the carpets softer, and
+the pictures prettier than those that had gone under
+the hammer that day as they sat hand in hand in the
+attic. They assured each other that the unaccustomed
+richness of window and bed hangings and the profusion
+of strange vases and statuettes did not make them
+afraid to stir lest they soil or break something. They
+insisted to each other that they were not homesick,
+and that they were perfectly satisfied as they were.
+And yet--</p>
+
+<p>When no one was looking Grandpa Burton tried chair
+after chair, and wondered why there was only one particular
+chair in the whole world that just exactly &#8220;fitted;&#8221;
+and when the twilight hour came Grandma Burton wondered
+what she would give to be able just to sit by the old
+cradle and talk with the past.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>The newspapers said it was a most marvelous escape
+for the whole family. They gave a detailed account
+of how the beautiful residence of the Honorable John
+Burton, with all its costly furnishings, had burned
+to the ground, and of how the entire family was saved,
+making special mention of the honorable gentleman&#8217;s
+aged father and mother. No one was injured, fortunately,
+and the family had taken up a temporary residence
+in the nearest hotel. It was understood that Mr. Burton
+would begin rebuilding at once.</p>
+
+<p>The newspapers were right--Mr. Burton did begin rebuilding
+at once; in fact, the ashes of the Burton mansion
+were not cold before John Burton began to interview
+architects and contractors.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll be &#8217;way ahead of the old
+one,&#8221; he confided to his wife enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. John sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, dear,&#8221; she began plaintively;
+&#8220;but, don&#8217;t you see? it won&#8217;t be
+the same--it can&#8217;t be. Why, some of those things
+we&#8217;ve had ever since we were married. They seemed
+a part of me, John. I was used to them. I had grown
+up with some of them--those candlesticks of mamma&#8217;s,
+for instance, that she had when I was a bit of a baby.
+Do you think money can buy another pair that--that
+were <i>hers</i>?&#8221; And Mrs. John burst into
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, come, dear,&#8221; protested her husband,
+with a hasty caress and a nervous glance at the clock--he
+was due at the bank in ten minutes.&#8221; Don&#8217;t
+fret about what can&#8217;t be helped; besides"-and
+he laughed whimsically--&#8220;you must look out or
+you&#8217;ll be getting as bad as mother over her
+hair wreath!&#8221; And with another hasty pat on her
+shoulder he was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. John suddenly stopped her crying. She lowered
+her handkerchief and stared fixedly at an old print
+on the wall opposite. The hotel--though strictly modern
+in cuisine and management--was an old one, and prided
+itself on the quaintness of its old-time furnishings.
+Just what the print represented Mrs. John could not
+have told, though her eyes did not swerve from its
+face for five long minutes. What she did see was a
+silent, dismantled farmhouse, and a little old man
+and a little old woman with drawn faces and dumb lips.</p>
+
+<p>Was it possible? Had she, indeed, been so blind?</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. John rose to her feet, bathed her eyes, straightened
+her neck-bow, and crossed the hall to Grandma Burton&#8217;s
+room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, mother, and how are you getting along?&#8221;
+she asked cheerily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jest as nice as can be, daughter,--and ain&#8217;t
+this room pretty?&#8221; returned the little old woman
+eagerly. &#8220;Do you know, it seems kind of natural
+like; mebbe it&#8217;s because of that chair there.
+Seth says it&#8217;s almost like his at home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was a good beginning, and Mrs. John made the most
+of it. Under her skillful guidance Grandma Burton,
+in less than five minutes, had gone from the chair
+to the old clock which her father used to wind, and
+from the clock to the bureau where she kept the dead
+twins&#8217; little white shoes and bonnets. She told,
+too, of the cherished parlor chairs and marble-topped
+table, and of how she and father had saved and saved
+for years to buy them; and even now, as she talked,
+her voice rang with pride of possession--though only
+for a moment; it shook then with the remembrance of
+loss.</p>
+
+<p>There was no complaint, it is true, no audible longing
+for lost treasures. There was only the unwonted joy
+of pouring into sympathetic ears the story of things
+loved and lost--things the very mention of which brought
+sweet faint echoes of voices long since silent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there,&#8221; broke off the little old
+woman at last, &#8220;how I am runnin&#8217; on! But,
+somehow, somethin&#8217; set me to talkin&#8217; ter-day.
+Mebbe&#8217;t was that chair that&#8217;s like yer
+father&#8217;s,&#8221; she hazarded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe it was,&#8221; agreed Mrs. John quietly,
+as she rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>The new house came on apace. In a wonderfully short
+time John Burton began to urge his wife to see about
+rugs and hangings. It was then that Mrs. John called
+him to one side and said a few hurried but very earnest
+words--words that made the Honorable John open wide
+his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Edith,&#8221; he remonstrated, &#8220;are
+you crazy? It simply couldn&#8217;t be done! The things
+are scattered over half a dozen townships; besides,
+I haven&#8217;t the least idea where the auctioneer&#8217;s
+list is--if I saved it at all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind, dear; I may try, surely,&#8221;
+begged Mrs. John. And her husband laughed and reached
+for his check-book.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Try? Of course you may try! And here&#8217;s
+this by way of wishing you good luck,&#8221; he finished,
+as he handed her an oblong bit of paper that would
+go far toward smoothing the most difficult of ways.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You dear!&#8221; cried Mrs. John. &#8220;And
+now I&#8217;m going to work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was at about this time that Mrs. John went away.
+The children were at college and boarding-school;
+John was absorbed in business and house-building,
+and Grandpa and Grandma Burton were contented and well
+cared for. There really seemed to be no reason why
+Mrs. John should not go away, if she wished--and she
+apparently did wish. It was at about this time, too,
+that certain Vermont villages--one of which was the
+Honorable John Burton&#8217;s birthplace--were stirred
+to sudden interest and action. A persistent, smiling-faced
+woman had dropped into their midst--a woman who drove
+from house to house, and who, in every case, left behind
+her a sworn ally and friend, pledged to serve her
+cause.</p>
+
+<p>Little by little, in an unused room in the village
+hotel there began to accumulate a motley collection--a
+clock, a marble-topped table, a cradle, a patchwork
+quilt, a bureau, a hair wreath, a chair worn with
+age and use. And as this collection grew in size and
+fame, only that family which could not add to it counted
+itself abused and unfortunate, so great was the spell
+that the persistent, smiling-faced woman had cast
+about her.</p>
+
+<p>Just before the Burton house was finished Mrs. John
+came back to town. She had to hurry a little about
+the last of the decorations and furnishings to make
+up for lost time; but there came a day when the place
+was pronounced ready for occupancy.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that Mrs. John hurried into Grandpa and
+Grandma Burton&#8217;s rooms at the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, dears,&#8221; she said gayly. &#8220;The
+house is all ready, and we&#8217;re going home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Done? So soon?&#8221; faltered Grandma Burton,
+who had not been told very much concerning the new
+home&#8217;s progress. &#8220;Why, how quick they have
+built it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a note of regret in the tremulous old voice,
+but Mrs. John did not seem to notice. The old man,
+too, rose from his chair with a long sigh--and again
+Mrs. John did not seem to notice.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, dearie, yes, it&#8217;s all very nice
+and fine,&#8221; said Grandma Burton wearily, half
+an hour later as she trudged through the sumptuous
+parlors and halls of the new house; &#8220;but, if
+you don&#8217;t mind, I guess I&#8217;ll go to my
+room, daughter. I&#8217;m tired--turrible tired.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Up the stairs and along the hall trailed the little
+procession--Mrs. John, John, the bent old man, and
+the little old woman. At the end of the hall Mrs.
+John paused a moment, then flung the door wide open.</p>
+
+<p>There was a gasp and a quick step forward; then came
+the sudden illumination of two wrinkled old faces.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;John! Edith!&#8221;--it was a cry of mingled
+joy and wonder.</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply. Mrs. John had closed the door
+and left them there with their treasures.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_11"></a>For Jimmy</h1>
+
+<p>Uncle Zeke&#8217;s pipe had gone out--sure sign that
+Uncle Zeke&#8217;s mind was not at rest. For five
+minutes the old man had occupied in frowning silence
+the other of my veranda rocking-chairs. As I expected,
+however, I had not long to wait.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I met old Sam Hadley an&#8217; his wife in
+the cemetery just now,&#8221; he observed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; I was careful to express just enough,
+and not too much, interest: one had to be circumspect
+with Uncle Zeke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m; I was thinkin&#8217;--&#8221; Uncle Zeke
+paused, shifted his position, and began again. This
+time I had the whole story.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was thinkin&#8217;--I don&#8217;t say that
+Jimmy did right, an&#8217; I don&#8217;t say that
+Jimmy did wrong. Maybe you can tell. &#8217;Twas like
+this:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In a way we all claimed Jimmy Hadley. As a
+little fellow, he was one of them big-eyed, curly-haired
+chaps that gets inside your heart no matter how tough&#8217;t
+is. An&#8217; we was really fond of him, too,--so fond
+of him that we didn&#8217;t do nothin&#8217; but jine
+in when his pa an&#8217; ma talked as if he was the
+only boy that ever was born, or ever would be--an&#8217;
+you know we must have been purty daft ter stood that,
+us bein&#8217; fathers ourselves!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, as was natural, perhaps, the Hadleys
+jest lived fer Jimmy. They&#8217;d lost three, an&#8217;
+he was all there was left. They wasn&#8217;t very well-to-do,
+but nothin&#8217; was too grand fer Jimmy, and when
+the boy begun ter draw them little pictures of his
+all over the shed an&#8217; the barn door, they was
+plumb crazy. There wan&#8217;t no doubt of it--Jimmy
+was goin&#8217; ter be famous, they said. He was goin&#8217;
+ter be one o&#8217; them painter fellows, an&#8217;
+make big money.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; Jimmy did work, even then. He stood
+well in his studies, an&#8217; worked outside, earnin&#8217;
+money so&#8217;s he could take drawin&#8217; lessons
+when he got bigger. An&#8217; by and by he did get
+bigger, an&#8217; he did take lessons down ter the
+Junction twice a week.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There wan&#8217;t no livin&#8217; with Mis&#8217;
+Hadley then, she was that proud; an&#8217; when he
+brought home his first picture, they say she never
+went ter bed at all that night, but jest set gloatin&#8217;
+over it till the sun came in an&#8217; made her kerosene
+lamp look as silly as she did when she saw &#8217;twas
+mornin&#8217;. There was one thing that plagued her,
+though: &#8217;twan&#8217;t painted-- that picture.
+Jimmy called it a &#8216;black an&#8217; white,&#8217;
+an&#8217; said &#8217;twan&#8217;t paintin&#8217;
+that he wanted ter do, but &#8217;lustratin&#8217;--fer
+books and magazines, you know. She felt hurt, an&#8217;
+all put out at first: but Jimmy told her &#8216;twas
+all right, an&#8217; that there was big money in it;
+so she got &#8217;round contented again. She couldn&#8217;t
+help it, anyhow, with Jimmy, he was that lovin&#8217;
+an&#8217; nice with her. He was the kind that&#8217;s
+always bringin&#8217; footstools and shawls, an&#8217;
+makin&#8217; folks comfortable. Everybody loved Jimmy.
+Even the cats an&#8217; dogs rubbed up against him
+an&#8217; wagged their tails at sight of him, an&#8217;
+the kids--goodness, Jimmy couldn&#8217;t cross the
+street without a dozen kids makin&#8217; a grand rush
+fer him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, time went on, an&#8217; Jimmy grew tall
+an&#8217; good lookin&#8217;. Then came the girl--an&#8217;
+she <i>was</i> a girl, too. &#8216;Course, Jimmy,
+bein&#8217; as how he&#8217;d had all the frostin&#8217;
+there was goin&#8217; on everythin&#8217; so fur, carried
+out the same idea in girls, an&#8217; picked out the
+purtiest one he could find-- rich old Townsend&#8217;s
+daughter, Bessie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To the Hadleys this seemed all right--Jimmy
+was merely gettin&#8217; the best, as usual; but the
+rest of us, includin&#8217; old man Townsend, begun
+ter sit up an&#8217; take notice. The old man was mad
+clean through. He had other plans fer Bessie, an&#8217;
+he said so purty plain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it seems there didn&#8217;t any of us--only
+Jimmy, maybe--take the girl herself into consideration.
+For a time she was a little skittish, an&#8217; led
+Jimmy a purty chase with her dancin&#8217; nearer an&#8217;
+nearer, an&#8217; then flyin&#8217; off out of reach.
+But at last she came out fair an&#8217; square fur
+Jimmy, an&#8217; they was as lively a pair of lovers
+as ye&#8217;d wish ter see. It looked, too, as if
+she&#8217;d even wheedle the old man &#8217;round ter
+her side of thinkin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The next thing we knew Jimmy had gone ter New
+York. He was ter study, an&#8217; at the same time
+pick up what work he could, ter turn an honest penny,
+the Hadleys said. We liked that in him. He was goin&#8217;
+ter make somethin&#8217; of himself, so&#8217;s he&#8217;d
+be worthy of Bessie Townsend or any other girl.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But&#8217;t was hard on the Hadleys. Jimmy&#8217;s
+lessons cost a lot, an&#8217; so did just livin&#8217;
+there in New York, an&#8217; &#8217;course Jimmy couldn&#8217;t
+pay fer it all, though I guess he worked nights an&#8217;
+Sundays ter piece out. Back home here the Hadleys
+scrimped an&#8217; scrimped till they didn&#8217;t
+have half enough ter eat, an&#8217; hardly enough
+ter cover their nakedness. But they didn&#8217;t mind--&#8217;t
+was fer Jimmy. He wrote often, an&#8217; told how he
+was workin&#8217;, an&#8217; the girl got letters,
+too; at least, Mis&#8217; Hadley said she did. An&#8217;
+once in a while he&#8217;d tell of some picture he&#8217;d
+finished, or what the teacher said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But by an&#8217; by the letters didn&#8217;t
+come so often. Sam told me about it at first, an&#8217;
+he said it plagued his wife a lot. He said she thought
+maybe Jimmy was gettin&#8217; discouraged, specially
+as he didn&#8217;t seem ter say much of anything about
+his work now. Sam owned up that the letters wan&#8217;t
+so free talkin&#8217;; an&#8217; that worried him.
+He was afraid the boy was keepin&#8217; back somethin&#8217;.
+He asked me, kind of sheepish-like, if I s&#8217;posed
+such a thing could be as that Jimmy had gone wrong,
+somehow. He knew cities was awful wicked an&#8217;
+temptin&#8217;, he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I laughed him out of that notion quick, an&#8217;
+I was honest in it, too. I&#8217;d have as soon suspected
+myself of goin&#8217; ter the bad as Jimmy, an&#8217;
+I told him so. Things didn&#8217;t look right, though.
+The letters got skurser an&#8217; skurser, an&#8217;
+I began ter think myself maybe somethin&#8217; was
+up. Then come the newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was me that took it over to the Hadleys.
+It was a little notice in my weekly, an&#8217; I spied
+it &#8217;way down in the corner just as I thought
+I had the paper all read. &#8217;Twan&#8217;t so much,
+but to us &#8217;twas a powerful lot; jest a little
+notice that they was glad ter see that the first prize
+had gone ter the talented young illustrator, James
+Hadley, an&#8217; that he deserved it, an&#8217; they
+wished him luck.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Hadleys were purty pleased, you&#8217;d
+better believe. They hadn&#8217;t seen it, &#8216;course,
+as they wan&#8217;t wastin&#8217; no money on weeklies
+them days. Sam set right down an&#8217; wrote, an&#8217;
+so did Mis&#8217; Hadley, right out of the fullness
+of their hearts. Mis&#8217; Hadley give me her letter
+ter read, she was that proud an&#8217; excited; an&#8217;
+&#8216;t was a good letter, all brimmin&#8217; over
+with love an&#8217; pride an&#8217; joy in his success.
+I could see just how Jimmy&#8217;d color up an&#8217;
+choke when he read it, specially where she owned up
+how she&#8217;d been gettin&#8217; purty near discouraged
+&#8217;cause they didn&#8217;t hear much from him,
+an&#8217; how she&#8217;d rather die than have her
+Jimmy fail.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, they sent off the letters, an&#8217;
+by an&#8217; by come the answer. It was kind of shy
+and stiff-like, an&#8217; I think it sort of disappointed
+&#8217;em; but they tried ter throw it off an&#8217;
+say that Jimmy was so modest he didn&#8217;t like
+ter take praise.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Course the whole town was interested,
+an&#8217; proud, too, ter think he belonged ter us;
+an&#8217; we couldn&#8217;t hear half enough about
+him. But as time went on we got worried. Things didn&#8217;t
+look right. The Hadleys was still scrimpin&#8217;,
+still sendin&#8217; money when they could, an&#8217;
+they owned up that Jimmy&#8217;s letters wan&#8217;t
+real satisfyin&#8217; an&#8217; that they didn&#8217;t
+come often, though they always told how hard he was
+workin&#8217;.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What was queerer still, every now an&#8217;
+then I&#8217;d see his name in my weekly. I looked
+fer it, I&#8217;ll own. I run across it once in the
+&#8216;Personals,&#8217; an&#8217; after that I hunted
+the paper all through every week. He went ter parties
+an&#8217; theaters, an&#8217; seemed ter be one of
+a gay crowd that was always havin&#8217; good times.
+I didn&#8217;t say nothin&#8217; ter the Hadleys about
+all this, &#8217;course, but it bothered me lots. What
+with all these fine doin&#8217;s, an&#8217; his not
+sendin&#8217; any money home, it looked as if the old
+folks didn&#8217;t count much now, an&#8217; that his
+head had got turned sure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As time passed, things got worse an&#8217;
+worse. Sam lost two cows, an&#8217; Mis&#8217; Hadley
+grew thinner an&#8217; whiter, an&#8217; finally got
+down sick in her bed. Then I wrote. I told Jimmy purty
+plain how things was an&#8217; what I thought of him.
+I told him that there wouldn&#8217;t be any more money
+comin&#8217; from this direction (an&#8217; I meant
+ter see that there wan&#8217;t, too!), an&#8217; I
+hinted that if that &#8216;ere prize brought anythin&#8217;
+but honor, I should think &#8217;t would be a mighty
+good plan ter share it with the folks that helped
+him ter win it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was a sharp letter, an&#8217; when it was
+gone I felt &#8217;most sorry I&#8217;d sent it; an&#8217;
+when the answer come, I <i>was</i> sorry. Jimmy
+was all broke up, an&#8217; he showed it. He begged
+me ter tell him jest how his ma was; an&#8217; if
+they needed anythin&#8217;, ter get it and call on
+him. He said he wished the prize had brought him lots
+of money, but it hadn&#8217;t. He enclosed twenty-five
+dollars, however, and said he should write the folks
+not ter send him any more money, as he was goin&#8217;
+ter send it ter them now instead.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course I took the letter an&#8217; the money
+right over ter Sam, an&#8217; after they&#8217;d got
+over frettin&#8217; &#8217;cause I&#8217;d written
+at all, they took the money, an&#8217; I could see
+it made &#8217;em look ten years younger. After that
+you couldn&#8217;t come near either of &#8217;em that
+you didn&#8217;t hear how good Jimmy was an&#8217;
+how he was sendin&#8217; home money every week.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, it wan&#8217;t four months before I had
+ter write Jimmy again. Sam asked me too, this time.
+Mis&#8217; Hadley was sick again, an&#8217; Sam was
+worried. He thought Jimmy ought ter come home, but
+he didn&#8217;t like ter say so himself. He wondered
+if I wouldn&#8217;t drop him a hint. So I wrote, an&#8217;
+Jimmy wrote right away that he&#8217;d come.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We was all of a twitter, &#8217;course, then--the
+whole town. He&#8217;d got another prize--so the paper
+said--an&#8217; there was a paragraph praisin&#8217;
+up some pictures of his in the magazine. He was our
+Jimmy, an&#8217; we was proud of him, yet we couldn&#8217;t
+help wonderin&#8217; how he&#8217;d act. We wan&#8217;t
+used ter celebrities--not near to!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, he came. He was taller an&#8217; thinner
+than when he went away, an&#8217; there was a tired
+look in his eyes that went straight ter my heart.
+&#8216;Most the whole town was out ter meet him, an&#8217;
+that seemed ter bother him. He was cordial enough,
+in a way, but he seemed ter try ter avoid folks, an&#8217;
+he asked me right off ter get him &#8216;out of it.&#8217;
+I could see he wan&#8217;t hankerin&#8217; ter be
+made a lion of, so we got away soon&#8217;s we could
+an&#8217; went ter his home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You should have seen Mis&#8217; Hadley&#8217;s
+eyes when she saw him, tall an&#8217; straight in
+the doorway. And Sam--Sam cried like a baby, he was
+so proud of that boy. As fer Jimmy, his eyes jest
+shone, an&#8217; the tired look was all gone from
+them when he strode across the room an&#8217; dropped
+on his knees at his mother&#8217;s bedside with a
+kind of choking cry. I come away then, and left them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We was kind of divided about Jimmy, after that.
+We liked him, &#8217;most all of us, but we didn&#8217;t
+like his ways. He was too stand-offish, an&#8217; queer,
+an&#8217; we was all mad at the way he treated the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Twas given out that the engagement was
+broken, but we didn&#8217;t believe &#8217;t was her
+done it, &#8216;cause up ter the last minute she&#8217;d
+been runnin&#8217; down ter the house with posies
+and goodies. Then <i>he</i> came, an&#8217; she
+stopped. He didn&#8217;t go there, neither, an&#8217;,
+so far as we knew, they hadn&#8217;t seen each other
+once. The whole town was put out. We didn&#8217;t
+relish seein&#8217; her thrown off like an old glove,
+jest &#8217;cause he was somebody out in the world
+now, an&#8217; could have his pick of girls with city
+airs and furbelows. But we couldn&#8217;t do nothin&#8217;,
+&#8217;cause he he <i>was</i> good ter his folks,
+an&#8217; no mistake, an&#8217; we did like that.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mis&#8217; Hadley got better in a couple of
+weeks, an&#8217; he begun ter talk of goin&#8217;
+back. We wanted ter give him a banquet an&#8217; speeches
+and a serenade, but he wouldn&#8217;t hear a word
+of it. He wouldn&#8217;t let us tell him how pleased
+we was at his success, either. The one thing he wouldn&#8217;t
+talk about was his work, an&#8217; some got most mad,
+he was so modest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He hardly ever left the house except fer long
+walks, and it was on one of them that the accident
+happened. It was in the road right in front of the
+field where I was ploughing, so I saw it all. Bessie
+Townsend, on her little gray mare, came tearin&#8217;
+down the Townsend Hill like mad.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jimmy had stopped ter speak ter me, at the
+fence, but the next minute he was off like a shot
+up the road. He ran an&#8217; made a flyin&#8217; leap,
+an&#8217; I saw the mare rear and plunge. Then beast
+and man came down together, and I saw Bessie slide
+to the ground, landin&#8217; on her feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When I got there Bessie Townsend was sittin&#8217;
+on the ground, with Jimmy&#8217;s head in her arms,
+which I thought uncommon good of her, seein&#8217;
+the mortification he&#8217;d caused her. But when I
+saw the look in her eyes, an&#8217; in his as he opened
+them an&#8217; gazed up at her, I reckoned there might
+be more ter that love-story than most folks knew. What
+he said ter her then I don&#8217;t know, but ter me
+he said jest four words, &#8217;Don&#8217;t--tell--the--folks,&#8217; an&#8217; I didn&#8217;t rightly
+understand jest then what he meant, for surely an
+accident like that couldn&#8217;t be kept unbeknownst.
+The next minute he fell back unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was a bad business all around, an&#8217;
+from the very first there wan&#8217;t no hope. In
+a week &#8216;twas over, an&#8217; we laid poor Jimmy
+away. Two days after the funeral Sam come ter me with
+a letter. It was addressed ter Jimmy, an&#8217; the
+old man couldn&#8217;t bring himself ter open it. He
+wanted, too, that I should go on ter New York an&#8217;
+get Jimmy&#8217;s things; an&#8217; after I had opened
+the letter I said right off that I&#8217;d go. I was
+mad over that letter. It was a bill fer a suit of
+clothes, an&#8217; it asked him purty sharplike ter
+pay it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I had some trouble in New York findin&#8217;
+Jimmy&#8217;s boardin&#8217;-place. There had been
+a fire the night before, an&#8217; his landlady had
+had ter move; but at last I found her an&#8217; asked
+anxiously fer Jimmy&#8217;s things, an&#8217; if his
+pictures had been hurt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jimmy&#8217;s landlady was fat an&#8217; greasy
+an&#8217; foreign-lookin&#8217;, an&#8217; she didn&#8217;t
+seem ter understand what I was talkin&#8217; about
+till I repeated a bit sharply:--</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Yes, his pictures. I&#8217;ve come fer
+&#8217;em.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then she shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Meester Hadley did not have any pictures.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;But he must have had &#8217;em,&#8217;
+says I, &#8216;fer them papers an&#8217; magazines
+he worked for. He made &#8217;em!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She shook her head again; then she gave a queer
+hitch to her shoulders, and a little flourish with
+her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Oh--ze pictures! He did do them--once--a
+leetle: months ago.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;But the prize,&#8217; says I. &#8216;The
+prize ter James Hadley!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then she laughed as if she suddenly understood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, but it is ze grand mistake you are makin&#8217;,&#8217;
+she cried, in her silly, outlandish way of talkin&#8217;.
+&#8216;There is a Meester James Hadley, an&#8217;
+he does make pictures--beautiful pictures--but it is
+not this one. This Meester Hadley did try, long ago,
+but he failed to succeed, so my son said; an&#8217;
+he had to--to cease. For long time he has worked for
+me, for the grocer, for any one who would pay--till
+a leetle while ago. Then he left. In ze new clothes
+he had bought, he went away. Ze old ones-- burned.
+He had nothing else.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She said more, but I didn&#8217;t even listen.
+I was back with Jimmy by the roadside, and his &#8216;Don&#8217;t--tell--the--folks&#8217;
+was ringin&#8217; in my ears. I understood it then,
+the whole thing from the beginnin&#8217;; an&#8217;
+I felt dazed an&#8217; shocked, as if some one had
+struck me a blow in the face. I wan&#8217;t brought
+up ter think lyin&#8217; an&#8217; deceivin&#8217;
+was right.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I got up by an&#8217; by an&#8217; left the
+house. I paid poor Jimmy&#8217;s bill fer clothes--the
+clothes that I knew he wore when he stood tall an&#8217;
+straight in the doorway ter meet his mother&#8217;s
+adorin&#8217; eyes. Then I went home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I told Sam that Jimmy&#8217;s things got burned
+up in the fire--which was the truth. I stopped there.
+Then I went to see the girl--an&#8217; right there
+I got the surprise of my life. She knew. He had told
+her the whole thing long before he come home, an&#8217;
+insisted on givin&#8217; her up. Jest what he meant
+ter do in the end, an&#8217; how he meant ter do it,
+she didn&#8217;t know; an&#8217; she said with a great
+sob in her voice, that she didn&#8217;t believe he
+knew either. All he did know, apparently, was that
+he didn&#8217;t mean his ma should find out an&#8217;
+grieve over it--how he had failed. But whatever he
+was goin&#8217; ter do, it was taken quite out of his
+hands at the last.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As fer Bessie, now,--it seems as if she can&#8217;t
+do enough fer Sam an&#8217; Mis&#8217; Hadley, she&#8217;s
+that good ter &#8217;em; an&#8217; they set the world
+by her. She&#8217;s got a sad, proud look to her eyes,
+but Jimmy&#8217;s secret is safe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As I said, I saw old Sam an&#8217; his wife
+in the cemetery to-night. They stopped me as usual,
+an&#8217; told me all over again what a good boy Jimmy
+was, an&#8217; how smart he was, an&#8217; what a lot
+he&#8217;d made of himself in the little time he&#8217;d
+lived. The Hadleys are old an&#8217; feeble an&#8217;
+broken, an&#8217; it&#8217;s their one comfort--Jimmy&#8217;s
+success.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zeke paused, and drew a long breath. Then he
+eyed me almost defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t sayin&#8217; that Jimmy did right,
+of course; but I ain&#8217;t sayin&#8217;-- that Jimmy
+did wrong,&#8221; he finished.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_12"></a>A Summons Home</h1>
+
+<p>Mrs. Thaddeus Clayton came softly into the room and
+looked with apprehensive eyes upon the little old
+man in the rocking-chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How be ye, dearie? Yer hain&#8217;t wanted
+fer nothin&#8217;, now, have ye?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a thing, Harriet,&#8221; he returned cheerily.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m feelin&#8217; real pert, too. Was
+there lots there? An&#8217; did Parson Drew say a heap
+o&#8217; fine things?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Clayton dropped into a chair and pulled listlessly
+at the black strings of her bonnet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;T was a beautiful fun&#8217;ral, Thaddeus--a
+beautiful fun&#8217;ral. I--I &#8217;most wished it
+was mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harriet!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She gave a shamed-faced laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I did--then Jehiel and Hannah Jane would
+&#8216;a&#8217; come, an&#8217; I could &#8216;a&#8217;
+seen &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The horrified look on the old man&#8217;s face gave
+way to a broad smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Harriet--Harriet!&#8221; he chuckled, &#8220;how
+could ye seen &#8217;em if you was dead?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh? Well, I--Thaddeus,&#8221;--her voice rose
+sharply in the silent room,-- &#8220;every single
+one of them Perkins boys was there, and Annabel, too.
+Only think what poor Mis&#8217; Perkins would &#8216;a&#8217;
+given ter seen &#8217;em &#8217;fore she went! But
+they waited--<i>waited,</i> Thaddeus, jest as
+everybody does, till their folks is dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Harriet,&#8221; demurred the old man,
+&#8220;surely you&#8217;d &#8216;a&#8217; had them
+boys come ter their own mother&#8217;s fun&#8217;ral!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come! I&#8217;d &#8216;a&#8217; had &#8217;em
+come before, while Ella Perkins could &#8216;a&#8217;
+feasted her eyes on &#8217;em. Thaddeus,&#8221;--Mrs.
+Clayton rose to her feet and stretched out two gaunt
+hands longingly,--&#8220;Thaddeus, I get so hungry
+sometimes for Jehiel and Hannah Jane, seems as though
+I jest couldn&#8217;t stand it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know--I know, dearie,&#8221; quavered the
+old man, vigorously polishing his glasses.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fifty years ago my first baby came,&#8221;
+resumed the woman in tremulous tones; &#8220;then
+another came, and another, till I&#8217;d had six.
+I loved &#8217;em, an&#8217; tended &#8217;em, an&#8217;
+cared fer &#8217;em, an&#8217; didn&#8217;t have a
+thought but was fer them babies. Four died,&#8221;--her
+voice broke, then went on with renewed strength,--&#8220;but
+I&#8217;ve got Jehiel and Hannah Jane left; at least,
+I&#8217;ve got two bits of paper that comes mebbe
+once a month, an&#8217; one of &#8217;em&#8217;s signed
+&#8216;your dutiful son, Jehiel,&#8217; an&#8217; the
+other, &#8217;from your loving daughter, Hannah Jane.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, Harriet, they--they&#8217;re pretty good
+ter write letters,&#8221; ventured Mr. Clayton.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Letters!&#8221; wailed his wife. &#8220;I can&#8217;t
+hug an&#8217; kiss letters, though I try to, sometimes.
+I want warm flesh an&#8217; blood in my arms, Thaddeus;
+I want ter look down into Jehiel&#8217;s blue eyes
+an&#8217; hear him call me &#8217;dear old mumsey!&#8217;
+as he used to. I wouldn&#8217;t ask &#8217;em ter stay--I
+ain&#8217;t unreasonable, Thaddeus. I know they can&#8217;t
+do that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, wife, mebbe they&#8217;ll come--mebbe
+they&#8217;ll come this summer; who knows?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head dismally.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve said that ev&#8217;ry year for
+the last fifteen summers, an&#8217; they hain&#8217;t
+come yet. Jehiel went West more than twenty years ago,
+an&#8217; he&#8217;s never been home since. Why, Thaddeus,
+we&#8217;ve got a grandson &#8217;most eighteen, that
+we hain&#8217;t even seen! Hannah Jane&#8217;s been
+home jest once since she was married, but that was
+nigh on ter sixteen years ago. She&#8217;s always
+writin&#8217; of her Tommy and Nellie, but--I want
+ter see &#8217;em, Thaddeus; I want ter see &#8217;em!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes; well, we&#8217;ll ask &#8217;em,
+Harriet, again--we&#8217;ll ask &#8217;em real urgent--like,
+an&#8217; mebbe that&#8217;ll fetch &#8217;em,&#8221;
+comforted the old man. &#8220;We&#8217;ll ask &#8217;em
+ter be here the Fourth; that&#8217;s eight weeks off
+yet, an&#8217; I shall be real smart by then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Two letters that were certainly &#8220;urgent-like&#8221;
+left the New England farmhouse the next morning. One
+was addressed to a thriving Western city, the other
+to Chattanooga, Tennessee.</p>
+
+<p>In course of time the answers came. Hannah Jane&#8217;s
+appeared first, and was opened with shaking fingers.</p>
+
+<p><i>Dear Mother</i> [read Mrs. Clayton aloud]:
+Your letter came two or three days ago, and I have
+hurried round to answer it, for you seemed to be so
+anxious to hear. I&#8217;m real sorry, but I don&#8217;t
+see how we can get away this summer. Nathan is real
+busy at the store; and, some way, I can&#8217;t seem
+to get up energy enough to even think of fixing up
+the children to take them so far. Thank you for the
+invitation, though, and we should enjoy the visit
+very much; but I guess we can&#8217;t go just yet.
+Of course if anything serious should come up that made
+it necessary-- why, that would be different: but I
+know you are sensible, and will understand how it
+is with us.</p>
+
+<p>Nathan is well, but business has been pretty brisk,
+and he is in the store early and late. As long as
+he&#8217;s making money, he don&#8217;t mind; but I
+tell him I think he might rest a little sometimes,
+and let some one else do the things he does.</p>
+
+<p>Tom is a big boy now, smart in his studies and with
+a good head for figures. Nellie loves her books, too;
+and, for a little girl of eleven, does pretty well,
+we think.</p>
+
+<p>I must close now. We all send love, and hope you are
+getting along all right. Was glad to hear father was
+gaining so fast.</p>
+
+<p>Your loving daughter</p>
+
+<p style="font-variant: small-caps; text-align: right">Hannah Jane</p>
+
+<p>The letter dropped from Mrs. Clayton&#8217;s fingers
+and lay unheeded on the floor. The woman covered her
+face with her hands and rocked her body back and forth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dearie,&#8221; soothed the old
+man huskily; &#8220;mebbe Jehiel&#8217;s will be diff&#8217;rent.
+I shouldn&#8217;t wonder, now, if Jehiel would come.
+There, there! don&#8217;t take on so, Harriet! don&#8217;t!
+I jest know Jehiel&#8217;ll come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A week later Mrs. Clayton found another letter in
+the rural delivery box. She clutched it nervously,
+peered at the writing with her dim old eyes, and hurried
+into the house for her glasses.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, it was from Jehiel.</p>
+
+<p>She drew a long breath. Her eager thumb was almost
+under the flap of the envelope when she hesitated,
+eyed the letter uncertainly, and thrust it into the
+pocket of her calico gown. All day it lay there, save
+at times-- which, indeed, were of frequent occurrence--when
+she took it from its hiding-place, pressed it to her
+cheek, or gloried in every curve of the boldly written
+address.</p>
+
+<p>At night, after the lamp was lighted, she said to
+her husband in tones so low he could scarcely hear:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thaddeus, I--I had a letter from Jehiel to-day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You did--and never told me? Why, Harriet, what--&#8221;
+He paused helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I haven&#8217;t read it, Thaddeus,&#8221;
+she stammered. &#8220;I couldn&#8217;t bear to, someway.
+I don&#8217;t know why, but I couldn&#8217;t. You read
+it!&#8221; She held out the letter with shaking hands.</p>
+
+<p>He took it, giving her a sharp glance from anxious
+eyes. As he began to read aloud she checked him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No; ter yerself, Thaddeus--ter yerself! Then--tell
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As he read she watched his face. The light died from
+her eyes and her chin quivered as she saw the stern
+lines deepen around his mouth. A minute more, and
+he had finished the letter and laid it down without
+a word.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thaddeus, ye don&#8217;t mean--he didn&#8217;t
+say--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Read it--I--I can&#8217;t,&#8221; choked the
+old man.</p>
+
+<p>She reached slowly for the sheet of paper and spread
+it on the table before her.</p>
+
+<p><i>Dear Mother</i> [Jehiel had written]: Just
+a word to tell you we are all O. K. and doing finely.
+Your letter reminded me that it was about time I was
+writing home to the old folks. I don&#8217;t mean to
+let so many weeks go by without a letter from me,
+but somehow the time just gets away from me before
+I know it.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie is well and deep in spring sewing and house-cleaning.
+I know-- because dressmaker&#8217;s bills are beginning
+to come in, and every time I go home I find a carpet
+up in a new place!</p>
+
+<p>Our boy Fred is eighteen to-morrow. You&#8217;d be
+proud of him, I know, if you could see him. Business
+is rushing. Glad to hear you&#8217;re all right and
+that father&#8217;s rheumatism is on the gain.</p>
+
+<p>As ever, your affectionate and dutiful son, JEHIEL</p>
+
+<p>Oh, by the way--about that visit East. I reckon we&#8217;ll
+have to call it off this year. Too bad; but can&#8217;t
+seem to see my way clear.</p>
+
+<p>Bye-bye, J.</p>
+
+<p>Harriet Clayton did not cry this time. She stared
+at the letter long minutes with wide-open, tearless
+eyes, then she slowly folded it and put it back in
+its envelope.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harriet, mebbe-&#8221; began the old man timidly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t, Thaddeus--please don&#8217;t!&#8221;
+she interrupted. &#8220;I--I don&#8217;t want ter
+talk.&#8221; And she rose unsteadily to her feet and
+moved toward the kitchen door.</p>
+
+<p>For a time Mrs. Clayton went about her work in a silence
+quite unusual, while her husband watched her with
+troubled eyes. His heart grieved over the bowed head
+and drooping shoulders, and over the blurred eyes that
+were so often surreptitiously wiped on a corner of
+the gingham apron. But at the end of a week the little
+old woman accosted him with a face full of aggressive
+yet anxious determination.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thaddeus, I want ter speak ter you about somethin&#8217;.
+I&#8217;ve been thinkin&#8217; it all out, an&#8217;
+I&#8217;ve decided that I&#8217;ve got ter kill one
+of us off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harriet!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I have. A fun&#8217;ral is the only thing
+that will fetch Jehiel and--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harriet, are ye gone crazy? Have ye gone clean
+mad?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him appealingly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, Thaddeus, don&#8217;t try ter hender me,
+please. You see it&#8217;s the only way. A fun&#8217;ral
+is the--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A &#8217;fun&#8217;ral&#8217;--it&#8217;s murder!&#8221;
+he shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, not ter make believe, as I shall,&#8221;
+she protested eagerly. &#8220;It&#8217;s--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Make believe!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes, of course. <i>You&#8217;ll</i>
+have ter be the one ter do it, &#8216;cause I&#8217;m
+goin&#8217; ter be the dead one, an&#8217;--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harriet!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, <i>please,</i> Thaddeus!
+I&#8217;ve jest got ter see Jehiel and Hannah Jane
+&#8217;fore I die!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But--they--they&#8217;ll come if--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, they won&#8217;t come. We&#8217;ve tried
+it over an&#8217; over again; you know we have. Hannah
+Jane herself said that if anythin&#8217; &#8216;serious&#8217;
+came up it would be diff&#8217;rent. Well, I&#8217;m
+goin&#8217; ter have somethin&#8217; &#8216;serious&#8217;
+come up!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Harriet--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, Thaddeus,&#8221; begged the woman, almost
+crying, &#8220;you must help me, dear. I&#8217;ve
+thought it all out, an&#8217; it&#8217;s easy as can
+be. I shan&#8217;t tell any lies, of course. I cut
+my finger to-day, didn&#8217;t I?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why--yes--I believe so,&#8221; he acknowledged
+dazedly; &#8220;but what has that to do--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the &#8216;accident,&#8217; Thaddeus.
+You&#8217;re ter send two telegrams at once-- one
+ter Jehiel, an&#8217; one ter Hannah Jane. The telegrams
+will say: &#8216;Accident to your mother. Funeral
+Saturday afternoon. Come at once.&#8217; That&#8217;s
+jest ten words.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man gasped. He could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, that&#8217;s all true, ain&#8217;t it?&#8221;
+she asked anxiously. &#8220;The &#8216;accident&#8217;
+is this cut. The &#8216;fun&#8217;ral&#8217; is old
+Mis&#8217; Wentworth&#8217;s. I heard ter-day that
+they couldn&#8217;t have it until Saturday, so that&#8217;ll
+give us plenty of time ter get the folks here. I needn&#8217;t
+say whose fun&#8217;ral it is that&#8217;s goin&#8217;
+ter be on Saturday, Thaddeus! I want yer ter hitch
+up an&#8217; drive over ter Hopkinsville ter send
+the telegrams. The man&#8217;s new over there, an&#8217;
+won&#8217;t know yer. You couldn&#8217;t send &#8217;em
+from here, of course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thaddeus Clayton never knew just how he allowed himself
+to be persuaded to take his part in this &#8220;crazy
+scheme,&#8221; as he termed it, but persuaded he certainly
+was.</p>
+
+<p>It was a miserable time for Thaddeus then. First there
+was that hurried drive to Hopkinsville. Though the
+day was warm he fairly shivered as he handed those
+two fateful telegrams to the man behind the counter.
+Then there was the homeward trip, during which, like
+the guilty thing he was, he cast furtive glances from
+side to side.</p>
+
+<p>Even home itself came to be a misery, for the sweeping
+and the dusting and the baking and the brewing which
+he encountered there left him no place to call his
+own, so that he lost his patience at last and moaned:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seems ter me, Harriet, you&#8217;re a pretty
+lively corpse!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His wife smiled, and flushed a little.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dear! don&#8217;t fret. Jest
+think how glad we&#8217;ll be ter see &#8217;em!&#8221;
+she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Harriet was blissfully happy. Both the children had
+promptly responded to the telegrams, and were now
+on their way. Hannah Jane, with her husband and two
+children, were expected on Friday evening; but Jehiel
+and his wife and boy could not possibly get in until
+early on the following morning.</p>
+
+<p>All this brought scant joy to Thaddeus. There was
+always hanging over him the dread horror of what he
+had done, and the fearful questioning as to how it
+was all going to end.</p>
+
+<p>Friday came, but a telegram at the last moment told
+of trains delayed and connections missed. Hannah Jane
+would not reach home until nine-forty the next morning.
+So it was with a four-seated carryall that Thaddeus
+Clayton started for the station on Saturday morning
+to meet both of his children and their families.</p>
+
+<p>The ride home was a silent one; but once inside the
+house, Jehiel and Hannah Jane, amid a storm of sobs
+and cries, besieged their father with questions.</p>
+
+<p>The family were all in the darkened sitting-room--all,
+indeed, save Harriet, who sat in solitary state in
+the chamber above, her face pale and her heart beating
+almost to suffocation. It had been arranged that she
+was not to be seen until some sort of explanation had
+been given.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Father, what was it?&#8221; sobbed Hannah Jane.
+&#8220;How did it happen?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It must have been so sudden,&#8221; faltered
+Jehiel. &#8220;It cut me up completely.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t ever forgive myself,&#8221; moaned
+Hannah Jane hysterically. &#8220;She wanted us to
+come East, and I wouldn&#8217;t. &#8217;Twas my selfishness--&#8217;twas
+easier to stay where I was; and now--now--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve been brutes, father,&#8221; cut
+in Jehiel, with a shake in his voice; &#8220;all of
+us. I never thought--I never dreamed-father, can--can
+we see-- her?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the chamber above a woman sprang to her feet. Harriet
+had quite forgotten the stove-pipe hole to the room
+below, and every sob and moan and wailing cry had
+been woefully distinct to her ears. With streaming
+eyes and quivering lips she hurried down the stairs
+and threw open the sitting-room door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jehiel! Hannah Jane! I&#8217;m here, right
+here--alive!&#8221; she cried. &#8220;An&#8217; I&#8217;ve
+been a wicked, wicked woman! I never thought how bad
+&#8216;twas goin&#8217; ter make <i>you</i> feel.
+I truly never, never did. &#8217;Twas only myself--I
+wanted yer so. Oh, children, children, I&#8217;ve been
+so wicked--so awful wicked!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jehiel and Hannah Jane were steady of head and strong
+of heartland joy, it is said, never kills; otherwise,
+the results of that sudden apparition in the sitting-room
+doorway might have been disastrous.</p>
+
+<p>As it was, a wonderfully happy family party gathered
+around the table an hour later; and as Jehiel led
+a tremulous, gray-haired woman to the seat of honor,
+he looked into her shining eyes and whispered:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear old mumsey, now that we&#8217;ve found
+the way home again, I reckon we&#8217;ll be coming
+every year--don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_13"></a>The Black Silk Gowns</h1>
+
+<p>The Heath twins, Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia, rose
+early that morning, and the world looked very beautiful
+to them--one does not buy a black silk gown every
+day; at least, Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia did
+not. They had waited, indeed, quite forty years to
+buy this one.</p>
+
+<p>The women of the Heath family had always possessed
+a black silk gown. It was a sort of outward symbol
+of inward respectability--an unfailing indicator of
+their proud position as members of one of the old families.
+It might be donned at any time after one&#8217;s twenty-first
+birthday, and it should be donned always for funerals,
+church, and calls after one had turned thirty. Such
+had been the code of the Heath family for generations,
+as Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia well knew; and it
+was this that had made all the harder their own fate--that
+their twenty-first birthday was now forty years behind
+them, and not yet had either of them attained this
+<i>cachet</i> of respectability.</p>
+
+<p>To-day, however, there was to come a change. No longer
+need the carefully sponged and darned black alpaca
+gowns flaunt their wearers&#8217; poverty to the world,
+and no longer would they force these same wearers
+to seek dark corners and sunless rooms, lest the full
+extent of that poverty become known. It had taken
+forty years of the most rigid economy to save the
+necessary money; but it was saved now, and the dresses
+were to be bought. Long ago there had been enough
+for one, but neither of the women had so much as thought
+of the possibility of buying one silk gown. It was
+sometimes said in the town that if one of the Heath
+twins strained her eyes, the other one was obliged
+at once to put on glasses; and it is not to be supposed
+that two sisters whose sympathies were so delicately
+attuned would consent to appear clad one in new silk
+and the other in old alpaca.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of their early rising that morning, it was
+quite ten o&#8217;clock before Miss Priscilla and
+Miss Amelia had brought the house into the state of
+speckless nicety that would not shame the lustrous
+things that were so soon to be sheltered beneath its
+roof. Not that either of the ladies expressed this
+sentiment in words, or even in their thoughts; they
+merely went about their work that morning with the
+reverent joy that a devoted priestess might feel in
+making ready a shrine for its idol. They had to hurry
+a little to get themselves ready for the eleven o&#8217;clock
+stage that passed their door; and they were still a
+little breathless when they boarded the train at the
+home station for the city twenty miles away--the city
+where were countless yards of shimmering silk waiting
+to be bought.</p>
+
+<p>In the city that night at least six clerks went home
+with an unusual weariness in their arms, which came
+from lifting down and displaying almost their entire
+stock of black silk. But with all the weariness, there
+was no irritation; there was only in their nostrils
+a curious perfume as of lavender and old lace, and
+in their hearts a strange exaltation as if they had
+that day been allowed a glad part in a sacred rite.
+As for Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia, they went home
+awed, yet triumphant: when one has waited forty years
+to make a purchase one does not make that purchase
+lightly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To-morrow we will go over to Mis&#8217; Snow&#8217;s
+and see about having them made up,&#8221; said Miss
+Priscilla with a sigh of content, as the stage lumbered
+through the dusty home streets.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; we want them rich, but plain,&#8221; supplemented
+Miss Amelia, rapturously. &#8220;Dear me, Priscilla,
+but I am tired!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In spite of their weariness the sisters did not get
+to bed very early that night. They could not decide
+whether the top drawer of the spare-room bureau or
+the long box in the parlor closet would be the safer
+refuge for their treasure. And when the matter was
+decided, and the sisters had gone to bed, Miss Priscilla,
+after a prolonged discussion, got up and moved the
+silk to the other place, only to slip out of bed later,
+after a much longer discussion, and put it back. Even
+then they did not sleep well: for the first time in
+their lives they knew the responsibility that comes
+with possessions; they feared--burglars.</p>
+
+<p>With the morning sun, however, came peace and joy.
+No moth nor rust nor thief had appeared, and the lustrous
+lengths of shimmering silk defied the sun itself to
+find spot or blemish.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It looks even nicer than it did in the store,
+don&#8217;t it?&#8221; murmured Miss Priscilla, ecstatically,
+as she hovered over the glistening folds that she
+had draped in riotous luxury across the chair-back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,--oh, yes!&#8221; breathed Miss Amelia.
+&#8220;Now let&#8217;s hurry with the work so we can
+go right down to Mis&#8217; Snow&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><i>"Black</i> silk-<i>black</i> silk!&#8221;
+ticked the clock to Miss Priscilla washing dishes
+at the kitchen sink.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got a black <i>silk!</i>
+You&#8217;ve <i>got</i> a black <i>silk!"</i>
+chirped the robins to Miss Amelia looking for weeds
+in the garden.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o&#8217;clock the sisters left the house, each
+with a long brown parcel carefully borne in her arms.
+At noon--at noon the sisters were back again, still
+carrying the parcels. Their faces wore a look of mingled
+triumph and defeat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As if we <i>could</i> have that beautiful
+silk put into a <i>plaited</i> skirt!&#8221;
+quavered Miss Priscilla, thrusting the key into the
+lock with a trembling hand. &#8220;Why, Amelia, plaits
+always crack!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course they do!&#8221; almost sobbed Miss
+Amelia. &#8220;Only think of it, Priscilla, our silk--<i>cracked!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We will just wait until the styles change,&#8221;
+said Miss Priscilla, with an air of finality. &#8220;They
+won&#8217;t always wear plaits!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And we know all the time that we&#8217;ve really
+got the dresses, only they aren&#8217;t made up!&#8221;
+finished Miss Amelia, in tearful triumph.</p>
+
+<p>So the silk was laid away in two big rolls, and for
+another year the old black alpaca gowns trailed across
+the town&#8217;s thresholds and down the aisle of
+the church on Sunday. Their owners no longer sought
+shadowed corners and sunless rooms, however; it was
+not as if one were <i>obliged</i> to wear sponged
+and darned alpacas!</p>
+
+<p>Plaits were &#8220;out&#8221; next year, and the Heath
+sisters were among the first to read it in the fashion
+notes. Once more on a bright spring morning Miss Priscilla
+and Miss Amelia left the house tenderly bearing in
+their arms the brown-paper parcels--and once more
+they returned, the brown parcels still in their arms.
+There was an air of indecision about them this time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see, Amelia, it seemed foolish--almost
+wicked,&#8221; Miss Priscilla was saying, &#8220;to
+put such a lot of that expensive silk into just sleeves.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it,&#8221; sighed her sister.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course I want the dresses just as much as
+you do,&#8221; went on Miss Priscilla, more confidently;
+&#8220;but when I thought of allowing Mis&#8217; Snow
+to slash into that beautiful silk and just waste it
+on those great balloon sleeves, I--I simply couldn&#8217;t
+give my consent!--and &#8217;tisn&#8217;t as though
+we hadn&#8217;t <i>got</i> the dresses!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, indeed!&#8221; agreed Miss Amelia, lifting
+her chin. And so once more the rolls of black silk
+were laid away in the great box that had already held
+them a year; and for another twelve months the black
+alpacas, now grown shabby indeed, were worn with all
+the pride of one whose garments are beyond reproach.</p>
+
+<p>When for the third time Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia
+returned to their home with the oblong brown parcels
+there was no indecision about them; there was only
+righteous scorn.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And do you really think that Mis&#8217; Snow
+<i>expected</i> us to allow that silk to be cut
+up into those skimpy little skin-tight bags she called
+skirts?&#8221; demanded Miss Priscilla, in a shaking
+voice. &#8220;Why, Amelia, we couldn&#8217;t ever
+make them over!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course we couldn&#8217;t! And when skirts
+got bigger, what could we do?&#8221; cried Miss Amelia.
+&#8220;Why, I&#8217;d rather never have a black silk
+dress than to have one like that--that just couldn&#8217;t
+be changed! We&#8217;ll go on wearing the gowns we
+have. It isn&#8217;t as if everybody didn&#8217;t know
+we had these black silk dresses!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When the fourth spring came the rolls of silk were
+not even taken from their box except to be examined
+with tender care and replaced in the enveloping paper.
+Miss Priscilla was not well. For weeks she had spent
+most of her waking hours on the sitting-room couch,
+growing thiner, weaker, and more hollow-eyed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see, dear, I--I am not well enough now
+to wear it,&#8221; she said faintly to her sister
+one day when they had been talking about the black
+silk gowns; &#8220;but you--&#8221; Miss Amelia had
+stopped her with a shocked gesture of the hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Priscilla--as if I could!&#8221; she sobbed.
+And there the matter had ended.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>The townspeople were grieved, but not surprised, when
+they learned that Miss Amelia was fast following her
+sister into a decline. It was what they had expected
+of the Heath twins, they said, and they reminded one
+another of the story of the strained eyes and the glasses.
+Then came the day when the little dressmaker&#8217;s
+rooms were littered from end to end with black silk
+scraps.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s for Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia,&#8217;&#8221;
+said Mrs. Snow, with tears in her eyes, in answer
+to the questions that were asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s their black silk gowns, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I thought they were ill--almost dying!&#8221;
+gasped the questioner.</p>
+
+<p>The little dressmaker nodded her head. Then she smiled,
+even while she brushed her eyes with her fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They are--but they&#8217;re happy. They&#8217;re
+even happy in this!&#8221; touching the dress in her
+lap. &#8220;They&#8217;ve been forty years buying it,
+and four making it up. Never until now could they
+decide to use it; never until now could they be sure
+they wouldn&#8217;t want to--to make it--over.&#8221;
+The little dressmaker&#8217;s voice broke, then went
+on tremulously: &#8220;There are folks like that,
+you know--that never enjoy a thing for what it is,
+lest sometime they might want it--different. Miss
+Priscilla and Miss Amelia never took the good that
+was goin&#8217;; they&#8217;ve always saved it for
+sometime--later.&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_14"></a>A Belated Honeymoon</h1>
+
+<p>The haze of a warm September day hung low over the
+house, the garden, and the dust-white road. On the
+side veranda a gray-haired, erect little figure sat
+knitting. After a time the needles began to move more
+and more slowly until at last they lay idle in the
+motionless, withered fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, Abby, takin&#8217; a nap?&#8221;
+demanded a thin-chested, wiry old man coming around
+the corner of the house and seating himself on the
+veranda steps.</p>
+
+<p>The little old woman gave a guilty start and began
+to knit vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear me, no, Hezekiah. I was thinkin&#8217;.&#8221;
+She hesitated a moment, then added, a little feverishly:
+&#8220;--it&#8217;s ever so much cooler here than up
+ter the fair grounds now, ain&#8217;t it, Hezekiah?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man threw a sharp look at her face. &#8220;Hm-m,
+yes,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Mebbe &#8217;t is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>From far down the road came the clang of a bell. As
+by common consent the old man and his wife got to
+their feet and hurried to the front of the house where
+they could best see the trolley-car as it rounded a
+curve and crossed the road at right angles.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Goes slick, don&#8217;t it?&#8221; murmured
+the man.</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer. The woman&#8217;s eyes were hungrily
+devouring the last glimpse of paint and polish.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; we hain&#8217;t been on &#8217;em
+&#8217;t all yet, have we, Abby?&#8221; he continued.</p>
+
+<p>She drew a long breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, ye see, I--I hain&#8217;t had time, Hezekiah,&#8221;
+she rejoined apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; muttered the old man as they
+turned and walked back to their seats.</p>
+
+<p>For a time neither spoke, then Hezekiah Warden cleared
+his throat determinedly and faced his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look a&#8217; here, Abby,&#8221; he began,
+&#8220;I&#8217;m agoin&#8217; ter say somethin&#8217;
+that has been &#8216;most tumblin&#8217; off&#8217;n
+the end of my tongue fer mor&#8217;n a year. Jennie
+an&#8217; Frank are good an&#8217; kind an&#8217; they
+mean well, but they think &#8217;cause our hair&#8217;s
+white an&#8217; our feet ain&#8217;t quite so lively
+as they once was, that we&#8217;re jest as good as
+buried already, an&#8217; that we don&#8217;t need
+anythin&#8217; more excitin&#8217; than a nap in the
+sun. Now, Abby, <i>didn&#8217;t</i> ye want ter
+go ter that fair with the folks ter-day? Didn&#8217;t
+ye?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A swift flush came into the woman&#8217;s cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Hezekiah, it&#8217;s ever so much cooler
+here, an&#8217;--&#8221; she paused helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; retorted the man, &#8220;I thought
+as much. It&#8217;s always &#8216;nice an&#8217; cool&#8217;
+here in summer an&#8217; &#8216;nice an&#8217; warm&#8217;
+here in winter when Jennie goes somewheres that you
+want ter go an&#8217; don&#8217;t take ye. An&#8217;
+when &#8217;t ain&#8217;t that, you say you &#8216;hain&#8217;t
+had time.&#8217; I know ye! You&#8217;d talk any way
+ter hide their selfishness. Look a&#8217; here, Abby,
+did ye ever ride in them &#8217;lectric-cars? I mean
+anywheres?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I hain&#8217;t neither, an&#8217;, by
+ginger, I&#8217;m agoin&#8217; to!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Hezekiah, Hezekiah, don&#8217;t--swear!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I tell ye, Abby, I will swear. It&#8217;s a
+swearin&#8217; matter. Ever since I heard of &#8217;em
+I wanted ter try &#8217;em. An&#8217; here they are
+now &#8217;most ter my own door an&#8217; I hain&#8217;t
+even been in &#8217;em once. Look a&#8217; here, Abby,
+jest because we&#8217;re &#8217;most eighty ain&#8217;t
+no sign we&#8217;ve lost int&#8217;rest in things.
+I&#8217;m spry as a cricket, an&#8217; so be you, yet
+Frank an&#8217; Jennie expect us ter stay cooped up
+here as if we was old--really old, ninety or a hundred,
+ye know--an&#8217; &#8217;t ain&#8217;t fair. Why,
+we <i>will</i> be old one of these days!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it, Hezekiah.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We couldn&#8217;t go much when we was younger,&#8221;
+he resumed. &#8220;Even our weddin&#8217; trip was
+chopped right off short &#8217;fore it even begun.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A tender light came into the dim old eyes opposite.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, dear, an&#8217; what plans we had!&#8221;
+cried Abigail; &#8220;Boston, an&#8217; Bunker Hill,
+an&#8217; Faneuil Hall.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man suddenly squared his shoulders and threw
+back his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Abby, look a&#8217; here! Do ye remember that
+money I&#8217;ve been savin&#8217; off an&#8217; on
+when I could git a dollar here an&#8217; there that
+was extra? Well, there&#8217;s as much as ten of &#8217;em
+now, an&#8217; I&#8217;m agoin&#8217; ter spend &#8217;em--all
+of &#8217;em mebbe. I&#8217;m <i>agoin&#8217;</i>
+ter ride in them &#8216;lectric-cars, an&#8217; so
+be you. An&#8217; I ain&#8217;t goin&#8217; ter no
+old country fair, neither, an&#8217; no more be you.
+Look a&#8217; here, Abby, the folks are goin&#8217;
+again ter-morrer ter the fair, ain&#8217;t they?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Abigail nodded mutely. Her eyes were beginning to
+shine.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; resumed Hezekiah, &#8220;when
+they go we&#8217;ll be settin&#8217; in the sun where
+they say we&#8217;d oughter be. But we ain&#8217;t
+agoin&#8217; ter stay there, Abby. We&#8217;re goin&#8217;
+down the road an&#8217; git on them &#8216;lectric-cars,
+an&#8217; when we git ter the Junction we&#8217;re
+agoin&#8217; ter take the steam cars fer Boston. What
+if &#8217;tis thirty miles! I calc&#8217;late we&#8217;re
+equal to &#8217;em. We&#8217;ll have one good time,
+an&#8217; we won&#8217;t come home until in the evenin&#8217;.
+We&#8217;ll see Faneuil Hall an&#8217; Bunker Hill,
+an&#8217; you shall buy a new cap, an&#8217; ride in
+the subway. If there&#8217;s a preachin&#8217; service
+we&#8217;ll go ter that. They have &#8217;em sometimes
+weekdays, ye know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Hezekiah, we--couldn&#8217;t!&#8221; gasped
+the little old woman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pooh! &#8217;Course we could. Listen!&#8221;
+And Hezekiah proceeded to unfold his plans more in
+detail.</p>
+
+<p>It was very early the next morning when the household
+awoke. By seven o&#8217;clock a two-seated carryall
+was drawn up to the side-door, and by a quarter past
+the carryall, bearing Jennie, Frank, the boys, and
+the lunch baskets, rumbled out of the yard and on
+to the high-way.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, keep quiet and don&#8217;t get heated,
+mother,&#8221; cautioned Jennie, looking back at the
+little gray-haired woman standing all alone on the
+side veranda.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Find a good cool spot to smoke your pipe in,
+father,&#8221; called Frank, as an old man appeared
+in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>There followed a shout, a clatter, and a cloud of
+dust--then silence. Fifteen minutes later, hand in
+hand, a little old man and a little old woman walked
+down the white road together.</p>
+
+<p>To most of the passengers on the trolley-car that
+day the trip was merely a necessary means to an end;
+to the old couple on the front seat it was something
+to be remembered and lived over all their lives. Even
+at the Junction the spell of unreality was so potent
+that the man forgot things so trivial as tickets,
+and marched into the car with head erect and eyes
+fixed straight ahead.</p>
+
+<p>It was after Hezekiah had taken out the roll of bills--all
+ones--to pay the fares to the conductor that a young
+man in a tall hat sauntered down the aisle and dropped
+into the seat in front.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Going to Boston, I take it,&#8221; said the
+young man genially.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir,&#8221; replied Hezehiah, no less
+genially. &#8220;Ye guessed right the first time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Abigail lifted a cautious hand to her hair and her
+bonnet. So handsome and well-dressed a man would notice
+the slightest thing awry, she thought.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m,&#8221; smiled the stranger. &#8220;I
+was so successful that time, suppose I try my luck
+again.--You don&#8217;t go every day, I fancy, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sugar! How&#8217;d he know that, now?&#8221;
+chuckled Hezekiah, turning to his wife in open glee.
+&#8220;So we don&#8217;t, stranger, so we don&#8217;t,&#8221;
+he added, turning back to the man. &#8220;Ye hit it
+plumb right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m! great place, Boston,&#8221; observed
+the stranger. &#8220;I&#8217;m glad you&#8217;re going.
+I think you&#8217;ll enjoy it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The two wrinkled old faces before him fairly beamed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thank ye, sir,&#8221; said Hezekiah heartily.
+&#8220;I call that mighty kind of ye, specially as
+there are them that thinks we&#8217;re too old ter
+be enj&#8217;yin&#8217; of anythin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Old? Of course you&#8217;re not too old! Why,
+you&#8217;re just in the prime to enjoy things,&#8221;
+cried the handsome man, and in the sunshine of his
+dazzling smile the hearts of the little old man and
+woman quite melted within them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank ye, sir, thank ye sir,&#8221; nodded
+Abigail, while Hezekiah offered his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shake, stranger, shake! An&#8217; I ain&#8217;t
+too old, an&#8217; I&#8217;m agoin&#8217; ter prove
+it. I&#8217;ve got money, sir, heaps of it, an&#8217;
+I&#8217;m goin&#8217; ter spend it--mebbe I&#8217;ll
+spend it all. We&#8217;re agoin&#8217; ter see Bunker
+Hill an&#8217; Faneuil Hall, an&#8217; we&#8217;re
+agoin&#8217; ter ride in the subway. Now, don&#8217;t
+tell me we don&#8217;t know how ter enj&#8217;y ourselves!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was a very simple matter after that. On the one
+hand were infinite tact and skill; on the other, innocence,
+ignorance, and an overwhelming gratitude for this
+sympathetic companionship.</p>
+
+<p>Long before Boston was reached Mr. and Mrs. Warden
+and &#8220;Mr. Livingstone&#8221; were on the best
+of terms, and when they separated at the foot of the
+car-steps, to the old man and woman it seemed that
+half their joy and all their courage went with the
+smiling man who lifted his hat in farewell before
+being lost to sight in the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, Abby, we&#8217;re here!&#8221; announced
+Hezekiah with an exultation that was a little forced.
+&#8220;Gorry! There must be somethin&#8217; goin&#8217;
+on ter-day,&#8221; he added, as he followed the long
+line of people down the narrow passage between the
+cars.</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply. Abigail&#8217;s cheeks were pink
+and her bonnet-strings untied. Her eyes, wide opened
+and frightened, were fixed on the swaying, bobbing
+crowds ahead. In the great waiting-room she caught
+her husband&#8217;s arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hezekiah, we can&#8217;t, we mustn&#8217;t
+ter-day,&#8221; she whispered. &#8220;There&#8217;s
+such a crowd. Let&#8217;s go home an&#8217; come when
+it&#8217;s quieter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Abby, we--here, let&#8217;s set down,&#8221;
+Hezekiah finished helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>Near one of the outer doors Mr. Livingstone--better
+known to his friends and the police as &#8220;Slick
+Bill&#8221;--smiled behind his hand. Not once since
+he had left them had Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Warden been
+out of his sight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s up, Bill? Need assistance?&#8221;
+demanded a voice at his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jim, by all that&#8217;s lucky!&#8221; cried
+Livingstone, turning to greet a dapper little man
+in gray. &#8220;Sure I need you! It&#8217;s a peach,
+though I doubt if we get much but fun, but there&#8217;ll
+be enough of that to make up. Oh, he&#8217;s got money--&#8217;heaps
+of it,&#8217; he says,&#8221; laughed Livingstone,
+&#8220;and I saw a roll of bills myself. But I advise
+you not to count too much on that, though it&#8217;ll
+be easy enough to get what there is, all right. As
+for the fun, Jim, look over by that post near the
+parcel window.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Great Scott! Where&#8217;d you pick &#8217;em?&#8221;
+chuckled the younger man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind,&#8221; returned the other with
+a shrug. &#8220;Meet me at Clyde&#8217;s in half an
+hour. We&#8217;ll be there, never fear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Over by the parcel-room an old man looked about him
+with anxious eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Abby, don&#8217;t ye see?&#8221; he urged.
+&#8220;We&#8217;ve come so fer, seems as though we
+oughter do the rest all right. Now, you jest set here
+an&#8217; let me go an&#8217; find out how ter git
+there. We&#8217;ll try fer Bunker Hill first, &#8217;cause
+we want ter see the munurmunt sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He rose to his feet only to be pulled back by his
+wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hezekiah Warden!&#8221; she almost sobbed.
+&#8220;If you dare ter stir ten feet away from me
+I&#8217;ll never furgive ye as long as I live. We&#8217;d
+never find each other ag&#8217;in!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, Abby,&#8221; soothed the man with
+grim humor, &#8220;if we never found each other ag&#8217;in,
+I don&#8217;t see as &#8217;twould make much diff&#8217;rence
+whether ye furgived me or not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For another long minute they silently watched the
+crowd. Then Hezekiah squared his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, come, Abby,&#8221; he said, &#8220;this
+ain&#8217;t no way ter do. Only think how we wanted
+ter git here an&#8217; now we&#8217;re here an&#8217;
+don&#8217;t dare ter stir. There ain&#8217;t any less
+folks than there was--growin&#8217; worse, if anythin&#8217;--but
+I&#8217;m gittin&#8217; used ter &#8217;em now, an&#8217;
+I&#8217;m goin&#8217; ter make a break. Come, what
+would Mr. Livin&#8217;stone say if he could see us
+now? Where&#8217;d he think our boastin&#8217; was
+about our bein&#8217; able ter enj&#8217;y ourselves?
+Come!&#8221; And once more he rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>This time he was not held back. The little woman at
+his side adjusted her bonnet, tilted up her chin,
+and in her turn rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure enough!&#8221; she quavered bravely. &#8220;Come,
+Hezekiah, we&#8217;ll ask the way ter Bunker Hill.&#8221;
+And, holding fast to her husband&#8217;s coat sleeve,
+she tripped across the floor to one of the outer doors.</p>
+
+<p>On the sidewalk Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Warden came
+once more to a halt. Before them swept an endless
+stream of cars, carriages, and people. Above thundered
+the elevated railway cars.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh-h,&#8221; shuddered Abigail and tightened
+her grasp on her husband&#8217;s coat.</p>
+
+<p>It was some minutes before Hezekiah&#8217;s dry tongue
+and lips could frame his question, and then his words
+were so low-spoken and indistinct that the first two
+men he asked did not hear. The third man frowned and
+pointed to a policeman. The fourth snapped: &#8220;Take
+the elevated for Charlestown or the trolley-cars,
+either;&#8221; all of which served but to puzzle Hezekiah
+the more.</p>
+
+<p>Little by little the dazed old man and his wife fell
+back before the jostling crowds. They were quite against
+the side of the building when Livingstone spoke to
+them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, if here aren&#8217;t my friends
+again!&#8221; he exclaimed cordially.</p>
+
+<p>There was something of the fierceness of a drowning
+man in the way Hezekiah took hold of that hand.</p>
+
+<p><i>"Mr. Livin&#8217;stone!"</i> he cried; then
+he recollected himself. &#8220;We was jest goin&#8217;
+ter Bunker Hill,&#8221; he said jauntily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; smiled Livingstone. &#8220;But
+your luncheon--aren&#8217;t you hungry? Come with
+me; I was just going to get mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you--I--&#8221; Hezekiah paused and looked
+doubtingly at his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, my dear Mrs. Warden, you&#8217;ll say
+&#8216;Yes,&#8217; I know,&#8221; urged Livingstone
+suavely. &#8220;Only think how good a nice cup of tea
+would taste now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, but--&#8221; She glanced at her husband.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense! Of course you&#8217;ll come,&#8221;
+insisted Livingstone, laying a gently compelling hand
+on the arm of each.</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen minutes later Hezekiah stood looking about
+him with wondering eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, Abby, ain&#8217;t this slick?&#8221;
+he cried.</p>
+
+<p>His wife did not reply. The mirrors, the lights, the
+gleaming silver and glass had filled her with a delight
+too great for words. She was vaguely conscious of
+her husband, of Mr. Livingstone, and of a smooth-shaven
+little man in gray who was presented as &#8220;Mr.
+Harding.&#8221; Then she found herself seated at that
+wonderful table, while beside her chair stood an awesome
+being who laid a printed card before her. With a little
+ecstatic sigh she gave Hezekiah her customary signal
+for the blessing and bowed her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; exulted Livingstone aloud. &#8220;Here
+we--&#8221; He stopped short. From his left came a
+deep-toned, reverent voice invoking the divine blessing
+upon the place, the food, and the new friends who were
+so kind to strangers in a strange land.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By Jove!&#8221; muttered Livingstone under
+his breath, as his eyes met those of Jim across the
+table. The waiter coughed and turned his back. Then,
+the blessing concluded, Hezekiah raised his head and
+smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, Abby, why don&#8217;t ye say somethin&#8217;?&#8221;
+he asked, breaking the silence. &#8220;Ye hain&#8217;t
+said a word. Mr. Livin&#8217;stone&#8217;ll be thinkin&#8217;
+ye don&#8217;t like it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Warden drew a long breath of delight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t say anythin&#8217;, Hezekiah,&#8221;
+she faltered. &#8220;It&#8217;s all so beautiful.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Livingstone waited until the dazed old eyes had become
+in a measure accustomed to the surroundings, then
+he turned a smiling face on Hezekiah.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And now, my friend, what do you propose to
+do after luncheon?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, we cal&#8217;late ter take in Bunker
+Hill an&#8217; Faneuil Hall sure,&#8221; returned
+the old man with a confidence that told of new courage
+imbibed with his tea. &#8220;Then we thought mebbe
+we&#8217;d ride in the subway an&#8217; hear one of
+the big preachers if they happened ter be holdin&#8217;
+meetin&#8217;s anywheres this week. Mebbe you can
+tell us, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Across the table the man called Harding choked over
+his food and Livingstone frowned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; began Livingstone slowly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think,&#8221; interrupted Harding, taking
+a newspaper from his pocket, &#8220;I think there
+are services there,&#8221; he finished gravely, pointing
+to the glaring advertisement of a ten-cent show, as
+he handed the paper across to Livingstone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what time do the exercises begin?&#8221;
+demanded Hezekiah in a troubled voice. &#8220;Ye see,
+there&#8217;s Bunker Hill an&#8217;--sugar! Abby, ain&#8217;t
+that pretty?&#8221; he broke off delightedly. Before
+him stood a slender glass into which the waiter was
+pouring something red and sparkling.</p>
+
+<p>The old lady opposite grew white, then pink. &#8220;Of
+course that ain&#8217;t wine, Mr. Livingstone?&#8221;
+she asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Give yourself no uneasiness, my dear Mrs. Warden,&#8221;
+interposed Harding. &#8220;It&#8217;s lemonade--pink
+lemonade.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; she returned with a relieved sigh.
+&#8220;I ask yer pardon, I&#8217;m sure. You wouldn&#8217;t
+have it, &#8216;course, no more&#8217;n I would. But,
+ye see, bein&#8217; pledged so, I didn&#8217;t want
+ter make a mistake.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was an awkward silence, then Harding raised
+his glass.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s to your health, Mrs. Warden!&#8221;
+he cried gayly. &#8220;May your trip----&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait!&#8221; she interrupted excitedly, her
+old eyes alight and her cheeks flushed. &#8220;Let
+me tell ye first what this trip is ter us, then ye&#8217;ll
+have a right ter wish us good luck.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Harding lowered his glass and turned upon her a gravely
+attentive face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Most fifty years ago we was married,
+Hezekiah an&#8217; me,&#8221; she began softly. &#8220;We&#8217;d
+saved, both of us, an&#8217; we&#8217;d planned a honeymoon
+trip. We was comin&#8217; ter Boston. They didn&#8217;t
+have any &#8217;lectric-cars then nor any steam-cars
+only half-way. But we was comin&#8217; an&#8217; we
+was plannin&#8217; on Bunker Hill an&#8217; Faneuil
+Hall, an&#8217; I don&#8217;t know what all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The little lady paused for breath and Harding stirred
+uneasily in his chair. Livingstone did not move. His
+eyes were fixed on a mirror across the room. Over
+at the sideboard the waiter vigorously wiped a bottle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, we was married,&#8221; continued the
+tremulous voice, &#8220;an&#8217; not half an hour
+later mother fell down the cellar stairs an&#8217;
+broke her hip. Of course that stopped things right
+short. I took off my weddin&#8217; gown an&#8217;
+put on my old red caliker an&#8217; went ter work.
+Hezekiah came right there an&#8217; run the farm an&#8217;
+I nursed mother an&#8217; did the work. &#8217;T was
+more&#8217;n a year &#8217;fore she was up &#8216;round,
+an&#8217; after that, what with the babies an&#8217;
+all, there didn&#8217;t never seem a chance when Hezekiah
+an&#8217; me could take this trip.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If we went anywhere we couldn&#8217;t seem
+ter manage ter go tergether, an&#8217; we never stayed
+fer no sight-seein&#8217;. Late years my Jennie an&#8217;
+her husband seemed ter think we didn&#8217;t need
+nothin&#8217; but naps an&#8217; knittin&#8217;, an&#8217;
+somehow we got so we jest couldn&#8217;t stand it.
+We wanted ter go somewhere an&#8217; see somethin&#8217;,
+so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Warden paused, drew a long breath, and resumed.
+Her voice now had a ring of triumph.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, last month they got the &#8217;lectric-cars
+finished down our way. We hadn&#8217;t been on &#8217;em,
+neither of us. Jennie an&#8217; Frank didn&#8217;t
+seem ter want us to. They said they was shaky an&#8217;
+noisy an&#8217; would tire us all out. But yesterday,
+when the folks was gone, Hezekiah an&#8217; me got
+ter talkin&#8217; an&#8217; thinkin&#8217; how all
+these years we hadn&#8217;t never had that honeymoon
+trip, an&#8217; how by an&#8217; by we&#8217;d be
+old--real old, I mean, so&#8217;s we couldn&#8217;t
+take it--an&#8217; all of a sudden we said we&#8217;d
+take it now, right now. An&#8217; we did. We left
+a note fer the children, an&#8217;--an&#8217; we&#8217;re
+here!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence. Over at the side-board the
+waiter still polished his bottle. Livingstone did
+not even turn his head. Finally Harding raised his
+glass.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll drink to honeymoon trips in general
+and to this one in particular,&#8221; he cried, a
+little constrainedly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Warden flushed, smiled, and reached for her glass.
+The pink lemonade was almost at her lips when Livingstone&#8217;s
+arm shot out. Then came the tinkle of shattered glass
+and a crimson stain where the wine trailed across
+the damask.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I beg your pardon!&#8221; exclaimed Livingstone,
+while the other men lowered their glasses in surprise.
+&#8220;That was an awkward slip of mine, Mrs. Warden.
+I must have hit your arm.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Bill,&#8221; muttered Harding under his
+breath, &#8220;you don&#8217;t mean--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I do,&#8221; corrected Livingstone quietly,
+looking straight into Harding&#8217;s amazed eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. and Mrs. Warden are my guests. They are
+going to drive to Bunker Hill with me by and by.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When the six o&#8217;clock accommodation train pulled
+out from Boston that night it bore a little old man
+and a little old woman, gray-haired, weary, but blissfully
+content.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve seen &#8217;em all, Hezekiah, ev&#8217;ry
+single one of &#8217;em,&#8221; Abigail was saying.
+&#8220;An&#8217; wan&#8217;t Mr. Livingstone good,
+a-gittin&#8217; that carriage an&#8217; takin&#8217;
+us ev&#8217;rywhere; an&#8217; it bein&#8217; open
+so all &#8217;round the sides, we didn&#8217;t miss
+seein&#8217; a single thing!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was, Abby, he was, an&#8217; he wouldn&#8217;t
+let me pay one cent!&#8221; cried Hezekiah, taking
+out his roll of bills and patting it lovingly. &#8220;But,
+Abby, did ye notice? &#8216;Twas kind o&#8217; queer
+we never got one taste of that pink lemonade. The
+waiter-man took it away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_15"></a>When Aunt Abby Waked Up</h1>
+
+<p>The room was very still. The gaunt figure on the bed
+lay motionless save for a slight lifting of the chest
+at long intervals. The face was turned toward the
+wall, leaving a trail of thin gray hair-wisps across
+the pillow. Just outside the door two physicians talked
+together in low tones, with an occasional troubled
+glance toward the silent figure on the bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If there could be something that would rouse
+her,&#8221; murmured one; &#8220;something that would
+prick her will-power and goad it into action! But
+this lethargy--this wholesale giving up!&#8221; he
+finished with a gesture of despair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; frowned the other; &#8220;and
+I&#8217;ve tried--day after day I&#8217;ve tried.
+But there&#8217;s nothing. I&#8217;ve exhausted every
+means in my power. I didn&#8217;t know but you--&#8221;
+He paused questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>The younger man shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; he said. &#8220;If you can&#8217;t,
+I can&#8217;t. You&#8217;ve been her physician for
+years. If anyone knows how to reach her, you should
+know. I suppose you&#8217;ve thought of--her son?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes. Jed was sent for long ago, but he
+had gone somewhere into the interior on a prospecting
+trip, and was very hard to reach. It is doubtful if
+word gets to him at all until--too late. As you know,
+perhaps, it is rather an unfortunate case. He has not
+been home for years, anyway, and the Nortons--James
+is Mrs. Darling&#8217;s nephew--have been making all
+the capital they can out of it, and have been prejudicing
+her against him--quite unjustly, in my opinion, for
+I think it&#8217;s nothing more nor less than thoughtlessness
+on the boy&#8217;s part.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m; too bad, too bad!&#8221; murmured the
+other, as he turned and led the way to the street
+door.</p>
+
+<p>Back in the sick-room the old woman still lay motionless
+on the bed. She was wondering--as she had wondered
+so often before--why it took so long to die. For days
+now she had been trying to die, decently and in order.
+There was really no particular use in living, so far
+as she could see. Ella and Jim were very kind; but,
+after all, they were not Jed, and Jed was away--hopelessly
+away. He did not even want to come back, so Ella and
+Jim said.</p>
+
+<p>There was the money, too. She did not like to think
+of the money. It seemed to her that every nickel and
+dime and quarter that she had painfully wrested from
+the cost of keeping soul and body together all these
+past years lay now on her breast with a weight that
+crushed like lead. She had meant that money for Jed.
+Ella and Jim were kind, of course, and she was willing
+they should have it; yet Jed--but Jed was away.</p>
+
+<p>And she was so tired. She had ceased to rouse herself,
+either for the medicine or for the watery broths they
+forced through her lips. It was so hopelessly dragged
+out--this dying; yet it must be over soon. She had
+heard them tell the neighbors only yesterday that she
+was unconscious and that she did not know a thing
+of what was passing around her; and she had smiled--but
+only in her mind. Her lips, she knew, had not moved.</p>
+
+<p>They were talking now--Ella and Jim--out in the other
+room. Their voices, even their words, were quite distinct,
+and dreamily, indifferently, she listened.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; said Jim, &#8220;as long as
+I&#8217;ve got ter go ter town ter-morrer, anyhow,
+it seems a pity not ter do it all up at once. I could
+order the coffin an&#8217; the undertaker--it&#8217;s
+only a question of a few hours, anyway, an&#8217;
+it seems such a pity ter make another trip--jest fer
+that!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the bedroom the old woman stirred suddenly. Somewhere,
+away back behind the consciousness of things, something
+snapped, and sent the blood tingling from toes to
+fingertips. A fierce anger sprang instantly into life
+and brushed the cobwebs of lethargy and indifference
+from her brain. She turned and opened her eyes, fixing
+them upon the oblong patch of light that marked the
+doorway leading to the room beyond where sat Ella
+and Jim.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jest fer that,&#8221; Jim had said, and &#8220;that&#8221;
+was her death. It was not worth, it seemed, even an
+extra trip to town! And she had done so much-- so
+much for those two out there!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s see; ter-day&#8217;s Monday,&#8221;
+Jim went on. &#8220;We might fix the fun&#8217;ral
+for Saturday, I guess, an&#8217; I&#8217;ll tell the
+folks at the store ter spread it. Puttin&#8217; it
+on Sat&#8217;day&#8217;ll give us a leetle extry time
+if she shouldn&#8217;t happen ter go soon&#8217;s
+we expect--though there ain&#8217;t much fear o&#8217;
+that now, I guess, she&#8217;s so low. An&#8217; it&#8217;ll
+save me &#8217;most half a day ter do it all up this
+trip. I ain&#8217;t--what&#8217;s that?&#8221; he broke
+off sharply.</p>
+
+<p>From the inner room had seemed to come a choking,
+inarticulate cry.</p>
+
+<p>With a smothered ejaculation Jim picked up the lamp,
+hurried into the sick-room, and tiptoed to the bed.
+The gaunt figure lay motionless, face to the wall,
+leaving a trail of thin gray hair-wisps across the
+pillow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gosh!&#8221; muttered the man as he turned
+away.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s nothin&#8217; doin&#8217;-but
+it did give me a start!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>On the bed the woman smiled grimly--but the man did
+not see it.</p>
+
+<p>It was snowing hard when Jim got back from town Tuesday
+night. He came blustering into the kitchen with stamping
+feet and wide-flung arms, scattering the powdery whiteness
+in all directions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whew! It&#8217;s a reg&#8217;lar blizzard,&#8221;
+he began, but he stopped short at the expression on
+his wife&#8217;s face. &#8220;Why, Ella!&#8221; he
+cried.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jim--Aunt Abby sat up ten minutes in bed ter-day.
+She called fer toast an&#8217; tea.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jim dropped into a chair. His jaw fell open.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;S-sat up!&#8221; he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But she--hang it all, Herrick&#8217;s comin&#8217;
+ter-morrer with the coffin!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Jim!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I can&#8217;t help it! You know how she
+was this mornin&#8217;,&#8221; retorted Jim sharply.
+&#8220;I thought she <i>was</i> dead once. Why,
+I &#8217;most had Herrick come back with me ter-night,
+I was so sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it,&#8221; shivered Ella, &#8220;but
+you hadn&#8217;t been gone an hour &#8217;fore she
+began to stir an&#8217; notice things. I found her
+lookin&#8217; at me first, an&#8217; it give me such
+a turn I &#8217;most dropped the medicine bottle in
+my hand. I was clearin&#8217; off the little table
+by her bed, an&#8217; she was followin&#8217; me around
+with them big gray eyes. &#8216;Slickin&#8217; up?&#8217;
+she asks after a minute; an&#8217; I could &#8216;a&#8217;
+dropped right there an&#8217; then, &#8217;cause I
+<i>was</i> slickin&#8217; up, fer her fun&#8217;ral.
+&#8216;Where&#8217;s Jim?&#8217; she asks then. &#8217;Gone
+ter town,&#8217; says I, kind o&#8217; faint-like.
+&#8216;Umph!&#8217; she says, an&#8217; snaps her lips
+tight shet. After a minute she opens &#8217;em again.
+&#8217;I think I&#8217;ll have some tea and toast,&#8217;
+she says, casual-like, jest as if she&#8217;d been
+callin&#8217; fer victuals ev&#8217;ry day fer a month
+past. An&#8217; when I brought it, if she didn&#8217;t
+drag herself up in bed an&#8217; call fer a piller
+to her back, so&#8217;s she could set up. An&#8217;
+there she stayed, pantin&#8217; an&#8217; gaspin&#8217;,
+but <i>settin&#8217; up</i>--an&#8217; she stayed
+there till the toast an&#8217; tea was gone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gosh!&#8221; groaned Jim. &#8220;Who&#8217;d
+&#8216;a&#8217; thought it? &#8217;Course &#8217;t
+ain&#8217;t that I grudge the old lady&#8217;s livin&#8217;,&#8221;
+he added hurriedly, &#8220;but jest now it&#8217;s
+so-- unhandy, things bein&#8217; as they be. We can&#8217;t
+very well--&#8221; He stopped, a swift change coming
+to his face. &#8220;Say, Ella,&#8221; he cried, &#8220;mebbe
+it&#8217;s jest a spurt &#8217;fore--&#8217;fore the
+last. Don&#8217;t it happen some-times that way--when
+folks is dyin&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; shuddered Ella.
+&#8220;Sh-h! I thought I heard her.&#8221; And she
+hurried across the hall to the sitting-room and the
+bedroom beyond.</p>
+
+<p>It did not snow much through the night, but in the
+early morning it began again with increased severity.
+The wind rose, too, and by the time Herrick, the undertaker,
+drove into the yard, the storm had become a blizzard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I calc&#8217;lated if I didn&#8217;t git this
+&#8217;ere coffin here purty quick there wouldn&#8217;t
+be no gettin&#8217; it here yet awhile,&#8221; called
+Herrick cheerfully, as Jim came to the door.</p>
+
+<p>Jim flushed and raised a warning hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sh-h! Herrick, look out!&#8221; he whispered
+hoarsely. &#8220;She ain&#8217;t dead yet. You&#8217;ll
+have ter go back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go back!&#8221; snorted Herrick. &#8220;Why,
+man alive, &#8217;twas as much as my life&#8217;s
+worth to get here. There won&#8217;t be no goin&#8217;
+back yet awhile fer me nor no one else, I calc&#8217;late.
+An&#8217; the quicker you get this &#8217;ere coffin
+in out of the snow, the better&#8217;t will be,&#8221;
+he went on authoritatively as he leaped to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>It was not without talk and a great deal of commotion
+that the untimely addition to James Norton&#8217;s
+household effects was finally deposited in the darkened
+parlor; neither was it accomplished without some echo
+of the confusion reaching the sick-room, despite all
+efforts of concealment. Jim, perspiring, redfaced,
+and palpably nervous, was passing on tiptoe through
+the sitting-room when a quavering voice from the bedroom
+brought him to a halt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jim, is that you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Aunt Abby.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s come?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jim&#8217;s face grew white, then red.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;C-ome?&#8221; he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I heard a sleigh and voices. Who is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, jest-jest a man on--on business,&#8221;
+he flung over his shoulder, as he fled through the
+hall.</p>
+
+<p>Not half an hour later came Ella&#8217;s turn. In
+accordance with the sick woman&#8217;s orders she
+had prepared tea, toast, and a boiled egg; but she
+had not set the tray on the bed when the old woman
+turned upon her two keen eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s in the kitchen, Ella, with Jim?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ella started guiltily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, jest a--a man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ella hesitated; then, knowing that deceit was useless,
+she stammered out the truth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, er--only Mr. Herrick.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not William Herrick, the undertaker!&#8221;
+There was apparently only pleased surprise in the
+old woman&#8217;s voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; nodded Ella feverishly, &#8220;he
+had business out this way, and--and got snowed up,&#8221;
+she explained with some haste.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye don&#8217;t say,&#8221; murmured the old
+woman. &#8220;Well, ask him in; I&#8217;d like ter
+see him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aunt Abby!&#8221;--Ella&#8217;s teeth fairly
+chattered with dismay.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I&#8217;d like ter see him,&#8221; repeated
+the old woman with cordial interest. &#8220;Call him
+in.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Ella could do nothing but obey.</p>
+
+<p>Herrick, however, did not stay long in the sick-room.
+The situation was uncommon for him, and not without
+its difficulties. As soon as possible he fled to the
+kitchen, telling Jim that it gave him &#8220;the creeps&#8221;
+to have her ask him where he&#8217;d started for,
+and if business was good.</p>
+
+<p>All that day it snowed and all that night; nor did
+the dawn of Friday bring clear skies. For hours the
+wind had swept the snow from roofs and hilltops, piling
+it into great drifts that grew moment by moment deeper
+and more impassable.</p>
+
+<p>In the farmhouse Herrick was still a prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>The sick woman was better. Even Jim knew now that
+it was no momentary flare of the candle before it
+went out. Mrs. Darling was undeniably improving in
+health. She had sat up several times in bed, and had
+begun to talk of wrappers and slippers. She ate toast,
+eggs, and jellies, and hinted at chicken and beefsteak.
+She was weak, to be sure, but behind her, supporting
+and encouraging, there seemed to be a curious strength--a strength that sent a determined gleam to her eyes,
+and a grim tenseness to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>At noon the sun came out, and the wind died into fitful
+gusts. The two men attacked the drifts with a will,
+and made a path to the gate. They even attempted to
+break out the road, and Herrick harnessed his horse
+and started for home; but he had not gone ten rods
+before he was forced to turn back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;T ain&#8217;t no use,&#8221; he grumbled.
+&#8220;I calc&#8217;late I&#8217;m booked here till
+the crack o&#8217; doom!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; ter-morrer&#8217;s the fun&#8217;ral,&#8221;
+groaned Jim. &#8220;An&#8217; I can&#8217;t git nowhere--<i>nowhere</i> ter tell &#8217;em not ter come!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, it don&#8217;t look now as if anybody&#8217;d
+come--or go,&#8221; snapped the undertaker.</p>
+
+<p>Saturday dawned fair and cold. Early in the morning
+the casket was moved from the parlor to the attic.</p>
+
+<p>There had been sharp words at the breakfast table,
+Herrick declaring that he had made a sale, and refusing
+to take the casket back to town; hence the move to
+the attic; but in spite of their caution, the sick
+woman heard the commotion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What ye been cartin&#8217; upstairs?&#8221;
+she asked in a mildly curious voice.</p>
+
+<p>Ella was ready for her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A chair,&#8221; she explained smoothly; &#8220;the
+one that was broke in the front room, ye know.&#8221;
+And she did not think it was necessary to add that
+the chair was not all that had been moved. She winced
+and changed color, however, when her aunt observed:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Humph! Must be you&#8217;re expectin&#8217;
+company, Ella.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was almost two o&#8217;clock when loud voices and
+the crunch of heavy teams told that the road-breakers
+had come. All morning the Nortons had been hoping
+against hope that the fateful hour would pass, and
+the road be still left in unbroken whiteness. Someone,
+however, had known his duty too well--and had done
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I set ter work first thing on this road,&#8221;
+said the man triumphantly to Ella as he stood, shovel
+in hand, at the door. &#8220;The parson&#8217;s right
+behind, an&#8217; there&#8217;s a lot more behind him.
+Gorry! I was afraid I wouldn&#8217;t git here in time,
+but the fun&#8217;ral wan&#8217;t till two, was it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ella&#8217;s dry lips refused to move. She shook her
+head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a mistake,&#8221; she said faintly.
+&#8220;There ain&#8217;t no fun&#8217;ral. Aunt Abby&#8217;s
+better.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The man stared, then he whistled softly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gorry!&#8221; he muttered, as he turned away.</p>
+
+<p>If Jim and Ella had supposed that they could keep
+their aunt from attending her own &#8220;funeral&#8221;--as
+Herrick persisted in calling it--they soon found their
+mistake. Mrs. Darling heard the bells of the first
+arrival.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess mebbe I&#8217;ll git up an&#8217; set
+up a spell,&#8221; she announced calmly to Ella. &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+have my wrapper an&#8217; my slippers, an&#8217; I&#8217;ll
+set in the big chair out in the settin&#8217;-room.
+That&#8217;s Parson Gerry&#8217;s voice, an&#8217;
+I want ter see him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Aunt Abby--&#8221; began Ella, feverishly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I declare, if there ain&#8217;t another
+sleigh drivin&#8217; in,&#8221; cried the old woman
+excitedly, sitting up in bed and peering through the
+little window. &#8220;Must be they&#8217;re givin&#8217;
+us a s&#8217;prise party. Now hurry, Ella, an&#8217;
+git them slippers. I ain&#8217;t a-goin&#8217; to lose
+none o&#8217; the fun!&#8221; And Ella, nervous, perplexed,
+and thoroughly frightened, did as she was bid.</p>
+
+<p>In state, in the big rocking-chair, the old woman
+received her guests. She said little, it is true,
+but she was there; and if she noticed that no guest
+entered the room without a few whispered words from
+Ella in the hall, she made no sign. Neither did she
+apparently consider it strange that ten women and
+six men should have braved the cold to spend fifteen
+rather embarrassed minutes in her sitting-room--and
+for this last both Ella and Jim were devoutly grateful.
+They could not help wondering about it, however, after
+she had gone to bed, and the house was still.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do ye s&#8217;pose she thought?&#8221;
+whispered Jim.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; shivered Ella, &#8220;but,
+Jim, wan&#8217;t it awful?--Mis&#8217; Blair brought
+a white wreath--everlastin&#8217;s!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>One by one the days passed, and Jim and Ella ceased
+to tremble every time the old woman opened her lips.
+There was still that fearsome thing in the attic,
+but the chance of discovery was small now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If she <i>should</i> find out,&#8221;
+Ella had said, &#8220;&#8217;twould be the end of
+the money--fer us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But she ain&#8217;t a-goin&#8217; ter find
+out,&#8221; Jim had retorted. &#8220;She can&#8217;t
+last long, &#8216;course, an&#8217; I guess she won&#8217;t
+change the will now--unless some one tells her; an&#8217;
+I&#8217;ll be plaguy careful there don&#8217;t no one
+do that!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The &#8220;funeral&#8221; was a week old when Mrs.
+Darling came into the sitting-room one day, fully
+dressed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I put on all my clo&#8217;s,&#8221; she said
+smilingly, in answer to Ella&#8217;s shocked exclamation.
+&#8220;I got restless, somehow, an&#8217; sick o&#8217;
+wrappers. Besides, I wanted to walk around the house
+a little. I git kind o&#8217; tired o&#8217; jest
+one room.&#8221; And she limped across the floor to
+the hall door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Aunt Abby, where ye goin&#8217; now?&#8221;
+faltered Ella.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jest up in the attic. I wanted ter see--&#8221;
+She stopped in apparent surprise. Ella and Jim had
+sprung to their feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The attic!&#8221; they gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you mustn&#8217;t!--you ain&#8217;t strong
+enough!--you&#8217;ll fall!--there&#8217;s nothin&#8217;
+there!&#8221; they exclaimed wildly, talking both together
+and hurrying forward.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I guess &#8217;t won&#8217;t kill me,&#8221;
+said the old woman; and something in the tone of her
+voice made them fall back. They were still staring
+into each other&#8217;s eyes when the hall door closed
+sharply behind her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all--up!&#8221; breathed Jim.</p>
+
+<p>Fully fifteen minutes passed before the old woman
+came back. She entered the room quietly, and limped
+across the floor to the chair by the window.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s real pretty,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I
+allers did like gray.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gray?&#8221; stammered Ella.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!--fer coffins, ye know.&#8221; Jim made
+a sudden movement, and started to speak; but the old
+woman raised her hand. &#8220;You don&#8217;t need
+ter say anythin&#8217;,&#8221; she interposed cheerfully.
+&#8220;I jest wanted ter make sure where &#8216;twas,
+so I went up. You see, Jed&#8217;s comin&#8217; home,
+an&#8217; I thought he might feel--queer if he run
+on to it, casual-like.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jed--comin&#8217; home!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old woman smiled oddly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I didn&#8217;t tell ye, did I? The doctor
+had this telegram yesterday, an&#8217; brought it
+over to me. Ye know he was here last night. Read it.&#8221;
+And she pulled from her pocket a crumpled slip of
+paper. And Jim read:</p>
+
+<p>Shall be there the 8th. For God&#8217;s sake don&#8217;t
+let me be too late.</p>
+
+<p style="font-variant: small-caps; text-align: right">J. D. Darling</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_16"></a>Wristers for Three</h1>
+
+<p>The great chair, sumptuous with satin-damask and soft
+with springs, almost engulfed the tiny figure of the
+little old lady. To the old lady herself it suddenly
+seemed the very embodiment of the luxurious ease against
+which she was so impotently battling. With a spasmodic
+movement she jerked herself to her feet, and stood
+there motionless save for the wistful sweep of her
+eyes about the room.</p>
+
+<p>A level ray from the setting sun shot through the
+window, gilding the silver of her hair and deepening
+the faint pink of her cheek; on the opposite wall
+it threw a sharp silhouette of the alert little figure--that figure which even the passage of years had been
+able to bend so very little to its will. For a moment
+the lace kerchief folded across the black gown rose
+and fell tumultuously; then its wearer crossed the
+room and seated herself with uncompromising discomfort
+in the only straight-backed chair the room contained.
+This done, Mrs. Nancy Wetherby, for the twentieth
+time, went over in her mind the whole matter.</p>
+
+<p>For two weeks, now, she had been a member of her son
+John&#8217;s family--two vain, unprofitable weeks.
+When before that had the sunset found her night after
+night with hands limp from a long day of idleness?
+When before that had the sunrise found her morning
+after morning with a mind destitute of worthy aim
+or helpful plan for the coming twelve hours? When,
+indeed?</p>
+
+<p>Not in her girlhood, not even in her childhood, had
+there been days of such utter uselessness--rag dolls
+and mud pies need <i>some</i> care! As for her
+married life, there were Eben, the babies, the house,
+the church--and how absolutely necessary she had been
+to each one!</p>
+
+<p>The babies had quickly grown to stalwart men and sweet-faced
+women who had as quickly left the home nest and built
+new nests of their own. Eben had died; and the church--strange
+how long and longer still the walk to the church had
+grown each time she had walked it this last year! After
+all, perhaps it did not matter; there were new faces
+at the church, and young, strong hands that did not
+falter and tremble over these new ways of doing things.
+For a time there had been only the house that needed
+her--but how great that need had been! There were the
+rooms to care for, there was the linen to air, there
+were the dear treasures of picture and toy to cry
+and laugh over; and outside there were the roses to
+train and the pansies to pick.</p>
+
+<p>Now, even the house was not left. It was October,
+and son John had told her that winter was coming on
+and she must not remain alone. He had brought her
+to his own great house and placed her in these beautiful
+rooms--indeed, son John was most kind to her! If only
+she could make some return, do something, be of some
+use!</p>
+
+<p>Her heart failed her as she thought of the grave-faced,
+preoccupied man who came each morning into the room
+with the question, &#8220;Well, mother, is there anything
+you need to-day?&#8221; What possible service could
+<i>she</i> render <i>him?</i> Her heart
+failed her again as she thought of John&#8217;s pretty,
+new wife, and of the two big boys, men grown, sons
+of dear dead Molly. There was the baby, to be sure;
+but the baby was always attended by one, and maybe
+two, white-capped, white-aproned young women. Madam
+Wetherby never felt quite sure of herself when with
+those young women. There were other young women, too,
+in whose presence she felt equally ill at ease; young
+women in still prettier white aprons and still daintier
+white caps; young women who moved noiselessly in and
+out of the halls and parlors and who waited at table
+each day.</p>
+
+<p>Was there not some spot, some creature, some thing,
+in all that place that needed the touch of her hand,
+the glance of her eye? Surely the day had not quite
+come when she could be of no use, no service to her
+kind! Her work must be waiting; she had only to find
+it. She would seek it out--and that at once. No more
+of this slothful waiting for the work to come to her!
+&#8220;Indeed, no!&#8221; she finished aloud, her dim
+eyes alight, her breath coming short and quick, and
+her whole frail self quivering with courage and excitement.</p>
+
+<p>It was scarcely nine o&#8217;clock the next morning
+when a quaint little figure in a huge gingham apron
+(slyly abstracted from the bottom of a trunk) slipped
+out of the rooms given over to the use of John Wetherby&#8217;s
+mother. The little figure tripped softly, almost stealthily,
+along the hall and down the wide main staircase. There
+was some hesitation and there were a few false moves
+before the rear stairway leading to the kitchen was
+gained; and there was a gasp, half triumphant, half
+dismayed, when the kitchen was reached.</p>
+
+<p>The cook stared, open-mouthed, as though confronted
+with an apparition. A maid, hurrying across the room
+with a loaded tray, almost dropped her burden to the
+floor. There was a dazed moment of silence, then Madam
+Wetherby took a faltering step forward and spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-morning! I--I&#8217;ve come to help you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ma&#8217;am!&#8221; gasped the cook.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To help--to help!&#8221; nodded the little
+old lady briskly, with a sudden overwhelming joy at
+the near prospect of the realization of her hopes.
+&#8220;Pare apples, beat eggs, or--anything!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, ma&#8217;am, I--you--&#8221; The cook
+stopped helplessly, and eyed with frightened fascination
+the little old lady as she crossed to the table and
+picked up a pan of potatoes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now a knife, please,--oh, here&#8217;s one,&#8221;
+continued Madam Wetherby happily. &#8220;Go right
+about something else. I&#8217;ll sit over there in
+that chair, and I&#8217;ll have these peeled very
+soon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When John Wetherby visited his mother&#8217;s rooms
+that morning he found no one there to greet him. A
+few sharp inquiries disclosed the little lady&#8217;s
+whereabouts and sent Margaret Wetherby with flaming
+cheeks and tightening lips into the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother!&#8221; she cried; and at the word the
+knife dropped from the trembling, withered old fingers
+and clattered to the floor. &#8220;Why, mother!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I was helping,&#8221; quavered a deprecatory
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>Something in the appealing eyes sent a softer curve
+to Margaret Wetherby&#8217;s lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, mother; that was very kind of you,&#8221;
+said John&#8217;s wife gently. &#8220;But such work
+is quite too hard for you, and there&#8217;s no need
+of your doing it. Nora will finish these,&#8221; she
+added, lifting the pan of potatoes to the table, &#8220;and
+you and I will go upstairs to your room. Perhaps we&#8217;ll
+go driving by and by. Who knows?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In thinking it over afterwards Nancy Wetherby could
+find no fault with her daughter-in-law. Margaret had
+been goodness itself, insisting only that such work
+was not for a moment to be thought of. John&#8217;s
+wife was indeed kind, acknowledged Madam Wetherby
+to herself, yet two big tears welled to her eyes and
+were still moist on her cheeks after she had fallen
+asleep.</p>
+
+<p>It was perhaps three days later that John Wetherby&#8217;s
+mother climbed the long flight of stairs near her
+sitting-room door, and somewhat timidly entered one
+of the airy, sunlit rooms devoted to Master Philip
+Wetherby. The young woman in attendance respectfully
+acknowledged her greeting, and Madam Wetherby advanced
+with some show of courage to the middle of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The baby, I--I heard him cry,&#8221; she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, madam,&#8221; smiled the nurse. &#8220;It
+is Master Philip&#8217;s nap hour.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louder and louder swelled the wails from the inner
+room, yet the nurse did not stir save to reach for
+her thread.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But he&#8217;s crying--yet!&#8221; gasped Madam
+Wetherby.</p>
+
+<p>The girl&#8217;s lips twitched and an expression came
+to her face which the little old lady did not in the
+least understand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t you--do something?&#8221; demanded
+baby&#8217;s grandmother, her voice shaking.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, madam. I--&#8221; began the girl, but she
+did not finish. The little figure before her drew
+itself to the full extent of its diminutive height.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I can,&#8221; said Madam Wetherby crisply.
+Then she turned and hurried into the inner room.</p>
+
+<p>The nurse sat mute and motionless until a crooning
+lullaby and the unmistakable tapping of rockers on
+a bare floor brought her to her feet in dismay. With
+an angry frown she strode across the room, but she
+stopped short at the sight that met her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>In a low chair, her face aglow with the accumulated
+love of years of baby-brooding, sat the little old
+lady, one knotted, wrinkled finger tightly elapsed
+within a dimpled fist. The cries had dropped to sobbing
+breaths, and the lullaby, feeble and quavering though
+it was, rose and swelled triumphant. The anger fled
+from the girl&#8217;s face, and a queer choking came
+to her throat so that her words were faint and broken.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Madam--I beg pardon--I&#8217;m sorry, but I
+must put Master Philip back on his bed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But he isn&#8217;t asleep yet,&#8221; demurred
+Madam Wetherby softly, her eyes mutinous.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you must--I can&#8217;t--that is, Master
+Philip cannot be rocked,&#8221; faltered the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense, my dear!&#8221; she said; &#8220;babies
+can always be rocked!&#8221; And again the lullaby
+rose on the air.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, madam,&#8221; persisted the girl--she
+was almost crying now--&#8220;don&#8217;t you see?
+I must put Master Philip back. It is Mrs. Wetherby&#8217;s
+orders. They-- they don&#8217;t rock babies so much
+now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For an instant fierce rebellion spoke through flashing
+eyes, stern-set lips, and tightly clutched fingers;
+then all the light died from the thin old face and
+the tense muscles relaxed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may put the baby back,&#8221; said Madam
+Wetherby tremulously, yet with a sudden dignity that
+set the maid to curtsying. &#8220;I--I should not want
+to cross my daughter&#8217;s wishes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nancy Wetherby never rocked her grandson again, but
+for days she haunted the nursery, happy if she could
+but tie the baby&#8217;s moccasins or hold his brush
+or powder-puff; yet a week had scarcely passed when
+John&#8217;s wife said to her:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, dear, I wouldn&#8217;t tire myself
+so trotting upstairs each day to the nursery. There
+isn&#8217;t a bit of need--Mary and Betty can manage
+quite well. You fatigue yourself too much!&#8221;
+And to the old lady&#8217;s denials John&#8217;s wife
+returned, with a tinge of sharpness: &#8220;But, really,
+mother, I&#8217;d rather you didn&#8217;t. It frets
+the nurses and--forgive me-but you know you <i>will</i>
+forget and talk to him in &#8217;baby-talk&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The days came and the days went, and Nancy Wetherby
+stayed more and more closely to her rooms. She begged
+one day for the mending-basket, but her daughter-in-law
+laughed and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tut, tut, mother, dear!&#8221; she remonstrated.
+&#8220;As if I&#8217;d have you wearing your eyes
+and fingers out mending a paltry pair of socks!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then I--I&#8217;ll knit new ones!&#8221; cried
+the old lady, with sudden inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Knit new ones--stockings!&#8221; laughed Margaret
+Wetherby. &#8220;Why, dearie, they never in this world
+would wear them--and if they would, I couldn&#8217;t
+let you do it,&#8221; she added gently, as she noted
+the swift clouding of the eager face. &#8220;Such
+tiresome work!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the old eyes filled with tears; and yet--John&#8217;s
+wife was kind, so very kind!</p>
+
+<p>It was a cheerless, gray December morning that John
+Wetherby came into his mother&#8217;s room and found
+a sob-shaken little figure in the depths of the sumptuous,
+satin-damask chair.  &#8220;Mother, mother,--why, mother!&#8221;
+There were amazement and real distress in John Wetherby&#8217;s
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, John, I--I didn&#8217;t mean
+to--truly I didn&#8217;t!&#8221; quavered the little
+old lady.</p>
+
+<p>John dropped on one knee and caught the fluttering
+fingers. &#8220;Mother, what is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It--it isn&#8217;t anything; truly it isn&#8217;t,&#8221;
+urged the tremulous voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is any one unkind to you?&#8221; John&#8217;s
+eyes grew stern. &#8220;The boys, or-- Margaret?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The indignant red mounted to the faded cheek. &#8220;John!
+How can you ask? Every one is kind, kind, so very
+kind to me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, then, what is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was only a sob in reply. &#8220;Come, come,&#8221;
+he coaxed gently.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Nancy Wetherby&#8217;s breath was held
+suspended, then it came in a burst with a rush of
+words.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, John, John, I&#8217;m so useless, so useless,
+so dreadfully useless! Don&#8217;t you see? Not a
+thing, not a person needs me. The kitchen has the
+cook and the maids. The baby has two or three nurses.
+Not even this room needs me--there&#8217;s a girl
+to dust it each day. Once I slipped out of bed and
+did it first--I did, John; but she came in, and when
+I told her, she just curtsied and smiled and kept
+right on, and--she didn&#8217;t even skip <i>one
+chair!</i> John, dear John, sometimes it seems as
+though even my own self doesn&#8217;t need me. I--I
+don&#8217;t even put on my clothes alone; there&#8217;s
+always some one to help me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dear,&#8221; soothed the man
+huskily. &#8220;I need you, indeed I do, mother.&#8221;
+And he pressed his lips to one, then the other, of
+the wrinkled, soft-skinned hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t--you don&#8217;t!&#8221; choked
+the woman. &#8220;There&#8217;s not one thing I can
+do for you! Why, John, only think, I sit with idle
+hands all day, and there was so much once for them
+to do. There was Eben, and the children, and the house,
+and the missionary meetings, and--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>On and on went the sweet old voice, but the man scarcely
+heard. Only one phrase rang over and over in his ears,
+&#8220;There&#8217;s not one thing I can do for you!&#8221;
+All the interests of now--stocks, bonds, railroads--fell
+from his mind and left it blank save for the past.
+He was a boy again at his mother&#8217;s knee. And
+what had she done for him then? Surely among all the
+myriad things there must be one that he might single
+out and ask her to do for him now! And yet, as he
+thought, his heart misgave him.</p>
+
+<p>There were pies baked, clothes made, bumped foreheads
+bathed, lost pencils found; there were--a sudden vision
+came to him of something warm and red and very soft--something
+over which his boyish heart had exulted. The next
+moment his face lighted with joy very like that of
+the years long ago.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother!&#8221; he cried. &#8220;I know what
+you can do for me. I want a pair of wristers--red
+ones, just like those you used to knit!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>It must have been a month later that John Wetherby,
+with his two elder sons, turned the first corner that
+carried him out of sight of his house. Very slowly,
+and with gentle fingers, he pulled off two bright
+red wristers. He folded them, patted them, then tucked
+them away in an inner pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bless her dear heart!&#8221; he said softly.
+&#8220;You should have seen her eyes shine when I
+put them on this morning!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can imagine it,&#8221; said one of his sons
+in a curiously tender voice. The other one smiled,
+and said whimsically, &#8220;I can hardly wait for
+mine!&#8221; Yet even as he spoke his eyes grew dim
+with a sudden moisture.</p>
+
+<p>Back at the house John&#8217;s mother was saying to
+John&#8217;s wife: &#8220;Did you see them on him,
+Margaret?--John&#8217;s wristers? They did look so
+bright and pretty! And I&#8217;m to make more, too;
+did you know? Frank and Edward want some; John said
+so. He told them about his, and they wanted some right
+away. Only think, Margaret,&#8221; she finished, lifting
+with both hands the ball of red worsted and pressing
+it close to her cheek, &#8220;I&#8217;ve got two whole
+pairs to make now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_17"></a>The Giving Thanks of Cyrus and Huldah</h1>
+
+<p>For two months Cyrus Gregg and his wife Huldah had
+not spoken to each other, yet all the while they had
+lived under the same roof, driven to church side by
+side, and attended various festivities and church prayer-meetings
+together.</p>
+
+<p>The cause of the quarrel had been an insignificant
+something that speedily lost itself in the torrent
+of angry words that burst from the lips of the irate
+husband and wife, until by night it would have been
+difficult for either the man or the woman to tell exactly
+what had been the first point of difference. By that
+time, however, the quarrel had assumed such proportions
+that it loomed in their lives larger than anything
+else; and each had vowed never to speak to the other
+until that other had made the advance.</p>
+
+<p>On both sides they came of a stubborn race, and from
+the first it was a battle royally fought. The night
+of the quarrel Cyrus betook himself in solitary state
+to the &#8220;spare-room&#8221; over the parlor. After
+that he slept on a makeshift bed that he had prepared
+for himself in the shed-chamber, hitherto sacred to
+trunks, dried corn, and cobwebs.</p>
+
+<p>For a month the two sat opposite to each other and
+partook of Huldah&#8217;s excellent cooking; then
+one day the woman found at her plate a piece--of brown
+paper on which had been scrawled:</p>
+
+<p>If I ain&#8217;t worth speakin&#8217; to I ain&#8217;t
+worth cookin&#8217; for. Hereafter I&#8217;ll take
+care of myself.</p>
+
+<p>A day later came the retort. Cyrus found it tucked
+under the shed-chamber door.</p>
+
+<p>Huldah&#8217;s note showed her &#8220;schooling.&#8221;
+It was well written, carefully spelled, and enclosed
+in a square white envelope.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir</i> [it ran stiffly]: I shall be obliged
+if you do not chop any more wood for me. Hereafter
+I shall use the oil stove. HULDAH PENDLETON GREGG.</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus choked, and peered at the name with suddenly
+blurred eyes: the &#8220;Huldah Pendleton&#8221; was
+fiercely black and distinct; the &#8220;Gregg&#8221;
+was so faint it could scarcely be discerned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, it&#8217;s &#8217;most like a d&#8217;vorce!&#8221;
+he shivered.</p>
+
+<p>If it had not been so pitiful, it would have been
+ludicrous--what followed. Day after day, in one corner
+of the kitchen, an old man boiled his potatoes and
+fried his unappetizing eggs over a dusty, unblacked
+stove; in the other corner an old woman baked and brewed
+over a shining idol of brass and black enamel--and
+always the baking and brewing carried to the nostrils
+of the hungry man across the room the aroma of some
+dainty that was a particular favorite of his own.</p>
+
+<p>The man whistled, and the woman hummed--at times;
+but they did not talk, except when some neighbor came
+in; and then they both talked very loud and very fast--to
+the neighbor. On this one point were Cyrus Gregg and
+his wife Huldah agreed; under no circumstances whatever
+must any gossiping outsider know.</p>
+
+<p>One by one the weeks had passed. It was November now,
+and very cold. Outdoors a dull gray sky and a dull
+brown earth combined into a dismal hopelessness. Indoors
+the dull monotony of a two-months-old quarrel and
+a growing heartache made a combination that carried
+even less of cheer.</p>
+
+<p>Huldah never hummed now, and Cyrus seldom whistled;
+yet neither was one whit nearer speaking. Each saw
+this, and, curiously enough, was pleased. In fact,
+it was just here that, in spite of the heartache, each
+found an odd satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By sugar--but she&#8217;s a spunky one!&#8221;
+Cyrus would chuckle admiringly, as he discovered some
+new evidence of his wife&#8217;s shrewdness in obtaining
+what she wanted with yet no spoken word.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There isn&#8217;t another man in town who could
+do it--and stick to it!&#8221; exulted Huldah proudly,
+her eyes on her husband&#8217;s form, bent over his
+egg-frying at the other side of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Not only the cause of the quarrel, but almost the
+quarrel itself, had now long since been forgotten;
+in fact, to both Cyrus and his wife it had come to
+be a sort of game in which each player watched the
+other&#8217;s progress with fully as much interest
+as he did his own. And yet, with it all there was
+the heartache; for the question came to them at times
+with sickening force--just when and how could it possibly
+end?</p>
+
+<p>It was at about this time that each began to worry
+about the other. Huldah shuddered at the changeless
+fried eggs and boiled potatoes; and Cyrus ordered
+a heavy storm window for the room where Huldah slept
+alone. Huldah slyly left a new apple pie almost under
+her husband&#8217;s nose one day, and Cyrus slipped
+a five-dollar bill beneath his wife&#8217;s napkin
+ring. When both pie and greenback remained untouched,
+Huldah cried, and Cyrus said, &#8220;Gosh darn it!&#8221;
+three times in succession behind the woodshed door.</p>
+
+<p>A week before Thanksgiving a letter came from the
+married daughter, and another from the married son.
+They were good letters, kind and loving; and each
+closed with a suggestion that all go home at Thanksgiving
+for a family reunion.</p>
+
+<p>Huldah read the letters eagerly, but at their close
+she frowned and looked anxious. In a moment she had
+passed them to Cyrus with a toss of her head. Five
+minutes later Cyrus had flung them back with these
+words trailing across one of the envelopes:</p>
+
+<blockquote>Write um. Tell um we are sick--dead--gone
+away--anything! Only don&#8217;t let um come. A
+  if <i>we</i> wanted to Thanksgive!</blockquote>
+
+<p>Huldah answered the letters that night. She, too,
+wrote kindly and lovingly; but at the end she said
+that much as she and father would like to see them,
+it did not seem wise to undertake to entertain such
+a family gathering just now. It would be better to
+postpone it.</p>
+
+<p>Both Huldah and Cyrus hoped that this would end the
+subject of Thanksgiving; but it did not. The very
+next day Cyrus encountered neighbor Wiley in the village
+store. Wiley&#8217;s round red face shone like the
+full moon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, Cy, what ye doin&#8217; down your
+way Thanksgivin&#8217;--eh?&#8221; he queried.</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus stiffened; but before he could answer he discovered
+that Wiley had asked the question, not for information,
+but as a mere introduction to a recital of his own
+plans.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re doin&#8217; great things,&#8221;
+announced the man. &#8220;Sam an&#8217; Jennie an&#8217;
+the hull kit on &#8217;em&#8217;s comin&#8217; home
+an&#8217; bring all the chicks. Tell ye what, Cy,
+we <i>be</i> a-Thanksgivin&#8217; this year! Ain&#8217;t
+nothin&#8217; like a good old fam&#8217;ly reunion,
+when ye come right down to it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know,&#8221; said Cyrus gloomily. &#8220;But
+we--we ain&#8217;t doin&#8217; much this year.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A day later came Huldah&#8217;s turn. She had taken
+some calf&#8217;s-foot jelly to Mrs. Taylor in the
+little house at the foot of the hill. The Widow Taylor
+was crying.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see, it&#8217;s Thanksgiving!&#8221; she
+sobbed, in answer to Huldah&#8217;s dismayed questions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thanksgiving!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. And last year I had--<i>him!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Huldah sighed, and murmured something comforting,
+appropriate; but almost at once she stopped, for the
+woman had turned searching eyes upon her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huldah Gregg, do you appreciate Cyrus?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Huldah bridled angrily, but there was no time for
+a reply, for the woman answered her own question,
+and hurried on wildly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. Did I appreciate my husband? No. Does Sally
+Clark appreciate her husband? No. And there don&#8217;t
+none of us do it till he&#8217;s gone--gone-- gone!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As soon as possible Huldah went home. She was not
+a little disconcerted. The &#8220;gone--gone--gone&#8221;
+rang unpleasantly in her ears, and before her eyes
+rose a hateful vision of unappetizing fried eggs and
+boiled potatoes. As to her not appreciating Cyrus--that
+was all nonsense; she had always appreciated him,
+and that, too, far beyond his just deserts, she told
+herself angrily.</p>
+
+<p>There was no escaping Thanksgiving after that for
+either Huldah or Cyrus. It looked from every eager
+eye, and dropped from every joyous lip, until, of
+all the world Huldah and Cyrus came to regard themselves
+as the most forlorn, and the most abused.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that to Huldah came her great idea; she
+would cook for Cyrus the best Thanksgiving dinner
+he had ever eaten. Just because he was obstinate was
+no reason why he should starve, she told herself; and
+very gayly she set about carrying out her plans. First
+the oil stove, with the help of a jobman, was removed
+to the unfinished room over the kitchen, for the chief
+charm of the dinner was to be its secret preparation.
+Then, with the treasured butter-and-egg money the turkey,
+cranberries, nuts, and raisins were bought and smuggled
+into the house and upstairs to the chamber of mystery.</p>
+
+<p>Two days before Thanksgiving Cyrus came home to find
+a silent and almost empty kitchen. His heart skipped
+a beat and his jaw fell open in frightened amazement;
+then a step on the floor above sent the blood back
+to his face and a new bitterness to his heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So I ain&#8217;t even good enough ter stay
+with!&#8221; he muttered. &#8220;Fool!--fool!&#8221;
+he snarled, glaring at the oblong brown paper in his
+arms. &#8220;As if she&#8217;d care for this--now!&#8221;
+he finished, flinging the parcel into the farthest
+corner of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Unhappy Cyrus! To him, also, had come a great idea.
+Thanksgiving was not Christmas, to be sure, but if
+he chose to give presents on that day, surely it was
+no one&#8217;s business but his own, he argued. In
+the brown paper parcel at that moment lay the soft,
+shimmering folds of yards upon yards of black silk--and
+Huldah had been longing for a new black silk gown.
+Yet it was almost dark when Cyrus stumbled over to
+the corner, picked up the parcel, and carried it ruefully
+away to the shed-chamber.</p>
+
+<p>Thanksgiving dawned clear and unusually warm. The
+sun shone, and the air felt like spring. The sparrows
+twittered in the treetops as if the branches were
+green with leaves.</p>
+
+<p>To Cyrus, however, it was a world of gloom. Upstairs
+Huldah was singing-- singing!--and it was Thanksgiving.
+He could hear her feet patter, patter on the floor
+above, and the sound had a cheery self-reliance that
+was maddening. Huldah was happy, evidently--and it
+was Thanksgiving! Twice he had walked resolutely to
+the back stairs with a brown-paper parcel in his arms;
+and twice a quavering song of triumph from the room
+above had sent him back in defeat. As if she could
+care for a present of his!</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, now, Cyrus sprang forward in his chair,
+sniffing the air hungrily. Turkey! Huldah was roasting
+turkey, while he--</p>
+
+<p>The old man dropped back in his seat and turned his
+eyes disconsolately on the ill-kept stove--fried eggs
+and boiled potatoes are not the most toothsome prospect
+for a Thanksgiving dinner, particularly when one has
+the smell of a New England housewife&#8217;s turkey
+in one&#8217;s nostrils.</p>
+
+<p>For a time Cyrus sat motionless; then he rose to his
+feet, shuffled out of the house, and across the road
+to the barn.</p>
+
+<p>In the room above the kitchen, at that moment, something
+happened. Perhaps the old hands slipped in their eagerness,
+or perhaps the old eyes judged a distance wrongly.
+Whatever it was, there came a puff of smoke, a sputter,
+and a flare of light; then red-yellow flames leaped
+to the flimsy shade at the window, and swept on to
+the century-seasoned timbers above.</p>
+
+<p>With a choking cry, Huldah turned and stumbled across
+the room to the stairway. Out at the barn door Cyrus,
+too, saw the flare of light at the window, and he,
+too, turned with a choking cry.</p>
+
+<p>They met at the foot of the stairway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huldah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cyrus!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was as if one voice had spoken, so exactly were
+the words simultaneous. Then Cyrus cried:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You ain&#8217;t hurt?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no! Quick--the things--we must get them
+out!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Obediently Cyrus turned and began to work; and the
+first thing that his arms tenderly bore to safety
+was an oblong brown-paper parcel.</p>
+
+<p>From all directions then came the neighbors running.
+The farming settlement was miles from a town or a
+fire-engine. The house was small, and stood quite
+by itself; and there was little, after all, that could
+be done, except to save the household goods and gods.
+This was soon accomplished, and there was nothing
+to do but to watch the old house burn.</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus and Huldah sat hand in hand on an old stone
+wall, quite apart from their sympathetic neighbors,
+and--talked. And about them was a curious air of elation,
+a buoyancy as if long-pent forces had suddenly found
+a joyous escape.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;T ain&#8217;t as if our things wan&#8217;t
+all out,&#8221; cried Cyrus; his voice was actually
+exultant.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Or as if we hadn&#8217;t wanted to build a
+new one for years,&#8221; chirruped his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now you can have that &#8217;ere closet under
+the front stairs, Huldah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you can have the room for your tools where
+it&#8217;ll be warm in the winter!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; there&#8217;ll be the bow-winder
+out of the settin&#8217; room, Huldah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and a real bathroom, with water coming
+right out of the wall, same as the Wileys have!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; a tub, Huldah--one o&#8217; them
+pretty white chiny ones!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Cyrus, ain&#8217;t it almost too good to
+be true!&#8221; sighed Huldah: then her face changed.
+&#8220;Why, Cyrus, it&#8217;s gone,&#8221; she cried
+with sudden sharpness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s gone?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your dinner--I was cooking such a beautiful
+turkey and all the fixings for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A dull red came into the man&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For--me?&#8221; stammered Cyrus.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Y-yes,&#8221; faltered Huldah; then her chin
+came up defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>The man laughed; and there was a boyish ring to his
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, Huldah, I didn&#8217;t have any turkey,
+but I did have a tidy little piece o&#8217; black
+silk for yer gown, an&#8217; I saved it, too. Mebbe
+we could eat that!--eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was not until just as they were falling asleep
+that night in Deacon Clark&#8217;s spare bedroom that
+Mr. and Mrs. Gregg so much as hinted that there ever
+had been a quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>Then, under cover of the dark, Cyrus stammered:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huldah, did ye sense it? Them &#8217;ere words
+we said at the foot of the stairs was spoke--exactly--<i>together</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know, dear,&#8221; murmured Huldah,
+with a little break in her voice. Then:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cyrus, ain&#8217;t it wonderful--this Thanksgiving,
+for us?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Downstairs the Clarks were talking of poor old Mr.
+and Mrs. Gregg and their &#8220;sad loss;&#8221; but
+the Clarks did not--know.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_18"></a>A New England Idol</h1>
+
+<p>The Hapgood twins were born in the great square house
+that set back from the road just on the outskirts
+of Fairtown. Their baby eyes had opened upon a world
+of faded portraits and somber haircloth furniture,
+and their baby hands had eagerly clutched at crystal
+pendants on brass candlesticks gleaming out of the
+sacred darkness that enveloped the parlor mantel.</p>
+
+<p>When older grown they had played dolls in the wonderful
+attic, and made mud pies in the wilderness of a back
+yard. The garden had been a fairyland of delight to
+their toddling feet, and the apple trees a fragrant
+shelter for their first attempts at housekeeping.</p>
+
+<p>From babyhood to girlhood the charm of the old place
+grew upon them, so much so that the thought of leaving
+it for homes of their own became distasteful to them,
+and they looked with scant favor upon the occasional
+village youths who sauntered up the path presumably
+on courtship bent.</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend John Hapgood--a man who ruled himself
+and all about him with the iron rod of a rigid old-school
+orthodoxy--died when the twins were twenty; and the
+frail little woman who, as his wife, had for thirty
+years lived and moved solely because he expected breath
+and motion of her, followed soon in his footsteps.
+And then the twins were left alone in the great square
+house on the hill.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Tabitha and Miss Rachel were not the only children
+of the family. There had been a son--the first born,
+and four years their senior. The headstrong boy and
+the iron rule had clashed, and the boy, when sixteen
+years old, had fled, leaving no trace behind him.</p>
+
+<p>If the Reverend John Hapgood grieved for his wayward
+son the members of his household knew it not, save
+as they might place their own constructions on the
+added sternness to his eyes and the deepening lines
+about his mouth. &#8220;Paul,&#8221; when it designated
+the graceless runaway, was a forbidden word in the
+family, and even the Epistles in the sacred Book,
+bearing the prohibited name, came to be avoided by
+the head of the house in the daily readings. It was
+still music in the hearts of the women, however, though
+it never passed their lips; and when the little mother
+lay dying she remembered and spoke of her boy. The
+habit of years still fettered her tongue and kept
+it from uttering the name.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If--he--comes--you know--if he comes, be kind--be
+good,&#8221; she murmured, her breath short and labored.
+&#8220;Don&#8217;t--punish,&#8221; she whispered--he
+was yet a lad in her disordered vision. &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+punish--forgive!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Years had passed since then--years of peaceful mornings
+and placid afternoons, and Paul had never appeared.
+Each purpling of the lilacs in the spring and reddening
+of the apples in the fall took on new shades of loveliness
+in the fond eyes of the twins, and every blade of grass
+and tiny shrub became sacred to them.</p>
+
+<p>On the 10th of June, their thirty-fifth birthday,
+the place never had looked so lovely. A small table
+laid with spotless linen and gleaming silver stood
+beneath the largest apple-tree, a mute witness that
+the ladies were about to celebrate their birthday--the
+10th of June being the only day that the solemn dignity
+of the dining-room was deserted for the frivolous
+freedom of the lawn.</p>
+
+<p>Rachel came out of the house and sniffed the air joyfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Delicious!&#8221; she murmured. &#8220;Somehow,
+the 10th of June is specially fine every year.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In careful, uplifted hands she bore a round frosted
+cake, always the chief treasure of the birthday feast.
+The cake was covered with the tiny colored candies
+so dear to the heart of a child. Miss Rachel always
+bought those candies at the village store, with the
+apology:--</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want them for Tabitha&#8217;s birthday cake,
+you know. She thinks so much of pretty things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha invariably made the cake and iced it, and
+as she dropped the bits of colored sugar into place,
+she would explain to Huldy, who occasionally &#8220;helped&#8221;
+in the kitchen:--</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t miss the candy for the world--my
+sister thinks so much of it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So each deceived herself with this pleasant bit of
+fiction, and yet had what she herself most wanted.</p>
+
+<p>Rachel carefully placed the cake in the center of
+the table, feasted her eyes on its toothsome loveliness,
+then turned and hurried back to the house. The door
+had scarcely shut behind her when a small, ragged urchin
+darted in at the street gate, snatched the cake, and,
+at a sudden sound from the house, dashed out of sight
+behind a shrub close by.</p>
+
+<p>The sound that had frightened the boy was the tapping
+of the heels of Miss Tabitha&#8217;s shoes along the
+back porch. The lady descended the steps, crossed
+the lawn and placed a saucer of pickles and a plate
+of dainty sandwiches on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I thought Rachel brought the cake,&#8221;
+she said aloud. &#8220;It must be in the house; there&#8217;s
+other things to get, anyway. I&#8217;ll go back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the click of the door brought the small boy
+close to the table. Filling both hands with sandwiches,
+he slipped behind the shrub just as the ladies came
+out of the house together. Rachel carried a small tray
+laden with sauce and tarts; Tabitha, one with water
+and steaming tea. As they neared the table each almost
+dropped her burden.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, where&#8217;s my cake?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And my sandwiches?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s the plate it was on!&#8221; Rachel&#8217;s
+voice was growing in terror.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And mine, too!&#8221; cried Tabitha, with distended
+eyes fastened on some bits of bread and meat--all
+that the small brown hands had left.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s burglars--robbers!&#8221; Rachel
+looked furtively over her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And all your lovely cake!&#8221; almost sobbed
+Tabitha.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It--it was yours, too,&#8221; said the other
+with a catch in her voice. &#8220;Oh, dear! What can
+have happened to it? I never heard of such a thing--right
+in broad daylight!&#8221; The sisters had long ago
+set their trays upon the ground and were now wringing
+their hands helplessly. Suddenly a small figure appeared
+before them holding out four sadly crushed sandwiches
+and half of a crumbling cake.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry--awful sorry! I didn&#8217;t
+think--I was so hungry. I&#8217;m afraid there ain&#8217;t
+very much left,&#8221; he added, with rueful eyes on
+the sandwiches.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, I should say not!&#8221; vouchsafed Rachel,
+her voice firm now that the size of the &#8220;burglar&#8221;
+was declared. Tabitha only gasped.</p>
+
+<p>The small boy placed the food upon the empty plates,
+and Rachel&#8217;s lips twitched as she saw that he
+clumsily tried to arrange it in an orderly fashion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, ma&#8217;am,--that looks pretty good!&#8221;
+he finally announced with some pride.</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha made an involuntary gesture of aversion. Rachel
+laughed outright; then her face grew suddenly stern.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Boy, what do you mean by such actions?&#8221;
+she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>His eyes fell, and his cheeks showed red through the
+tan.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was hungry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But didn&#8217;t you know it was stealing?&#8221;
+she asked, her face softening.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t stop to think--it looked so
+good I couldn&#8217;t help takin&#8217; it.&#8221;
+He dug his bare toes in the grass for a moment in silence,
+then he raised his head with a jerk and stood squarely
+on both feet. &#8220;I hain&#8217;t got any money,
+but I&#8217;ll work to pay for it--bringin&#8217; wood
+in, or somethin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The dear child!&#8221; murmured two voices
+softly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got to find my folks, sometime,
+but I&#8217;ll do the work first. Mebbe an hour&#8217;ll
+pay for it--&#8217;most!&#8221;--He looked hopefully
+into Miss Rachel&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who are your folks?&#8221; she asked huskily.</p>
+
+<p>By way of answer he handed out a soiled, crumpled
+envelope for her inspection on which was written,
+&#8220;Reverend John Hapgood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why--it&#8217;s father!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; exclaimed Tabitha.</p>
+
+<p>Her sister tore the note open with shaking fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s from--Paul!&#8221; she breathed,
+hesitating a conscientious moment over the name. Then
+she turned her startled eyes on the boy, who was regarding
+her with lively interest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do I belong to you?&#8221; he asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I don&#8217;t know. Who are you--what&#8217;s
+your name?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ralph Hapgood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha had caught up the note and was devouring it
+with swift-moving eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s Paul&#8217;s boy, Rachel,&#8221;
+she broke in, &#8220;only think of it--Paul&#8217;s
+boy!&#8221; and she dropped the bit of paper and enveloped
+the lad in a fond but tearful embrace.</p>
+
+<p>He squirmed uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry I eat up my own folks&#8217;s
+things. I&#8217;ll go to work any time,&#8221; he
+suggested, trying to draw away, and wiping a tear splash
+from the back of his hand on his trousers.</p>
+
+<p>But it was long hours before Ralph Hapgood was allowed
+to &#8220;go to work.&#8221; Tears, kisses, embraces,
+questions, a bath, and clean clothes followed each
+other in quick succession--the clothes being some of
+his own father&#8217;s boyhood garments.</p>
+
+<p>His story was quickly told. His mother was long since
+dead, and his father had written on his dying bed
+the letter that commended the boy-- so soon to be
+orphaned--to the pity and care of his grandparents.
+The sisters trembled and changed color at the story
+of the boy&#8217;s hardships on the way to Fairtown;
+and they plied him with questions and sandwiches in
+about equal proportions after he told of the frequent
+dinnerless days and supperless nights of the journey.</p>
+
+<p>That evening when the boy was safe in bed--clean,
+full-stomached, and sleepily content the sisters talked
+it over. The Reverend John Hapgood, in his will, had
+cut off his recreant son with the proverbial shilling,
+so, by law, there was little coming to Ralph. This,
+however, the sisters overlooked in calm disdain.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We must keep him, anyhow,&#8221; said Rachel
+with decision.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, indeed,--the dear child!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s twelve, for all he&#8217;s so small,
+but he hasn&#8217;t had much schooling. We must see
+to that--we want him well educated,&#8221; continued
+Rachel, a pink spot showing in either cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed we do--we&#8217;ll send him to college!
+I wonder, now, wouldn&#8217;t he like to be a doctor?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; admitted the other cautiously,
+&#8220;or a minister.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure enough--he might like that better; I&#8217;m
+going to ask him!&#8221; and she sprang to her feet
+and tripped across the room to the parlor-bedroom
+door. &#8220;Ralph,&#8221; she called softly, after
+turning the knob, &#8220;are you asleep?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh? N-no, ma&#8217;am.&#8221; The voice nearly
+gave the lie to the words.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, dear, we were wondering--would you rather
+be a minister or a doctor?&#8221; she asked, much
+as though she were offering for choice a peach and
+a pear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A doctor!&#8221; came emphatically from out
+of the dark--there was no sleep in the voice now.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve always wanted to be a doctor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You shall, oh, you shall!&#8221; promised the
+woman ecstatically, going back to her sister; and
+from that time all their lives were ordered with that
+one end in view.</p>
+
+<p>The Hapgood twins were far from wealthy. They owned
+the homestead, but their income was small, and the
+added mouth to fill--and that a hungry one--counted.
+As the years passed, Huldy came less and less frequently
+to help in the kitchen, and the sisters&#8217; gowns
+grew more and more rusty and darned.</p>
+
+<p>Ralph, boylike, noticed nothing--indeed, half the
+year he was away at school; but as the time drew near
+for the college course and its attendant expenses,
+the sisters were sadly troubled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We might sell,&#8221; suggested Tabitha, a
+little choke in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>Rachel started.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, sister!--sell? Oh, no, we couldn&#8217;t
+do that!&#8221; she shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what can we do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do?--why lots of things!&#8221; Rachel&#8217;s
+lips came together with a snap. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+coming berry time, and there&#8217;s our chickens,
+and the garden did beautifully last year. Then there&#8217;s
+your lace work and my knitting-- they bring something.
+Sell? Oh--we couldn&#8217;t do that!&#8221; And she
+abruptly left the room and went out into the yard.
+There she lovingly trained a wayward vine with new
+shoots going wrong, and gloated over the rosebushes
+heavy with crimson buds.</p>
+
+<p>But as the days and weeks flew by and September drew
+the nearer, Rachel&#8217;s courage failed her. Berries
+had been scarce, the chickens had died, the garden
+had suffered from drought, and but for their lace and
+knitting work, their income would have dwindled to
+a pitiful sum indeed. Ralph had been gone all summer;
+he had asked to go camping and fishing with some of
+his school friends. He was expected home a week before
+the college opened, however.</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha grew more and more restless every day. Finally
+she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rachel, we&#8217;ll have to sell--there isn&#8217;t
+any other way. It would bring a lot,&#8221; she continued
+hurriedly, before her sister could speak, &#8220;and
+we could find some pretty rooms somewhere. It wouldn&#8217;t
+be so very dreadful!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t, Tabitha! Seems as though I couldn&#8217;t
+bear even to speak of it. Sell?--oh, Tabitha!&#8221;
+Then her voice changed from a piteous appeal to one
+of forced conviction.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We couldn&#8217;t get anywhere near what it&#8217;s
+worth, Tabitha, anyway. No one here wants it or can
+afford to buy it for what it ought to bring. It is
+really absurd to think of it. Of course, if I had an
+offer--a good big one--that would be quite another
+thing; but there&#8217;s no hope of that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Rachel&#8217;s lips said &#8220;hope,&#8221; but her
+heart said &#8220;danger,&#8221; and the latter was
+what she really meant. She did not know that but two
+hours before, a stranger had said to a Fairtown lawyer:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want a summer home in this locality. You
+don&#8217;t happen to know of a good old treasure
+of a homestead for sale, do you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not,&#8221; replied the lawyer. &#8220;There&#8217;s
+a place on the edge of the village that would be just
+the ticket, but I don&#8217;t suppose it could be
+bought for love nor money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is it?&#8221; asked the man eagerly.
+&#8220;You never know what money can do-- to say nothing
+of love--till you try.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer chuckled softly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the Hapgood place. I&#8217;ll drive
+you over to-morrow. It&#8217;s owned by two old maids,
+and they worship every stick and stone and blade of
+grass that belongs to it. However, I happen to know
+that cash is rather scarce with them--and there&#8217;s
+ample chance for love, if the money fails,&#8221; he
+added, with a twitching of his lips.</p>
+
+<p>When the two men drove into the yard that August morning,
+the Hapgood twins were picking nasturtiums, and the
+flaming yellows and scarlets lighted up their somber
+gowns, and made patches of brilliant color against
+the gray of the house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By Jove, it&#8217;s a picture!&#8221; exclaimed
+the would-be purchaser.</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer smiled and sprang to the ground. Introductions
+swiftly followed, then he cleared his throat in some
+embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ahem! I&#8217;ve brought Mr. Hazelton up here,
+ladies, because he was interested in your beautiful
+place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Rachel smiled--the smile of proud possession;
+then something within her seemed to tighten, and she
+caught her breath sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is fine!&#8221; murmured Hazelton; &#8220;and
+the view is grand!&#8221; he continued, his eyes on
+the distant hills. Then he turned abruptly. &#8220;Ladies,
+I believe in coming straight to the point. I want
+a summer home, and--I want this one. Can I tempt you
+to part with it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, no!&#8221; began Rachel almost fiercely.
+Then her voice sank to a whisper; &#8220;I--I don&#8217;t
+think you could.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, sister,&#8221; interposed Tabitha, her
+face alight, &#8220;you know you said-- that is, there
+are circumstances--perhaps he would--p-pay enough--&#8221;
+Her voice stumbled over the hated word, then stopped,
+while her face burned scarlet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pay!--no human mortal could pay for this house!&#8221;
+flashed Rachel indignantly. Then she turned to Hazelton,
+her slight form drawn to its greatest height, and
+her hands crushing the flowers, she held till the
+brittle stems snapped, releasing a fluttering shower
+of scarlet and gold. &#8220;Mr. Hazelton, to carry
+out certain wishes very near to our hearts, we need
+money. We will show you the place, and--and we will
+consider your offer,&#8221; she finished faintly.
+It was a dreary journey the sisters took that morning,
+though the garden never had seemed lovelier, nor the
+rooms more sacredly beautiful. In the end, Hazelton&#8217;s
+offer was so fabulously enormous to their unwilling
+ears that their conscience forbade them to refuse
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll have the necessary papers ready
+to sign in a few days,&#8221; said the lawyer as the
+two gentlemen turned to go. And Hazelton added: &#8220;If
+at any time before that you change your minds and
+find you cannot give it up-- just let me know and
+it will be all right. Just think it over till then,&#8221;
+he said kindly, the dumb woe in their eyes appealing
+to him as the loudest lamentations could not have
+done. &#8220;But if you don&#8217;t mind, I&#8217;d
+like to have an architect, who is in town just now,
+come up and look it over with me,&#8221; he finished.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Certainly, sir, certainly,&#8221; said Rachel,
+longing for the man to go. But when he was gone, she
+wished him back--anything would be better than this
+aimless wandering from room to room, and from yard
+to garden and back again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose <i>he</i> will sit here,&#8221;
+murmured Tabitha, dropping wearily on to the settee
+under the apple-trees.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose so,&#8221; her sister assented. &#8220;I
+wonder if <i>she</i> knows how to grow roses;
+they&#8217;ll certainly die if she doesn&#8217;t!&#8221;
+And Rachel crushed a worm under her foot with unnecessary
+vigor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I hope they&#8217;ll tend to the vines
+on the summerhouse, Rachel, and the pansies--you don&#8217;t
+think they&#8217;ll let them run to seed, do you? Oh,
+dear!&#8221; And Tabitha sprang nervously to her feet
+and started backyto the house.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hazelton appeared the next morning with two men--an
+architect and a landscape gardener. Rachel was in
+the summerhouse, and the first she knew of their presence
+was the sound of talking outside.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll want to grade it down there,&#8221;
+she heard a strange voice say, &#8220;and fill in
+that little hollow; clear away all those rubbishy posies,
+and mass your flowering shrubs in the background. Those
+roses are no particular good, I fancy; we&#8217;ll
+move such as are worth anything, and make a rose-bed
+on the south side--we&#8217;ll talk over the varieties
+you want, later. Of course these apple-trees and those
+lilacs will be cut down, and this summerhouse will
+be out of the way. You&#8217;ll be surprised-- a few
+changes will do wonders, and--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He stopped abruptly. A woman, tall, flushed, and angry-eyed,
+stood before him in the path. She opened her lips,
+but no sound came--Mr. Hazelton was lifting his hat.
+The flush faded, and her eyes closed as though to
+shut out some painful sight; then she bowed her head
+with a proud gesture, and sped along the way to the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Once inside, she threw herself, sobbing, upon the
+bed. Tabitha found her there an hour later.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You poor dear--they&#8217;ve gone now,&#8221;
+she comforted.</p>
+
+<p>Rachel raised her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re going to cut down everything--every
+single thing!&#8221; she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it,&#8221; choked Tabitha, &#8220;and
+they&#8217;re going to tear out lots of doors inside,
+and build in windows and things. Oh, Rachel,--what
+shall we do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, oh, I don&#8217;t know!&#8221;
+moaned the woman on the bed, diving into the pillows
+and hugging them close to her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We--we might give up selling--he said we could
+if we wanted to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But there&#8217;s Ralph!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it. Oh, dear--what can we do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Rachel suddenly sat upright.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do? Why, we&#8217;ll stand it, of course. We
+just mustn&#8217;t mind if he turns the house into
+a hotel and the yard into a--a pasture!&#8221; she
+said hysterically. &#8220;We must just think of Ralph
+and of his being a doctor. Come, let&#8217;s go to
+the village and see if we can rent that tenement of
+old Mrs. Goddard&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With a long sigh and a smothered sob, Tabitha went
+to get her hat.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goddard greeted the sisters effusively, and displayed
+her bits of rooms and the tiny square of yard with
+the plainly expressed wish that the place might be
+their home.</p>
+
+<p>The twins said little, but their eyes were troubled.
+They left with the promise to think it over and let
+Mrs. Goddard know.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t suppose rooms could be so little,&#8221;
+whispered Tabitha, as they closed the gate behind
+them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We couldn&#8217;t grow as much as a sunflower
+in that yard,&#8221; faltered Rachel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, anyhow, we could have some houseplants!&#8221;--Tabitha
+tried to speak cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed we could!&#8221; agreed Rachel, rising
+promptly to her sister&#8217;s height; &#8220;and,
+after all, little rooms are lots cheaper to heat than
+big ones.&#8221; And there the matter ended for the
+time being.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hazelton and the lawyer with the necessary papers
+appeared a few days later. As the lawyer took off
+his hat he handed a letter to Miss Rachel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I stepped into the office and got your mail,&#8221;
+he said genially.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; replied the lady, trying
+to smile. &#8220;It&#8217;s from Ralph,&#8221;-- handing
+it over for her sister to read.</p>
+
+<p>Both the ladies were in somber black; a ribbon or
+a brooch seemed out of place to them that day. Tabitha
+broke the seal of the letter, and retired to the light
+of the window to read it.</p>
+
+<p>The papers were spread on the table, and the pen was
+in Rachel&#8217;s hand when a scream from Tabitha
+shattered the oppressive silence of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stop--stop--oh, stop!&#8221; she cried, rushing
+to her sister and snatching the pen from her fingers.
+&#8220;We don&#8217;t have to--see--read!&#8221;--pointing
+to the postscript written in a round, boyish hand.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, I say, I&#8217;ve got a surprise for you. You
+think I&#8217;ve been fishing and loafing all summer,
+but I&#8217;ve been working for the hotels here the
+whole time. I&#8217;ve got a fine start on my money
+for college, and I&#8217;ve got a chance to work for
+my board all this year by helping Professor Heaton.
+I met him here this summer, and he&#8217;s the right
+sort--every time. I&#8217;ve intended all along to
+help myself a bit when it came to the college racket,
+but I didn&#8217;t mean to tell you until I knew I
+could do it. But it&#8217;s a sure thing now.</p>
+
+<p>Bye-bye; I&#8217;ll be home next Saturday.</p>
+
+<p>Your aff. nephew,</p>
+
+<p>Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>Rachel had read this aloud, but her voice ended in
+a sob instead of in the boy&#8217;s name. Hazelton
+brushed the back of his hand across his eyes, and
+the lawyer looked intently out the window. For a moment
+there was a silence that could be felt, then Hazelton
+stepped to the table and fumbled noisily with the
+papers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ladies, I withdraw my offer,&#8221; he announced.
+&#8220;I can&#8217;t afford to buy this house--I can&#8217;t
+possibly afford it--it&#8217;s too expensive.&#8221;
+And without another word he left the room, motioning
+the lawyer to follow.</p>
+
+<p>The sisters looked into each other&#8217;s eyes and
+drew a long, sobbing breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rachel, is it true?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Tabitha! Let&#8217;s--let&#8217;s go out
+under the apple-trees and--just know that they are
+there!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And hand in hand they went.</p>
+
+<p style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps">The End </p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Years, by Eleanor H. Porter
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE YEARS ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Years, by Eleanor H. Porter
+#9 in our series by Eleanor H. Porter
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
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+**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
+
+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Across the Years
+
+Author: Eleanor H. Porter
+
+Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6991]
+[This file last updated on June 20, 2010]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on February 20, 2003]
+
+Edition: 11
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: Latin-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE YEARS ***
+
+
+
+
+This eBook produced by Curtis A. Weyant, Charles Franks,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+ACROSS THE YEARS
+
+BY
+
+ELEANOR H. PORTER
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+
+WHEN FATHER AND MOTHER REBELLED
+JUPITER ANN
+THE AXMINSTER PATH
+PHINEAS AND THE MOTOR CAR
+THE MOST WONDERFUL WOMAN
+THE PRICE OF A PAIR OF SHOES
+THE LONG ROAD
+A COUPLE OF CAPITALISTS
+IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF KATY
+THE BRIDGE ACROSS THE YEARS
+FOR JIMMY
+A SUMMONS HOME
+THE BLACK SILK GOWNS
+A BELATED HONEYMOON
+WHEN AUNT ABBY WAKED UP
+WRISTERS FOR THREE
+THE GIVING THANKS OF CYRUS AND HULDAH
+A NEW ENGLAND IDOL
+
+
+
+The stories in this volume are here reprinted by the courteous
+permission of the publishers of the periodicals in which they first
+appeared,--The Ladies' Home Journal, Ainslee's Magazine, The Scrap
+Book, The New England Magazine, The Pictorial Review, The Housewife,
+The Pacific Monthly, The Arena, Lippincott's Magazine, Harper's Bazaar,
+The Century Magazine, Woman, Holland's Magazine, The Designer.
+
+
+
+
+When Father and Mother Rebelled
+
+
+
+"'Tain't more 'n a month ter Christmas, Lyddy Ann; did ye know it?" said
+the old man, settling back in his chair with a curiously resigned sigh.
+
+"Yes, I know, Samuel," returned his wife, sending a swift glance over
+the top of her glasses.
+
+If Samuel Bertram noticed the glance he made no sign. "Hm!" he murmured.
+"I've got ten neckerchiefs now. How many crocheted bed-slippers you
+got?--eh?"
+
+"Oh, Samuel!" remonstrated Lydia Ann feebly.
+
+"I don't care," asserted Samuel with sudden vehemence, sitting erect in
+his chair. "Seems as if we might get somethin' for Christmas 'sides
+slippers an' neckerchiefs. Jest 'cause we ain't so young as we once was
+ain't no sign that we've lost all our faculty for enj'yment!"
+
+"But, Samuel, they're good an' kind, an' want ter give us somethin',"
+faltered Lydia Ann; "and--"
+
+"Yes, I know they're good an' kind," cut in Samuel wrathfully. "We've
+got three children, an' each one brings us a Christmas present ev'ry
+year. They've got so they do it reg'lar now, jest the same as they--they
+go ter bed ev'ry night," he finished, groping a little for his simile.
+"An' they put jest about as much thought into it, too," he added grimly.
+
+"My grief an' conscience, Samuel,--how can you talk so!" gasped the
+little woman opposite.
+
+"Well, they do," persisted Samuel. "They buy a pair o' slippers an' a
+neckerchief, an' tuck 'em into their bag for us--an' that's done; an'
+next year they do the same--an' it's done again. Oh, I know I'm
+ongrateful, an' all that," acknowledged Samuel testily, "but I can't
+help it. I've been jest ready to bile over ever since last Christmas,
+an' now I have biled over. Look a-here, Lyddy Ann, we ain't so awful
+old. You're seventy-three an' I'm seventy-six, an' we're pert as
+sparrers, both of us. Don't we live here by ourselves, an' do most all
+the work inside an' outside the house?"
+
+"Yes," nodded Lydia Ann timidly.
+
+"Well, ain't there somethin' you can think of sides slippers you'd like
+for Christmas--'specially as you never wear crocheted bed-slippers?"
+
+Lydia Ann stirred uneasily. "Why, of course, Samuel," she began
+hesitatingly, "bed-slippers are very nice, an'--"
+
+"So's codfish!" interrupted Samuel in open scorn. "Come," he coaxed,
+"jest supposin' we was youngsters again, a-tellin' Santa Claus what we
+wanted. What would you ask for?"
+
+Lydia Ann laughed. Her cheeks grew pink, and the lost spirit of her
+youth sent a sudden sparkle to her eyes. "You'd laugh, dearie. I ain't
+a-goin' ter tell."
+
+"I won't--'pon honor!"
+
+"But it's so silly," faltered Lydia Ann, her cheeks a deeper pink.
+"Me--an old woman!"
+
+"Of course," agreed Samuel promptly. "It's bound ter be silly, ye know,
+if we want anythin' but slippers an' neckerchiefs," he added with a
+chuckle. "Come--out with it, Lyddy Ann."
+
+"It's--it's a tree."
+
+"Dampers and doughnuts!" ejaculated Samuel, his jaw dropping. "A tree!"
+
+"There, I knew you'd laugh," quavered Lydia Ann, catching up her
+knitting.
+
+"Laugh? Not a bit of it!" averred Samuel stoutly. "I--I want a tree
+myself!"
+
+"Ye see, it's just this," apologized Lydia Ann feverishly. "They give us
+things, of course, but they never make anythin' of doin' it, not even
+ter tyin' 'em up with a piece of red ribbon. They just slip into our
+bedroom an' leave 'em all done up in brown paper an' we find 'em after
+they're gone. They mean it all kind, but I'm so tired of gray worsted
+and sensible things. Of course I can't have a tree, an' I don't suppose
+I really want it; but I'd like somethin' all pretty an' sparkly an'--an'
+silly, you know. An' there's another thing I want--ice cream. An' I want
+to make myself sick eatin' it, too,--if I want to; an' I want little
+pink-an'-white sugar pep'mints hung in bags. Samuel, can't you see how
+pretty a bag o' pink pep'mints 'd be on that green tree? An'--dearie
+me!" broke off the little old woman breathlessly, falling back in her
+chair. "How I'm runnin' on! I reckon I <i>am</i> in my dotage."
+
+For a moment Samuel did not reply. His brow was puckered into a
+prodigious frown, and his right hand had sought the back of his head--as
+was always the case when in deep thought. Suddenly his face cleared.
+
+"Ye ain't in yer dotage--by gum, ye ain't!" he cried excitedly. "An' I
+ain't, neither. An' what's more, you're a-goin' ter have that tree--ice
+cream, pink pep'mints, an' all!"
+
+"Oh, my grief an' conscience--Samuel!" quavered Lydia Ann.
+
+"Well, ye be. We can do it easy, too. We'll have it the night 'fore
+Christmas. The children don't get here until Christmas day, ever, ye
+know, so 't won't interfere a mite with their visit, an' 'twill be all
+over 'fore they get here. An' we'll make a party of it, too," went on
+Samuel gleefully. "There's the Hopkinses an' old Mis' Newcomb, an' Uncle
+Tim, an' Grandpa Gowin'--they'll all come an' be glad to."
+
+"Samuel, could we?" cried Lydia Ann, incredulous but joyous. "Could we,
+really?"
+
+"I'll get the tree myself," murmured Samuel, aloud, "an' we can buy some
+o' that shiny stuff up ter the store ter trim it."
+
+"An' I'll get some of that pink-an'-white tarl'tan for bags," chimed in
+Lydia Ann happily: "the pink for the white pep'mints, an' the white for
+the pink. Samuel, won't it be fun?" And to hear her one would have
+thought her seventeen instead of seventy-three.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A week before Christmas Samuel Bertram's only daughter, Ella, wrote this
+letter to each of her brothers:
+
+It has occurred to me that it might be an excellent idea if we would
+plan to spend a little more time this year with Father and Mother when
+we go for our usual Christmas visit; and what kind of a scheme do you
+think it would be for us to take the children, and make a real family
+reunion of it?
+
+I figure that we could all get there by four o'clock the day before
+Christmas, if we planned for it; and by staying perhaps two days after
+Christmas we could make quite a visit. What do you say? You see Father
+and Mother are getting old, and we can't have them with us many more
+years, anyway; and I'm sure this would please them--only we must be
+very careful not to make it too exciting for them.
+
+The letters were dispatched with haste, and almost by return mail came
+the answers; an emphatic approval, and a promise of hearty cooperation
+signed "Frank" and "Ned." What is every one's business is apt to be no
+one's business, however, and no one notified Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Bertram
+of the change of plan, each thinking that one of the others would attend
+to it.
+
+"As for presents," mused Ella, as she hurried downtown two days before
+Christmas, "I never can think what to give them; but, after all, there's
+nothing better than bed-slippers for Mother, and a warm neckerchief for
+Father's throat. Those are always good."
+
+The day before Christmas dawned clear and cold. It had been expected
+that Ella, her husband, and her twin boys would arrive at the little
+village station a full hour before the train from the north bringing
+Ned, Mrs. Ned, and little Mabel, together with Frank and his wife and
+son; but Ella's train was late--so late that it came in a scant five
+minutes ahead of the other one, and thus brought about a joyous greeting
+between the reunited families on the station platform itself.
+
+"Why, it's not so bad we were late, after all," cried Ella. "This is
+fine--now we can all go together!"
+
+"Jove! but we're a cheery sight!" exclaimed Ned, as he counted off on
+his fingers the blooming faces of those about him. "There are ten of
+us!"
+
+"Only fancy what they'll say at the house when they catch their first
+glimpse of us!" chuckled Frank. "The dear old souls! How Father's eyes
+will shine and Mother's cap-strings bob! By the way, of course they know
+we're coming to-day?"
+
+There was a moment's silence; then Ella flushed. "Why! didn't--didn't
+you tell them?" she stammered.
+
+"I? Why, of course not!" cried Frank. "I supposed you were going to. But
+maybe Ned-" He paused and turned questioning eyes on his brother.
+
+Ned shook his head. "Not I," he said.
+
+"Why, then--then they don't know," cried Ella, aghast. "They don't know
+a thing!"
+
+"Never mind, come on," laughed Ned. "What difference does it make?"
+
+"'What difference does it make'!" retorted Ella indignantly. "Ned
+Bertram, do you suppose I'd take the risk of ten of us pouncing down on
+those two poor dears like this by surprise? Certainly not!"
+
+"But, Ella, they're expecting six of us to-morrow," remonstrated Frank.
+
+"Very true. But that's not ten of us to-day."
+
+"I know; but so far as the work is concerned, you girls always do the
+most of that," cut in Ned.
+
+"Work! It isn't the work," almost groaned Ella. "Don't you see, boys?
+It's the excitement--'twouldn't do for them at all. We must fix it some
+way. Come, let's go into the waiting-room and talk it up."
+
+It was not until after considerable discussion that their plans were
+finally made and their line of march decided upon. To advance in the
+open and take the house by storm was clearly out of the question, though
+Ned remarked that in all probability the dear old creatures would be
+dozing before the fire, and would not discover their approach. Still, it
+would be wiser to be on the safe side; and it was unanimously voted that
+Frank should go ahead alone and reconnoiter, preparing the way for the
+rest, who could wait, meanwhile, at the little hotel not far from the
+house.
+
+The short winter day had drawn almost to a close when Frank turned in at
+the familiar gate of the Bertram homestead. His hand had not reached the
+white knob of the bell, however, when the eager expectancy of his face
+gave way to incredulous amazement; from within, clear and distinct, had
+come the sound of a violin.
+
+"Why, what--" he cried under his breath, and softly pushed open the
+door.
+
+The hall was almost dark, but the room beyond was a blaze of light, with
+the curtains drawn, and apparently every lamp the house contained
+trimmed and burning. He himself stood in the shadow, and his entrance
+had been unnoticed, though almost the entire expanse of the room before
+him was visible through the half-open doorway.
+
+In the farther corner of the room a large evergreen tree, sparkling with
+candles and tinsel stars, was hung with bags of pink and white tarletan
+and festoons of puffy popcorn. Near it sat an old man playing the
+violin; and his whole wiry self seemed to quiver with joy to the tune of
+his merry "Money Musk." In the center of the room two gray-haired men
+were dancing an old-time jig, bobbing, bowing, and twisting about in a
+gleeful attempt to outdo each other. Watching them were three old women
+and another old man, eating ice cream and contentedly munching
+peppermints. And here, there, and everywhere was the mistress of the
+house, Lydia Ann herself, cheeks flushed and cap-strings flying, but
+plainly in her element and joyously content.
+
+For a time the man by the hall door watched in silent amazement; then
+with a low ejaculation he softly let himself out of the house, and
+hurried back to the hotel.
+
+"Well?" greeted half a dozen voices; and one added: "What did they say?"
+
+Frank shook his head and dropped into the nearest chair. "I--I didn't
+tell them," he stammered faintly.
+
+"Didn't tell them!" exclaimed Ella. "Why, Frank, what was the trouble?
+Were they sick? Surely, they were not upset by just seeing you!"
+Frank's eyes twinkled "Well, hardly!" he retorted. "They--they're having
+a party."
+
+"A party!" shrieked half a dozen voices.
+
+"Yes; and a tree, and a dance, and ice cream, and pink peppermints,"
+Frank enumerated in one breath.
+
+There was a chorus of expostulation; then Ella's voice rose dominant.
+"Frank Bertram, what on earth do you mean?" she demanded. "Who is having
+all this?"
+
+"Father and Mother," returned Frank, his lips twitching a little. "And
+they've got old Uncle Tim and half a dozen others for guests."
+
+"But, Frank, how can they be having all this?" faltered Ella. "Why,
+Father's not so very far from eighty years old, and--Mabel, Mabel, my
+dear!" she broke off in sudden reproof to her young niece, who had come
+under her glance at that moment. "Those are presents for Grandpa and
+Grandma. I wouldn't play with them."
+
+Mabel hesitated, plainly rebellious. In each hand was a gray worsted
+bed-slipper; atop of her yellow curls was a brown neckerchief, cap
+fashion.
+
+There were exclamations from two men, and Ned came forward hurriedly.
+"Oh, I say, Ella," he remonstrated, "you didn't get those for presents,
+did you?"
+
+"But I did. Why not?" questioned Ella.
+
+"Why, I got slippers, you see. I never can think of anything else.
+Besides, they're always good, anyhow. But I should think <i>you</i>, a
+<i>woman</i>, could think of something--"
+
+"Never mind," interrupted Ella airily. "Mother's a dear, and she won't
+care if she does get two pairs."
+
+"But she won't want three pairs," groaned Frank; "and I got slippers
+too!"
+
+There was a moment of dismayed silence, then everybody laughed.
+
+Ella was the first to speak. "It's too bad, of course, but never mind.
+Mother'll see the joke of it just as we do. You know she never seems to
+care what we give her. Old people don't have many wants, I fancy."
+
+Frank stirred suddenly and walked the length of the room. Then he
+wheeled about.
+
+"Do you know," he said, a little unsteadily, "I believe that's a
+mistake?"
+
+"A mistake? What's a mistake?"
+
+"The notion that old people don't have any--wants. See here. They're
+having a party down there--a party, and they must have got it up
+themselves. Such being the case, of course they had what they wanted for
+entertainment--and they aren't drinking tea or knitting socks. They're
+dancing jigs and eating pink peppermints and ice cream! Their eyes are
+like stars, and Mother's cheeks are like a girl's; and if you think I'm
+going to offer those spry young things a brown neckerchief and a pair of
+bed-slippers you're much mistaken--because I'm not!"
+
+"But what--can--we do?" stammered Ella.
+
+"We can buy something else here--to-night--in the village," declared
+Frank; "and to-morrow morning we can go and give it to them."
+
+"But--buy what?"
+
+"I haven't the least idea," retorted Frank, with an airy wave of his
+hands. "Maybe 'twill be a diamond tiara and a polo pony. Anyway, I know
+what 'twon't be--'twon't be slippers or a neckerchief!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was later than usual that Christmas morning when Mr. and Mrs. Samuel
+Bertram arose. If the old stomachs had rebelled a little at the pink
+peppermints and ice cream, and if the old feet had charged toll for
+their unaccustomed activity of the night before, neither Samuel nor
+Lydia Ann would acknowledge it.
+
+"Well, we had it--that tree!" chuckled Samuel, as he somewhat stiffly
+thrust himself into his clothes.
+
+"We did, Samuel,--we did," quavered Lydia Ann joyfully, "an' wa'n't it
+nice? Mis' Hopkins said she never had such a good time in all her life
+before."
+
+"An' Uncle Tim an' Grandpa Gowin'--they was as spry as crickets, an'
+they made old Pete tune up that 'Money Musk' three times 'fore they'd
+quit."
+
+"Yes; an'--my grief an' conscience, Samuel! 'tis late, ain't it?" broke
+off Lydia Ann, anxiously peering at the clock. "Come, come, dear, you'll
+have ter hurry 'bout gettin' that tree out of the front room 'fore
+the children get here. I wouldn't have 'em know for the world how silly
+we've been--not for the world!"
+
+Samuel bridled, but his movements showed a perceptible increase of
+speed.
+
+"Well, I do' know," he chuckled.
+
+"'T wa'n't anythin' so awful, after all. But, say," he called
+triumphantly a moment later, as he stooped and picked up a small object
+from the floor, "they will find out if you don't hide these 'ere
+pep'mints!"
+
+The tree and the peppermints had scarcely disappeared from the "front
+room" when Frank arrived.
+
+"Oh, they're all coming in a minute," he laughed gayly in response to
+the surprised questions that greeted him. "And we've brought the
+children, too. You'll have a houseful, all right!"
+
+A houseful it certainly proved to be, and a lively one, too. In the
+kitchen "the girls" as usual reigned supreme, and bundled off the little
+mother to "visit with the boys and the children" during the process of
+dinner-getting, and after dinner they all gathered around the fireplace
+for games and stories.
+
+"And now," said Frank when darkness came and the lamps were lighted,
+"I've got a new game, but it's a very mysterious game, and you, Father
+and Mother, must not know a thing about it until it's all ready." And
+forthwith he conducted the little old man and the little old woman out
+into the kitchen with great ceremony.
+
+"Say, Samuel, seems as if this was 'most as good as the party,"
+whispered Lydia Ann excitedly, as they waited in the dark. "I know it;
+an' they hain't asked us once if we was gettin' too tired! Did ye
+notice, Lyddy Ann?"
+
+"Yes, an' they didn't make us take naps, either. Ain't it nice? Why,
+Samuel, I--I shan't mind even the bed-slippers now," she laughed.
+
+"Ready!" called Frank, and the dining-room door was thrown wide open.
+
+The old eyes blinked a little at the sudden light, then widened in
+amazement. Before the fireplace was a low sewing-table with a chair at
+each end. The table itself was covered with a white cloth which lay in
+fascinating little ridges and hillocks indicating concealed treasures
+beneath. About the table were grouped the four eager-eyed grandchildren
+and their no less eager-eyed parents. With still another ceremonious bow
+Frank escorted the little old man and the little old woman to the
+waiting chairs, and with a merry "One, two, three!" whisked off the
+cloth.
+
+For one amazed instant there was absolute silence; then Lydia Ann drew a
+long breath.
+
+"Samuel, Samuel, they're presents--an' for us!" she quavered joyously.
+"It's the bed-slippers and the neckerchiefs, an' they did 'em all up in
+white paper an' red ribbons just for us."
+
+At the corner of the mantelpiece a woman choked suddenly and felt for
+her handkerchief. Behind her two men turned sharply and walked toward
+the window; but the little old man and the little old woman did not
+notice it. They had forgotten everything but the enchanting array of
+mysteries before them.
+
+Trembling old hands hovered over the many-sized, many-shaped packages,
+and gently patted the perky red bows; but not until the grandchildren
+impatiently demanded, "Why don't you look at 'em?" did they venture to
+untie a single ribbon. Then the old eyes shone, indeed, at sight of the
+wonderful things disclosed; a fine lace tie and a bottle of perfume; a
+reading-glass and a basket of figs; some dates, raisins, nuts, and
+candies, and a little electric pocket lantern which would, at the
+pressure of a thumb, bring to light all the secrets of the darkest of
+rooms. There were books, too, such as Ella and Frank themselves liked to
+read; and there was a handsome little clock for the mantel--but there
+was not anywhere a pair of bed-slippers or a neckerchief.
+
+At last they were all opened, and there remained not one little red bow
+to untie. On the table, in all their pristine glory, lay the presents,
+and half-buried in bits of paper and red ribbon sat the amazed, but
+blissfully happy, little old man and little old woman. Lydia Ann's lips
+parted, but the trembling words of thanks froze on her tongue--her eyes
+had fallen on a small pink peppermint on the floor.
+
+"No, no, we can't take 'em," she cried agitatedly. "We hadn't ought to.
+We was wicked and ongrateful, and last night we--we--" She paused
+helplessly, her eyes on her husband's face. "Samuel, you--you tell," she
+faltered.
+
+Samuel cleared his throat.
+
+"Well, ye see, we--yes, last night, we--we--" He could say no more.
+
+"We--we had a party to--to make up for things," blurted out Lydia Ann.
+"And so ye see we--we hadn't ought ter take these--all these!"
+
+Frank winced. His face grew a little white as he threw a quick glance
+into his sister's eyes; but his voice, when he spoke, was clear and
+strong from sheer force of will.
+
+"A party? Good! I'm glad of it. Did you enjoy it?" he asked.
+
+Samuel's jaw dropped. Lydia Ann stared speechlessly. This cordial
+approval of their folly was more incomprehensible than had been the
+failure to relegate them to naps and knitting earlier in the afternoon.
+
+"And you've got another party to-night, too; haven't you?" went on Frank
+smoothly. "As for those things there"--he waved his hand toward the
+table--"of course you'll take them. Why, we picked them out on purpose
+for you,--every single one of them,--and only think how we'd feel if you
+didn't take them! Don't you--like them?"
+
+"'Like them'!" cried Lydia Ann, and at the stifled sob in her voice
+three men and three women caught their breath sharply and tried to
+swallow the lumps in their throats. "We--we just love them!"
+
+No one spoke. The grandchildren stared silently, a little awed. Ella,
+Frank, and Ned stirred restlessly and looked anywhere but at each other.
+
+Lydia Ann flushed, then paled. "Of course, if--if you picked 'em
+out 'specially for us--" she began hesitatingly, her eyes anxiously
+scanning the perturbed faces of her children.
+
+"We did--especially," came the prompt reply.
+
+Lydia Ann's gaze drifted to the table and lingered upon the clock, the
+tie, and the bottle of perfume. "'Specially for us," she murmured
+softly. Then her face suddenly cleared. "Why, then we'll have to take
+them, won't we?" she cried, her voice tremulous with ecstasy. "We'll
+just have to--whether we ought to or not!"
+
+"You certainly will!" declared Frank. And this time he did not even try
+to hide the shake in his voice.
+
+"Oh!" breathed Lydia Ann blissfully. "Samuel, I--I think I'll take a
+fig, please!"
+
+
+
+
+Jupiter Ann
+
+
+
+It was only after serious consideration that Miss Prue had bought the
+little horse, Jupiter, and then she changed the name at once. For a
+respectable spinster to drive any sort of horse was bad enough in Miss
+Prue's opinion; but to drive a heathen one! To replace "Jupiter" she
+considered "Ann" a sensible, dignified, and proper name, and "Ann" she
+named him, regardless of age, sex, or "previous condition of servitude."
+The villagers accepted the change--though with modifications; the horse
+was known thereafter as "Miss Prue's Jupiter Ann."
+
+Miss Prue had said that she wanted a safe, steady horse; one that would
+not run, balk, or kick. She would not have bought any horse, indeed, had
+it not been that the way to the post office, the store, the church, and
+everywhere else, had grown so unaccountably long--Miss Prue was
+approaching her sixtieth birthday. The horse had been hers now a month,
+and thus far it had been everything that a dignified, somewhat timid
+spinster could wish it to be. Fortunately--or unfortunately, as one may
+choose to look at it--Miss Prue did not know that in the dim recesses of
+Jupiter's memory there lurked the smell of the turf, the feel of the
+jockey's coaxing touch, and the sound of a triumphant multitude shouting
+his name; in Miss Prue's estimation the next deadly sin to treason and
+murder was horse racing.
+
+There was no one in the town, perhaps, who did not know of Miss Prue's
+abhorrence of horse racing. On all occasions she freed her mind
+concerning it; and there was a report that the only lover of her youth
+had lost his suit through his passion for driving fast horses. Even the
+county fair Miss Prue had refused all her life to attend--there was the
+horse racing. It was because of all this that she had been so loath to
+buy a horse, if only the way to everywhere had not grown so long!
+
+For four weeks--indeed, for five--the new horse, Ann, was a treasure;
+then, one day, Jupiter remembered.
+
+Miss Prue was driving home from the post office. The wide, smooth road
+led straight ahead under an arch of flaming gold and scarlet. The
+October air was crisp and bracing, and unconsciously Miss Prue lifted
+her chin and drew a long breath. Almost at once, however, she frowned.
+From behind her had come the sound of a horse's hoofs, and reluctantly
+Miss Prue pulled the right-hand rein.
+
+Jupiter Ann quickened his gait perceptibly, and lifted his head. His
+ears came erect.
+
+"Whoa, Ann, whoa!" stammered Miss Prue nervously.
+
+The hoof beats were almost abreast now, and hurriedly Miss Prue turned
+her head. At once she gave the reins an angry jerk; in the other light
+carriage sat Rupert Joyce, the young man who for weeks had been
+unsuccessfully trying to find favor in her eyes because he had already
+found it in the eyes of her ward and niece, Mary Belle.
+
+"Good-morning, Miss Prue," called a boyish voice.
+
+"Good-morning," snapped the woman, and jerked the reins again.
+
+Miss Prue awoke then to the sudden realization that if the other's speed
+had accelerated, so, too, had her own.
+
+"Ann, Ann, whoa!" she commanded. Then she turned angry eyes on the young
+man. "Go by--go by! Why don't you go by?" she called sharply.
+
+In obedience, young Joyce touched the whip to his gray mare: but he did
+not go by. With a curious little shake, as if casting off years of dull
+propriety, Jupiter Ann thrust forward his nose and got down to business.
+
+Miss Prue grew white, then red. Her hands shook on the reins.
+
+"Ann, Ann, whoa! You mustn't--you can't! Ann, please whoa!" she
+supplicated wildly. She might as well have besought the wind not to
+blow.
+
+On and on, neck and neck, the horses raced. Miss Prue's bonnet slipped
+and hung rakishly above one ear. Her hair loosened and fell in
+straggling wisps of gray to her shoulders. Her eyeglasses dropped from
+her nose and swayed dizzily on their slender chain. Her gloves split
+across the back and showed the white, tense knuckles. Her breath came in
+gasps, and only a moaning "whoa--whoa" fell in jerky rhythm from her
+white lips. Ashamed, frightened, and dismayed, Miss Prue clung to the
+reins and kept her straining eyes on the road ahead.
+
+On and on down the long straight road flew Jupiter Ann and the little
+gray mare. At door and window of the scudding houses appeared men and
+women with startled faces and upraised hands. Miss Prue knew that they
+were there, and shuddered. The shame of it--she, in a horse-race, and
+with Rupert Joyce! Hurriedly she threw a look at the young man's face to
+catch its expression; and then she saw something else: the little gray
+mare was a full half-head in the lead of Jupiter Ann!
+
+It was then that a strange something awoke in Miss Prue--a fierce new
+something that she had never felt before. Her lips set hard, and her
+eyes flashed a sudden fire. Her moaning "whoa--whoa" fell silent, and
+her hands loosened instinctively on the reins. She was leaning forward
+now, eagerly, anxiously, her eyes on the head of the other horse.
+Suddenly her tense muscles relaxed, and a look that was perilously near
+to triumphant joy crossed her face--Jupiter Ann was ahead once more!
+
+By the time the wide sweep of the driveway leading to Miss Prue's home
+was reached, there was no question of the result, and well in the lead
+of the little gray mare Jupiter Ann trotted proudly up the driveway and
+came to a panting stop.
+
+Flushed, disheveled, and palpitating, Miss Prue picked her way to the
+ground. Behind her Rupert Joyce was just driving into the yard. He, too,
+was flushed and palpitating--though not for the same reason.
+
+"I--I just thought I'd drive out and see Mary Belle," he blurted out
+airily, assuming a bold front to meet the wrath which he felt was sure
+to come. At once, however, his jaw dropped in amazement.
+
+"Mary Belle? I left her down in the orchard gathering apples," Miss Prue
+was saying cheerfully. "You might look for her there." And she
+smiled--the gracious smile of the victor for the vanquished.
+
+Incredulously the youth stared; then, emboldened, he plunged on
+recklessly:
+
+"I say, you know, Miss Prue, that little horse of yours can run!"
+
+Miss Prue stiffened. With a jerk she straightened her bonnet and thrust
+her glasses on her nose.
+
+"Ann has been bad--very bad," she said severely. "We'll not talk of it,
+if you please. I am ashamed of her!" And he turned haughtily away.
+
+And yet--
+
+In the barn two minutes later, Miss Prue patted Jupiter Ann on the neck
+--a thing she had never done before.
+
+"We beat 'em, anyhow, Ann," she whispered. "And, after all, he's a
+pleasant-spoken chap, and if Mary Belle wants him--why--let's let her
+have him!"
+
+
+
+
+The Axminster Path
+
+
+
+"There, dear, here we are, all dressed for the day!" said the girl
+gayly, as she led the frail little woman along the strip of Axminster
+carpet that led to the big chair.
+
+"And Kathie?" asked the woman, turning her head with the groping
+uncertainty of the blind.
+
+"Here, mother," answered a cheery voice. "I'm right here by the window."
+
+"Oh!" And the woman smiled happily. "Painting, I suppose, as usual."
+
+"Oh, I'm working, as usual," returned the same cheery voice, its owner
+changing the position of the garment in her lap and reaching for a spool
+of silk.
+
+"There!" breathed the blind woman, as she sank into the great chair.
+"Now I am all ready for my breakfast. Tell cook, please, Margaret, that
+I will have tea this morning, and just a roll besides my orange." And
+she smoothed the folds of her black silk gown and picked daintily at the
+lace in her sleeves.
+
+"Very well, dearie," returned her daughter. "You shall have it right
+away," she added over her shoulder as she left the room.
+
+In the tiny kitchen beyond the sitting-room Margaret Whitmore lighted
+the gas-stove and set the water on to boil. Then she arranged a small
+tray with a bit of worn damask and the only cup and saucer of delicate
+china that the shelves contained. Some minutes later she went back to
+her mother, tray in hand.
+
+"'Most starved to death?" she demanded merrily, as she set the tray upon
+the table Katherine had made ready before the blind woman. "You have
+your roll, your tea, your orange, as you ordered, dear, and just a bit
+of currant jelly besides."
+
+"Currant jelly? Well, I don't know,--perhaps it will taste good. 'T was
+so like Nora to send it up; she's always trying to tempt my appetite,
+you know. Dear me, girls, I wonder if you realize what a treasure we
+have in that cook!"
+
+"Yes, dear, I know," murmured Margaret hastily. "And now the tea,
+Mother--it's getting colder every minute. Will you have the orange
+first?"
+
+The slender hands of the blind woman hovered for a moment over the
+table, then dropped slowly and found by touch the position of spoons,
+plates, and the cup of tea.
+
+"Yes, I have everything. I don't need you any longer, Meg. I don't like
+to take so much of your time, dear--you should let Betty do for me."
+
+"But I want to do it," laughed Margaret. "Don't you want me?"
+
+"Want you! That isn't the question, dear," objected Mrs. Whitmore
+gently. "Of course, a maid's service can't be compared for an instant
+with a daughter's love and care; but I don't want to be selfish--and you
+and Kathie never let Betty do a thing for me. There, there! I won't
+scold any more. What are you going to do to-day, Meg?"
+
+Margaret hesitated. She was sitting by the window now, in a low chair
+near her sister's. In her hands was a garment similar to that upon which
+Katherine was still at work.
+
+"Why, I thought," she began slowly, "I'd stay here with you and
+Katherine a while."
+
+Mrs. Whitmore set down her empty cup and turned a troubled face toward
+the sound of her daughter's voice.
+
+"Meg, dear," she remonstrated, "is it that fancy-work?"
+
+"Well, isn't fancy-work all right?" The girl's voice shook a little.
+
+Mrs. Whitmore stirred uneasily.
+
+"No, it--it isn't--in this case," she protested. "Meg, Kathie, I don't
+like it. You are young; you should go out more--both of you. I
+understand, of course; it's your unselfishness. You stay with me lest I
+get lonely; and you play at painting and fancy-work for an excuse. Now,
+dearies, there must be a change. You must go out. You must take your
+place in society. I will not have you waste your young lives."
+
+"Mother!" Margaret was on her feet, and Katherine had dropped her work.
+"Mother!" they cried again.
+
+"I--I shan't even listen," faltered Margaret. "I shall go and leave you
+right away," she finished tremulously, picking up the tray and hurrying
+from the room.
+
+It was hours later, after the little woman had trailed once more along
+the Axminster path to the bed in the room beyond and had dropped asleep,
+that Margaret Whitmore faced her sister with despairing eyes.
+
+"Katherine, what shall we do? This thing is killing me!"
+
+The elder girl's lips tightened. For an instant she paused in her
+work--but for only an instant.
+
+"I know," she said feverishly; "but we mustn't give up--we mustn't!"
+
+"But how can we help it? It grows worse and worse. She wants us to go
+out--to sing, dance, and make merry as we used to."
+
+"Then we'll go out and--tell her we dance."
+
+"But there's the work."
+
+"We'll take it with us. We can't both leave at once, of course, but old
+Mrs. Austin, downstairs, will be glad to have one or the other of us sit
+with her an occasional afternoon or evening."
+
+Margaret sprang to her feet and walked twice the length of the room.
+
+"But I've--lied so much already!" she moaned, pausing before her sister.
+"It's all a lie--my whole life!"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know," murmured the other, with a hurried glance toward the
+bedroom door. "But, Meg, we mustn't give up--'twould kill her to know
+now. And, after all, it's only a little while!--such a little while!"
+
+Her voice broke with a half-stifled sob. The younger girl shivered, but
+did not speak. She walked again the length of the room and back; then
+she sat down to her work, her lips a tense line of determination, and
+her thoughts delving into the few past years for a strength that might
+help her to bear the burden of the days to come.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ten years before, and one week after James Whitmore's death, Mrs. James
+Whitmore had been thrown from her carriage, striking on her head and
+back.
+
+When she came to consciousness, hours afterward, she opened her eyes on
+midnight darkness, though the room was flooded with sunlight. The optic
+nerve had been injured, the doctor said. It was doubtful if she would
+ever be able to see again.
+
+Nor was this all. There were breaks and bruises, and a bad injury to the
+spine. It was doubtful if she would ever walk again. To the little woman
+lying back on the pillow it seemed a living death--this thing that had
+come to her.
+
+It was then that Margaret and Katherine constituted themselves a
+veritable wall of defense between their mother and the world. Nothing
+that was not inspected and approved by one or the other was allowed to
+pass Mrs. Whitmore's chamber door.
+
+For young women only seventeen and nineteen, whose greatest
+responsibility hitherto had been the selection of a gown or a ribbon,
+this was a new experience.
+
+At first the question of expense did not enter into consideration.
+Accustomed all their lives to luxury, they unhesitatingly demanded it
+now; and doctors, nurses, wines, fruits, flowers, and delicacies were
+summoned as a matter of course.
+
+Then came the crash. The estate of the supposedly rich James Whitmore
+was found to be deeply involved, and in the end there was only a
+pittance for the widow and her two daughters.
+
+Mrs. Whitmore was not told of this at once. She was so ill and helpless
+that a more convenient season was awaited. That was nearly ten years
+ago--and she had not been told yet.
+
+Concealment had not been difficult at first. The girls had, indeed,
+drifted into the deception almost unconsciously, as it certainly was not
+necessary to burden the ears of the already sorely afflicted woman with
+the petty details of the economy and retrenchment on the other side of
+her door.
+
+If her own luxuries grew fewer, the change was so gradual that the
+invalid did not notice it, and always her blindness made easy the
+deception of those about her.
+
+Even the move to another home was accomplished without her realizing it
+--she was taken to the hospital for a month's treatment, and when the
+month was ended she was tenderly carried home and laid on her own bed;
+and she did not know that "home" now was a cheap little flat in Harlem
+instead of the luxurious house on the avenue where her children were
+born.
+
+She was too ill to receive visitors, and was therefore all the more
+dependent on her daughters for entertainment.
+
+She pitied them openly for the grief and care she had brought upon them,
+and in the next breath congratulated them and herself that at least they
+had all that money could do to smooth the difficult way. In the face of
+this, it naturally did not grow any easier for the girls to tell the
+truth--and they kept silent.
+
+For six years Mrs. Whitmore did not step; then her limbs and back grew
+stronger, and she began to sit up, and to stand for a moment on her
+feet. Her daughters now bought the strip of Axminster carpet and laid a
+path across the bedroom, and another one from the bedroom door to the
+great chair in the sitting-room, so that her feet might not note the
+straw matting on the floor and question its being there.
+
+In her own sitting-room at home--which had opened, like this, out of her
+bedroom--the rugs were soft and the chairs sumptuous with springs and
+satin damask. One such chair had been saved from the wreck--the one at
+the end of the strip of carpet.
+
+Day by day and month by month the years passed. The frail little woman
+walked the Axminster path and sat in the tufted chair. For her there
+were a china cup and plate, and a cook and maids below to serve. For her
+the endless sewing over which Katherine and Margaret bent their backs to
+eke out their scanty income was a picture or a bit of embriodery,
+designed to while away the time.
+
+As Margaret thought of it it seemed incredible--this tissue of
+fabrications that enmeshed them; but even as she wondered she knew that
+the very years that marked its gradual growth made now its strength.
+
+And in a little while would come the end--a very little while, the
+doctor said.
+
+Margaret tightened her lips and echoed her sister's words: "We mustn't
+give up--we mustn't!"
+
+Two days later the doctor called. He was a bit out of the old life.
+
+His home, too, had been--and was now, for that matter--on the avenue. He
+lived with his aunt, whose heir he was, and he was the only one outside
+of the Whitmore family that knew the house of illusions in which Mrs.
+Whitmore lived.
+
+His visits to the little Harlem flat had long ceased to have more than a
+semblance of being professional, and it was an open secret that he
+wished to make Margaret his wife. Margaret said no, though with a
+heightened color and a quickened breath--which told at least herself how
+easily the "no" might have been a "yes."
+
+Dr. Littlejohn was young and poor, and he had only his profession, for
+all he was heir to one of the richest women on the avenue; and Margaret
+refused to burden him with what she knew it would mean to marry her. In
+spite of argument, therefore, and a pair of earnest brown eyes that
+pleaded even more powerfully, she held to her convictions and continued
+to say no.
+
+All this, however, did not prevent Dr. Littlejohn from making frequent
+visits to the Whitmore home, and always his coming meant joy to three
+weary, troubled hearts. To-day he brought a great handful of pink
+carnations and dropped them into the lap of the blind woman.
+
+"Sweets to the sweet!" he cried gayly, as he patted the slim hand on the
+arm of the chair.
+
+"Doctor Ned--you dear boy! Oh, how lovely!" exclaimed Mrs. Whitmore,
+burying her face in the fragrant flowers. "And, doctor, I want to speak
+to you," she broke off earnestly. "I want you to talk to Meg and Kathie.
+Perhaps they will listen to you. I want them to go out more. Tell them,
+please, that I don't need them all the time now."
+
+"Dear me, how independent we are going to be!" laughed the doctor. "And
+so we don't need any more attention now, eh?"
+
+"Betty will do."
+
+"Betty?" It was hard, sometimes, for the doctor to remember.
+
+"The maid," explained Mrs. Whitmore; "though, for that matter, there
+might as well be no maid--the girls never let her do a thing for me."
+
+"No?" returned the doctor easily, sure now of where he stood. "But you
+don't expect me to interfere in this housekeeping business!"
+
+"Somebody must," urged Mrs. Whitmore. "The girls must leave me more. It
+isn't as if we were poor and couldn't hire nurses and maids. I should
+die if it were like that, and I were such a burden."
+
+"Mother, <i>dearest</i>!" broke in Margaret feverishly, with an
+imploring glance toward her sister and the doctor.
+
+"Oh, by the way," interposed the doctor airily, "it has occurred to me
+that the very object of my visit to-day is right along the lines of what
+you ask. I want Miss Margaret to go driving with me. I have a call to
+make out Washington Heights way."
+
+"Oh, but--" began Margaret, and paused at a gesture from her mother.
+
+"There aren't any 'buts' about it," declared Mrs. Whitmore. "Meg shall
+go."
+
+"Of course she'll go!" echoed Katherine. And with three against her,
+Margaret's protests were in vain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Mrs. Whitmore was nervous that night. She could not sleep.
+
+It seemed to her that if she could get up and walk, back and forth, back
+and forth, she could rest afterward. She had not stepped alone yet, to
+be sure, since the accident, but, after all, the girls did little more
+than guide her feet, and she was sure that she could walk alone if she
+tried.
+
+The more she thought of it the more she longed to test her strength.
+Just a few steps back and forth, back and forth--then sleep. She was
+sure she could sleep then. Very quietly, that she might not disturb the
+sleepers in the bedroom beyond, the blind woman sat up in bed and
+slipped her feet to the floor.
+
+Within reach were her knit slippers and the heavy shawl always kept at
+the head of her bed. With trembling hands she put them on and rose
+upright.
+
+At last she was on her feet, and alone. To a woman who for ten years had
+depended on others for almost everything but the mere act of breathing,
+it was joy unspeakable. She stepped once, twice, and again along the
+side of her bed; then she stopped with a puzzled frown--under her feet
+was the unyielding, unfamiliar straw matting. She took four more steps,
+hesitatingly, and with her arms outstretched at full length before her.
+The next instant she recoiled and caught her breath sharply; her hands
+had encountered a wall and a window--<i>and there should have been no
+wall or windows there</i>!
+
+The joy was gone now.
+
+Shaking with fear and weakness, the little woman crept along the wall
+and felt for something that would tell her that she was still at home.
+Her feet made no sound, and only her hurried breathing broke the
+silence.
+
+Through the open door to the sitting-room, and down the wall to the
+right-on and on she crept.
+
+Here and there a familiar chair or stand met her groping hands and held
+them hesitatingly for a moment, only to release them to the terror of an
+unfamiliar corner or window-sill.
+
+The blind woman herself had long since lost all realization of what she
+was doing. There was only the frenzied longing to find her own. She did
+not hesitate even at the outer door of the apartment, but turned the key
+with shaking hands and stepped fearlessly into the hall. The next moment
+there came a scream and a heavy fall. The Whitmore apartment was just at
+the head of the stairs, and almost the first step of the blind woman had
+been off into space.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Mrs. Whitmore regained consciousness she was alone in her own bed.
+
+Out in the sitting-room, Margaret, Katherine, and the doctor talked
+together in low tones. At last the girls hurried into the kitchen, and
+the doctor turned and entered the bedroom. With a low ejaculation he
+hurried forward.
+
+Mrs. Whitmore flung out her arm and clutched his hand; then she lay back
+on the pillow and closed her eyes.
+
+"Doctor," she whispered, "where am I?"
+
+"At home, in your own bed."
+
+"Where is this place?"
+
+Dr. Littlejohn paled. He sent an anxious glance toward the sitting-room
+door, though he knew very well that Margaret and Katherine were in the
+kitchen and could not hear.
+
+"Where is this place?" begged the woman again.
+
+"Why, it--it--is--" The man paused helplessly.
+
+Five thin fingers tightened their clasp on his hand, and the low voice
+again broke the silence.
+
+"Doctor, did you ever know--did you ever hear that a fall could give
+back--sight?"
+
+Dr. Littlejohn started and peered into the wan face lying back on the
+pillow. Its impassiveness reassured him.
+
+"Why, perhaps--once or twice," he returned slowly, falling back into his
+old position, "though rarely--very rarely."
+
+"But it has happened?"
+
+"Yes, it has happened. There was a case recently in England. The shock
+and blow released the pressure on the optic nerve; but--"
+
+Something in the face he was watching brought him suddenly forward in
+his chair. "My dear woman, you don't mean--you can't--"
+
+He did not finish his sentence. Mrs. Whitmore opened her eyes and met
+his gaze unflinchingly. Then she turned her head.
+
+"Doctor," she said, "that picture on the wall there at the foot of the
+bed--it doesn't hang quite straight."
+
+"Mrs. Whitmore!" breathed the man incredulously, half rising from his
+chair.
+
+"Hush! Not yet!" The woman's insistent hand had pulled him back. "Why am
+I here? Where is this place?"
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"Doctor, you must tell me. I must know."
+
+Again the man hesitated. He noted the flushed cheeks and shaking hands
+of the woman before him. It was true, she must know; and perhaps, after
+all, it was best she should know through him. He drew a long breath and
+plunged straight into the heart of the story.
+
+Five minutes later a glad voice came from the doorway.
+
+"Mother, dearest--then you're awake!" The doctor was conscious of a
+low-breathed "Hush, don't tell her!" in his ears; then, to his
+amazement, he saw the woman on the bed turn her head and hold out her
+hand with the old groping uncertainty of the blind.
+
+"Margaret! It is Margaret, isn't it?"
+
+Days afterward, when the weary, pain-racked body of the little mother was
+forever at rest, Margaret lifted her head from her lover's shoulder,
+where she had been sobbing out her grief.
+
+"Ned, I can't be thankful enough," she cried, "that we kept it from
+Mother to the end. It's my only comfort. She didn't know."
+
+"And I'm sure she would wish that thought to be a comfort to you, dear,"
+said the doctor gently. "I am sure she would."
+
+
+
+
+Phineas and the Motor Car
+
+
+
+Phineas used to wonder, sometimes, just when it was that he began to
+court Diantha Bowman, the rosy-cheeked, golden-haired idol of his
+boyhood. Diantha's cheeks were not rosy now, and her hair was more
+silver than gold, but she was not yet his wife.
+
+And he had tried so hard to win her! Year after year the rosiest apples
+from his orchard and the choicest honey from his apiary had found their
+way to Diantha's table; and year after year the county fair and the
+village picnic had found him at Diantha's door with his old mare and his
+buggy, ready to be her devoted slave for the day. Nor was Diantha
+unmindful of all these attentions. She ate the apples and the honey, and
+spent long contented hours in the buggy; but she still answered his
+pleadings with her gentle: "I hain't no call to marry yet, Phineas," and
+nothing he could do seemed to hasten her decision in the least. It was
+the mare and the buggy, however, that proved to be responsible for what
+was the beginning of the end.
+
+They were on their way home from the county fair. The mare, head
+hanging, was plodding through the dust when around the curve of the road
+ahead shot the one automobile that the town boasted. The next moment the
+whizzing thing had passed, and left a superannuated old mare looming
+through a cloud of dust and dancing on two wabbly hind legs.
+
+"Plague take them autymobiles!" snarled Phineas through set teeth, as he
+sawed at the reins. "I ax yer pardon, I'm sure, Dianthy," he added
+shamefacedly, when the mare had dropped to a position more nearly
+normal; "but I hain't no use fur them 'ere contraptions!"
+
+Diantha frowned. She was frightened--and because she was frightened she
+was angry. She said the first thing that came into her head--and never
+had she spoken to Phineas so sharply.
+
+"If you did have some use for 'em, Phineas Hopkins, you wouldn't be
+crawlin' along in a shiftless old rig like this; you'd have one yourself
+an' be somebody! For my part, I like 'em, an' I'm jest achin' ter ride
+in 'em, too!"
+
+Phineas almost dropped the reins in his amazement. "Achin' ter ride in
+'em," she had said--and all that he could give her was this "shiftless
+old rig" that she so scorned. He remembered something else, too, and his
+face flamed suddenly red. It was Colonel Smith who owned and drove that
+automobile, and Colonel Smith, too, was a bachelor. What if--Instantly
+in Phineas's soul rose a fierce jealousy.
+
+"I like a hoss, myself," he said then, with some dignity. "I want
+somethin' that's alive!"
+
+Diantha laughed slyly. The danger was past, and she could afford to be
+merry.
+
+"Well, it strikes me that you come pretty near havin' somethin' that
+<i>wa'n't</i> alive jest 'cause you had somethin' that was!" she
+retorted. "Really, Phineas, I didn't s'pose Dolly could move so fast!"
+
+Phineas bridled.
+
+"Dolly knew how ter move--once," he rejoined grimly. "'Course nobody
+pretends ter say she's young now, any more 'n we be," he finished with
+some defiance. But he drooped visibly at Diantha's next words.
+
+"Why, I don't feel old, Phineas, an' I ain't old, either. Look at
+Colonel Smith; he's jest my age, an' he's got a autymobile. Mebbe I'll
+have one some day."
+
+To Phineas it seemed that a cold hand clutched his heart.
+
+"Dianthy, you wouldn't really--ride in one!" he faltered.
+
+Until that moment Diantha had not been sure that she would, but the
+quaver in Phineas's voice decided her.
+
+"Wouldn't I? You jest wait an' see!"
+
+And Phineas did wait--and he did see. He saw Diantha, not a week later,
+pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, sitting by the side of Colonel Smith in
+that hated automobile. Nor did he stop to consider that Diantha was only
+one of a dozen upon whom Colonel Smith, in the enthusiasm of his new
+possession, was pleased to bestow that attention. To Phineas it could
+mean but one thing; and he did not change his opinion when he heard
+Diantha's account of the ride.
+
+"It was perfectly lovely," she breathed. "Oh, Phineas, it was jest like
+flyin'!"
+
+"'Flyin'!'" Phineas could say no more. He felt as if he were
+choking,--choking with the dust raised by Dolly's plodding hoofs.
+
+"An' the trees an' the houses swept by like ghosts," continued Diantha.
+"Why, Phineas, I could 'a' rode on an' on furever!"
+
+Before the ecstatic rapture in Diantha's face Phineas went down in
+defeat. Without one word he turned away--but in his heart he registered
+a solemn vow: he, too, would have an automobile; he, too, would make
+Diantha wish to ride on and on forever!
+
+Arduous days came then to Phineas. Phineas was not a rich man. He had
+enough for his modest wants, but until now those wants had not included
+an automobile--until now he had not known that Diantha wished to fly.
+All through the autumn and winter Phineas pinched and economized until
+he had lopped off all of the luxuries and most of the pleasures of
+living. Even then it is doubtful if he would have accomplished his
+purpose had he not, in the spring, fallen heir to a modest legacy of a
+few thousand dollars. The news of his good fortune was not two hours old
+when he sought Diantha.
+
+"I cal'late mebbe I'll be gettin' me one o' them 'ere autymobiles this
+spring," he said, as if casually filling a pause in the conversation.
+
+"<i>Phineas</i>!"
+
+At the awed joy in Diantha's voice the man's heart glowed within him.
+This one moment of triumph was worth all the long miserable winter with
+its butterless bread and tobaccoless pipes. But he carefully hid his joy
+when he spoke.
+
+"Yes," he said nonchalantly. "I'm goin' ter Boston next week ter pick
+one out. I cal'late on gettin' a purty good one."
+
+"Oh, Phineas! But how--how you goin' ter run it?"
+
+Phineas's chin came up.
+
+"Run it!" he scoffed. "Well, I hain't had no trouble yet steerin' a
+hoss, an' I cal'late I won't have any more steerin' a mess o' senseless
+metal what hain't got no eyes ter be seein' things an' gittin' scared! I
+don't worry none 'bout runnin' it."
+
+"But, Phineas, it ain't all steerin'," ventured Diantha, timidly.
+"There's lots of little handles and things ter turn, an' there's some
+things you do with your feet. Colonel Smith did."
+
+The name Smith to Phineas was like a match to gunpowder. He flamed
+instantly into wrath.
+
+"Well, I cal'late what Colonel Smith does, I can," he snapped.
+"Besides"--airily--"mebbe I shan't git the feet kind, anyhow; I want the
+best. There's as much as four or five kinds, Jim Blair says, an' I
+cal'late ter try 'em all."
+
+"Oh-h!" breathed Diantha, falling back in her chair with an ecstatic
+sigh. "Oh, Phineas, won't it be grand!" And Phineas, seeing the joyous
+light in her eyes, gazed straight down a vista of happiness that led to
+wedding bells and bliss.
+
+Phineas was gone some time on his Boston trip. When he returned he
+looked thin and worried. He started nervously at trivial noises, and his
+eyes showed a furtive restlessness that quickly caused remark.
+
+"Why, Phineas, you don't look well!" Diantha exclaimed when she saw him.
+
+"Well? Oh, I'm well."
+
+"An' did you buy it--that autymobile?"
+
+"I did." Phineas's voice was triumphant. Diantha's eyes sparkled.
+
+"Where is it?" she demanded.
+
+"Comin'--next week."
+
+"An' did you try 'em all, as you said you would?"
+
+Phineas stirred; then he sighed.
+
+"Well, I dunno," he acknowledged. "I hain't done nothin' but ride in 'em
+since I went down--I know that. But there's such a powerful lot of 'em,
+Dianthy; an' when they found out I wanted one, they all took hold an'
+showed off their best p'ints--'demonstatin',' they called it. They raced
+me up hill an' down hill, an' scooted me round corners till I didn't
+know where I was. I didn't have a minute ter myself. An' they went fast,
+Dianthy-powerful fast. I ain't real sure yet that I'm breathin'
+natural."
+
+"But it must have been grand, Phineas! I should have loved it!"
+
+"Oh, it was, 'course!" assured Phineas, hastily.
+
+"An' you'll take me ter ride, right away?" If Phineas hesitated it was
+for only a moment.
+
+"'Course," he promised. "Er--there's a man, he's comin' with it, an'
+he's goin' ter stay a little, jest ter--ter make sure everything's all
+right. After he goes I'll come. An' ye want ter be ready--I'll show ye a
+thing or two!" he finished with a swagger that was meant to hide the
+shake in his voice.
+
+In due time the man and the automobile arrived, but Diantha did not have
+her ride at once. It must have taken some time to make sure that
+"everything was all right," for the man stayed many days, and while he
+was there, of course Phineas was occupied with him. Colonel Smith was
+unkind enough to observe that he hoped it was taking Phineas Hopkins
+long enough to learn to run the thing; but his remark did not reach
+Diantha's ears. She knew only that Phineas, together with the man and
+the automobile, started off early every morning for some unfrequented
+road, and did not return until night.
+
+There came a day, however, when the man left town, and not twenty-four
+hours later, Phineas, with a gleaming thing of paint and polish, stood
+at Diantha's door.
+
+"Now ain't that pretty," quavered Diantha excitedly. "Ain't that awful
+pretty!"
+
+Phineas beamed.
+
+"Purty slick, I think myself," he acknowledged.
+
+"An' green is so much nicer than red," cooed Diantha.
+
+Phineas quite glowed with joy--Colonel Smith's car was red. "Oh, green's
+the thing," he retorted airily; "an' see!" he added; and forthwith he
+burst into a paean of praise, in which tires, horns, lamps, pumps,
+baskets, brakes, and mud-guards were the dominant notes. It almost
+seemed, indeed, that he had bought the gorgeous thing before him to look
+at and talk about rather than to use, so loath was he to stop talking
+and set the wheels to moving. Not until Diantha had twice reminded him
+that she was longing to ride in it did he help her into the car and make
+ready to start.
+
+It was not an entire success--that start. There were several false moves
+on Phineas's part, and Diantha could not repress a slight scream and a
+nervous jump at sundry unexpected puffs and snorts and snaps from the
+throbbing thing beneath her. She gave a louder scream when Phineas, in
+his nervousness, sounded the siren, and a wail like a cry from the
+spirit world shrieked in her ears.
+
+"Phineas, what was that?" she shivered, when the voice had moaned into
+silence.
+
+Phineas's lips were dry, and his hands and knees were shaking; but his
+pride marched boldly to the front.
+
+"Why, that's the siren whistle, 'course," he chattered. "Ain't it great?
+I thought you'd like it!" And to hear him one would suppose that to
+sound the siren was always a necessary preliminary to starting the
+wheels.
+
+They were off at last. There was a slight indecision, to be sure,
+whether they would go backward or forward, and there was some hesitation
+as to whether Diantha's geranium bed or the driveway would make the best
+thoroughfare. But these little matters having been settled to the
+apparent satisfaction of all concerned, the automobile rolled down the
+driveway and out on to the main highway.
+
+"Oh, ain't this grand!" murmured Diantha, drawing a long but somewhat
+tremulous breath.
+
+Phineas did not answer. His lips were tense, and his eyes were fixed on
+the road ahead. For days now he had run the car himself, and he had been
+given official assurance that he was quite capable of handling it; yet
+here he was on his first ride with Diantha almost making a failure of
+the whole thing at the start. Was he to be beaten--beaten by a senseless
+motor car and Colonel Smith? At the thought Phineas lifted his chin and
+put on more power.
+
+"Oh, my! How f-fast we're goin'!" cried Diantha, close to his ear.
+
+Phineas nodded.
+
+"Who wants ter crawl?" he shouted; and the car leaped again at the touch
+of his hand.
+
+They were out of the town now, on a wide road that had few turns.
+Occasionally they met a carriage or a wagon, but the frightened horses
+and the no less frightened drivers gave the automobile a wide
+berth--which was well; for the parallel tracks behind Phineas showed
+that the car still had its moments of indecision as to the course to
+pursue.
+
+The town was four miles behind them when Diantha, who had been for some
+time vainly clutching at the flying ends of her veil, called to Phineas
+to stop.
+
+The request took Phineas by surprise. For one awful moment his mind was
+a blank--he had forgotten how to stop! In frantic haste he turned and
+twisted and shoved and pulled, ending with so sudden an application of
+the brakes that Diantha nearly shot head first out of the car as it
+stopped.
+
+"Why, why--Phineas!" she cried a little sharply.
+
+Phineas swallowed the lump in his throat and steadied himself in his
+seat.
+
+"Ye see I--I can stop her real quick if I want to," he explained
+jauntily. "Ye can do 'most anythin' with these 'ere things if ye only
+know how, Dianthy. Didn't we come slick?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," stammered Diantha, hastily smoothing out the frown on her
+face and summoning a smile to her lips--not for her best black silk gown
+would she have had Phineas know that she was wishing herself safe at
+home and the automobile back where it came from.
+
+"We'll go home through the Holler," said Phineas, after she had retied
+her veil and they were ready to start. "It's the long way round, ye
+know. I ain't goin' ter give ye no snippy little two-mile run, Dianthy,
+like Colonel Smith did," he finished gleefully.
+
+"No, of course not," murmured Diantha, smothering a sigh as the
+automobile started with a jerk.
+
+An hour later, tired, frightened, a little breathless, but valiantly
+declaring that she had had a "beautiful time," Diantha was set down at
+her own door.
+
+That was but the first of many such trips. Ever sounding in Phineas
+Hopkins's ears and spurring him to fresh endeavor, were Diantha's words,
+"I could 'a' rode on an' on furever"; and deep in his heart was the
+determination that if it was automobile rides that she wanted, it was
+automobile rides that she should have! His small farm on the edge of the
+town--once the pride of his heart--began to look forlorn and deserted;
+for Phineas, when not actually driving his automobile, was usually to be
+found hanging over it with wrench and polishing cloth. He bought little
+food and less clothing, but always--gasolene. And he talked to any one
+who would listen about automobiles in general and his own in particular,
+learnedly dropping in frequent references to cylinders, speed, horse
+power, vibrators, carburetors, and spark plugs.
+
+As for Diantha--she went to bed every night with thankfulness that she
+possessed her complement of limbs and senses, and she rose every morning
+with a fear that the coming night would find some of them missing. To
+Phineas and the town in general she appeared to be devoted to this
+breathless whizzing over the country roads; and wild horses could not
+have dragged from her the truth: that she was longing with an
+overwhelming longing for the old days of Dolly, dawdling, and peace.
+
+Just where it all would have ended it is difficult to say had not the
+automobile itself taken a hand in the game--as automobiles will
+sometimes--and played trumps.
+
+It was the first day of the county fair again, and Phineas and Diantha
+were on their way home. Straight ahead the road ran between clumps of
+green, then unwound in a white ribbon of dust across wide fields and
+open meadows.
+
+"Tain't much like last year, is it, Dianthy?" crowed Phineas, shrilly,
+in her ear--then something went wrong.
+
+Phineas knew it instantly. The quivering thing beneath them leaped into
+new life--but a life of its own. It was no longer a slave, but a master.
+Phineas's face grew white. Thus far he had been able to keep to the
+road, but just ahead there was a sharp curve, and he knew he could not
+make the turn--something was the matter with the steering-gear.
+
+"Look out--she's got the bits in her teeth!" he shouted. "She's bolted!"
+
+There came a scream, a sharp report, and a grinding crash--then silence.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+From away off in the dim distance Phineas heard a voice.
+
+"Phineas! Phineas!"
+
+Something snapped, and he seemed to be floating up, up, up, out of the
+black oblivion of nothingness. He tried to speak, but he knew that he
+made no sound.
+
+"Phineas! Phineas!"
+
+The voice was nearer now, so near that it seemed just above him. It
+sounded like--With a mighty effort he opened his eyes; then full
+consciousness came. He was on the ground, his head in Diantha's lap.
+Diantha, bonnet crushed, neck-bow askew, and coat torn, was bending over
+him, calling him frantically by name. Ten feet away the wrecked
+automobile, tip-tilted against a large maple tree, completed the
+picture.
+
+With a groan Phineas closed his eyes and turned away his head.
+
+"She's all stove up--an' now you won't ever say yes," he moaned. "You
+wanted ter ride on an' on furever!"
+
+"But I will--I don't--I didn't mean it," sobbed Diantha incoherently.
+"I'd rather have Dolly twice over. I <i>like</i> ter crawl. Oh, Phineas,
+I hate that thing--I've always hated it! I'll say yes next
+week--to-morrow--to-day if you'll only open your eyes and tell me you
+ain't a-dyin'!"
+
+Phineas was not dying, and he proved it promptly and effectually, even
+to the doubting Diantha's blushing content. And there their rescuers
+found them a long half-hour later--a blissful old man and a happy old
+woman sitting hand in hand by the wrecked automobile.
+
+"I cal'lated somebody'd be along purty soon," said Phineas, rising
+stiffly. "Ye see, we've each got a foot that don't go, so we couldn't
+git help; but we hain't minded the wait--not a mite!"
+
+
+
+
+The Most Wonderful Woman
+
+
+
+And a Great Man who proves himself truly great
+
+It was Old Home Week in the little village, and this was to be the
+biggest day. From a distant city was to come the town's one really Great
+Man, to speak in the huge tent erected on the Common for just that
+purpose. From end to end the village was aflame with bunting and astir
+with excitement, so that even I, merely a weary sojourner in the place,
+felt the thrill and tingled pleasantly.
+
+When the Honorable Jonas Whitermore entered the tent at two o'clock that
+afternoon I had a good view of him, for my seat was next the broad
+aisle. Behind him on the arm of an usher came a small,
+frightened-looking little woman in a plain brown suit and a plainer
+brown bonnet set askew above thin gray hair. The materials of both suit
+and bonnet were manifestly good, but all distinction of line and cut was
+hopelessly lost in the wearing. Who she was I did not know; but I soon
+learned, for one of the two young women in front of me said a low
+something to which the other gave back a swift retort, woefully audible:
+"<i>His wife</i>? That little dowdy thing in brown? Oh, what a pity! Such an
+ordinary woman!"
+
+My cheeks grew hot in sympathy with the painful red that swept to the
+roots of the thin gray hair under the tip-tilted bonnet. Then I glanced
+at the man.
+
+Had he heard? I was not quite sure. His chin, I fancied, was a trifle
+higher. I could not see his eyes, but I did see his right hand; and it
+was clenched so tightly that the knuckles were white with the strain. I
+thought I knew then. He had heard. The next minute he had passed on up
+the aisle and the usher was seating the more-frightened-than-ever little
+wife in the roped-off section reserved for important guests.
+
+It was then that I became aware that the man on my right was saying
+something.
+
+"I beg your pardon, but-did you speak--to me?" I asked, turning to him
+hesitatingly.
+
+The old man met my eyes with an abashed smile.
+
+"I guess I'm the party what had ought to be askin' pardon, stranger," he
+apologized. "I talk to myself so much I kinder furgit sometimes, and do
+it when folks is round. I was only sayin' that I wondered why 'twas the
+good Lord give folks tongues and forgot to give 'em brains to run 'em
+with. But maybe you didn't hear what she said," he hazarded, with a jerk
+of his thumb toward the young woman in front.
+
+"About Mrs. Whitermore? Yes, I heard."
+
+His face darkened.
+
+"Then you know. And she heard, too! 'Ordinary woman,' indeed! Humph! To
+think that Betty Tillington should ever live to hear herself called an
+'ordinary woman'! You see, I knew her when she <i>was</i> Betty
+Tillington."
+
+"Did you?" I smiled encouragingly. I was getting interested, and I hoped
+he would keep on talking. On the platform the guest of honor was holding
+a miniature reception. He was the picture of polite attention and
+punctilious responsiveness; but I thought I detected a quick glance now
+and then toward the roped-off section where sat his wife and I wondered
+again--had he heard that thoughtless comment?
+
+From somewhere had come the rumor that the man who was to introduce the
+Honorable Jonas Whitermore had been delayed by a washout "down the
+road," but was now speeding toward us by automobile. For my part, I fear
+I wished the absentee a punctured tire so that I might hear more of the
+heart-history of the faded little woman with the bonnet askew.
+
+"Yes, I knew her," nodded my neighbor, "and she didn't look much then
+like she does now. She was as pretty as a picture and there wa'n't a
+chap within sight of her what wa'n't head over heels in love with her.
+But there wa'n't never a chance for but two of us and we knew it: Joe
+Whitermore and a chap named Fred Farrell. So, after a time, we just sort
+of stood off and watched the race--as pretty a race as ever you see.
+Farrell had the money and the good looks, while Whitermore was poor as a
+church mouse, and he was homely, too. But Whitermore must have had
+somethin'--maybe somethin' we didn't see, for she took <i>him</i>.
+
+"Well, they married and settled down happy as two twitterin' birds, but
+poor as Job's turkey. For a year or so she was as pretty and gay as ever
+she was and into every good time goin'; then the babies came, one after
+another, some of 'em livin' and some dyin' soon after they came.
+
+"Of course, things was different then. What with the babies and the
+housework, Betty couldn't get out much, and we didn't see much of her.
+When we did see her, though, she'd smile and toss her head in the old
+way and say how happy she was and didn't we think her babies was the
+prettiest things ever, and all that. And we did, of course, and told her
+so.
+
+"But we couldn't help seein' that she was gettin' thin and white and
+that no matter how she tossed her head, there wa'n't any curls there to
+bob like they used to, 'cause her hair was pulled straight back and
+twisted up into a little hard knot just like as if she had done it up
+when some one was callin' her to come quick."
+
+"Yes, I can imagine it," I nodded.
+
+"Well, that's the way things went at the first, while he was gettin' his
+start, and I guess they was happy then. You see, they was pullin' even
+them days and runnin' neck and neck. Even when Fred Farrell, her old
+beau, married a girl she knew and built a fine house all piazzas and
+bow-winders right in sight of their shabby little rented cottage, I
+don't think she minded it; even if Mis' Farrell didn't have anythin' to
+do from mornin' till night only set in a white dress on her piazza, and
+rock, and give parties, Betty didn't seem to mind. She had her Joe.
+
+"But by and by she didn't have her Joe. Other folks had him and his
+business had him. I mean, he'd got up where the big folks in town begun
+to take notice of him; and when he wa'n't tendin' to business, he was
+hobnobbin' with them, so's to bring <i>more</i> business. And--of course
+she, with her babies and housework, didn't have no time for that.
+
+"Well, next they moved away. When they went they took my oldest girl,
+Mary, to help Betty; and so we still kept track of 'em. Mary said it was
+worse than ever in the new place. It was quite a big city and just
+livin' cost a lot. Mr. Whitermore, of course, had to look decent, out
+among folks as he was, so he had to be 'tended to first. Then what was
+left of money and time went to the children. It wa'n't long, too, before
+the big folks <i>there</i> begun to take notice, and Mr. Whitermore
+would come home all excited and tell about what was said to him and what
+fine things he was bein' asked to do. He said 'twas goin' to mean
+everythin' to his career.
+
+"Then come the folks to call, ladies in fine carriages with dressed-up
+men to hold the door open and all that; but always, after they'd gone,
+Mary'd find Betty cryin' somewhere, or else tryin' to fix a bit of old
+lace or ribbon on to some old dress. Mary said Betty's clo's were awful,
+then. You see, there wa'n't never any money left for <i>her</i> things.
+But all this didn't last long, for very soon the fine ladies stopped
+comin' and Betty just settled down to the children and didn't try to fix
+her clo's any more.
+
+"But by and by, of course, the money begun to come in--lots of it--and
+that meant more changes, naturally. They moved into a bigger house, and
+got two more hired girls and a man, besides Mary. Mr. Whitermore said he
+didn't want his wife to work so hard now, and that, besides, his
+position demanded it. He was always talkin' about his position those
+days, tryin' to get his wife to go callin' and go to parties and take
+her place as his wife, as he put it.
+
+"And Mary said Betty did try, and try hard. Of course she had nice clo's
+now, lots of 'em; but somehow they never seemed to look just right. And
+when she did go to parties, she never knew what to talk about, she told
+Mary. She didn't know a thing about the books and pictures and the plays
+and quantities of other things that everybody else seemed to know about;
+and so she just had to sit still and say nothin'.
+
+"Mary said she could see it plagued her and she wa'n't surprised when,
+after a time, Betty begun to have headaches and be sick party nights,
+and beg Mr. Whitermore to go alone--and then cry because he did go
+alone. You see, she'd got it into her head then that her husband was
+ashamed of her."
+
+"And was--he?" demanded I.
+
+"I don't know. Mary said she couldn't tell exactly. He seemed worried,
+sometimes, and quite put out at the way his wife acted about goin' to
+places. Then, other times, he didn't seem to notice or care if he did
+have to go alone. It wa'n't that he was unkind to her. It was just that
+he was so busy lookin' after himself that he forgot all about her. But
+Betty took it all as bein' ashamed of her, no matter what he did; and
+for a while she just seemed to pine away under it. They'd moved to
+Washington by that time and, of course, with him in the President's
+Cabinet, it was pretty hard for her.
+
+"Then, all of a sudden, she took a new turn and begun to study and to
+try to learn things--everything: how to talk and dress and act, besides
+stuff that was just book-learnin'. She's been doin' that for quite a
+spell and Mary says she thinks she'd do pretty well now, in lots of
+ways, if only she had half a chance--somethin' to encourage her, you
+know. But her husband don't seem to take no notice, now, just as if he's
+got tired expectin' anythin' of her and that's made her so scared and
+discouraged she's too nervous to act as if she <i>did</i> know anythin'.
+An' there 't is.
+
+"Well, maybe she is just an ordinary woman," sighed the old man, a
+little sternly, "if bein' 'ordinary' means she's like lots of others.
+For I suspect, stranger, that, if the truth was told, lots of other big
+men have got wives just like her--women what have been workin' so tarnal
+hard to help their husbands get ahead that they hain't had time to see
+where they themselves was goin'. And by and by they wake up to the fact
+that they hain't got nowhere. They've just stayed still, 'way behind.
+
+"Mary says she don't believe Betty would mind even that, if her husband
+only seemed to care--to--to understand, you know, how it had been with
+her and how--Crickey! I guess they've come," broke off the old man
+suddenly, craning his neck for a better view of the door.
+
+From outside had sounded the honk of an automobile horn and the wild
+cheering of men and boys. A few minutes later the long-delayed programme
+began.
+
+It was the usual thing. Before the Speaker of the Day came other
+speakers, and each of them, no matter what his subject, failed not to
+refer to "our illustrious fellow townsman" in terms of highest eulogy.
+One told of his humble birth, his poverty-driven boyhood, his strenuous
+youth. Another drew a vivid picture of his rise to fame. A third dilated
+upon the extraordinary qualities of brain and body which had made such
+achievement possible and which would one day land him in the White House
+itself.
+
+Meanwhile, close to the speaker's stand sat the Honorable Jonas
+Whitermore himself, for the most part grim and motionless, though I
+thought I detected once or twice a repetition of the half-troubled,
+half-questioning glances directed toward his wife that I had seen
+before. Perhaps it was because I was watching him so closely that I saw
+the sudden change come to his face. The lips lost their perfunctory
+smile and settled into determined lines. The eyes, under their shaggy
+brows, glowed with sudden fire. The entire pose and air of the man
+became curiously alert, as if with the eager impatience of one who has
+determined upon a certain course of action and is anxious only to be up
+and doing. Very soon after that he was introduced, and, amid deafening
+cheers, rose to his feet. Then, very quietly, he began to speak.
+
+We had heard he was an orator. Doubtless many of us were familiar with
+his famous nickname "Silver-tongued Joe." We had expected great things
+of him--a brilliant discourse on the tariff, perhaps, or on our foreign
+relations, or yet on the Hague Tribunal. But we got none of these. We
+got first a few quiet words of thanks and appreciation for the welcome
+extended him; then we got the picture of an everyday home just like
+ours, with all its petty cares and joys so vividly drawn that we thought
+we were seeing it, not hearing about it. He told us it was a little home
+of forty years ago, and we began to realize, some way, that he was
+speaking of himself.
+
+"I may, you know, here," he said, "for I am among my own people. I am at
+home."
+
+Even then I didn't see what he was coming to. Like the rest I sat
+slightly confused, wondering what it all meant. Then, suddenly, into his
+voice there crept a tense something that made me sit more erect in my
+seat.
+
+"<i>My</i> indomitable will-power? <i>My</i> superb courage? <i>My</i>
+stupendous strength of character? <i>My</i> undaunted persistence and
+marvelous capacity for hard work?" he was saying. "Do you think it's to
+that I owe what I am? Never! Come back with me to that little home of
+forty years ago and I'll show you to what and to whom I do owe it. First
+and foremost I owe it to a woman--no ordinary woman, I want you to
+understand--but to the most wonderful woman in the world."
+
+I knew then. So did my neighbor, the old man at my side. He jogged my
+elbow frantically and whispered:--
+
+"He's goin' to--he's goin' to! He's goin' to show her he <i>does</i>
+care and understand! He <i>did</i> hear that girl. Crickey! But ain't he
+the cute one to pay her back like that, for what she said?"
+
+The little wife down front did not know--yet, however. I realized that,
+the minute I looked at her and saw her drawn face and her frightened,
+staring eyes fixed on her husband up there on the platform--her husband,
+who was going to tell all these people about some wonderful woman whom
+even she had never heard of before, but who had been the making of him,
+it seemed.
+
+"<i>My</i> will-power?" the Honorable Jonas Whitermore was saying then.
+"Not mine, but the will-power of a woman who did not know the meaning of
+the word 'fail.' Not my superb courage, but the courage of one who, day
+in and day out, could work for a victory whose crown was to go, not to
+herself, but to another. Not my stupendous strength of character, but
+that of a beautiful young girl who could see youth and beauty and
+opportunity nod farewell, and yet smile as she saw them go. Not my
+undaunted persistence, but the persistence of one to whom the goal is
+always just ahead, but never reached. And last, not my marvelous
+capacity for hard work, but that of the wife and mother who bends her
+back each morning to a multitude of tasks and cares that she knows night
+will only interrupt--not finish."
+
+My eyes were still on the little brown-clad woman down in front, so I
+saw the change come to her face as her husband talked. I saw the terror
+give way to puzzled questioning, and that, in turn, become surprise,
+incredulity, then overwhelming joy as the full meaning came to her that
+she herself was that most wonderful woman in the world who had been the
+making of him. I looked then for just a touch of the old frightened,
+self-consciousness at finding herself thus so conspicuous; but it did
+not come. The little woman plainly had forgotten us. She was no longer
+Mrs. Jonas Whitermore among a crowd of strangers listening to a great
+man's Old-Home-Day speech. She was just a loving, heart-hungry, tired,
+all-but-discouraged wife hearing for the first time from the lips of her
+husband that he knew and cared and understood.
+
+"Through storm and sunshine, she was always there at her post, aiding,
+encouraging, that I might be helped," the Honorable Jonas Whitermore was
+saying. "Week in and week out she fought poverty, sickness, and
+disappointments, and all without a murmur, lest her complaints distract
+me for one precious moment from my work. Even the nights brought her no
+rest, for while I slept, she stole from cot to cradle and from cradle to
+crib, covering outflung little legs and arms, cooling parched little
+throats with water, quieting fretful whimpers and hushing threatening
+outcries with a low 'Hush, darling, mother's here. Don't cry! You'll
+wake father--and father must have his sleep.' And father had it--that
+sleep, just as he had the best of everything else in the house: food,
+clothing, care, attention--everything.
+
+"What mattered it if her hands did grow rough and toil-worn? Mine were
+left white and smooth--for my work. What mattered it if her back and her
+head and her feet did ache? Mine were left strong and painless--for my
+work. What mattered her wakefulness if I slept? What mattered her
+weariness if I was rested? What mattered her disappointments if my aims
+were accomplished? Nothing!"
+
+The Honorable Jonas Whitermore paused for breath, and I caught mine and
+held it. It seemed, for a minute, as if everybody all over the house was
+doing the same thing, too, so absolutely still was it, after that one
+word--"nothing." They were beginning to understand--a little. I could
+tell that. They were beginning to see this big thing that was taking
+place right before their eyes. I glanced at the little woman down in
+front. The tender glow on her face had grown and deepened and broadened
+until her whole little brown-clad self seemed transfigured. My own eyes
+dimmed as I looked. Then, suddenly I became aware that the Honorable
+Jonas Whitermore was speaking again.
+
+"And not for one year only, nor two, nor ten, has this quintessence of
+devotion been mine," he was saying, "but for twice ten and then a score
+more--for forty years. For forty years! Did you ever stop to think how
+long forty years could be--forty years of striving and straining, of
+pinching and economizing, of serving and sacrificing? Forty years of
+just loving somebody else better than yourself, and doing this every
+day, and every hour of the day for the whole of those long forty years?
+It isn't easy to love somebody else <i>always</i> better than yourself,
+you know! It means the giving up of lots of things that <i>you</i> want.
+You might do it for a day, for a month, for a year even--but for forty
+years! Yet she has done it--that most wonderful woman. Do you wonder
+that I say it is to her, and to her alone, under God, that I owe all
+that I am, all that I hope to be?"
+
+Once more he paused. Then, in a voice that shook a little at the first,
+but that rang out clear and strong and powerful at the end, he said:
+
+"Ladies, gentlemen, I understand this will close your programme. It will
+give me great pleasure, therefore, if at the adjournment of this meeting
+you will allow me to present you to the most wonderful woman in the
+world--my wife."
+
+I wish I could tell you what happened then. The words--oh, yes, I could
+tell you in words what happened. For that matter, the reporters at the
+little stand down in front told it in words, and the press of the whole
+country blazoned it forth on the front page the next morning. But really
+to know what happened, you should have heard it and seen it, and felt
+the tremendous power of it deep in your soul, as we did who did see it.
+
+There was a moment's breathless hush, then to the canvas roof there rose
+a mighty cheer and a thunderous clapping of hands as by common impulse
+the entire audience leaped to its feet.
+
+For one moment only did I catch a glimpse of Mrs. Jonas Whitermore,
+blushing, laughing, and wiping teary eyes in which the wondrous glow
+still lingered; then the eager crowd swept down the aisle toward her.
+
+"Crickey!" breathed the red-faced old man at my side. "Well, stranger,
+even if it does seem sometimes as if the good Lord give some folks
+tongues and forgot to give 'em brains to run 'em with, I guess maybe He
+kinder makes up for it, once in a while, by givin' other folks the
+brains to use their tongues so powerful well!"
+
+I nodded dumbly. I could not speak just then--but the young woman in
+front of me could. Very distinctly as I passed her I heard her say:
+
+"Well, now, ain't that the limit, Sue? And her such an ordinary woman,
+too!"
+
+
+
+
+The Price of a Pair of Shoes
+
+
+
+For fifty years the meadow lot had been mowed and the side hill ploughed
+at the nod of Jeremiah's head; and for the same fifty years the plums
+had been preserved and the mince-meat chopped at the nod of his
+wife's--and now the whole farm from the meadowlot to the mince-meat was
+to pass into the hands of William, the only son, and William's wife,
+Sarah Ellen.
+
+"It'll be so much nicer, mother,--no care for you!" Sarah Ellen had
+declared.
+
+"And so much easier for you, father, too," William had added. "It's time
+you rested. As for money--of course you'll have plenty in the
+savings-bank for clothes and such things. You won't need much, anyhow,"
+he finished, "for you'll get your living off the farm just as you always
+have."
+
+So the matter was settled, and the papers were made out. There was no
+one to be considered, after all, but themselves, for William was the
+only living son, and there had been no daughters.
+
+For a time it was delightful. Jeremiah and Hester Whipple were like
+children let out of school. They told themselves that they were people
+of leisure now, and they forced themselves to lie abed half an hour
+later than usual each day. They spent long hours in the attic looking
+over old treasures, and they loitered about the garden and the barn with
+no fear that it might be time to get dinner or to feed the stock.
+
+Gradually, however, there came a change. A new restlessness entered
+their lives, a restlessness that speedily became the worst kind of
+homesickness--the homesickness of one who is already at home.
+
+The extra half-hour was spent in bed as before--but now Hester lay with
+one ear listening to make sure that Sarah Ellen <i>did</i> let the cat
+in for her early breakfast; and Jeremiah lay with his ear listening for
+the squeak of the barn door which would tell him whether William was
+early or, late that morning. There were the same long hours in the attic
+and the garden, too--but in the attic Hester discovered her treasured
+wax wreath (late of the parlor wall); and in the garden Jeremiah found
+more weeds than <i>he</i> had ever allowed to grow there, he was sure.
+
+The farm had been in the hands of William and Sarah Ellen just six
+months when the Huntersville Savings Bank closed its doors. It was the
+old story of dishonesty and disaster, and when the smoke of Treasurer
+Hilton's revolver cleared away there was found to be practically nothing
+for the depositors. Perhaps on no one did the blow fall with more
+staggering force than on Jeremiah Whipple.
+
+"Why, Hester," he moaned, when he found himself alone with his wife,
+"here I'm seventy-eight years old--an' no money! What am I goin' ter
+do?"
+
+"I know, dear," soothed Hester; "but 't ain't as bad for us as 'tis for
+some. We've got the farm, you know; an'--"
+
+"We hain't got the farm," cut in her husband sharply. "William an' Sarah
+Ellen's got it."
+
+"Yes, I know, but they--why, they're <i>us</i>, Jeremiah," reminded
+Hester, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice.
+
+"Mebbe, Hester, mebbe," conceded Jeremiah; but he turned and looked out
+of the window with gloomy eyes.
+
+There came a letter to the farmhouse soon after this from Nathan Banks,
+a favorite nephew, suggesting that "uncle and aunt" pay them a little
+visit.
+
+"Just the thing, father!" cried William. "Go--it'll do you both good!"
+And after some little talk it was decided that the invitation should be
+accepted.
+
+Nathan Banks lived thirty miles away, but not until the night before the
+Whipples were to start did it suddenly occur to Jeremiah that he had now
+no money for railroad tickets. With a heightened color on his old cheeks
+he mentioned the fact to William.
+
+"Ye see, I--I s'pose I'll have ter come ter you," he apologized. "Them
+won't take us!" And he looked ruefully at a few coins he had pulled from
+his pocket. "They're all the cash I've got left."
+
+William frowned a little and stroked his beard.
+
+"Sure enough!" he muttered. "I forgot the tickets, too, father. 'T is
+awkward--that bank blowing up; isn't it? Oh, I'll let you have it all
+right, of course, and glad to, only it so happens that just now I--er,
+how much is it, anyway?" he broke off abruptly.
+
+"Why, I reckon a couple of dollars'll take us down, an' more, mebbe,"
+stammered the old man, "only, of course, there's comin' back, and--"
+
+"Oh, we don't have to reckon on that part now," interrupted William
+impatiently, as he thrust his hands into his pockets and brought out a
+bill and some change. "I can send you down some more when that time
+comes. There, here's a two; if it doesn't take it all, what's left can
+go toward bringing you back."
+
+And he handed out the bill, and dropped the change into his pocket.
+
+"Thank you, William," stammered the old man. "I--I'm sorry--"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," cut in William cheerfully, with a wave of his
+two hands. "Glad to do it, father; glad to do it!"
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Whipple stayed some weeks with their nephew. But, much as
+they enjoyed their visit, there came a day when home--regardless of
+weeds that were present and wax wreaths that were absent--seemed to them
+the one place in the world; and they would have gone there at once had
+it not been for the railroad fares.
+
+William had not sent down any more money, though his letters had been
+kind, and had always spoken of the warm welcome that awaited them any
+time they wished to come home.
+
+Toward the end of the fifth week a bright idea came to Jeremiah.
+
+"We'll go to Cousin Abby's," he announced gleefully to his wife. "Nathan
+said last night he'd drive us over there any time. We'll go to-morrow,
+an' we won't come back here at all--it'll be ten miles nearer home
+there, an' it won't cost us a cent ter get there," he finished
+triumphantly. And to Cousin Abby's they went.
+
+So elated was Jeremiah with the result of his scheming that he set his
+wits to work in good earnest, and in less than a week he had formulated
+an itinerary that embraced the homes of two other cousins, an aunt of
+Sarah Ellen's, and the niece of a brother-in-law, the latter being only
+three miles from 'his own farmhouse--or rather William's farmhouse, as
+he corrected himself bitterly. Before another month had passed, the
+round of visits was accomplished, and the little old man and the little
+old woman--having been carried to their destination in each case by
+their latest host--finally arrived at the farmhouse door. They were
+weary, penniless, and half-sick from being feasted and fêted at every
+turn, but they were blissfully conscious that of no one had they been
+obliged to beg the price of their journey home.
+
+"We didn't write we were comin'," apologized Jeremiah faintly, as he
+stumbled across the threshold and dropped into the nearest chair. "We
+were goin' ter write from Keziah's, but we were so tired we hurried
+right up an' come home. 'Tis nice ter get here; ain't it, Hester?" he
+finished, settling back in his chair.
+
+"'Nice'!" cried Hester tremulously, tugging at her bonnet strings.
+"'Nice' ain't no name for it, Jeremiah. Why, Sarah Ellen, seems if I
+don't want to do nothin' for a whole month but set in my own room an'
+jest look 'round all day!"
+
+"You poor dear--and that's all you shall do!" soothed Sarah Ellen; and
+Hester sighed, content. For so many, many weeks now she had sat upon
+strange chairs and looked out upon an unfamiliar world!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was midwinter when Jeremiah's last pair of shoes gave out. "An' there
+ain't a cent ter get any new ones, Hester," he exclaimed, ruefully eying
+the ominously thin place in the sole.
+
+"I know, Jeremiah, but there's William," murmured Hester. "I'm sure he--"
+
+"Oh, of course, he'd give it to me," cried Jeremiah quickly; "but--I--I
+sort of hate to ask."
+
+"Pooh! I wouldn't think of that," declared Hester stoutly, but even as
+she spoke, she tucked her own feet farther under her chair. "We gave
+them the farm, and they understood they was to take care of us, of
+course."
+
+"Hm-m, yes, I know, I know. I'll ask him," murmured Jeremiah--but he did
+not ask him until the ominously thin place in the sole had become a
+hole, large, round, and unmistakable.
+
+"Well, William," he began jocosely, trying to steady his shaking voice,
+"guess them won't stand for it much longer!" And he held up the shoe,
+sole uppermost.
+
+"Well, I should say not!" laughed William; then his face changed. "Oh,
+and you'll have to have the money for some new ones, of course. By
+George! It does beat all how I keep forgetting about that bank!"
+
+"I know, William, I'm sorry," stammered the old man miserably.
+
+"Oh, I can let you have it all right, father, and glad to," assured
+William, still frowning. "It's only that just at this time I'm a little
+short, and--" He stopped abruptly and thrust his hands into his pockets.
+"Hm-m," he vouchsafed after a minute. "Well, I'll tell you what--I
+haven't got any now, but in a day or two I'll take you over to the
+village and see what Skinner's got that will fit you. Oh, we'll have
+some shoes, father, never fear!" he laughed. "You don't suppose I'm
+going to let my father go barefoot!--eh?" And he laughed again.
+
+Things wore out that winter in the most unaccountable fashion--at least
+those belonging to Jeremiah and Hester did, especially undergarments.
+One by one they came to mending, and one by one Hester mended them,
+patch upon patch, until sometimes there was left scarcely a thread of
+the original garment. Once she asked William for money to buy new ones,
+but it happened that William was again short, and though the money she
+had asked for came later, Hester did not make that same request again.
+
+There were two things that Hester could not patch very successfully--her
+shoes. She fried to patch them to be sure, but the coarse thread knotted
+in her shaking old hands, and the bits of leather--cut from still older
+shoes--slipped about and left her poor old thumb exposed to the sharp
+prick of the needle, so that she finally gave it up in despair. She
+tucked her feet still farther under her chair these days when Jeremiah
+was near, and she pieced down two of her dress skirts so that they might
+touch the floor all round. In spite of all this, however, Jeremiah saw,
+one day--and understood.
+
+"Hester," he cried sharply, "put out your foot."
+
+Hester did not hear--apparently. She lowered the paper she was reading
+and laughed a little hysterically.
+
+"Such a good joke, Jeremiah!" she quavered. "Just let me read it. A man--"
+
+"Hester, be them the best shoes you've got?" demanded Jeremiah.
+
+And Hester, with a wisdom born of fifty years' experience of that
+particular tone of voice, dropped her paper and her subterfuge, and said
+gently: "Yes, Jeremiah."
+
+There was a moment's pause; then Jeremiah sprang to his feet, thrust his
+hands into his pockets, and paced the tiny bedroom from end to end.
+
+"Hester, this thing's a-killin' me!" he blurted out at last. "Here I'm
+seventy-eight years old--an' I hain't got money enough ter buy my wife a
+pair of shoes!"
+
+"But the farm, Jeremiah--"
+
+"I tell ye the farm ain't mine," cut in Jeremiah savagely. "Look a-here,
+Hester, how do you s'pose it feels to a man who's paid his own way since
+he was a boy, bought a farm with his own money an' run it, brought up
+his boys an' edyercated 'em--how do ye s'pose it feels fur that man ter
+go ter his own son an' say: 'Please, sir, can't I have a nickel ter buy
+me a pair o' shoestrings?' How do ye s'pose it feels? I tell ye, Hester,
+I can't stand it--I jest can't! I'm goin' ter work."
+
+"Jere-mi-ah!"
+
+"Well, I am," repeated the old man doggedly. "You're goin' ter have some
+shoes, an' I'm goin' ter earn 'em. See if I don't!" And he squared his
+shoulders, and straightened his bent back as if already he felt the
+weight of a welcome burden.
+
+Spring came, and with it long sunny days and the smell of green things
+growing. Jeremiah began to be absent day after day from the farmhouse.
+The few tasks that he performed each morning were soon finished, and
+after that he disappeared, not to return until night. William wondered a
+little, but said nothing. Other and more important matters filled his
+mind.
+
+Only Hester noticed that the old man's step grew more languid and his
+eye more dull; and only Hester knew that at night he was sometimes too
+tired to sleep--that he could not "seem ter hit the bed," as he
+expressed it.
+
+It was at about this time that Hester began to make frequent visits to
+the half-dozen farmhouses in the settlement about them. She began to be
+wonderfully busy these days, too, knitting socks and mittens, or piecing
+up quilts. Sarah Ellen asked her sometimes what she was doing, but
+Hester's answers were always so cheery and bright that Sarah Ellen did
+not realize that the point was always evaded and the subject changed.
+
+It was in May that the inevitable happened. William came home one day to
+find an excited, weeping wife who hurried him into the seclusion of
+their own room.
+
+"William, William," she moaned, "what shall we do? It's father and
+mother; they've--oh, William, how can I tell you!" and she covered her
+face with her hands.
+
+William paled under his coat of tan. He gripped his wife's arm with
+fingers that hurt.
+
+"What is it--what's happened?" he asked hoarsely. "They aren't hurt or--dead?"
+
+"No, no," choked Sarah Ellen. "I didn't mean to frighten you. They're
+all right that way. They--they've <i>gone to work</i>! William, what
+<i>shall</i> we do?"
+
+Again William Whipple gripped his wife's arm with fingers that hurt.
+
+"Sarah Ellen, quit that crying, for Heaven's sake! What does this mean?
+What are you talking about?" he demanded.
+
+Sarah Ellen sopped her eyes with her handkerchief and lifted her head.
+
+"It was this morning. I was over to Maria Weston's," she explained
+brokenly. "Maria dropped something about a quilt mother was piecing for
+her, and when I asked her what in the world she meant, she looked queer,
+and said she supposed I knew. Then she tried to change the subject; but
+I wouldn't let her, and finally I got the whole story out of her."
+
+"Yes, yes, go on," urged William impatiently, as Sarah Ellen paused for
+breath.
+
+"It seems mother came to her a while ago, and--and she went to others,
+too. She asked if there wasn't some knitting or patchwork she could do
+for them. She said she--she wanted to earn some money." Sarah Ellen's
+voice broke over the last word, and William muttered something under his
+breath. "She said they'd lost all they had in the bank," went on Sarah
+Ellen hurriedly, "and that they didn't like to ask you for money."
+
+"Why, I always let them have--" began William defensively; then he
+stopped short, a slow red staining his face.
+
+"Yes, I know you have," interposed Sarah Ellen eagerly; "and I said so
+to Maria. But mother had already told her that, it seems. She said that
+mother said you were always glad to give it to them when they asked for
+it, but that it hurt father's pride to beg, so he'd gone to work to earn
+some of his own."
+
+"Father!" exclaimed William. "But I thought you said 'twas mother.
+Surely father isn't knitting socks and mittens, is he?"
+
+"No, no," cried Sarah Ellen. "I'm coming to that as fast as I can. You
+see, 'twas father who went to work first. He's been doing all sorts of
+little odd jobs, even to staying with the Snow children while their
+folks went to town, and spading up Nancy Howe's flower beds for her. But
+it's been wearing on him, and he was getting all tired out. Only think
+of it, William--<i>working out--father and mother</i>! I just can't ever
+hold up my head again! What <i>shall</i> we do?"
+
+"Do? Why, we'll stop it, of course," declared William savagely. "I guess
+I can support my own father and mother without their working for a
+living!"
+
+"But it's money, William, that they want. Don't you see?"
+
+"Well, we'll give them money, then. I always have, anyway,--when they
+asked for it," finished William in an aggrieved voice.
+
+Sarah Ellen shook her head.
+
+"It won't do," she sighed. "It might have done once--but not now.
+They've got to the point where they just can't accept money doled out to
+them like that. Why, just think, 't was all theirs once!"
+
+"Well, 'tis now--in a way."
+
+"I know--but we haven't acted as if it were. I can see that now, when
+it's too late."
+
+"We'll give it back, then," cried William, his face clearing; "the whole
+blamed farm!"
+
+Sarah Ellen frowned. She shook her head slowly, then paused, a dawning
+question in her eyes.
+
+"You don't suppose--William, could we?" she cried with sudden eagerness.
+
+"Well, we can try mighty hard," retorted the man grimly. "But we've got
+to go easy, Sarah Ellen,--no bungling. We've got to spin some sort of a
+yarn that won't break, nor have any weak places; and of course, as far
+as the real work of the farm is concerned, we'll still do the most of
+it. But the place'll be theirs. See?--theirs! <i>Working out</i>--good
+Heavens!"
+
+It must have been a week later that Jeremiah burst into his wife's room.
+Hester sat by the window, bending over numberless scraps of blue, red,
+and pink calico.
+
+"Put it up, put it up, Hester," he panted joyously. "Ye hain't got to
+sew no more, an' I hain't neither. The farm is ours!"
+
+"Why, Jeremiah, what--how--"
+
+"I don't know, Hester, no more than you do," laughed Jeremiah happily;
+"only William says he's tired of runnin' things all alone, an' he wants
+me to take hold again. They're goin' ter make out the papers right away;
+an' say, Hester,"--the bent shoulders drew themselves erect with an air
+of pride,--"I thought mebbe this afternoon we'd drive over ter
+Huntersville an' get some shoes for you. Ye know you're always needin'
+shoes!"
+
+
+
+
+The Long Road
+
+
+
+"Jane!"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"Is the house locked up?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Are ye sure, now?"
+
+"Why, yes, dear; I just did it."
+
+"Well, won't ye see?"
+
+"But I have seen, father." Jane did not often make so many words about
+this little matter, but she was particularly tired to-night.
+
+The old man fell back wearily.
+
+"Seems ter me, Jane, ye might jest see," he fretted. "'T ain't much I'm
+askin' of ye, an' ye know them spoons--"
+
+"Yes, yes, dear, I'll go," interrupted the woman hurriedly.
+
+"And, Jane!"
+
+"Yes." The woman turned and waited. She knew quite well what was coming,
+but it was the very exquisiteness of her patient care that allowed her
+to give no sign that she had waited in that same spot to hear those same
+words every night for long years past.
+
+"An' ye might count 'em--them spoons," said the old man.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"An' the forks."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"An' them photygraph pictures in the parlor."
+
+"All right, father." The woman turned away. Her step was slow, but
+confident--the last word had been said.
+
+To Jane Pendergast her father had gone with the going of his keen, clear
+mind, twenty years before. This fretful, childish, exacting old man that
+pottered about the house all day was but the shell that had held the
+kernel--the casket that had held the jewel. But because of what it had
+held, Jane guarded it tenderly, laying at its feet her life as a willing
+sacrifice.
+
+There had been four children: Edgar, the eldest; Jane, Mary, and Fred.
+Edgar had left home early, and was a successful business man in Boston.
+Mary had married a wealthy lawyer of the same city; and Fred had opened
+a real estate office in a thriving Southern town.
+
+Jane had stayed at home. There had been a time, it is true, when she had
+planned to go away to school; but the death of Mrs. Pendergast left no
+one at home to care for Mary and Fred, so Jane had abandoned the idea.
+Later, after Mary had married and Fred had gone away, there was still
+her father to be cared for, though at this time he was well and strong.
+
+Jane had passed her thirty-fifth birthday, when she became palpitatingly
+aware of a pair of blue-gray eyes, and a determined, smooth-shaven chin
+belonging to the recently arrived principal of the village school. In
+spite of her stern admonition to herself to remember her years and not
+quite lose her head, she was fast drifting into a rosy dream of romance
+that was all the more enthralling because so belated, when the summons
+of a small boy brought her sharply back to the realities.
+
+"It's yer father, miss. They want ye ter come," he panted. "Somethin'
+has took him. He's in Mackey's drug store, talkin' awful queer. He ain't
+his self, ye know. They thought maybe you could--do somethin'."
+
+Jane went at once--but she could do nothing except to lead gently home
+the chattering, shifting-eyed thing that had once been her father. One
+after another the village physicians shook their heads--they could do
+nothing. Skilled alienists from the city--they, too, could do nothing.
+There was nothing that could be done, they said, except to care for him
+as one would for a child. He would live years, probably. His
+constitution was wonderfully good. He would not be violent--just foolish
+and childish, with perhaps a growing irritability as the years passed
+and his physical strength failed.
+
+Mary and Edgar had come home at once. Mary had stayed two days and Edgar
+five hours. They were shocked and dismayed at their father's condition.
+So overwhelmed with grief were they, indeed, that they fled from the
+room almost immediately upon seeing him, and Edgar took the first train
+out of town.
+
+Mary, shiveringly, crept from room to room, trying to find a place where
+the cackling laugh and the fretful voice would not reach her. But the
+old man, like a child with a new toy, was pleased at his daughter's
+arrival, and followed her about the house with unfailing persistence.
+
+"But, Mary, he won't hurt you. Why do you run?" remonstrated Jane.
+
+Mary shuddered and covered her face with her hands.
+
+"Jane, Jane, how can you take it so calmly!" she moaned. "How can you
+bear it?"
+
+There was a moment's pause. A curious expression had come to Jane's
+face.
+
+"Some one--has to," she said at last, quietly.
+
+Jane went down to the village the next afternoon, leaving her sister in
+charge at home. When she returned, an hour later, Mary met her at the
+gate, crying and wringing her hands.
+
+"Jane, Jane, I thought you would never come! I can't do a thing with
+him. He insists that he isn't at home, and that he wants to go there. I
+told him, over and over again, that he <i>was</i> at home already, but
+it didn't do a bit of good. I've had a perfectly awful time."
+
+"Yes, I know. Where is he?"
+
+"In the kitchen. I--I tied him. He just would go, and I couldn't hold
+him."
+
+"Oh, <i>Mary</i>!" And Jane fairly flew up the walk to the kitchen door.
+A minute later she appeared, leading an old man, who was whimpering
+pitifully.
+
+"Home, Jane. I want ter go home."
+
+"Yes, dear, I know. We'll go." And Mary watched with wondering eyes
+while the two walked down the path, through the gate and across the
+street to the next corner, then slowly crossed again and came back
+through the familiar doorway.
+
+"Home!" chuckled the old man gleefully.
+
+"We've come home!"
+
+Mary went back to Boston the next day. She said it was fortunate,
+indeed, that Jane's nerves were so strong. For her part, she could not
+have stood it another day.
+
+The days slipped into weeks, and the weeks into months. Jane took the
+entire care of her father, except that she hired a woman to come in for
+an hour or two once or twice a week, when she herself was obliged to
+leave the house.
+
+The owner of the blue-gray eyes did not belie the determination of his
+chin, but made a valiant effort to establish himself on the basis of the
+old intimacy; but Miss Pendergast held herself sternly aloof, and
+refused to listen to him. In a year he had left town--but it was not his
+fault that he was obliged to go away alone, as Jane Pendergast well
+knew.
+
+One by one the years passed. Twenty had gone by now since the small boy
+came with his fateful summons that June day. Jane was fifty-five now, a
+thin-faced, stoop-shouldered, tired woman--but a woman to whom release
+from this constant care was soon to come, for she was not yet fifty-six
+when her father died.
+
+All the children and some of the grandchildren came to the funeral. In
+the evening the family, with the exception of Jane, gathered in the
+sitting-room and discussed the future, while upstairs the woman whose
+fate was most concerned laid herself wearily in bed with almost a pang
+that she need not now first be doubly sure that doors were locked and
+spoons were counted.
+
+In the sitting-room below, discussion waxed warm.
+
+"But what shall we do with her?" demanded Mary. "I had meant to give her
+my share of the property," she added with an air of great generosity,
+"but it seems there's nothing to give."
+
+"No, there's nothing to give," returned Edgar. "The house had to be
+mortgaged long ago to pay their living expenses, and it will have to be
+sold."
+
+"But she's got to live somewhere!" Mary's voice was fretful,
+questioning.
+
+For a moment there was silence; then Edgar stirrad in his chair.
+
+"Well, why can't she go to you, Mary?" he asked.
+
+"Me!" Mary almost screamed the word.
+
+"Why, Edgar!--when you know how much I have on my hands with my great
+house and all my social duties, to say nothing of Belle's engagement!"
+
+"Well, maybe Jane could help."
+
+"Help! How, pray?--to entertain my guests?" And even Edgar smiled as he
+thought of Jane, in her five-year-old bonnet and her ten-year-old black
+gown, standing in the receiving line at an exclusive Commonwealth Avenue
+reception.
+
+"Well, but--" Edgar paused impotently.
+
+"Why don't you take her?" It was Mary who made the suggestion.
+
+"I? Oh, but I--" Edgar stopped and glanced uneasily at his wife.
+
+"Why, of course, if it's <i>necessary</i>," murmured Mrs. Edgar, with a
+resigned air. "I should certainly never wish it said that I refused a
+home to any of my husband's poor relations."
+
+"Oh, good Heavens! Let her come to us," cut in Fred sharply. "I reckon
+we can take care of our 'poor relations' for a spell yet; eh, Sally?"
+
+"Why, sure we can," retorted. Fred's wife, in her soft Southern drawl.
+"We'll be right glad to take her, I reckon." And there the matter
+ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Jane Pendergast had been South two months, when one day Edgar received a
+letter from his brother Fred.
+
+Jane's going North [wrote Fred]. Sally says she can't have her in the
+house another week. 'Course, we don't want to tell Jane exactly
+that--but we've fixed it so she's going to leave.
+
+I'm sorry if this move causes you folks any trouble, but there just
+wasn't any other way out of it. You see, Sally is Southern and
+easy-going, and I suppose not over-particular in the eyes of you stiff
+Northerners. I don't mind things, either, and I suppose I'm easy, too.
+
+Well, great Scott!--Jane hadn't been down here five minutes before she
+began to "slick up," as she called it--and she's been "slickin' up" ever
+since. Sally always left things round handy, and so've the children; but
+since Jane came, we haven't been able to find a thing when we wanted it.
+All our boots and shoes are put away, turned toes out, and all our hats
+and coats are snatched up and hung on pegs the minute we toss them off.
+
+Maybe this don't seem much to you, but it's lots to us. Anyhow, Jane's
+going North. She says she's going to visit Edgar a little while, and I
+told her I'd write and tell you she's coming. She'll be there about the
+20th. Will wire you what train.
+
+Your affectionate brother
+
+FRED
+
+As gently as possible Edgar broke to his wife the news of the
+prospective guest. Julia Pendergast was a good woman. At least she often
+said that she was, adding, at the same time, that she never knowingly
+refused to do her duty. She said the same thing now to her husband, and
+she immediately made some very elaborate and very apparent changes in
+her home and in her plans, all with an eye to the expected guest. At
+four o'clock Wednesday afternoon Edgar met his sister at the station.
+
+"Well, I don't see as you've changed much," he said kindly.
+
+"Haven't I? Why, seems as if I must look changed a lot," chirruped Jane.
+"I'm so rested, and Fred and Sally were so good to me! Why, they tried
+not to have me do a thing--and I didn't do much, only a little puttering
+around just to help out with the work."
+
+"Hm-m," murmured Edgar. "Well, I'm glad to see you're--rested."
+
+Julia met them in the hall of the beautiful Brookline residence. Lined
+up with her were the four younger children, who lived at home. They made
+an imposing array, and Jane was visibly affected.
+
+"Oh, it's so good of you--to meet me--like this!" she faltered.
+
+"Why, we wished to, I'm sure," returned Mrs. Pendergast, with a
+half-stifled sigh. "I hope I understand my duty to my guest and my
+sister-in-law sufficiently to know what is her due. I did not allow
+anything--not even my committee meeting to-day--to interfere with this
+call for duty at home."
+
+Jane fell back. All the glow fled from her face.
+
+"Oh, then you did stay at home--and for me! I'm so sorry," she
+stammered.
+
+But Mrs. Pendergast raised a deprecatory hand.
+
+"Say no more. It was nothing. Now come, let me show you to your room.
+I've given you Ella's room, and put Ella in Tom's, and Tom in Bert's,
+and moved Bert upstairs to the little room over--"
+
+"Oh, don't!" interrupted Jane, in quick distress. "I don't want to put
+people out so! Let me go upstairs." Mrs. Pendergast frowned and sighed.
+She had the air of one whose kindest efforts are misunderstood.
+
+"My dear Jane, I am sorry, but I shall have to ask you to be as
+satisfied as you can be with the arrangements I am able to make for you.
+You see, even though this house is large, I am, in a way, cramped for
+room. I always have to keep three guest-rooms ready for immediate
+occupancy. I am a member of four clubs and six charitable and religious
+organizations, besides the church, and there are always ministers and
+delegates whom I feel it my duty to entertain."
+
+"But that is all the more reason why I should go upstairs, and not put
+all those children out of their rooms," begged Jane.
+
+Mrs. Pendergast shook her head.
+
+"It does them good," she said decidely, "to learn to be
+self-sacrificing. That is a virtue we all must learn to practice."
+
+Jane flushed again; then she turned abruptly. "Julia, did you want me
+to--to come to see you?" she asked.
+
+"Why, certainly; what a question!" returned Mrs. Pendergast, in a
+properly shocked tone of voice. "As if I could do otherwise than to want
+my husband's sister to come to us."
+
+Jane smiled faintly, but her eyes were troubled.
+
+"Thank you; I'm glad you feel--that way. You see, at Fred's--I wouldn't
+have them know it for the world, they were <i>so</i> good to me--but I
+thought, lately, that maybe they didn't want--But it wasn't so, of
+course. It couldn't have been. I--I ought not even to think it."
+
+"Hm-m; no," returned Mrs. Pendergast, with noncommittal briefness.
+
+Not six weeks later Mary, in her beautiful Commonwealth Avenue home,
+received a call from a little, thin-faced woman, who curtsied to the
+butler and asked him to please tell her sister that she wished to speak
+to her.
+
+Mary looked worried and not over-cordial when she rustled into the room.
+
+"Why, Jane, did you find your way here all alone?" she cried.
+
+"Yes--no--well, I asked a man at the last; but, you know, I've been here
+twice before with the others."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Mary.
+
+There was a pause; then Jane cleared her throat timidly.
+
+"Mary, I--I've been thinking. You see, just as soon as I'm strong
+enough, I--I'm going to take care of myself, and then I won't be a
+burden to--to anybody." Jane was talking very fast now. Her words came
+tremulously between short, broken breaths. "But until I get well enough
+to earn money, I can't, you see. And I've been thinking;--would you be
+willing to take me until--until I can? I'm lots better, already, and
+getting stronger every day. It wouldn't be for--long."
+
+"Why, of course, Jane!" Mary spoke cheerfully, and in a tone a little
+higher than her ordinary voice. "I should have asked you to come here
+before, only I feared you wouldn't be happy here--such a different life
+for you, and so much noise and confusion with Belle's wedding coming on,
+and all!"
+
+Jane gave her a grateful glance.
+
+"I know, of course,--you'd think that,--and it isn't that I'm finding
+fault with Julia and Edgar. I couldn't do that--they're so good to me.
+But, you see, I put them out so. Now, there's my room, for one thing. 'T
+was Ella's, and Ella has to keep running in for things she's left, and
+she says it's the same with the others. You see, I've got Ella's room,
+and Ella's got Tom's, and Tom's got Bert's. It's a regular 'house that
+Jack built'--and I'm the 'Jack'!"
+
+"I see," laughed Mary constrainedly. "And you want to come here? Well,
+you shall. You--you may come a week from Saturday," she added, after a
+pause. "I have a reception and a dinner here the first of the week, and
+--you'd better stay away until after that."
+
+"Oh, thank you," sighed Jane. "You are so good. I shall tell Julia that
+I'm invited here, so she won't think I'm dissatisfied. They're so good
+to me--I wouldn't want to hurt their feelings!"
+
+"Of course not," murmured Mary.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The big, fat tire of the touring-car popped like a pistol shot directly
+in front of the large white house with the green blinds.
+
+"This is the time we're in luck, Belle," laughed the good-natured young
+fellow who had been driving the car. "Do you see that big piazza just
+aching for you to come and sit on it?"
+
+"Are we really stalled, Will?" asked the girl.
+
+"Looks like it--for a while. I'll have to telephone Peters to bring
+down a tire. Of course, to-day is the day we <i>didn't</i> take it!"
+
+Some minutes later the girl found herself on the cool piazza, in charge
+of a wonderfully hospitable old lady, while down the road the
+good-looking young fellow was making long strides toward the next house
+and a telephone.
+
+"We are staying at the Lindsays', in North Belton," explained the girl,
+when he was gone, "and we came out for a little spin before dinner.
+Isn't this Belton? I have an aunt who used to live here somewhere--Aunt
+Jane Pendergast".
+
+The old lady sat suddenly erect in her chair.
+
+"My dear," she cried, "you don't mean to say that you're Jane
+Pendergast's niece! Now, that is queer! Why, this was her very house--we
+bought it when the old gentleman died last year. But, come, we'll go
+inside. You'll want to see everything, of course!"
+
+It was some time before the young man came back from telephoning, and it
+was longer still before Peters came with the new tire, and helped get
+the touring-car ready for the road. The girl was very quiet when they
+finally left the house, and there was a troubled look deep in her eyes.
+
+"Why, Belle, what's the matter?" asked the young fellow concernedly, as
+he slackened speed in the cool twilight of the woods, some minutes
+later. "What's troubling you, dear?"
+
+"Will"--the girl's voice shook--"Will, that was Aunt Jane's house. That
+old lady--told me."
+
+"Aunt Jane?"
+
+"Yes, yes--the little gray-haired woman that came to live with us two
+months ago. You know her."
+
+"Why, y-yes; I think I've--seen her."
+
+The girl winced, as from a blow.
+
+"Will, don't! I can't bear it," she choked. "It only shows how we've
+treated her--how little we've made of her, when we ought to have done
+everything--everything to make her happy. Instead of that, we were
+brutes--all of us!"
+
+"Belle!"--the tone was an indignant protest.
+
+"But we were--listen! She lived in that house all her life till last
+year. She never went anywhere or did anything. For twenty years she
+lived with an old man who had lost his mind, and she tended him like a
+baby--only a baby grows older all the time and more interesting, while
+he--oh, Will, it was awful! That old lady--told me."
+
+"By Jove!" exclaimed the young fellow, under his breath.
+
+"And there were other things," hurried on the girl, tremulously. "Some
+way, I never thought of Aunt Jane only as old and timid; but she was
+young like us, once. She wanted to go away to school--but she couldn't
+go; and there was some one who--loved her--once--later, and she sent
+him--away. That was after--after grandfather lost his mind. Mother and
+Uncle Edgar and Uncle Fred--they all went away and lived their own
+lives, but she stayed on. Then last year grandfather died."
+
+The girl paused and moistened her lips. The man did not speak. His eyes
+were on the road ahead of the slow-moving car.
+
+"I heard to-day--how--how proud and happy Aunt Jane was that Uncle Fred
+had asked her to come and live with him," resumed the girl, after a
+minute. "That old lady told me how Aunt Jane talked and talked about it
+before she went away, and how she said that all her life she had taken
+care of others, and it would be so good to feel that now some one was
+going to look out for her, though, of course, she should do everything
+she could to help, and she hoped she could still be of some use."
+
+"Well, she has been, hasn't she?"
+
+The girl shook her head.
+
+"That's the worst of it. We haven't made her think she was. She stayed
+at Uncle Fred's for a while, and then he sent her to Uncle Edgar's.
+Something must have been wrong there, for she asked mother two months
+ago if she might come to us."
+
+"Well, I'm sure you've been--good to her."
+
+"But we haven't!" cried the girl. "Mother meant all right, I know, but
+she didn't think. And I've been--horrid. Aunt Jane tried to show her
+interest in my wedding plans, but I only laughed at her and said she
+wouldn't understand. We've pushed her aside, always,--we've never made
+her one of us; and--we've always made her feel her dependence."
+
+"But you'll do differently now, dear,--now that you understand."
+
+Again the girl shook her head.
+
+"We can't," she moaned. "It's too late. I had a letter from mother last
+night. Aunt Jane's sick--awfully sick. Mother said I might expect to--to
+hear of the end any day."
+
+"But there's some time left--a little!"--his voice broke and choked into
+silence. Suddenly he made a quick movement, and the car beneath them
+leaped forward like a charger that feels the prick of the spur.
+
+The girl gave a frightened cry, then a tremulous little sob of joy. The
+man had cried in her ear, in response to her questioning eyes:
+
+"We're--going--to--Aunt Jane!"
+
+And to them both, at the moment, there seemed to be waiting at the end
+of the road a little bent old woman, into whose wistful eyes they were
+to bring the light of joy and peace.
+
+
+
+
+A Couple of Capitalists
+
+
+
+On the top of the hill stood the big brick house--a mansion, compared to
+the other houses of the New England village. At the foot of the hill
+nestled the tiny brown farmhouse, half buried in lilacs, climbing roses,
+and hollyhocks.
+
+Years ago, when Reuben had first brought Emily to that little brown
+cottage, he had said to her, ruefully: "Sweetheart, 'tain't much of a
+place, I know, but we'll save and save, every cent we can get, an' by
+an' by we'll go up to live in the big house on the hill!" And he kissed
+so tenderly the pretty little woman he had married only that morning
+that she smiled brightly and declared that the small brown house was the
+very nicest place in the world.
+
+But, as time passed, the "big house" came to be the Mecca of all their
+hopes, and penny by penny the savings grew. It was slow work, though,
+and to hearts less courageous the thing would have seemed an
+impossibility. No luxuries--and scarcely the bare necessities of
+life--came to the little house under the hill, but every month a tiny
+sum found its way into the savings bank. Fortunately, air and sunshine
+were cheap, and, if inside the house there was lack of beauty and cheer,
+outside there was a riotous wealth of color and bloom--the flowers under
+Emily's loving care flourished and multiplied.
+
+The few gowns in the modest trousseau had been turned inside out and
+upside down, only to be dyed and turned and twisted all over again. But
+what was a dyed gown, when one had all that money in the bank and the
+big house on the hill in prospect! Reuben's best suit grew rusty and
+seedy, but the man patiently, even gleefully, wore it as long as it
+would hang together; and when the time came that new garments must be
+bought for both husband and wife, only the cheapest and flimsiest of
+material was purchased--but the money in the bank grew.
+
+Reuben never smoked. While other men used the fragrant weed to calm
+their weary brains and bodies, Reuben--ate peanuts. It had been a
+curious passion of his, from the time when as a boy he was first
+presented with a penny for his very own, to spend all his spare cash on
+this peculiar luxury; and the slow munching of this plebeian delicacy
+had the same soothing effect on him that a good cigar or an old clay
+pipe had upon his brother-man. But from the day of his marriage all
+this was changed; the dimes and the nickels bought no more peanuts, but
+went to swell the common fund.
+
+It is doubtful if even this heroic economy would have accomplished the
+desired end had not a certain railroad company cast envious eyes upon
+the level valley and forthwith sent long arms of steel bearing a puffing
+engine up through the quiet village. A large tract of waste land
+belonging to Reuben Gray suddenly became surprisingly valuable, and a
+sum that trebled twice over the scanty savings of years grew all in a
+night.
+
+One crisp October day, Mr. and Mrs. Reuben Gray awoke to the fact that
+they were a little under sixty years of age, and in possession of more
+than the big sum of money necessary to enable them to carry out the
+dreams of their youth. They began joyous preparations at once.
+
+The big brick house at the top of the hill had changed hands twice
+during the last forty years, and the present owner expressed himself as
+nothing loath to part, not only with the house itself, but with many of
+its furnishings; and before the winter snow fell the little brown
+cottage was sold to a thrifty young couple from the neighboring village,
+and the Grays took up their abode in their new home.
+
+"Well, Em'ly, this is livin', now, ain't it?" said Reuben, as he
+carefully let himself down into the depths of a velvet-covered chair in
+the great parlor. "My! ain't this nice!"
+
+"Just perfectly lovely," quavered the thin voice of his wife, as she
+threw a surreptitious glance at Reuben's shoes to see if they were quite
+clean enough for such sacred precincts.
+
+It was their first evening in their new abode, and they were a little
+weary, for they had spent the entire day in exploring every room,
+peering into every closet, and trying every chair that the establishment
+contained. It was still quite early when they trudged anxiously about
+the house, intent on fastening the numerous doors and windows.
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed the little woman nervously, "I'm 'most afraid to go
+to bed, Reuben, for fear some one will break in an' steal all these nice
+things."
+
+"Well, you can sit up if you want to," replied her husband dryly, "but I
+shall go to bed. Most of these things have been here nigh on to twenty
+years, an' I guess they'll last the night through." And he marched
+solemnly upstairs to the big east chamber, meekly followed by his wife.
+
+It was the next morning when Mrs. Gray was washing the breakfast dishes
+that her husband came in at the kitchen door and stood looking
+thoughtfully at her.
+
+"Say, Emily," said he, "you'd oughter have a hired girl. 'T ain't your
+place to be doin' work like this now."
+
+Mrs. Gray gasped--half terrified, half pleased--and shook her head; but
+her husband was not to be silenced.
+
+"Well, you had--an' you've got to, too. An' you must buy some new
+clothes--lots of 'em! Why, Em'ly, we've got heaps of money now, an' we
+hadn't oughter wear such lookin' things."
+
+Emily nodded; she had thought of this before. And the hired-girl hint
+must have found a warm spot in her heart in which to grow, for that very
+afternoon she sallied forth, intent on a visit to her counselor on all
+occasions--the doctor's wife.
+
+"Well, Mis' Steele, I don't know what to do. Reuben says I ought to have
+a hired girl; but I hain't no more idea where to get one than anything,
+an' I don't know's I want one, if I did."
+
+And Mrs. Gray sat back in her chair and rocked violently to and fro,
+eying her hostess with the evident consciousness of having presented a
+poser. That resourceful woman, however, was far from being nonplussed;
+she beamed upon her visitor with a joyful smile.
+
+"Just the thing, my dear Mrs. Gray! You know I am to go South with May
+for the winter. The house will be closed and the doctor at the hotel. I
+had just been wondering what to do with Nancy, for I want her again in
+the spring. Now, you can have her until then, and by that time you will
+know how you like the idea of keeping a girl. She is a perfect treasure,
+capable of carrying along the entire work of the household, only"--and
+Mrs. Steele paused long enough to look doubtfully at her friend--"she is
+a little independent, and won't stand much interference."
+
+Fifteen minutes later Mrs. Gray departed, well pleased though withal a
+little frightened. She spent the rest of the afternoon in trying to
+decide between a black alpaca and a green cashmere dress.
+
+That night Reuben brought home a large bag of peanuts and put them down
+in triumph on the kitchen table.
+
+"There!" he announced in high glee, "I'm goin' to have a bang-up good
+time!"
+
+"Why, Reuben," remonstrated his wife gently, "you can't eat them
+things--you hain't got no teeth to chew 'em with!"
+
+The man's lower jaw dropped.
+
+"Well, I'm a-goin' to try it, anyhow," he insisted. And try he did; but
+the way his poor old stomach rebelled against the half-masticated things
+effectually prevented a repetition of the feast.
+
+Early on Monday morning Nancy appeared. Mrs. Gray assumed a brave
+aspect, but she quaked in her shoes as she showed the big strapping girl
+to her room. Five minutes later Nancy came into the kitchen to find Mrs.
+Gray bending over an obstinate coal fire in the range--with neither coal
+nor range was the little woman in the least familiar.
+
+"There, now," said Nancy briskly, "I'll fix that. You just tell me what
+you want for dinner, and I can find the things myself." And she attacked
+the stove with such a clatter and din that Mrs. Gray retreated in
+terror, murmuring "ham and eggs, if you please," as she fled through the
+door. Once in the parlor, she seated herself in the middle of the room
+and thought how nice it was not to get dinner; but she jumped nervously
+at every sound from the kitchen.
+
+On Tuesday she had mastered her fear sufficiently to go into the kitchen
+and make a cottage cheese. She did not notice the unfavorable glances of
+her maid-of-all-work. Wednesday morning she spent happily puttering over
+"doing up" some handkerchiefs, and she wondered why Nancy kept banging
+the oven door so often. Thursday she made a special kind of pie that
+Reuben liked, and remarked pointedly to Nancy that she herself never
+washed dishes without wearing an extra apron; furthermore, she always
+placed the pans the other way in the sink. Friday she rearranged the
+tins on the pantry shelves, that Nancy had so unaccountably mussed up.
+On Saturday the inevitable explosion came:
+
+"If you please, mum, I'm willin' to do your work, but seems to me it
+don't make no difference to you whether I wear one apron or six, or
+whether I hang my dish-towels on a string or on the bars, or whether I
+wash goblets or kittles first; and I ain't in the habit of havin' folks
+spyin' round on me. If you want me to go, I'll go; but if I stay, I want
+to be let alone!"
+
+Poor little Mrs. Gray fled to her seat in the parlor, and for the rest
+of that winter she did not dare to call her soul her own; but her table
+was beautifully set and served, and her house was as neat as wax.
+
+The weeks passed and Reuben began to be restless. One day he came in
+from the post office fairly bubbling over with excitement.
+
+"Say, Em'ly, when folks have money they travel. Let's go somewhere!"
+
+"Why, Reuben--where?" quavered his wife, dropping into the nearest
+chair.
+
+"Oh, I dunno," with cheerful vagueness; then, suddenly animated, "Let's
+go to Boston and see the sights!"
+
+"But, Reuben, we don't know no one there," ventured his wife doubtfully.
+
+"Pooh! What if we don't? Hain't we got money? Can't we stay at a hotel?
+Well, I guess we can!"
+
+And his overwhelming courage put some semblance of confidence into the
+more timid heart of his wife, until by the end of the week she was as
+eager as he.
+
+Nancy was tremblingly requested to take a two weeks' vacation, and great
+was the rejoicing when she graciously acquiesced.
+
+On a bright February morning the journey began. It was not a long
+one--four hours only--and the time flew by as on wings of the wind.
+Reuben assumed an air of worldly wisdom, quite awe-inspiring to his
+wife. He had visited Boston as a boy, and so had a dim idea of what to
+expect; moreover, he had sold stock and produce in the large towns near
+his home, and on the whole felt quite self-sufficient.
+
+As the long train drew into the station, and they alighted and followed
+the crowd, Mrs. Gray looked with round eyes of wonder at the people--she
+had not realized that there were so many in the world, and she clung
+closer and closer to Reuben, who was marching along with a fine show of
+indifference.
+
+"There," said he, as he deposited his wife and his bags in a seat in the
+huge waiting-room; "now you stay right here, an' don't you move. I'm
+goin' to find out about hotels and things."
+
+He was gone so long that she was nearly fainting from fright before she
+spied his dear form coming toward her. His thin, plain face looked
+wonderfully beautiful to her, and she almost hugged him right before all
+those people.
+
+"Well, I've got a hotel all right; but I hain't been here for so long
+I've kinder forgot about the streets, so the man said we'd better have a
+team to take us there." And he picked up the bags and trudged off,
+closely followed by Emily.
+
+His shrewd Yankee wit carried him safely through a bargain with the
+driver, and they were soon jolting and rumbling along to their
+destination. He had asked the man behind the news-stand about a hotel,
+casually mentioning that he had money--plenty of it--and wanted a
+"bang-up good place." The spirit of mischief had entered the heart of
+the news-man, and he had given Reuben the name of one of the very
+highest-priced, most luxurious hotels in the city.
+
+As the carriage stopped, Reuben marched boldly up the broad steps and
+entered the palatial office, with Emily close at his heels. Two
+bell-boys sprang forward--the one to take the bags, the other to offer
+to show Mrs. Gray to the reception-room.
+
+"No, thank you, I ain't particular," said she sweetly; "I'll wait for
+Reuben here." And she dropped into the nearest chair, while her husband
+advanced toward the desk. She noticed that men were looking curiously at
+her, and she felt relieved when Reuben and the pretty boy came back and
+said they would go up to their room.
+
+She stood the elevator pretty well, though she gave a little gasp (which
+she tried to choke into a cough) as it started. Reuben turned to the
+boy.
+
+"Where can I get somethin' to eat?"
+
+"Luncheon is being served in the main dining-room on the first floor,
+sir."
+
+Visions of a lunch as he knew it in Emily's pantry came to him, and he
+looked a little dubious.
+
+"Well, I'm pretty hungry; but if that's all I can get I suppose it will
+have to do."
+
+Ten minutes later an officious head waiter, whom Emily looked upon with
+timid awe, was seating them in a superbly appointed dining-room. Reuben
+looked at the menu doubtfully, while an attentive, soft-voiced man at
+his elbow bent low to catch his order. Few of the strange-looking words
+conveyed any sort of meaning to the poor hungry man. At length spying
+"chicken" halfway down the card, he pointed to it in relief.
+
+"I guess I'll take some of that," he said, briefly; then he added, "I
+don't know how much it costs--you hain't got no price after it."
+
+The waiter comprehended at once.
+
+"The luncheon is served in courses, sir; you pay for the whole--whether
+you eat it or not," he added shrewdly. "If you will let me serve you
+according to my judgment, sir, I think I can please you."
+
+And there the forlorn little couple sat, amazed and hungry, through six
+courses, each one of which seemed to their uneducated palate one degree
+worse than the last.
+
+Two hours later they started for a long walk down the wonderful,
+fascinating street. Each marvelous window display came in for its full
+share of attention, but they stood longest before bakeries and
+restaurants. Finally, upon coming to one of the latter, where an
+enticing sign announced "<i>Boiled Dinner To-day, Served Hot at All
+Hours</i>," Reuben could endure it no longer.
+
+"By Jinks, Em'ly, I've just got to have some of that. That stodged-up
+mess I ate at the hotel didn't go to the spot at all. Come on, let's
+have a good square meal."
+
+The hotel knew them just one night. The next morning before breakfast
+Reuben manfully paid his--to him astounding--bill and departed for more
+congenial quarters, which they soon found on a neighboring side street.
+
+The rest of the visit was, of course, delightful, only the streets were
+pretty crowded and noisy, and they couldn't sleep very well at night;
+moreover, Reuben lost his pocketbook with a small sum of money in it;
+so, on the whole, they concluded to go home a little before the two
+weeks ended.
+
+When spring came Nancy returned to her former mistress, and her vacant
+throne remained unoccupied. Little by little the dust gathered on the
+big velvet chairs in the parlor, and the room was opened less and less.
+When the first green things commenced to send tender shoots up through
+the wet, brown earth, Reuben's restlessness was very noticeable. By and
+by he began to go off very early in the morning, returning at noon for a
+hasty dinner, then away again till night. To his wife's repeated
+questioning he would reply, sheepishly, "Oh, just loafin', that's all."
+
+And Emily was nervous, too. Of late she had taken a great fancy to a
+daily walk, and it always led in one direction--down past the little
+brown house. Of course, she glanced over the fence at the roses and
+lilacs, and she couldn't help seeing that they all looked sadly
+neglected. By and by the weeds came, grew, and multiplied; and every
+time she passed the gate her throat fairly choked in sympathy with her
+old pets.
+
+Evenings, she and Reuben spent very happily on the back stoop, talking
+of their great good fortune in being able to live in such a fine large
+house. Somehow they said more than usual about it this spring, and
+Reuben often mentioned how glad he was that his wife didn't have to dig
+in the garden any more; and Emily would reply that she, too, was glad
+that he was having so easy a time. Then they would look down at the
+little brown farmhouse and wonder how they ever managed to get along in
+so tiny a place.
+
+One day, in passing this same little house, Emily stopped a moment and
+leaned over the gate, that she might gain a better view of her favorite
+rosebush.
+
+She evinced the same interest the next two mornings, and on the third
+she timidly opened the gate and walked up the old path to the door. A
+buxom woman with a big baby in her arms, and a bigger one hanging to her
+skirts, answered her knock.
+
+"How do you do, Mis' Gray. Won't you come in?" said she civilly, looking
+mildly surprised.
+
+"No, thank you--yes--I mean--I came to see you," stammered Emily
+confusedly.
+
+"You're very good," murmured the woman, still standing in the doorway.
+
+"Your flowers are so pretty," ventured Mrs. Gray, unable to keep the
+wistfulness out of her voice.
+
+"Do you think so?" carelessly; "I s'pose they need weedin'. What with my
+babies an' all, I don't get much time for posies."
+
+"Oh, please,--would it be too much trouble to let me come an' putter
+around in the beds?" queried the little woman eagerly. "Oh, I would like
+it so much!"
+
+The other laughed heartily.
+
+"Well, I really don't see how it's goin' to trouble me to have you
+weedin' my flowers; in fact, I should think the shoe would be on the
+other foot." Then the red showed in her face a little. "You're welcome
+to do whatever you want, Mis' Gray."
+
+"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed Emily, as she quickly pulled up an enormous
+weed at her feet.
+
+It took but a few hours' work to bring about a wonderfully happy change
+in that forlorn garden, and then Mrs. Gray found that she had a big pile
+of weeds to dispose of. Filling her apron with a portion of them, she
+started to go behind the house in search of a garbage heap. Around the
+corner she came face to face with her husband, hoe in hand.
+
+"Why, Reuben Gray! Whatever in the world are <i>you</i> doing?"
+
+For a moment the man was crushed with the enormity of his crime; then he
+caught sight of his wife's dirt-stained fingers.
+
+"Well, I guess I ain't doin' no worse than you be!" And he turned his
+back and began to hoe vigorously.
+
+Emily dropped the weeds where she stood, turned about, and walked
+through the garden and up the hill, pondering many things.
+
+Supper was strangely quiet that night. Mrs. Gray had asked a single
+question: "Reuben, do you want the little house back?"
+
+A glad light leaped into the old man's eyes.
+
+"Em'ly--would you be willin' to?"
+
+After the supper dishes were put away, Mrs. Gray, with a light shawl
+over her head, came to her husband on the back stoop.
+
+"Come, dear; I think we'd better go down to-night."
+
+A few minutes later they sat stiffly in the best room of the farmhouse,
+while the buxom woman and her husband looked wonderingly at them.
+
+"You wan't thinkin' of sellin', was ye?" began Reuben insinuatingly.
+
+The younger man's eyelid quivered a little. "Well, no,--I can't hardly
+say that I was. I hain't but just bought."
+
+Reuben hitched his chair a bit and glanced at Emily.
+
+"Well, me and my wife have concluded that we're too old to
+transplant--we don't seem to take root very easy--and we've been
+thinkin'--would you swap even, now?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It must have been a month later that Reuben Gray and his wife were
+contentedly sitting in the old familiar kitchen of the little brown
+house.
+
+"I've been wondering, Reuben," said his wife--"I've been wondering if
+'twouldn't have been just as well if we'd taken some of the good things
+while they was goin'--before we got too old to enjoy 'em."
+
+"Yes--peanuts, for instance," acquiesced her husband ruefully.
+
+
+
+
+In the Footsteps of Katy
+
+
+
+Only Alma had lived--Alma, the last born. The other five, one after
+another, had slipped from loving, clinging arms into the great Silence,
+leaving worse than a silence behind them; and neither Nathan Kelsey nor
+his wife Mary could have told you which hurt the more,--the saying of a
+last good-bye to a stalwart, grown lad of twenty, or the folding of
+tiny, waxen hands over a heart that had not counted a year of beating.
+Yet both had fallen to their lot.
+
+As for Alma--Alma carried in her dainty self all the love, hopes,
+tenderness, ambitions, and prayers that otherwise would have been
+bestowed upon six. And Alma was coming home.
+
+"Mary," said Nathan one June evening, as he and his wife sat on the back
+porch, "I saw Jim Hopkins ter-day. Katy's got home."
+
+"Hm-m,"--the low rocker swayed gently to and fro,--"Katy's been ter
+college, same as Alma, ye know."
+
+"Yes; an'--an' that's what Jim was talkin' 'bout He was feelin'
+bad-powerful bad."
+
+"Bad!"--the rocker stopped abruptly. "Why, Nathan!"
+
+"Yes; he--" There was a pause, then the words came with the rush of
+desperation. "He said home wan't like home no more. That Katy was as
+good as gold, an' they was proud of her; but she was turrible upsettin'.
+Jim has ter rig up nights now ter eat supper--put on his coat an' a
+b'iled collar; an' he says he's got so he don't dast ter open his head.
+They're all so, too--Mis' Hopkins, an' Sue, an' Aunt Jane--don't none of
+'em dast ter speak."
+
+"Why, Nathan!--why not?"
+
+"'Cause of--Katy. Jim says there don't nothin'
+they say suit Katy--'bout its wordin', I mean. She changes it an' tells
+'em what they'd orter said."
+
+"Why, the saucy little baggage!"--the rocker resumed its swaying, and
+Mary Kelsey's foot came down on the porch floor with decided, rhythmic
+pats.
+
+The man stirred restlessly.
+
+"But she ain't sassy, Mary," he demurred. "Jim says Katy's that sweet
+an' pleasant about it that ye can't do nothin'. She tells 'em she's
+kerrectin' 'em fur their own good, an' that they need culturin'. An' Jim
+says she spends all o' meal-time tellin' 'bout the things on the table,
+--salt, an' where folks git it, an' pepper, an' tumblers, an' how folks
+make 'em. He says at first 'twas kind o' nice an' he liked ter hear it;
+but now, seems as if he hain't got no appetite left ev'ry time he sets
+down ter the table. He don't relish eatin' such big words an' queer
+names.
+
+"An' that ain't all," resumed Nathan, after a pause for breath. "Jim
+can't go hoein' nor diggin' but she'll foller him an' tell 'bout the
+bugs an' worms he turns up,--how many legs they've got, an' all that.
+An' the moon ain't jest a moon no more, an' the stars ain't stars.
+They're sp'eres an' planets with heathenish names an' rings an' orbits.
+Jim feels bad--powerful bad--'bout it, an' he says he can't see no way
+out of it. He knows they hain't had much schooling any of 'em, only
+Katy, an' he says that sometimes he 'most wishes that--that she hadn't,
+neither."
+
+Nathan Kelsey's voice had sunk almost to a whisper, and with the last
+words his eyes sent a furtive glance toward the stoop-shouldered little
+figure in the low rocker. The chair was motionless now, and its occupant
+sat picking at a loose thread in the gingham apron.
+
+"I--I wouldn't 'a' spoke of it," stammered the man, with painful
+hesitation, "only--well, ye see, I--you-" he stopped helplessly.
+
+"I know," faltered the little woman. "You was thinkin' of--Alma."
+
+"She wouldn't do it--Alma wouldn't!" retorted the man sharply, almost
+before his wife had ceased speaking.
+
+"No, no, of course not; but--Nathan, ye <i>don't</i> think Alma'd ever
+be--<i>ashamed</i> of us, do ye?"
+
+"'Course not!" asserted Nathan, but his voice shook. "Don't ye worry,
+Mary," he comforted. "Alma ain't a-goin' ter do no kerrectin' of us."
+
+"Nathan, I--I think that's 'co-rectin','" suggested the woman, a little
+breathlessly.
+
+The man turned and gazed at his wife without speaking. Then his jaw
+fell.
+
+"Well, by sugar, Mary! <i>You</i> ain't a-goin' ter begin it, be ye?" he
+demanded.
+
+"Why, no, 'course not!" she laughed confusedly. "An'--an' Alma
+wouldn't."
+
+"'Course Alma wouldn't," echoed her husband. "Come, it's time ter shut
+up the house."
+
+The date of Alma's expected arrival was yet a week ahead.
+
+As the days passed, there came a curious restlessness to the movements
+of both Nathan and his wife. It was on the last night of that week of
+waiting that Mrs. Kelsey spoke.
+
+"Nathan," she began, with forced courage, "I've been over to Mis'
+Hopkins's--an' asked her what special things 'twas that Katy set such
+store by. I thought mebbe if we knew 'em beforehand, an' could do 'em,
+an'--"
+
+"That's jest what I asked Jim ter-day, Mary," cut in Nathan excitedly.
+
+"Nathan, you didn't, now! Oh, I'm so glad! An' we'll do 'em, won't
+we?--jest ter please her?"
+
+"'Course we will!"
+
+"Ye see it's four years since she was here, Nathan, what with her
+teachin' summers."
+
+"Sugar, now! Is it? It hain't seemed so long."
+
+"Nathan," interposed Mrs. Kelsey, anxiously, "I think that 'hain't'
+ain't--I mean <i>aren't</i> right. I think you'd orter say, 'It haven't
+seemed so long.'"
+
+The man frowned, and made an impatient gesture.
+
+"Yes, yes, I know," soothed his wife; "but,--well, we might jest as well
+begin now an' git used to it. Mis' Hopkins said that them two words,
+'hain't an' 'ain't, was what Katy hated most of anythin'."
+
+"Yes; Jim mentioned 'em, too," acknowledged Nathan gloomily. "But he
+said that even them wan't half so bad as his riggin' up nights. He said
+that Katy said that after the 'toil of the day' they must 'don fresh
+garments an' come ter the evenin' meal with minds an' bodies
+refreshed.'"
+
+"Yes; an', Nathan, ain't my black silk--"
+
+"Ahem! I'm a-thinkin' it wa'n't me that said 'ain't' that time,"
+interposed Nathan.
+
+"Dear, dear, Nathan!--did I? Oh, dear, what <i>will</i> Alma say?"
+
+"It don't make no diff'rence what Alma says, Mary. Don't ye fret,"
+returned the man with sudden sharpness, as he rose to his feet. "I guess
+Alma'll have ter take us 'bout as we be--'bout as we be."
+
+Yet it was Nathan who asked, just as his wife was dropping off to sleep
+that night:--
+
+"Mary, is it three o' them collars I've got, or four?--b'iled ones, I
+mean."
+
+At five o'clock the next afternoon Mrs. Kelsey put on the treasured
+black silk dress, sacred for a dozen years to church, weddings, and
+funerals. Nathan, warm and uncomfortable in his Sunday suit and stiff
+collar, had long since driven to the station for Alma. The house,
+brushed and scrubbed into a state of speckless order, was thrown wide
+open to welcome the returning daughter. At a quarter before six she
+came.
+
+"Mother, you darling!" cried a voice, and Mrs. Kelsey found herself in
+the clasp of strong young arms, and gazing into a flushed, eager face.
+"Don't you look good! And doesn't everything look good!" finished the
+girl.
+
+"Does it--I mean, <i>do</i> it?" quavered the little woman excitedly.
+"Oh, Alma, I <i>am</i> glad ter see ye!"
+
+Behind Alma's back Nathan flicked a bit of dust from his coat. The next
+instant he raised a furtive hand and gave his collar and neckband a
+savage pull.
+
+At the supper-table that night ten minutes of eager questioning on the
+part of Alma had gone by before Mrs. Kelsey realized that thus far their
+conversation had been of nothing more important than Nathan's
+rheumatism, her own health, and the welfare of Rover, Tabby, and the
+mare Topsy. Commensurate with the happiness that had been hers during
+those ten minutes came now her remorse. She hastened to make amends.
+
+"There, there, Alma, I beg yer pardon, I'm sure. I hain't--er--I
+<i>haven't</i> meant ter keep ye talkin' on such triflin' things, dear.
+Now talk ter us yer self. Tell us about things--anythin'--anythin' on
+the table or in the room," she finished feverishly.
+
+For a moment the merry-faced girl stared in frank amazement at her
+mother; then she laughed gleefully.
+
+"On the table? In the room?" she retorted. "Well, it's the dearest room
+ever, and looks so good to me! As for the table--the rolls are feathers,
+the coffee is nectar, and the strawberries--well, the strawberries are
+just strawberries--they couldn't be nicer."
+
+"Oh, Alma, but I didn't mean----"
+
+"Tut, tut, tut!" interrupted Alma laughingly. "Just as if the cook
+didn't like her handiwork praised! Why, when I draw a picture--oh, and I
+haven't told you!" she broke off excitedly. The next instant she was on
+her feet. "Alma Mead Kelsey, Illustrator; at your service," she
+announced with a low bow. Then she dropped into her seat again and went
+on speaking.
+
+"You see, I've been doing this sort of thing for some time," she
+explained, "and have had some success in selling. My teacher has always
+encouraged me, and, acting on his advice, I stayed over in New York a
+week with a friend, and took some of my work to the big publishing
+houses. That's why I didn't get here as soon as Kate Hopkins did. I
+hated to put off my coming; but now I'm so glad I did. Only think! I
+sold every single thing, and I have orders and orders ahead."
+
+"Well, by sugar!" ejaculated the man at the head of the table.
+
+"Oh-h-h!" breathed the little woman opposite. "Oh, Alma, I'm so glad!"
+
+In spite of Mrs. Kelsey's protests that night after supper, Alma tripped
+about the kitchen and pantry wiping the dishes and putting them away. At
+dusk father, mother, and daughter seated themselves on the back porch.
+
+"There!" sighed Alma. "Isn't this restful? And isn't that moon
+glorious?"
+
+Mrs. Kelsey shot a quick look at her husband; then she cleared her
+throat nervously.
+
+"Er--yes," she assented. "I--I s'pose you know what it's made of, an'
+how big 'tis, an'--an' what there is on it, don't ye, Alma?"
+
+Alma raised her eyebrows.
+
+"Hm-m; well, there are still a few points that I and the astronomers
+haven't quite settled," she returned, with a whimsical smile.
+
+"An' the stars, they've got names, I s'pose--every one of 'em,"
+proceeded Mrs. Kelsey, so intent on her own part that Alma's reply
+passed unnoticed.
+
+Alma laughed; then she assumed an attitude of mock rapture, and quoted:
+
+  "'Scintillate, scintillate, globule vivific,
+   Fain would I fathom thy nature specific;
+   Loftily poised in ether capacious,
+   Strongly resembling the gem carbonaceous.'"
+
+There was a long silence. Alma's eyes were on the flying clouds.
+
+"Would--would you mind saying that again, Alma?" asked Mrs. Kelsey at
+last timidly.
+
+Alma turned with a start.
+
+"Saying what, dearie?--oh, that nonsensical verse? Of course not! That's
+only another way of saying 'twinkle, twinkle, little star.' Means just
+the same, only uses up a few more letters to make the words. Listen."
+And she repeated the two, line for line.
+
+"Oh!" said her mother faintly. "Er--thank you."
+
+"I--I guess I'll go to bed," announced Nathan Kelsey suddenly.
+
+The next morning Alma's pleadings were in vain. Mrs. Kelsey insisted
+that Alma should go about her sketching, leaving the housework for her
+own hands to perform. With a laughing protest and a playful pout, Alma
+tucked her sketchbook under her arm and left the house to go down by the
+river. In the field she came upon her father.
+
+"Hard at work, dad?" she called affectionately. "Old Mother Earth won't
+yield her increase without just so much labor, will she?"
+
+"That she won't," laughed the man. Then he flushed a quick red and set a
+light foot on a crawling thing of many legs which had emerged from
+beneath an overturned stone.
+
+"Oh!" cried Alma. "Your foot, father--your're crushing something!"
+
+The flush grew deeper.
+
+"Oh, I guess not," rejoined the man, lifting his foot, and giving a
+curiously resigned sigh as he sent an apprehensive glance into the
+girl's face.
+
+"Dear, dear! isn't he funny?" murmured the girl, bending low and giving
+a gentle poke with the pencil in her hand. "Only fancy," she added,
+straightening herself, "only fancy if we had so many feet. Just picture
+the size of our shoe bill!" And she laughed and turned away.
+
+"Well, by gum!" ejaculated the man, looking after her. Then he fell to
+work, and his whistle, as he worked, carried something of the song of a
+bird set free from a cage.
+
+A week passed.
+
+The days were spent by Alma in roaming the woods and fields, pencil and
+paper in hand; they were spent by her mother in the hot kitchen over a
+hotter stove. To Alma's protests and pleadings Mrs. Kelsey was deaf.
+Alma's place was not there, her work was not housework, declared Alma's
+mother.
+
+On Mrs. Kelsey the strain was beginning to tell. It was not the work
+alone--though that was no light matter, owing to her anxiety that Alma's
+pleasure and comfort should find nothing wanting--it was more than the
+work.
+
+Every night at six the anxious little woman, flushed from biscuit-baking
+and chicken-broiling and almost sick with fatigue, got out the black
+silk gown and the white lace collar and put them on with trembling
+hands. Thus robed in state she descended to the supper-table, there to
+confront her husband still more miserable in the stiff collar and black
+coat.
+
+Nor yet was this all. Neither the work nor the black silk dress
+contained for Mrs. Kelsey quite the possibilities of soul torture that
+were to be found in the words that fell from her lips. As the days
+passed, the task the little woman had set for herself became more and
+more hopeless, until she scarcely could bring herself to speak at all,
+so stumbling and halting were her sentences.
+
+At the end of the eighth day came the culmination of it all. Alma, her
+nose sniffing the air, ran into the kitchen that night to find no one in
+the room, and the biscuits burning in the oven. She removed the
+biscuits, threw wide the doors and windows, then hurried upstairs to her
+mother's room.
+
+"Why, mother!"
+
+Mrs. Kelsey stood before the glass, a deep flush on her cheeks and tears
+rolling down her face. Two trembling hands struggled with the lace at
+her throat until the sharp point of a pin found her thumb and left a
+tiny crimson stain on the spotlessness of the collar. It was then that
+Mrs. Kelsey covered her face with her hands and sank into the low chair
+by the bed.
+
+"Why, mother!" cried Alma again, hurrying across the room and dropping
+on her knees at her mother's side.
+
+"I can't, Alma, I can't!" moaned the woman. "I've tried an' tried; but
+I've got ter give up, I've got ter give up."
+
+"Can't what, dearie?--give up what?" demanded Alma.
+
+Mrs. Kelsey shook her head. Then she dropped her hands and looked
+fearfully into her daughter's face.
+
+"An' yer father, too, Alma--he's tried, an' he can't," she choked.
+
+"Tried what? What <i>do</i> you mean?"
+
+With her eyes on Alma's troubled, amazed face, Mrs. Kelsey made one last
+effort to gain her lost position. She raised her shaking hands to her
+throat and fumbled for the pin and the collar.
+
+"There, there, dear, don't fret," she stammered. "I didn't think what I
+was sayin'. It ain't nothin'--I mean, it <i>aren't</i> nothin'--it
+<i>am</i> not--oh-h!" she sobbed; "there, ye see, Alma, I can't, I
+can't. It ain't no more use ter try!" Down went the gray head on Alma's
+strong young shoulder.
+
+"There, there, dear, cry away," comforted Alma, with loving pats. "It
+will do you good; then we'll hear what this is all about, from the very
+beginning."
+
+And Mrs. Kelsey told her--and from the very beginning. When the telling
+was over, and the little woman, a bit breathless and frightened, sat
+awaiting what Alma would say, there came a long silence.
+
+Alma's lips were close shut. Alma was not quite sure, if she opened
+them, whether there would come a laugh or a sob. The laugh was uppermost
+and almost parted the firm-set lips, when a side glance at the quivering
+face of the little woman in the big chair turned the laugh into a
+half-stifled sob. Then Alma spoke.
+
+"Mother, dear, listen. Do you think a silk dress and a stiff collar can
+make you and father any dearer to me? Do you think an 'ain't' or a
+'hain't' can make me love either of you any less? Do you suppose I
+expect you, after fifty years' service for others, to be as careful in
+your ways and words as if you'd spent those fifty years in training
+yourself instead of in training six children? Why, mother, dear, do you
+suppose that I don't know that for twenty of those years you have had no
+thoughts, no prayers, save for me?--that I have been the very apple of
+your eye? Well, it's my turn, now, and you are the apple of my eye--you
+and father. Why, dearie, you have no idea of the plans I have for you.
+There's a good strong woman coming next week for the kitchen work. Oh,
+it's all right," assured Alma, quickly, in response to the look on her
+mother's face. "Why, I'm rich! Only think of those orders! And then you
+shall dress in silk or velvet, or calico--anything you like, so long as
+it doesn't scratch nor prick," she added merrily, bending forward and
+fastening the lace collar. "And you shall----"
+
+"Ma-ry?" It was Nathan at the foot of the back stairway.
+
+"Yes, Nathan."
+
+"Ain't it 'most supper-time?"
+
+"Bless my soul!" cried Mrs. Kelsey, springing to her feet.
+
+"An', Mary----"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Hain't I got a collar--a b'iled one, on the bureau up there?"
+
+"No," called Alma, snatching up the collar and throwing it on the bed.
+"There isn't a sign of one there. Suppose you let it go to-night, dad?"
+
+"Well, if you don't mind!" And a very audible sigh of relief floated up
+the back stairway.
+
+
+
+
+The Bridge Across the Years
+
+
+
+John was expected on the five o'clock stage. Mrs. John had been there
+three days now, and John's father and mother were almost packed up--so
+Mrs. John said. The auction would be to-morrow at nine o'clock, and with
+John there to see that things "hustled"--which last was really
+unnecessary to mention, for John's very presence meant "hustle"--with
+John there, then, the whole thing ought to be over by one o'clock, and
+they off in season to 'catch the afternoon express.
+
+And what a time it had been--those three days!
+
+Mrs. John, resting in the big chair on the front porch, thought of those
+days with complacency--that they were over. Grandpa and Grandma Burton,
+hovering over old treasures in the attic, thought of them with terrified
+dismay--that they had ever begun.
+
+I am coming up on Tuesday [Mrs. John had written]. We have been thinking
+for some time that you and father ought not to be left alone up there on
+the farm any longer. Now don't worry about the packing. I shall bring
+Marie, and you won't have to lift your finger. John will come Thursday
+night, and be there for the auction on Friday. By that time we shall
+have picked out what is worth saving, and everything will be ready for
+him to take matters in hand. I think he has already written to the
+auctioneer, so tell father to give himself no uneasiness on that score.
+
+John says he thinks we can have you back here with us by Friday night,
+or Saturday at the latest. You know John's way, so you may be sure there
+will be no tiresome delay. Your rooms here will be all ready before I
+leave, so that part will be all right.
+
+This may seem a bit sudden to you, but you know we have always told you
+that the time was surely coming when you couldn't live alone any longer.
+John thinks it has come now; and, as I said before, you know John, so,
+after all, you won't be surprised at his going right ahead with things.
+We shall do everything possible to make you comfortable, and I am sure
+you will be very happy here.
+
+Good-bye, then, until Tuesday. With love to both of you.
+
+EDITH.
+
+That had been the beginning. To Grandpa and Grandma Burton it had come
+like a thunderclap on a clear day. They had known, to be sure, that son
+John frowned a little at their lonely life; but that there should come
+this sudden transplanting, this ruthless twisting and tearing up of
+roots that for sixty years had been burrowing deeper and deeper--it was
+almost beyond one's comprehension.
+
+And there was the auction!
+
+"We shan't need that, anyway," Grandma Burton had said at once. "What
+few things we don't want to keep I shall give away. An auction, indeed!
+Pray, what have we to sell?"
+
+"Hm-m! To be sure, to be sure," her husband had murmured; but his face
+was troubled, and later he had said, apologetically: "You see, Hannah,
+there's the farm things. We don't need them."
+
+On Tuesday night Mrs. John and the somewhat awesome Maria--to whom
+Grandpa and Grandma Burton never could learn not to curtsy--arrived; and
+almost at once Grandma Burton discovered that not only "farm things,"
+but such precious treasures as the hair wreath and the parlor--set were
+auctionable. In fact, everything the house contained, except their
+clothing and a few crayon portraits, seemed to be in the same category.
+
+"But, mother, dear," Mrs. John had returned, with a laugh, in response
+to Grandma Burton's horrified remonstrances, "just wait until you see
+your rooms, and how full they are of beautiful things, and then you'll
+understand."
+
+"But they won't be--these," the old voice had quavered.
+
+And Mrs. John had laughed again, and had patted her mother-in-law's
+cheek, and had echoed-but with a different shade of meaning--"No, they
+certainly won't be these!"
+
+In the attic now, on a worn black trunk, sat the little old man, and
+down on the floor before an antiquated cradle knelt his wife.
+
+"They was all rocked in it, Seth," she was saying,--"John and the twins
+and my two little girls; and now there ain't any one left only John--and
+the cradle."
+
+"I know, Hannah, but you ain't <i>usin'</i> that nowadays, so you don't
+really need it," comforted the old man. "But there's my big chair
+now--seems as though we jest oughter take that. Why, there ain't a day
+goes by that I don't set in it!"
+
+"But John's wife says there's better ones there, Seth," soothed the old
+woman in her turn, "as much as four or five of 'em right in our rooms."
+
+"So she did, so she did!" murmured the man. "I'm an ongrateful thing; so
+I be." There was a long pause. The old man drummed with his fingers on
+the trunk and watched a cloud sail across the skylight. The woman gently
+swung the cradle to and fro. "If only they wan't goin' ter be--sold!"
+she choked, after a time. "I like ter know that they're where I can look
+at 'em, an' feel of 'em, an'--an' remember things. Now there's them
+quilts with all my dress pieces in 'em--a piece of most every dress I've
+had since I was a girl; an' there's that hair wreath--seems as if I jest
+couldn't let that go, Seth. Why, there's your hair, an' John's, an' some
+of the twins', an'--"
+
+"There, there, dear; now I jest wouldn't fret," cut in the old man
+quickly. "Like enough when you get used ter them other things on the
+wall you'll like 'em even better than the hair wreath. John's wife says
+she's taken lots of pains an' fixed 'em up with pictures an' curtains
+an' everythin' nice," went on Seth, talking very fast. "Why, Hannah,
+it's you that's bein' ongrateful now, dear!"
+
+"So 'tis, so 'tis, Seth, an' it ain't right an' I know it. I ain't
+a-goin' ter do so no more; now see!" And she bravely turned her back on
+the cradle and walked, head erect, toward the attic stairs.
+
+John came at five o'clock. He engulfed the little old man and the little
+old woman in a bearlike hug, and breezily demanded what they had been
+doing to themselves to make them look so forlorn. In the very next
+breath, however, he answered his own question, and declared it was
+because they had been living all cooped up alone so long--so it was; and
+that it was high time it was stopped, and that he had come to do it!
+Whereupon the old man and the old woman smiled bravely and told each
+other what a good, good son they had, to be sure!
+
+Friday dawned clear, and not too warm--an ideal auction-day. Long before
+nine o'clock the yard was full of teams and the house of people. Among
+them all, however, there was no sign of the bent old man and the erect
+little old woman, the owners of the property to be sold. John and Mrs.
+John were not a little disturbed--they had lost their father and mother.
+
+Nine o'clock came, and with it began the strident call of the
+auctioneer. Men laughed and joked over their bids, and women looked on
+and gossiped, adding a bid of their own now and then. Everywhere was the
+son of the house, and things went through with a rush. Upstairs, in the
+darkest corner of the attic--which had been cleared of goods--sat, hand
+in hand on an old packing-box, a little old man and a little old woman
+who winced and shrank together every time the "Going, going, gone!"
+floated up to them from the yard below.
+
+At half-past one the last wagon rumbled out of the yard, and five
+minutes later Mrs. John gave a relieved cry.
+
+"Oh, there you are! Why, mother, father, where <i>have</i> you been?"
+
+There was no reply. The old man choked back a cough and bent to flick a
+bit of dust from his coat. The old woman turned and crept away, her
+erect little figure looking suddenly bent and old.
+
+"Why, what--" began John, as his father, too, turned away. "Why, Edith,
+you don't suppose--" He stopped with a helpless frown.
+
+"Perfectly natural, my dear, perfectly natural," returned Mrs. John
+lightly. "We'll get them away immediately. It'll be all right when once
+they are started."
+
+Some hours later a very tired old man and a still more tired old woman
+crept into a pair of sumptuous, canopy-topped twin beds. There was only
+one remark.
+
+"Why, Seth, mine ain't feathers a mite! Is yours?"
+
+There was no reply. Tired nature had triumphed--Seth was asleep.
+
+They made a brave fight, those two. They told themselves that the chairs
+were easier, the carpets softer, and the pictures prettier than those
+that had gone under the hammer that day as they sat hand in hand in the
+attic. They assured each other that the unaccustomed richness of window
+and bed hangings and the profusion of strange vases and statuettes did
+not make them afraid to stir lest they soil or break something. They
+insisted to each other that they were not homesick, and that they were
+perfectly satisfied as they were. And yet--
+
+When no one was looking Grandpa Burton tried chair after chair, and
+wondered why there was only one particular chair in the whole world that
+just exactly "fitted;" and when the twilight hour came Grandma Burton
+wondered what she would give to be able just to sit by the old cradle
+and talk with the past.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The newspapers said it was a most marvelous escape for the whole family.
+They gave a detailed account of how the beautiful residence of the
+Honorable John Burton, with all its costly furnishings, had burned to
+the ground, and of how the entire family was saved, making special
+mention of the honorable gentleman's aged father and mother. No one was
+injured, fortunately, and the family had taken up a temporary residence
+in the nearest hotel. It was understood that Mr. Burton would begin
+rebuilding at once.
+
+The newspapers were right--Mr. Burton did begin rebuilding at once; in
+fact, the ashes of the Burton mansion were not cold before John Burton
+began to interview architects and contractors.
+
+"It'll be 'way ahead of the old one," he confided to his wife
+enthusiastically.
+
+Mrs. John sighed.
+
+"I know, dear," she began plaintively; "but, don't you see? it won't be
+the same--it can't be. Why, some of those things we've had ever since we
+were married. They seemed a part of me, John. I was used to them. I had
+grown up with some of them--those candlesticks of mamma's, for instance,
+that she had when I was a bit of a baby. Do you think money can buy
+another pair that--that were <i>hers</i>?" And Mrs. John burst into
+tears.
+
+"Come, come, dear," protested her husband, with a hasty caress and a
+nervous glance at the clock--he was due at the bank in ten minutes.
+"Don't fret about what can't be helped; besides"-and he laughed
+whimsically--"you must look out or you'll be getting as bad as mother
+over her hair wreath!" And with another hasty pat on her shoulder he was
+gone.
+
+Mrs. John suddenly stopped her crying. She lowered her handkerchief and
+stared fixedly at an old print on the wall opposite. The hotel--though
+strictly modern in cuisine and management--was an old one, and prided
+itself on the quaintness of its old-time furnishings. Just what the
+print represented Mrs. John could not have told, though her eyes did not
+swerve from its face for five long minutes. What she did see was a
+silent, dismantled farmhouse, and a little old man and a little old
+woman with drawn faces and dumb lips.
+
+Was it possible? Had she, indeed, been so blind?
+
+Mrs. John rose to her feet, bathed her eyes, straightened her neck-bow,
+and crossed the hall to Grandma Burton's room.
+
+"Well, mother, and how are you getting along?" she asked cheerily.
+
+"Jest as nice as can be, daughter,--and ain't this room pretty?"
+returned the little old woman eagerly. "Do you know, it seems kind of
+natural like; mebbe it's because of that chair there. Seth says it's
+almost like his at home."
+
+It was a good beginning, and Mrs. John made the most of it. Under her
+skillful guidance Grandma Burton, in less than five minutes, had gone
+from the chair to the old clock which her father used to wind, and from
+the clock to the bureau where she kept the dead twins' little white
+shoes and bonnets. She told, too, of the cherished parlor chairs and
+marble-topped table, and of how she and father had saved and saved for
+years to buy them; and even now, as she talked, her voice rang with
+pride of possession--though only for a moment; it shook then with the
+remembrance of loss.
+
+There was no complaint, it is true, no audible longing for lost
+treasures. There was only the unwonted joy of pouring into sympathetic
+ears the story of things loved and lost--things the very mention of
+which brought sweet faint echoes of voices long since silent.
+
+"There, there," broke off the little old woman at last, "how I am
+runnin' on! But, somehow, somethin' set me to talkin' ter-day. Mebbe't
+was that chair that's like yer father's," she hazarded.
+
+"Maybe it was," agreed Mrs. John quietly, as she rose to her feet.
+
+The new house came on apace. In a wonderfully short time John Burton
+began to urge his wife to see about rugs and hangings. It was then that
+Mrs. John called him to one side and said a few hurried but very earnest
+words--words that made the Honorable John open wide his eyes.
+
+"But, Edith," he remonstrated, "are you crazy? It simply couldn't be
+done! The things are scattered over half a dozen townships; besides, I
+haven't the least idea where the auctioneer's list is--if I saved it at
+all."
+
+"Never mind, dear; I may try, surely," begged Mrs. John. And her husband
+laughed and reached for his check-book.
+
+"Try? Of course you may try! And here's this by way of wishing you good
+luck," he finished, as he handed her an oblong bit of paper that would
+go far toward smoothing the most difficult of ways.
+
+"You dear!" cried Mrs. John. "And now I'm going to work."
+
+It was at about this time that Mrs. John went away. The children were at
+college and boarding-school; John was absorbed in business and
+house-building, and Grandpa and Grandma Burton were contented and well
+cared for. There really seemed to be no reason why Mrs. John should not
+go away, if she wished--and she apparently did wish. It was at about
+this time, too, that certain Vermont villages--one of which was the
+Honorable John Burton's birthplace--were stirred to sudden interest and
+action. A persistent, smiling-faced woman had dropped into their
+midst--a woman who drove from house to house, and who, in every case,
+left behind her a sworn ally and friend, pledged to serve her cause.
+
+Little by little, in an unused room in the village hotel there began to
+accumulate a motley collection--a clock, a marble-topped table, a
+cradle, a patchwork quilt, a bureau, a hair wreath, a chair worn with
+age and use. And as this collection grew in size and fame, only that
+family which could not add to it counted itself abused and unfortunate,
+so great was the spell that the persistent, smiling-faced woman had cast
+about her.
+
+Just before the Burton house was finished Mrs. John came back to town.
+She had to hurry a little about the last of the decorations and
+furnishings to make up for lost time; but there came a day when the
+place was pronounced ready for occupancy.
+
+It was then that Mrs. John hurried into Grandpa and Grandma Burton's
+rooms at the hotel.
+
+"Come, dears," she said gayly. "The house is all ready, and we're going
+home."
+
+"Done? So soon?" faltered Grandma Burton, who had not been told very
+much concerning the new home's progress. "Why, how quick they have built
+it!"
+
+There was a note of regret in the tremulous old voice, but Mrs. John did
+not seem to notice. The old man, too, rose from his chair with a long
+sigh--and again Mrs. John did not seem to notice.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Yes, dearie, yes, it's all very nice and fine," said Grandma Burton
+wearily, half an hour later as she trudged through the sumptuous parlors
+and halls of the new house; "but, if you don't mind, I guess I'll go to
+my room, daughter. I'm tired--turrible tired."
+
+Up the stairs and along the hall trailed the little procession--Mrs.
+John, John, the bent old man, and the little old woman. At the end of
+the hall Mrs. John paused a moment, then flung the door wide open.
+
+There was a gasp and a quick step forward; then came the sudden
+illumination of two wrinkled old faces.
+
+"John! Edith!"--it was a cry of mingled joy and wonder.
+
+There was no reply. Mrs. John had closed the door and left them there
+with their treasures.
+
+
+
+
+For Jimmy
+
+
+
+Uncle Zeke's pipe had gone out--sure sign that Uncle Zeke's mind was not
+at rest. For five minutes the old man had occupied in frowning silence
+the other of my veranda rocking-chairs. As I expected, however, I had
+not long to wait.
+
+"I met old Sam Hadley an' his wife in the cemetery just now," he
+observed.
+
+"Yes?" I was careful to express just enough, and not too much, interest:
+one had to be circumspect with Uncle Zeke.
+
+"Hm-m; I was thinkin'--" Uncle Zeke paused, shifted his position, and
+began again. This time I had the whole story.
+
+"I was thinkin'--I don't say that Jimmy did right, an' I don't say that
+Jimmy did wrong. Maybe you can tell. 'Twas like this:
+
+"In a way we all claimed Jimmy Hadley. As a little fellow, he was one of
+them big-eyed, curly-haired chaps that gets inside your heart no matter
+how tough't is. An' we was really fond of him, too,--so fond of him that
+we didn't do nothin' but jine in when his pa an' ma talked as if he was
+the only boy that ever was born, or ever would be--an' you know we must
+have been purty daft ter stood that, us bein' fathers ourselves!
+
+"Well, as was natural, perhaps, the Hadleys jest lived fer Jimmy. They'd
+lost three, an' he was all there was left. They wasn't very well-to-do,
+but nothin' was too grand fer Jimmy, and when the boy begun ter draw
+them little pictures of his all over the shed an' the barn door, they
+was plumb crazy. There wan't no doubt of it--Jimmy was goin' ter be
+famous, they said. He was goin' ter be one o' them painter fellows, an'
+make big money.
+
+"An' Jimmy did work, even then. He stood well in his studies, an' worked
+outside, earnin' money so's he could take drawin' lessons when he got
+bigger. An' by and by he did get bigger, an' he did take lessons down
+ter the Junction twice a week.
+
+"There wan't no livin' with Mis' Hadley then, she was that proud; an'
+when he brought home his first picture, they say she never went ter bed
+at all that night, but jest set gloatin' over it till the sun came in
+an' made her kerosene lamp look as silly as she did when she saw 'twas
+mornin'. There was one thing that plagued her, though: 'twan't
+painted--that picture. Jimmy called it a 'black an' white,' an' said
+'twan't paintin' that he wanted ter do, but 'lustratin'--fer books and
+magazines, you know. She felt hurt, an' all put out at first: but Jimmy
+told her 'twas all right, an' that there was big money in it; so she got
+'round contented again. She couldn't help it, anyhow, with Jimmy, he was
+that lovin' an' nice with her. He was the kind that's always bringin'
+footstools and shawls, an' makin' folks comfortable. Everybody loved
+Jimmy. Even the cats an' dogs rubbed up against him an' wagged their
+tails at sight of him, an' the kids--goodness, Jimmy couldn't cross the
+street without a dozen kids makin' a grand rush fer him.
+
+"Well, time went on, an' Jimmy grew tall an' good lookin'. Then came the
+girl--an' she <i>was</i> a girl, too. 'Course, Jimmy, bein' as how he'd had
+all the frostin' there was goin' on everythin' so fur, carried out the
+same idea in girls, an' picked out the purtiest one he could find--rich
+old Townsend's daughter, Bessie.
+
+"To the Hadleys this seemed all right--Jimmy was merely gettin' the
+best, as usual; but the rest of us, includin' old man Townsend, begun
+ter sit up an' take notice. The old man was mad clean through. He had
+other plans fer Bessie, an' he said so purty plain."
+
+"But it seems there didn't any of us--only Jimmy, maybe--take the girl
+herself into consideration. For a time she was a little skittish, an'
+led Jimmy a purty chase with her dancin' nearer an' nearer, an' then
+flyin' off out of reach. But at last she came out fair an' square fur
+Jimmy, an' they was as lively a pair of lovers as ye'd wish ter see. It
+looked, too, as if she'd even wheedle the old man 'round ter her side of
+thinkin'."
+
+"The next thing we knew Jimmy had gone ter New York. He was ter study,
+an' at the same time pick up what work he could, ter turn an honest
+penny, the Hadleys said. We liked that in him. He was goin' ter make
+somethin' of himself, so's he'd be worthy of Bessie Townsend or any
+other girl."
+
+"But't was hard on the Hadleys. Jimmy's lessons cost a lot, an' so did
+just livin' there in New York, an' 'course Jimmy couldn't pay fer it
+all, though I guess he worked nights an' Sundays ter piece out. Back
+home here the Hadleys scrimped an' scrimped till they didn't have half
+enough ter eat, an' hardly enough ter cover their nakedness. But they
+didn't mind--'t was fer Jimmy. He wrote often, an' told how he was
+workin', an' the girl got letters, too; at least, Mis' Hadley said she
+did. An' once in a while he'd tell of some picture he'd finished, or
+what the teacher said.
+
+"But by an' by the letters didn't come so often. Sam told me about it at
+first, an' he said it plagued his wife a lot. He said she thought maybe
+Jimmy was gettin' discouraged, specially as he didn't seem ter say much
+of anything about his work now. Sam owned up that the letters wan't so
+free talkin'; an' that worried him. He was afraid the boy was keepin'
+back somethin'. He asked me, kind of sheepish-like, if I s'posed such a
+thing could be as that Jimmy had gone wrong, somehow. He knew cities was
+awful wicked an' temptin', he said.
+
+"I laughed him out of that notion quick, an' I was honest in it, too.
+I'd have as soon suspected myself of goin' ter the bad as Jimmy, an' I
+told him so. Things didn't look right, though. The letters got skurser
+an' skurser, an' I began ter think myself maybe somethin' was up. Then
+come the newspaper.
+
+"It was me that took it over to the Hadleys. It was a little notice in
+my weekly, an' I spied it 'way down in the corner just as I thought I
+had the paper all read. 'Twan't so much, but to us 'twas a powerful lot;
+jest a little notice that they was glad ter see that the first prize had
+gone ter the talented young illustrator, James Hadley, an' that he
+deserved it, an' they wished him luck.
+
+"The Hadleys were purty pleased, you'd better believe. They hadn't seen
+it, 'course, as they wan't wastin' no money on weeklies them days. Sam
+set right down an' wrote, an' so did Mis' Hadley, right out of the
+fullness of their hearts. Mis' Hadley give me her letter ter read, she
+was that proud an' excited; an' 't was a good letter, all brimmin' over
+with love an' pride an' joy in his success. I could see just how Jimmy'd
+color up an' choke when he read it, specially where she owned up how
+she'd been gettin' purty near discouraged 'cause they didn't hear much
+from him, an' how she'd rather die than have her Jimmy fail.
+
+"Well, they sent off the letters, an' by an' by come the answer. It was
+kind of shy and stiff-like, an' I think it sort of disappointed 'em; but
+they tried ter throw it off an' say that Jimmy was so modest he didn't
+like ter take praise.
+
+"'Course the whole town was interested, an' proud, too, ter think he
+belonged ter us; an' we couldn't hear half enough about him. But as time
+went on we got worried. Things didn't look right. The Hadleys was still
+scrimpin', still sendin' money when they could, an' they owned up that
+Jimmy's letters wan't real satisfyin' an' that they didn't come often,
+though they always told how hard he was workin'.
+
+"What was queerer still, every now an' then I'd see his name in my
+weekly. I looked fer it, I'll own. I run across it once in the
+'Personals,' an' after that I hunted the paper all through every week.
+He went ter parties an' theaters, an' seemed ter be one of a gay crowd
+that was always havin' good times. I didn't say nothin' ter the Hadleys
+about all this, 'course, but it bothered me lots. What with all these
+fine doin's, an' his not sendin' any money home, it looked as if the old
+folks didn't count much now, an' that his head had got turned sure.
+
+"As time passed, things got worse an' worse. Sam lost two cows, an' Mis'
+Hadley grew thinner an' whiter, an' finally got down sick in her bed.
+Then I wrote. I told Jimmy purty plain how things was an' what I thought
+of him. I told him that there wouldn't be any more money comin' from
+this direction (an' I meant ter see that there wan't, too!), an' I
+hinted that if that 'ere prize brought anythin' but honor, I should
+think 't would be a mighty good plan ter share it with the folks that
+helped him ter win it.
+
+"It was a sharp letter, an' when it was gone I felt 'most sorry I'd sent
+it; an' when the answer come, I <i>was</i> sorry. Jimmy was all broke
+up, an' he showed it. He begged me ter tell him jest how his ma was; an'
+if they needed anythin', ter get it and call on him. He said he wished
+the prize had brought him lots of money, but it hadn't. He enclosed
+twenty-five dollars, however, and said he should write the folks not ter
+send him any more money, as he was goin' ter send it ter them now
+instead.
+
+"Of course I took the letter an' the money right over ter Sam, an' after
+they'd got over frettin' 'cause I'd written at all, they took the money,
+an' I could see it made 'em look ten years younger. After that you
+couldn't come near either of 'em that you didn't hear how good Jimmy was
+an' how he was sendin' home money every week.
+
+"Well, it wan't four months before I had ter write Jimmy again. Sam
+asked me too, this time. Mis' Hadley was sick again, an' Sam was
+worried. He thought Jimmy ought ter come home, but he didn't like ter
+say so himself. He wondered if I wouldn't drop him a hint. So I wrote,
+an' Jimmy wrote right away that he'd come.
+
+"We was all of a twitter, 'course, then--the whole town. He'd got
+another prize--so the paper said--an' there was a paragraph praisin' up
+some pictures of his in the magazine. He was our Jimmy, an' we was proud
+of him, yet we couldn't help wonderin' how he'd act. We wan't used ter
+celebrities--not near to!
+
+"Well, he came. He was taller an' thinner than when he went away, an'
+there was a tired look in his eyes that went straight ter my heart.
+'Most the whole town was out ter meet him, an' that seemed ter bother
+him. He was cordial enough, in a way, but he seemed ter try ter avoid
+folks, an' he asked me right off ter get him 'out of it.' I could see he
+wan't hankerin' ter be made a lion of, so we got away soon's we could
+an' went ter his home.
+
+"You should have seen Mis' Hadley's eyes when she saw him, tall an'
+straight in the doorway. And Sam--Sam cried like a baby, he was so proud
+of that boy. As fer Jimmy, his eyes jest shone, an' the tired look was
+all gone from them when he strode across the room an' dropped on his
+knees at his mother's bedside with a kind of choking cry. I come away
+then, and left them.
+
+"We was kind of divided about Jimmy, after that. We liked him, 'most all
+of us, but we didn't like his ways. He was too stand-offish, an' queer,
+an' we was all mad at the way he treated the girl.
+
+"'Twas given out that the engagement was broken, but we didn't believe
+'t was her done it, 'cause up ter the last minute she'd been runnin'
+down ter the house with posies and goodies. Then <i>he</i> came, an' she
+stopped. He didn't go there, neither, an', so far as we knew, they
+hadn't seen each other once. The whole town was put out. We didn't
+relish seein' her thrown off like an old glove, jest 'cause he was
+somebody out in the world now, an' could have his pick of girls with
+city airs and furbelows. But we couldn't do nothin', 'cause he he
+<i>was</i> good ter his folks, an' no mistake, an' we did like that.
+
+"Mis' Hadley got better in a couple of weeks, an' he begun ter talk of
+goin' back. We wanted ter give him a banquet an' speeches and a
+serenade, but he wouldn't hear a word of it. He wouldn't let us tell him
+how pleased we was at his success, either. The one thing he wouldn't
+talk about was his work, an' some got most mad, he was so modest.
+
+"He hardly ever left the house except fer long walks, and it was on one
+of them that the accident happened. It was in the road right in front of
+the field where I was ploughing, so I saw it all. Bessie Townsend, on
+her little gray mare, came tearin' down the Townsend Hill like mad.
+
+"Jimmy had stopped ter speak ter me, at the fence, but the next minute
+he was off like a shot up the road. He ran an' made a flyin' leap, an' I
+saw the mare rear and plunge. Then beast and man came down together, and
+I saw Bessie slide to the ground, landin' on her feet.
+
+"When I got there Bessie Townsend was sittin' on the ground, with
+Jimmy's head in her arms, which I thought uncommon good of her, seein'
+the mortification he'd caused her. But when I saw the look in her eyes,
+an' in his as he opened them an' gazed up at her, I reckoned there might
+be more ter that love-story than most folks knew. What he said ter her
+then I don't know, but ter me he said jest four words,
+'Don't--tell--the--folks,' an' I didn't rightly understand jest then
+what he meant, for surely an accident like that couldn't be kept
+unbeknownst. The next minute he fell back unconscious.
+
+"It was a bad business all around, an' from the very first there wan't
+no hope. In a week 'twas over, an' we laid poor Jimmy away. Two days
+after the funeral Sam come ter me with a letter. It was addressed ter
+Jimmy, an' the old man couldn't bring himself ter open it. He wanted,
+too, that I should go on ter New York an' get Jimmy's things; an' after
+I had opened the letter I said right off that I'd go. I was mad over
+that letter. It was a bill fer a suit of clothes, an' it asked him purty
+sharplike ter pay it.
+
+"I had some trouble in New York findin' Jimmy's boardin'-place. There
+had been a fire the night before, an' his landlady had had ter move; but
+at last I found her an' asked anxiously fer Jimmy's things, an' if his
+pictures had been hurt.
+
+"Jimmy's landlady was fat an' greasy an' foreign-lookin', an' she didn't
+seem ter understand what I was talkin' about till I repeated a bit
+sharply:--
+
+"'Yes, his pictures. I've come fer 'em.'
+
+"Then she shook her head.
+
+"'Meester Hadley did not have any pictures.'
+
+"'But he must have had 'em,' says I, 'fer them papers an' magazines he
+worked for. He made 'em!'
+
+"She shook her head again; then she gave a queer hitch to her shoulders,
+and a little flourish with her hands.
+
+"'Oh--ze pictures! He did do them--once--a leetle: months ago.'
+
+"'But the prize,' says I. 'The prize ter James Hadley!'
+
+"Then she laughed as if she suddenly understood.
+
+"Oh, but it is ze grand mistake you are makin',' she cried, in her
+silly, outlandish way of talkin'. 'There is a Meester James Hadley, an'
+he does make pictures--beautiful pictures--but it is not this one. This
+Meester Hadley did try, long ago, but he failed to succeed, so my son
+said; an' he had to--to cease. For long time he has worked for me, for
+the grocer, for any one who would pay--till a leetle while ago. Then he
+left. In ze new clothes he had bought, he went away. Ze old
+ones--burned. He had nothing else.'
+
+"She said more, but I didn't even listen. I was back with Jimmy by the
+roadside, and his 'Don't--tell--the--folks' was ringin' in my ears. I
+understood it then, the whole thing from the beginnin'; an' I felt dazed
+an' shocked, as if some one had struck me a blow in the face. I wan't
+brought up ter think lyin' an' deceivin' was right.
+
+"I got up by an' by an' left the house. I paid poor Jimmy's bill fer
+clothes--the clothes that I knew he wore when he stood tall an' straight
+in the doorway ter meet his mother's adorin' eyes. Then I went home.
+
+"I told Sam that Jimmy's things got burned up in the fire--which was the
+truth. I stopped there. Then I went to see the girl--an' right there I
+got the surprise of my life. She knew. He had told her the whole thing
+long before he come home, an' insisted on givin' her up. Jest what he
+meant ter do in the end, an' how he meant ter do it, she didn't know;
+an' she said with a great sob in her voice, that she didn't believe he
+knew either. All he did know, apparently, was that he didn't mean his ma
+should find out an' grieve over it--how he had failed. But whatever he
+was goin' ter do, it was taken quite out of his hands at the last.
+
+"As fer Bessie, now,--it seems as if she can't do enough fer Sam an'
+Mis' Hadley, she's that good ter 'em; an' they set the world by her.
+She's got a sad, proud look to her eyes, but Jimmy's secret is safe.
+
+"As I said, I saw old Sam an' his wife in the cemetery to-night. They
+stopped me as usual, an' told me all over again what a good boy Jimmy
+was, an' how smart he was, an' what a lot he'd made of himself in the
+little time he'd lived. The Hadleys are old an' feeble an' broken, an'
+it's their one comfort--Jimmy's success."
+
+Uncle Zeke paused, and drew a long breath. Then he eyed me almost
+defiantly.
+
+"I ain't sayin' that Jimmy did right, of course; but I ain't
+sayin'--that Jimmy did wrong," he finished.
+
+
+
+
+A Summons Home
+
+
+
+Mrs. Thaddeus Clayton came softly into the room and looked with
+apprehensive eyes upon the little old man in the rocking-chair.
+
+"How be ye, dearie? Yer hain't wanted fer nothin', now, have ye?" she
+asked.
+
+"Not a thing, Harriet," he returned cheerily. "I'm feelin' real pert,
+too. Was there lots there? An' did Parson Drew say a heap o' fine
+things?"
+
+Mrs. Clayton dropped into a chair and pulled listlessly at the black
+strings of her bonnet.
+
+"'T was a beautiful fun'ral, Thaddeus--a beautiful fun'ral. I--I 'most
+wished it was mine."
+
+"Harriet!"
+
+She gave a shamed-faced laugh.
+
+"Well, I did--then Jehiel and Hannah Jane would 'a' come, an' I could
+'a' seen 'em."
+
+The horrified look on the old man's face gave way to a broad smile.
+
+"Oh, Harriet--Harriet!" he chuckled, "how could ye seen 'em if you was
+dead?"
+
+"Huh? Well, I--Thaddeus,"--her voice rose sharply in the silent
+room,--"every single one of them Perkins boys was there, and Annabel,
+too. Only think what poor Mis' Perkins would 'a' given ter seen 'em
+'fore she went! But they waited--<i>waited</i>, Thaddeus, jest as everybody
+does, till their folks is dead."
+
+"But, Harriet," demurred the old man, "surely you'd 'a' had them boys
+come ter their own mother's fun'ral!"
+
+"Come! I'd 'a' had 'em come before, while Ella Perkins could 'a' feasted
+her eyes on 'em. Thaddeus,"--Mrs. Clayton rose to her feet and stretched
+out two gaunt hands longingly,--"Thaddeus, I get so hungry sometimes for
+Jehiel and Hannah Jane, seems as though I jest couldn't stand it!"
+
+"I know--I know, dearie," quavered the old man, vigorously polishing his
+glasses.
+
+"Fifty years ago my first baby came," resumed the woman in tremulous
+tones; "then another came, and another, till I'd had six. I loved 'em,
+an' tended 'em, an' cared fer 'em, an' didn't have a thought but was fer
+them babies. Four died,"--her voice broke, then went on with renewed
+strength,--"but I've got Jehiel and Hannah Jane left; at least, I've got
+two bits of paper that comes mebbe once a month, an' one of 'em's signed
+'your dutiful son, Jehiel,' an' the other, 'from your loving daughter,
+Hannah Jane.'"
+
+"Well, Harriet, they--they're pretty good ter write letters," ventured
+Mr. Clayton.
+
+"Letters!" wailed his wife. "I can't hug an' kiss letters, though I try
+to, sometimes. I want warm flesh an' blood in my arms, Thaddeus; I want
+ter look down into Jehiel's blue eyes an' hear him call me 'dear old
+mumsey!' as he used to. I wouldn't ask 'em ter stay--I ain't
+unreasonable, Thaddeus. I know they can't do that."
+
+"Well, well, wife, mebbe they'll come--mebbe they'll come this summer;
+who knows?"
+
+She shook her head dismally.
+
+"You've said that ev'ry year for the last fifteen summers, an' they
+hain't come yet. Jehiel went West more than twenty years ago, an' he's
+never been home since. Why, Thaddeus, we've got a grandson 'most
+eighteen, that we hain't even seen! Hannah Jane's been home jest once
+since she was married, but that was nigh on ter sixteen years ago. She's
+always writin' of her Tommy and Nellie, but--I want ter see 'em,
+Thaddeus; I want ter see 'em!"
+
+"Yes, yes; well, we'll ask 'em, Harriet, again--we'll ask 'em real
+urgent-like, an' mebbe that'll fetch 'em," comforted the old man.
+"We'll ask 'em ter be here the Fourth; that's eight weeks off yet, an' I
+shall be real smart by then."
+
+Two letters that were certainly "urgent-like" left the New England
+farmhouse the next morning. One was addressed to a thriving Western
+city, the other to Chattanooga, Tennessee.
+
+In course of time the answers came. Hannah Jane's appeared first, and
+was opened with shaking fingers.
+
+<i>Dear Mother</i> [read Mrs. Clayton aloud]: Your letter came two or three
+days ago, and I have hurried round to answer it, for you seemed to be so
+anxious to hear. I'm real sorry, but I don't see how we can get away
+this summer. Nathan is real busy at the store; and, some way, I can't
+seem to get up energy enough to even think of fixing up the children to
+take them so far. Thank you for the invitation, though, and we should
+enjoy the visit very much; but I guess we can't go just yet. Of course
+if anything serious should come up that made it necessary--why, that
+would be different: but I know you are sensible, and will understand how
+it is with us.
+
+Nathan is well, but business has been pretty brisk, and he is in the
+store early and late. As long as he's making money, he don't mind; but I
+tell him I think he might rest a little sometimes, and let some one else
+do the things he does.
+
+Tom is a big boy now, smart in his studies and with a good head for
+figures. Nellie loves her books, too; and, for a little girl of eleven,
+does pretty well, we think.
+
+I must close now. We all send love, and hope you are getting along all
+right. Was glad to hear father was gaining so fast.
+
+Your loving daughter
+
+HANNAH JANE
+
+The letter dropped from Mrs. Clayton's fingers and lay unheeded on the
+floor. The woman covered her face with her hands and rocked her body
+back and forth.
+
+"There, there, dearie," soothed the old man huskily; "mebbe Jehiel's
+will be diff'rent. I shouldn't wonder, now, if Jehiel would come. There,
+there! don't take on so, Harriet! don't! I jest know Jehiel'll come."
+
+A week later Mrs. Clayton found another letter in the rural delivery
+box. She clutched it nervously, peered at the writing with her dim old
+eyes, and hurried into the house for her glasses.
+
+Yes, it was from Jehiel.
+
+She drew a long breath. Her eager thumb was almost under the flap of the
+envelope when she hesitated, eyed the letter uncertainly, and thrust it
+into the pocket of her calico gown. All day it lay there, save at
+times--which, indeed, were of frequent occurrence--when she took it from
+its hiding-place, pressed it to her cheek, or gloried in every curve of
+the boldly written address.
+
+At night, after the lamp was lighted, she said to her husband in tones
+so low he could scarcely hear:
+
+"Thaddeus, I--I had a letter from Jehiel to-day."
+
+"You did--and never told me? Why, Harriet, what--" He paused helplessly.
+
+"I--I haven't read it, Thaddeus," she stammered. "I couldn't bear to,
+someway. I don't know why, but I couldn't. You read it!" She held out
+the letter with shaking hands.
+
+He took it, giving her a sharp glance from anxious eyes. As he began to
+read aloud she checked him.
+
+"No; ter yerself, Thaddeus--ter yerself! Then--tell me."
+
+As he read she watched his face. The light died from her eyes and her
+chin quivered as she saw the stern lines deepen around his mouth. A
+minute more, and he had finished the letter and laid it down without a
+word.
+
+"Thaddeus, ye don't mean--he didn't say--"
+
+"Read it--I--I can't," choked the old man.
+
+She reached slowly for the sheet of paper and spread it on the table
+before her.
+
+<i>Dear Mother</i> [Jehiel had written]: Just a word to tell you we are
+all O. K. and doing finely. Your letter reminded me that it was about
+time I was writing home to the old folks. I don't mean to let so many
+weeks go by without a letter from me, but somehow the time just gets
+away from me before I know it.
+
+Minnie is well and deep in spring sewing and house-cleaning. I
+know--because dressmaker's bills are beginning to come in, and every
+time I go home I find a carpet up in a new place!
+
+Our boy Fred is eighteen to-morrow. You'd be proud of him, I know, if
+you could see him. Business is rushing. Glad to hear you're all right
+and that father's rheumatism is on the gain.
+
+As ever, your affectionate and dutiful son, JEHIEL
+
+Oh, by the way--about that visit East. I reckon we'll have to call it
+off this year. Too bad; but can't seem to see my way clear.
+
+Bye-bye, J.
+
+Harriet Clayton did not cry this time. She stared at the letter long
+minutes with wide-open, tearless eyes, then she slowly folded it and put
+it back in its envelope.
+
+"Harriet, mebbe-" began the old man timidly.
+
+"Don't, Thaddeus--please don't!" she interrupted. "I--I don't want ter
+talk." And she rose unsteadily to her feet and moved toward the kitchen
+door.
+
+For a time Mrs. Clayton went about her work in a silence quite unusual,
+while her husband watched her with troubled eyes. His heart grieved over
+the bowed head and drooping shoulders, and over the blurred eyes that
+were so often surreptitiously wiped on a corner of the gingham apron.
+But at the end of a week the little old woman accosted him with a face
+full of aggressive yet anxious determination.
+
+"Thaddeus, I want ter speak ter you about somethin'. I've been thinkin'
+it all out, an' I've decided that I've got ter kill one of us off."
+
+"Harriet!"
+
+"Well, I have. A fun'ral is the only thing that will fetch Jehiel and--"
+
+"Harriet, are ye gone crazy? Have ye gone clean mad?"
+
+She looked at him appealingly.
+
+"Now, Thaddeus, don't try ter hender me, please. You see it's the only
+way. A fun'ral is the--"
+
+"A 'fun'ral'--it's murder!" he shuddered.
+
+"Oh, not ter make believe, as I shall," she protested eagerly. "It's--"
+
+"Make believe!"
+
+"Why, yes, of course. <i>You'll</i> have ter be the one ter do it,
+'cause I'm goin' ter be the dead one, an'--"
+
+"Harriet!"
+
+"There, there, <i>please</i>, Thaddeus! I've jest got ter see Jehiel and
+Hannah Jane 'fore I die!"
+
+"But--they--they'll come if--"
+
+"No, they won't come. We've tried it over an' over again; you know we
+have. Hannah Jane herself said that if anythin' 'serious' came up it
+would be diff'rent. Well, I'm goin' ter have somethin' 'serious' come
+up!"
+
+"But, Harriet--"
+
+"Now, Thaddeus," begged the woman, almost crying, "you must help me,
+dear. I've thought it all out, an' it's easy as can be. I shan't tell
+any lies, of course. I cut my finger to-day, didn't I?"
+
+"Why--yes--I believe so," he acknowledged dazedly; "but what has that to
+do--"
+
+"That's the 'accident,' Thaddeus. You're ter send two telegrams at
+once--one ter Jehiel, an' one ter Hannah Jane. The telegrams will say:
+'Accident to your mother. Funeral Saturday afternoon. Come at once.'
+That's jest ten words."
+
+The old man gasped. He could not speak.
+
+"Now, that's all true, ain't it?" she asked anxiously. "The 'accident'
+is this cut. The 'fun'ral' is old Mis' Wentworth's. I heard ter-day that
+they couldn't have it until Saturday, so that'll give us plenty of time
+ter get the folks here. I needn't say whose fun'ral it is that's goin'
+ter be on Saturday, Thaddeus! I want yer ter hitch up an' drive over ter
+Hopkinsville ter send the telegrams. The man's new over there, an' won't
+know yer. You couldn't send 'em from here, of course."
+
+Thaddeus Clayton never knew just how he allowed himself to be persuaded
+to take his part in this "crazy scheme," as he termed it, but persuaded
+he certainly was.
+
+It was a miserable time for Thaddeus then. First there was that hurried
+drive to Hopkinsville. Though the day was warm he fairly shivered as he
+handed those two fateful telegrams to the man behind the counter. Then
+there was the homeward trip, during which, like the guilty thing he was,
+he cast furtive glances from side to side.
+
+Even home itself came to be a misery, for the sweeping and the dusting
+and the baking and the brewing which he encountered there left him no
+place to call his own, so that he lost his patience at last and moaned:
+
+"Seems ter me, Harriet, you're a pretty lively corpse!"
+
+His wife smiled, and flushed a little.
+
+"There, there, dear! don't fret. Jest think how glad we'll be ter see
+'em!" she exclaimed.
+
+Harriet was blissfully happy. Both the children had promptly responded
+to the telegrams, and were now on their way. Hannah Jane, with her
+husband and two children, were expected on Friday evening; but Jehiel
+and his wife and boy could not possibly get in until early on the
+following morning.
+
+All this brought scant joy to Thaddeus. There was always hanging over
+him the dread horror of what he had done, and the fearful questioning as
+to how it was all going to end.
+
+Friday came, but a telegram at the last moment told of trains delayed
+and connections missed. Hannah Jane would not reach home until
+nine-forty the next morning. So it was with a four-seated carryall that
+Thaddeus Clayton started for the station on Saturday morning to meet
+both of his children and their families.
+
+The ride home was a silent one; but once inside the house, Jehiel and
+Hannah Jane, amid a storm of sobs and cries, besieged their father with
+questions.
+
+The family were all in the darkened sitting-room--all, indeed, save
+Harriet, who sat in solitary state in the chamber above, her face pale
+and her heart beating almost to suffocation. It had been arranged that
+she was not to be seen until some sort of explanation had been given.
+
+"Father, what was it?" sobbed Hannah Jane. "How did it happen?"
+
+"It must have been so sudden," faltered Jehiel. "It cut me up
+completely."
+
+"I can't ever forgive myself," moaned Hannah Jane hysterically. "She
+wanted us to come East, and I wouldn't. 'Twas my selfishness--'twas
+easier to stay where I was; and now--now--"
+
+"We've been brutes, father," cut in Jehiel, with a shake in his voice;
+"all of us. I never thought--I never dreamed-father, can--can we
+see--her?"
+
+In the chamber above a woman sprang to her feet. Harriet had quite
+forgotten the stove-pipe hole to the room below, and every sob and moan
+and wailing cry had been woefully distinct to her ears. With streaming
+eyes and quivering lips she hurried down the stairs and threw open the
+sitting-room door.
+
+"Jehiel! Hannah Jane! I'm here, right here--alive!" she cried. "An' I've
+been a wicked, wicked woman! I never thought how bad 'twas goin' ter
+make <i>you</i> feel. I truly never, never did. 'Twas only myself--I
+wanted yer so. Oh, children, children, I've been so wicked--so awful
+wicked!"
+
+Jehiel and Hannah Jane were steady of head and strong of heartland joy,
+it is said, never kills; otherwise, the results of that sudden
+apparition in the sitting-room doorway might have been disastrous.
+
+As it was, a wonderfully happy family party gathered around the table an
+hour later; and as Jehiel led a tremulous, gray-haired woman to the seat
+of honor, he looked into her shining eyes and whispered:
+
+"Dear old mumsey, now that we've found the way home again, I reckon
+we'll be coming every year--don't you?"
+
+
+
+
+The Black Silk Gowns
+
+
+
+The Heath twins, Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia, rose early that
+morning, and the world looked very beautiful to them--one does not buy
+a black silk gown every day; at least, Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia
+did not. They had waited, indeed, quite forty years to buy this one.
+
+The women of the Heath family had always possessed a black silk gown. It
+was a sort of outward symbol of inward respectability--an unfailing
+indicator of their proud position as members of one of the old families.
+It might be donned at any time after one's twenty-first birthday, and it
+should be donned always for funerals, church, and calls after one had
+turned thirty. Such had been the code of the Heath family for
+generations, as Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia well knew; and it was
+this that had made all the harder their own fate--that their
+twenty-first birthday was now forty years behind them, and not yet had
+either of them attained this <i>cachet</i> of respectability.
+
+To-day, however, there was to come a change. No longer need the
+carefully sponged and darned black alpaca gowns flaunt their wearers'
+poverty to the world, and no longer would they force these same wearers
+to seek dark corners and sunless rooms, lest the full extent of that
+poverty become known. It had taken forty years of the most rigid economy
+to save the necessary money; but it was saved now, and the dresses were
+to be bought. Long ago there had been enough for one, but neither of the
+women had so much as thought of the possibility of buying one silk gown.
+It was sometimes said in the town that if one of the Heath twins
+strained her eyes, the other one was obliged at once to put on glasses;
+and it is not to be supposed that two sisters whose sympathies were so
+delicately attuned would consent to appear clad one in new silk and the
+other in old alpaca.
+
+In spite of their early rising that morning, it was quite ten o'clock
+before Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia had brought the house into the
+state of speckless nicety that would not shame the lustrous things that
+were so soon to be sheltered beneath its roof. Not that either of the
+ladies expressed this sentiment in words, or even in their thoughts;
+they merely went about their work that morning with the reverent joy
+that a devoted priestess might feel in making ready a shrine for its
+idol. They had to hurry a little to get themselves ready for the eleven
+o'clock stage that passed their door; and they were still a little
+breathless when they boarded the train at the home station for the city
+twenty miles away--the city where were countless yards of shimmering
+silk waiting to be bought.
+
+In the city that night at least six clerks went home with an unusual
+weariness in their arms, which came from lifting down and displaying
+almost their entire stock of black silk. But with all the weariness,
+there was no irritation; there was only in their nostrils a curious
+perfume as of lavender and old lace, and in their hearts a strange
+exaltation as if they had that day been allowed a glad part in a sacred
+rite. As for Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia, they went home awed, yet
+triumphant: when one has waited forty years to make a purchase one does
+not make that purchase lightly.
+
+"To-morrow we will go over to Mis' Snow's and see about having them made
+up," said Miss Priscilla with a sigh of content, as the stage lumbered
+through the dusty home streets.
+
+"Yes; we want them rich, but plain," supplemented Miss Amelia,
+rapturously. "Dear me, Priscilla, but I am tired!"
+
+In spite of their weariness the sisters did not get to bed very early
+that night. They could not decide whether the top drawer of the
+spare-room bureau or the long box in the parlor closet would be the
+safer refuge for their treasure. And when the matter was decided, and
+the sisters had gone to bed, Miss Priscilla, after a prolonged
+discussion, got up and moved the silk to the other place, only to slip
+out of bed later, after a much longer discussion, and put it back. Even
+then they did not sleep well: for the first time in their lives they
+knew the responsibility that comes with possessions; they
+feared--burglars.
+
+With the morning sun, however, came peace and joy. No moth nor rust nor
+thief had appeared, and the lustrous lengths of shimmering silk defied
+the sun itself to find spot or blemish.
+
+"It looks even nicer than it did in the store, don't it?" murmured Miss
+Priscilla, ecstatically, as she hovered over the glistening folds that
+she had draped in riotous luxury across the chair-back.
+
+"Yes,--oh, yes!" breathed Miss Amelia. "Now let's hurry with the work so
+we can go right down to Mis' Snow's."
+
+<i>"Black</i> silk-<i>black</i> silk!" ticked the clock to Miss
+Priscilla washing dishes at the kitchen sink.
+
+"You've got a black <i>silk</i>! You've <i>got</i> a black <i>silk!"</i>
+chirped the robins to Miss Amelia looking for weeds in the garden.
+
+At ten o'clock the sisters left the house, each with a long brown parcel
+carefully borne in her arms. At noon--at noon the sisters were back
+again, still carrying the parcels. Their faces wore a look of mingled
+triumph and defeat.
+
+"As if we <i>could</i> have that beautiful silk put into a
+<i>plaited</i> skirt!" quavered Miss Priscilla, thrusting the key into
+the lock with a trembling hand. "Why, Amelia, plaits always crack!"
+
+"Of course they do!" almost sobbed Miss Amelia. "Only think of it,
+Priscilla, our silk--<i>cracked</i>!"
+
+"We will just wait until the styles change," said Miss Priscilla, with
+an air of finality. "They won't always wear plaits!"
+
+"And we know all the time that we've really got the dresses, only they
+aren't made up!" finished Miss Amelia, in tearful triumph.
+
+So the silk was laid away in two big rolls, and for another year the old
+black alpaca gowns trailed across the town's thresholds and down the
+aisle of the church on Sunday. Their owners no longer sought shadowed
+corners and sunless rooms, however; it was not as if one were
+<i>obliged</i> to wear sponged and darned alpacas!
+
+Plaits were "out" next year, and the Heath sisters were among the first
+to read it in the fashion notes. Once more on a bright spring morning
+Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia left the house tenderly bearing in their
+arms the brown-paper parcels--and once more they returned, the brown
+parcels still in their arms. There was an air of indecision about them
+this time.
+
+"You see, Amelia, it seemed foolish--almost wicked," Miss Priscilla was
+saying, "to put such a lot of that expensive silk into just sleeves."
+
+"I know it," sighed her sister.
+
+"Of course I want the dresses just as much as you do," went on Miss
+Priscilla, more confidently; "but when I thought of allowing Mis' Snow
+to slash into that beautiful silk and just waste it on those great
+balloon sleeves, I--I simply couldn't give my consent!--and 'tisn't as
+though we hadn't <i>got</i> the dresses!"
+
+"No, indeed!" agreed Miss Amelia, lifting her chin. And so once more the
+rolls of black silk were laid away in the great box that had already
+held them a year; and for another twelve months the black alpacas, now
+grown shabby indeed, were worn with all the pride of one whose garments
+are beyond reproach.
+
+When for the third time Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia returned to their
+home with the oblong brown parcels there was no indecision about them;
+there was only righteous scorn.
+
+"And do you really think that Mis' Snow <i>expected</i> us to allow that
+silk to be cut up into those skimpy little skin-tight bags she called
+skirts?" demanded Miss Priscilla, in a shaking voice. "Why, Amelia, we
+couldn't ever make them over!"
+
+"Of course we couldn't! And when skirts got bigger, what could we do?"
+cried Miss Amelia. "Why, I'd rather never have a black silk dress than
+to have one like that--that just couldn't be changed! We'll go on
+wearing the gowns we have. It isn't as if everybody didn't know we had
+these black silk dresses!"
+
+When the fourth spring came the rolls of silk were not even taken from
+their box except to be examined with tender care and replaced in the
+enveloping paper. Miss Priscilla was not well. For weeks she had spent
+most of her waking hours on the sitting-room couch, growing thiner,
+weaker, and more hollow-eyed.
+
+"You see, dear, I--I am not well enough now to wear it," she said
+faintly to her sister one day when they had been talking about the black
+silk gowns; "but you--" Miss Amelia had stopped her with a shocked
+gesture of the hand.
+
+"Priscilla--as if I could!" she sobbed. And there the matter had ended.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The townspeople were grieved, but not surprised, when they learned that
+Miss Amelia was fast following her sister into a decline. It was what
+they had expected of the Heath twins, they said, and they reminded one
+another of the story of the strained eyes and the glasses. Then came the
+day when the little dressmaker's rooms were littered from end to end
+with black silk scraps.
+
+"It's for Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia,'" said Mrs. Snow, with tears
+in her eyes, in answer to the questions that were asked.
+
+"It's their black silk gowns, you know."
+
+"But I thought they were ill--almost dying!" gasped the questioner.
+
+The little dressmaker nodded her head. Then she smiled, even while she
+brushed her eyes with her fingers.
+
+"They are--but they're happy. They're even happy in this!" touching the
+dress in her lap. "They've been forty years buying it, and four making
+it up. Never until now could they decide to use it; never until now
+could they be sure they wouldn't want to--to make it--over." The little
+dressmaker's voice broke, then went on tremulously: "There are folks
+like that, you know--that never enjoy a thing for what it is, lest
+sometime they might want it--different. Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia
+never took the good that was goin'; they've always saved it for
+sometime--later."
+
+
+
+
+A Belated Honeymoon
+
+
+
+The haze of a warm September day hung low over the house, the garden,
+and the dust-white road. On the side veranda a gray-haired, erect little
+figure sat knitting. After a time the needles began to move more and
+more slowly until at last they lay idle in the motionless, withered
+fingers.
+
+"Well, well, Abby, takin' a nap?" demanded a thin-chested, wiry old man
+coming around the corner of the house and seating himself on the veranda
+steps.
+
+The little old woman gave a guilty start and began to knit vigorously.
+
+"Dear me, no, Hezekiah. I was thinkin'." She hesitated a moment, then
+added, a little feverishly: "--it's ever so much cooler here than up ter
+the fair grounds now, ain't it, Hezekiah?"
+
+The old man threw a sharp look at her face. "Hm-m, yes," he said. "Mebbe
+'t is."
+
+From far down the road came the clang of a bell. As by common consent
+the old man and his wife got to their feet and hurried to the front of
+the house where they could best see the trolley-car as it rounded a
+curve and crossed the road at right angles.
+
+"Goes slick, don't it?" murmured the man.
+
+There was no answer. The woman's eyes were hungrily devouring the last
+glimpse of paint and polish.
+
+"An' we hain't been on 'em 't all yet, have we, Abby?" he continued.
+
+She drew a long breath.
+
+"Well, ye see, I--I hain't had time, Hezekiah," she rejoined
+apologetically.
+
+"Humph!" muttered the old man as they turned and walked back to their
+seats.
+
+For a time neither spoke, then Hezekiah Warden cleared his throat
+determinedly and faced his wife.
+
+"Look a' here, Abby," he began, "I'm agoin' ter say somethin' that has
+been 'most tumblin' off'n the end of my tongue fer mor'n a year. Jennie
+an' Frank are good an' kind an' they mean well, but they think 'cause
+our hair's white an' our feet ain't quite so lively as they once was,
+that we're jest as good as buried already, an' that we don't need
+anythin' more excitin' than a nap in the sun. Now, Abby, <i>didn't</i>
+ye want ter go ter that fair with the folks ter-day? Didn't ye?"
+
+A swift flush came into the woman's cheek.
+
+"Why, Hezekiah, it's ever so much cooler here, an'--" she paused
+helplessly.
+
+"Humph!" retorted the man, "I thought as much. It's always 'nice an'
+cool' here in summer an' 'nice an' warm' here in winter when Jennie goes
+somewheres that you want ter go an' don't take ye. An' when 't ain't
+that, you say you 'hain't had time.' I know ye! You'd talk any way ter
+hide their selfishness. Look a' here, Abby, did ye ever ride in them
+'lectric-cars? I mean anywheres?"
+
+"Well, I hain't neither, an', by ginger, I'm agoin' to!"
+
+"Oh, Hezekiah, Hezekiah, don't--swear!"
+
+"I tell ye, Abby, I will swear. It's a swearin' matter. Ever since I
+heard of 'em I wanted ter try 'em. An' here they are now 'most ter my
+own door an' I hain't even been in 'em once. Look a' here, Abby, jest
+because we're 'most eighty ain't no sign we've lost int'rest in things.
+I'm spry as a cricket, an' so be you, yet Frank an' Jennie expect us ter
+stay cooped up here as if we was old--really old, ninety or a hundred,
+ye know--an' 't ain't fair. Why, we <i>will</i> be old one of these
+days!"
+
+"I know it, Hezekiah."
+
+"We couldn't go much when we was younger," he resumed. "Even our weddin'
+trip was chopped right off short 'fore it even begun."
+
+A tender light came into the dim old eyes opposite.
+
+"I know, dear, an' what plans we had!" cried Abigail; "Boston, an'
+Bunker Hill, an' Faneuil Hall."
+
+The old man suddenly squared his shoulders and threw back his head.
+
+"Abby, look a' here! Do ye remember that money I've been savin' off an'
+on when I could git a dollar here an' there that was extra? Well,
+there's as much as ten of 'em now, an' I'm agoin' ter spend 'em--all of
+'em mebbe. I'm <i>agoin'</i> ter ride in them 'lectric-cars, an' so be
+you. An' I ain't goin' ter no old country fair, neither, an' no more be
+you. Look a' here, Abby, the folks are goin' again ter-morrer ter the
+fair, ain't they?"
+
+Abigail nodded mutely. Her eyes were beginning to shine.
+
+"Well," resumed Hezekiah, "when they go we'll be settin' in the sun
+where they say we'd oughter be. But we ain't agoin' ter stay there,
+Abby. We're goin' down the road an' git on them 'lectric-cars, an' when
+we git ter the Junction we're agoin' ter take the steam cars fer Boston.
+What if 'tis thirty miles! I calc'late we're equal to 'em. We'll have
+one good time, an' we won't come home until in the evenin'. We'll see
+Faneuil Hall an' Bunker Hill, an' you shall buy a new cap, an' ride in
+the subway. If there's a preachin' service we'll go ter that. They have
+'em sometimes weekdays, ye know."
+
+"Oh, Hezekiah, we--couldn't!" gasped the little old woman.
+
+"Pooh! 'Course we could. Listen!" And Hezekiah proceeded to unfold his
+plans more in detail.
+
+It was very early the next morning when the household awoke. By seven
+o'clock a two-seated carryall was drawn up to the side-door, and by a
+quarter past the carryall, bearing Jennie, Frank, the boys, and the
+lunch baskets, rumbled out of the yard and on to the highway.
+
+"Now, keep quiet and don't get heated, mother," cautioned Jennie,
+looking back at the little gray-haired woman standing all alone on the
+side veranda.
+
+"Find a good cool spot to smoke your pipe in, father," called Frank, as
+an old man appeared in the doorway.
+
+There followed a shout, a clatter, and a cloud of dust--then silence.
+Fifteen minutes later, hand in hand, a little old man and a little old
+woman walked down the white road together.
+
+To most of the passengers on the trolley-car that day the trip was
+merely a necessary means to an end; to the old couple on the front seat
+it was something to be remembered and lived over all their lives. Even
+at the Junction the spell of unreality was so potent that the man forgot
+things so trivial as tickets, and marched into the car with head erect
+and eyes fixed straight ahead.
+
+It was after Hezekiah had taken out the roll of bills--all ones--to pay
+the fares to the conductor that a young man in a tall hat sauntered down
+the aisle and dropped into the seat in front.
+
+"Going to Boston, I take it," said the young man genially.
+
+"Yes, sir," replied Hezehiah, no less genially. "Ye guessed right the
+first time."
+
+Abigail lifted a cautious hand to her hair and her bonnet. So handsome
+and well-dressed a man would notice the slightest thing awry, she
+thought.
+
+"Hm-m," smiled the stranger. "I was so successful that time, suppose I
+try my luck again.--You don't go every day, I fancy, eh?"
+
+"Sugar! How'd he know that, now?" chuckled Hezekiah, turning to his wife
+in open glee. "So we don't, stranger, so we don't," he added, turning
+back to the man. "Ye hit it plumb right."
+
+"Hm-m! great place, Boston," observed the stranger. "I'm glad you're
+going. I think you'll enjoy it."
+
+The two wrinkled old faces before him fairly beamed.
+
+"I thank ye, sir," said Hezekiah heartily. "I call that mighty kind of
+ye, specially as there are them that thinks we're too old ter be
+enj'yin' of anythin'."
+
+"Old? Of course you're not too old! Why, you're just in the prime to
+enjoy things," cried the handsome man, and in the sunshine of his
+dazzling smile the hearts of the little old man and woman quite melted
+within them.
+
+"Thank ye, sir, thank ye sir," nodded Abigail, while Hezekiah offered
+his hand.
+
+"Shake, stranger, shake! An' I ain't too old, an' I'm agoin' ter prove
+it. I've got money, sir, heaps of it, an' I'm goin' ter spend it--mebbe
+I'll spend it all. We're agoin' ter see Bunker Hill an' Faneuil Hall,
+an' we're agoin' ter ride in the subway. Now, don't tell me we don't
+know how ter enj'y ourselves!"
+
+It was a very simple matter after that. On the one hand were infinite
+tact and skill; on the other, innocence, ignorance, and an overwhelming
+gratitude for this sympathetic companionship.
+
+Long before Boston was reached Mr. and Mrs. Warden and "Mr. Livingstone"
+were on the best of terms, and when they separated at the foot of the
+car-steps, to the old man and woman it seemed that half their joy and
+all their courage went with the smiling man who lifted his hat in
+farewell before being lost to sight in the crowd.
+
+"There, Abby, we're here!" announced Hezekiah with an exultation that
+was a little forced. "Gorry! There must be somethin' goin' on ter-day,"
+he added, as he followed the long line of people down the narrow passage
+between the cars.
+
+There was no reply. Abigail's cheeks were pink and her bonnet-strings
+untied. Her eyes, wide opened and frightened, were fixed on the swaying,
+bobbing crowds ahead. In the great waiting-room she caught her husband's
+arm.
+
+"Hezekiah, we can't, we mustn't ter-day," she whispered. "There's such a
+crowd. Let's go home an' come when it's quieter."
+
+"But, Abby, we--here, let's set down," Hezekiah finished helplessly.
+
+Near one of the outer doors Mr. Livingstone--better known to his friends
+and the police as "Slick Bill"--smiled behind his hand. Not once since
+he had left them had Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Warden been out of his sight.
+
+"What's up, Bill? Need assistance?" demanded a voice at his elbow.
+
+"Jim, by all that's lucky!" cried Livingstone, turning to greet a dapper
+little man in gray. "Sure I need you! It's a peach, though I doubt if we
+get much but fun, but there'll be enough of that to make up. Oh, he's
+got money--'heaps of it,' he says," laughed Livingstone, "and I saw a
+roll of bills myself. But I advise you not to count too much on that,
+though it'll be easy enough to get what there is, all right. As for the
+fun, Jim, look over by that post near the parcel window."
+
+"Great Scott! Where'd you pick 'em?" chuckled the younger man.
+
+"Never mind," returned the other with a shrug. "Meet me at Clyde's in
+half an hour. We'll be there, never fear."
+
+Over by the parcel-room an old man looked about him with anxious eyes.
+
+"But, Abby, don't ye see?" he urged. "We've come so fer, seems as though
+we oughter do the rest all right. Now, you jest set here an' let me go
+an' find out how ter git there. We'll try fer Bunker Hill first, 'cause
+we want ter see the munurmunt sure."
+
+He rose to his feet only to be pulled back by his wife.
+
+"Hezekiah Warden!" she almost sobbed. "If you dare ter stir ten feet
+away from me I'll never furgive ye as long as I live. We'd never find
+each other ag'in!"
+
+"Well, well, Abby," soothed the man with grim humor, "if we never found
+each other ag'in, I don't see as 'twould make much diff'rence whether ye
+furgived me or not!"
+
+For another long minute they silently watched the crowd. Then Hezekiah
+squared his shoulders.
+
+"Come, come, Abby," he said, "this ain't no way ter do. Only think how
+we wanted ter git here an' now we're here an' don't dare ter stir. There
+ain't any less folks than there was--growin' worse, if anythin'--but I'm
+gittin' used ter 'em now, an' I'm goin' ter make a break. Come, what
+would Mr. Livin'stone say if he could see us now? Where'd he think our
+boastin' was about our bein' able ter enj'y ourselves? Come!" And once
+more he rose to his feet.
+
+This time he was not held back. The little woman at his side adjusted
+her bonnet, tilted up her chin, and in her turn rose to her feet.
+
+"Sure enough!" she quavered bravely. "Come, Hezekiah, we'll ask the way
+ter Bunker Hill." And, holding fast to her husband's coat sleeve, she
+tripped across the floor to one of the outer doors.
+
+On the sidewalk Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Warden came once more to a halt.
+Before them swept an endless stream of cars, carriages, and people.
+Above thundered the elevated railway cars.
+
+"Oh-h," shuddered Abigail and tightened her grasp on her husband's coat.
+
+It was some minutes before Hezekiah's dry tongue and lips could frame
+his question, and then his words were so low-spoken and indistinct that
+the first two men he asked did not hear. The third man frowned and
+pointed to a policeman. The fourth snapped: "Take the elevated for
+Charlestown or the trolley-cars, either;" all of which served but to
+puzzle Hezekiah the more.
+
+Little by little the dazed old man and his wife fell back before the
+jostling crowds. They were quite against the side of the building when
+Livingstone spoke to them.
+
+"Well, well, if here aren't my friends again!" he exclaimed cordially.
+
+There was something of the fierceness of a drowning man in the way
+Hezekiah took hold of that hand.
+
+<i>"Mr. Livin'stone!"</i> he cried; then he recollected himself. "We was
+jest goin' ter Bunker Hill," he said jauntily.
+
+"Yes?" smiled Livingstone. "But your luncheon--aren't you hungry? Come
+with me; I was just going to get mine."
+
+"But you--I--" Hezekiah paused and looked doubtingly at his wife.
+
+"Indeed, my dear Mrs. Warden, you'll say 'Yes,' I know," urged
+Livingstone suavely. "Only think how good a nice cup of tea would taste
+now."
+
+"I know, but--" She glanced at her husband.
+
+"Nonsense! Of course you'll come," insisted Livingstone, laying a gently
+compelling hand on the arm of each.
+
+Fifteen minutes later Hezekiah stood looking about him with wondering
+eyes.
+
+"Well, well, Abby, ain't this slick?" he cried.
+
+His wife did not reply. The mirrors, the lights, the gleaming silver and
+glass had filled her with a delight too great for words. She was vaguely
+conscious of her husband, of Mr. Livingstone, and of a smooth-shaven
+little man in gray who was presented as "Mr. Harding." Then she found
+herself seated at that wonderful table, while beside her chair stood an
+awesome being who laid a printed card before her. With a little ecstatic
+sigh she gave Hezekiah her customary signal for the blessing and bowed
+her head.
+
+"There!" exulted Livingstone aloud. "Here we--" He stopped short. From
+his left came a deep-toned, reverent voice invoking the divine blessing
+upon the place, the food, and the new friends who were so kind to
+strangers in a strange land.
+
+"By Jove!" muttered Livingstone under his breath, as his eyes met those
+of Jim across the table. The waiter coughed and turned his back. Then,
+the blessing concluded, Hezekiah raised his head and smiled.
+
+"Well, well, Abby, why don't ye say somethin'?" he asked, breaking the
+silence. "Ye hain't said a word. Mr. Livin'stone'll be thinkin' ye don't
+like it."
+
+Mrs. Warden drew a long breath of delight.
+
+"I can't say anythin', Hezekiah," she faltered. "It's all so beautiful."
+
+Livingstone waited until the dazed old eyes had become in a measure
+accustomed to the surroundings, then he turned a smiling face on
+Hezekiah.
+
+"And now, my friend, what do you propose to do after luncheon?" he
+asked.
+
+"Well, we cal'late ter take in Bunker Hill an' Faneuil Hall sure,"
+returned the old man with a confidence that told of new courage imbibed
+with his tea. "Then we thought mebbe we'd ride in the subway an' hear
+one of the big preachers if they happened ter be holdin' meetin's
+anywheres this week. Mebbe you can tell us, eh?"
+
+Across the table the man called Harding choked over his food and
+Livingstone frowned.
+
+"Well," began Livingstone slowly.
+
+"I think," interrupted Harding, taking a newspaper from his pocket, "I
+think there are services there," he finished gravely, pointing to the
+glaring advertisement of a ten-cent show, as he handed the paper across
+to Livingstone.
+
+"But what time do the exercises begin?" demanded Hezekiah in a troubled
+voice. "Ye see, there's Bunker Hill an'--sugar! Abby, ain't that
+pretty?" he broke off delightedly. Before him stood a slender glass into
+which the waiter was pouring something red and sparkling.
+
+The old lady opposite grew white, then pink. "Of course that ain't wine,
+Mr. Livingstone?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"Give yourself no uneasiness, my dear Mrs. Warden," interposed Harding.
+"It's lemonade--pink lemonade."
+
+"Oh," she returned with a relieved sigh. "I ask yer pardon, I'm sure.
+You wouldn't have it, 'course, no more'n I would. But, ye see, bein'
+pledged so, I didn't want ter make a mistake."
+
+There was an awkward silence, then Harding raised his glass.
+
+"Here's to your health, Mrs. Warden!" he cried gayly. "May your trip----"
+
+"Wait!" she interrupted excitedly, her old eyes alight and her cheeks
+flushed. "Let me tell ye first what this trip is ter us, then ye'll have
+a right ter wish us good luck."
+
+Harding lowered his glass and turned upon her a gravely attentive face.
+
+"'Most fifty years ago we was married, Hezekiah an' me," she began
+softly. "We'd saved, both of us, an' we'd planned a honeymoon trip. We
+was comin' ter Boston. They didn't have any 'lectric-cars then nor any
+steam-cars only half-way. But we was comin' an' we was plannin' on
+Bunker Hill an' Faneuil Hall, an' I don't know what all."
+
+The little lady paused for breath and Harding stirred uneasily in his
+chair. Livingstone did not move. His eyes were fixed on a mirror across
+the room. Over at the sideboard the waiter vigorously wiped a bottle.
+
+"Well, we was married," continued the tremulous voice, "an' not half an
+hour later mother fell down the cellar stairs an' broke her hip. Of
+course that stopped things right short. I took off my weddin' gown an'
+put on my old red caliker an' went ter work. Hezekiah came right there
+an' run the farm an' I nursed mother an' did the work. 'T was more'n a
+year 'fore she was up 'round, an' after that, what with the babies an'
+all, there didn't never seem a chance when Hezekiah an' me could take
+this trip.
+
+"If we went anywhere we couldn't seem ter manage ter go tergether, an'
+we never stayed fer no sight-seein'. Late years my Jennie an' her
+husband seemed ter think we didn't need nothin' but naps an' knittin',
+an' somehow we got so we jest couldn't stand it. We wanted ter go
+somewhere an' see somethin', so."
+
+Mrs. Warden paused, drew a long breath, and resumed. Her voice now had a
+ring of triumph.
+
+"Well, last month they got the 'lectric-cars finished down our way. We
+hadn't been on 'em, neither of us. Jennie an' Frank didn't seem ter want
+us to. They said they was shaky an' noisy an' would tire us all out. But
+yesterday, when the folks was gone, Hezekiah an' me got ter talkin' an'
+thinkin' how all these years we hadn't never had that honeymoon trip,
+an' how by an' by we'd be old--real old, I mean, so's we couldn't take
+it--an' all of a sudden we said we'd take it now, right now. An' we did.
+We left a note fer the children, an'--an' we're here!"
+
+There was a long silence. Over at the sideboard the waiter still
+polished his bottle. Livingstone did not even turn his head. Finally
+Harding raised his glass.
+
+"We'll drink to honeymoon trips in general and to this one in
+particular," he cried, a little constrainedly.
+
+Mrs. Warden flushed, smiled, and reached for her glass. The pink
+lemonade was almost at her lips when Livingstone's arm shot out. Then
+came the tinkle of shattered glass and a crimson stain where the wine
+trailed across the damask.
+
+"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Livingstone, while the other men lowered
+their glasses in surprise. "That was an awkward slip of mine, Mrs.
+Warden. I must have hit your arm."
+
+"But, Bill," muttered Harding under his breath, "you don't mean--"
+
+"But I do," corrected Livingstone quietly, looking straight into
+Harding's amazed eyes.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Warden are my guests. They are going to drive to Bunker
+Hill with me by and by."
+
+When the six o'clock accommodation train pulled out from Boston that
+night it bore a little old man and a little old woman, gray-haired,
+weary, but blissfully content.
+
+"We've seen 'em all, Hezekiah, ev'ry single one of 'em," Abigail was
+saying. "An' wan't Mr. Livingstone good, a-gittin' that carriage an'
+takin' us ev'rywhere; an' it bein' open so all 'round the sides, we
+didn't miss seein' a single thing!"
+
+"He was, Abby, he was, an' he wouldn't let me pay one cent!" cried
+Hezekiah, taking out his roll of bills and patting it lovingly. "But,
+Abby, did ye notice? 'Twas kind o' queer we never got one taste of that
+pink lemonade. The waiter-man took it away."
+
+
+
+
+When Aunt Abby Waked Up
+
+
+
+The room was very still. The gaunt figure on the bed lay motionless save
+for a slight lifting of the chest at long intervals. The face was turned
+toward the wall, leaving a trail of thin gray hair-wisps across the
+pillow. Just outside the door two physicians talked together in low
+tones, with an occasional troubled glance toward the silent figure on
+the bed.
+
+"If there could be something that would rouse her," murmured one;
+"something that would prick her will-power and goad it into action! But
+this lethargy--this wholesale giving up!" he finished with a gesture of
+despair.
+
+"I know," frowned the other; "and I've tried--day after day I've tried.
+But there's nothing. I've exhausted every means in my power. I didn't
+know but you--" He paused questioningly.
+
+The younger man shook his head.
+
+"No," he said. "If you can't, I can't. You've been her physician for
+years. If anyone knows how to reach her, you should know. I suppose
+you've thought of--her son?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Jed was sent for long ago, but he had gone somewhere into the
+interior on a prospecting trip, and was very hard to reach. It is
+doubtful if word gets to him at all until--too late. As you know,
+perhaps, it is rather an unfortunate case. He has not been home for
+years, anyway, and the Nortons--James is Mrs. Darling's nephew--have
+been making all the capital they can out of it, and have been
+prejudicing her against him--quite unjustly, in my opinion, for I think
+it's nothing more nor less than thoughtlessness on the boy's part."
+
+"Hm-m; too bad, too bad!" murmured the other, as he turned and led the
+way to the street door.
+
+Back in the sick-room the old woman still lay motionless on the bed. She
+was wondering--as she had wondered so often before--why it took so long
+to die. For days now she had been trying to die, decently and in order.
+There was really no particular use in living, so far as she could see.
+Ella and Jim were very kind; but, after all, they were not Jed, and Jed
+was away--hopelessly away. He did not even want to come back, so Ella
+and Jim said.
+
+There was the money, too. She did not like to think of the money. It
+seemed to her that every nickel and dime and quarter that she had
+painfully wrested from the cost of keeping soul and body together all
+these past years lay now on her breast with a weight that crushed like
+lead. She had meant that money for Jed. Ella and Jim were kind, of
+course, and she was willing they should have it; yet Jed--but Jed was
+away.
+
+And she was so tired. She had ceased to rouse herself, either for the
+medicine or for the watery broths they forced through her lips. It was
+so hopelessly dragged out--this dying; yet it must be over soon. She had
+heard them tell the neighbors only yesterday that she was unconscious
+and that she did not know a thing of what was passing around her; and
+she had smiled--but only in her mind. Her lips, she knew, had not moved.
+
+They were talking now--Ella and Jim--out in the other room. Their
+voices, even their words, were quite distinct, and dreamily,
+indifferently, she listened.
+
+"You see," said Jim, "as long as I've got ter go ter town ter-morrer,
+anyhow, it seems a pity not ter do it all up at once. I could order the
+coffin an' the undertaker--it's only a question of a few hours, anyway,
+an' it seems such a pity ter make another trip--jest fer that!"
+
+In the bedroom the old woman stirred suddenly. Somewhere, away back
+behind the consciousness of things, something snapped, and sent the
+blood tingling from toes to fingertips. A fierce anger sprang instantly
+into life and brushed the cobwebs of lethargy and indifference from her
+brain. She turned and opened her eyes, fixing them upon the oblong patch
+of light that marked the doorway leading to the room beyond where sat
+Ella and Jim.
+
+"Jest fer that," Jim had said, and "that" was her death. It was not
+worth, it seemed, even an extra trip to town! And she had done so
+much--so much for those two out there!
+
+"Let's see; ter-day's Monday," Jim went on. "We might fix the fun'ral
+for Saturday, I guess, an' I'll tell the folks at the store ter spread
+it. Puttin' it on Sat'day'll give us a leetle extry time if she
+shouldn't happen ter go soon's we expect--though there ain't much fear
+o' that now, I guess, she's so low. An' it'll save me 'most half a day
+ter do it all up this trip. I ain't--what's that?" he broke off sharply.
+
+From the inner room had seemed to come a choking, inarticulate cry.
+
+With a smothered ejaculation Jim picked up the lamp, hurried into the
+sick-room, and tiptoed to the bed. The gaunt figure lay motionless, face
+to the wall, leaving a trail of thin gray hair-wisps across the pillow.
+
+"Gosh!" muttered the man as he turned away.
+
+"There's nothin' doin'-but it did give me a start!"
+
+On the bed the woman smiled grimly--but the man did not see it.
+
+It was snowing hard when Jim got back from town Tuesday night. He came
+blustering into the kitchen with stamping feet and wide-flung arms,
+scattering the powdery whiteness in all directions.
+
+"Whew! It's a reg'lar blizzard," he began, but he stopped short at the
+expression on his wife's face. "Why, Ella!" he cried.
+
+"Jim--Aunt Abby sat up ten minutes in bed ter-day. She called fer toast
+an' tea."
+
+Jim dropped into a chair. His jaw fell open.
+
+"S-sat up!" he stammered.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But she--hang it all, Herrick's comin' ter-morrer with the coffin!"
+
+"Oh, Jim!"
+
+"Well, I can't help it! You know how she was this mornin'," retorted Jim
+sharply. "I thought she <i>was</i> dead once. Why, I 'most had Herrick
+come back with me ter-night, I was so sure."
+
+"I know it," shivered Ella, "but you hadn't been gone an hour 'fore she
+began to stir an' notice things. I found her lookin' at me first, an' it
+give me such a turn I 'most dropped the medicine bottle in my hand. I
+was clearin' off the little table by her bed, an' she was followin' me
+around with them big gray eyes. 'Slickin' up?' she asks after a minute;
+an' I could 'a' dropped right there an' then, 'cause I <i>was</i>
+slickin' up, fer her fun'ral. 'Where's Jim?' she asks then. 'Gone ter
+town,' says I, kind o' faint-like. 'Umph!' she says, an' snaps her lips
+tight shet. After a minute she opens 'em again. 'I think I'll have some
+tea and toast,' she says, casual-like, jest as if she'd been callin' fer
+victuals ev'ry day fer a month past. An' when I brought it, if she
+didn't drag herself up in bed an' call fer a piller to her back, so's
+she could set up. An' there she stayed, pantin' an' gaspin', but
+<i>settin' up</i>--an' she stayed there till the toast an' tea was
+gone."
+
+"Gosh!" groaned Jim. "Who'd 'a' thought it? 'Course 't ain't that I
+grudge the old lady's livin'," he added hurriedly, "but jest now it's
+so--unhandy, things bein' as they be. We can't very well--" He stopped,
+a swift change coming to his face. "Say, Ella," he cried, "mebbe it's
+jest a spurt 'fore--'fore the last. Don't it happen sometimes that
+way--when folks is dyin'?"
+
+"I don't know," shuddered Ella. "Sh-h! I thought I heard her." And she
+hurried across the hall to the sitting-room and the bedroom beyond.
+
+It did not snow much through the night, but in the early morning it
+began again with increased severity. The wind rose, too, and by the time
+Herrick, the undertaker, drove into the yard, the storm had become a
+blizzard.
+
+"I calc'lated if I didn't git this 'ere coffin here purty quick there
+wouldn't be no gettin' it here yet awhile," called Herrick cheerfully,
+as Jim came to the door.
+
+Jim flushed and raised a warning hand.
+
+"Sh-h! Herrick, look out!" he whispered hoarsely. "She ain't dead yet.
+You'll have ter go back."
+
+"Go back!" snorted Herrick. "Why, man alive, 'twas as much as my life's
+worth to get here. There won't be no goin' back yet awhile fer me nor no
+one else, I calc'late. An' the quicker you get this 'ere coffin in out
+of the snow, the better't will be," he went on authoritatively as he
+leaped to the ground.
+
+It was not without talk and a great deal of commotion that the untimely
+addition to James Norton's household effects was finally deposited in
+the darkened parlor; neither was it accomplished without some echo of
+the confusion reaching the sick-room, despite all efforts of
+concealment. Jim, perspiring, red-faced, and palpably nervous, was
+passing on tiptoe through the sitting-room when a quavering voice from
+the bedroom brought him to a halt.
+
+"Jim, is that you?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt Abby."
+
+"Who's come?"
+
+Jim's face grew white, then red.
+
+"C-ome?" he stammered.
+
+"Yes, I heard a sleigh and voices. Who is it?"
+
+"Why, jest-jest a man on--on business," he flung over his shoulder, as
+he fled through the hall.
+
+Not half an hour later came Ella's turn. In accordance with the sick
+woman's orders she had prepared tea, toast, and a boiled egg; but she
+had not set the tray on the bed when the old woman turned upon her two
+keen eyes.
+
+"Who's in the kitchen, Ella, with Jim?"
+
+Ella started guiltily.
+
+"Why, jest a--a man."
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+Ella hesitated; then, knowing that deceit was useless, she stammered out
+the truth.
+
+"Why, er--only Mr. Herrick."
+
+"Not William Herrick, the undertaker!" There was apparently only pleased
+surprise in the old woman's voice.
+
+"Yes," nodded Ella feverishly, "he had business out this way, and--and
+got snowed up," she explained with some haste.
+
+"Ye don't say," murmured the old woman. "Well, ask him in; I'd like ter
+see him."
+
+"Aunt Abby!"--Ella's teeth fairly chattered with dismay.
+
+"Yes, I'd like ter see him," repeated the old woman with cordial
+interest. "Call him in."
+
+And Ella could do nothing but obey.
+
+Herrick, however, did not stay long in the sick-room. The situation was
+uncommon for him, and not without its difficulties. As soon as possible
+he fled to the kitchen, telling Jim that it gave him "the creeps" to
+have her ask him where he'd started for, and if business was good.
+
+All that day it snowed and all that night; nor did the dawn of Friday
+bring clear skies. For hours the wind had swept the snow from roofs and
+hilltops, piling it into great drifts that grew moment by moment deeper
+and more impassable.
+
+In the farmhouse Herrick was still a prisoner.
+
+The sick woman was better. Even Jim knew now that it was no momentary
+flare of the candle before it went out. Mrs. Darling was undeniably
+improving in health. She had sat up several times in bed, and had begun
+to talk of wrappers and slippers. She ate toast, eggs, and jellies, and
+hinted at chicken and beefsteak. She was weak, to be sure, but behind
+her, supporting and encouraging, there seemed to be a curious
+strength--a strength that sent a determined gleam to her eyes, and a
+grim tenseness to her lips.
+
+At noon the sun came out, and the wind died into fitful gusts. The two
+men attacked the drifts with a will, and made a path to the gate. They
+even attempted to break out the road, and Herrick harnessed his horse
+and started for home; but he had not gone ten rods before he was forced
+to turn back.
+
+"'T ain't no use," he grumbled. "I calc'late I'm booked here till the
+crack o' doom!"
+
+"An' ter-morrer's the fun'ral," groaned Jim. "An' I can't git
+nowhere--<i>nowhere</i> ter tell 'em not ter come!"
+
+"Well, it don't look now as if anybody'd come--or go," snapped the
+undertaker.
+
+Saturday dawned fair and cold. Early in the morning the casket was moved
+from the parlor to the attic.
+
+There had been sharp words at the breakfast table, Herrick declaring
+that he had made a sale, and refusing to take the casket back to town;
+hence the move to the attic; but in spite of their caution, the sick
+woman heard the commotion.
+
+"What ye been cartin' upstairs?" she asked in a mildly curious voice.
+
+Ella was ready for her.
+
+"A chair," she explained smoothly; "the one that was broke in the front
+room, ye know." And she did not think it was necessary to add that the
+chair was not all that had been moved. She winced and changed color,
+however, when her aunt observed:
+
+"Humph! Must be you're expectin' company, Ella."
+
+It was almost two o'clock when loud voices and the crunch of heavy teams
+told that the road-breakers had come. All morning the Nortons had been
+hoping against hope that the fateful hour would pass, and the road be
+still left in unbroken whiteness. Someone, however, had known his duty
+too well--and had done it.
+
+"I set ter work first thing on this road," said the man triumphantly to
+Ella as he stood, shovel in hand, at the door. "The parson's right
+behind, an' there's a lot more behind him. Gorry! I was afraid I
+wouldn't git here in time, but the fun'ral wan't till two, was it?"
+
+Ella's dry lips refused to move. She shook her head.
+
+"There's a mistake," she said faintly. "There ain't no fun'ral. Aunt
+Abby's better."
+
+The man stared, then he whistled softly.
+
+"Gorry!" he muttered, as he turned away.
+
+If Jim and Ella had supposed that they could keep their aunt from
+attending her own "funeral"--as Herrick persisted in calling it--they
+soon found their mistake. Mrs. Darling heard the bells of the first
+arrival.
+
+"I guess mebbe I'll git up an' set up a spell," she announced calmly to
+Ella. "I'll have my wrapper an' my slippers, an' I'll set in the big
+chair out in the settin'-room. That's Parson Gerry's voice, an' I want
+ter see him."
+
+"But, Aunt Abby--" began Ella, feverishly.
+
+"Well, I declare, if there ain't another sleigh drivin' in," cried the
+old woman excitedly, sitting up in bed and peering through the little
+window. "Must be they're givin' us a s'prise party. Now hurry, Ella, an'
+git them slippers. I ain't a-goin' to lose none o' the fun!" And Ella,
+nervous, perplexed, and thoroughly frightened, did as she was bid.
+
+In state, in the big rocking-chair, the old woman received her guests.
+She said little, it is true, but she was there; and if she noticed that
+no guest entered the room without a few whispered words from Ella in the
+hall, she made no sign. Neither did she apparently consider it strange
+that ten women and six men should have braved the cold to spend fifteen
+rather embarrassed minutes in her sitting-room--and for this last both
+Ella and Jim were devoutly grateful. They could not help wondering about
+it, however, after she had gone to bed, and the house was still.
+
+"What do ye s'pose she thought?" whispered Jim.
+
+"I don't know," shivered Ella, "but, Jim, wan't it awful?--Mis' Blair
+brought a white wreath--everlastin's!"
+
+One by one the days passed, and Jim and Ella ceased to tremble every
+time the old woman opened her lips. There was still that fearsome thing
+in the attic, but the chance of discovery was small now.
+
+"If she <i>should</i> find out," Ella had said, "'twould be the end of
+the money--fer us."
+
+"But she ain't a-goin' ter find out," Jim had retorted. "She can't last
+long, 'course, an' I guess she won't change the will now--unless some
+one tells her; an' I'll be plaguy careful there don't no one do that!"
+
+The "funeral" was a week old when Mrs. Darling came into the
+sitting-room one day, fully dressed.
+
+"I put on all my clo's," she said smilingly, in answer to Ella's shocked
+exclamation. "I got restless, somehow, an' sick o' wrappers. Besides, I
+wanted to walk around the house a little. I git kind o' tired o' jest
+one room." And she limped across the floor to the hall door.
+
+"But, Aunt Abby, where ye goin' now?" faltered Ella.
+
+"Jest up in the attic. I wanted ter see--" She stopped in apparent
+surprise. Ella and Jim had sprung to their feet.
+
+"The attic!" they gasped.
+
+"Yes, I--"
+
+"But you mustn't!--you ain't strong enough!--you'll fall!--there's
+nothin' there!" they exclaimed wildly, talking both together and
+hurrying forward.
+
+"Oh, I guess 't won't kill me," said the old woman; and something in the
+tone of her voice made them fall back. They were still staring into each
+other's eyes when the hall door closed sharply behind her.
+
+"It's all--up!" breathed Jim.
+
+Fully fifteen minutes passed before the old woman came back. She entered
+the room quietly, and limped across the floor to the chair by the
+window.
+
+"It's real pretty," she said. "I allers did like gray."
+
+"Gray?" stammered Ella.
+
+"Yes!--fer coffins, ye know." Jim made a sudden movement, and started to
+speak; but the old woman raised her hand. "You don't need ter say
+anythin'," she interposed cheerfully. "I jest wanted ter make sure where
+'twas, so I went up. You see, Jed's comin' home, an' I thought he might
+feel--queer if he run on to it, casual-like."
+
+"Jed--comin' home!"
+
+The old woman smiled oddly.
+
+"Oh, I didn't tell ye, did I? The doctor had this telegram yesterday,
+an' brought it over to me. Ye know he was here last night. Read it." And
+she pulled from her pocket a crumpled slip of paper. And Jim read:
+
+Shall be there the 8th. For God's sake don't let me be too late.
+
+J. D. DARLING
+
+
+
+Wristers for Three
+
+
+
+The great chair, sumptuous with satin-damask and soft with springs,
+almost engulfed the tiny figure of the little old lady. To the old lady
+herself it suddenly seemed the very embodiment of the luxurious ease
+against which she was so impotently battling. With a spasmodic movement
+she jerked herself to her feet, and stood there motionless save for the
+wistful sweep of her eyes about the room.
+
+A level ray from the setting sun shot through the window, gilding the
+silver of her hair and deepening the faint pink of her cheek; on the
+opposite wall it threw a sharp silhouette of the alert little
+figure--that figure which even the passage of years had been able to
+bend so very little to its will. For a moment the lace kerchief folded
+across the black gown rose and fell tumultuously; then its wearer
+crossed the room and seated herself with uncompromising discomfort in
+the only straight-backed chair the room contained. This done, Mrs. Nancy
+Wetherby, for the twentieth time, went over in her mind the whole
+matter.
+
+For two weeks, now, she had been a member of her son John's family--two
+vain, unprofitable weeks. When before that had the sunset found her
+night after night with hands limp from a long day of idleness? When
+before that had the sunrise found her morning after morning with a mind
+destitute of worthy aim or helpful plan for the coming twelve hours?
+When, indeed?
+
+Not in her girlhood, not even in her childhood, had there been days of
+such utter uselessness--rag dolls and mud pies need <i>some</i> care! As
+for her married life, there were Eben, the babies, the house, the
+church--and how absolutely necessary she had been to each one!
+
+The babies had quickly grown to stalwart men and sweet-faced women who
+had as quickly left the home nest and built new nests of their own. Eben
+had died; and the church--strange how long and longer still the walk to
+the church had grown each time she had walked it this last year! After
+all, perhaps it did not matter; there were new faces at the church, and
+young, strong hands that did not falter and tremble over these new ways
+of doing things. For a time there had been only the house that needed
+her--but how great that need had been! There were the rooms to care for,
+there was the linen to air, there were the dear treasures of picture and
+toy to cry and laugh over; and outside there were the roses to train and
+the pansies to pick.
+
+Now, even the house was not left. It was October, and son John had told
+her that winter was coming on and she must not remain alone. He had
+brought her to his own great house and placed her in these beautiful
+rooms--indeed, son John was most kind to her! If only she could make
+some return, do something, be of some use!
+
+Her heart failed her as she thought of the grave-faced, preoccupied man
+who came each morning into the room with the question, "Well, mother, is
+there anything you need to-day?" What possible service could <i>she</i>
+render <i>him</i>? Her heart failed her again as she thought of John's
+pretty, new wife, and of the two big boys, men grown, sons of dear dead
+Molly. There was the baby, to be sure; but the baby was always attended
+by one, and maybe two, white-capped, white-aproned young women. Madam
+Wetherby never felt quite sure of herself when with those young women.
+There were other young women, too, in whose presence she felt equally
+ill at ease; young women in still prettier white aprons and still
+daintier white caps; young women who moved noiselessly in and out of the
+halls and parlors and who waited at table each day.
+
+Was there not some spot, some creature, some thing, in all that place
+that needed the touch of her hand, the glance of her eye? Surely the day
+had not quite come when she could be of no use, no service to her kind!
+Her work must be waiting; she had only to find it. She would seek it
+out--and that at once. No more of this slothful waiting for the work to
+come to her! "Indeed, no!" she finished aloud, her dim eyes alight, her
+breath coming short and quick, and her whole frail self quivering with
+courage and excitement.
+
+It was scarcely nine o'clock the next morning when a quaint little
+figure in a huge gingham apron (slyly abstracted from the bottom of a
+trunk) slipped out of the rooms given over to the use of John Wetherby's
+mother. The little figure tripped softly, almost stealthily, along the
+hall and down the wide main staircase. There was some hesitation and
+there were a few false moves before the rear stairway leading to the
+kitchen was gained; and there was a gasp, half triumphant, half
+dismayed, when the kitchen was reached.
+
+The cook stared, open-mouthed, as though confronted with an apparition.
+A maid, hurrying across the room with a loaded tray, almost dropped her
+burden to the floor. There was a dazed moment of silence, then Madam
+Wetherby took a faltering step forward and spoke.
+
+"Good-morning! I--I've come to help you."
+
+"Ma'am!" gasped the cook.
+
+"To help--to help!" nodded the little old lady briskly, with a sudden
+overwhelming joy at the near prospect of the realization of her hopes.
+"Pare apples, beat eggs, or--anything!"
+
+"Indeed, ma'am, I--you--" The cook stopped helplessly, and eyed with
+frightened fascination the little old lady as she crossed to the table
+and picked up a pan of potatoes.
+
+"Now a knife, please,--oh, here's one," continued Madam Wetherby
+happily. "Go right about something else. I'll sit over there in that
+chair, and I'll have these peeled very soon."
+
+When John Wetherby visited his mother's rooms that morning he found no
+one there to greet him. A few sharp inquiries disclosed the little
+lady's whereabouts and sent Margaret Wetherby with flaming cheeks and
+tightening lips into the kitchen.
+
+"Mother!" she cried; and at the word the knife dropped from the
+trembling, withered old fingers and clattered to the floor. "Why,
+mother!"
+
+"I--I was helping," quavered a deprecatory voice.
+
+Something in the appealing eyes sent a softer curve to Margaret
+Wetherby's lips.
+
+"Yes, mother; that was very kind of you," said John's wife gently. "But
+such work is quite too hard for you, and there's no need of your doing
+it. Nora will finish these," she added, lifting the pan of potatoes to
+the table, "and you and I will go upstairs to your room. Perhaps we'll
+go driving by and by. Who knows?"
+
+In thinking it over afterwards Nancy Wetherby could find no fault with
+her daughter-in-law. Margaret had been goodness itself, insisting only
+that such work was not for a moment to be thought of. John's wife was
+indeed kind, acknowledged Madam Wetherby to herself, yet two big tears
+welled to her eyes and were still moist on her cheeks after she had
+fallen asleep.
+
+It was perhaps three days later that John Wetherby's mother climbed the
+long flight of stairs near her sitting-room door, and somewhat timidly
+entered one of the airy, sunlit rooms devoted to Master Philip Wetherby.
+The young woman in attendance respectfully acknowledged her greeting,
+and Madam Wetherby advanced with some show of courage to the middle of
+the room.
+
+"The baby, I--I heard him cry," she faltered.
+
+"Yes, madam," smiled the nurse. "It is Master Philip's nap hour."
+
+Louder and louder swelled the wails from the inner room, yet the nurse
+did not stir save to reach for her thread.
+
+"But he's crying--yet!" gasped Madam Wetherby.
+
+The girl's lips twitched and an expression came to her face which the
+little old lady did not in the least understand.
+
+"Can't you--do something?" demanded baby's grandmother, her voice
+shaking.
+
+"No, madam. I--" began the girl, but she did not finish. The little
+figure before her drew itself to the full extent of its diminutive
+height.
+
+"Well, I can," said Madam Wetherby crisply. Then she turned and hurried
+into the inner room.
+
+The nurse sat mute and motionless until a crooning lullaby and the
+unmistakable tapping of rockers on a bare floor brought her to her feet
+in dismay. With an angry frown she strode across the room, but she
+stopped short at the sight that met her eyes.
+
+In a low chair, her face aglow with the accumulated love of years of
+baby-brooding, sat the little old lady, one knotted, wrinkled finger
+tightly elapsed within a dimpled fist. The cries had dropped to sobbing
+breaths, and the lullaby, feeble and quavering though it was, rose and
+swelled triumphant. The anger fled from the girl's face, and a queer
+choking came to her throat so that her words were faint and broken.
+
+"Madam--I beg pardon--I'm sorry, but I must put Master Philip back on
+his bed."
+
+"But he isn't asleep yet," demurred Madam Wetherby softly, her eyes
+mutinous.
+
+"But you must--I can't--that is, Master Philip cannot be rocked,"
+faltered the girl.
+
+"Nonsense, my dear!" she said; "babies can always be rocked!" And again
+the lullaby rose on the air.
+
+"But, madam," persisted the girl--she was almost crying now--"don't you
+see? I must put Master Philip back. It is Mrs. Wetherby's orders.
+They--they don't rock babies so much now."
+
+For an instant fierce rebellion spoke through flashing eyes, stern-set
+lips, and tightly clutched fingers; then all the light died from the
+thin old face and the tense muscles relaxed.
+
+"You may put the baby back," said Madam Wetherby tremulously, yet with a
+sudden dignity that set the maid to curtsying. "I--I should not want to
+cross my daughter's wishes."
+
+Nancy Wetherby never rocked her grandson again, but for days she haunted
+the nursery, happy if she could but tie the baby's moccasins or hold his
+brush or powder-puff; yet a week had scarcely passed when John's wife
+said to her:
+
+"Mother, dear, I wouldn't tire myself so trotting upstairs each day to
+the nursery. There isn't a bit of need--Mary and Betty can manage quite
+well. You fatigue yourself too much!" And to the old lady's denials
+John's wife returned, with a tinge of sharpness: "But, really, mother,
+I'd rather you didn't. It frets the nurses and--forgive me--but you know
+you <i>will</i> forget and talk to him in 'baby-talk'!"
+
+The days came and the days went, and Nancy Wetherby stayed more and more
+closely to her rooms. She begged one day for the mending-basket, but her
+daughter-in-law laughed and kissed her.
+
+"Tut, tut, mother, dear!" she remonstrated. "As if I'd have you wearing
+your eyes and fingers out mending a paltry pair of socks!"
+
+"Then I--I'll knit new ones!" cried the old lady, with sudden
+inspiration.
+
+"Knit new ones--stockings!" laughed Margaret Wetherby. "Why, dearie,
+they never in this world would wear them--and if they would, I couldn't
+let you do it," she added gently, as she noted the swift clouding of the
+eager face. "Such tiresome work!"
+
+Again the old eyes filled with tears; and yet--John's wife was kind, so
+very kind!
+
+It was a cheerless, gray December morning that John Wetherby came into
+his mother's room and found a sob-shaken little figure in the depths of
+the sumptuous, satin-damask chair. "Mother, mother,--why, mother!"
+There were amazement and real distress in John Wetherby's voice.
+
+"There, there, John, I--I didn't mean to--truly I didn't!" quavered the
+little old lady.
+
+John dropped on one knee and caught the fluttering fingers. "Mother,
+what is it?"
+
+"It--it isn't anything; truly it isn't," urged the tremulous voice.
+
+"Is any one unkind to you?" John's eyes grew stern. "The boys,
+or--Margaret?"
+
+The indignant red mounted to the faded cheek. "John! How can you ask?
+Every one is kind, kind, so very kind to me!"
+
+"Well, then, what is it?"
+
+There was only a sob in reply. "Come, come," he coaxed gently.
+
+For a moment Nancy Wetherby's breath was held suspended, then it came in
+a burst with a rush of words.
+
+"Oh, John, John, I'm so useless, so useless, so dreadfully useless!
+Don't you see? Not a thing, not a person needs me. The kitchen has the
+cook and the maids. The baby has two or three nurses. Not even this room
+needs me--there's a girl to dust it each day. Once I slipped out of bed
+and did it first--I did, John; but she came in, and when I told her, she
+just curtsied and smiled and kept right on, and--she didn't even skip
+<i>one chair</i>! John, dear John, sometimes it seems as though even my
+own self doesn't need me. I--I don't even put on my clothes alone;
+there's always some one to help me!"
+
+"There, there, dear," soothed the man huskily. "I need you, indeed I do,
+mother." And he pressed his lips to one, then the other, of the
+wrinkled, soft-skinned hands.
+
+"You don't--you don't!" choked the woman. "There's not one thing I can
+do for you! Why, John, only think, I sit with idle hands all day, and
+there was so much once for them to do. There was Eben, and the children,
+and the house, and the missionary meetings, and--"
+
+On and on went the sweet old voice, but the man scarcely heard. Only one
+phrase rang over and over in his ears, "There's not one thing I can do
+for you!" All the interests of now--stocks, bonds, railroads--fell from
+his mind and left it blank save for the past. He was a boy again at his
+mother's knee. And what had she done for him then? Surely among all the
+myriad things there must be one that he might single out and ask her to
+do for him now! And yet, as he thought, his heart misgave him.
+
+There were pies baked, clothes made, bumped foreheads bathed, lost
+pencils found; there were--a sudden vision came to him of something warm
+and red and very soft--something over which his boyish heart had
+exulted. The next moment his face lighted with joy very like that of the
+years long ago.
+
+"Mother!" he cried. "I know what you can do for me. I want a pair of
+wristers--red ones, just like those you used to knit!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It must have been a month later that John Wetherby, with his two elder
+sons, turned the first corner that carried him out of sight of his
+house. Very slowly, and with gentle fingers, he pulled off two bright
+red wristers. He folded them, patted them, then tucked them away in an
+inner pocket.
+
+"Bless her dear heart!" he said softly. "You should have seen her eyes
+shine when I put them on this morning!"
+
+"I can imagine it," said one of his sons in a curiously tender voice.
+The other one smiled, and said whimsically, "I can hardly wait for
+mine!" Yet even as he spoke his eyes grew dim with a sudden moisture.
+
+Back at the house John's mother was saying to John's wife: "Did you see
+them on him, Margaret?--John's wristers? They did look so bright and
+pretty! And I'm to make more, too; did you know? Frank and Edward want
+some; John said so. He told them about his, and they wanted some right
+away. Only think, Margaret," she finished, lifting with both hands the
+ball of red worsted and pressing it close to her cheek, "I've got two
+whole pairs to make now!"
+
+
+
+
+The Giving Thanks of Cyrus and Huldah
+
+
+
+For two months Cyrus Gregg and his wife Huldah had not spoken to each
+other, yet all the while they had lived under the same roof, driven to
+church side by side, and attended various festivities and church
+prayer-meetings together.
+
+The cause of the quarrel had been an insignificant something that
+speedily lost itself in the torrent of angry words that burst from the
+lips of the irate husband and wife, until by night it would have been
+difficult for either the man or the woman to tell exactly what had been
+the first point of difference. By that time, however, the quarrel had
+assumed such proportions that it loomed in their lives larger than
+anything else; and each had vowed never to speak to the other until that
+other had made the advance.
+
+On both sides they came of a stubborn race, and from the first it was a
+battle royally fought. The night of the quarrel Cyrus betook himself in
+solitary state to the "spare-room" over the parlor. After that he slept
+on a makeshift bed that he had prepared for himself in the shed-chamber,
+hitherto sacred to trunks, dried corn, and cobwebs.
+
+For a month the two sat opposite to each other and partook of Huldah's
+excellent cooking; then one day the woman found at her plate a piece--of
+brown paper on which had been scrawled:
+
+If I ain't worth speakin' to I ain't worth cookin' for. Hereafter I'll
+take care of myself.
+
+A day later came the retort. Cyrus found it tucked under the
+shed-chamber door.
+
+Huldah's note showed her "schooling." It was well written, carefully
+spelled, and enclosed in a square white envelope.
+
+<i>Sir</i> [it ran stiffly]: I shall be obliged if you do not chop any
+more wood for me. Hereafter I shall use the oil stove. HULDAH PENDLETON
+GREGG.
+
+Cyrus choked, and peered at the name with suddenly blurred eyes: the
+"Huldah Pendleton" was fiercely black and distinct; the "Gregg" was so
+faint it could scarcely be discerned.
+
+"Why, it's 'most like a d'vorce!" he shivered.
+
+If it had not been so pitiful, it would have been ludicrous--what
+followed. Day after day, in one corner of the kitchen, an old man boiled
+his potatoes and fried his unappetizing eggs over a dusty, unblacked
+stove; in the other corner an old woman baked and brewed over a shining
+idol of brass and black enamel--and always the baking and brewing
+carried to the nostrils of the hungry man across the room the aroma of
+some dainty that was a particular favorite of his own.
+
+The man whistled, and the woman hummed--at times; but they did not talk,
+except when some neighbor came in; and then they both talked very loud
+and very fast--to the neighbor. On this one point were Cyrus Gregg and
+his wife Huldah agreed; under no circumstances whatever must any
+gossiping outsider know.
+
+One by one the weeks had passed. It was November now, and very cold.
+Outdoors a dull gray sky and a dull brown earth combined into a dismal
+hopelessness. Indoors the dull monotony of a two-months-old quarrel and
+a growing heartache made a combination that carried even less of cheer.
+
+Huldah never hummed now, and Cyrus seldom whistled; yet neither was one
+whit nearer speaking. Each saw this, and, curiously enough, was pleased.
+In fact, it was just here that, in spite of the heartache, each found an
+odd satisfaction.
+
+"By sugar--but she's a spunky one!" Cyrus would chuckle admiringly, as
+he discovered some new evidence of his wife's shrewdness in obtaining
+what she wanted with yet no spoken word.
+
+"There isn't another man in town who could do it--and stick to it!"
+exulted Huldah proudly, her eyes on her husband's form, bent over his
+egg-frying at the other side of the room.
+
+Not only the cause of the quarrel, but almost the quarrel itself, had
+now long since been forgotten; in fact, to both Cyrus and his wife it
+had come to be a sort of game in which each player watched the other's
+progress with fully as much interest as he did his own. And yet, with it
+all there was the heartache; for the question came to them at times with
+sickening force--just when and how could it possibly end?
+
+It was at about this time that each began to worry about the other.
+Huldah shuddered at the changeless fried eggs and boiled potatoes; and
+Cyrus ordered a heavy storm window for the room where Huldah slept
+alone. Huldah slyly left a new apple pie almost under her husband's nose
+one day, and Cyrus slipped a five-dollar bill beneath his wife's napkin
+ring. When both pie and greenback remained untouched, Huldah cried, and
+Cyrus said, "Gosh darn it!" three times in succession behind the woodshed
+door.
+
+A week before Thanksgiving a letter came from the married daughter, and
+another from the married son. They were good letters, kind and loving;
+and each closed with a suggestion that all go home at Thanksgiving for a
+family reunion.
+
+Huldah read the letters eagerly, but at their close she frowned and
+looked anxious. In a moment she had passed them to Cyrus with a toss of
+her head. Five minutes later Cyrus had flung them back with these words
+trailing across one of the envelopes:
+
+    Write um. Tell um we are sick--dead--gone away--anything! Only
+    don't let um come. A   if <i>we</i> wanted to Thanksgive!
+
+Huldah answered the letters that night. She, too, wrote kindly and
+lovingly; but at the end she said that much as she and father would like
+to see them, it did not seem wise to undertake to entertain such a
+family gathering just now. It would be better to postpone it.
+
+Both Huldah and Cyrus hoped that this would end the subject of
+Thanksgiving; but it did not. The very next day Cyrus encountered
+neighbor Wiley in the village store. Wiley's round red face shone like
+the full moon.
+
+"Well, well, Cy, what ye doin' down your way Thanksgivin'--eh?" he
+queried.
+
+Cyrus stiffened; but before he could answer he discovered that Wiley had
+asked the question, not for information, but as a mere introduction to a
+recital of his own plans.
+
+"We're doin' great things," announced the man. "Sam an' Jennie an' the
+hull kit on 'em's comin' home an' bring all the chicks. Tell ye what,
+Cy, we <i>be</i> a-Thanksgivin' this year! Ain't nothin' like a good old
+fam'ly reunion, when ye come right down to it."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Cyrus gloomily. "But we--we ain't doin' much this
+year."
+
+A day later came Huldah's turn. She had taken some calf's-foot jelly to
+Mrs. Taylor in the little house at the foot of the hill. The Widow
+Taylor was crying.
+
+"You see, it's Thanksgiving!" she sobbed, in answer to Huldah's dismayed
+questions.
+
+"Thanksgiving!"
+
+"Yes. And last year I had--<i>him</i>!"
+
+Huldah sighed, and murmured something comforting, appropriate; but
+almost at once she stopped, for the woman had turned searching eyes upon
+her.
+
+"Huldah Gregg, do you appreciate Cyrus?"
+
+Huldah bridled angrily, but there was no time for a reply, for the woman
+answered her own question, and hurried on wildly.
+
+"No. Did I appreciate my husband? No. Does Sally Clark appreciate her
+husband? No. And there don't none of us do it till he's
+gone--gone--gone!"
+
+As soon as possible Huldah went home. She was not a little disconcerted.
+The "gone--gone--gone" rang unpleasantly in her ears, and before her
+eyes rose a hateful vision of unappetizing fried eggs and boiled
+potatoes. As to her not appreciating Cyrus--that was all nonsense; she
+had always appreciated him, and that, too, far beyond his just deserts,
+she told herself angrily.
+
+There was no escaping Thanksgiving after that for either Huldah or
+Cyrus. It looked from every eager eye, and dropped from every joyous
+lip, until, of all the world Huldah and Cyrus came to regard themselves
+as the most forlorn, and the most abused.
+
+It was then that to Huldah came her great idea; she would cook for Cyrus
+the best Thanksgiving dinner he had ever eaten. Just because he was
+obstinate was no reason why he should starve, she told herself; and very
+gayly she set about carrying out her plans. First the oil stove, with
+the help of a jobman, was removed to the unfinished room over the
+kitchen, for the chief charm of the dinner was to be its secret
+preparation. Then, with the treasured butter-and-egg money the turkey,
+cranberries, nuts, and raisins were bought and smuggled into the house
+and upstairs to the chamber of mystery.
+
+Two days before Thanksgiving Cyrus came home to find a silent and almost
+empty kitchen. His heart skipped a beat and his jaw fell open in
+frightened amazement; then a step on the floor above sent the blood back
+to his face and a new bitterness to his heart.
+
+"So I ain't even good enough ter stay with!" he muttered. "Fool!--fool!"
+he snarled, glaring at the oblong brown paper in his arms. "As if she'd
+care for this--now!" he finished, flinging the parcel into the farthest
+corner of the room.
+
+Unhappy Cyrus! To him, also, had come a great idea. Thanksgiving was not
+Christmas, to be sure, but if he chose to give presents on that day,
+surely it was no one's business but his own, he argued. In the brown
+paper parcel at that moment lay the soft, shimmering folds of yards upon
+yards of black silk--and Huldah had been longing for a new black silk
+gown. Yet it was almost dark when Cyrus stumbled over to the corner,
+picked up the parcel, and carried it ruefully away to the shed-chamber.
+
+Thanksgiving dawned clear and unusually warm. The sun shone, and the air
+felt like spring. The sparrows twittered in the treetops as if the
+branches were green with leaves.
+
+To Cyrus, however, it was a world of gloom. Upstairs Huldah was
+singing--singing!--and it was Thanksgiving. He could hear her feet
+patter, patter on the floor above, and the sound had a cheery
+self-reliance that was maddening. Huldah was happy, evidently--and it
+was Thanksgiving! Twice he had walked resolutely to the back stairs with
+a brown-paper parcel in his arms; and twice a quavering song of triumph
+from the room above had sent him back in defeat. As if she could care
+for a present of his!
+
+Suddenly, now, Cyrus sprang forward in his chair, sniffing the air
+hungrily. Turkey! Huldah was roasting turkey, while he--
+
+The old man dropped back in his seat and turned his eyes disconsolately
+on the ill-kept stove--fried eggs and boiled potatoes are not the most
+toothsome prospect for a Thanksgiving dinner, particularly when one has
+the smell of a New England housewife's turkey in one's nostrils.
+
+For a time Cyrus sat motionless; then he rose to his feet, shuffled out
+of the house, and across the road to the barn.
+
+In the room above the kitchen, at that moment, something happened.
+Perhaps the old hands slipped in their eagerness, or perhaps the old
+eyes judged a distance wrongly. Whatever it was, there came a puff of
+smoke, a sputter, and a flare of light; then red-yellow flames leaped to
+the flimsy shade at the window, and swept on to the century-seasoned
+timbers above.
+
+With a choking cry, Huldah turned and stumbled across the room to the
+stairway. Out at the barn door Cyrus, too, saw the flare of light at the
+window, and he, too, turned with a choking cry.
+
+They met at the foot of the stairway.
+
+"Huldah!"
+
+"Cyrus!"
+
+It was as if one voice had spoken, so exactly were the words
+simultaneous. Then Cyrus cried:
+
+"You ain't hurt?"
+
+"No, no! Quick--the things--we must get them out!"
+
+Obediently Cyrus turned and began to work; and the first thing that his
+arms tenderly bore to safety was an oblong brown-paper parcel.
+
+From all directions then came the neighbors running. The farming
+settlement was miles from a town or a fire-engine. The house was small,
+and stood quite by itself; and there was little, after all, that could
+be done, except to save the household goods and gods. This was soon
+accomplished, and there was nothing to do but to watch the old house
+burn.
+
+Cyrus and Huldah sat hand in hand on an old stone wall, quite apart from
+their sympathetic neighbors, and--talked. And about them was a curious
+air of elation, a buoyancy as if long-pent forces had suddenly found a
+joyous escape.
+
+"'T ain't as if our things wan't all out," cried Cyrus; his voice was
+actually exultant.
+
+"Or as if we hadn't wanted to build a new one for years," chirruped his
+wife.
+
+"Now you can have that 'ere closet under the front stairs, Huldah!"
+
+"And you can have the room for your tools where it'll be warm in the
+winter!"
+
+"An' there'll be the bow-winder out of the settin' room, Huldah!"
+
+"Yes, and a real bathroom, with water coming right out of the wall, same
+as the Wileys have!"
+
+"An' a tub, Huldah--one o' them pretty white chiny ones!"
+
+"Oh, Cyrus, ain't it almost too good to be true!" sighed Huldah: then
+her face changed. "Why, Cyrus, it's gone," she cried with sudden
+sharpness.
+
+"What's gone?"
+
+"Your dinner--I was cooking such a beautiful turkey and all the fixings
+for you."
+
+A dull red came into the man's face.
+
+"For--me?" stammered Cyrus.
+
+"Y-yes," faltered Huldah; then her chin came up defiantly.
+
+The man laughed; and there was a boyish ring to his voice.
+
+"Well, Huldah, I didn't have any turkey, but I did have a tidy little
+piece o' black silk for yer gown, an' I saved it, too. Mebbe we could
+eat that!--eh?"
+
+It was not until just as they were falling asleep that night in Deacon
+Clark's spare bedroom that Mr. and Mrs. Gregg so much as hinted that
+there ever had been a quarrel.
+
+Then, under cover of the dark, Cyrus stammered:
+
+"Huldah, did ye sense it? Them 'ere words we said at the foot of the
+stairs was spoke--exactly--<i>together</i>!"
+
+"Yes, I know, dear," murmured Huldah, with a little break in her voice.
+Then:
+
+"Cyrus, ain't it wonderful--this Thanksgiving, for us?"
+
+Downstairs the Clarks were talking of poor old Mr. and Mrs. Gregg and
+their "sad loss;" but the Clarks did not--know.
+
+
+
+
+A New England Idol
+
+
+
+The Hapgood twins were born in the great square house that set back from
+the road just on the outskirts of Fairtown. Their baby eyes had opened
+upon a world of faded portraits and somber haircloth furniture, and
+their baby hands had eagerly clutched at crystal pendants on brass
+candlesticks gleaming out of the sacred darkness that enveloped the
+parlor mantel.
+
+When older grown they had played dolls in the wonderful attic, and made
+mud pies in the wilderness of a back yard. The garden had been a
+fairyland of delight to their toddling feet, and the apple trees a
+fragrant shelter for their first attempts at housekeeping.
+
+From babyhood to girlhood the charm of the old place grew upon them, so
+much so that the thought of leaving it for homes of their own became
+distasteful to them, and they looked with scant favor upon the
+occasional village youths who sauntered up the path presumably on
+courtship bent.
+
+The Reverend John Hapgood--a man who ruled himself and all about him
+with the iron rod of a rigid old-school orthodoxy--died when the twins
+were twenty; and the frail little woman who, as his wife, had for thirty
+years lived and moved solely because he expected breath and motion of
+her, followed soon in his footsteps. And then the twins were left alone
+in the great square house on the hill.
+
+Miss Tabitha and Miss Rachel were not the only children of the family.
+There had been a son--the first born, and four years their senior. The
+headstrong boy and the iron rule had clashed, and the boy, when sixteen
+years old, had fled, leaving no trace behind him.
+
+If the Reverend John Hapgood grieved for his wayward son the members of
+his household knew it not, save as they might place their own
+constructions on the added sternness to his eyes and the deepening lines
+about his mouth. "Paul," when it designated the graceless runaway, was a
+forbidden word in the family, and even the Epistles in the sacred Book,
+bearing the prohibited name, came to be avoided by the head of the house
+in the daily readings. It was still music in the hearts of the women,
+however, though it never passed their lips; and when the little mother
+lay dying she remembered and spoke of her boy. The habit of years still
+fettered her tongue and kept it from uttering the name.
+
+"If--he--comes--you know--if he comes, be kind--be good," she murmured,
+her breath short and labored. "Don't--punish," she whispered--he was
+yet a lad in her disordered vision. "Don't punish--forgive!"
+
+Years had passed since then--years of peaceful mornings and placid
+afternoons, and Paul had never appeared. Each purpling of the lilacs in
+the spring and reddening of the apples in the fall took on new shades of
+loveliness in the fond eyes of the twins, and every blade of grass and
+tiny shrub became sacred to them.
+
+On the 10th of June, their thirty-fifth birthday, the place never had
+looked so lovely. A small table laid with spotless linen and gleaming
+silver stood beneath the largest apple-tree, a mute witness that the
+ladies were about to celebrate their birthday--the 10th of June being
+the only day that the solemn dignity of the dining-room was deserted for
+the frivolous freedom of the lawn.
+
+Rachel came out of the house and sniffed the air joyfully.
+
+"Delicious!" she murmured. "Somehow, the 10th of June is specially fine
+every year."
+
+In careful, uplifted hands she bore a round frosted cake, always the
+chief treasure of the birthday feast. The cake was covered with the tiny
+colored candies so dear to the heart of a child. Miss Rachel always
+bought those candies at the village store, with the apology:--
+
+"I want them for Tabitha's birthday cake, you know. She thinks so much
+of pretty things."
+
+Tabitha invariably made the cake and iced it, and as she dropped the
+bits of colored sugar into place, she would explain to Huldy, who
+occasionally "helped" in the kitchen:--
+
+"I wouldn't miss the candy for the world--my sister thinks so much of
+it!"
+
+So each deceived herself with this pleasant bit of fiction, and yet had
+what she herself most wanted.
+
+Rachel carefully placed the cake in the center of the table, feasted her
+eyes on its toothsome loveliness, then turned and hurried back to the
+house. The door had scarcely shut behind her when a small, ragged urchin
+darted in at the street gate, snatched the cake, and, at a sudden sound
+from the house, dashed out of sight behind a shrub close by.
+
+The sound that had frightened the boy was the tapping of the heels of
+Miss Tabitha's shoes along the back porch. The lady descended the steps,
+crossed the lawn and placed a saucer of pickles and a plate of dainty
+sandwiches on the table.
+
+"Why, I thought Rachel brought the cake," she said aloud. "It must be in
+the house; there's other things to get, anyway. I'll go back."
+
+Again the click of the door brought the small boy close to the table.
+Filling both hands with sandwiches, he slipped behind the shrub just as
+the ladies came out of the house together. Rachel carried a small tray
+laden with sauce and tarts; Tabitha, one with water and steaming tea. As
+they neared the table each almost dropped her burden.
+
+"Why, where's my cake?"
+
+"And my sandwiches?"
+
+"There's the plate it was on!" Rachel's voice was growing in terror.
+
+"And mine, too!" cried Tabitha, with distended eyes fastened on some
+bits of bread and meat--all that the small brown hands had left.
+
+"It's burglars--robbers!" Rachel looked furtively over her shoulder.
+
+"And all your lovely cake!" almost sobbed Tabitha.
+
+"It--it was yours, too," said the other with a catch in her voice. "Oh,
+dear! What can have happened to it? I never heard of such a thing--right
+in broad daylight!" The sisters had long ago set their trays upon the
+ground and were now wringing their hands helplessly. Suddenly a small
+figure appeared before them holding out four sadly crushed sandwiches
+and half of a crumbling cake.
+
+"I'm sorry--awful sorry! I didn't think--I was so hungry. I'm afraid
+there ain't very much left," he added, with rueful eyes on the
+sandwiches.
+
+"No, I should say not!" vouchsafed Rachel, her voice firm now that the
+size of the "burglar" was declared. Tabitha only gasped.
+
+The small boy placed the food upon the empty plates, and Rachel's lips
+twitched as she saw that he clumsily tried to arrange it in an orderly
+fashion.
+
+"There, ma'am,--that looks pretty good!" he finally announced with some
+pride.
+
+Tabitha made an involuntary gesture of aversion. Rachel laughed
+outright; then her face grew suddenly stern.
+
+"Boy, what do you mean by such actions?" she demanded.
+
+His eyes fell, and his cheeks showed red through the tan.
+
+"I was hungry."
+
+"But didn't you know it was stealing?" she asked, her face softening.
+
+"I didn't stop to think--it looked so good I couldn't help takin' it."
+He dug his bare toes in the grass for a moment in silence, then he
+raised his head with a jerk and stood squarely on both feet. "I hain't
+got any money, but I'll work to pay for it--bringin' wood in, or
+somethin'."
+
+"The dear child!" murmured two voices softly.
+
+"I've got to find my folks, sometime, but I'll do the work first. Mebbe
+an hour'll pay for it--'most!"--He looked hopefully into Miss Rachel's
+face.
+
+"Who are your folks?" she asked huskily.
+
+By way of answer he handed out a soiled, crumpled envelope for her
+inspection on which was written, "Reverend John Hapgood."
+
+"Why--it's father!"
+
+"What!" exclaimed Tabitha.
+
+Her sister tore the note open with shaking fingers.
+
+"It's from--Paul!" she breathed, hesitating a conscientious moment over
+the name. Then she turned her startled eyes on the boy, who was
+regarding her with lively interest.
+
+"Do I belong to you?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"I--I don't know. Who are you--what's your name?"
+
+"Ralph Hapgood."
+
+Tabitha had caught up the note and was devouring it with swift-moving
+eyes.
+
+"It's Paul's boy, Rachel," she broke in, "only think of it--Paul's boy!"
+and she dropped the bit of paper and enveloped the lad in a fond but
+tearful embrace.
+
+He squirmed uneasily.
+
+"I'm sorry I eat up my own folks's things. I'll go to work any time,"
+he suggested, trying to draw away, and wiping a tear splash from the
+back of his hand on his trousers.
+
+But it was long hours before Ralph Hapgood was allowed to "go to work."
+Tears, kisses, embraces, questions, a bath, and clean clothes followed
+each other in quick succession--the clothes being some of his own
+father's boyhood garments.
+
+His story was quickly told. His mother was long since dead, and his
+father had written on his dying bed the letter that commended the
+boy--so soon to be orphaned--to the pity and care of his grandparents.
+The sisters trembled and changed color at the story of the boy's
+hardships on the way to Fairtown; and they plied him with questions and
+sandwiches in about equal proportions after he told of the frequent
+dinnerless days and supperless nights of the journey.
+
+That evening when the boy was safe in bed--clean, full-stomached, and
+sleepily content the sisters talked it over. The Reverend John Hapgood,
+in his will, had cut off his recreant son with the proverbial shilling,
+so, by law, there was little coming to Ralph. This, however, the sisters
+overlooked in calm disdain.
+
+"We must keep him, anyhow," said Rachel with decision.
+
+"Yes, indeed,--the dear child!"
+
+"He's twelve, for all he's so small, but he hasn't had much schooling.
+We must see to that--we want him well educated," continued Rachel, a
+pink spot showing in either cheek.
+
+"Indeed we do--we'll send him to college! I wonder, now, wouldn't he
+like to be a doctor?"
+
+"Perhaps," admitted the other cautiously, "or a minister."
+
+"Sure enough--he might like that better; I'm going to ask him!" and she
+sprang to her feet and tripped across the room to the parlor-bedroom
+door. "Ralph," she called softly, after turning the knob, "are you
+asleep?"
+
+"Huh? N-no, ma'am." The voice nearly gave the lie to the words.
+
+"Well, dear, we were wondering--would you rather be a minister or a
+doctor?" she asked, much as though she were offering for choice a peach
+and a pear.
+
+"A doctor!" came emphatically from out of the dark--there was no sleep
+in the voice now. "I've always wanted to be a doctor."
+
+"You shall, oh, you shall!" promised the woman ecstatically, going back
+to her sister; and from that time all their lives were ordered with that
+one end in view.
+
+The Hapgood twins were far from wealthy. They owned the homestead, but
+their income was small, and the added mouth to fill--and that a hungry
+one--counted. As the years passed, Huldy came less and less frequently
+to help in the kitchen, and the sisters' gowns grew more and more rusty
+and darned.
+
+Ralph, boylike, noticed nothing--indeed, half the year he was away at
+school; but as the time drew near for the college course and its
+attendant expenses, the sisters were sadly troubled.
+
+"We might sell," suggested Tabitha, a little choke in her voice.
+
+Rachel started.
+
+"Why, sister!--sell? Oh, no, we couldn't do that!" she shuddered.
+
+"But what can we do?"
+
+"Do?--why lots of things!" Rachel's lips came together with a snap.
+"It's coming berry time, and there's our chickens, and the garden did
+beautifully last year. Then there's your lace work and my knitting--they
+bring something. Sell? Oh--we couldn't do that!" And she abruptly left
+the room and went out into the yard. There she lovingly trained a
+wayward vine with new shoots going wrong, and gloated over the
+rosebushes heavy with crimson buds.
+
+But as the days and weeks flew by and September drew the nearer,
+Rachel's courage failed her. Berries had been scarce, the chickens had
+died, the garden had suffered from drought, and but for their lace and
+knitting work, their income would have dwindled to a pitiful sum
+indeed. Ralph had been gone all summer; he had asked to go camping and
+fishing with some of his school friends. He was expected home a week
+before the college opened, however.
+
+Tabitha grew more and more restless every day. Finally she spoke.
+
+"Rachel, we'll have to sell--there isn't any other way. It would bring a
+lot," she continued hurriedly, before her sister could speak, "and we
+could find some pretty rooms somewhere. It wouldn't be so very
+dreadful!"
+
+"Don't, Tabitha! Seems as though I couldn't bear even to speak of it.
+Sell?--oh, Tabitha!" Then her voice changed from a piteous appeal to one
+of forced conviction.
+
+"We couldn't get anywhere near what it's worth, Tabitha, anyway. No one
+here wants it or can afford to buy it for what it ought to bring. It is
+really absurd to think of it. Of course, if I had an offer--a good big
+one--that would be quite another thing; but there's no hope of that."
+
+Rachel's lips said "hope," but her heart said "danger," and the latter
+was what she really meant. She did not know that but two hours before, a
+stranger had said to a Fairtown lawyer:
+
+"I want a summer home in this locality. You don't happen to know of a
+good old treasure of a homestead for sale, do you?"
+
+"I do not," replied the lawyer. "There's a place on the edge of the
+village that would be just the ticket, but I don't suppose it could be
+bought for love nor money."
+
+"Where is it?" asked the man eagerly. "You never know what money can
+do--to say nothing of love--till you try."
+
+The lawyer chuckled softly.
+
+"It's the Hapgood place. I'll drive you over to-morrow. It's owned by
+two old maids, and they worship every stick and stone and blade of grass
+that belongs to it. However, I happen to know that cash is rather scarce
+with them--and there's ample chance for love, if the money fails," he
+added, with a twitching of his lips.
+
+When the two men drove into the yard that August morning, the Hapgood
+twins were picking nasturtiums, and the flaming yellows and scarlets
+lighted up their somber gowns, and made patches of brilliant color
+against the gray of the house.
+
+"By Jove, it's a picture!" exclaimed the would-be purchaser.
+
+The lawyer smiled and sprang to the ground. Introductions swiftly
+followed, then he cleared his throat in some embarrassment.
+
+"Ahem! I've brought Mr. Hazelton up here, ladies, because he was
+interested in your beautiful place."
+
+Miss Rachel smiled--the smile of proud possession; then something within
+her seemed to tighten, and she caught her breath sharply.
+
+"It is fine!" murmured Hazelton; "and the view is grand!" he continued,
+his eyes on the distant hills. Then he turned abruptly. "Ladies, I
+believe in coming straight to the point. I want a summer home, and--I
+want this one. Can I tempt you to part with it?"
+
+"Indeed, no!" began Rachel almost fiercely. Then her voice sank to a
+whisper; "I--I don't think you could."
+
+"But, sister," interposed Tabitha, her face alight, "you know you
+said--that is, there are circumstances--perhaps he would--p-pay
+enough--" Her voice stumbled over the hated word, then stopped, while
+her face burned scarlet.
+
+"Pay!--no human mortal could pay for this house!" flashed Rachel
+indignantly. Then she turned to Hazelton, her slight form drawn to its
+greatest height, and her hands crushing the flowers, she held till the
+brittle stems snapped, releasing a fluttering shower of scarlet and
+gold. "Mr. Hazelton, to carry out certain wishes very near to our
+hearts, we need money. We will show you the place, and--and we will
+consider your offer," she finished faintly. It was a dreary journey the
+sisters took that morning, though the garden never had seemed lovelier,
+nor the rooms more sacredly beautiful. In the end, Hazelton's offer was
+so fabulously enormous to their unwilling ears that their conscience
+forbade them to refuse it.
+
+"I'll have the necessary papers ready to sign in a few days," said the
+lawyer as the two gentlemen turned to go. And Hazelton added: "If at any
+time before that you change your minds and find you cannot give it
+up--just let me know and it will be all right. Just think it over till
+then," he said kindly, the dumb woe in their eyes appealing to him as
+the loudest lamentations could not have done. "But if you don't mind,
+I'd like to have an architect, who is in town just now, come up and look
+it over with me," he finished.
+
+"Certainly, sir, certainly," said Rachel, longing for the man to go. But
+when he was gone, she wished him back--anything would be better than
+this aimless wandering from room to room, and from yard to garden and
+back again.
+
+"I suppose <i>he</i> will sit here," murmured Tabitha, dropping wearily
+on to the settee under the apple-trees.
+
+"I suppose so," her sister assented. "I wonder if <i>she</i> knows how
+to grow roses; they'll certainly die if she doesn't!" And Rachel crushed
+a worm under her foot with unnecessary vigor.
+
+"Oh, I hope they'll tend to the vines on the summerhouse, Rachel, and
+the pansies--you don't think they'll let them run to seed, do you? Oh,
+dear!" And Tabitha sprang nervously to her feet and started backyto the
+house.
+
+Mr. Hazelton appeared the next morning with two men--an architect and a
+landscape gardener. Rachel was in the summerhouse, and the first she
+knew of their presence was the sound of talking outside.
+
+"You'll want to grade it down there," she heard a strange voice say,
+"and fill in that little hollow; clear away all those rubbishy posies,
+and mass your flowering shrubs in the background. Those roses are no
+particular good, I fancy; we'll move such as are worth anything, and
+make a rose-bed on the south side--we'll talk over the varieties you
+want, later. Of course these apple-trees and those lilacs will be cut
+down, and this summerhouse will be out of the way. You'll be
+surprised--a few changes will do wonders, and--"
+
+He stopped abruptly. A woman, tall, flushed, and angry-eyed, stood
+before him in the path. She opened her lips, but no sound came--Mr.
+Hazelton was lifting his hat. The flush faded, and her eyes closed as
+though to shut out some painful sight; then she bowed her head with a
+proud gesture, and sped along the way to the house.
+
+Once inside, she threw herself, sobbing, upon the bed. Tabitha found her
+there an hour later.
+
+"You poor dear--they've gone now," she comforted.
+
+Rachel raised her head.
+
+"They're going to cut down everything--every single thing!" she gasped.
+
+"I know it," choked Tabitha, "and they're going to tear out lots of
+doors inside, and build in windows and things. Oh, Rachel,--what shall
+we do?"
+
+"I don't know, oh, I don't know!" moaned the woman on the bed, diving
+into the pillows and hugging them close to her head.
+
+"We--we might give up selling--he said we could if we wanted to."
+
+"But there's Ralph!"
+
+"I know it. Oh, dear--what can we do?"
+
+Rachel suddenly sat upright.
+
+"Do? Why, we'll stand it, of course. We just mustn't mind if he turns
+the house into a hotel and the yard into a--a pasture!" she said
+hysterically. "We must just think of Ralph and of his being a doctor.
+Come, let's go to the village and see if we can rent that tenement of
+old Mrs. Goddard's."
+
+With a long sigh and a smothered sob, Tabitha went to get her hat.
+
+Mrs. Goddard greeted the sisters effusively, and displayed her bits of
+rooms and the tiny square of yard with the plainly expressed wish that
+the place might be their home.
+
+The twins said little, but their eyes were troubled. They left with the
+promise to think it over and let Mrs. Goddard know.
+
+"I didn't suppose rooms could be so little," whispered Tabitha, as they
+closed the gate behind them.
+
+"We couldn't grow as much as a sunflower in that yard," faltered Rachel.
+
+"Well, anyhow, we could have some houseplants!"--Tabitha tried to speak
+cheerfully.
+
+"Indeed we could!" agreed Rachel, rising promptly to her sister's
+height; "and, after all, little rooms are lots cheaper to heat than big
+ones." And there the matter ended for the time being.
+
+Mr. Hazelton and the lawyer with the necessary papers appeared a few
+days later. As the lawyer took off his hat he handed a letter to Miss
+Rachel.
+
+"I stepped into the office and got your mail," he said genially.
+
+"Thank you," replied the lady, trying to smile. "It's from
+Ralph,"--handing it over for her sister to read.
+
+Both the ladies were in somber black; a ribbon or a brooch seemed out of
+place to them that day. Tabitha broke the seal of the letter, and
+retired to the light of the window to read it.
+
+The papers were spread on the table, and the pen was in Rachel's hand
+when a scream from Tabitha shattered the oppressive silence of the room.
+
+"Stop--stop--oh, stop!" she cried, rushing to her sister and snatching
+the pen from her fingers. "We don't have to--see--read!"--pointing to
+the postscript written in a round, boyish hand.
+
+Oh, I say, I've got a surprise for you. You think I've been fishing and
+loafing all summer, but I've been working for the hotels here the whole
+time. I've got a fine start on my money for college, and I've got a
+chance to work for my board all this year by helping Professor Heaton. I
+met him here this summer, and he's the right sort--every time. I've
+intended all along to help myself a bit when it came to the college
+racket, but I didn't mean to tell you until I knew I could do it. But
+it's a sure thing now.
+
+Bye-bye; I'll be home next Saturday.
+
+Your aff. nephew,
+
+Ralph.
+
+Rachel had read this aloud, but her voice ended in a sob instead of in
+the boy's name. Hazelton brushed the back of his hand across his eyes,
+and the lawyer looked intently out the window. For a moment there was a
+silence that could be felt, then Hazelton stepped to the table and
+fumbled noisily with the papers.
+
+"Ladies, I withdraw my offer," he announced. "I can't afford to buy this
+house--I can't possibly afford it--it's too expensive." And without
+another word he left the room, motioning the lawyer to follow.
+
+The sisters looked into each other's eyes and drew a long, sobbing
+breath.
+
+"Rachel, is it true?"
+
+"Oh, Tabitha! Let's--let's go out under the apple-trees and--just know
+that they are there!"
+
+And hand in hand they went.
+
+
+The End
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Years, by Eleanor H. Porter
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE YEARS ***
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+<html>
+<head>
+    <title>Across the Years, by Eleanor H. Porter</title>
+  <style type="text/css">
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+    li.toc { font-variant: small-caps }
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Years, by Eleanor H. Porter
+#9 in our series by Eleanor H. Porter
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
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+Title: Across the Years
+
+Author: Eleanor H. Porter
+
+Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6991]
+[This file last updated on June 20, 2010]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on February 20, 2003]
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+Edition: 11
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACROSS THE YEARS ***
+
+
+
+
+This eBook was produced by Curtis A. Weyant, Charles Franks,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
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+</pre>
+
+
+<h1>Across the Years</h1>
+
+<p style='text-align: center'>by</p>
+
+<h2>Eleanor H. Porter</h2>
+
+<h1>Contents</h1>
+
+<ul>
+  <li><a href="#chap_01">When Father and Mother Rebelled</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_02">Jupiter Ann</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_03">The Axminster Path</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_04">Phineas and the Motor Car</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_05">The Most Wonderful Woman</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_06">The Price of a Pair of Shoes</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_07">The Long Road</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_08">A Couple of Capitalists</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_09">In the Footsteps of Katy</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_10">The Bridge Across the Years</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_11">For Jimmy</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_12">A Summons Home</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_13">The Black Silk Gowns</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_14">A Belated Honeymoon</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_15">When Aunt Abby Waked Up</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_16">Wristers for Three</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_17">The Giving THanks of Cyrus and Huldah</a></li>
+  <li><a href="#chap_18">A New England Idol</a></li>
+</ul>
+
+<p>The stories in this volume are here reprinted by the
+courteous
+permission of the publishers of the periodicals in
+which they first
+appeared,--The Ladies&#8217; Home Journal, Ainslee&#8217;s
+Magazine, The Scrap
+Book, The New England Magazine, The Pictorial Review,
+The Housewife,
+The Pacific Monthly, The Arena, Lippincott&#8217;s
+Magazine, Harper&#8217;s Bazaar,
+The Century Magazine, Woman, Holland&#8217;s Magazine,
+The Designer.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_01"></a>When Father and Mother Rebelled</h1>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Tain&#8217;t more &#8217;n a month ter
+Christmas, Lyddy Ann; did ye know it?&#8221; said
+the old man, settling back in his chair with a curiously
+resigned sigh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know, Samuel,&#8221; returned his wife,
+sending a swift glance over the top of her glasses.</p>
+
+<p>If Samuel Bertram noticed the glance he made no sign.
+&#8220;Hm!&#8221; he murmured. &#8220;I&#8217;ve got
+ten neckerchiefs now. How many crocheted bed-slippers
+you got?--eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Samuel!&#8221; remonstrated Lydia Ann feebly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t care,&#8221; asserted Samuel
+with sudden vehemence, sitting erect in his chair.
+&#8220;Seems as if we might get somethin&#8217; for
+Christmas &#8217;sides slippers an&#8217; neckerchiefs.
+Jest &#8217;cause we ain&#8217;t so young as we once
+was ain&#8217;t no sign that we&#8217;ve lost all
+our faculty for enj&#8217;yment!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Samuel, they&#8217;re good an&#8217; kind,
+an&#8217; want ter give us somethin&#8217;,&#8221;
+faltered Lydia Ann; &#8220;and--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know they&#8217;re good an&#8217; kind,&#8221;
+cut in Samuel wrathfully. &#8220;We&#8217;ve got three
+children, an&#8217; each one brings us a Christmas
+present ev&#8217;ry year. They&#8217;ve got so they
+do it reg&#8217;lar now, jest the same as they--they
+go ter bed ev&#8217;ry night,&#8221; he finished, groping
+a little for his simile. &#8220;An&#8217; they put
+jest about as much thought into it, too,&#8221; he
+added grimly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My grief an&#8217; conscience, Samuel,--how
+can you talk so!&#8221; gasped the little woman opposite.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, they do,&#8221; persisted Samuel. &#8220;They
+buy a pair o&#8217; slippers an&#8217; a neckerchief,
+an&#8217; tuck &#8217;em into their bag for us--an&#8217;
+that&#8217;s done; an&#8217; next year they do the
+same--an&#8217; it&#8217;s done again. Oh, I know I&#8217;m
+ongrateful, an&#8217; all that,&#8221; acknowledged
+Samuel testily, &#8220;but I can&#8217;t help it.
+I&#8217;ve been jest ready to bile over ever since
+last Christmas, an&#8217; now I have biled over. Look
+a-here, Lyddy Ann, we ain&#8217;t so awful old. You&#8217;re
+seventy-three an&#8217; I&#8217;m seventy-six, an&#8217;
+we&#8217;re pert as sparrers, both of us. Don&#8217;t
+we live here by ourselves, an&#8217; do most all the
+work inside an&#8217; outside the house?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; nodded Lydia Ann timidly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, ain&#8217;t there somethin&#8217; you
+can think of sides slippers you&#8217;d like for Christmas--&#8217;specially
+as you never wear crocheted bed-slippers?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lydia Ann stirred uneasily. &#8220;Why, of course,
+Samuel,&#8221; she began hesitatingly, &#8220;bed-slippers
+are very nice, an&#8217;--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So&#8217;s codfish!&#8221; interrupted Samuel
+in open scorn. &#8220;Come,&#8221; he coaxed, &#8220;jest
+supposin&#8217; we was youngsters again, a-tellin&#8217;
+Santa Claus what we wanted. What would you ask for?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Lydia Ann laughed. Her cheeks grew pink, and the lost
+spirit of her youth sent a sudden sparkle to her eyes.
+&#8220;You&#8217;d laugh, dearie. I ain&#8217;t a-goin&#8217;
+ter tell.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I won&#8217;t--&#8217;pon honor!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it&#8217;s so silly,&#8221; faltered Lydia
+Ann, her cheeks a deeper pink. &#8220;Me-- an old
+woman!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course,&#8221; agreed Samuel promptly. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+bound ter be silly, ye know, if we want anythin&#8217;
+but slippers an&#8217; neckerchiefs,&#8221; he added
+with a chuckle. &#8220;Come--out with it, Lyddy Ann.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s--it&#8217;s a tree.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dampers and doughnuts!&#8221; ejaculated Samuel,
+his jaw dropping. &#8220;A tree!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, I knew you&#8217;d laugh,&#8221; quavered
+Lydia Ann, catching up her knitting.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Laugh? Not a bit of it!&#8221; averred Samuel
+stoutly. &#8220;I--I want a tree myself!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye see, it&#8217;s just this,&#8221; apologized
+Lydia Ann feverishly. &#8220;They give us things,
+of course, but they never make anythin&#8217; of doin&#8217;
+it, not even ter tyin&#8217; &#8217;em up with a piece
+of red ribbon. They just slip into our bedroom an&#8217;
+leave &#8217;em all done up in brown paper an&#8217;
+we find &#8217;em after they&#8217;re gone. They mean
+it all kind, but I&#8217;m so tired of gray worsted
+and sensible things. Of course I can&#8217;t have a
+tree, an&#8217; I don&#8217;t suppose I really want
+it; but I&#8217;d like somethin&#8217; all pretty an&#8217;
+sparkly an&#8217;--an&#8217; silly, you know. An&#8217;
+there&#8217;s another thing I want--ice cream. An&#8217;
+I want to make myself sick eatin&#8217; it, too,--if
+I want to; an&#8217; I want little pink-an&#8217;-white
+sugar pep&#8217;mints hung in bags. Samuel, can&#8217;t
+you see how pretty a bag o&#8217; pink pep&#8217;mints
+&#8217;d be on that green tree? An&#8217;--dearie
+me!&#8221; broke off the little old woman breathlessly,
+falling back in her chair. &#8220;How I&#8217;m runnin&#8217;
+on! I reckon I <i>am</i> in my dotage.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Samuel did not reply. His brow was puckered
+into a prodigious frown, and his right hand had sought
+the back of his head--as was always the case when
+in deep thought. Suddenly his face cleared.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye ain&#8217;t in yer dotage--by gum, ye ain&#8217;t!&#8221;
+he cried excitedly. &#8220;An&#8217; I ain&#8217;t,
+neither. An&#8217; what&#8217;s more, you&#8217;re
+a-goin&#8217; ter have that tree--ice cream, pink
+pep&#8217;mints, an&#8217; all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, my grief an&#8217; conscience--Samuel!&#8221;
+quavered Lydia Ann.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, ye be. We can do it easy, too. We&#8217;ll
+have it the night &#8217;fore Christmas. The children
+don&#8217;t get here until Christmas day, ever, ye
+know, so &#8216;t won&#8217;t interfere a mite with
+their visit, an&#8217; &#8217;twill be all over &#8216;fore
+they get here. An&#8217; we&#8217;ll make a party of
+it, too,&#8221; went on Samuel gleefully. &#8220;There&#8217;s
+the Hopkinses an&#8217; old Mis&#8217; Newcomb, an&#8217;
+Uncle Tim, an&#8217; Grandpa Gowin&#8217;--they&#8217;ll
+all come an&#8217; be glad to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Samuel, could we?&#8221; cried Lydia Ann, incredulous
+but joyous. &#8220;Could we, really?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll get the tree myself,&#8221; murmured
+Samuel, aloud, &#8220;an&#8217; we can buy some o&#8217;
+that shiny stuff up ter the store ter trim it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; I&#8217;ll get some of that pink-an&#8217;-white
+tarl&#8217;tan for bags,&#8221; chimed in Lydia Ann
+happily: &#8220;the pink for the white pep&#8217;mints,
+an&#8217; the white for the pink. Samuel, won&#8217;t
+it be fun?&#8221; And to hear her one would have thought
+her seventeen instead of seventy-three.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+<p>A week before Christmas Samuel Bertram&#8217;s only
+daughter, Ella, wrote this letter to each of her brothers:</p>
+
+<p>It has occurred to me that it might be an excellent
+idea if we would plan to spend a little more time
+this year with Father and Mother when we go for our
+usual Christmas visit; and what kind of a scheme do
+you think it would be for us to take the children,
+and make a real family reunion of it?</p>
+
+<p>I figure that we could all get there by four o&#8217;clock
+the day before Christmas, if we planned for it; and
+by staying perhaps two days after Christmas we could
+make quite a visit. What do you say? You see Father
+and Mother are getting old, and we can&#8217;t have
+them with us many more years, anyway; and I&#8217;m
+sure this would please them--only we must be very
+careful not to make it too exciting for them.</p>
+
+<p>The letters were dispatched with haste, and almost
+by return mail came the answers; an emphatic approval,
+and a promise of hearty cooperation signed &#8220;Frank&#8221;
+and &#8220;Ned.&#8221; What is every one&#8217;s business
+is apt to be no one&#8217;s business, however, and
+no one notified Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Bertram of the
+change of plan, each thinking that one of the others
+would attend to it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As for presents,&#8221; mused Ella, as she
+hurried downtown two days before Christmas, &#8220;I
+never can think what to give them; but, after all,
+there&#8217;s nothing better than bed-slippers for
+Mother, and a warm neckerchief for Father&#8217;s
+throat. Those are always good.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The day before Christmas dawned clear and cold. It
+had been expected that Ella, her husband, and her
+twin boys would arrive at the little village station
+a full hour before the train from the north bringing
+Ned, Mrs. Ned, and little Mabel, together with Frank
+and his wife and son; but Ella&#8217;s train was late--so
+late that it came in a scant five minutes ahead of
+the other one, and thus brought about a joyous greeting
+between the reunited families on the station platform
+itself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, it&#8217;s not so bad we were late, after
+all,&#8221; cried Ella. &#8220;This is fine--now we
+can all go together!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jove! but we&#8217;re a cheery sight!&#8221;
+exclaimed Ned, as he counted off on his fingers the
+blooming faces of those about him. &#8220;There are
+ten of us!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Only fancy what they&#8217;ll say at the house
+when they catch their first glimpse of us!&#8221;
+chuckled Frank. &#8220;The dear old souls! How Father&#8217;s
+eyes will shine and Mother&#8217;s cap-strings bob!
+By the way, of course they know we&#8217;re coming
+to-day?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment&#8217;s silence; then Ella flushed.
+&#8220;Why! didn&#8217;t--didn&#8217;t you tell them?&#8221;
+she stammered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I? Why, of course not!&#8221; cried Frank.
+&#8220;I supposed you were going to. But maybe Ned-&#8221;
+He paused and turned questioning eyes on his brother.</p>
+
+<p>Ned shook his head. &#8220;Not I,&#8221; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, then--then they don&#8217;t know,&#8221;
+cried Ella, aghast. &#8220;They don&#8217;t know a
+thing!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind, come on,&#8221; laughed Ned. &#8220;What
+difference does it make?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;What difference does it make&#8217;!&#8221;
+retorted Ella indignantly. &#8220;Ned Bertram, do
+you suppose I&#8217;d take the risk of ten of us pouncing
+down on those two poor dears like this by surprise?
+Certainly not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Ella, they&#8217;re expecting six of us
+to-morrow,&#8221; remonstrated Frank.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very true. But that&#8217;s not ten of us to-day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know; but so far as the work is concerned,
+you girls always do the most of that,&#8221; cut in
+Ned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Work! It isn&#8217;t the work,&#8221; almost
+groaned Ella. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you see, boys? It&#8217;s
+the excitement--&#8217;twouldn&#8217;t do for them
+at all. We must fix it some way. Come, let&#8217;s
+go into the waiting-room and talk it up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was not until after considerable discussion that
+their plans were finally made and their line of march
+decided upon. To advance in the open and take the
+house by storm was clearly out of the question, though
+Ned remarked that in all probability the dear old creatures
+would be dozing before the fire, and would not discover
+their approach. Still, it would be wiser to be on
+the safe side; and it was unanimously voted that Frank
+should go ahead alone and reconnoiter, preparing the
+way for the rest, who could wait, meanwhile, at the
+little hotel not far from the house.</p>
+
+<p>The short winter day had drawn almost to a close when
+Frank turned in at the familiar gate of the Bertram
+homestead. His hand had not reached the white knob
+of the bell, however, when the eager expectancy of
+his face gave way to incredulous amazement; from within,
+clear and distinct, had come the sound of a violin.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, what--&#8221; he cried under his breath,
+and softly pushed open the door.</p>
+
+<p>The hall was almost dark, but the room beyond was
+a blaze of light, with the curtains drawn, and apparently
+every lamp the house contained trimmed and burning.
+He himself stood in the shadow, and his entrance had
+been unnoticed, though almost the entire expanse of
+the room before him was visible through the half-open
+doorway.</p>
+
+<p>In the farther corner of the room a large evergreen
+tree, sparkling with candles and tinsel stars, was
+hung with bags of pink and white tarletan and festoons
+of puffy popcorn. Near it sat an old man playing the
+violin; and his whole wiry self seemed to quiver with
+joy to the tune of his merry &#8220;Money Musk.&#8221;
+In the center of the room two gray-haired men were
+dancing an old-time jig, bobbing, bowing, and twisting
+about in a gleeful attempt to outdo each other. Watching
+them were three old women and another old man, eating
+ice cream and contentedly munching peppermints. And
+here, there, and everywhere was the mistress of the
+house, Lydia Ann herself, cheeks flushed and cap-strings
+flying, but plainly in her element and joyously content.</p>
+
+<p>For a time the man by the hall door watched in silent
+amazement; then with a low ejaculation he softly let
+himself out of the house, and hurried back to the
+hotel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well?&#8221; greeted half a dozen voices; and
+one added: &#8220;What did they say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Frank shook his head and dropped into the nearest
+chair. &#8220;I--I didn&#8217;t tell them,&#8221;
+he stammered faintly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Didn&#8217;t tell them!&#8221; exclaimed Ella.
+&#8220;Why, Frank, what was the trouble? Were they
+sick? Surely, they were not upset by just seeing you!&#8221;
+Frank&#8217;s eyes twinkled &#8220;Well, hardly!&#8221;
+he retorted. &#8220;They--they&#8217;re having a party.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A party!&#8221; shrieked half a dozen voices.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; and a tree, and a dance, and ice cream,
+and pink peppermints,&#8221; Frank enumerated in one
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>There was a chorus of expostulation; then Ella&#8217;s
+voice rose dominant. &#8220;Frank Bertram, what on
+earth do you mean?&#8221; she demanded. &#8220;Who
+is having all this?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Father and Mother,&#8221; returned Frank, his
+lips twitching a little. &#8220;And they&#8217;ve
+got old Uncle Tim and half a dozen others for guests.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Frank, how can they be having all this?&#8221;
+faltered Ella. &#8220;Why, Father&#8217;s not so very
+far from eighty years old, and--Mabel, Mabel, my dear!&#8221;
+she broke off in sudden reproof to her young niece,
+who had come under her glance at that moment. &#8220;Those
+are presents for Grandpa and Grandma. I wouldn&#8217;t
+play with them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mabel hesitated, plainly rebellious. In each hand
+was a gray worsted bed-slipper; atop of her yellow
+curls was a brown neckerchief, cap fashion.</p>
+
+<p>There were exclamations from two men, and Ned came
+forward hurriedly. &#8220;Oh, I say, Ella,&#8221;
+he remonstrated, &#8220;you didn&#8217;t get those
+for presents, did you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I did. Why not?&#8221; questioned Ella.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I got slippers, you see. I never can think
+of anything else. Besides, they&#8217;re always good,
+anyhow. But I should think <i>you</i>, a <i>woman</i>,
+could think of something--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind,&#8221; interrupted Ella airily.
+&#8220;Mother&#8217;s a dear, and she won&#8217;t
+care if she does get two pairs.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But she won&#8217;t want three pairs,&#8221;
+groaned Frank; &#8220;and I got slippers too!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment of dismayed silence, then everybody
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>Ella was the first to speak. &#8220;It&#8217;s too
+bad, of course, but never mind. Mother&#8217;ll see
+the joke of it just as we do. You know she never seems
+to care what we give her. Old people don&#8217;t have
+many wants, I fancy.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Frank stirred suddenly and walked the length of the
+room. Then he wheeled about.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you know,&#8221; he said, a little unsteadily,
+&#8220;I believe that&#8217;s a mistake?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A mistake? What&#8217;s a mistake?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The notion that old people don&#8217;t have
+any--wants. See here. They&#8217;re having a party
+down there--a party, and they must have got it up
+themselves. Such being the case, of course they had
+what they wanted for entertainment--and they aren&#8217;t
+drinking tea or knitting socks. They&#8217;re dancing
+jigs and eating pink peppermints and ice cream! Their
+eyes are like stars, and Mother&#8217;s cheeks are
+like a girl&#8217;s; and if you think I&#8217;m going
+to offer those spry young things a brown neckerchief
+and a pair of bed-slippers you&#8217;re much mistaken--because
+I&#8217;m not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what--can--we do?&#8221; stammered Ella.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We can buy something else here--to-night--in
+the village,&#8221; declared Frank; &#8220;and to-morrow
+morning we can go and give it to them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But--buy what?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t the least idea,&#8221; retorted
+Frank, with an airy wave of his hands. &#8220;Maybe
+&#8217;twill be a diamond tiara and a polo pony. Anyway,
+I know what &#8217;twon&#8217;t be--&#8217;twon&#8217;t
+be slippers or a neckerchief!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+<p>It was later than usual that Christmas morning when
+Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Bertram arose. If the old stomachs
+had rebelled a little at the pink peppermints and
+ice cream, and if the old feet had charged toll for
+their unaccustomed activity of the night before, neither
+Samuel nor Lydia Ann would acknowledge it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, we had it--that tree!&#8221; chuckled
+Samuel, as he somewhat stiffly thrust himself into
+his clothes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We did, Samuel,--we did,&#8221; quavered Lydia
+Ann joyfully, &#8220;an&#8217; wa&#8217;n&#8217;t it
+nice? Mis&#8217; Hopkins said she never had such a
+good time in all her life before.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; Uncle Tim an&#8217; Grandpa Gowin&#8217;--they
+was as spry as crickets, an&#8217; they made old Pete
+tune up that &#8216;Money Musk&#8217; three times &#8217;fore
+they&#8217;d quit.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; an&#8217;--my grief an&#8217; conscience,
+Samuel! &#8217;tis late, ain&#8217;t it?&#8221; broke
+off Lydia Ann, anxiously peering at the clock. &#8220;Come,
+come, dear, you&#8217;ll have ter hurry &#8216;bout
+gettin&#8217; that tree out of the front room &#8217;fore
+the children get here. I wouldn&#8217;t have &#8217;em
+know for the world how silly we&#8217;ve been--not
+for the world!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Samuel bridled, but his movements showed a perceptible
+increase of speed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I do&#8217; know,&#8221; he chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;T wa&#8217;n&#8217;t anythin&#8217;
+so awful, after all. But, say,&#8221; he called triumphantly
+a moment later, as he stooped and picked up a small
+object from the floor, &#8220;they will find out if
+you don&#8217;t hide these &#8217;ere pep&#8217;mints!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The tree and the peppermints had scarcely disappeared
+from the &#8220;front room&#8221; when Frank arrived.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, they&#8217;re all coming in a minute,&#8221;
+he laughed gayly in response to the surprised questions
+that greeted him. &#8220;And we&#8217;ve brought the
+children, too. You&#8217;ll have a houseful, all right!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A houseful it certainly proved to be, and a lively
+one, too. In the kitchen &#8220;the girls&#8221; as
+usual reigned supreme, and bundled off the little
+mother to &#8220;visit with the boys and the children&#8221;
+during the process of dinner-getting, and after dinner
+they all gathered around the fireplace for games and
+stories.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And now,&#8221; said Frank when darkness came
+and the lamps were lighted, &#8220;I&#8217;ve got
+a new game, but it&#8217;s a very mysterious game,
+and you, Father and Mother, must not know a thing
+about it until it&#8217;s all ready.&#8221; And forthwith
+he conducted the little old man and the little old
+woman out into the kitchen with great ceremony.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, Samuel, seems as if this was &#8217;most
+as good as the party,&#8221; whispered Lydia Ann excitedly,
+as they waited in the dark. &#8220;I know it; an&#8217;
+they hain&#8217;t asked us once if we was gettin&#8217;
+too tired! Did ye notice, Lyddy Ann?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, an&#8217; they didn&#8217;t make us take
+naps, either. Ain&#8217;t it nice? Why, Samuel, I--I
+shan&#8217;t mind even the bed-slippers now,&#8221;
+she laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ready!&#8221; called Frank, and the dining-room
+door was thrown wide open.</p>
+
+<p>The old eyes blinked a little at the sudden light,
+then widened in amazement. Before the fireplace was
+a low sewing-table with a chair at each end. The table
+itself was covered with a white cloth which lay in
+fascinating little ridges and hillocks indicating concealed
+treasures beneath. About the table were grouped the
+four eager-eyed grandchildren and their no less eager-eyed
+parents. With still another ceremonious bow Frank
+escorted the little old man and the little old woman
+to the waiting chairs, and with a merry &#8220;One,
+two, three!&#8221; whisked off the cloth.</p>
+
+<p>For one amazed instant there was absolute silence;
+then Lydia Ann drew a long breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Samuel, Samuel, they&#8217;re presents--an&#8217;
+for us!&#8221; she quavered joyously. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+the bed-slippers and the neckerchiefs, an&#8217; they
+did &#8217;em all up in white paper an&#8217; red
+ribbons just for us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the corner of the mantelpiece a woman choked suddenly
+and felt for her handkerchief. Behind her two men
+turned sharply and walked toward the window; but the
+little old man and the little old woman did not notice
+it. They had forgotten everything but the enchanting
+array of mysteries before them.</p>
+
+<p>Trembling old hands hovered over the many-sized, many-shaped
+packages, and gently patted the perky red bows; but
+not until the grandchildren impatiently demanded,
+&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you look at &#8217;em?&#8221;
+did they venture to untie a single ribbon. Then the
+old eyes shone, indeed, at sight of the wonderful
+things disclosed; a fine lace tie and a bottle of perfume;
+a reading-glass and a basket of figs; some dates,
+raisins, nuts, and candies, and a little electric
+pocket lantern which would, at the pressure of a thumb,
+bring to light all the secrets of the darkest of rooms.
+There were books, too, such as Ella and Frank themselves
+liked to read; and there was a handsome little clock
+for the mantel--but there was not anywhere a pair
+of bed-slippers or a neckerchief.</p>
+
+<p>At last they were all opened, and there remained not
+one little red bow to untie. On the table, in all
+their pristine glory, lay the presents, and half-buried
+in bits of paper and red ribbon sat the amazed, but
+blissfully happy, little old man and little old woman.
+Lydia Ann&#8217;s lips parted, but the trembling words
+of thanks froze on her tongue--her eyes had fallen
+on a small pink peppermint on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no, we can&#8217;t take &#8217;em,&#8221;
+she cried agitatedly. &#8220;We hadn&#8217;t ought
+to. We was wicked and ongrateful, and last night we--we--&#8221;
+She paused helplessly, her eyes on her husband&#8217;s
+face. &#8220;Samuel, you--you tell,&#8221; she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>Samuel cleared his throat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, ye see, we--yes, last night, we--we--&#8221;
+He could say no more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We--we had a party to--to make up for things,&#8221;
+blurted out Lydia Ann. &#8220;And so ye see we--we
+hadn&#8217;t ought ter take these--all these!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Frank winced. His face grew a little white as he threw
+a quick glance into his sister&#8217;s eyes; but his
+voice, when he spoke, was clear and strong from sheer
+force of will.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A party? Good! I&#8217;m glad of it. Did you
+enjoy it?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Samuel&#8217;s jaw dropped. Lydia Ann stared speechlessly.
+This cordial approval of their folly was more incomprehensible
+than had been the failure to relegate them to naps
+and knitting earlier in the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you&#8217;ve got another party to-night,
+too; haven&#8217;t you?&#8221; went on Frank smoothly.
+&#8220;As for those things there&#8221;--he waved his
+hand toward the table--&#8220;of course you&#8217;ll
+take them. Why, we picked them out on purpose for
+you,--every single one of them,--and only think how
+we&#8217;d feel if you didn&#8217;t take them! Don&#8217;t
+you--like them?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Like them&#8217;!&#8221; cried Lydia
+Ann, and at the stifled sob in her voice three men
+and three women caught their breath sharply and tried
+to swallow the lumps in their throats. &#8220;We--we
+just love them!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>No one spoke. The grandchildren stared silently, a
+little awed. Ella, Frank, and Ned stirred restlessly
+and looked anywhere but at each other.</p>
+
+<p>Lydia Ann flushed, then paled. &#8220;Of course, if--if
+you picked &#8217;em out &#8217;specially for us--&#8221;
+she began hesitatingly, her eyes anxiously scanning
+the perturbed faces of her children.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We did--especially,&#8221; came the prompt
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>Lydia Ann&#8217;s gaze drifted to the table and lingered
+upon the clock, the tie, and the bottle of perfume.
+&#8220;&#8217;Specially for us,&#8221; she murmured
+softly. Then her face suddenly cleared. &#8220;Why,
+then we&#8217;ll have to take them, won&#8217;t we?&#8221;
+she cried, her voice tremulous with ecstasy. &#8220;We&#8217;ll
+just have to--whether we ought to or not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You certainly will!&#8221; declared Frank.
+And this time he did not even try to hide the shake
+in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; breathed Lydia Ann blissfully. &#8220;Samuel,
+I--I think I&#8217;ll take a fig, please!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_02"></a>Jupiter Ann</h1>
+
+<p>It was only after serious consideration that Miss
+Prue had bought the little horse, Jupiter, and then
+she changed the name at once. For a respectable spinster
+to drive any sort of horse was bad enough in Miss
+Prue&#8217;s opinion; but to drive a heathen one! To
+replace &#8220;Jupiter&#8221; she considered &#8220;Ann&#8221;
+a sensible, dignified, and proper name, and &#8220;Ann&#8221;
+she named him, regardless of age, sex, or &#8220;previous
+condition of servitude.&#8221; The villagers accepted
+the change--though with modifications; the horse was
+known thereafter as &#8220;Miss Prue&#8217;s Jupiter
+Ann.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prue had said that she wanted a safe, steady
+horse; one that would not run, balk, or kick. She
+would not have bought any horse, indeed, had it not
+been that the way to the post office, the store, the
+church, and everywhere else, had grown so unaccountably
+long--Miss Prue was approaching her sixtieth birthday.
+The horse had been hers now a month, and thus far
+it had been everything that a dignified, somewhat timid
+spinster could wish it to be. Fortunately--or unfortunately,
+as one may choose to look at it--Miss Prue did not
+know that in the dim recesses of Jupiter&#8217;s memory
+there lurked the smell of the turf, the feel of the
+jockey&#8217;s coaxing touch, and the sound of a triumphant
+multitude shouting his name; in Miss Prue&#8217;s
+estimation the next deadly sin to treason and murder
+was horse racing.</p>
+
+<p>There was no one in the town, perhaps, who did not
+know of Miss Prue&#8217;s abhorrence of horse racing.
+On all occasions she freed her mind concerning it;
+and there was a report that the only lover of her youth
+had lost his suit through his passion for driving fast
+horses. Even the county fair Miss Prue had refused
+all her life to attend--there was the horse racing.
+It was because of all this that she had been so loath
+to buy a horse, if only the way to everywhere had
+not grown so long!</p>
+
+<p>For four weeks--indeed, for five--the new horse, Ann,
+was a treasure; then, one day, Jupiter remembered.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prue was driving home from the post office. The
+wide, smooth road led straight ahead under an arch
+of flaming gold and scarlet. The October air was crisp
+and bracing, and unconsciously Miss Prue lifted her
+chin and drew a long breath. Almost at once, however,
+she frowned. From behind her had come the sound of
+a horse&#8217;s hoofs, and reluctantly Miss Prue pulled
+the right-hand rein.</p>
+
+<p>Jupiter Ann quickened his gait perceptibly, and lifted
+his head. His ears came erect.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whoa, Ann, whoa!&#8221; stammered Miss Prue
+nervously.</p>
+
+<p>The hoof beats were almost abreast now, and hurriedly
+Miss Prue turned her head. At once she gave the reins
+an angry jerk; in the other light carriage sat Rupert
+Joyce, the young man who for weeks had been unsuccessfully
+trying to find favor in her eyes because he had already
+found it in the eyes of her ward and niece, Mary Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-morning, Miss Prue,&#8221; called a boyish
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-morning,&#8221; snapped the woman, and
+jerked the reins again.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prue awoke then to the sudden realization that
+if the other&#8217;s speed had accelerated, so, too,
+had her own.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ann, Ann, whoa!&#8221; she commanded. Then
+she turned angry eyes on the young man. &#8220;Go
+by--go by! Why don&#8217;t you go by?&#8221; she called
+sharply.</p>
+
+<p>In obedience, young Joyce touched the whip to his
+gray mare: but he did not go by. With a curious little
+shake, as if casting off years of dull propriety,
+Jupiter Ann thrust forward his nose and got down to
+business.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prue grew white, then red. Her hands shook on
+the reins.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ann, Ann, whoa! You mustn&#8217;t--you can&#8217;t!
+Ann, please whoa!&#8221; she supplicated wildly. She
+might as well have besought the wind not to blow.</p>
+
+<p>On and on, neck and neck, the horses raced. Miss Prue&#8217;s
+bonnet slipped and hung rakishly above one ear. Her
+hair loosened and fell in straggling wisps of gray
+to her shoulders. Her eyeglasses dropped from her
+nose and swayed dizzily on their slender chain. Her
+gloves split across the back and showed the white,
+tense knuckles. Her breath came in gasps, and only
+a moaning &#8220;whoa--whoa&#8221; fell in jerky rhythm
+from her white lips. Ashamed, frightened, and dismayed,
+Miss Prue clung to the reins and kept her straining
+eyes on the road ahead.</p>
+
+<p>On and on down the long straight road flew Jupiter
+Ann and the little gray mare. At door and window of
+the scudding houses appeared men and women with startled
+faces and upraised hands. Miss Prue knew that they
+were there, and shuddered. The shame of it--she, in
+a horse-race, and with Rupert Joyce! Hurriedly she
+threw a look at the young man&#8217;s face to catch
+its expression; and then she saw something else: the
+little gray mare was a full half-head in the lead
+of Jupiter Ann!</p>
+
+<p>It was then that a strange something awoke in Miss
+Prue--a fierce new something that she had never felt
+before. Her lips set hard, and her eyes flashed a
+sudden fire. Her moaning &#8220;whoa--whoa&#8221; fell
+silent, and her hands loosened instinctively on the
+reins. She was leaning forward now, eagerly, anxiously,
+her eyes on the head of the other horse. Suddenly
+her tense muscles relaxed, and a look that was perilously
+near to triumphant joy crossed her face--Jupiter Ann
+was ahead once more!</p>
+
+<p>By the time the wide sweep of the driveway leading
+to Miss Prue&#8217;s home was reached, there was no
+question of the result, and well in the lead of the
+little gray mare Jupiter Ann trotted proudly up the
+driveway and came to a panting stop.</p>
+
+<p>Flushed, disheveled, and palpitating, Miss Prue picked
+her way to the ground. Behind her Rupert Joyce was
+just driving into the yard. He, too, was flushed and
+palpitating--though not for the same reason.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I just thought I&#8217;d drive out and see
+Mary Belle,&#8221; he blurted out airily, assuming
+a bold front to meet the wrath which he felt was sure
+to come. At once, however, his jaw dropped in amazement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary Belle? I left her down in the orchard
+gathering apples,&#8221; Miss Prue was saying cheerfully.
+&#8220;You might look for her there.&#8221; And she
+smiled-- the gracious smile of the victor for the
+vanquished.</p>
+
+<p>Incredulously the youth stared; then, emboldened,
+he plunged on recklessly:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I say, you know, Miss Prue, that little horse
+of yours can run!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Prue stiffened. With a jerk she straightened
+her bonnet and thrust her glasses on her nose.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ann has been bad--very bad,&#8221; she said
+severely. &#8220;We&#8217;ll not talk of it, if you
+please. I am ashamed of her!&#8221; And he turned haughtily
+away.</p>
+
+<p>And yet--</p>
+
+<p>In the barn two minutes later, Miss Prue patted Jupiter
+Ann on the neck --a thing she had never done before.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We beat &#8217;em, anyhow, Ann,&#8221; she
+whispered. &#8220;And, after all, he&#8217;s a pleasant-spoken
+chap, and if Mary Belle wants him--why--let&#8217;s
+let her have him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_03"></a>The Axminster Path</h1>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, dear, here we are, all dressed for the
+day!&#8221; said the girl gayly, as she led the frail
+little woman along the strip of Axminster carpet that
+led to the big chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And Kathie?&#8221; asked the woman, turning
+her head with the groping uncertainty of the blind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here, mother,&#8221; answered a cheery voice.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m right here by the window.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; And the woman smiled happily. &#8220;Painting,
+I suppose, as usual.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m working, as usual,&#8221; returned
+the same cheery voice, its owner changing the position
+of the garment in her lap and reaching for a spool
+of silk.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; breathed the blind woman, as
+she sank into the great chair. &#8220;Now I am all
+ready for my breakfast. Tell cook, please, Margaret,
+that I will have tea this morning, and just a roll
+besides my orange.&#8221; And she smoothed the folds
+of her black silk gown and picked daintily at the
+lace in her sleeves.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Very well, dearie,&#8221; returned her daughter.
+&#8220;You shall have it right away,&#8221; she added
+over her shoulder as she left the room.</p>
+
+<p>In the tiny kitchen beyond the sitting-room Margaret
+Whitmore lighted the gas-stove and set the water on
+to boil. Then she arranged a small tray with a bit
+of worn damask and the only cup and saucer of delicate
+china that the shelves contained. Some minutes later
+she went back to her mother, tray in hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Most starved to death?&#8221; she demanded
+merrily, as she set the tray upon the table Katherine
+had made ready before the blind woman. &#8220;You have
+your roll, your tea, your orange, as you ordered, dear,
+and just a bit of currant jelly besides.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Currant jelly? Well, I don&#8217;t know,--perhaps
+it will taste good. &#8217;T was so like Nora to send
+it up; she&#8217;s always trying to tempt my appetite,
+you know. Dear me, girls, I wonder if you realize what
+a treasure we have in that cook!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, dear, I know,&#8221; murmured Margaret
+hastily. &#8220;And now the tea, Mother--it&#8217;s
+getting colder every minute. Will you have the orange
+first?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The slender hands of the blind woman hovered for a
+moment over the table, then dropped slowly and found
+by touch the position of spoons, plates, and the cup
+of tea.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I have everything. I don&#8217;t need
+you any longer, Meg. I don&#8217;t like to take so
+much of your time, dear--you should let Betty do for
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I want to do it,&#8221; laughed Margaret.
+&#8220;Don&#8217;t you want me?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Want you! That isn&#8217;t the question, dear,&#8221;
+objected Mrs. Whitmore gently. &#8220;Of course, a
+maid&#8217;s service can&#8217;t be compared for an
+instant with a daughter&#8217;s love and care; but
+I don&#8217;t want to be selfish--and you and Kathie
+never let Betty do a thing for me. There, there! I
+won&#8217;t scold any more. What are you going to
+do to-day, Meg?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Margaret hesitated. She was sitting by the window
+now, in a low chair near her sister&#8217;s. In her
+hands was a garment similar to that upon which Katherine
+was still at work.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I thought,&#8221; she began slowly, &#8220;I&#8217;d
+stay here with you and Katherine a while.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whitmore set down her empty cup and turned a
+troubled face toward the sound of her daughter&#8217;s
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Meg, dear,&#8221; she remonstrated, &#8220;is
+it that fancy-work?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, isn&#8217;t fancy-work all right?&#8221;
+The girl&#8217;s voice shook a little.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whitmore stirred uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, it--it isn&#8217;t--in this case,&#8221;
+she protested. &#8220;Meg, Kathie, I don&#8217;t like
+it. You are young; you should go out more--both of
+you. I understand, of course; it&#8217;s your unselfishness.
+You stay with me lest I get lonely; and you play at
+painting and fancy-work for an excuse. Now, dearies,
+there must be a change. You must go out. You must take
+your place in society. I will not have you waste your
+young lives.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother!&#8221; Margaret was on her feet, and
+Katherine had dropped her work. &#8220;Mother!&#8221;
+they cried again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I shan&#8217;t even listen,&#8221; faltered
+Margaret. &#8220;I shall go and leave you right away,&#8221;
+she finished tremulously, picking up the tray and hurrying
+from the room.</p>
+
+<p>It was hours later, after the little woman had trailed
+once more along the Axminster path to the bed in the
+room beyond and had dropped asleep, that Margaret
+Whitmore faced her sister with despairing eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Katherine, what shall we do? This thing is
+killing me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The elder girl&#8217;s lips tightened. For an instant
+she paused in her work-- but for only an instant.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; she said feverishly; &#8220;but
+we mustn&#8217;t give up--we mustn&#8217;t!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But how can we help it? It grows worse and
+worse. She wants us to go out--to sing, dance, and
+make merry as we used to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then we&#8217;ll go out and--tell her we dance.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But there&#8217;s the work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll take it with us. We can&#8217;t
+both leave at once, of course, but old Mrs. Austin,
+downstairs, will be glad to have one or the other of
+us sit with her an occasional afternoon or evening.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Margaret sprang to her feet and walked twice the length
+of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I&#8217;ve--lied so much already!&#8221;
+she moaned, pausing before her sister. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+all a lie--my whole life!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes, I know,&#8221; murmured the other,
+with a hurried glance toward the bedroom door. &#8220;But,
+Meg, we mustn&#8217;t give up--&#8217;twould kill her
+to know now. And, after all, it&#8217;s only a little
+while!--such a little while!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Her voice broke with a half-stifled sob. The younger
+girl shivered, but did not speak. She walked again
+the length of the room and back; then she sat down
+to her work, her lips a tense line of determination,
+and her thoughts delving into the few past years for
+a strength that might help her to bear the burden
+of the days to come.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>Ten years before, and one week after James Whitmore&#8217;s
+death, Mrs. James Whitmore had been thrown from her
+carriage, striking on her head and back.</p>
+
+<p>When she came to consciousness, hours afterward, she
+opened her eyes on midnight darkness, though the room
+was flooded with sunlight. The optic nerve had been
+injured, the doctor said. It was doubtful if she would
+ever be able to see again.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was this all. There were breaks and bruises, and
+a bad injury to the spine. It was doubtful if she
+would ever walk again. To the little woman lying back
+on the pillow it seemed a living death--this thing
+that had come to her.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that Margaret and Katherine constituted
+themselves a veritable wall of defense between their
+mother and the world. Nothing that was not inspected
+and approved by one or the other was allowed to pass
+Mrs. Whitmore&#8217;s chamber door.</p>
+
+<p>For young women only seventeen and nineteen, whose
+greatest responsibility hitherto had been the selection
+of a gown or a ribbon, this was a new experience.</p>
+
+<p>At first the question of expense did not enter into
+consideration. Accustomed all their lives to luxury,
+they unhesitatingly demanded it now; and doctors,
+nurses, wines, fruits, flowers, and delicacies were
+summoned as a matter of course.</p>
+
+<p>Then came the crash. The estate of the supposedly
+rich James Whitmore was found to be deeply involved,
+and in the end there was only a pittance for the widow
+and her two daughters.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whitmore was not told of this at once. She was
+so ill and helpless that a more convenient season
+was awaited. That was nearly ten years ago--and she
+had not been told yet.</p>
+
+<p>Concealment had not been difficult at first. The girls
+had, indeed, drifted into the deception almost unconsciously,
+as it certainly was not necessary to burden the ears
+of the already sorely afflicted woman with the petty
+details of the economy and retrenchment on the other
+side of her door.</p>
+
+<p>If her own luxuries grew fewer, the change was so
+gradual that the invalid did not notice it, and always
+her blindness made easy the deception of those about
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Even the move to another home was accomplished without
+her realizing it --she was taken to the hospital for
+a month&#8217;s treatment, and when the month was
+ended she was tenderly carried home and laid on her
+own bed; and she did not know that &#8220;home&#8221;
+now was a cheap little flat in Harlem instead of the
+luxurious house on the avenue where her children were
+born.</p>
+
+<p>She was too ill to receive visitors, and was therefore
+all the more dependent on her daughters for entertainment.</p>
+
+<p>She pitied them openly for the grief and care she
+had brought upon them, and in the next breath congratulated
+them and herself that at least they had all that money
+could do to smooth the difficult way. In the face of
+this, it naturally did not grow any easier for the
+girls to tell the truth--and they kept silent.</p>
+
+<p>For six years Mrs. Whitmore did not step; then her
+limbs and back grew stronger, and she began to sit
+up, and to stand for a moment on her feet. Her daughters
+now bought the strip of Axminster carpet and laid a
+path across the bedroom, and another one from the bedroom
+door to the great chair in the sitting-room, so that
+her feet might not note the straw matting on the floor
+and question its being there.</p>
+
+<p>In her own sitting-room at home--which had opened,
+like this, out of her bedroom--the rugs were soft
+and the chairs sumptuous with springs and satin damask.
+One such chair had been saved from the wreck--the one
+at the end of the strip of carpet.</p>
+
+<p>Day by day and month by month the years passed. The
+frail little woman walked the Axminster path and sat
+in the tufted chair. For her there were a china cup
+and plate, and a cook and maids below to serve. For
+her the endless sewing over which Katherine and Margaret
+bent their backs to eke out their scanty income was
+a picture or a bit of embriodery, designed to while
+away the time.</p>
+
+<p>As Margaret thought of it it seemed incredible--this
+tissue of fabrications that enmeshed them; but even
+as she wondered she knew that the very years that
+marked its gradual growth made now its strength.</p>
+
+<p>And in a little while would come the end--a very little
+while, the doctor said.</p>
+
+<p>Margaret tightened her lips and echoed her sister&#8217;s
+words: &#8220;We mustn&#8217;t give up--we mustn&#8217;t!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Two days later the doctor called. He was a bit out
+of the old life.</p>
+
+<p>His home, too, had been--and was now, for that matter--on
+the avenue. He lived with his aunt, whose heir he
+was, and he was the only one outside of the Whitmore
+family that knew the house of illusions in which Mrs.
+Whitmore lived.</p>
+
+<p>His visits to the little Harlem flat had long ceased
+to have more than a semblance of being professional,
+and it was an open secret that he wished to make Margaret
+his wife. Margaret said no, though with a heightened
+color and a quickened breath--which told at least herself
+how easily the &#8220;no&#8221; might have been a
+&#8220;yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Littlejohn was young and poor, and he had only
+his profession, for all he was heir to one of the
+richest women on the avenue; and Margaret refused
+to burden him with what she knew it would mean to marry
+her. In spite of argument, therefore, and a pair of
+earnest brown eyes that pleaded even more powerfully,
+she held to her convictions and continued to say no.</p>
+
+<p>All this, however, did not prevent Dr. Littlejohn
+from making frequent visits to the Whitmore home,
+and always his coming meant joy to three weary, troubled
+hearts. To-day he brought a great handful of pink
+carnations and dropped them into the lap of the blind
+woman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sweets to the sweet!&#8221; he cried gayly,
+as he patted the slim hand on the arm of the chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor Ned--you dear boy! Oh, how lovely!&#8221;
+exclaimed Mrs. Whitmore, burying her face in the fragrant
+flowers. &#8220;And, doctor, I want to speak to you,&#8221;
+she broke off earnestly. &#8220;I want you to talk
+to Meg and Kathie. Perhaps they will listen to you.
+I want them to go out more. Tell them, please, that
+I don&#8217;t need them all the time now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear me, how independent we are going to be!&#8221;
+laughed the doctor. &#8220;And so we don&#8217;t need
+any more attention now, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Betty will do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Betty?&#8221; It was hard, sometimes, for the
+doctor to remember.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The maid,&#8221; explained Mrs. Whitmore; &#8220;though,
+for that matter, there might as well be no maid--the
+girls never let her do a thing for me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No?&#8221; returned the doctor easily, sure
+now of where he stood. &#8220;But you don&#8217;t
+expect me to interfere in this housekeeping business!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Somebody must,&#8221; urged Mrs. Whitmore.
+&#8220;The girls must leave me more. It isn&#8217;t
+as if we were poor and couldn&#8217;t hire nurses and
+maids. I should die if it were like that, and I were
+such a burden.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, <i>dearest!</i>&#8221; broke in
+Margaret feverishly, with an imploring glance toward
+her sister and the doctor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, by the way,&#8221; interposed the doctor
+airily, &#8220;it has occurred to me that the very
+object of my visit to-day is right along the lines
+of what you ask. I want Miss Margaret to go driving
+with me. I have a call to make out Washington Heights
+way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, but--&#8221; began Margaret, and paused
+at a gesture from her mother.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There aren&#8217;t any &#8216;buts&#8217; about
+it,&#8221; declared Mrs. Whitmore. &#8220;Meg shall
+go.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course she&#8217;ll go!&#8221; echoed Katherine.
+And with three against her, Margaret&#8217;s protests
+were in vain.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Whitmore was nervous that night. She could not
+sleep.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to her that if she could get up and walk,
+back and forth, back and forth, she could rest afterward.
+She had not stepped alone yet, to be sure, since the
+accident, but, after all, the girls did little more
+than guide her feet, and she was sure that she could
+walk alone if she tried.</p>
+
+<p>The more she thought of it the more she longed to
+test her strength. Just a few steps back and forth,
+back and forth--then sleep. She was sure she could
+sleep then. Very quietly, that she might not disturb
+the sleepers in the bedroom beyond, the blind woman
+sat up in bed and slipped her feet to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Within reach were her knit slippers and the heavy
+shawl always kept at the head of her bed. With trembling
+hands she put them on and rose upright.</p>
+
+<p>At last she was on her feet, and alone. To a woman
+who for ten years had depended on others for almost
+everything but the mere act of breathing, it was joy
+unspeakable. She stepped once, twice, and again along
+the side of her bed; then she stopped with a puzzled
+frown--under her feet was the unyielding, unfamiliar
+straw matting. She took four more steps, hesitatingly,
+and with her arms outstretched at full length before
+her. The next instant she recoiled and caught her
+breath sharply; her hands had encountered a wall and
+a window--<i>and there should have been no wall
+or windows there</i>!</p>
+
+<p>The joy was gone now.</p>
+
+<p>Shaking with fear and weakness, the little woman crept
+along the wall and felt for something that would tell
+her that she was still at home. Her feet made no sound,
+and only her hurried breathing broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>Through the open door to the sitting-room, and down
+the wall to the right-on and on she crept.</p>
+
+<p>Here and there a familiar chair or stand met her groping
+hands and held them hesitatingly for a moment, only
+to release them to the terror of an unfamiliar corner
+or window-sill.</p>
+
+<p>The blind woman herself had long since lost all realization
+of what she was doing. There was only the frenzied
+longing to find her own. She did not hesitate even
+at the outer door of the apartment, but turned the
+key with shaking hands and stepped fearlessly into
+the hall. The next moment there came a scream and
+a heavy fall. The Whitmore apartment was just at the
+head of the stairs, and almost the first step of the
+blind woman had been off into space.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>When Mrs. Whitmore regained consciousness she was
+alone in her own bed.</p>
+
+<p>Out in the sitting-room, Margaret, Katherine, and
+the doctor talked together in low tones. At last the
+girls hurried into the kitchen, and the doctor turned
+and entered the bedroom. With a low ejaculation he
+hurried forward.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whitmore flung out her arm and clutched his hand;
+then she lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor,&#8221; she whispered, &#8220;where
+am I?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At home, in your own bed.&#8221;  &#8220;Where
+is this place?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Littlejohn paled. He sent an anxious glance toward
+the sitting-room door, though he knew very well that
+Margaret and Katherine were in the kitchen and could
+not hear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is this place?&#8221; begged the woman
+again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, it--it--is--&#8221; The man paused helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>Five thin fingers tightened their clasp on his hand,
+and the low voice again broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor, did you ever know--did you ever hear
+that a fall could give back--sight?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Littlejohn started and peered into the wan face
+lying back on the pillow. Its impassiveness reassured
+him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, perhaps--once or twice,&#8221; he returned
+slowly, falling back into his old position, &#8220;though
+rarely--very rarely.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it has happened?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, it has happened. There was a case recently
+in England. The shock and blow released the pressure
+on the optic nerve; but--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Something in the face he was watching brought him
+suddenly forward in his chair. &#8220;My dear woman,
+you don&#8217;t mean--you can&#8217;t--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He did not finish his sentence. Mrs. Whitmore opened
+her eyes and met his gaze unflinchingly. Then she
+turned her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor,&#8221; she said, &#8220;that picture
+on the wall there at the foot of the bed--it doesn&#8217;t
+hang quite straight.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Whitmore!&#8221; breathed the man incredulously,
+half rising from his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hush! Not yet!&#8221; The woman&#8217;s insistent
+hand had pulled him back. &#8220;Why am I here? Where
+is this place?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doctor, you must tell me. I must know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the man hesitated. He noted the flushed cheeks
+and shaking hands of the woman before him. It was
+true, she must know; and perhaps, after all, it was
+best she should know through him. He drew a long breath
+and plunged straight into the heart of the story.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later a glad voice came from the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, dearest--then you&#8217;re awake!&#8221;
+The doctor was conscious of a low-breathed &#8220;Hush,
+don&#8217;t tell her!&#8221; in his ears; then, to
+his amazement, he saw the woman on the bed turn her
+head and hold out her hand with the old groping uncertainty
+of the blind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Margaret! It is Margaret, isn&#8217;t it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Days afterward, when the weary, pain-racked body of
+the little mother was forever at rest, Margaret lifted
+her head from her lover&#8217;s shoulder, where she
+had been sobbing out her grief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ned, I can&#8217;t be thankful enough,&#8221;
+she cried, &#8220;that we kept it from Mother to the
+end. It&#8217;s my only comfort. She didn&#8217;t know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I&#8217;m sure she would wish that thought
+to be a comfort to you, dear,&#8221; said the doctor
+gently. &#8220;I am sure she would.&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_04"></a>Phineas and the Motor Car</h1>
+
+<p>Phineas used to wonder, sometimes, just when it was
+that he began to court Diantha Bowman, the rosy-cheeked,
+golden-haired idol of his boyhood. Diantha&#8217;s
+cheeks were not rosy now, and her hair was more silver
+than gold, but she was not yet his wife.</p>
+
+<p>And he had tried so hard to win her! Year after year
+the rosiest apples from his orchard and the choicest
+honey from his apiary had found their way to Diantha&#8217;s
+table; and year after year the county fair and the
+village picnic had found him at Diantha&#8217;s door
+with his old mare and his buggy, ready to be her devoted
+slave for the day. Nor was Diantha unmindful of all
+these attentions. She ate the apples and the honey,
+and spent long contented hours in the buggy; but she
+still answered his pleadings with her gentle: &#8220;I
+hain&#8217;t no call to marry yet, Phineas,&#8221;
+and nothing he could do seemed to hasten her decision
+in the least. It was the mare and the buggy, however,
+that proved to be responsible for what was the beginning
+of the end.</p>
+
+<p>They were on their way home from the county fair.
+The mare, head hanging, was plodding through the dust
+when around the curve of the road ahead shot the one
+automobile that the town boasted. The next moment the
+whizzing thing had passed, and left a superannuated
+old mare looming through a cloud of dust and dancing
+on two wabbly hind legs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Plague take them autymobiles!&#8221; snarled
+Phineas through set teeth, as he sawed at the reins.
+&#8220;I ax yer pardon, I&#8217;m sure, Dianthy,&#8221;
+he added shamefacedly, when the mare had dropped to
+a position more nearly normal; &#8220;but I hain&#8217;t
+no use fur them &#8217;ere contraptions!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Diantha frowned. She was frightened--and because she
+was frightened she was angry. She said the first thing
+that came into her head--and never had she spoken
+to Phineas so sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you did have some use for &#8217;em, Phineas
+Hopkins, you wouldn&#8217;t be crawlin&#8217; along
+in a shiftless old rig like this; you&#8217;d have
+one yourself an&#8217; be somebody! For my part, I
+like &#8217;em, an&#8217; I&#8217;m jest achin&#8217;
+ter ride in &#8217;em, too!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas almost dropped the reins in his amazement.
+&#8220;Achin&#8217; ter ride in &#8217;em,&#8221;
+she had said--and all that he could give her was this
+&#8220;shiftless old rig&#8221; that she so scorned.
+He remembered something else, too, and his face flamed
+suddenly red. It was Colonel Smith who owned and drove
+that automobile, and Colonel Smith, too, was a bachelor.
+What if--Instantly in Phineas&#8217;s soul rose a
+fierce jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I like a hoss, myself,&#8221; he said then,
+with some dignity. &#8220;I want somethin&#8217; that&#8217;s
+alive!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Diantha laughed slyly. The danger was past, and she
+could afford to be merry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, it strikes me that you come pretty near
+havin&#8217; somethin&#8217; that <i>wa&#8217;n&#8217;t</i>
+alive jest &#8216;cause you had somethin&#8217; that
+was!&#8221; she retorted. &#8220;Really, Phineas,
+I didn&#8217;t s&#8217;pose Dolly could move so fast!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas bridled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dolly knew how ter move--once,&#8221; he rejoined
+grimly. &#8220;&#8217;Course nobody pretends ter say
+she&#8217;s young now, any more &#8217;n we be,&#8221;
+he finished with some defiance. But he drooped visibly
+at Diantha&#8217;s next words.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I don&#8217;t feel old, Phineas, an&#8217;
+I ain&#8217;t old, either. Look at Colonel Smith;
+he&#8217;s jest my age, an&#8217; he&#8217;s got a
+autymobile. Mebbe I&#8217;ll have one some day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>To Phineas it seemed that a cold hand clutched his
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dianthy, you wouldn&#8217;t really--ride in
+one!&#8221; he faltered.</p>
+
+<p>Until that moment Diantha had not been sure that she
+would, but the quaver in Phineas&#8217;s voice decided
+her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wouldn&#8217;t I? You jest wait an&#8217; see!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Phineas did wait--and he did see. He saw Diantha,
+not a week later, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, sitting
+by the side of Colonel Smith in that hated automobile.
+Nor did he stop to consider that Diantha was only
+one of a dozen upon whom Colonel Smith, in the enthusiasm
+of his new possession, was pleased to bestow that
+attention. To Phineas it could mean but one thing;
+and he did not change his opinion when he heard Diantha&#8217;s
+account of the ride.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was perfectly lovely,&#8221; she breathed.
+&#8220;Oh, Phineas, it was jest like flyin&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Flyin&#8217;!&#8217;&#8221; Phineas
+could say no more. He felt as if he were choking,--choking with the dust raised by Dolly&#8217;s plodding
+hoofs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; the trees an&#8217; the houses swept
+by like ghosts,&#8221; continued Diantha. &#8220;Why,
+Phineas, I could &#8216;a&#8217; rode on an&#8217;
+on furever!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Before the ecstatic rapture in Diantha&#8217;s face
+Phineas went down in defeat. Without one word he turned
+away--but in his heart he registered a solemn vow:
+he, too, would have an automobile; he, too, would make
+Diantha wish to ride on and on forever!</p>
+
+<p>Arduous days came then to Phineas. Phineas was not
+a rich man. He had enough for his modest wants, but
+until now those wants had not included an automobile--until
+now he had not known that Diantha wished to fly. All
+through the autumn and winter Phineas pinched and economized
+until he had lopped off all of the luxuries and most
+of the pleasures of living. Even then it is doubtful
+if he would have accomplished his purpose had he not,
+in the spring, fallen heir to a modest legacy of a
+few thousand dollars. The news of his good fortune
+was not two hours old when he sought Diantha.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cal&#8217;late mebbe I&#8217;ll be gettin&#8217;
+me one o&#8217; them &#8217;ere autymobiles this spring,&#8221;
+he said, as if casually filling a pause in the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Phineas</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the awed joy in Diantha&#8217;s voice the man&#8217;s
+heart glowed within him. This one moment of triumph
+was worth all the long miserable winter with its butterless
+bread and tobaccoless pipes. But he carefully hid his
+joy when he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he said nonchalantly. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+goin&#8217; ter Boston next week ter pick one out.
+I cal&#8217;late on gettin&#8217; a purty good one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Phineas! But how--how you goin&#8217; ter
+run it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas&#8217;s chin came up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Run it!&#8221; he scoffed. &#8220;Well, I hain&#8217;t
+had no trouble yet steerin&#8217; a hoss, an&#8217;
+I cal&#8217;late I won&#8217;t have any more steerin&#8217;
+a mess o&#8217; senseless metal what hain&#8217;t
+got no eyes ter be seein&#8217; things an&#8217; gittin&#8217;
+scared! I don&#8217;t worry none &#8216;bout runnin&#8217;
+it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Phineas, it ain&#8217;t all steerin&#8217;,&#8221;
+ventured Diantha, timidly. &#8220;There&#8217;s lots
+of little handles and things ter turn, an&#8217; there&#8217;s
+some things you do with your feet. Colonel Smith did.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The name Smith to Phineas was like a match to gunpowder.
+He flamed instantly into wrath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I cal&#8217;late what Colonel Smith does,
+I can,&#8221; he snapped. &#8220;Besides&#8221;--airily--&#8220;mebbe
+I shan&#8217;t git the feet kind, anyhow; I want the
+best. There&#8217;s as much as four or five kinds,
+Jim Blair says, an&#8217; I cal&#8217;late ter try
+&#8217;em all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh-h!&#8221; breathed Diantha, falling back
+in her chair with an ecstatic sigh. &#8220;Oh, Phineas,
+won&#8217;t it be grand!&#8221; And Phineas, seeing
+the joyous light in her eyes, gazed straight down
+a vista of happiness that led to wedding bells and
+bliss.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas was gone some time on his Boston trip. When
+he returned he looked thin and worried. He started
+nervously at trivial noises, and his eyes showed a
+furtive restlessness that quickly caused remark.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Phineas, you don&#8217;t look well!&#8221;
+Diantha exclaimed when she saw him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well? Oh, I&#8217;m well.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; did you buy it--that autymobile?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I did.&#8221; Phineas&#8217;s voice was triumphant.
+Diantha&#8217;s eyes sparkled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is it?&#8221; she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Comin&#8217;--next week.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; did you try &#8217;em all, as you
+said you would?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas stirred; then he sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I dunno,&#8221; he acknowledged. &#8220;I
+hain&#8217;t done nothin&#8217; but ride in &#8217;em
+since I went down--I know that. But there&#8217;s such
+a powerful lot of &#8217;em, Dianthy; an&#8217; when
+they found out I wanted one, they all took hold an&#8217;
+showed off their best p&#8217;ints--&#8217;demonstatin&#8217;,&#8217;
+they called it. They raced me up hill an&#8217; down
+hill, an&#8217; scooted me round corners till I didn&#8217;t
+know where I was. I didn&#8217;t have a minute ter
+myself. An&#8217; they went fast, Dianthy-powerful
+fast. I ain&#8217;t real sure yet that I&#8217;m breathin&#8217;
+natural.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it must have been grand, Phineas! I should
+have loved it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, it was, &#8217;course!&#8221; assured Phineas,
+hastily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; you&#8217;ll take me ter ride, right
+away?&#8221; If Phineas hesitated it was for only
+a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Course,&#8221; he promised. &#8220;Er--there&#8217;s
+a man, he&#8217;s comin&#8217; with it, an&#8217;
+he&#8217;s goin&#8217; ter stay a little, jest ter--ter
+make sure everything&#8217;s all right. After he goes
+I&#8217;ll come. An&#8217; ye want ter be ready--I&#8217;ll
+show ye a thing or two!&#8221; he finished with a
+swagger that was meant to hide the shake in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>In due time the man and the automobile arrived, but
+Diantha did not have her ride at once. It must have
+taken some time to make sure that &#8220;everything
+was all right,&#8221; for the man stayed many days,
+and while he was there, of course Phineas was occupied
+with him. Colonel Smith was unkind enough to observe
+that he hoped it was taking Phineas Hopkins long enough
+to learn to run the thing; but his remark did not reach
+Diantha&#8217;s ears. She knew only that Phineas, together
+with the man and the automobile, started off early
+every morning for some unfrequented road, and did
+not return until night.</p>
+
+<p>There came a day, however, when the man left town,
+and not twenty-four hours later, Phineas, with a gleaming
+thing of paint and polish, stood at Diantha&#8217;s
+door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now ain&#8217;t that pretty,&#8221; quavered
+Diantha excitedly. &#8220;Ain&#8217;t that awful pretty!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas beamed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Purty slick, I think myself,&#8221; he acknowledged.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; green is so much nicer than red,&#8221;
+cooed Diantha.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas quite glowed with joy--Colonel Smith&#8217;s
+car was red. &#8220;Oh, green&#8217;s the thing,&#8221;
+he retorted airily; &#8220;an&#8217; see!&#8221; he
+added; and forthwith he burst into a paean of praise,
+in which tires, horns, lamps, pumps, baskets, brakes,
+and mud-guards were the dominant notes. It almost
+seemed, indeed, that he had bought the gorgeous thing
+before him to look at and talk about rather than to
+use, so loath was he to stop talking and set the wheels
+to moving. Not until Diantha had twice reminded him
+that she was longing to ride in it did he help her
+into the car and make ready to start.</p>
+
+<p>It was not an entire success--that start. There were
+several false moves on Phineas&#8217;s part, and Diantha
+could not repress a slight scream and a nervous jump
+at sundry unexpected puffs and snorts and snaps from
+the throbbing thing beneath her. She gave a louder
+scream when Phineas, in his nervousness, sounded the
+siren, and a wail like a cry from the spirit world
+shrieked in her ears.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Phineas, what was that?&#8221; she shivered,
+when the voice had moaned into silence.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas&#8217;s lips were dry, and his hands and knees
+were shaking; but his pride marched boldly to the
+front.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, that&#8217;s the siren whistle, &#8217;course,&#8221;
+he chattered. &#8220;Ain&#8217;t it great? I thought
+you&#8217;d like it!&#8221; And to hear him one would
+suppose that to sound the siren was always a necessary
+preliminary to starting the wheels.</p>
+
+<p>They were off at last. There was a slight indecision,
+to be sure, whether they would go backward or forward,
+and there was some hesitation as to whether Diantha&#8217;s
+geranium bed or the driveway would make the best thoroughfare.
+But these little matters having been settled to the
+apparent satisfaction of all concerned, the automobile
+rolled down the driveway and out on to the main highway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, ain&#8217;t this grand!&#8221; murmured
+Diantha, drawing a long but somewhat tremulous breath.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas did not answer. His lips were tense, and his
+eyes were fixed on the road ahead. For days now he
+had run the car himself, and he had been given official
+assurance that he was quite capable of handling it;
+yet here he was on his first ride with Diantha almost
+making a failure of the whole thing at the start.
+Was he to be beaten--beaten by a senseless motor car
+and Colonel Smith? At the thought Phineas lifted his
+chin and put on more power.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, my! How f-fast we&#8217;re goin&#8217;!&#8221;
+cried Diantha, close to his ear.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who wants ter crawl?&#8221; he shouted; and
+the car leaped again at the touch of his hand.</p>
+
+<p>They were out of the town now, on a wide road that
+had few turns. Occasionally they met a carriage or
+a wagon, but the frightened horses and the no less
+frightened drivers gave the automobile a wide berth--which was well; for the parallel tracks behind Phineas
+showed that the car still had its moments of indecision
+as to the course to pursue.</p>
+
+<p>The town was four miles behind them when Diantha,
+who had been for some time vainly clutching at the
+flying ends of her veil, called to Phineas to stop.</p>
+
+<p>The request took Phineas by surprise. For one awful
+moment his mind was a blank--he had forgotten how
+to stop! In frantic haste he turned and twisted and
+shoved and pulled, ending with so sudden an application
+of the brakes that Diantha nearly shot head first
+out of the car as it stopped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, why--Phineas!&#8221; she cried a little
+sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas swallowed the lump in his throat and steadied
+himself in his seat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye see I--I can stop her real quick if I want
+to,&#8221; he explained jauntily. &#8220;Ye can do
+&#8216;most anythin&#8217; with these &#8217;ere things
+if ye only know how, Dianthy. Didn&#8217;t we come
+slick?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, indeed,&#8221; stammered Diantha, hastily
+smoothing out the frown on her face and summoning
+a smile to her lips--not for her best black silk gown
+would she have had Phineas know that she was wishing
+herself safe at home and the automobile back where
+it came from.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll go home through the Holler,&#8221;
+said Phineas, after she had retied her veil and they
+were ready to start. &#8220;It&#8217;s the long way
+round, ye know. I ain&#8217;t goin&#8217; ter give
+ye no snippy little two-mile run, Dianthy, like Colonel
+Smith did,&#8221; he finished gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, of course not,&#8221; murmured Diantha,
+smothering a sigh as the automobile started with a
+jerk.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later, tired, frightened, a little breathless,
+but valiantly declaring that she had had a &#8220;beautiful
+time,&#8221; Diantha was set down at her own door.</p>
+
+<p>That was but the first of many such trips. Ever sounding
+in Phineas Hopkins&#8217;s ears and spurring him to
+fresh endeavor, were Diantha&#8217;s words, &#8220;I
+could &#8216;a&#8217; rode on an&#8217; on furever&#8221;;
+and deep in his heart was the determination that if
+it was automobile rides that she wanted, it was automobile
+rides that she should have! His small farm on the edge
+of the town--once the pride of his heart--began to
+look forlorn and deserted; for Phineas, when not actually
+driving his automobile, was usually to be found hanging
+over it with wrench and polishing cloth. He bought
+little food and less clothing, but always--gasolene.
+And he talked to any one who would listen about automobiles
+in general and his own in particular, learnedly dropping
+in frequent references to cylinders, speed, horse
+power, vibrators, carburetors, and spark plugs.</p>
+
+<p>As for Diantha--she went to bed every night with thankfulness
+that she possessed her complement of limbs and senses,
+and she rose every morning with a fear that the coming
+night would find some of them missing. To Phineas
+and the town in general she appeared to be devoted
+to this breathless whizzing over the country roads;
+and wild horses could not have dragged from her the
+truth: that she was longing with an overwhelming longing
+for the old days of Dolly, dawdling, and peace.</p>
+
+<p>Just where it all would have ended it is difficult
+to say had not the automobile itself taken a hand
+in the game--as automobiles will sometimes--and played
+trumps.</p>
+
+<p>It was the first day of the county fair again, and
+Phineas and Diantha were on their way home. Straight
+ahead the road ran between clumps of green, then unwound
+in a white ribbon of dust across wide fields and open
+meadows.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tain&#8217;t much like last year, is it, Dianthy?&#8221;
+crowed Phineas, shrilly, in her ear--then something
+went wrong.</p>
+
+<p>Phineas knew it instantly. The quivering thing beneath
+them leaped into new life--but a life of its own.
+It was no longer a slave, but a master. Phineas&#8217;s
+face grew white. Thus far he had been able to keep
+to the road, but just ahead there was a sharp curve,
+and he knew he could not make the turn--something
+was the matter with the steering-gear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look out--she&#8217;s got the bits in her teeth!&#8221;
+he shouted. &#8220;She&#8217;s bolted!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There came a scream, a sharp report, and a grinding
+crash--then silence.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>From away off in the dim distance Phineas heard a
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Phineas! Phineas!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Something snapped, and he seemed to be floating up,
+up, up, out of the black oblivion of nothingness.
+He tried to speak, but he knew that he made no sound.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Phineas! Phineas!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The voice was nearer now, so near that it seemed just
+above him. It sounded like--With a mighty effort he
+opened his eyes; then full consciousness came. He
+was on the ground, his head in Diantha&#8217;s lap.
+Diantha, bonnet crushed, neck-bow askew, and coat torn,
+was bending over him, calling him frantically by name.
+Ten feet away the wrecked automobile, tip-tilted against
+a large maple tree, completed the picture.</p>
+
+<p>With a groan Phineas closed his eyes and turned away
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s all stove up--an&#8217; now you
+won&#8217;t ever say yes,&#8221; he moaned. &#8220;You
+wanted ter ride on an&#8217; on furever!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I will--I don&#8217;t--I didn&#8217;t mean
+it,&#8221; sobbed Diantha incoherently. &#8220;I&#8217;d
+rather have Dolly twice over. I <i>like</i> ter
+crawl. Oh, Phineas, I hate that thing--I&#8217;ve
+always hated it! I&#8217;ll say yes next week--to-morrow--to-day
+if you&#8217;ll only open your eyes and tell me you
+ain&#8217;t a-dyin&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Phineas was not dying, and he proved it promptly and
+effectually, even to the doubting Diantha&#8217;s
+blushing content. And there their rescuers found them
+a long half-hour later--a blissful old man and a happy
+old woman sitting hand in hand by the wrecked automobile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I cal&#8217;lated somebody&#8217;d be along
+purty soon,&#8221; said Phineas, rising stiffly. &#8220;Ye
+see, we&#8217;ve each got a foot that don&#8217;t go,
+so we couldn&#8217;t git help; but we hain&#8217;t
+minded the wait--not a mite!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_05"></a>The Most Wonderful Woman</h1>
+
+<p><b>And a Great Man who proves himself truly great</b></p>
+
+<p>It was Old Home Week in the little village, and this
+was to be the biggest day. From a distant city was
+to come the town&#8217;s one really Great Man, to
+speak in the huge tent erected on the Common for just
+that purpose. From end to end the village was aflame
+with bunting and astir with excitement, so that even
+I, merely a weary sojourner in the place, felt the
+thrill and tingled pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>When the Honorable Jonas Whitermore entered the tent
+at two o&#8217;clock that afternoon I had a good view
+of him, for my seat was next the broad aisle. Behind
+him on the arm of an usher came a small, frightened-looking
+little woman in a plain brown suit and a plainer brown
+bonnet set askew above thin gray hair. The materials
+of both suit and bonnet were manifestly good, but
+all distinction of line and cut was hopelessly lost
+in the wearing. Who she was I did not know; but I soon
+learned, for one of the two young women in front of
+me said a low something to which the other gave back
+a swift retort, woefully audible: &#8220;<i>His wife</i>?
+That little dowdy thing in brown? Oh, what a pity!
+Such an ordinary woman!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>My cheeks grew hot in sympathy with the painful red
+that swept to the roots of the thin gray hair under
+the tip-tilted bonnet. Then I glanced at the man.</p>
+
+<p>Had he heard? I was not quite sure. His chin, I fancied,
+was a trifle higher. I could not see his eyes, but
+I did see his right hand; and it was clenched so tightly
+that the knuckles were white with the strain. I thought
+I knew then. He had heard. The next minute he had passed
+on up the aisle and the usher was seating the more-frightened-than-ever
+little wife in the roped-off section reserved for
+important guests.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that I became aware that the man on my
+right was saying something.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I beg your pardon, but-did you speak--to me?&#8221;
+I asked, turning to him hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>The old man met my eyes with an abashed smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess I&#8217;m the party what had ought
+to be askin&#8217; pardon, stranger,&#8221; he apologized.
+&#8220;I talk to myself so much I kinder furgit sometimes,
+and do it when folks is round. I was only sayin&#8217;
+that I wondered why &#8217;twas the good Lord give
+folks tongues and forgot to give &#8217;em brains to
+run &#8217;em with. But maybe you didn&#8217;t hear
+what she said,&#8221; he hazarded, with a jerk of
+his thumb toward the young woman in front.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;About Mrs. Whitermore? Yes, I heard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His face darkened.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then you know. And she heard, too! &#8216;Ordinary
+woman,&#8217; indeed! Humph! To think that Betty Tillington
+should ever live to hear herself called an &#8216;ordinary
+woman&#8217;! You see, I knew her when she <i>was</i>
+Betty Tillington.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you?&#8221; I smiled encouragingly. I was
+getting interested, and I hoped he would keep on talking.
+On the platform the guest of honor was holding a miniature
+reception. He was the picture of polite attention and
+punctilious responsiveness; but I thought I detected
+a quick glance now and then toward the roped-off section
+where sat his wife and I wondered again--had he heard
+that thoughtless comment?</p>
+
+<p>From somewhere had come the rumor that the man who
+was to introduce the Honorable Jonas Whitermore had
+been delayed by a washout &#8220;down the road,&#8221;
+but was now speeding toward us by automobile. For my
+part, I fear I wished the absentee a punctured tire
+so that I might hear more of the heart-history of
+the faded little woman with the bonnet askew.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I knew her,&#8221; nodded my neighbor,
+&#8220;and she didn&#8217;t look much then like she
+does now. She was as pretty as a picture and there
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t a chap within sight of her what
+wa&#8217;n&#8217;t head over heels in love with her.
+But there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t never a chance for but
+two of us and we knew it: Joe Whitermore and a chap
+named Fred Farrell. So, after a time, we just sort
+of stood off and watched the race--as pretty a race
+as ever you see. Farrell had the money and the good
+looks, while Whitermore was poor as a church mouse,
+and he was homely, too. But Whitermore must have had
+somethin&#8217;--maybe somethin&#8217; we didn&#8217;t
+see, for she took <i>him</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, they married and settled down happy as
+two twitterin&#8217; birds, but poor as Job&#8217;s
+turkey. For a year or so she was as pretty and gay
+as ever she was and into every good time goin&#8217;;
+then the babies came, one after another, some of &#8217;em
+livin&#8217; and some dyin&#8217; soon after they came.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course, things was different then. What
+with the babies and the housework, Betty couldn&#8217;t
+get out much, and we didn&#8217;t see much of her.
+When we did see her, though, she&#8217;d smile and
+toss her head in the old way and say how happy she
+was and didn&#8217;t we think her babies was the prettiest
+things ever, and all that. And we did, of course, and
+told her so.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But we couldn&#8217;t help seein&#8217; that
+she was gettin&#8217; thin and white and that no matter
+how she tossed her head, there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t any
+curls there to bob like they used to, &#8217;cause
+her hair was pulled straight back and twisted up into
+a little hard knot just like as if she had done it
+up when some one was callin&#8217; her to come quick.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I can imagine it,&#8221; I nodded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, that&#8217;s the way things went at the
+first, while he was gettin&#8217; his start, and I
+guess they was happy then. You see, they was pullin&#8217;
+even them days and runnin&#8217; neck and neck. Even
+when Fred Farrell, her old beau, married a girl she
+knew and built a fine house all piazzas and bow-winders
+right in sight of their shabby little rented cottage,
+I don&#8217;t think she minded it; even if Mis&#8217;
+Farrell didn&#8217;t have anythin&#8217; to do from
+mornin&#8217; till night only set in a white dress
+on her piazza, and rock, and give parties, Betty didn&#8217;t
+seem to mind. She had her Joe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But by and by she didn&#8217;t have her Joe.
+Other folks had him and his business had him. I mean,
+he&#8217;d got up where the big folks in town begun
+to take notice of him; and when he wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+tendin&#8217; to business, he was hobnobbin&#8217;
+with them, so&#8217;s to bring <i>more</i> business.
+And--of course she, with her babies and housework,
+didn&#8217;t have no time for that.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, next they moved away. When they went
+they took my oldest girl, Mary, to help Betty; and
+so we still kept track of &#8217;em. Mary said it was
+worse than ever in the new place. It was quite a big
+city and just livin&#8217; cost a lot. Mr. Whitermore,
+of course, had to look decent, out among folks as
+he was, so he had to be &#8217;tended to first. Then
+what was left of money and time went to the children.
+It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t long, too, before the big folks
+<i>there</i> begun to take notice, and Mr. Whitermore
+would come home all excited and tell about what was
+said to him and what fine things he was bein&#8217;
+asked to do. He said &#8216;twas goin&#8217; to mean
+everythin&#8217; to his career.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then come the folks to call, ladies in fine
+carriages with dressed-up men to hold the door open
+and all that; but always, after they&#8217;d gone,
+Mary&#8217;d find Betty cryin&#8217; somewhere, or
+else tryin&#8217; to fix a bit of old lace or ribbon
+on to some old dress. Mary said Betty&#8217;s clo&#8217;s
+were awful, then. You see, there wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+never any money left for <i>her</i> things. But
+all this didn&#8217;t last long, for very soon the
+fine ladies stopped comin&#8217; and Betty just settled
+down to the children and didn&#8217;t try to fix her
+clo&#8217;s any more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But by and by, of course, the money begun to
+come in--lots of it--and that meant more changes,
+naturally. They moved into a bigger house, and got
+two more hired girls and a man, besides Mary. Mr. Whitermore
+said he didn&#8217;t want his wife to work so hard
+now, and that, besides, his position demanded it.
+He was always talkin&#8217; about his position those
+days, tryin&#8217; to get his wife to go callin&#8217;
+and go to parties and take her place as his wife,
+as he put it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And Mary said Betty did try, and try hard.
+Of course she had nice clo&#8217;s now, lots of &#8217;em;
+but somehow they never seemed to look just right. And
+when she did go to parties, she never knew what to
+talk about, she told Mary. She didn&#8217;t know a
+thing about the books and pictures and the plays and
+quantities of other things that everybody else seemed
+to know about; and so she just had to sit still and
+say nothin&#8217;.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary said she could see it plagued her and
+she wa&#8217;n&#8217;t surprised when, after a time,
+Betty begun to have headaches and be sick party nights,
+and beg Mr. Whitermore to go alone--and then cry because
+he did go alone. You see, she&#8217;d got it into
+her head then that her husband was ashamed of her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And was--he?&#8221; demanded I.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know. Mary said she couldn&#8217;t
+tell exactly. He seemed worried, sometimes, and quite
+put out at the way his wife acted about goin&#8217;
+to places. Then, other times, he didn&#8217;t seem
+to notice or care if he did have to go alone. It wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+that he was unkind to her. It was just that he was
+so busy lookin&#8217; after himself that he forgot
+all about her. But Betty took it all as bein&#8217;
+ashamed of her, no matter what he did; and for a while
+she just seemed to pine away under it. They&#8217;d
+moved to Washington by that time and, of course, with
+him in the President&#8217;s Cabinet, it was pretty
+hard for her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then, all of a sudden, she took a new turn
+and begun to study and to try to learn things--everything:
+how to talk and dress and act, besides stuff that
+was just book-learnin&#8217;. She&#8217;s been doin&#8217;
+that for quite a spell and Mary says she thinks she&#8217;d
+do pretty well now, in lots of ways, if only she had
+half a chance--somethin&#8217; to encourage her, you
+know. But her husband don&#8217;t seem to take no notice,
+now, just as if he&#8217;s got tired expectin&#8217;
+anythin&#8217; of her and that&#8217;s made her so
+scared and discouraged she&#8217;s too nervous to
+act as if she <i>did</i> know anythin&#8217;.
+An&#8217; there &#8217;t is.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, maybe she is just an ordinary woman,&#8221;
+sighed the old man, a little sternly, &#8220;if bein&#8217;
+&#8216;ordinary&#8217; means she&#8217;s like lots
+of others. For I suspect, stranger, that, if the truth
+was told, lots of other big men have got wives just
+like her--women what have been workin&#8217; so tarnal
+hard to help their husbands get ahead that they hain&#8217;t
+had time to see where they themselves was goin&#8217;.
+And by and by they wake up to the fact that they hain&#8217;t
+got nowhere. They&#8217;ve just stayed still, &#8217;way
+behind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary says she don&#8217;t believe Betty would
+mind even that, if her husband only seemed to care--to--to
+understand, you know, how it had been with her and
+how--Crickey! I guess they&#8217;ve come,&#8221; broke
+off the old man suddenly, craning his neck for a better
+view of the door.</p>
+
+<p>From outside had sounded the honk of an automobile
+horn and the wild cheering of men and boys. A few
+minutes later the long-delayed programme began.</p>
+
+<p>It was the usual thing. Before the Speaker of the
+Day came other speakers, and each of them, no matter
+what his subject, failed not to refer to &#8220;our
+illustrious fellow townsman&#8221; in terms of highest
+eulogy. One told of his humble birth, his poverty-driven
+boyhood, his strenuous youth. Another drew a vivid
+picture of his rise to fame. A third dilated upon
+the extraordinary qualities of brain and body which
+had made such achievement possible and which would
+one day land him in the White House itself.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, close to the speaker&#8217;s stand sat
+the Honorable Jonas Whitermore himself, for the most
+part grim and motionless, though I thought I detected
+once or twice a repetition of the half-troubled, half-questioning
+glances directed toward his wife that I had seen before.
+Perhaps it was because I was watching him so closely
+that I saw the sudden change come to his face. The
+lips lost their perfunctory smile and settled into
+determined lines. The eyes, under their shaggy brows,
+glowed with sudden fire. The entire pose and air of
+the man became curiously alert, as if with the eager
+impatience of one who has determined upon a certain
+course of action and is anxious only to be up and
+doing. Very soon after that he was introduced, and,
+amid deafening cheers, rose to his feet. Then, very
+quietly, he began to speak.</p>
+
+<p>We had heard he was an orator. Doubtless many of us
+were familiar with his famous nickname &#8220;Silver-tongued
+Joe.&#8221; We had expected great things of him--a
+brilliant discourse on the tariff, perhaps, or on our
+foreign relations, or yet on the Hague Tribunal. But
+we got none of these. We got first a few quiet words
+of thanks and appreciation for the welcome extended
+him; then we got the picture of an everyday home just
+like ours, with all its petty cares and joys so vividly
+drawn that we thought we were seeing it, not hearing
+about it. He told us it was a little home of forty
+years ago, and we began to realize, some way, that
+he was speaking of himself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I may, you know, here,&#8221; he said, &#8220;for
+I am among my own people. I am at home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Even then I didn&#8217;t see what he was coming to.
+Like the rest I sat slightly confused, wondering what
+it all meant. Then, suddenly, into his voice there
+crept a tense something that made me sit more erect
+in my seat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>My</i> indomitable will-power? <i>My</i>
+superb courage? <i>My</i> stupendous strength
+of character? <i>My</i> undaunted persistence
+and marvelous capacity for hard work?&#8221; he was
+saying. &#8220;Do you think it&#8217;s to that I owe
+what I am? Never! Come back with me to that little
+home of forty years ago and I&#8217;ll show you to
+what and to whom I do owe it. First and foremost I
+owe it to a woman--no ordinary woman, I want you to
+understand--but to the most wonderful woman in the
+world.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I knew then. So did my neighbor, the old man at my
+side. He jogged my elbow frantically and whispered:--</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s goin&#8217; to--he&#8217;s goin&#8217;
+to! He&#8217;s goin&#8217; to show her he <i>does</i>
+care and understand! He <i>did</i> hear that girl.
+Crickey! But ain&#8217;t he the cute one to pay her
+back like that, for what she said?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The little wife down front did not know--yet, however.
+I realized that, the minute I looked at her and saw
+her drawn face and her frightened, staring eyes fixed
+on her husband up there on the platform--her husband,
+who was going to tell all these people about some wonderful
+woman whom even she had never heard of before, but
+who had been the making of him, it seemed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>My</i> will-power?&#8221; the Honorable
+Jonas Whitermore was saying then. &#8220;Not mine,
+but the will-power of a woman who did not know the
+meaning of the word &#8216;fail.&#8217; Not my superb
+courage, but the courage of one who, day in and day
+out, could work for a victory whose crown was to go,
+not to herself, but to another. Not my stupendous
+strength of character, but that of a beautiful young
+girl who could see youth and beauty and opportunity
+nod farewell, and yet smile as she saw them go. Not
+my undaunted persistence, but the persistence of one
+to whom the goal is always just ahead, but never reached.
+And last, not my marvelous capacity for hard work,
+but that of the wife and mother who bends her back
+each morning to a multitude of tasks and cares that
+she knows night will only interrupt--not finish.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>My eyes were still on the little brown-clad woman
+down in front, so I saw the change come to her face
+as her husband talked. I saw the terror give way to
+puzzled questioning, and that, in turn, become surprise,
+incredulity, then overwhelming joy as the full meaning
+came to her that she herself was that most wonderful
+woman in the world who had been the making of him.
+I looked then for just a touch of the old frightened,
+self-consciousness at finding herself thus so conspicuous;
+but it did not come. The little woman plainly had
+forgotten us. She was no longer Mrs. Jonas Whitermore
+among a crowd of strangers listening to a great man&#8217;s
+Old-Home-Day speech. She was just a loving, heart-hungry,
+tired, all-but-discouraged wife hearing for the first
+time from the lips of her husband that he knew and
+cared and understood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Through storm and sunshine, she was always
+there at her post, aiding, encouraging, that I might
+be helped,&#8221; the Honorable Jonas Whitermore was
+saying. &#8220;Week in and week out she fought poverty,
+sickness, and disappointments, and all without a murmur,
+lest her complaints distract me for one precious moment
+from my work. Even the nights brought her no rest,
+for while I slept, she stole from cot to cradle and
+from cradle to crib, covering outflung little legs
+and arms, cooling parched little throats with water,
+quieting fretful whimpers and hushing threatening
+outcries with a low &#8217;Hush, darling, mother&#8217;s
+here. Don&#8217;t cry! You&#8217;ll wake father--and
+father must have his sleep.&#8217; And father had it--that
+sleep, just as he had the best of everything else in
+the house: food, clothing, care, attention--everything.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What mattered it if her hands did grow rough
+and toil-worn? Mine were left white and smooth--for
+my work. What mattered it if her back and her head
+and her feet did ache? Mine were left strong and painless--for
+my work. What mattered her wakefulness if I slept?
+What mattered her weariness if I was rested? What
+mattered her disappointments if my aims were accomplished?
+Nothing!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Honorable Jonas Whitermore paused for breath,
+and I caught mine and held it. It seemed, for a minute,
+as if everybody all over the house was doing the same
+thing, too, so absolutely still was it, after that
+one word--&#8220;nothing.&#8221; They were beginning
+to understand--a little. I could tell that. They were
+beginning to see this big thing that was taking place
+right before their eyes. I glanced at the little woman
+down in front. The tender glow on her face had grown
+and deepened and broadened until her whole little
+brown-clad self seemed transfigured. My own eyes dimmed
+as I looked. Then, suddenly I became aware that the
+Honorable Jonas Whitermore was speaking again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And not for one year only, nor two, nor ten,
+has this quintessence of devotion been mine,&#8221;
+he was saying, &#8220;but for twice ten and then a
+score more--for forty years. For forty years! Did
+you ever stop to think how long forty years could
+be--forty years of striving and straining, of pinching
+and economizing, of serving and sacrificing? Forty
+years of just loving somebody else better than yourself,
+and doing this every day, and every hour of the day
+for the whole of those long forty years? It isn&#8217;t
+easy to love somebody else <i>always</i> better
+than yourself, you know! It means the giving up of
+lots of things that <i>you</i> want. You might
+do it for a day, for a month, for a year even--but
+for forty years! Yet she has done it--that most wonderful
+woman. Do you wonder that I say it is to her, and
+to her alone, under God, that I owe all that I am,
+all that I hope to be?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Once more he paused. Then, in a voice that shook a
+little at the first, but that rang out clear and strong
+and powerful at the end, he said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ladies, gentlemen, I understand this will close
+your programme. It will give me great pleasure, therefore,
+if at the adjournment of this meeting you will allow
+me to present you to the most wonderful woman in the
+world--my wife.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I wish I could tell you what happened then. The words--oh,
+yes, I could tell you in words what happened. For
+that matter, the reporters at the little stand down
+in front told it in words, and the press of the whole
+country blazoned it forth on the front page the next
+morning. But really to know what happened, you should
+have heard it and seen it, and felt the tremendous
+power of it deep in your soul, as we did who did see
+it.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment&#8217;s breathless hush, then to
+the canvas roof there rose a mighty cheer and a thunderous
+clapping of hands as by common impulse the entire
+audience leaped to its feet.</p>
+
+<p>For one moment only did I catch a glimpse of Mrs.
+Jonas Whitermore, blushing, laughing, and wiping teary
+eyes in which the wondrous glow still lingered; then
+the eager crowd swept down the aisle toward her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Crickey!&#8221; breathed the red-faced old
+man at my side. &#8220;Well, stranger, even if it
+does seem sometimes as if the good Lord give some folks
+tongues and forgot to give &#8217;em brains to run
+&#8217;em with, I guess maybe He kinder makes up for
+it, once in a while, by givin&#8217; other folks the
+brains to use their tongues so powerful well!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I nodded dumbly. I could not speak just then--but
+the young woman in front of me could. Very distinctly
+as I passed her I heard her say:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, now, ain&#8217;t that the limit, Sue?
+And her such an ordinary woman, too!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_06"></a>The Price of a Pair of Shoes</h1>
+
+<p>For fifty years the meadow lot had been mowed and
+the side hill ploughed at the nod of Jeremiah&#8217;s
+head; and for the same fifty years the plums had been
+preserved and the mince-meat chopped at the nod of
+his wife&#8217;s-- and now the whole farm from the
+meadowlot to the mince-meat was to pass into the hands
+of William, the only son, and William&#8217;s wife,
+Sarah Ellen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll be so much nicer, mother,--no care
+for you!&#8221; Sarah Ellen had declared.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And so much easier for you, father, too,&#8221;
+William had added. &#8220;It&#8217;s time you rested.
+As for money--of course you&#8217;ll have plenty in
+the savings-bank for clothes and such things. You
+won&#8217;t need much, anyhow,&#8221; he finished,
+&#8220;for you&#8217;ll get your living off the farm
+just as you always have.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So the matter was settled, and the papers were made
+out. There was no one to be considered, after all,
+but themselves, for William was the only living son,
+and there had been no daughters.</p>
+
+<p>For a time it was delightful. Jeremiah and Hester
+Whipple were like children let out of school. They
+told themselves that they were people of leisure now,
+and they forced themselves to lie abed half an hour
+later than usual each day. They spent long hours in
+the attic looking over old treasures, and they loitered
+about the garden and the barn with no fear that it
+might be time to get dinner or to feed the stock.</p>
+
+<p>Gradually, however, there came a change. A new restlessness
+entered their lives, a restlessness that speedily
+became the worst kind of homesickness--the homesickness
+of one who is already at home.</p>
+
+<p>The extra half-hour was spent in bed as before--but
+now Hester lay with one ear listening to make sure
+that Sarah Ellen <i>did</i> let the cat in for
+her early breakfast; and Jeremiah lay with his ear
+listening for the squeak of the barn door which would
+tell him whether William was early or, late that morning.
+There were the same long hours in the attic and the
+garden, too--but in the attic Hester discovered her
+treasured wax wreath (late of the parlor wall); and
+in the garden Jeremiah found more weeds than <i>he</i>
+had ever allowed to grow there, he was sure.</p>
+
+<p>The farm had been in the hands of William and Sarah
+Ellen just six months when the Huntersville Savings
+Bank closed its doors. It was the old story of dishonesty
+and disaster, and when the smoke of Treasurer Hilton&#8217;s
+revolver cleared away there was found to be practically
+nothing for the depositors. Perhaps on no one did
+the blow fall with more staggering force than on Jeremiah
+Whipple.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Hester,&#8221; he moaned, when he found
+himself alone with his wife, &#8220;here I&#8217;m
+seventy-eight years old--an&#8217; no money! What am
+I goin&#8217; ter do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, dear,&#8221; soothed Hester; &#8220;but
+&#8217;t ain&#8217;t as bad for us as &#8217;tis for
+some. We&#8217;ve got the farm, you know; an&#8217;--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We hain&#8217;t got the farm,&#8221; cut in
+her husband sharply. &#8220;William an&#8217; Sarah
+Ellen&#8217;s got it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know, but they--why, they&#8217;re <i>us</i>,
+Jeremiah,&#8221; reminded Hester, trying to keep the
+quaver out of her voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mebbe, Hester, mebbe,&#8221; conceded Jeremiah;
+but he turned and looked out of the window with gloomy
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>There came a letter to the farmhouse soon after this
+from Nathan Banks, a favorite nephew, suggesting that
+&#8220;uncle and aunt&#8221; pay them a little visit.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just the thing, father!&#8221; cried William.
+&#8220;Go--it&#8217;ll do you both good!&#8221; And
+after some little talk it was decided that the invitation
+should be accepted.</p>
+
+<p>Nathan Banks lived thirty miles away, but not until
+the night before the Whipples were to start did it
+suddenly occur to Jeremiah that he had now no money
+for railroad tickets. With a heightened color on his
+old cheeks he mentioned the fact to William.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye see, I--I s&#8217;pose I&#8217;ll have ter
+come ter you,&#8221; he apologized. &#8220;Them won&#8217;t
+take us!&#8221; And he looked ruefully at a few coins
+he had pulled from his pocket. &#8220;They&#8217;re
+all the cash I&#8217;ve got left.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>William frowned a little and stroked his beard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure enough!&#8221; he muttered. &#8220;I forgot
+the tickets, too, father. &#8217;T is awkward--that
+bank blowing up; isn&#8217;t it? Oh, I&#8217;ll let
+you have it all right, of course, and glad to, only
+it so happens that just now I--er, how much is it,
+anyway?&#8221; he broke off abruptly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I reckon a couple of dollars&#8217;ll
+take us down, an&#8217; more, mebbe,&#8221; stammered
+the old man, &#8220;only, of course, there&#8217;s
+comin&#8217; back, and--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, we don&#8217;t have to reckon on that part
+now,&#8221; interrupted William impatiently, as he
+thrust his hands into his pockets and brought out a
+bill and some change. &#8220;I can send you down some
+more when that time comes. There, here&#8217;s a two;
+if it doesn&#8217;t take it all, what&#8217;s left
+can go toward bringing you back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And he handed out the bill, and dropped the change
+into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you, William,&#8221; stammered the old
+man. &#8220;I--I&#8217;m sorry--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that&#8217;s all right,&#8221; cut in William
+cheerfully, with a wave of his two hands. &#8220;Glad
+to do it, father; glad to do it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. and Mrs. Whipple stayed some weeks with their
+nephew. But, much as they enjoyed their visit, there
+came a day when home--regardless of weeds that were
+present and wax wreaths that were absent--seemed to
+them the one place in the world; and they would have
+gone there at once had it not been for the railroad
+fares.</p>
+
+<p>William had not sent down any more money, though his
+letters had been kind, and had always spoken of the
+warm welcome that awaited them any time they wished
+to come home.</p>
+
+<p>Toward the end of the fifth week a bright idea came
+to Jeremiah.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll go to Cousin Abby&#8217;s,&#8221;
+he announced gleefully to his wife. &#8220;Nathan
+said last night he&#8217;d drive us over there any
+time. We&#8217;ll go to-morrow, an&#8217; we won&#8217;t
+come back here at all--it&#8217;ll be ten miles nearer
+home there, an&#8217; it won&#8217;t cost us a cent
+ter get there,&#8221; he finished triumphantly. And
+to Cousin Abby&#8217;s they went.</p>
+
+<p>So elated was Jeremiah with the result of his scheming
+that he set his wits to work in good earnest, and
+in less than a week he had formulated an itinerary
+that embraced the homes of two other cousins, an aunt
+of Sarah Ellen&#8217;s, and the niece of a brother-in-law,
+the latter being only three miles from &#8217;his
+own farmhouse--or rather William&#8217;s farmhouse,
+as he corrected himself bitterly. Before another month
+had passed, the round of visits was accomplished,
+and the little old man and the little old woman--having
+been carried to their destination in each case by
+their latest host--finally arrived at the farmhouse
+door. They were weary, penniless, and half-sick from
+being feasted and f&#234;ted at every turn, but they were
+blissfully conscious that of no one had they been
+obliged to beg the price of their journey home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We didn&#8217;t write we were comin&#8217;,&#8221;
+apologized Jeremiah faintly, as he stumbled across
+the threshold and dropped into the nearest chair. &#8220;We
+were goin&#8217; ter write from Keziah&#8217;s, but
+we were so tired we hurried right up an&#8217; come
+home. &#8217;Tis nice ter get here; ain&#8217;t it,
+Hester?&#8221; he finished, settling back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Nice&#8217;!&#8221; cried Hester tremulously,
+tugging at her bonnet strings. &#8220;&#8216;Nice&#8217;
+ain&#8217;t no name for it, Jeremiah. Why, Sarah Ellen,
+seems if I don&#8217;t want to do nothin&#8217; for
+a whole month but set in my own room an&#8217; jest
+look &#8217;round all day!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You poor dear--and that&#8217;s all you shall
+do!&#8221; soothed Sarah Ellen; and Hester sighed,
+content. For so many, many weeks now she had sat upon
+strange chairs and looked out upon an unfamiliar world!</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>It was midwinter when Jeremiah&#8217;s last pair of
+shoes gave out. &#8220;An&#8217; there ain&#8217;t
+a cent ter get any new ones, Hester,&#8221; he exclaimed,
+ruefully eying the ominously thin place in the sole.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, Jeremiah, but there&#8217;s William,&#8221;
+murmured Hester. &#8220;I&#8217;m sure he--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, of course, he&#8217;d give it to me,&#8221;
+cried Jeremiah quickly; &#8220;but--I--I sort of hate
+to ask.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pooh! I wouldn&#8217;t think of that,&#8221;
+declared Hester stoutly, but even as she spoke, she
+tucked her own feet farther under her chair. &#8220;We
+gave them the farm, and they understood they was to
+take care of us, of course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m, yes, I know, I know. I&#8217;ll ask him,&#8221;
+murmured Jeremiah--but he did not ask him until the
+ominously thin place in the sole had become a hole,
+large, round, and unmistakable.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, William,&#8221; he began jocosely, trying
+to steady his shaking voice, &#8220;guess them won&#8217;t
+stand for it much longer!&#8221; And he held up the
+shoe, sole uppermost.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I should say not!&#8221; laughed William;
+then his face changed. &#8220;Oh, and you&#8217;ll
+have to have the money for some new ones, of course.
+By George! It does beat all how I keep forgetting
+about that bank!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, William, I&#8217;m sorry,&#8221; stammered
+the old man miserably.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I can let you have it all right, father,
+and glad to,&#8221; assured William, still frowning.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s only that just at this time I&#8217;m
+a little short, and--&#8221; He stopped abruptly and
+thrust his hands into his pockets. &#8220;Hm-m,&#8221;
+he vouchsafed after a minute. &#8220;Well, I&#8217;ll
+tell you what--I haven&#8217;t got any now, but in
+a day or two I&#8217;ll take you over to the village
+and see what Skinner&#8217;s got that will fit you.
+Oh, we&#8217;ll have some shoes, father, never fear!&#8221;
+he laughed. &#8220;You don&#8217;t suppose I&#8217;m
+going to let my father go barefoot!--eh?&#8221; And
+he laughed again.</p>
+
+<p>Things wore out that winter in the most unaccountable
+fashion--at least those belonging to Jeremiah and
+Hester did, especially undergarments. One by one they
+came to mending, and one by one Hester mended them,
+patch upon patch, until sometimes there was left scarcely
+a thread of the original garment. Once she asked William
+for money to buy new ones, but it happened that William
+was again short, and though the money she had asked
+for came later, Hester did not make that same request
+again.</p>
+
+<p>There were two things that Hester could not patch
+very successfully--her shoes. She fried to patch them
+to be sure, but the coarse thread knotted in her shaking
+old hands, and the bits of leather--cut from still
+older shoes--slipped about and left her poor old thumb
+exposed to the sharp prick of the needle, so that
+she finally gave it up in despair. She tucked her
+feet still farther under her chair these days when
+Jeremiah was near, and she pieced down two of her
+dress skirts so that they might touch the floor all
+round. In spite of all this, however, Jeremiah saw,
+one day--and understood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hester,&#8221; he cried sharply, &#8220;put
+out your foot.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Hester did not hear--apparently. She lowered the paper
+she was reading and laughed a little hysterically.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Such a good joke, Jeremiah!&#8221; she quavered.
+&#8220;Just let me read it. A man--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hester, be them the best shoes you&#8217;ve
+got?&#8221; demanded Jeremiah.</p>
+
+<p>And Hester, with a wisdom born of fifty years&#8217;
+experience of that particular tone of voice, dropped
+her paper and her subterfuge, and said gently: &#8220;Yes,
+Jeremiah.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment&#8217;s pause; then Jeremiah sprang
+to his feet, thrust his hands into his pockets, and
+paced the tiny bedroom from end to end.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hester, this thing&#8217;s a-killin&#8217;
+me!&#8221; he blurted out at last. &#8220;Here I&#8217;m
+seventy-eight years old--an&#8217; I hain&#8217;t got
+money enough ter buy my wife a pair of shoes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But the farm, Jeremiah--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I tell ye the farm ain&#8217;t mine,&#8221;
+cut in Jeremiah savagely. &#8220;Look a-here, Hester,
+how do you s&#8217;pose it feels to a man who&#8217;s
+paid his own way since he was a boy, bought a farm
+with his own money an&#8217; run it, brought up his
+boys an&#8217; edyercated &#8217;em--how do ye s&#8217;pose
+it feels fur that man ter go ter his own son an&#8217;
+say: &#8217;Please, sir, can&#8217;t I have a nickel
+ter buy me a pair o&#8217; shoestrings?&#8217; How
+do ye s&#8217;pose it feels? I tell ye, Hester, I
+can&#8217;t stand it--I jest can&#8217;t! I&#8217;m
+goin&#8217; ter work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jere-mi-ah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I am,&#8221; repeated the old man doggedly.
+&#8220;You&#8217;re goin&#8217; ter have some shoes,
+an&#8217; I&#8217;m goin&#8217; ter earn &#8217;em.
+See if I don&#8217;t!&#8221; And he squared his shoulders,
+and straightened his bent back as if already he felt
+the weight of a welcome burden.</p>
+
+<p>Spring came, and with it long sunny days and the smell
+of green things growing. Jeremiah began to be absent
+day after day from the farmhouse. The few tasks that
+he performed each morning were soon finished, and
+after that he disappeared, not to return until night.
+William wondered a little, but said nothing. Other
+and more important matters filled his mind.</p>
+
+<p>Only Hester noticed that the old man&#8217;s step
+grew more languid and his eye more dull; and only
+Hester knew that at night he was sometimes too tired
+to sleep--that he could not &#8220;seem ter hit the
+bed,&#8221; as he expressed it.</p>
+
+<p>It was at about this time that Hester began to make
+frequent visits to the half-dozen farmhouses in the
+settlement about them. She began to be wonderfully
+busy these days, too, knitting socks and mittens, or
+piecing up quilts. Sarah Ellen asked her sometimes
+what she was doing, but Hester&#8217;s answers were
+always so cheery and bright that Sarah Ellen did not
+realize that the point was always evaded and the subject
+changed.</p>
+
+<p>It was in May that the inevitable happened. William
+came home one day to find an excited, weeping wife
+who hurried him into the seclusion of their own room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;William, William,&#8221; she moaned, &#8220;what
+shall we do? It&#8217;s father and mother; they&#8217;ve--oh,
+William, how can I tell you!&#8221; and she covered
+her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>William paled under his coat of tan. He gripped his
+wife&#8217;s arm with fingers that hurt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What is it--what&#8217;s happened?&#8221; he
+asked hoarsely. &#8220;They aren&#8217;t hurt or--dead?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; choked Sarah Ellen. &#8220;I
+didn&#8217;t mean to frighten you. They&#8217;re all
+right that way. They--they&#8217;ve <i>gone to work</i>!
+William, what <i>shall</i> we do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again William Whipple gripped his wife&#8217;s arm
+with fingers that hurt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sarah Ellen, quit that crying, for Heaven&#8217;s
+sake! What does this mean? What are you talking about?&#8221;
+he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Sarah Ellen sopped her eyes with her handkerchief
+and lifted her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was this morning. I was over to Maria Weston&#8217;s,&#8221;
+she explained brokenly. &#8220;Maria dropped something
+about a quilt mother was piecing for her, and when
+I asked her what in the world she meant, she looked
+queer, and said she supposed I knew. Then she tried
+to change the subject; but I wouldn&#8217;t let her,
+and finally I got the whole story out of her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes, go on,&#8221; urged William impatiently,
+as Sarah Ellen paused for breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It seems mother came to her a while ago, and--and
+she went to others, too. She asked if there wasn&#8217;t
+some knitting or patchwork she could do for them.
+She said she--she wanted to earn some money.&#8221;
+Sarah Ellen&#8217;s voice broke over the last word,
+and William muttered something under his breath. &#8220;She
+said they&#8217;d lost all they had in the bank,&#8221;
+went on Sarah Ellen hurriedly, &#8220;and that they
+didn&#8217;t like to ask you for money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I always let them have--&#8221; began
+William defensively; then he stopped short, a slow
+red staining his face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know you have,&#8221; interposed Sarah
+Ellen eagerly; &#8220;and I said so to Maria. But
+mother had already told her that, it seems. She said
+that mother said you were always glad to give it to
+them when they asked for it, but that it hurt father&#8217;s
+pride to beg, so he&#8217;d gone to work to earn some
+of his own.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Father!&#8221; exclaimed William. &#8220;But
+I thought you said &#8217;twas mother. Surely father
+isn&#8217;t knitting socks and mittens, is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no,&#8221; cried Sarah Ellen. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+coming to that as fast as I can. You see, &#8217;twas
+father who went to work first. He&#8217;s been doing
+all sorts of little odd jobs, even to staying with
+the Snow children while their folks went to town,
+and spading up Nancy Howe&#8217;s flower beds for her.
+But it&#8217;s been wearing on him, and he was getting
+all tired out. Only think of it, William--<i>working
+out--father and mother!</i> I just can&#8217;t ever
+hold up my head again! What <i>shall</i> we do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do? Why, we&#8217;ll stop it, of course,&#8221;
+declared William savagely. &#8220;I guess I can support
+my own father and mother without their working for
+a living!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it&#8217;s money, William, that they want.
+Don&#8217;t you see?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, we&#8217;ll give them money, then. I
+always have, anyway,--when they asked for it,&#8221;
+finished William in an aggrieved voice.</p>
+
+<p>Sarah Ellen shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It won&#8217;t do,&#8221; she sighed. &#8220;It
+might have done once--but not now. They&#8217;ve got
+to the point where they just can&#8217;t accept money
+doled out to them like that. Why, just think, &#8217;t
+was all theirs once!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, &#8217;tis now--in a way.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know--but we haven&#8217;t acted as if it
+were. I can see that now, when it&#8217;s too late.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll give it back, then,&#8221; cried
+William, his face clearing; &#8220;the whole blamed
+farm!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sarah Ellen frowned. She shook her head slowly, then
+paused, a dawning question in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t suppose--William, could we?&#8221;
+she cried with sudden eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, we can try mighty hard,&#8221; retorted
+the man grimly. &#8220;But we&#8217;ve got to go easy,
+Sarah Ellen,--no bungling. We&#8217;ve got to spin
+some sort of a yarn that won&#8217;t break, nor have
+any weak places; and of course, as far as the real
+work of the farm is concerned, we&#8217;ll still do
+the most of it. But the place&#8217;ll be theirs.
+See?--theirs! <i>Working out</i>--good Heavens!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It must have been a week later that Jeremiah burst
+into his wife&#8217;s room. Hester sat by the window,
+bending over numberless scraps of blue, red, and pink
+calico.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Put it up, put it up, Hester,&#8221; he panted
+joyously. &#8220;Ye hain&#8217;t got to sew no more,
+an&#8217; I hain&#8217;t neither. The farm is ours!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Jeremiah, what--how--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, Hester, no more than you
+do,&#8221; laughed Jeremiah happily; &#8220;only William
+says he&#8217;s tired of runnin&#8217; things all alone,
+an&#8217; he wants me to take hold again. They&#8217;re
+goin&#8217; ter make out the papers right away; an&#8217;
+say, Hester,&#8221;--the bent shoulders drew themselves
+erect with an air of pride,--&#8220;I thought mebbe
+this afternoon we&#8217;d drive over ter Huntersville
+an&#8217; get some shoes for you. Ye know you&#8217;re
+always needin&#8217; shoes!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_07"></a>The Long Road</h1>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jane!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, father.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is the house locked up?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are ye sure, now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes, dear; I just did it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, won&#8217;t ye see?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I have seen, father.&#8221; Jane did not
+often make so many words about this little matter,
+but she was particularly tired to-night.</p>
+
+<p>The old man fell back wearily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seems ter me, Jane, ye might jest see,&#8221;
+he fretted. &#8220;&#8217;T ain&#8217;t much I&#8217;m
+askin&#8217; of ye, an&#8217; ye know them spoons--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes, dear, I&#8217;ll go,&#8221; interrupted
+the woman hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And, Jane!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221; The woman turned and waited. She
+knew quite well what was coming, but it was the very
+exquisiteness of her patient care that allowed her
+to give no sign that she had waited in that same spot
+to hear those same words every night for long years
+past.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; ye might count &#8217;em--them spoons,&#8221;
+said the old man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; the forks.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; them photygraph pictures in the parlor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All right, father.&#8221; The woman turned
+away. Her step was slow, but confident--the last word
+had been said.</p>
+
+<p>To Jane Pendergast her father had gone with the going
+of his keen, clear mind, twenty years before. This
+fretful, childish, exacting old man that pottered
+about the house all day was but the shell that had
+held the kernel--the casket that had held the jewel.
+But because of what it had held, Jane guarded it tenderly,
+laying at its feet her life as a willing sacrifice.</p>
+
+<p>There had been four children: Edgar, the eldest; Jane,
+Mary, and Fred. Edgar had left home early, and was
+a successful business man in Boston. Mary had married
+a wealthy lawyer of the same city; and Fred had opened
+a real estate office in a thriving Southern town.</p>
+
+<p>Jane had stayed at home. There had been a time, it
+is true, when she had planned to go away to school;
+but the death of Mrs. Pendergast left no one at home
+to care for Mary and Fred, so Jane had abandoned the
+idea. Later, after Mary had married and Fred had gone
+away, there was still her father to be cared for,
+though at this time he was well and strong.</p>
+
+<p>Jane had passed her thirty-fifth birthday, when she
+became palpitatingly aware of a pair of blue-gray
+eyes, and a determined, smooth-shaven chin belonging
+to the recently arrived principal of the village school.
+In spite of her stern admonition to herself to remember
+her years and not quite lose her head, she was fast
+drifting into a rosy dream of romance that was all
+the more enthralling because so belated, when the summons
+of a small boy brought her sharply back to the realities.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s yer father, miss. They want ye ter
+come,&#8221; he panted. &#8220;Somethin&#8217; has
+took him. He&#8217;s in Mackey&#8217;s drug store,
+talkin&#8217; awful queer. He ain&#8217;t his self,
+ye know. They thought maybe you could--do somethin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jane went at once--but she could do nothing except
+to lead gently home the chattering, shifting-eyed
+thing that had once been her father. One after another
+the village physicians shook their heads--they could
+do nothing. Skilled alienists from the city--they,
+too, could do nothing. There was nothing that could
+be done, they said, except to care for him as one
+would for a child. He would live years, probably. His
+constitution was wonderfully good. He would not be
+violent--just foolish and childish, with perhaps a
+growing irritability as the years passed and his physical
+strength failed.</p>
+
+<p>Mary and Edgar had come home at once. Mary had stayed
+two days and Edgar five hours. They were shocked and
+dismayed at their father&#8217;s condition. So overwhelmed
+with grief were they, indeed, that they fled from the
+room almost immediately upon seeing him, and Edgar
+took the first train out of town.</p>
+
+<p>Mary, shiveringly, crept from room to room, trying
+to find a place where the cackling laugh and the fretful
+voice would not reach her. But the old man, like a
+child with a new toy, was pleased at his daughter&#8217;s
+arrival, and followed her about the house with unfailing
+persistence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Mary, he won&#8217;t hurt you. Why do
+you run?&#8221; remonstrated Jane.</p>
+
+<p>Mary shuddered and covered her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jane, Jane, how can you take it so calmly!&#8221;
+she moaned. &#8220;How can you bear it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment&#8217;s pause. A curious expression
+had come to Jane&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some one--has to,&#8221; she said at last,
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Jane went down to the village the next afternoon,
+leaving her sister in charge at home. When she returned,
+an hour later, Mary met her at the gate, crying and
+wringing her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jane, Jane, I thought you would never come!
+I can&#8217;t do a thing with him. He insists that
+he isn&#8217;t at home, and that he wants to go there.
+I told him, over and over again, that he <i>was</i>
+at home already, but it didn&#8217;t do a bit of good.
+I&#8217;ve had a perfectly awful time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know. Where is he?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the kitchen. I--I tied him. He just would
+go, and I couldn&#8217;t hold him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, <i>Mary!</i>&#8221; And Jane fairly
+flew up the walk to the kitchen door. A minute later
+she appeared, leading an old man, who was whimpering
+pitifully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Home, Jane. I want ter go home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, dear, I know. We&#8217;ll go.&#8221; And
+Mary watched with wondering eyes while the two walked
+down the path, through the gate and across the street
+to the next corner, then slowly crossed again and came
+back through the familiar doorway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Home!&#8221; chuckled the old man gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve come home!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mary went back to Boston the next day. She said it
+was fortunate, indeed, that Jane&#8217;s nerves were
+so strong. For her part, she could not have stood
+it another day.</p>
+
+<p>The days slipped into weeks, and the weeks into months.
+Jane took the entire care of her father, except that
+she hired a woman to come in for an hour or two once
+or twice a week, when she herself was obliged to leave
+the house.</p>
+
+<p>The owner of the blue-gray eyes did not belie the
+determination of his chin, but made a valiant effort
+to establish himself on the basis of the old intimacy;
+but Miss Pendergast held herself sternly aloof, and
+refused to listen to him. In a year he had left town--but
+it was not his fault that he was obliged to go away
+alone, as Jane Pendergast well knew.</p>
+
+<p>One by one the years passed. Twenty had gone by now
+since the small boy came with his fateful summons
+that June day. Jane was fifty-five now, a thin-faced,
+stoop-shouldered, tired woman--but a woman to whom
+release from this constant care was soon to come,
+for she was not yet fifty-six when her father died.</p>
+
+<p>All the children and some of the grandchildren came
+to the funeral. In the evening the family, with the
+exception of Jane, gathered in the sitting-room and
+discussed the future, while upstairs the woman whose
+fate was most concerned laid herself wearily in bed
+with almost a pang that she need not now first be
+doubly sure that doors were locked and spoons were
+counted.</p>
+
+<p>In the sitting-room below, discussion waxed warm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what shall we do with her?&#8221; demanded
+Mary. &#8220;I had meant to give her my share of the
+property,&#8221; she added with an air of great generosity,
+&#8220;but it seems there&#8217;s nothing to give.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, there&#8217;s nothing to give,&#8221; returned
+Edgar. &#8220;The house had to be mortgaged long ago
+to pay their living expenses, and it will have to be
+sold.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But she&#8217;s got to live somewhere!&#8221;
+Mary&#8217;s voice was fretful, questioning.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment there was silence; then Edgar stirrad
+in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, why can&#8217;t she go to you, Mary?&#8221;
+he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Me!&#8221; Mary almost screamed the word.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Edgar!--when you know how much I have
+on my hands with my great house and all my social
+duties, to say nothing of Belle&#8217;s engagement!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, maybe Jane could help.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Help! How, pray?--to entertain my guests?&#8221;
+And even Edgar smiled as he thought of Jane, in her
+five-year-old bonnet and her ten-year-old black gown,
+standing in the receiving line at an exclusive Commonwealth
+Avenue reception.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, but--&#8221; Edgar paused impotently.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you take her?&#8221; It was
+Mary who made the suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I? Oh, but I--&#8221; Edgar stopped and glanced
+uneasily at his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, of course, if it&#8217;s <i>necessary</i>,&#8221;
+murmured Mrs. Edgar, with a resigned air. &#8220;I
+should certainly never wish it said that I refused
+a home to any of my husband&#8217;s poor relations.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, good Heavens! Let her come to us,&#8221;
+cut in Fred sharply. &#8220;I reckon we can take care
+of our &#8216;poor relations&#8217; for a spell yet;
+eh, Sally?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, sure we can,&#8221; retorted. Fred&#8217;s
+wife, in her soft Southern drawl. &#8220;We&#8217;ll
+be right glad to take her, I reckon.&#8221; And there
+the matter ended.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>Jane Pendergast had been South two months, when one
+day Edgar received a letter from his brother Fred.</p>
+
+<p>Jane&#8217;s going North [wrote Fred]. Sally says
+she can&#8217;t have her in the house another week.
+&#8217;Course, we don&#8217;t want to tell Jane exactly
+that-- but we&#8217;ve fixed it so she&#8217;s going
+to leave.</p>
+
+<p>I&#8217;m sorry if this move causes you folks any
+trouble, but there just wasn&#8217;t any other way
+out of it. You see, Sally is Southern and easy-going,
+and I suppose not over-particular in the eyes of you
+stiff Northerners. I don&#8217;t mind things, either,
+and I suppose I&#8217;m easy, too.</p>
+
+<p>Well, great Scott!--Jane hadn&#8217;t been down here
+five minutes before she began to &#8220;slick up,&#8221;
+as she called it--and she&#8217;s been &#8220;slickin&#8217;
+up&#8221; ever since. Sally always left things round
+handy, and so&#8217;ve the children; but since Jane
+came, we haven&#8217;t been able to find a thing when
+we wanted it. All our boots and shoes are put away,
+turned toes out, and all our hats and coats are snatched
+up and hung on pegs the minute we toss them off.</p>
+
+<p>Maybe this don&#8217;t seem much to you, but it&#8217;s
+lots to us. Anyhow, Jane&#8217;s going North. She
+says she&#8217;s going to visit Edgar a little while,
+and I told her I&#8217;d write and tell you she&#8217;s
+coming. She&#8217;ll be there about the 20th. Will
+wire you what train.</p>
+
+<p>Your affectionate brother</p>
+
+<p style="font-variant: small-caps; text-align: right">Fred</p>
+
+<p>As gently as possible Edgar broke to his wife the
+news of the prospective guest. Julia Pendergast was
+a good woman. At least she often said that she was,
+adding, at the same time, that she never knowingly
+refused to do her duty. She said the same thing now
+to her husband, and she immediately made some very
+elaborate and very apparent changes in her home and
+in her plans, all with an eye to the expected guest.
+At four o&#8217;clock Wednesday afternoon Edgar met
+his sister at the station.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t see as you&#8217;ve changed
+much,&#8221; he said kindly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Haven&#8217;t I? Why, seems as if I must look
+changed a lot,&#8221; chirruped Jane. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+so rested, and Fred and Sally were so good to me! Why,
+they tried not to have me do a thing--and I didn&#8217;t
+do much, only a little puttering around just to help
+out with the work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m,&#8221; murmured Edgar. &#8220;Well, I&#8217;m
+glad to see you&#8217;re--rested.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Julia met them in the hall of the beautiful Brookline
+residence. Lined up with her were the four younger
+children, who lived at home. They made an imposing
+array, and Jane was visibly affected.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, it&#8217;s so good of you--to meet me--like
+this!&#8221; she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, we wished to, I&#8217;m sure,&#8221; returned
+Mrs. Pendergast, with a half-stifled sigh. &#8220;I
+hope I understand my duty to my guest and my sister-in-law
+sufficiently to know what is her due. I did not allow
+anything--not even my committee meeting to-day--to
+interfere with this call for duty at home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jane fell back. All the glow fled from her face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, then you did stay at home--and for me!
+I&#8217;m so sorry,&#8221; she stammered.</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Pendergast raised a deprecatory hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say no more. It was nothing. Now come, let
+me show you to your room. I&#8217;ve given you Ella&#8217;s
+room, and put Ella in Tom&#8217;s, and Tom in Bert&#8217;s,
+and moved Bert upstairs to the little room over--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, don&#8217;t!&#8221; interrupted Jane, in
+quick distress. &#8220;I don&#8217;t want to put people
+out so! Let me go upstairs.&#8221;  Mrs. Pendergast
+frowned and sighed. She had the air of one whose kindest
+efforts are misunderstood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear Jane, I am sorry, but I shall have
+to ask you to be as satisfied as you can be with the
+arrangements I am able to make for you. You see, even
+though this house is large, I am, in a way, cramped
+for room. I always have to keep three guest-rooms
+ready for immediate occupancy. I am a member of four
+clubs and six charitable and religious organizations,
+besides the church, and there are always ministers
+and delegates whom I feel it my duty to entertain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But that is all the more reason why I should
+go upstairs, and not put all those children out of
+their rooms,&#8221; begged Jane.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Pendergast shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It does them good,&#8221; she said decidely,
+&#8220;to learn to be self-sacrificing. That is a
+virtue we all must learn to practice.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jane flushed again; then she turned abruptly. &#8220;Julia,
+did you want me to--to come to see you?&#8221; she
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, certainly; what a question!&#8221; returned
+Mrs. Pendergast, in a properly shocked tone of voice.
+&#8220;As if I could do otherwise than to want my
+husband&#8217;s sister to come to us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jane smiled faintly, but her eyes were troubled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you; I&#8217;m glad you feel--that way.
+You see, at Fred&#8217;s--I wouldn&#8217;t have them
+know it for the world, they were <i>so</i> good
+to me--but I thought, lately, that maybe they didn&#8217;t
+want--But it wasn&#8217;t so, of course. It couldn&#8217;t
+have been. I--I ought not even to think it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m; no,&#8221; returned Mrs. Pendergast,
+with noncommittal briefness.</p>
+
+<p>Not six weeks later Mary, in her beautiful Commonwealth
+Avenue home, received a call from a little, thin-faced
+woman, who curtsied to the butler and asked him to
+please tell her sister that she wished to speak to
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Mary looked worried and not over-cordial when she
+rustled into the room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Jane, did you find your way here all alone?&#8221;
+she cried.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes--no--well, I asked a man at the last; but,
+you know, I&#8217;ve been here twice before with the
+others.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know,&#8221; said Mary.</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause; then Jane cleared her throat timidly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary, I--I&#8217;ve been thinking. You see,
+just as soon as I&#8217;m strong enough, I--I&#8217;m
+going to take care of myself, and then I won&#8217;t
+be a burden to--to anybody.&#8221; Jane was talking
+very fast now. Her words came tremulously between
+short, broken breaths. &#8220;But until I get well
+enough to earn money, I can&#8217;t, you see. And
+I&#8217;ve been thinking;--would you be willing to
+take me until--until I can? I&#8217;m lots better,
+already, and getting stronger every day. It wouldn&#8217;t
+be for--long.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, of course, Jane!&#8221; Mary spoke cheerfully,
+and in a tone a little higher than her ordinary voice.
+&#8220;I should have asked you to come here before,
+only I feared you wouldn&#8217;t be happy here--such
+a different life for you, and so much noise and confusion
+with Belle&#8217;s wedding coming on, and all!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jane gave her a grateful glance.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, of course,--you&#8217;d think that,--and
+it isn&#8217;t that I&#8217;m finding fault with Julia
+and Edgar. I couldn&#8217;t do that--they&#8217;re
+so good to me. But, you see, I put them out so. Now,
+there&#8217;s my room, for one thing. &#8217;T was
+Ella&#8217;s, and Ella has to keep running in for things
+she&#8217;s left, and she says it&#8217;s the same
+with the others. You see, I&#8217;ve got Ella&#8217;s
+room, and Ella&#8217;s got Tom&#8217;s, and Tom&#8217;s
+got Bert&#8217;s. It&#8217;s a regular &#8217;house
+that Jack built&#8217;--and I&#8217;m the &#8217;Jack&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see,&#8221; laughed Mary constrainedly. &#8220;And
+you want to come here? Well, you shall. You--you may
+come a week from Saturday,&#8221; she added, after
+a pause. &#8220;I have a reception and a dinner here
+the first of the week, and --you&#8217;d better stay
+away until after that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, thank you,&#8221; sighed Jane. &#8220;You
+are so good. I shall tell Julia that I&#8217;m invited
+here, so she won&#8217;t think I&#8217;m dissatisfied.
+They&#8217;re so good to me--I wouldn&#8217;t want
+to hurt their feelings!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course not,&#8221; murmured Mary.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>The big, fat tire of the touring-car popped like a
+pistol shot directly in front of the large white house
+with the green blinds.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is the time we&#8217;re in luck, Belle,&#8221;
+laughed the good-natured young fellow who had been
+driving the car. &#8220;Do you see that big piazza
+just aching for you to come and sit on it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Are we really stalled, Will?&#8221; asked the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Looks like it--for a while. I&#8217;ll have
+to telephone Peters to bring down a tire. Of course,
+to-day is the day we <i>didn&#8217;t</i> take
+it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Some minutes later the girl found herself on the cool
+piazza, in charge of a wonderfully hospitable old
+lady, while down the road the good-looking young
+fellow was making long strides toward the next house
+and a telephone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We are staying at the Lindsays&#8217;, in North
+Belton,&#8221; explained the girl, when he was gone,
+&#8220;and we came out for a little spin before dinner.
+Isn&#8217;t this Belton? I have an aunt who used to
+live here somewhere--Aunt Jane Pendergast&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old lady sat suddenly erect in her chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;My dear,&#8221; she cried, &#8220;you don&#8217;t
+mean to say that you&#8217;re Jane Pendergast&#8217;s
+niece! Now, that is queer! Why, this was her very house--we
+bought it when the old gentleman died last year. But,
+come, we&#8217;ll go inside. You&#8217;ll want to
+see everything, of course!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was some time before the young man came back from
+telephoning, and it was longer still before Peters
+came with the new tire, and helped get the touring-car
+ready for the road. The girl was very quiet when they
+finally left the house, and there was a troubled look
+deep in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Belle, what&#8217;s the matter?&#8221;
+asked the young fellow concernedly, as he slackened
+speed in the cool twilight of the woods, some minutes
+later. &#8220;What&#8217;s troubling you, dear?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will&#8221;--the girl&#8217;s voice shook--&#8220;Will,
+that was Aunt Jane&#8217;s house. That old lady--told
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aunt Jane?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes--the little gray-haired woman that
+came to live with us two months ago. You know her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, y-yes; I think I&#8217;ve--seen her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The girl winced, as from a blow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Will, don&#8217;t! I can&#8217;t bear it,&#8221;
+she choked. &#8220;It only shows how we&#8217;ve treated
+her--how little we&#8217;ve made of her, when we ought
+to have done everything--everything to make her happy.
+Instead of that, we were brutes--all of us!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Belle!&#8221;--the tone was an indignant protest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But we were--listen! She lived in that house
+all her life till last year. She never went anywhere
+or did anything. For twenty years she lived with an
+old man who had lost his mind, and she tended him like
+a baby--only a baby grows older all the time and more
+interesting, while he--oh, Will, it was awful! That
+old lady--told me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By Jove!&#8221; exclaimed the young fellow,
+under his breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And there were other things,&#8221; hurried
+on the girl, tremulously. &#8220;Some way, I never
+thought of Aunt Jane only as old and timid; but she
+was young like us, once. She wanted to go away to
+school--but she couldn&#8217;t go; and there was some
+one who--loved her--once--later, and she sent him--away.
+That was after--after grandfather lost his mind. Mother
+and Uncle Edgar and Uncle Fred--they all went away
+and lived their own lives, but she stayed on. Then
+last year grandfather died.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The girl paused and moistened her lips. The man did
+not speak. His eyes were on the road ahead of the
+slow-moving car.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I heard to-day--how--how proud and happy Aunt
+Jane was that Uncle Fred had asked her to come and
+live with him,&#8221; resumed the girl, after a minute.
+&#8220;That old lady told me how Aunt Jane talked and
+talked about it before she went away, and how she
+said that all her life she had taken care of others,
+and it would be so good to feel that now some one was
+going to look out for her, though, of course, she should
+do everything she could to help, and she hoped she
+could still be of some use.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, she has been, hasn&#8217;t she?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The girl shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the worst of it. We haven&#8217;t
+made her think she was. She stayed at Uncle Fred&#8217;s
+for a while, and then he sent her to Uncle Edgar&#8217;s.
+Something must have been wrong there, for she asked
+mother two months ago if she might come to us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m sure you&#8217;ve been--good
+to her.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But we haven&#8217;t!&#8221; cried the girl.
+&#8220;Mother meant all right, I know, but she didn&#8217;t
+think. And I&#8217;ve been--horrid. Aunt Jane tried
+to show her interest in my wedding plans, but I only
+laughed at her and said she wouldn&#8217;t understand.
+We&#8217;ve pushed her aside, always,--we&#8217;ve
+never made her one of us; and--we&#8217;ve always
+made her feel her dependence.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you&#8217;ll do differently now, dear,--now
+that you understand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the girl shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We can&#8217;t,&#8221; she moaned. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+too late. I had a letter from mother last night. Aunt
+Jane&#8217;s sick--awfully sick. Mother said I might
+expect to--to hear of the end any day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But there&#8217;s some time left--a little!&#8221;--his
+voice broke and choked into silence. Suddenly he made
+a quick movement, and the car beneath them leaped
+forward like a charger that feels the prick of the
+spur.</p>
+
+<p>The girl gave a frightened cry, then a tremulous little
+sob of joy. The man had cried in her ear, in response
+to her questioning eyes:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re--going--to--Aunt Jane!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And to them both, at the moment, there seemed to be
+waiting at the end of the road a little bent old woman,
+into whose wistful eyes they were to bring the light
+of joy and peace.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_08"></a>A Couple of Capitalists</h1>
+
+<p>On the top of the hill stood the big brick house--a
+mansion, compared to the other houses of the New England
+village. At the foot of the hill nestled the tiny
+brown farmhouse, half buried in lilacs, climbing roses,
+and hollyhocks.</p>
+
+<p>Years ago, when Reuben had first brought Emily to
+that little brown cottage, he had said to her, ruefully:
+&#8220;Sweetheart, &#8217;tain&#8217;t much of a place,
+I know, but we&#8217;ll save and save, every cent we
+can get, an&#8217; by an&#8217; by we&#8217;ll go
+up to live in the big house on the hill!&#8221; And
+he kissed so tenderly the pretty little woman he had
+married only that morning that she smiled brightly
+and declared that the small brown house was the very
+nicest place in the world.</p>
+
+<p>But, as time passed, the &#8220;big house&#8221; came
+to be the Mecca of all their hopes, and penny by penny
+the savings grew. It was slow work, though, and to
+hearts less courageous the thing would have seemed
+an impossibility. No luxuries--and scarcely the bare
+necessities of life-- came to the little house under
+the hill, but every month a tiny sum found its way
+into the savings bank. Fortunately, air and sunshine
+were cheap, and, if inside the house there was lack
+of beauty and cheer, outside there was a riotous wealth
+of color and bloom--the flowers under Emily&#8217;s
+loving care flourished and multiplied.</p>
+
+<p>The few gowns in the modest trousseau had been turned
+inside out and upside down, only to be dyed and turned
+and twisted all over again. But what was a dyed gown,
+when one had all that money in the bank and the big
+house on the hill in prospect! Reuben&#8217;s best
+suit grew rusty and seedy, but the man patiently,
+even gleefully, wore it as long as it would hang together;
+and when the time came that new garments must be bought
+for both husband and wife, only the cheapest and flimsiest
+of material was purchased--but the money in the bank
+grew.</p>
+
+<p>Reuben never smoked. While other men used the fragrant
+weed to calm their weary brains and bodies, Reuben--ate
+peanuts. It had been a curious passion of his, from
+the time when as a boy he was first presented with
+a penny for his very own, to spend all his spare cash
+on this peculiar luxury; and the slow munching of
+this plebeian delicacy had the same soothing effect
+on him that a good cigar or an old clay pipe had upon
+his brother-man. But from the day of his marriage all
+this was changed; the dimes and the nickels bought
+no more peanuts, but went to swell the common fund.</p>
+
+<p>It is doubtful if even this heroic economy would have
+accomplished the desired end had not a certain railroad
+company cast envious eyes upon the level valley and
+forthwith sent long arms of steel bearing a puffing
+engine up through the quiet village. A large tract
+of waste land belonging to Reuben Gray suddenly became
+surprisingly valuable, and a sum that trebled twice
+over the scanty savings of years grew all in a night.</p>
+
+<p>One crisp October day, Mr. and Mrs. Reuben Gray awoke
+to the fact that they were a little under sixty years
+of age, and in possession of more than the big sum
+of money necessary to enable them to carry out the
+dreams of their youth. They began joyous preparations
+at once.</p>
+
+<p>The big brick house at the top of the hill had changed
+hands twice during the last forty years, and the present
+owner expressed himself as nothing loath to part,
+not only with the house itself, but with many of its
+furnishings; and before the winter snow fell the little
+brown cottage was sold to a thrifty young couple from
+the neighboring village, and the Grays took up their
+abode in their new home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, Em&#8217;ly, this is livin&#8217;, now,
+ain&#8217;t it?&#8221; said Reuben, as he carefully
+let himself down into the depths of a velvet-covered
+chair in the great parlor. &#8220;My! ain&#8217;t
+this nice!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just perfectly lovely,&#8221; quavered the
+thin voice of his wife, as she threw a surreptitious
+glance at Reuben&#8217;s shoes to see if they were
+quite clean enough for such sacred precincts.</p>
+
+<p>It was their first evening in their new abode, and
+they were a little weary, for they had spent the entire
+day in exploring every room, peering into every closet,
+and trying every chair that the establishment contained.
+It was still quite early when they trudged anxiously
+about the house, intent on fastening the numerous
+doors and windows.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear me!&#8221; exclaimed the little woman
+nervously, &#8220;I&#8217;m &#8217;most afraid to go
+to bed, Reuben, for fear some one will break in an&#8217;
+steal all these nice things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, you can sit up if you want to,&#8221;
+replied her husband dryly, &#8220;but I shall go to
+bed. Most of these things have been here nigh on to
+twenty years, an&#8217; I guess they&#8217;ll last
+the night through.&#8221; And he marched solemnly
+upstairs to the big east chamber, meekly followed by
+his wife.</p>
+
+<p>It was the next morning when Mrs. Gray was washing
+the breakfast dishes that her husband came in at the
+kitchen door and stood looking thoughtfully at her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, Emily,&#8221; said he, &#8220;you&#8217;d
+oughter have a hired girl. &#8217;T ain&#8217;t your
+place to be doin&#8217; work like this now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Gray gasped--half terrified, half pleased--and
+shook her head; but her husband was not to be silenced.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, you had--an&#8217; you&#8217;ve got to,
+too. An&#8217; you must buy some new clothes--lots
+of &#8217;em! Why, Em&#8217;ly, we&#8217;ve got heaps
+of money now, an&#8217; we hadn&#8217;t oughter wear
+such lookin&#8217; things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Emily nodded; she had thought of this before. And
+the hired-girl hint must have found a warm spot in
+her heart in which to grow, for that very afternoon
+she sallied forth, intent on a visit to her counselor
+on all occasions--the doctor&#8217;s wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, Mis&#8217; Steele, I don&#8217;t know
+what to do. Reuben says I ought to have a hired girl;
+but I hain&#8217;t no more idea where to get one than
+anything, an&#8217; I don&#8217;t know&#8217;s I want
+one, if I did.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. Gray sat back in her chair and rocked violently
+to and fro, eying her hostess with the evident consciousness
+of having presented a poser. That resourceful woman,
+however, was far from being nonplussed; she beamed
+upon her visitor with a joyful smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Just the thing, my dear Mrs. Gray! You know
+I am to go South with May for the winter. The house
+will be closed and the doctor at the hotel. I had
+just been wondering what to do with Nancy, for I want
+her again in the spring. Now, you can have her until
+then, and by that time you will know how you like
+the idea of keeping a girl. She is a perfect treasure,
+capable of carrying along the entire work of the household,
+only&#8221;--and Mrs. Steele paused long enough to
+look doubtfully at her friend--&#8220;she is a little
+independent, and won&#8217;t stand much interference.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen minutes later Mrs. Gray departed, well pleased
+though withal a little frightened. She spent the rest
+of the afternoon in trying to decide between a black
+alpaca and a green cashmere dress.</p>
+
+<p>That night Reuben brought home a large bag of peanuts
+and put them down in triumph on the kitchen table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; he announced in high glee, &#8220;I&#8217;m
+goin&#8217; to have a bang-up good time!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Reuben,&#8221; remonstrated his wife gently,
+&#8220;you can&#8217;t eat them things-- you hain&#8217;t
+got no teeth to chew &#8217;em with!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The man&#8217;s lower jaw dropped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m a-goin&#8217; to try it, anyhow,&#8221;
+he insisted. And try he did; but the way his poor
+old stomach rebelled against the half-masticated things
+effectually prevented a repetition of the feast.</p>
+
+<p>Early on Monday morning Nancy appeared. Mrs. Gray
+assumed a brave aspect, but she quaked in her shoes
+as she showed the big strapping girl to her room.
+Five minutes later Nancy came into the kitchen to find
+Mrs. Gray bending over an obstinate coal fire in the
+range--with neither coal nor range was the little
+woman in the least familiar.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, now,&#8221; said Nancy briskly, &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+fix that. You just tell me what you want for dinner,
+and I can find the things myself.&#8221; And she attacked
+the stove with such a clatter and din that Mrs. Gray
+retreated in terror, murmuring &#8220;ham and eggs,
+if you please,&#8221; as she fled through the door.
+Once in the parlor, she seated herself in the middle
+of the room and thought how nice it was not to get
+dinner; but she jumped nervously at every sound from
+the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>On Tuesday she had mastered her fear sufficiently
+to go into the kitchen and make a cottage cheese.
+She did not notice the unfavorable glances of her
+maid-of-all-work. Wednesday morning she spent happily
+puttering over &#8220;doing up&#8221; some handkerchiefs,
+and she wondered why Nancy kept banging the oven door
+so often. Thursday she made a special kind of pie that
+Reuben liked, and remarked pointedly to Nancy that
+she herself never washed dishes without wearing an
+extra apron; furthermore, she always placed the pans
+the other way in the sink. Friday she rearranged the
+tins on the pantry shelves, that Nancy had so unaccountably
+mussed up. On Saturday the inevitable explosion came:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you please, mum, I&#8217;m willin&#8217;
+to do your work, but seems to me it don&#8217;t make
+no difference to you whether I wear one apron or six,
+or whether I hang my dish-towels on a string or on
+the bars, or whether I wash goblets or kittles first;
+and I ain&#8217;t in the habit of havin&#8217; folks
+spyin&#8217; round on me. If you want me to go, I&#8217;ll
+go; but if I stay, I want to be let alone!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Poor little Mrs. Gray fled to her seat in the parlor,
+and for the rest of that winter she did not dare to
+call her soul her own; but her table was beautifully
+set and served, and her house was as neat as wax.</p>
+
+<p>The weeks passed and Reuben began to be restless.
+One day he came in from the post office fairly bubbling
+over with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, Em&#8217;ly, when folks have money they
+travel. Let&#8217;s go somewhere!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Reuben--where?&#8221; quavered his wife,
+dropping into the nearest chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I dunno,&#8221; with cheerful vagueness;
+then, suddenly animated, &#8220;Let&#8217;s go to
+Boston and see the sights!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Reuben, we don&#8217;t know no one there,&#8221;
+ventured his wife doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pooh! What if we don&#8217;t? Hain&#8217;t
+we got money? Can&#8217;t we stay at a hotel? Well,
+I guess we can!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And his overwhelming courage put some semblance of
+confidence into the more timid heart of his wife,
+until by the end of the week she was as eager as he.</p>
+
+<p>Nancy was tremblingly requested to take a two weeks&#8217;
+vacation, and great was the rejoicing when she graciously
+acquiesced.</p>
+
+<p>On a bright February morning the journey began. It
+was not a long one-- four hours only--and the time
+flew by as on wings of the wind. Reuben assumed an
+air of worldly wisdom, quite awe-inspiring to his wife.
+He had visited Boston as a boy, and so had a dim idea
+of what to expect; moreover, he had sold stock and
+produce in the large towns near his home, and on the
+whole felt quite self-sufficient.</p>
+
+<p>As the long train drew into the station, and they
+alighted and followed the crowd, Mrs. Gray looked
+with round eyes of wonder at the people--she had not
+realized that there were so many in the world, and
+she clung closer and closer to Reuben, who was marching
+along with a fine show of indifference.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There,&#8221; said he, as he deposited his
+wife and his bags in a seat in the huge waiting-room;
+&#8220;now you stay right here, an&#8217; don&#8217;t
+you move. I&#8217;m goin&#8217; to find out about
+hotels and things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He was gone so long that she was nearly fainting from
+fright before she spied his dear form coming toward
+her. His thin, plain face looked wonderfully beautiful
+to her, and she almost hugged him right before all
+those people.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;ve got a hotel all right; but
+I hain&#8217;t been here for so long I&#8217;ve kinder
+forgot about the streets, so the man said we&#8217;d
+better have a team to take us there.&#8221; And he
+picked up the bags and trudged off, closely followed
+by Emily.</p>
+
+<p>His shrewd Yankee wit carried him safely through a
+bargain with the driver, and they were soon jolting
+and rumbling along to their destination. He had asked
+the man behind the news-stand about a hotel, casually
+mentioning that he had money--plenty of it--and wanted
+a &#8220;bang-up good place.&#8221; The spirit of
+mischief had entered the heart of the news-man, and
+he had given Reuben the name of one of the very highest-priced,
+most luxurious hotels in the city.</p>
+
+<p>As the carriage stopped, Reuben marched boldly up
+the broad steps and entered the palatial office, with
+Emily close at his heels. Two bell-boys sprang forward--the
+one to take the bags, the other to offer to show Mrs.
+Gray to the reception-room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, thank you, I ain&#8217;t particular,&#8221;
+said she sweetly; &#8220;I&#8217;ll wait for Reuben
+here.&#8221; And she dropped into the nearest chair,
+while her husband advanced toward the desk. She noticed
+that men were looking curiously at her, and she felt
+relieved when Reuben and the pretty boy came back and
+said they would go up to their room.</p>
+
+<p>She stood the elevator pretty well, though she gave
+a little gasp (which she tried to choke into a cough)
+as it started. Reuben turned to the boy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where can I get somethin&#8217; to eat?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Luncheon is being served in the main dining-room
+on the first floor, sir.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Visions of a lunch as he knew it in Emily&#8217;s
+pantry came to him, and he looked a little dubious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;m pretty hungry; but if that&#8217;s
+all I can get I suppose it will have to do.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ten minutes later an officious head waiter, whom Emily
+looked upon with timid awe, was seating them in a
+superbly appointed dining-room. Reuben looked at the
+menu doubtfully, while an attentive, soft-voiced man
+at his elbow bent low to catch his order. Few of the
+strange-looking words conveyed any sort of meaning
+to the poor hungry man. At length spying &#8220;chicken&#8221;
+halfway down the card, he pointed to it in relief.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess I&#8217;ll take some of that,&#8221;
+he said, briefly; then he added, &#8220;I don&#8217;t
+know how much it costs--you hain&#8217;t got no price
+after it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The waiter comprehended at once.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The luncheon is served in courses, sir; you
+pay for the whole--whether you eat it or not,&#8221;
+he added shrewdly. &#8220;If you will let me serve
+you according to my judgment, sir, I think I can please
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And there the forlorn little couple sat, amazed and
+hungry, through six courses, each one of which seemed
+to their uneducated palate one degree worse than the
+last.</p>
+
+<p>Two hours later they started for a long walk down
+the wonderful, fascinating street. Each marvelous
+window display came in for its full share of attention,
+but they stood longest before bakeries and restaurants.
+Finally, upon coming to one of the latter, where an
+enticing sign announced &#8220;<i>Boiled Dinner To-day,
+Served Hot at All Hours</i>,&#8221; Reuben could
+endure it no longer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By Jinks, Em&#8217;ly, I&#8217;ve just got
+to have some of that. That stodged-up mess I ate at
+the hotel didn&#8217;t go to the spot at all. Come
+on, let&#8217;s have a good square meal.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The hotel knew them just one night. The next morning
+before breakfast Reuben manfully paid his--to him
+astounding--bill and departed for more congenial quarters,
+which they soon found on a neighboring side street.</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the visit was, of course, delightful,
+only the streets were pretty crowded and noisy, and
+they couldn&#8217;t sleep very well at night; moreover,
+Reuben lost his pocketbook with a small sum of money
+in it; so, on the whole, they concluded to go home
+a little before the two weeks ended.</p>
+
+<p>When spring came Nancy returned to her former mistress,
+and her vacant throne remained unoccupied. Little
+by little the dust gathered on the big velvet chairs
+in the parlor, and the room was opened less and less.
+When the first green things commenced to send tender
+shoots up through the wet, brown earth, Reuben&#8217;s
+restlessness was very noticeable. By and by he began
+to go off very early in the morning, returning at noon
+for a hasty dinner, then away again till night. To
+his wife&#8217;s repeated questioning he would reply,
+sheepishly, &#8220;Oh, just loafin&#8217;, that&#8217;s
+all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Emily was nervous, too. Of late she had taken
+a great fancy to a daily walk, and it always led in
+one direction--down past the little brown house. Of
+course, she glanced over the fence at the roses and
+lilacs, and she couldn&#8217;t help seeing that they
+all looked sadly neglected. By and by the weeds came,
+grew, and multiplied; and every time she passed the
+gate her throat fairly choked in sympathy with her
+old pets.</p>
+
+<p>Evenings, she and Reuben spent very happily on the
+back stoop, talking of their great good fortune in
+being able to live in such a fine large house. Somehow
+they said more than usual about it this spring, and
+Reuben often mentioned how glad he was that his wife
+didn&#8217;t have to dig in the garden any more; and
+Emily would reply that she, too, was glad that he
+was having so easy a time. Then they would look down
+at the little brown farmhouse and wonder how they
+ever managed to get along in so tiny a place.</p>
+
+<p>One day, in passing this same little house, Emily
+stopped a moment and leaned over the gate, that she
+might gain a better view of her favorite rosebush.</p>
+
+<p>She evinced the same interest the next two mornings,
+and on the third she timidly opened the gate and walked
+up the old path to the door. A buxom woman with a
+big baby in her arms, and a bigger one hanging to her
+skirts, answered her knock.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How do you do, Mis&#8217; Gray. Won&#8217;t
+you come in?&#8221; said she civilly, looking mildly
+surprised.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, thank you--yes--I mean--I came to see you,&#8221;
+stammered Emily confusedly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re very good,&#8221; murmured the
+woman, still standing in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your flowers are so pretty,&#8221; ventured
+Mrs. Gray, unable to keep the wistfulness out of her
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you think so?&#8221; carelessly; &#8220;I
+s&#8217;pose they need weedin&#8217;. What with my
+babies an&#8217; all, I don&#8217;t get much time for
+posies.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, please,--would it be too much trouble to
+let me come an&#8217; putter around in the beds?&#8221;
+queried the little woman eagerly. &#8220;Oh, I would
+like it so much!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The other laughed heartily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I really don&#8217;t see how it&#8217;s
+goin&#8217; to trouble me to have you weedin&#8217;
+my flowers; in fact, I should think the shoe would
+be on the other foot.&#8221; Then the red showed in
+her face a little. &#8220;You&#8217;re welcome to
+do whatever you want, Mis&#8217; Gray.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, thank you!&#8221; exclaimed Emily, as she
+quickly pulled up an enormous weed at her feet.</p>
+
+<p>It took but a few hours&#8217; work to bring about
+a wonderfully happy change in that forlorn garden,
+and then Mrs. Gray found that she had a big pile of
+weeds to dispose of. Filling her apron with a portion
+of them, she started to go behind the house in search
+of a garbage heap. Around the corner she came face
+to face with her husband, hoe in hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Reuben Gray! Whatever in the world are
+<i>you</i> doing?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the man was crushed with the enormity
+of his crime; then he caught sight of his wife&#8217;s
+dirt-stained fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I guess I ain&#8217;t doin&#8217; no
+worse than you be!&#8221; And he turned his back and
+began to hoe vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>Emily dropped the weeds where she stood, turned about,
+and walked through the garden and up the hill, pondering
+many things.</p>
+
+<p>Supper was strangely quiet that night. Mrs. Gray had
+asked a single question: &#8220;Reuben, do you want
+the little house back?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A glad light leaped into the old man&#8217;s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Em&#8217;ly--would you be willin&#8217; to?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>After the supper dishes were put away, Mrs. Gray,
+with a light shawl over her head, came to her husband
+on the back stoop.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, dear; I think we&#8217;d better go down
+to-night.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes later they sat stiffly in the best room
+of the farmhouse, while the buxom woman and her husband
+looked wonderingly at them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You wan&#8217;t thinkin&#8217; of sellin&#8217;,
+was ye?&#8221; began Reuben insinuatingly.</p>
+
+<p>The younger man&#8217;s eyelid quivered a little.
+&#8220;Well, no,--I can&#8217;t hardly say that I
+was. I hain&#8217;t but just bought.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Reuben hitched his chair a bit and glanced at Emily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, me and my wife have concluded that we&#8217;re
+too old to transplant-- we don&#8217;t seem to take
+root very easy--and we&#8217;ve been thinkin&#8217;--would
+you swap even, now?&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>It must have been a month later that Reuben Gray and
+his wife were contentedly sitting in the old familiar
+kitchen of the little brown house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been wondering, Reuben,&#8221; said
+his wife--&#8220;I&#8217;ve been wondering if &#8217;twouldn&#8217;t
+have been just as well if we&#8217;d taken some of
+the good things while they was goin&#8217;--before
+we got too old to enjoy &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes--peanuts, for instance,&#8221; acquiesced
+her husband ruefully.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_09"></a>In the Footsteps of Katy</h1>
+
+<p>Only Alma had lived--Alma, the last born. The other
+five, one after another, had slipped from loving,
+clinging arms into the great Silence, leaving worse
+than a silence behind them; and neither Nathan Kelsey
+nor his wife Mary could have told you which hurt the
+more,--the saying of a last good-bye to a stalwart,
+grown lad of twenty, or the folding of tiny, waxen
+hands over a heart that had not counted a year of beating.
+Yet both had fallen to their lot.</p>
+
+<p>As for Alma--Alma carried in her dainty self all the
+love, hopes, tenderness, ambitions, and prayers that
+otherwise would have been bestowed upon six. And Alma
+was coming home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary,&#8221; said Nathan one June evening,
+as he and his wife sat on the back porch, &#8220;I
+saw Jim Hopkins ter-day. Katy&#8217;s got home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m,&#8221;--the low rocker swayed gently
+to and fro,--&#8220;Katy&#8217;s been ter college,
+same as Alma, ye know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; an&#8217;--an&#8217; that&#8217;s what
+Jim was talkin&#8217; &#8216;bout He was feelin&#8217;
+bad-powerful bad.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bad!&#8221;--the rocker stopped abruptly. &#8220;Why,
+Nathan!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; he--&#8221; There was a pause, then the
+words came with the rush of desperation. &#8220;He
+said home wan&#8217;t like home no more. That Katy
+was as good as gold, an&#8217; they was proud of her;
+but she was turrible upsettin&#8217;. Jim has ter
+rig up nights now ter eat supper--put on his coat an&#8217;
+a b&#8217;iled collar; an&#8217; he says he&#8217;s
+got so he don&#8217;t dast ter open his head. They&#8217;re
+all so, too--Mis&#8217; Hopkins, an&#8217; Sue, an&#8217;
+Aunt Jane--don&#8217;t none of &#8217;em dast ter
+speak.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Nathan!--why not?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Cause of--Katy. Jim says there don&#8217;t nothin&#8217;
+they say suit Katy--&#8217;bout its wordin&#8217;,
+I mean. She changes it an&#8217; tells &#8217;em what
+they&#8217;d orter said.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, the saucy little baggage!&#8221;--the
+rocker resumed its swaying, and Mary Kelsey&#8217;s
+foot came down on the porch floor with decided, rhythmic
+pats.</p>
+
+<p>The man stirred restlessly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But she ain&#8217;t sassy, Mary,&#8221; he
+demurred. &#8220;Jim says Katy&#8217;s that sweet
+an&#8217; pleasant about it that ye can&#8217;t do
+nothin&#8217;. She tells &#8217;em she&#8217;s kerrectin&#8217;
+&#8217;em fur their own good, an&#8217; that they need
+culturin&#8217;. An&#8217; Jim says she spends all
+o&#8217; meal-time tellin&#8217; &#8217;bout the things
+on the table, --salt, an&#8217; where folks git it,
+an&#8217; pepper, an&#8217; tumblers, an&#8217; how
+folks make &#8217;em. He says at first &#8216;twas
+kind o&#8217; nice an&#8217; he liked ter hear it;
+but now, seems as if he hain&#8217;t got no appetite
+left ev&#8217;ry time he sets down ter the table.
+He don&#8217;t relish eatin&#8217; such big words an&#8217;
+queer names.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; that ain&#8217;t all,&#8221; resumed
+Nathan, after a pause for breath. &#8220;Jim can&#8217;t
+go hoein&#8217; nor diggin&#8217; but she&#8217;ll
+foller him an&#8217; tell &#8217;bout the bugs an&#8217;
+worms he turns up,--how many legs they&#8217;ve got,
+an&#8217; all that. An&#8217; the moon ain&#8217;t
+jest a moon no more, an&#8217; the stars ain&#8217;t
+stars. They&#8217;re sp&#8217;eres an&#8217; planets
+with heathenish names an&#8217; rings an&#8217; orbits.
+Jim feels bad--powerful bad--&#8217;bout it, an&#8217;
+he says he can&#8217;t see no way out of it. He knows
+they hain&#8217;t had much schooling any of &#8217;em,
+only Katy, an&#8217; he says that sometimes he &#8217;most
+wishes that--that she hadn&#8217;t, neither.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nathan Kelsey&#8217;s voice had sunk almost to a whisper,
+and with the last words his eyes sent a furtive glance
+toward the stoop-shouldered little figure in the low
+rocker. The chair was motionless now, and its occupant
+sat picking at a loose thread in the gingham apron.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I wouldn&#8217;t &#8216;a&#8217; spoke of
+it,&#8221; stammered the man, with painful hesitation,
+&#8220;only--well, ye see, I--you-&#8221; he stopped
+helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; faltered the little woman. &#8220;You
+was thinkin&#8217; of--Alma.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She wouldn&#8217;t do it--Alma wouldn&#8217;t!&#8221;
+retorted the man sharply, almost before his wife had
+ceased speaking.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no, of course not; but--Nathan, ye <i>don&#8217;t</i>
+think Alma&#8217;d ever be--<i>ashamed</i> of
+us, do ye?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Course not!&#8221; asserted Nathan,
+but his voice shook. &#8220;Don&#8217;t ye worry,
+Mary,&#8221; he comforted. &#8220;Alma ain&#8217;t
+a-goin&#8217; ter do no kerrectin&#8217; of us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nathan, I--I think that&#8217;s &#8216;co-rectin&#8217;,&#8217;&#8221;
+suggested the woman, a little breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>The man turned and gazed at his wife without speaking.
+Then his jaw fell.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, by sugar, Mary! <i>You</i> ain&#8217;t
+a-goin&#8217; ter begin it, be ye?&#8221; he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, no, &#8216;course not!&#8221; she laughed
+confusedly. &#8220;An&#8217;--an&#8217; Alma wouldn&#8217;t.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Course Alma wouldn&#8217;t,&#8221; echoed
+her husband. &#8220;Come, it&#8217;s time ter shut
+up the house.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The date of Alma&#8217;s expected arrival was yet
+a week ahead.</p>
+
+<p>As the days passed, there came a curious restlessness
+to the movements of both Nathan and his wife. It was
+on the last night of that week of waiting that Mrs.
+Kelsey spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nathan,&#8221; she began, with forced courage,
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve been over to Mis&#8217; Hopkins&#8217;s--an&#8217;
+asked her what special things &#8217;twas that Katy
+set such store by. I thought mebbe if we knew &#8217;em
+beforehand, an&#8217; could do &#8217;em, an&#8217;--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s jest what I asked Jim ter-day,
+Mary,&#8221; cut in Nathan excitedly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nathan, you didn&#8217;t, now! Oh, I&#8217;m
+so glad! An&#8217; we&#8217;ll do &#8217;em, won&#8217;t
+we?-- jest ter please her?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Course we will!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye see it&#8217;s four years since she was
+here, Nathan, what with her teachin&#8217; summers.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sugar, now! Is it? It hain&#8217;t seemed so
+long.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nathan,&#8221; interposed Mrs. Kelsey, anxiously,
+&#8220;I think that &#8216;hain&#8217;t&#8217; ain&#8217;t--I
+mean <i>aren&#8217;t</i> right. I think you&#8217;d
+orter say, &#8217;It haven&#8217;t seemed so long.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The man frowned, and made an impatient gesture.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes, I know,&#8221; soothed his wife;
+&#8220;but,--well, we might jest as well begin now
+an&#8217; git used to it. Mis&#8217; Hopkins said that
+them two words, &#8216;hain&#8217;t an&#8217; &#8217;ain&#8217;t,
+was what Katy hated most of anythin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; Jim mentioned &#8217;em, too,&#8221; acknowledged
+Nathan gloomily. &#8220;But he said that even them
+wan&#8217;t half so bad as his riggin&#8217; up nights.
+He said that Katy said that after the &#8216;toil
+of the day&#8217; they must &#8217;don fresh garments
+an&#8217; come ter the evenin&#8217; meal with minds
+an&#8217; bodies refreshed.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; an&#8217;, Nathan, ain&#8217;t my black
+silk--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ahem! I&#8217;m a-thinkin&#8217; it wa&#8217;n&#8217;t
+me that said &#8216;ain&#8217;t&#8217; that time,&#8221;
+interposed Nathan.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear, dear, Nathan!--did I? Oh, dear, what
+<i>will</i> Alma say?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It don&#8217;t make no diff&#8217;rence what
+Alma says, Mary. Don&#8217;t ye fret,&#8221; returned
+the man with sudden sharpness, as he rose to his feet.
+&#8220;I guess Alma&#8217;ll have ter take us &#8217;bout
+as we be--&#8217;bout as we be.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was Nathan who asked, just as his wife was
+dropping off to sleep that night:--</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mary, is it three o&#8217; them collars I&#8217;ve
+got, or four?--b&#8217;iled ones, I mean.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At five o&#8217;clock the next afternoon Mrs. Kelsey
+put on the treasured black silk dress, sacred for
+a dozen years to church, weddings, and funerals. Nathan,
+warm and uncomfortable in his Sunday suit and stiff
+collar, had long since driven to the station for Alma.
+The house, brushed and scrubbed into a state of speckless
+order, was thrown wide open to welcome the returning
+daughter. At a quarter before six she came.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, you darling!&#8221; cried a voice,
+and Mrs. Kelsey found herself in the clasp of strong
+young arms, and gazing into a flushed, eager face.
+&#8220;Don&#8217;t you look good! And doesn&#8217;t
+everything look good!&#8221; finished the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Does it--I mean, <i>do</i> it?&#8221;
+quavered the little woman excitedly. &#8220;Oh, Alma,
+I <i>am</i> glad ter see ye!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Behind Alma&#8217;s back Nathan flicked a bit of dust
+from his coat. The next instant he raised a furtive
+hand and gave his collar and neckband a savage pull.</p>
+
+<p>At the supper-table that night ten minutes of eager
+questioning on the part of Alma had gone by before
+Mrs. Kelsey realized that thus far their conversation
+had been of nothing more important than Nathan&#8217;s
+rheumatism, her own health, and the welfare of Rover,
+Tabby, and the mare Topsy. Commensurate with the happiness
+that had been hers during those ten minutes came now
+her remorse. She hastened to make amends.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, Alma, I beg yer pardon, I&#8217;m
+sure. I hain&#8217;t--er--I <i>haven&#8217;t</i>
+meant ter keep ye talkin&#8217; on such triflin&#8217;
+things, dear. Now talk ter us yer self. Tell us about
+things--anythin&#8217;--anythin&#8217; on the table
+or in the room,&#8221; she finished feverishly.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the merry-faced girl stared in frank
+amazement at her mother; then she laughed gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;On the table? In the room?&#8221; she retorted.
+&#8220;Well, it&#8217;s the dearest room ever, and
+looks so good to me! As for the table--the rolls are
+feathers, the coffee is nectar, and the strawberries--well,
+the strawberries are just strawberries--they couldn&#8217;t
+be nicer.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Alma, but I didn&#8217;t mean----&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tut, tut, tut!&#8221; interrupted Alma laughingly.
+&#8220;Just as if the cook didn&#8217;t like her handiwork
+praised! Why, when I draw a picture--oh, and I haven&#8217;t
+told you!&#8221; she broke off excitedly. The next
+instant she was on her feet. &#8220;Alma Mead Kelsey,
+Illustrator; at your service,&#8221; she announced
+with a low bow. Then she dropped into her seat again
+and went on speaking.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see, I&#8217;ve been doing this sort of
+thing for some time,&#8221; she explained, &#8220;and
+have had some success in selling. My teacher has always
+encouraged me, and, acting on his advice, I stayed
+over in New York a week with a friend, and took some
+of my work to the big publishing houses. That&#8217;s
+why I didn&#8217;t get here as soon as Kate Hopkins
+did. I hated to put off my coming; but now I&#8217;m
+so glad I did. Only think! I sold every single thing,
+and I have orders and orders ahead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, by sugar!&#8221; ejaculated the man at
+the head of the table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh-h-h!&#8221; breathed the little woman opposite.
+&#8220;Oh, Alma, I&#8217;m so glad!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In spite of Mrs. Kelsey&#8217;s protests that night
+after supper, Alma tripped about the kitchen and pantry
+wiping the dishes and putting them away. At dusk father,
+mother, and daughter seated themselves on the back
+porch.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; sighed Alma. &#8220;Isn&#8217;t
+this restful? And isn&#8217;t that moon glorious?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kelsey shot a quick look at her husband; then
+she cleared her throat nervously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Er--yes,&#8221; she assented. &#8220;I--I s&#8217;pose
+you know what it&#8217;s made of, an&#8217; how big
+&#8216;tis, an&#8217;--an&#8217; what there is on it,
+don&#8217;t ye, Alma?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Alma raised her eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m; well, there are still a few points that
+I and the astronomers haven&#8217;t quite settled,&#8221;
+she returned, with a whimsical smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; the stars, they&#8217;ve got names,
+I s&#8217;pose--every one of &#8217;em,&#8221; proceeded
+Mrs. Kelsey, so intent on her own part that Alma&#8217;s
+reply passed unnoticed.</p>
+
+<p>Alma laughed; then she assumed an attitude of mock
+rapture, and quoted:</p>
+
+<p class="verse">&#160;&#160;&#8220;&#8217;Scintillate, scintillate, globule vivific,<br />
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Fain would I fathom thy nature specific;<br />
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Loftily poised in ether capacious,<br />
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Strongly resembling the gem carbonaceous.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence. Alma&#8217;s eyes were on
+the flying clouds.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Would--would you mind saying that again, Alma?&#8221;
+asked Mrs. Kelsey at last timidly.</p>
+
+<p>Alma turned with a start.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Saying what, dearie?--oh, that nonsensical
+verse? Of course not! That&#8217;s only another way
+of saying &#8216;twinkle, twinkle, little star.&#8217;
+Means just the same, only uses up a few more letters
+to make the words. Listen.&#8221; And she repeated
+the two, line for line.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; said her mother faintly. &#8220;Er--thank
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I guess I&#8217;ll go to bed,&#8221; announced
+Nathan Kelsey suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Alma&#8217;s pleadings were in vain.
+Mrs. Kelsey insisted that Alma should go about her
+sketching, leaving the housework for her own hands
+to perform. With a laughing protest and a playful pout,
+Alma tucked her sketchbook under her arm and left
+the house to go down by the river. In the field she
+came upon her father.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hard at work, dad?&#8221; she called affectionately.
+&#8220;Old Mother Earth won&#8217;t yield her increase
+without just so much labor, will she?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That she won&#8217;t,&#8221; laughed the man.
+Then he flushed a quick red and set a light foot on
+a crawling thing of many legs which had emerged from
+beneath an overturned stone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; cried Alma. &#8220;Your foot, father--your&#8217;re
+crushing something!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The flush grew deeper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I guess not,&#8221; rejoined the man, lifting
+his foot, and giving a curiously resigned sigh as
+he sent an apprehensive glance into the girl&#8217;s
+face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear, dear! isn&#8217;t he funny?&#8221; murmured
+the girl, bending low and giving a gentle poke with
+the pencil in her hand. &#8220;Only fancy,&#8221; she
+added, straightening herself, &#8220;only fancy if
+we had so many feet. Just picture the size of our
+shoe bill!&#8221; And she laughed and turned away.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, by gum!&#8221; ejaculated the man, looking
+after her. Then he fell to work, and his whistle,
+as he worked, carried something of the song of a bird
+set free from a cage.</p>
+
+<p>A week passed.</p>
+
+<p>The days were spent by Alma in roaming the woods and
+fields, pencil and paper in hand; they were spent
+by her mother in the hot kitchen over a hotter stove.
+To Alma&#8217;s protests and pleadings Mrs. Kelsey
+was deaf. Alma&#8217;s place was not there, her work
+was not housework, declared Alma&#8217;s mother.</p>
+
+<p>On Mrs. Kelsey the strain was beginning to tell. It
+was not the work alone--though that was no light matter,
+owing to her anxiety that Alma&#8217;s pleasure and
+comfort should find nothing wanting--it was more than
+the work.</p>
+
+<p>Every night at six the anxious little woman, flushed
+from biscuit-baking and chicken-broiling and almost
+sick with fatigue, got out the black silk gown and
+the white lace collar and put them on with trembling
+hands. Thus robed in state she descended to the supper-table,
+there to confront her husband still more miserable
+in the stiff collar and black coat.</p>
+
+<p>Nor yet was this all. Neither the work nor the black
+silk dress contained for Mrs. Kelsey quite the possibilities
+of soul torture that were to be found in the words
+that fell from her lips. As the days passed, the task
+the little woman had set for herself became more and
+more hopeless, until she scarcely could bring herself
+to speak at all, so stumbling and halting were her
+sentences.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the eighth day came the culmination
+of it all. Alma, her nose sniffing the air, ran into
+the kitchen that night to find no one in the room,
+and the biscuits burning in the oven. She removed the
+biscuits, threw wide the doors and windows, then hurried
+upstairs to her mother&#8217;s room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, mother!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kelsey stood before the glass, a deep flush on
+her cheeks and tears rolling down her face. Two trembling
+hands struggled with the lace at her throat until
+the sharp point of a pin found her thumb and left a
+tiny crimson stain on the spotlessness of the collar.
+It was then that Mrs. Kelsey covered her face with
+her hands and sank into the low chair by the bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, mother!&#8221; cried Alma again, hurrying
+across the room and dropping on her knees at her mother&#8217;s
+side.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t, Alma, I can&#8217;t!&#8221;
+moaned the woman. &#8220;I&#8217;ve tried an&#8217;
+tried; but I&#8217;ve got ter give up, I&#8217;ve
+got ter give up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t what, dearie?--give up what?&#8221;
+demanded Alma.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Kelsey shook her head. Then she dropped her hands
+and looked fearfully into her daughter&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; yer father, too, Alma--he&#8217;s
+tried, an&#8217; he can&#8217;t,&#8221; she choked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tried what? What <i>do</i> you mean?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With her eyes on Alma&#8217;s troubled, amazed face,
+Mrs. Kelsey made one last effort to gain her lost
+position. She raised her shaking hands to her throat
+and fumbled for the pin and the collar.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dear, don&#8217;t fret,&#8221;
+she stammered. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t think what I
+was sayin&#8217;. It ain&#8217;t nothin&#8217;--I mean,
+it <i>aren&#8217;t</i> nothin&#8217;--it <i>am</i>
+not--oh-h!&#8221; she sobbed; &#8220;there, ye see,
+Alma, I can&#8217;t, I can&#8217;t. It ain&#8217;t
+no more use ter try!&#8221; Down went the gray head
+on Alma&#8217;s strong young shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dear, cry away,&#8221; comforted
+Alma, with loving pats. &#8220;It will do you good;
+then we&#8217;ll hear what this is all about, from
+the very beginning.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. Kelsey told her--and from the very beginning.
+When the telling was over, and the little woman, a
+bit breathless and frightened, sat awaiting what Alma
+would say, there came a long silence.</p>
+
+<p>Alma&#8217;s lips were close shut. Alma was not quite
+sure, if she opened them, whether there would come
+a laugh or a sob. The laugh was uppermost and almost
+parted the firm-set lips, when a side glance at the
+quivering face of the little woman in the big chair
+turned the laugh into a half-stifled sob. Then Alma
+spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, dear, listen. Do you think a silk dress
+and a stiff collar can make you and father any dearer
+to me? Do you think an &#8216;ain&#8217;t&#8217; or
+a &#8216;hain&#8217;t&#8217; can make me love either
+of you any less? Do you suppose I expect you, after
+fifty years&#8217; service for others, to be as careful
+in your ways and words as if you&#8217;d spent those
+fifty years in training yourself instead of in training
+six children? Why, mother, dear, do you suppose that
+I don&#8217;t know that for twenty of those years you
+have had no thoughts, no prayers, save for me?--that
+I have been the very apple of your eye? Well, it&#8217;s
+my turn, now, and you are the apple of my eye--you
+and father. Why, dearie, you have no idea of the plans
+I have for you. There&#8217;s a good strong woman
+coming next week for the kitchen work. Oh, it&#8217;s
+all right,&#8221; assured Alma, quickly, in response
+to the look on her mother&#8217;s face. &#8220;Why,
+I&#8217;m rich! Only think of those orders! And then
+you shall dress in silk or velvet, or calico--anything
+you like, so long as it doesn&#8217;t scratch nor
+prick,&#8221; she added merrily, bending forward and
+fastening the lace collar. &#8220;And you shall----&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ma-ry?&#8221; It was Nathan at the foot of
+the back stairway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Nathan.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ain&#8217;t it &#8217;most supper-time?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bless my soul!&#8221; cried Mrs. Kelsey, springing
+to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217;, Mary----&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hain&#8217;t I got a collar--a b&#8217;iled
+one, on the bureau up there?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; called Alma, snatching up the collar
+and throwing it on the bed. &#8220;There isn&#8217;t
+a sign of one there. Suppose you let it go to-night,
+dad?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, if you don&#8217;t mind!&#8221; And a
+very audible sigh of relief floated up the back stairway.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_10"></a>The Bridge Across the Years</h1>
+
+<p>John was expected on the five o&#8217;clock stage.
+Mrs. John had been there three days now, and John&#8217;s
+father and mother were almost packed up--so Mrs. John
+said. The auction would be to-morrow at nine o&#8217;clock,
+and with John there to see that things &#8220;hustled&#8221;--which
+last was really unnecessary to mention, for John&#8217;s
+very presence meant &#8220;hustle&#8221;--with John
+there, then, the whole thing ought to be over by one
+o&#8217;clock, and they off in season to &#8217;catch
+the afternoon express.</p>
+
+<p>And what a time it had been--those three days!</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. John, resting in the big chair on the front porch,
+thought of those days with complacency--that they
+were over. Grandpa and Grandma Burton, hovering over
+old treasures in the attic, thought of them with terrified
+dismay--that they had ever begun.</p>
+
+<p>I am coming up on Tuesday [Mrs. John had written].
+We have been thinking for some time that you and father
+ought not to be left alone up there on the farm any
+longer. Now don&#8217;t worry about the packing. I
+shall bring Marie, and you won&#8217;t have to lift
+your finger. John will come Thursday night, and be
+there for the auction on Friday. By that time we shall
+have picked out what is worth saving, and everything
+will be ready for him to take matters in hand. I think
+he has already written to the auctioneer, so tell
+father to give himself no uneasiness on that score.</p>
+
+<p>John says he thinks we can have you back here with
+us by Friday night, or Saturday at the latest. You
+know John&#8217;s way, so you may be sure there will
+be no tiresome delay. Your rooms here will be all ready
+before I leave, so that part will be all right.</p>
+
+<p>This may seem a bit sudden to you, but you know we
+have always told you that the time was surely coming
+when you couldn&#8217;t live alone any longer. John
+thinks it has come now; and, as I said before, you
+know John, so, after all, you won&#8217;t be surprised
+at his going right ahead with things. We shall do
+everything possible to make you comfortable, and I
+am sure you will be very happy here.</p>
+
+<p>Good-bye, then, until Tuesday. With love to both of
+you.</p>
+
+<p style="font-variant: small-caps;text-align: right">Edith.</p>
+
+<p>That had been the beginning. To Grandpa and Grandma
+Burton it had come like a thunderclap on a clear day.
+They had known, to be sure, that son John frowned
+a little at their lonely life; but that there should
+come this sudden transplanting, this ruthless twisting
+and tearing up of roots that for sixty years had been
+burrowing deeper and deeper--it was almost beyond
+one&#8217;s comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>And there was the auction!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We shan&#8217;t need that, anyway,&#8221; Grandma
+Burton had said at once. &#8220;What few things we
+don&#8217;t want to keep I shall give away. An auction,
+indeed! Pray, what have we to sell?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m! To be sure, to be sure,&#8221; her husband
+had murmured; but his face was troubled, and later
+he had said, apologetically: &#8220;You see, Hannah,
+there&#8217;s the farm things. We don&#8217;t need
+them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>On Tuesday night Mrs. John and the somewhat awesome
+Maria--to whom Grandpa and Grandma Burton never could
+learn not to curtsy--arrived; and almost at once Grandma
+Burton discovered that not only &#8220;farm things,&#8221;
+but such precious treasures as the hair wreath and
+the parlor--set were auctionable. In fact, everything
+the house contained, except their clothing and a few
+crayon portraits, seemed to be in the same category.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, mother, dear,&#8221; Mrs. John had returned,
+with a laugh, in response to Grandma Burton&#8217;s
+horrified remonstrances, &#8220;just wait until you
+see your rooms, and how full they are of beautiful
+things, and then you&#8217;ll understand.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But they won&#8217;t be--these,&#8221; the
+old voice had quavered.</p>
+
+<p>And Mrs. John had laughed again, and had patted her
+mother-in-law&#8217;s cheek, and had echoed-but with
+a different shade of meaning--&#8220;No, they certainly
+won&#8217;t be these!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the attic now, on a worn black trunk, sat the little
+old man, and down on the floor before an antiquated
+cradle knelt his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They was all rocked in it, Seth,&#8221; she
+was saying,--&#8220;John and the twins and my two
+little girls; and now there ain&#8217;t any one left
+only John--and the cradle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, Hannah, but you ain&#8217;t <i>usin&#8217;</i>
+that nowadays, so you don&#8217;t really need it,&#8221;
+comforted the old man. &#8220;But there&#8217;s my
+big chair now-- seems as though we jest oughter take
+that. Why, there ain&#8217;t a day goes by that I
+don&#8217;t set in it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But John&#8217;s wife says there&#8217;s better
+ones there, Seth,&#8221; soothed the old woman in
+her turn, &#8220;as much as four or five of &#8217;em
+right in our rooms.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So she did, so she did!&#8221; murmured the
+man. &#8220;I&#8217;m an ongrateful thing; so I be.&#8221;
+ There was a long pause. The old man drummed with his
+fingers on the trunk and watched a cloud sail across
+the skylight. The woman gently swung the cradle to
+and fro. &#8220;If only they wan&#8217;t goin&#8217;
+ter be--sold!&#8221; she choked, after a time. &#8220;I
+like ter know that they&#8217;re where I can look
+at &#8217;em, an&#8217; feel of &#8217;em, an&#8217;--an&#8217;
+remember things. Now there&#8217;s them quilts with
+all my dress pieces in &#8217;em--a piece of most every
+dress I&#8217;ve had since I was a girl; an&#8217;
+there&#8217;s that hair wreath--seems as if I jest
+couldn&#8217;t let that go, Seth. Why, there&#8217;s
+your hair, an&#8217; John&#8217;s, an&#8217; some
+of the twins&#8217;, an&#8217;--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dear; now I jest wouldn&#8217;t
+fret,&#8221; cut in the old man quickly. &#8220;Like
+enough when you get used ter them other things on the
+wall you&#8217;ll like &#8217;em even better than the
+hair wreath. John&#8217;s wife says she&#8217;s taken
+lots of pains an&#8217; fixed &#8217;em up with pictures
+an&#8217; curtains an&#8217; everythin&#8217; nice,&#8221;
+went on Seth, talking very fast. &#8220;Why, Hannah,
+it&#8217;s you that&#8217;s bein&#8217; ongrateful
+now, dear!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So &#8217;tis, so &#8216;tis, Seth, an&#8217;
+it ain&#8217;t right an&#8217; I know it. I ain&#8217;t
+a-goin&#8217; ter do so no more; now see!&#8221;
+And she bravely turned her back on the cradle and
+walked, head erect, toward the attic stairs.</p>
+
+<p>John came at five o&#8217;clock. He engulfed the little
+old man and the little old woman in a bearlike hug,
+and breezily demanded what they had been doing to
+themselves to make them look so forlorn. In the very
+next breath, however, he answered his own question,
+and declared it was because they had been living all
+cooped up alone so long--so it was; and that it was
+high time it was stopped, and that he had come to do
+it! Whereupon the old man and the old woman smiled
+bravely and told each other what a good, good son
+they had, to be sure!</p>
+
+<p>Friday dawned clear, and not too warm--an ideal auction-day.
+Long before nine o&#8217;clock the yard was full of
+teams and the house of people. Among them all, however,
+there was no sign of the bent old man and the erect
+little old woman, the owners of the property to be
+sold. John and Mrs. John were not a little disturbed--they
+had lost their father and mother.</p>
+
+<p>Nine o&#8217;clock came, and with it began the strident
+call of the auctioneer. Men laughed and joked over
+their bids, and women looked on and gossiped, adding
+a bid of their own now and then. Everywhere was the
+son of the house, and things went through with a rush.
+Upstairs, in the darkest corner of the attic--which
+had been cleared of goods--sat, hand in hand on an
+old packing-box, a little old man and a little old
+woman who winced and shrank together every time the
+&#8220;Going, going, gone!&#8221; floated up to them
+from the yard below.</p>
+
+<p>At half-past one the last wagon rumbled out of the
+yard, and five minutes later Mrs. John gave a relieved
+cry.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, there you are! Why, mother, father, where
+<i>have</i> you been?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply. The old man choked back a cough
+and bent to flick a bit of dust from his coat. The
+old woman turned and crept away, her erect little
+figure looking suddenly bent and old.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, what--&#8221; began John, as his father,
+too, turned away. &#8220;Why, Edith, you don&#8217;t
+suppose--&#8221; He stopped with a helpless frown.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perfectly natural, my dear, perfectly natural,&#8221;
+returned Mrs. John lightly. &#8220;We&#8217;ll get
+them away immediately. It&#8217;ll be all right when
+once they are started.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Some hours later a very tired old man and a still
+more tired old woman crept into a pair of sumptuous,
+canopy-topped twin beds. There was only one remark.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Seth, mine ain&#8217;t feathers a mite!
+Is yours?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply. Tired nature had triumphed--Seth
+was asleep.</p>
+
+<p>They made a brave fight, those two. They told themselves
+that the chairs were easier, the carpets softer, and
+the pictures prettier than those that had gone under
+the hammer that day as they sat hand in hand in the
+attic. They assured each other that the unaccustomed
+richness of window and bed hangings and the profusion
+of strange vases and statuettes did not make them
+afraid to stir lest they soil or break something. They
+insisted to each other that they were not homesick,
+and that they were perfectly satisfied as they were.
+And yet--</p>
+
+<p>When no one was looking Grandpa Burton tried chair
+after chair, and wondered why there was only one particular
+chair in the whole world that just exactly &#8220;fitted;&#8221;
+and when the twilight hour came Grandma Burton wondered
+what she would give to be able just to sit by the old
+cradle and talk with the past.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>The newspapers said it was a most marvelous escape
+for the whole family. They gave a detailed account
+of how the beautiful residence of the Honorable John
+Burton, with all its costly furnishings, had burned
+to the ground, and of how the entire family was saved,
+making special mention of the honorable gentleman&#8217;s
+aged father and mother. No one was injured, fortunately,
+and the family had taken up a temporary residence
+in the nearest hotel. It was understood that Mr. Burton
+would begin rebuilding at once.</p>
+
+<p>The newspapers were right--Mr. Burton did begin rebuilding
+at once; in fact, the ashes of the Burton mansion
+were not cold before John Burton began to interview
+architects and contractors.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll be &#8217;way ahead of the old
+one,&#8221; he confided to his wife enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. John sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, dear,&#8221; she began plaintively;
+&#8220;but, don&#8217;t you see? it won&#8217;t be
+the same--it can&#8217;t be. Why, some of those things
+we&#8217;ve had ever since we were married. They seemed
+a part of me, John. I was used to them. I had grown
+up with some of them--those candlesticks of mamma&#8217;s,
+for instance, that she had when I was a bit of a baby.
+Do you think money can buy another pair that--that
+were <i>hers</i>?&#8221; And Mrs. John burst into
+tears.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, come, dear,&#8221; protested her husband,
+with a hasty caress and a nervous glance at the clock--he
+was due at the bank in ten minutes. &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+fret about what can&#8217;t be helped; besides"-and
+he laughed whimsically--&#8220;you must look out or
+you&#8217;ll be getting as bad as mother over her
+hair wreath!&#8221; And with another hasty pat on her
+shoulder he was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. John suddenly stopped her crying. She lowered
+her handkerchief and stared fixedly at an old print
+on the wall opposite. The hotel--though strictly modern
+in cuisine and management--was an old one, and prided
+itself on the quaintness of its old-time furnishings.
+Just what the print represented Mrs. John could not
+have told, though her eyes did not swerve from its
+face for five long minutes. What she did see was a
+silent, dismantled farmhouse, and a little old man
+and a little old woman with drawn faces and dumb lips.</p>
+
+<p>Was it possible? Had she, indeed, been so blind?</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. John rose to her feet, bathed her eyes, straightened
+her neck-bow, and crossed the hall to Grandma Burton&#8217;s
+room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, mother, and how are you getting along?&#8221;
+she asked cheerily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jest as nice as can be, daughter,--and ain&#8217;t
+this room pretty?&#8221; returned the little old woman
+eagerly. &#8220;Do you know, it seems kind of natural
+like; mebbe it&#8217;s because of that chair there.
+Seth says it&#8217;s almost like his at home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was a good beginning, and Mrs. John made the most
+of it. Under her skillful guidance Grandma Burton,
+in less than five minutes, had gone from the chair
+to the old clock which her father used to wind, and
+from the clock to the bureau where she kept the dead
+twins&#8217; little white shoes and bonnets. She told,
+too, of the cherished parlor chairs and marble-topped
+table, and of how she and father had saved and saved
+for years to buy them; and even now, as she talked,
+her voice rang with pride of possession--though only
+for a moment; it shook then with the remembrance of
+loss.</p>
+
+<p>There was no complaint, it is true, no audible longing
+for lost treasures. There was only the unwonted joy
+of pouring into sympathetic ears the story of things
+loved and lost--things the very mention of which brought
+sweet faint echoes of voices long since silent.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there,&#8221; broke off the little old
+woman at last, &#8220;how I am runnin&#8217; on! But,
+somehow, somethin&#8217; set me to talkin&#8217; ter-day.
+Mebbe&#8217;t was that chair that&#8217;s like yer
+father&#8217;s,&#8221; she hazarded.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe it was,&#8221; agreed Mrs. John quietly,
+as she rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>The new house came on apace. In a wonderfully short
+time John Burton began to urge his wife to see about
+rugs and hangings. It was then that Mrs. John called
+him to one side and said a few hurried but very earnest
+words--words that made the Honorable John open wide
+his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Edith,&#8221; he remonstrated, &#8220;are
+you crazy? It simply couldn&#8217;t be done! The things
+are scattered over half a dozen townships; besides,
+I haven&#8217;t the least idea where the auctioneer&#8217;s
+list is--if I saved it at all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind, dear; I may try, surely,&#8221;
+begged Mrs. John. And her husband laughed and reached
+for his check-book.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Try? Of course you may try! And here&#8217;s
+this by way of wishing you good luck,&#8221; he finished,
+as he handed her an oblong bit of paper that would
+go far toward smoothing the most difficult of ways.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You dear!&#8221; cried Mrs. John. &#8220;And
+now I&#8217;m going to work.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was at about this time that Mrs. John went away.
+The children were at college and boarding-school;
+John was absorbed in business and house-building,
+and Grandpa and Grandma Burton were contented and well
+cared for. There really seemed to be no reason why
+Mrs. John should not go away, if she wished--and she
+apparently did wish. It was at about this time, too,
+that certain Vermont villages--one of which was the
+Honorable John Burton&#8217;s birthplace--were stirred
+to sudden interest and action. A persistent, smiling-faced
+woman had dropped into their midst--a woman who drove
+from house to house, and who, in every case, left behind
+her a sworn ally and friend, pledged to serve her
+cause.</p>
+
+<p>Little by little, in an unused room in the village
+hotel there began to accumulate a motley collection--a
+clock, a marble-topped table, a cradle, a patchwork
+quilt, a bureau, a hair wreath, a chair worn with
+age and use. And as this collection grew in size and
+fame, only that family which could not add to it counted
+itself abused and unfortunate, so great was the spell
+that the persistent, smiling-faced woman had cast
+about her.</p>
+
+<p>Just before the Burton house was finished Mrs. John
+came back to town. She had to hurry a little about
+the last of the decorations and furnishings to make
+up for lost time; but there came a day when the place
+was pronounced ready for occupancy.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that Mrs. John hurried into Grandpa and
+Grandma Burton&#8217;s rooms at the hotel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, dears,&#8221; she said gayly. &#8220;The
+house is all ready, and we&#8217;re going home.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Done? So soon?&#8221; faltered Grandma Burton,
+who had not been told very much concerning the new
+home&#8217;s progress. &#8220;Why, how quick they have
+built it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a note of regret in the tremulous old voice,
+but Mrs. John did not seem to notice. The old man,
+too, rose from his chair with a long sigh--and again
+Mrs. John did not seem to notice.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, dearie, yes, it&#8217;s all very nice
+and fine,&#8221; said Grandma Burton wearily, half
+an hour later as she trudged through the sumptuous
+parlors and halls of the new house; &#8220;but, if
+you don&#8217;t mind, I guess I&#8217;ll go to my
+room, daughter. I&#8217;m tired--turrible tired.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Up the stairs and along the hall trailed the little
+procession--Mrs. John, John, the bent old man, and
+the little old woman. At the end of the hall Mrs.
+John paused a moment, then flung the door wide open.</p>
+
+<p>There was a gasp and a quick step forward; then came
+the sudden illumination of two wrinkled old faces.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;John! Edith!&#8221;--it was a cry of mingled
+joy and wonder.</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply. Mrs. John had closed the door
+and left them there with their treasures.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_11"></a>For Jimmy</h1>
+
+<p>Uncle Zeke&#8217;s pipe had gone out--sure sign that
+Uncle Zeke&#8217;s mind was not at rest. For five
+minutes the old man had occupied in frowning silence
+the other of my veranda rocking-chairs. As I expected,
+however, I had not long to wait.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I met old Sam Hadley an&#8217; his wife in
+the cemetery just now,&#8221; he observed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; I was careful to express just enough,
+and not too much, interest: one had to be circumspect
+with Uncle Zeke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m; I was thinkin&#8217;--&#8221; Uncle Zeke
+paused, shifted his position, and began again. This
+time I had the whole story.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was thinkin&#8217;--I don&#8217;t say that
+Jimmy did right, an&#8217; I don&#8217;t say that
+Jimmy did wrong. Maybe you can tell. &#8217;Twas like
+this:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In a way we all claimed Jimmy Hadley. As a
+little fellow, he was one of them big-eyed, curly-haired
+chaps that gets inside your heart no matter how tough&#8217;t
+is. An&#8217; we was really fond of him, too,--so fond
+of him that we didn&#8217;t do nothin&#8217; but jine
+in when his pa an&#8217; ma talked as if he was the
+only boy that ever was born, or ever would be--an&#8217;
+you know we must have been purty daft ter stood that,
+us bein&#8217; fathers ourselves!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, as was natural, perhaps, the Hadleys
+jest lived fer Jimmy. They&#8217;d lost three, an&#8217;
+he was all there was left. They wasn&#8217;t very well-to-do,
+but nothin&#8217; was too grand fer Jimmy, and when
+the boy begun ter draw them little pictures of his
+all over the shed an&#8217; the barn door, they was
+plumb crazy. There wan&#8217;t no doubt of it--Jimmy
+was goin&#8217; ter be famous, they said. He was goin&#8217;
+ter be one o&#8217; them painter fellows, an&#8217;
+make big money.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; Jimmy did work, even then. He stood
+well in his studies, an&#8217; worked outside, earnin&#8217;
+money so&#8217;s he could take drawin&#8217; lessons
+when he got bigger. An&#8217; by and by he did get
+bigger, an&#8217; he did take lessons down ter the
+Junction twice a week.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There wan&#8217;t no livin&#8217; with Mis&#8217;
+Hadley then, she was that proud; an&#8217; when he
+brought home his first picture, they say she never
+went ter bed at all that night, but jest set gloatin&#8217;
+over it till the sun came in an&#8217; made her kerosene
+lamp look as silly as she did when she saw &#8217;twas
+mornin&#8217;. There was one thing that plagued her,
+though: &#8217;twan&#8217;t painted-- that picture.
+Jimmy called it a &#8216;black an&#8217; white,&#8217;
+an&#8217; said &#8217;twan&#8217;t paintin&#8217;
+that he wanted ter do, but &#8217;lustratin&#8217;--fer
+books and magazines, you know. She felt hurt, an&#8217;
+all put out at first: but Jimmy told her &#8216;twas
+all right, an&#8217; that there was big money in it;
+so she got &#8217;round contented again. She couldn&#8217;t
+help it, anyhow, with Jimmy, he was that lovin&#8217;
+an&#8217; nice with her. He was the kind that&#8217;s
+always bringin&#8217; footstools and shawls, an&#8217;
+makin&#8217; folks comfortable. Everybody loved Jimmy.
+Even the cats an&#8217; dogs rubbed up against him
+an&#8217; wagged their tails at sight of him, an&#8217;
+the kids--goodness, Jimmy couldn&#8217;t cross the
+street without a dozen kids makin&#8217; a grand rush
+fer him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, time went on, an&#8217; Jimmy grew tall
+an&#8217; good lookin&#8217;. Then came the girl--an&#8217;
+she <i>was</i> a girl, too. &#8216;Course, Jimmy,
+bein&#8217; as how he&#8217;d had all the frostin&#8217;
+there was goin&#8217; on everythin&#8217; so fur, carried
+out the same idea in girls, an&#8217; picked out the
+purtiest one he could find-- rich old Townsend&#8217;s
+daughter, Bessie.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To the Hadleys this seemed all right--Jimmy
+was merely gettin&#8217; the best, as usual; but the
+rest of us, includin&#8217; old man Townsend, begun
+ter sit up an&#8217; take notice. The old man was mad
+clean through. He had other plans fer Bessie, an&#8217;
+he said so purty plain.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it seems there didn&#8217;t any of us--only
+Jimmy, maybe--take the girl herself into consideration.
+For a time she was a little skittish, an&#8217; led
+Jimmy a purty chase with her dancin&#8217; nearer an&#8217;
+nearer, an&#8217; then flyin&#8217; off out of reach.
+But at last she came out fair an&#8217; square fur
+Jimmy, an&#8217; they was as lively a pair of lovers
+as ye&#8217;d wish ter see. It looked, too, as if
+she&#8217;d even wheedle the old man &#8217;round ter
+her side of thinkin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The next thing we knew Jimmy had gone ter New
+York. He was ter study, an&#8217; at the same time
+pick up what work he could, ter turn an honest penny,
+the Hadleys said. We liked that in him. He was goin&#8217;
+ter make somethin&#8217; of himself, so&#8217;s he&#8217;d
+be worthy of Bessie Townsend or any other girl.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But&#8217;t was hard on the Hadleys. Jimmy&#8217;s
+lessons cost a lot, an&#8217; so did just livin&#8217;
+there in New York, an&#8217; &#8217;course Jimmy couldn&#8217;t
+pay fer it all, though I guess he worked nights an&#8217;
+Sundays ter piece out. Back home here the Hadleys
+scrimped an&#8217; scrimped till they didn&#8217;t
+have half enough ter eat, an&#8217; hardly enough
+ter cover their nakedness. But they didn&#8217;t mind--&#8217;t
+was fer Jimmy. He wrote often, an&#8217; told how he
+was workin&#8217;, an&#8217; the girl got letters,
+too; at least, Mis&#8217; Hadley said she did. An&#8217;
+once in a while he&#8217;d tell of some picture he&#8217;d
+finished, or what the teacher said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But by an&#8217; by the letters didn&#8217;t
+come so often. Sam told me about it at first, an&#8217;
+he said it plagued his wife a lot. He said she thought
+maybe Jimmy was gettin&#8217; discouraged, specially
+as he didn&#8217;t seem ter say much of anything about
+his work now. Sam owned up that the letters wan&#8217;t
+so free talkin&#8217;; an&#8217; that worried him.
+He was afraid the boy was keepin&#8217; back somethin&#8217;.
+He asked me, kind of sheepish-like, if I s&#8217;posed
+such a thing could be as that Jimmy had gone wrong,
+somehow. He knew cities was awful wicked an&#8217;
+temptin&#8217;, he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I laughed him out of that notion quick, an&#8217;
+I was honest in it, too. I&#8217;d have as soon suspected
+myself of goin&#8217; ter the bad as Jimmy, an&#8217;
+I told him so. Things didn&#8217;t look right, though.
+The letters got skurser an&#8217; skurser, an&#8217;
+I began ter think myself maybe somethin&#8217; was
+up. Then come the newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was me that took it over to the Hadleys.
+It was a little notice in my weekly, an&#8217; I spied
+it &#8217;way down in the corner just as I thought
+I had the paper all read. &#8217;Twan&#8217;t so much,
+but to us &#8217;twas a powerful lot; jest a little
+notice that they was glad ter see that the first prize
+had gone ter the talented young illustrator, James
+Hadley, an&#8217; that he deserved it, an&#8217; they
+wished him luck.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Hadleys were purty pleased, you&#8217;d
+better believe. They hadn&#8217;t seen it, &#8216;course,
+as they wan&#8217;t wastin&#8217; no money on weeklies
+them days. Sam set right down an&#8217; wrote, an&#8217;
+so did Mis&#8217; Hadley, right out of the fullness
+of their hearts. Mis&#8217; Hadley give me her letter
+ter read, she was that proud an&#8217; excited; an&#8217;
+&#8216;t was a good letter, all brimmin&#8217; over
+with love an&#8217; pride an&#8217; joy in his success.
+I could see just how Jimmy&#8217;d color up an&#8217;
+choke when he read it, specially where she owned up
+how she&#8217;d been gettin&#8217; purty near discouraged
+&#8217;cause they didn&#8217;t hear much from him,
+an&#8217; how she&#8217;d rather die than have her
+Jimmy fail.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, they sent off the letters, an&#8217;
+by an&#8217; by come the answer. It was kind of shy
+and stiff-like, an&#8217; I think it sort of disappointed
+&#8217;em; but they tried ter throw it off an&#8217;
+say that Jimmy was so modest he didn&#8217;t like
+ter take praise.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Course the whole town was interested,
+an&#8217; proud, too, ter think he belonged ter us;
+an&#8217; we couldn&#8217;t hear half enough about
+him. But as time went on we got worried. Things didn&#8217;t
+look right. The Hadleys was still scrimpin&#8217;,
+still sendin&#8217; money when they could, an&#8217;
+they owned up that Jimmy&#8217;s letters wan&#8217;t
+real satisfyin&#8217; an&#8217; that they didn&#8217;t
+come often, though they always told how hard he was
+workin&#8217;.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What was queerer still, every now an&#8217;
+then I&#8217;d see his name in my weekly. I looked
+fer it, I&#8217;ll own. I run across it once in the
+&#8216;Personals,&#8217; an&#8217; after that I hunted
+the paper all through every week. He went ter parties
+an&#8217; theaters, an&#8217; seemed ter be one of
+a gay crowd that was always havin&#8217; good times.
+I didn&#8217;t say nothin&#8217; ter the Hadleys about
+all this, &#8217;course, but it bothered me lots. What
+with all these fine doin&#8217;s, an&#8217; his not
+sendin&#8217; any money home, it looked as if the old
+folks didn&#8217;t count much now, an&#8217; that his
+head had got turned sure.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As time passed, things got worse an&#8217;
+worse. Sam lost two cows, an&#8217; Mis&#8217; Hadley
+grew thinner an&#8217; whiter, an&#8217; finally got
+down sick in her bed. Then I wrote. I told Jimmy purty
+plain how things was an&#8217; what I thought of him.
+I told him that there wouldn&#8217;t be any more money
+comin&#8217; from this direction (an&#8217; I meant
+ter see that there wan&#8217;t, too!), an&#8217; I
+hinted that if that &#8216;ere prize brought anythin&#8217;
+but honor, I should think &#8217;t would be a mighty
+good plan ter share it with the folks that helped
+him ter win it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was a sharp letter, an&#8217; when it was
+gone I felt &#8217;most sorry I&#8217;d sent it; an&#8217;
+when the answer come, I <i>was</i> sorry. Jimmy
+was all broke up, an&#8217; he showed it. He begged
+me ter tell him jest how his ma was; an&#8217; if
+they needed anythin&#8217;, ter get it and call on
+him. He said he wished the prize had brought him lots
+of money, but it hadn&#8217;t. He enclosed twenty-five
+dollars, however, and said he should write the folks
+not ter send him any more money, as he was goin&#8217;
+ter send it ter them now instead.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course I took the letter an&#8217; the money
+right over ter Sam, an&#8217; after they&#8217;d got
+over frettin&#8217; &#8217;cause I&#8217;d written
+at all, they took the money, an&#8217; I could see
+it made &#8217;em look ten years younger. After that
+you couldn&#8217;t come near either of &#8217;em that
+you didn&#8217;t hear how good Jimmy was an&#8217;
+how he was sendin&#8217; home money every week.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, it wan&#8217;t four months before I had
+ter write Jimmy again. Sam asked me too, this time.
+Mis&#8217; Hadley was sick again, an&#8217; Sam was
+worried. He thought Jimmy ought ter come home, but
+he didn&#8217;t like ter say so himself. He wondered
+if I wouldn&#8217;t drop him a hint. So I wrote, an&#8217;
+Jimmy wrote right away that he&#8217;d come.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We was all of a twitter, &#8217;course, then--the
+whole town. He&#8217;d got another prize--so the paper
+said--an&#8217; there was a paragraph praisin&#8217;
+up some pictures of his in the magazine. He was our
+Jimmy, an&#8217; we was proud of him, yet we couldn&#8217;t
+help wonderin&#8217; how he&#8217;d act. We wan&#8217;t
+used ter celebrities--not near to!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, he came. He was taller an&#8217; thinner
+than when he went away, an&#8217; there was a tired
+look in his eyes that went straight ter my heart.
+&#8216;Most the whole town was out ter meet him, an&#8217;
+that seemed ter bother him. He was cordial enough,
+in a way, but he seemed ter try ter avoid folks, an&#8217;
+he asked me right off ter get him &#8216;out of it.&#8217;
+I could see he wan&#8217;t hankerin&#8217; ter be
+made a lion of, so we got away soon&#8217;s we could
+an&#8217; went ter his home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You should have seen Mis&#8217; Hadley&#8217;s
+eyes when she saw him, tall an&#8217; straight in
+the doorway. And Sam--Sam cried like a baby, he was
+so proud of that boy. As fer Jimmy, his eyes jest
+shone, an&#8217; the tired look was all gone from
+them when he strode across the room an&#8217; dropped
+on his knees at his mother&#8217;s bedside with a
+kind of choking cry. I come away then, and left them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We was kind of divided about Jimmy, after that.
+We liked him, &#8217;most all of us, but we didn&#8217;t
+like his ways. He was too stand-offish, an&#8217; queer,
+an&#8217; we was all mad at the way he treated the
+girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Twas given out that the engagement was
+broken, but we didn&#8217;t believe &#8217;t was her
+done it, &#8216;cause up ter the last minute she&#8217;d
+been runnin&#8217; down ter the house with posies
+and goodies. Then <i>he</i> came, an&#8217; she
+stopped. He didn&#8217;t go there, neither, an&#8217;,
+so far as we knew, they hadn&#8217;t seen each other
+once. The whole town was put out. We didn&#8217;t
+relish seein&#8217; her thrown off like an old glove,
+jest &#8217;cause he was somebody out in the world
+now, an&#8217; could have his pick of girls with city
+airs and furbelows. But we couldn&#8217;t do nothin&#8217;,
+&#8217;cause he he <i>was</i> good ter his folks,
+an&#8217; no mistake, an&#8217; we did like that.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mis&#8217; Hadley got better in a couple of
+weeks, an&#8217; he begun ter talk of goin&#8217;
+back. We wanted ter give him a banquet an&#8217; speeches
+and a serenade, but he wouldn&#8217;t hear a word
+of it. He wouldn&#8217;t let us tell him how pleased
+we was at his success, either. The one thing he wouldn&#8217;t
+talk about was his work, an&#8217; some got most mad,
+he was so modest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He hardly ever left the house except fer long
+walks, and it was on one of them that the accident
+happened. It was in the road right in front of the
+field where I was ploughing, so I saw it all. Bessie
+Townsend, on her little gray mare, came tearin&#8217;
+down the Townsend Hill like mad.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jimmy had stopped ter speak ter me, at the
+fence, but the next minute he was off like a shot
+up the road. He ran an&#8217; made a flyin&#8217; leap,
+an&#8217; I saw the mare rear and plunge. Then beast
+and man came down together, and I saw Bessie slide
+to the ground, landin&#8217; on her feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When I got there Bessie Townsend was sittin&#8217;
+on the ground, with Jimmy&#8217;s head in her arms,
+which I thought uncommon good of her, seein&#8217;
+the mortification he&#8217;d caused her. But when I
+saw the look in her eyes, an&#8217; in his as he opened
+them an&#8217; gazed up at her, I reckoned there might
+be more ter that love-story than most folks knew. What
+he said ter her then I don&#8217;t know, but ter me
+he said jest four words, &#8217;Don&#8217;t--tell--the--folks,&#8217; an&#8217; I didn&#8217;t rightly
+understand jest then what he meant, for surely an
+accident like that couldn&#8217;t be kept unbeknownst.
+The next minute he fell back unconscious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It was a bad business all around, an&#8217;
+from the very first there wan&#8217;t no hope. In
+a week &#8216;twas over, an&#8217; we laid poor Jimmy
+away. Two days after the funeral Sam come ter me with
+a letter. It was addressed ter Jimmy, an&#8217; the
+old man couldn&#8217;t bring himself ter open it. He
+wanted, too, that I should go on ter New York an&#8217;
+get Jimmy&#8217;s things; an&#8217; after I had opened
+the letter I said right off that I&#8217;d go. I was
+mad over that letter. It was a bill fer a suit of
+clothes, an&#8217; it asked him purty sharplike ter
+pay it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I had some trouble in New York findin&#8217;
+Jimmy&#8217;s boardin&#8217;-place. There had been
+a fire the night before, an&#8217; his landlady had
+had ter move; but at last I found her an&#8217; asked
+anxiously fer Jimmy&#8217;s things, an&#8217; if his
+pictures had been hurt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jimmy&#8217;s landlady was fat an&#8217; greasy
+an&#8217; foreign-lookin&#8217;, an&#8217; she didn&#8217;t
+seem ter understand what I was talkin&#8217; about
+till I repeated a bit sharply:--</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;Yes, his pictures. I&#8217;ve come fer
+&#8217;em.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then she shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Meester Hadley did not have any pictures.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;But he must have had &#8217;em,&#8217;
+says I, &#8216;fer them papers an&#8217; magazines
+he worked for. He made &#8217;em!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She shook her head again; then she gave a queer
+hitch to her shoulders, and a little flourish with
+her hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Oh--ze pictures! He did do them--once--a
+leetle: months ago.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;But the prize,&#8217; says I. &#8216;The
+prize ter James Hadley!&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then she laughed as if she suddenly understood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, but it is ze grand mistake you are makin&#8217;,&#8217;
+she cried, in her silly, outlandish way of talkin&#8217;.
+&#8216;There is a Meester James Hadley, an&#8217;
+he does make pictures--beautiful pictures--but it is
+not this one. This Meester Hadley did try, long ago,
+but he failed to succeed, so my son said; an&#8217;
+he had to--to cease. For long time he has worked for
+me, for the grocer, for any one who would pay--till
+a leetle while ago. Then he left. In ze new clothes
+he had bought, he went away. Ze old ones-- burned.
+He had nothing else.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She said more, but I didn&#8217;t even listen.
+I was back with Jimmy by the roadside, and his &#8216;Don&#8217;t--tell--the--folks&#8217;
+was ringin&#8217; in my ears. I understood it then,
+the whole thing from the beginnin&#8217;; an&#8217;
+I felt dazed an&#8217; shocked, as if some one had
+struck me a blow in the face. I wan&#8217;t brought
+up ter think lyin&#8217; an&#8217; deceivin&#8217;
+was right.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I got up by an&#8217; by an&#8217; left the
+house. I paid poor Jimmy&#8217;s bill fer clothes--the
+clothes that I knew he wore when he stood tall an&#8217;
+straight in the doorway ter meet his mother&#8217;s
+adorin&#8217; eyes. Then I went home.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I told Sam that Jimmy&#8217;s things got burned
+up in the fire--which was the truth. I stopped there.
+Then I went to see the girl--an&#8217; right there
+I got the surprise of my life. She knew. He had told
+her the whole thing long before he come home, an&#8217;
+insisted on givin&#8217; her up. Jest what he meant
+ter do in the end, an&#8217; how he meant ter do it,
+she didn&#8217;t know; an&#8217; she said with a great
+sob in her voice, that she didn&#8217;t believe he
+knew either. All he did know, apparently, was that
+he didn&#8217;t mean his ma should find out an&#8217;
+grieve over it--how he had failed. But whatever he
+was goin&#8217; ter do, it was taken quite out of his
+hands at the last.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As fer Bessie, now,--it seems as if she can&#8217;t
+do enough fer Sam an&#8217; Mis&#8217; Hadley, she&#8217;s
+that good ter &#8217;em; an&#8217; they set the world
+by her. She&#8217;s got a sad, proud look to her eyes,
+but Jimmy&#8217;s secret is safe.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As I said, I saw old Sam an&#8217; his wife
+in the cemetery to-night. They stopped me as usual,
+an&#8217; told me all over again what a good boy Jimmy
+was, an&#8217; how smart he was, an&#8217; what a lot
+he&#8217;d made of himself in the little time he&#8217;d
+lived. The Hadleys are old an&#8217; feeble an&#8217;
+broken, an&#8217; it&#8217;s their one comfort--Jimmy&#8217;s
+success.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Uncle Zeke paused, and drew a long breath. Then he
+eyed me almost defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I ain&#8217;t sayin&#8217; that Jimmy did right,
+of course; but I ain&#8217;t sayin&#8217;-- that Jimmy
+did wrong,&#8221; he finished.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_12"></a>A Summons Home</h1>
+
+<p>Mrs. Thaddeus Clayton came softly into the room and
+looked with apprehensive eyes upon the little old
+man in the rocking-chair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;How be ye, dearie? Yer hain&#8217;t wanted
+fer nothin&#8217;, now, have ye?&#8221; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a thing, Harriet,&#8221; he returned cheerily.
+&#8220;I&#8217;m feelin&#8217; real pert, too. Was
+there lots there? An&#8217; did Parson Drew say a heap
+o&#8217; fine things?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Clayton dropped into a chair and pulled listlessly
+at the black strings of her bonnet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;T was a beautiful fun&#8217;ral, Thaddeus--a
+beautiful fun&#8217;ral. I--I &#8217;most wished it
+was mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harriet!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She gave a shamed-faced laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I did--then Jehiel and Hannah Jane would
+&#8216;a&#8217; come, an&#8217; I could &#8216;a&#8217;
+seen &#8217;em.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The horrified look on the old man&#8217;s face gave
+way to a broad smile.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Harriet--Harriet!&#8221; he chuckled, &#8220;how
+could ye seen &#8217;em if you was dead?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh? Well, I--Thaddeus,&#8221;--her voice rose
+sharply in the silent room,-- &#8220;every single
+one of them Perkins boys was there, and Annabel, too.
+Only think what poor Mis&#8217; Perkins would &#8216;a&#8217;
+given ter seen &#8217;em &#8217;fore she went! But
+they waited--<i>waited,</i> Thaddeus, jest as
+everybody does, till their folks is dead.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Harriet,&#8221; demurred the old man,
+&#8220;surely you&#8217;d &#8216;a&#8217; had them
+boys come ter their own mother&#8217;s fun&#8217;ral!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come! I&#8217;d &#8216;a&#8217; had &#8217;em
+come before, while Ella Perkins could &#8216;a&#8217;
+feasted her eyes on &#8217;em. Thaddeus,&#8221;--Mrs.
+Clayton rose to her feet and stretched out two gaunt
+hands longingly,--&#8220;Thaddeus, I get so hungry
+sometimes for Jehiel and Hannah Jane, seems as though
+I jest couldn&#8217;t stand it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know--I know, dearie,&#8221; quavered the
+old man, vigorously polishing his glasses.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Fifty years ago my first baby came,&#8221;
+resumed the woman in tremulous tones; &#8220;then
+another came, and another, till I&#8217;d had six.
+I loved &#8217;em, an&#8217; tended &#8217;em, an&#8217;
+cared fer &#8217;em, an&#8217; didn&#8217;t have a
+thought but was fer them babies. Four died,&#8221;--her
+voice broke, then went on with renewed strength,--&#8220;but
+I&#8217;ve got Jehiel and Hannah Jane left; at least,
+I&#8217;ve got two bits of paper that comes mebbe
+once a month, an&#8217; one of &#8217;em&#8217;s signed
+&#8216;your dutiful son, Jehiel,&#8217; an&#8217; the
+other, &#8217;from your loving daughter, Hannah Jane.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, Harriet, they--they&#8217;re pretty good
+ter write letters,&#8221; ventured Mr. Clayton.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Letters!&#8221; wailed his wife. &#8220;I can&#8217;t
+hug an&#8217; kiss letters, though I try to, sometimes.
+I want warm flesh an&#8217; blood in my arms, Thaddeus;
+I want ter look down into Jehiel&#8217;s blue eyes
+an&#8217; hear him call me &#8217;dear old mumsey!&#8217;
+as he used to. I wouldn&#8217;t ask &#8217;em ter stay--I
+ain&#8217;t unreasonable, Thaddeus. I know they can&#8217;t
+do that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, wife, mebbe they&#8217;ll come--mebbe
+they&#8217;ll come this summer; who knows?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head dismally.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve said that ev&#8217;ry year for
+the last fifteen summers, an&#8217; they hain&#8217;t
+come yet. Jehiel went West more than twenty years ago,
+an&#8217; he&#8217;s never been home since. Why, Thaddeus,
+we&#8217;ve got a grandson &#8217;most eighteen, that
+we hain&#8217;t even seen! Hannah Jane&#8217;s been
+home jest once since she was married, but that was
+nigh on ter sixteen years ago. She&#8217;s always
+writin&#8217; of her Tommy and Nellie, but--I want
+ter see &#8217;em, Thaddeus; I want ter see &#8217;em!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, yes; well, we&#8217;ll ask &#8217;em,
+Harriet, again--we&#8217;ll ask &#8217;em real urgent-like,
+an&#8217; mebbe that&#8217;ll fetch &#8217;em,&#8221;
+comforted the old man. &#8220;We&#8217;ll ask &#8217;em
+ter be here the Fourth; that&#8217;s eight weeks off
+yet, an&#8217; I shall be real smart by then.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Two letters that were certainly &#8220;urgent-like&#8221;
+left the New England farmhouse the next morning. One
+was addressed to a thriving Western city, the other
+to Chattanooga, Tennessee.</p>
+
+<p>In course of time the answers came. Hannah Jane&#8217;s
+appeared first, and was opened with shaking fingers.</p>
+
+<p><i>Dear Mother</i> [read Mrs. Clayton aloud]:
+Your letter came two or three days ago, and I have
+hurried round to answer it, for you seemed to be so
+anxious to hear. I&#8217;m real sorry, but I don&#8217;t
+see how we can get away this summer. Nathan is real
+busy at the store; and, some way, I can&#8217;t seem
+to get up energy enough to even think of fixing up
+the children to take them so far. Thank you for the
+invitation, though, and we should enjoy the visit
+very much; but I guess we can&#8217;t go just yet.
+Of course if anything serious should come up that made
+it necessary-- why, that would be different: but I
+know you are sensible, and will understand how it
+is with us.</p>
+
+<p>Nathan is well, but business has been pretty brisk,
+and he is in the store early and late. As long as
+he&#8217;s making money, he don&#8217;t mind; but I
+tell him I think he might rest a little sometimes,
+and let some one else do the things he does.</p>
+
+<p>Tom is a big boy now, smart in his studies and with
+a good head for figures. Nellie loves her books, too;
+and, for a little girl of eleven, does pretty well,
+we think.</p>
+
+<p>I must close now. We all send love, and hope you are
+getting along all right. Was glad to hear father was
+gaining so fast.</p>
+
+<p>Your loving daughter</p>
+
+<p style="font-variant: small-caps; text-align: right">Hannah Jane</p>
+
+<p>The letter dropped from Mrs. Clayton&#8217;s fingers
+and lay unheeded on the floor. The woman covered her
+face with her hands and rocked her body back and forth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dearie,&#8221; soothed the old
+man huskily; &#8220;mebbe Jehiel&#8217;s will be diff&#8217;rent.
+I shouldn&#8217;t wonder, now, if Jehiel would come.
+There, there! don&#8217;t take on so, Harriet! don&#8217;t!
+I jest know Jehiel&#8217;ll come.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A week later Mrs. Clayton found another letter in
+the rural delivery box. She clutched it nervously,
+peered at the writing with her dim old eyes, and hurried
+into the house for her glasses.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, it was from Jehiel.</p>
+
+<p>She drew a long breath. Her eager thumb was almost
+under the flap of the envelope when she hesitated,
+eyed the letter uncertainly, and thrust it into the
+pocket of her calico gown. All day it lay there, save
+at times-- which, indeed, were of frequent occurrence--when
+she took it from its hiding-place, pressed it to her
+cheek, or gloried in every curve of the boldly written
+address.</p>
+
+<p>At night, after the lamp was lighted, she said to
+her husband in tones so low he could scarcely hear:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thaddeus, I--I had a letter from Jehiel to-day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You did--and never told me? Why, Harriet, what--&#8221;
+He paused helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I haven&#8217;t read it, Thaddeus,&#8221;
+she stammered. &#8220;I couldn&#8217;t bear to, someway.
+I don&#8217;t know why, but I couldn&#8217;t. You read
+it!&#8221; She held out the letter with shaking hands.</p>
+
+<p>He took it, giving her a sharp glance from anxious
+eyes. As he began to read aloud she checked him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No; ter yerself, Thaddeus--ter yerself! Then--tell
+me.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As he read she watched his face. The light died from
+her eyes and her chin quivered as she saw the stern
+lines deepen around his mouth. A minute more, and
+he had finished the letter and laid it down without
+a word.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thaddeus, ye don&#8217;t mean--he didn&#8217;t
+say--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Read it--I--I can&#8217;t,&#8221; choked the
+old man.</p>
+
+<p>She reached slowly for the sheet of paper and spread
+it on the table before her.</p>
+
+<p><i>Dear Mother</i> [Jehiel had written]: Just
+a word to tell you we are all O. K. and doing finely.
+Your letter reminded me that it was about time I was
+writing home to the old folks. I don&#8217;t mean to
+let so many weeks go by without a letter from me,
+but somehow the time just gets away from me before
+I know it.</p>
+
+<p>Minnie is well and deep in spring sewing and house-cleaning.
+I know-- because dressmaker&#8217;s bills are beginning
+to come in, and every time I go home I find a carpet
+up in a new place!</p>
+
+<p>Our boy Fred is eighteen to-morrow. You&#8217;d be
+proud of him, I know, if you could see him. Business
+is rushing. Glad to hear you&#8217;re all right and
+that father&#8217;s rheumatism is on the gain.</p>
+
+<p>As ever, your affectionate and dutiful son, JEHIEL</p>
+
+<p>Oh, by the way--about that visit East. I reckon we&#8217;ll
+have to call it off this year. Too bad; but can&#8217;t
+seem to see my way clear.</p>
+
+<p>Bye-bye, J.</p>
+
+<p>Harriet Clayton did not cry this time. She stared
+at the letter long minutes with wide-open, tearless
+eyes, then she slowly folded it and put it back in
+its envelope.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harriet, mebbe-&#8221; began the old man timidly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t, Thaddeus--please don&#8217;t!&#8221;
+she interrupted. &#8220;I--I don&#8217;t want ter
+talk.&#8221; And she rose unsteadily to her feet and
+moved toward the kitchen door.</p>
+
+<p>For a time Mrs. Clayton went about her work in a silence
+quite unusual, while her husband watched her with
+troubled eyes. His heart grieved over the bowed head
+and drooping shoulders, and over the blurred eyes that
+were so often surreptitiously wiped on a corner of
+the gingham apron. But at the end of a week the little
+old woman accosted him with a face full of aggressive
+yet anxious determination.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thaddeus, I want ter speak ter you about somethin&#8217;.
+I&#8217;ve been thinkin&#8217; it all out, an&#8217;
+I&#8217;ve decided that I&#8217;ve got ter kill one
+of us off.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harriet!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I have. A fun&#8217;ral is the only thing
+that will fetch Jehiel and--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harriet, are ye gone crazy? Have ye gone clean
+mad?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him appealingly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, Thaddeus, don&#8217;t try ter hender me,
+please. You see it&#8217;s the only way. A fun&#8217;ral
+is the--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A &#8217;fun&#8217;ral&#8217;--it&#8217;s murder!&#8221;
+he shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, not ter make believe, as I shall,&#8221;
+she protested eagerly. &#8220;It&#8217;s--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Make believe!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes, of course. <i>You&#8217;ll</i>
+have ter be the one ter do it, &#8216;cause I&#8217;m
+goin&#8217; ter be the dead one, an&#8217;--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Harriet!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, <i>please,</i> Thaddeus!
+I&#8217;ve jest got ter see Jehiel and Hannah Jane
+&#8217;fore I die!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But--they--they&#8217;ll come if--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, they won&#8217;t come. We&#8217;ve tried
+it over an&#8217; over again; you know we have. Hannah
+Jane herself said that if anythin&#8217; &#8216;serious&#8217;
+came up it would be diff&#8217;rent. Well, I&#8217;m
+goin&#8217; ter have somethin&#8217; &#8216;serious&#8217;
+come up!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Harriet--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, Thaddeus,&#8221; begged the woman, almost
+crying, &#8220;you must help me, dear. I&#8217;ve
+thought it all out, an&#8217; it&#8217;s easy as can
+be. I shan&#8217;t tell any lies, of course. I cut
+my finger to-day, didn&#8217;t I?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why--yes--I believe so,&#8221; he acknowledged
+dazedly; &#8220;but what has that to do--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s the &#8216;accident,&#8217; Thaddeus.
+You&#8217;re ter send two telegrams at once-- one
+ter Jehiel, an&#8217; one ter Hannah Jane. The telegrams
+will say: &#8216;Accident to your mother. Funeral
+Saturday afternoon. Come at once.&#8217; That&#8217;s
+jest ten words.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man gasped. He could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, that&#8217;s all true, ain&#8217;t it?&#8221;
+she asked anxiously. &#8220;The &#8216;accident&#8217;
+is this cut. The &#8216;fun&#8217;ral&#8217; is old
+Mis&#8217; Wentworth&#8217;s. I heard ter-day that
+they couldn&#8217;t have it until Saturday, so that&#8217;ll
+give us plenty of time ter get the folks here. I needn&#8217;t
+say whose fun&#8217;ral it is that&#8217;s goin&#8217;
+ter be on Saturday, Thaddeus! I want yer ter hitch
+up an&#8217; drive over ter Hopkinsville ter send
+the telegrams. The man&#8217;s new over there, an&#8217;
+won&#8217;t know yer. You couldn&#8217;t send &#8217;em
+from here, of course.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thaddeus Clayton never knew just how he allowed himself
+to be persuaded to take his part in this &#8220;crazy
+scheme,&#8221; as he termed it, but persuaded he certainly
+was.</p>
+
+<p>It was a miserable time for Thaddeus then. First there
+was that hurried drive to Hopkinsville. Though the
+day was warm he fairly shivered as he handed those
+two fateful telegrams to the man behind the counter.
+Then there was the homeward trip, during which, like
+the guilty thing he was, he cast furtive glances from
+side to side.</p>
+
+<p>Even home itself came to be a misery, for the sweeping
+and the dusting and the baking and the brewing which
+he encountered there left him no place to call his
+own, so that he lost his patience at last and moaned:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Seems ter me, Harriet, you&#8217;re a pretty
+lively corpse!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>His wife smiled, and flushed a little.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dear! don&#8217;t fret. Jest
+think how glad we&#8217;ll be ter see &#8217;em!&#8221;
+she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Harriet was blissfully happy. Both the children had
+promptly responded to the telegrams, and were now
+on their way. Hannah Jane, with her husband and two
+children, were expected on Friday evening; but Jehiel
+and his wife and boy could not possibly get in until
+early on the following morning.</p>
+
+<p>All this brought scant joy to Thaddeus. There was
+always hanging over him the dread horror of what he
+had done, and the fearful questioning as to how it
+was all going to end.</p>
+
+<p>Friday came, but a telegram at the last moment told
+of trains delayed and connections missed. Hannah Jane
+would not reach home until nine-forty the next morning.
+So it was with a four-seated carryall that Thaddeus
+Clayton started for the station on Saturday morning
+to meet both of his children and their families.</p>
+
+<p>The ride home was a silent one; but once inside the
+house, Jehiel and Hannah Jane, amid a storm of sobs
+and cries, besieged their father with questions.</p>
+
+<p>The family were all in the darkened sitting-room--all,
+indeed, save Harriet, who sat in solitary state in
+the chamber above, her face pale and her heart beating
+almost to suffocation. It had been arranged that she
+was not to be seen until some sort of explanation had
+been given.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Father, what was it?&#8221; sobbed Hannah Jane.
+&#8220;How did it happen?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It must have been so sudden,&#8221; faltered
+Jehiel. &#8220;It cut me up completely.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t ever forgive myself,&#8221; moaned
+Hannah Jane hysterically. &#8220;She wanted us to
+come East, and I wouldn&#8217;t. &#8217;Twas my selfishness--&#8217;twas
+easier to stay where I was; and now--now--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve been brutes, father,&#8221; cut
+in Jehiel, with a shake in his voice; &#8220;all of
+us. I never thought--I never dreamed-father, can--can
+we see-- her?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the chamber above a woman sprang to her feet. Harriet
+had quite forgotten the stove-pipe hole to the room
+below, and every sob and moan and wailing cry had
+been woefully distinct to her ears. With streaming
+eyes and quivering lips she hurried down the stairs
+and threw open the sitting-room door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jehiel! Hannah Jane! I&#8217;m here, right
+here--alive!&#8221; she cried. &#8220;An&#8217; I&#8217;ve
+been a wicked, wicked woman! I never thought how bad
+&#8216;twas goin&#8217; ter make <i>you</i> feel.
+I truly never, never did. &#8217;Twas only myself--I
+wanted yer so. Oh, children, children, I&#8217;ve been
+so wicked--so awful wicked!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jehiel and Hannah Jane were steady of head and strong
+of heartland joy, it is said, never kills; otherwise,
+the results of that sudden apparition in the sitting-room
+doorway might have been disastrous.</p>
+
+<p>As it was, a wonderfully happy family party gathered
+around the table an hour later; and as Jehiel led
+a tremulous, gray-haired woman to the seat of honor,
+he looked into her shining eyes and whispered:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear old mumsey, now that we&#8217;ve found
+the way home again, I reckon we&#8217;ll be coming
+every year--don&#8217;t you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_13"></a>The Black Silk Gowns</h1>
+
+<p>The Heath twins, Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia, rose
+early that morning, and the world looked very beautiful
+to them--one does not buy a black silk gown every
+day; at least, Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia did
+not. They had waited, indeed, quite forty years to
+buy this one.</p>
+
+<p>The women of the Heath family had always possessed
+a black silk gown. It was a sort of outward symbol
+of inward respectability--an unfailing indicator of
+their proud position as members of one of the old families.
+It might be donned at any time after one&#8217;s twenty-first
+birthday, and it should be donned always for funerals,
+church, and calls after one had turned thirty. Such
+had been the code of the Heath family for generations,
+as Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia well knew; and it
+was this that had made all the harder their own fate--that
+their twenty-first birthday was now forty years behind
+them, and not yet had either of them attained this
+<i>cachet</i> of respectability.</p>
+
+<p>To-day, however, there was to come a change. No longer
+need the carefully sponged and darned black alpaca
+gowns flaunt their wearers&#8217; poverty to the world,
+and no longer would they force these same wearers
+to seek dark corners and sunless rooms, lest the full
+extent of that poverty become known. It had taken
+forty years of the most rigid economy to save the
+necessary money; but it was saved now, and the dresses
+were to be bought. Long ago there had been enough
+for one, but neither of the women had so much as thought
+of the possibility of buying one silk gown. It was
+sometimes said in the town that if one of the Heath
+twins strained her eyes, the other one was obliged
+at once to put on glasses; and it is not to be supposed
+that two sisters whose sympathies were so delicately
+attuned would consent to appear clad one in new silk
+and the other in old alpaca.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of their early rising that morning, it was
+quite ten o&#8217;clock before Miss Priscilla and
+Miss Amelia had brought the house into the state of
+speckless nicety that would not shame the lustrous
+things that were so soon to be sheltered beneath its
+roof. Not that either of the ladies expressed this
+sentiment in words, or even in their thoughts; they
+merely went about their work that morning with the
+reverent joy that a devoted priestess might feel in
+making ready a shrine for its idol. They had to hurry
+a little to get themselves ready for the eleven o&#8217;clock
+stage that passed their door; and they were still a
+little breathless when they boarded the train at the
+home station for the city twenty miles away--the city
+where were countless yards of shimmering silk waiting
+to be bought.</p>
+
+<p>In the city that night at least six clerks went home
+with an unusual weariness in their arms, which came
+from lifting down and displaying almost their entire
+stock of black silk. But with all the weariness, there
+was no irritation; there was only in their nostrils
+a curious perfume as of lavender and old lace, and
+in their hearts a strange exaltation as if they had
+that day been allowed a glad part in a sacred rite.
+As for Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia, they went home
+awed, yet triumphant: when one has waited forty years
+to make a purchase one does not make that purchase
+lightly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To-morrow we will go over to Mis&#8217; Snow&#8217;s
+and see about having them made up,&#8221; said Miss
+Priscilla with a sigh of content, as the stage lumbered
+through the dusty home streets.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes; we want them rich, but plain,&#8221; supplemented
+Miss Amelia, rapturously. &#8220;Dear me, Priscilla,
+but I am tired!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In spite of their weariness the sisters did not get
+to bed very early that night. They could not decide
+whether the top drawer of the spare-room bureau or
+the long box in the parlor closet would be the safer
+refuge for their treasure. And when the matter was
+decided, and the sisters had gone to bed, Miss Priscilla,
+after a prolonged discussion, got up and moved the
+silk to the other place, only to slip out of bed later,
+after a much longer discussion, and put it back. Even
+then they did not sleep well: for the first time in
+their lives they knew the responsibility that comes
+with possessions; they feared--burglars.</p>
+
+<p>With the morning sun, however, came peace and joy.
+No moth nor rust nor thief had appeared, and the lustrous
+lengths of shimmering silk defied the sun itself to
+find spot or blemish.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It looks even nicer than it did in the store,
+don&#8217;t it?&#8221; murmured Miss Priscilla, ecstatically,
+as she hovered over the glistening folds that she
+had draped in riotous luxury across the chair-back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,--oh, yes!&#8221; breathed Miss Amelia.
+&#8220;Now let&#8217;s hurry with the work so we can
+go right down to Mis&#8217; Snow&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><i>"Black</i> silk-<i>black</i> silk!&#8221;
+ticked the clock to Miss Priscilla washing dishes
+at the kitchen sink.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got a black <i>silk!</i>
+You&#8217;ve <i>got</i> a black <i>silk!"</i>
+chirped the robins to Miss Amelia looking for weeds
+in the garden.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o&#8217;clock the sisters left the house, each
+with a long brown parcel carefully borne in her arms.
+At noon--at noon the sisters were back again, still
+carrying the parcels. Their faces wore a look of mingled
+triumph and defeat.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As if we <i>could</i> have that beautiful
+silk put into a <i>plaited</i> skirt!&#8221;
+quavered Miss Priscilla, thrusting the key into the
+lock with a trembling hand. &#8220;Why, Amelia, plaits
+always crack!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course they do!&#8221; almost sobbed Miss
+Amelia. &#8220;Only think of it, Priscilla, our silk--<i>cracked!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We will just wait until the styles change,&#8221;
+said Miss Priscilla, with an air of finality. &#8220;They
+won&#8217;t always wear plaits!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And we know all the time that we&#8217;ve really
+got the dresses, only they aren&#8217;t made up!&#8221;
+finished Miss Amelia, in tearful triumph.</p>
+
+<p>So the silk was laid away in two big rolls, and for
+another year the old black alpaca gowns trailed across
+the town&#8217;s thresholds and down the aisle of
+the church on Sunday. Their owners no longer sought
+shadowed corners and sunless rooms, however; it was
+not as if one were <i>obliged</i> to wear sponged
+and darned alpacas!</p>
+
+<p>Plaits were &#8220;out&#8221; next year, and the Heath
+sisters were among the first to read it in the fashion
+notes. Once more on a bright spring morning Miss Priscilla
+and Miss Amelia left the house tenderly bearing in
+their arms the brown-paper parcels--and once more
+they returned, the brown parcels still in their arms.
+There was an air of indecision about them this time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see, Amelia, it seemed foolish--almost
+wicked,&#8221; Miss Priscilla was saying, &#8220;to
+put such a lot of that expensive silk into just sleeves.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it,&#8221; sighed her sister.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course I want the dresses just as much as
+you do,&#8221; went on Miss Priscilla, more confidently;
+&#8220;but when I thought of allowing Mis&#8217; Snow
+to slash into that beautiful silk and just waste it
+on those great balloon sleeves, I--I simply couldn&#8217;t
+give my consent!--and &#8217;tisn&#8217;t as though
+we hadn&#8217;t <i>got</i> the dresses!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, indeed!&#8221; agreed Miss Amelia, lifting
+her chin. And so once more the rolls of black silk
+were laid away in the great box that had already held
+them a year; and for another twelve months the black
+alpacas, now grown shabby indeed, were worn with all
+the pride of one whose garments are beyond reproach.</p>
+
+<p>When for the third time Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia
+returned to their home with the oblong brown parcels
+there was no indecision about them; there was only
+righteous scorn.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And do you really think that Mis&#8217; Snow
+<i>expected</i> us to allow that silk to be cut
+up into those skimpy little skin-tight bags she called
+skirts?&#8221; demanded Miss Priscilla, in a shaking
+voice. &#8220;Why, Amelia, we couldn&#8217;t ever
+make them over!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of course we couldn&#8217;t! And when skirts
+got bigger, what could we do?&#8221; cried Miss Amelia.
+&#8220;Why, I&#8217;d rather never have a black silk
+dress than to have one like that--that just couldn&#8217;t
+be changed! We&#8217;ll go on wearing the gowns we
+have. It isn&#8217;t as if everybody didn&#8217;t know
+we had these black silk dresses!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When the fourth spring came the rolls of silk were
+not even taken from their box except to be examined
+with tender care and replaced in the enveloping paper.
+Miss Priscilla was not well. For weeks she had spent
+most of her waking hours on the sitting-room couch,
+growing thiner, weaker, and more hollow-eyed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see, dear, I--I am not well enough now
+to wear it,&#8221; she said faintly to her sister
+one day when they had been talking about the black
+silk gowns; &#8220;but you--&#8221; Miss Amelia had
+stopped her with a shocked gesture of the hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Priscilla--as if I could!&#8221; she sobbed.
+And there the matter had ended.</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>The townspeople were grieved, but not surprised, when
+they learned that Miss Amelia was fast following her
+sister into a decline. It was what they had expected
+of the Heath twins, they said, and they reminded one
+another of the story of the strained eyes and the glasses.
+Then came the day when the little dressmaker&#8217;s
+rooms were littered from end to end with black silk
+scraps.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s for Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia,&#8217;&#8221;
+said Mrs. Snow, with tears in her eyes, in answer
+to the questions that were asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s their black silk gowns, you know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I thought they were ill--almost dying!&#8221;
+gasped the questioner.</p>
+
+<p>The little dressmaker nodded her head. Then she smiled,
+even while she brushed her eyes with her fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They are--but they&#8217;re happy. They&#8217;re
+even happy in this!&#8221; touching the dress in her
+lap. &#8220;They&#8217;ve been forty years buying it,
+and four making it up. Never until now could they
+decide to use it; never until now could they be sure
+they wouldn&#8217;t want to--to make it--over.&#8221;
+The little dressmaker&#8217;s voice broke, then went
+on tremulously: &#8220;There are folks like that,
+you know--that never enjoy a thing for what it is,
+lest sometime they might want it--different. Miss
+Priscilla and Miss Amelia never took the good that
+was goin&#8217;; they&#8217;ve always saved it for
+sometime--later.&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_14"></a>A Belated Honeymoon</h1>
+
+<p>The haze of a warm September day hung low over the
+house, the garden, and the dust-white road. On the
+side veranda a gray-haired, erect little figure sat
+knitting. After a time the needles began to move more
+and more slowly until at last they lay idle in the
+motionless, withered fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, Abby, takin&#8217; a nap?&#8221;
+demanded a thin-chested, wiry old man coming around
+the corner of the house and seating himself on the
+veranda steps.</p>
+
+<p>The little old woman gave a guilty start and began
+to knit vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dear me, no, Hezekiah. I was thinkin&#8217;.&#8221;
+She hesitated a moment, then added, a little feverishly:
+&#8220;--it&#8217;s ever so much cooler here than up
+ter the fair grounds now, ain&#8217;t it, Hezekiah?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man threw a sharp look at her face. &#8220;Hm-m,
+yes,&#8221; he said. &#8220;Mebbe &#8217;t is.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>From far down the road came the clang of a bell. As
+by common consent the old man and his wife got to
+their feet and hurried to the front of the house where
+they could best see the trolley-car as it rounded a
+curve and crossed the road at right angles.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Goes slick, don&#8217;t it?&#8221; murmured
+the man.</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer. The woman&#8217;s eyes were hungrily
+devouring the last glimpse of paint and polish.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; we hain&#8217;t been on &#8217;em
+&#8217;t all yet, have we, Abby?&#8221; he continued.</p>
+
+<p>She drew a long breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, ye see, I--I hain&#8217;t had time, Hezekiah,&#8221;
+she rejoined apologetically.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; muttered the old man as they
+turned and walked back to their seats.</p>
+
+<p>For a time neither spoke, then Hezekiah Warden cleared
+his throat determinedly and faced his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look a&#8217; here, Abby,&#8221; he began,
+&#8220;I&#8217;m agoin&#8217; ter say somethin&#8217;
+that has been &#8216;most tumblin&#8217; off&#8217;n
+the end of my tongue fer mor&#8217;n a year. Jennie
+an&#8217; Frank are good an&#8217; kind an&#8217; they
+mean well, but they think &#8217;cause our hair&#8217;s
+white an&#8217; our feet ain&#8217;t quite so lively
+as they once was, that we&#8217;re jest as good as
+buried already, an&#8217; that we don&#8217;t need
+anythin&#8217; more excitin&#8217; than a nap in the
+sun. Now, Abby, <i>didn&#8217;t</i> ye want ter
+go ter that fair with the folks ter-day? Didn&#8217;t
+ye?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A swift flush came into the woman&#8217;s cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, Hezekiah, it&#8217;s ever so much cooler
+here, an&#8217;--&#8221; she paused helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; retorted the man, &#8220;I thought
+as much. It&#8217;s always &#8216;nice an&#8217; cool&#8217;
+here in summer an&#8217; &#8216;nice an&#8217; warm&#8217;
+here in winter when Jennie goes somewheres that you
+want ter go an&#8217; don&#8217;t take ye. An&#8217;
+when &#8217;t ain&#8217;t that, you say you &#8216;hain&#8217;t
+had time.&#8217; I know ye! You&#8217;d talk any way
+ter hide their selfishness. Look a&#8217; here, Abby,
+did ye ever ride in them &#8217;lectric-cars? I mean
+anywheres?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I hain&#8217;t neither, an&#8217;, by
+ginger, I&#8217;m agoin&#8217; to!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Hezekiah, Hezekiah, don&#8217;t--swear!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I tell ye, Abby, I will swear. It&#8217;s a
+swearin&#8217; matter. Ever since I heard of &#8217;em
+I wanted ter try &#8217;em. An&#8217; here they are
+now &#8217;most ter my own door an&#8217; I hain&#8217;t
+even been in &#8217;em once. Look a&#8217; here, Abby,
+jest because we&#8217;re &#8217;most eighty ain&#8217;t
+no sign we&#8217;ve lost int&#8217;rest in things.
+I&#8217;m spry as a cricket, an&#8217; so be you, yet
+Frank an&#8217; Jennie expect us ter stay cooped up
+here as if we was old--really old, ninety or a hundred,
+ye know--an&#8217; &#8217;t ain&#8217;t fair. Why,
+we <i>will</i> be old one of these days!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it, Hezekiah.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We couldn&#8217;t go much when we was younger,&#8221;
+he resumed. &#8220;Even our weddin&#8217; trip was
+chopped right off short &#8217;fore it even begun.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A tender light came into the dim old eyes opposite.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, dear, an&#8217; what plans we had!&#8221;
+cried Abigail; &#8220;Boston, an&#8217; Bunker Hill,
+an&#8217; Faneuil Hall.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old man suddenly squared his shoulders and threw
+back his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Abby, look a&#8217; here! Do ye remember that
+money I&#8217;ve been savin&#8217; off an&#8217; on
+when I could git a dollar here an&#8217; there that
+was extra? Well, there&#8217;s as much as ten of &#8217;em
+now, an&#8217; I&#8217;m agoin&#8217; ter spend &#8217;em--all
+of &#8217;em mebbe. I&#8217;m <i>agoin&#8217;</i>
+ter ride in them &#8216;lectric-cars, an&#8217; so
+be you. An&#8217; I ain&#8217;t goin&#8217; ter no
+old country fair, neither, an&#8217; no more be you.
+Look a&#8217; here, Abby, the folks are goin&#8217;
+again ter-morrer ter the fair, ain&#8217;t they?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Abigail nodded mutely. Her eyes were beginning to
+shine.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; resumed Hezekiah, &#8220;when
+they go we&#8217;ll be settin&#8217; in the sun where
+they say we&#8217;d oughter be. But we ain&#8217;t
+agoin&#8217; ter stay there, Abby. We&#8217;re goin&#8217;
+down the road an&#8217; git on them &#8216;lectric-cars,
+an&#8217; when we git ter the Junction we&#8217;re
+agoin&#8217; ter take the steam cars fer Boston. What
+if &#8217;tis thirty miles! I calc&#8217;late we&#8217;re
+equal to &#8217;em. We&#8217;ll have one good time,
+an&#8217; we won&#8217;t come home until in the evenin&#8217;.
+We&#8217;ll see Faneuil Hall an&#8217; Bunker Hill,
+an&#8217; you shall buy a new cap, an&#8217; ride in
+the subway. If there&#8217;s a preachin&#8217; service
+we&#8217;ll go ter that. They have &#8217;em sometimes
+weekdays, ye know.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Hezekiah, we--couldn&#8217;t!&#8221; gasped
+the little old woman.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pooh! &#8217;Course we could. Listen!&#8221;
+And Hezekiah proceeded to unfold his plans more in
+detail.</p>
+
+<p>It was very early the next morning when the household
+awoke. By seven o&#8217;clock a two-seated carryall
+was drawn up to the side-door, and by a quarter past
+the carryall, bearing Jennie, Frank, the boys, and
+the lunch baskets, rumbled out of the yard and on
+to the highway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now, keep quiet and don&#8217;t get heated,
+mother,&#8221; cautioned Jennie, looking back at the
+little gray-haired woman standing all alone on the
+side veranda.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Find a good cool spot to smoke your pipe in,
+father,&#8221; called Frank, as an old man appeared
+in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>There followed a shout, a clatter, and a cloud of
+dust--then silence. Fifteen minutes later, hand in
+hand, a little old man and a little old woman walked
+down the white road together.</p>
+
+<p>To most of the passengers on the trolley-car that
+day the trip was merely a necessary means to an end;
+to the old couple on the front seat it was something
+to be remembered and lived over all their lives. Even
+at the Junction the spell of unreality was so potent
+that the man forgot things so trivial as tickets,
+and marched into the car with head erect and eyes
+fixed straight ahead.</p>
+
+<p>It was after Hezekiah had taken out the roll of bills--all
+ones--to pay the fares to the conductor that a young
+man in a tall hat sauntered down the aisle and dropped
+into the seat in front.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Going to Boston, I take it,&#8221; said the
+young man genially.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, sir,&#8221; replied Hezehiah, no less
+genially. &#8220;Ye guessed right the first time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Abigail lifted a cautious hand to her hair and her
+bonnet. So handsome and well-dressed a man would notice
+the slightest thing awry, she thought.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m,&#8221; smiled the stranger. &#8220;I
+was so successful that time, suppose I try my luck
+again.--You don&#8217;t go every day, I fancy, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sugar! How&#8217;d he know that, now?&#8221;
+chuckled Hezekiah, turning to his wife in open glee.
+&#8220;So we don&#8217;t, stranger, so we don&#8217;t,&#8221;
+he added, turning back to the man. &#8220;Ye hit it
+plumb right.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m! great place, Boston,&#8221; observed
+the stranger. &#8220;I&#8217;m glad you&#8217;re going.
+I think you&#8217;ll enjoy it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The two wrinkled old faces before him fairly beamed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I thank ye, sir,&#8221; said Hezekiah heartily.
+&#8220;I call that mighty kind of ye, specially as
+there are them that thinks we&#8217;re too old ter
+be enj&#8217;yin&#8217; of anythin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Old? Of course you&#8217;re not too old! Why,
+you&#8217;re just in the prime to enjoy things,&#8221;
+cried the handsome man, and in the sunshine of his
+dazzling smile the hearts of the little old man and
+woman quite melted within them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank ye, sir, thank ye sir,&#8221; nodded
+Abigail, while Hezekiah offered his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shake, stranger, shake! An&#8217; I ain&#8217;t
+too old, an&#8217; I&#8217;m agoin&#8217; ter prove
+it. I&#8217;ve got money, sir, heaps of it, an&#8217;
+I&#8217;m goin&#8217; ter spend it--mebbe I&#8217;ll
+spend it all. We&#8217;re agoin&#8217; ter see Bunker
+Hill an&#8217; Faneuil Hall, an&#8217; we&#8217;re
+agoin&#8217; ter ride in the subway. Now, don&#8217;t
+tell me we don&#8217;t know how ter enj&#8217;y ourselves!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was a very simple matter after that. On the one
+hand were infinite tact and skill; on the other, innocence,
+ignorance, and an overwhelming gratitude for this
+sympathetic companionship.</p>
+
+<p>Long before Boston was reached Mr. and Mrs. Warden
+and &#8220;Mr. Livingstone&#8221; were on the best
+of terms, and when they separated at the foot of the
+car-steps, to the old man and woman it seemed that
+half their joy and all their courage went with the
+smiling man who lifted his hat in farewell before
+being lost to sight in the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, Abby, we&#8217;re here!&#8221; announced
+Hezekiah with an exultation that was a little forced.
+&#8220;Gorry! There must be somethin&#8217; goin&#8217;
+on ter-day,&#8221; he added, as he followed the long
+line of people down the narrow passage between the
+cars.</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply. Abigail&#8217;s cheeks were pink
+and her bonnet-strings untied. Her eyes, wide opened
+and frightened, were fixed on the swaying, bobbing
+crowds ahead. In the great waiting-room she caught
+her husband&#8217;s arm.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hezekiah, we can&#8217;t, we mustn&#8217;t
+ter-day,&#8221; she whispered. &#8220;There&#8217;s
+such a crowd. Let&#8217;s go home an&#8217; come when
+it&#8217;s quieter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Abby, we--here, let&#8217;s set down,&#8221;
+Hezekiah finished helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>Near one of the outer doors Mr. Livingstone--better
+known to his friends and the police as &#8220;Slick
+Bill&#8221;--smiled behind his hand. Not once since
+he had left them had Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Warden been
+out of his sight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s up, Bill? Need assistance?&#8221;
+demanded a voice at his elbow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jim, by all that&#8217;s lucky!&#8221; cried
+Livingstone, turning to greet a dapper little man
+in gray. &#8220;Sure I need you! It&#8217;s a peach,
+though I doubt if we get much but fun, but there&#8217;ll
+be enough of that to make up. Oh, he&#8217;s got money--&#8217;heaps
+of it,&#8217; he says,&#8221; laughed Livingstone,
+&#8220;and I saw a roll of bills myself. But I advise
+you not to count too much on that, though it&#8217;ll
+be easy enough to get what there is, all right. As
+for the fun, Jim, look over by that post near the
+parcel window.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Great Scott! Where&#8217;d you pick &#8217;em?&#8221;
+chuckled the younger man.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never mind,&#8221; returned the other with
+a shrug. &#8220;Meet me at Clyde&#8217;s in half an
+hour. We&#8217;ll be there, never fear.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Over by the parcel-room an old man looked about him
+with anxious eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Abby, don&#8217;t ye see?&#8221; he urged.
+&#8220;We&#8217;ve come so fer, seems as though we
+oughter do the rest all right. Now, you jest set here
+an&#8217; let me go an&#8217; find out how ter git
+there. We&#8217;ll try fer Bunker Hill first, &#8217;cause
+we want ter see the munurmunt sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He rose to his feet only to be pulled back by his
+wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hezekiah Warden!&#8221; she almost sobbed.
+&#8220;If you dare ter stir ten feet away from me
+I&#8217;ll never furgive ye as long as I live. We&#8217;d
+never find each other ag&#8217;in!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, Abby,&#8221; soothed the man with
+grim humor, &#8220;if we never found each other ag&#8217;in,
+I don&#8217;t see as &#8217;twould make much diff&#8217;rence
+whether ye furgived me or not!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For another long minute they silently watched the
+crowd. Then Hezekiah squared his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, come, Abby,&#8221; he said, &#8220;this
+ain&#8217;t no way ter do. Only think how we wanted
+ter git here an&#8217; now we&#8217;re here an&#8217;
+don&#8217;t dare ter stir. There ain&#8217;t any less
+folks than there was--growin&#8217; worse, if anythin&#8217;--but
+I&#8217;m gittin&#8217; used ter &#8217;em now, an&#8217;
+I&#8217;m goin&#8217; ter make a break. Come, what
+would Mr. Livin&#8217;stone say if he could see us
+now? Where&#8217;d he think our boastin&#8217; was
+about our bein&#8217; able ter enj&#8217;y ourselves?
+Come!&#8221; And once more he rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>This time he was not held back. The little woman at
+his side adjusted her bonnet, tilted up her chin,
+and in her turn rose to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure enough!&#8221; she quavered bravely. &#8220;Come,
+Hezekiah, we&#8217;ll ask the way ter Bunker Hill.&#8221;
+And, holding fast to her husband&#8217;s coat sleeve,
+she tripped across the floor to one of the outer doors.</p>
+
+<p>On the sidewalk Mr. and Mrs. Hezekiah Warden came
+once more to a halt. Before them swept an endless
+stream of cars, carriages, and people. Above thundered
+the elevated railway cars.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh-h,&#8221; shuddered Abigail and tightened
+her grasp on her husband&#8217;s coat.</p>
+
+<p>It was some minutes before Hezekiah&#8217;s dry tongue
+and lips could frame his question, and then his words
+were so low-spoken and indistinct that the first two
+men he asked did not hear. The third man frowned and
+pointed to a policeman. The fourth snapped: &#8220;Take
+the elevated for Charlestown or the trolley-cars,
+either;&#8221; all of which served but to puzzle Hezekiah
+the more.</p>
+
+<p>Little by little the dazed old man and his wife fell
+back before the jostling crowds. They were quite against
+the side of the building when Livingstone spoke to
+them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, if here aren&#8217;t my friends
+again!&#8221; he exclaimed cordially.</p>
+
+<p>There was something of the fierceness of a drowning
+man in the way Hezekiah took hold of that hand.</p>
+
+<p><i>"Mr. Livin&#8217;stone!"</i> he cried; then
+he recollected himself. &#8220;We was jest goin&#8217;
+ter Bunker Hill,&#8221; he said jauntily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes?&#8221; smiled Livingstone. &#8220;But
+your luncheon--aren&#8217;t you hungry? Come with
+me; I was just going to get mine.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you--I--&#8221; Hezekiah paused and looked
+doubtingly at his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, my dear Mrs. Warden, you&#8217;ll say
+&#8216;Yes,&#8217; I know,&#8221; urged Livingstone
+suavely. &#8220;Only think how good a nice cup of tea
+would taste now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know, but--&#8221; She glanced at her husband.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense! Of course you&#8217;ll come,&#8221;
+insisted Livingstone, laying a gently compelling hand
+on the arm of each.</p>
+
+<p>Fifteen minutes later Hezekiah stood looking about
+him with wondering eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, Abby, ain&#8217;t this slick?&#8221;
+he cried.</p>
+
+<p>His wife did not reply. The mirrors, the lights, the
+gleaming silver and glass had filled her with a delight
+too great for words. She was vaguely conscious of
+her husband, of Mr. Livingstone, and of a smooth-shaven
+little man in gray who was presented as &#8220;Mr.
+Harding.&#8221; Then she found herself seated at that
+wonderful table, while beside her chair stood an awesome
+being who laid a printed card before her. With a little
+ecstatic sigh she gave Hezekiah her customary signal
+for the blessing and bowed her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; exulted Livingstone aloud. &#8220;Here
+we--&#8221; He stopped short. From his left came a
+deep-toned, reverent voice invoking the divine blessing
+upon the place, the food, and the new friends who were
+so kind to strangers in a strange land.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By Jove!&#8221; muttered Livingstone under
+his breath, as his eyes met those of Jim across the
+table. The waiter coughed and turned his back. Then,
+the blessing concluded, Hezekiah raised his head and
+smiled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, Abby, why don&#8217;t ye say somethin&#8217;?&#8221;
+he asked, breaking the silence. &#8220;Ye hain&#8217;t
+said a word. Mr. Livin&#8217;stone&#8217;ll be thinkin&#8217;
+ye don&#8217;t like it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Warden drew a long breath of delight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t say anythin&#8217;, Hezekiah,&#8221;
+she faltered. &#8220;It&#8217;s all so beautiful.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Livingstone waited until the dazed old eyes had become
+in a measure accustomed to the surroundings, then
+he turned a smiling face on Hezekiah.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And now, my friend, what do you propose to
+do after luncheon?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, we cal&#8217;late ter take in Bunker
+Hill an&#8217; Faneuil Hall sure,&#8221; returned
+the old man with a confidence that told of new courage
+imbibed with his tea. &#8220;Then we thought mebbe
+we&#8217;d ride in the subway an&#8217; hear one of
+the big preachers if they happened ter be holdin&#8217;
+meetin&#8217;s anywheres this week. Mebbe you can
+tell us, eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Across the table the man called Harding choked over
+his food and Livingstone frowned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; began Livingstone slowly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I think,&#8221; interrupted Harding, taking
+a newspaper from his pocket, &#8220;I think there
+are services there,&#8221; he finished gravely, pointing
+to the glaring advertisement of a ten-cent show, as
+he handed the paper across to Livingstone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what time do the exercises begin?&#8221;
+demanded Hezekiah in a troubled voice. &#8220;Ye see,
+there&#8217;s Bunker Hill an&#8217;--sugar! Abby, ain&#8217;t
+that pretty?&#8221; he broke off delightedly. Before
+him stood a slender glass into which the waiter was
+pouring something red and sparkling.</p>
+
+<p>The old lady opposite grew white, then pink. &#8220;Of
+course that ain&#8217;t wine, Mr. Livingstone?&#8221;
+she asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Give yourself no uneasiness, my dear Mrs. Warden,&#8221;
+interposed Harding. &#8220;It&#8217;s lemonade--pink
+lemonade.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh,&#8221; she returned with a relieved sigh.
+&#8220;I ask yer pardon, I&#8217;m sure. You wouldn&#8217;t
+have it, &#8216;course, no more&#8217;n I would. But,
+ye see, bein&#8217; pledged so, I didn&#8217;t want
+ter make a mistake.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was an awkward silence, then Harding raised
+his glass.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s to your health, Mrs. Warden!&#8221;
+he cried gayly. &#8220;May your trip----&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait!&#8221; she interrupted excitedly, her
+old eyes alight and her cheeks flushed. &#8220;Let
+me tell ye first what this trip is ter us, then ye&#8217;ll
+have a right ter wish us good luck.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Harding lowered his glass and turned upon her a gravely
+attentive face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Most fifty years ago we was married,
+Hezekiah an&#8217; me,&#8221; she began softly. &#8220;We&#8217;d
+saved, both of us, an&#8217; we&#8217;d planned a honeymoon
+trip. We was comin&#8217; ter Boston. They didn&#8217;t
+have any &#8217;lectric-cars then nor any steam-cars
+only half-way. But we was comin&#8217; an&#8217; we
+was plannin&#8217; on Bunker Hill an&#8217; Faneuil
+Hall, an&#8217; I don&#8217;t know what all.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The little lady paused for breath and Harding stirred
+uneasily in his chair. Livingstone did not move. His
+eyes were fixed on a mirror across the room. Over
+at the sideboard the waiter vigorously wiped a bottle.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, we was married,&#8221; continued the
+tremulous voice, &#8220;an&#8217; not half an hour
+later mother fell down the cellar stairs an&#8217;
+broke her hip. Of course that stopped things right
+short. I took off my weddin&#8217; gown an&#8217;
+put on my old red caliker an&#8217; went ter work.
+Hezekiah came right there an&#8217; run the farm an&#8217;
+I nursed mother an&#8217; did the work. &#8217;T was
+more&#8217;n a year &#8217;fore she was up &#8216;round,
+an&#8217; after that, what with the babies an&#8217;
+all, there didn&#8217;t never seem a chance when Hezekiah
+an&#8217; me could take this trip.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If we went anywhere we couldn&#8217;t seem
+ter manage ter go tergether, an&#8217; we never stayed
+fer no sight-seein&#8217;. Late years my Jennie an&#8217;
+her husband seemed ter think we didn&#8217;t need
+nothin&#8217; but naps an&#8217; knittin&#8217;, an&#8217;
+somehow we got so we jest couldn&#8217;t stand it.
+We wanted ter go somewhere an&#8217; see somethin&#8217;,
+so.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Warden paused, drew a long breath, and resumed.
+Her voice now had a ring of triumph.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, last month they got the &#8217;lectric-cars
+finished down our way. We hadn&#8217;t been on &#8217;em,
+neither of us. Jennie an&#8217; Frank didn&#8217;t
+seem ter want us to. They said they was shaky an&#8217;
+noisy an&#8217; would tire us all out. But yesterday,
+when the folks was gone, Hezekiah an&#8217; me got
+ter talkin&#8217; an&#8217; thinkin&#8217; how all
+these years we hadn&#8217;t never had that honeymoon
+trip, an&#8217; how by an&#8217; by we&#8217;d be
+old--real old, I mean, so&#8217;s we couldn&#8217;t
+take it--an&#8217; all of a sudden we said we&#8217;d
+take it now, right now. An&#8217; we did. We left
+a note fer the children, an&#8217;--an&#8217; we&#8217;re
+here!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence. Over at the sideboard the
+waiter still polished his bottle. Livingstone did
+not even turn his head. Finally Harding raised his
+glass.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll drink to honeymoon trips in general
+and to this one in particular,&#8221; he cried, a
+little constrainedly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Warden flushed, smiled, and reached for her glass.
+The pink lemonade was almost at her lips when Livingstone&#8217;s
+arm shot out. Then came the tinkle of shattered glass
+and a crimson stain where the wine trailed across
+the damask.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I beg your pardon!&#8221; exclaimed Livingstone,
+while the other men lowered their glasses in surprise.
+&#8220;That was an awkward slip of mine, Mrs. Warden.
+I must have hit your arm.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Bill,&#8221; muttered Harding under his
+breath, &#8220;you don&#8217;t mean--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I do,&#8221; corrected Livingstone quietly,
+looking straight into Harding&#8217;s amazed eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mr. and Mrs. Warden are my guests. They are
+going to drive to Bunker Hill with me by and by.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When the six o&#8217;clock accommodation train pulled
+out from Boston that night it bore a little old man
+and a little old woman, gray-haired, weary, but blissfully
+content.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve seen &#8217;em all, Hezekiah, ev&#8217;ry
+single one of &#8217;em,&#8221; Abigail was saying.
+&#8220;An&#8217; wan&#8217;t Mr. Livingstone good,
+a-gittin&#8217; that carriage an&#8217; takin&#8217;
+us ev&#8217;rywhere; an&#8217; it bein&#8217; open
+so all &#8217;round the sides, we didn&#8217;t miss
+seein&#8217; a single thing!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He was, Abby, he was, an&#8217; he wouldn&#8217;t
+let me pay one cent!&#8221; cried Hezekiah, taking
+out his roll of bills and patting it lovingly. &#8220;But,
+Abby, did ye notice? &#8216;Twas kind o&#8217; queer
+we never got one taste of that pink lemonade. The
+waiter-man took it away.&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_15"></a>When Aunt Abby Waked Up</h1>
+
+<p>The room was very still. The gaunt figure on the bed
+lay motionless save for a slight lifting of the chest
+at long intervals. The face was turned toward the
+wall, leaving a trail of thin gray hair-wisps across
+the pillow. Just outside the door two physicians talked
+together in low tones, with an occasional troubled
+glance toward the silent figure on the bed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If there could be something that would rouse
+her,&#8221; murmured one; &#8220;something that would
+prick her will-power and goad it into action! But
+this lethargy--this wholesale giving up!&#8221; he
+finished with a gesture of despair.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know,&#8221; frowned the other; &#8220;and
+I&#8217;ve tried--day after day I&#8217;ve tried.
+But there&#8217;s nothing. I&#8217;ve exhausted every
+means in my power. I didn&#8217;t know but you--&#8221;
+He paused questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>The younger man shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; he said. &#8220;If you can&#8217;t,
+I can&#8217;t. You&#8217;ve been her physician for
+years. If anyone knows how to reach her, you should
+know. I suppose you&#8217;ve thought of--her son?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes. Jed was sent for long ago, but he
+had gone somewhere into the interior on a prospecting
+trip, and was very hard to reach. It is doubtful if
+word gets to him at all until--too late. As you know,
+perhaps, it is rather an unfortunate case. He has not
+been home for years, anyway, and the Nortons--James
+is Mrs. Darling&#8217;s nephew--have been making all
+the capital they can out of it, and have been prejudicing
+her against him--quite unjustly, in my opinion, for
+I think it&#8217;s nothing more nor less than thoughtlessness
+on the boy&#8217;s part.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hm-m; too bad, too bad!&#8221; murmured the
+other, as he turned and led the way to the street
+door.</p>
+
+<p>Back in the sick-room the old woman still lay motionless
+on the bed. She was wondering--as she had wondered
+so often before--why it took so long to die. For days
+now she had been trying to die, decently and in order.
+There was really no particular use in living, so far
+as she could see. Ella and Jim were very kind; but,
+after all, they were not Jed, and Jed was away--hopelessly
+away. He did not even want to come back, so Ella and
+Jim said.</p>
+
+<p>There was the money, too. She did not like to think
+of the money. It seemed to her that every nickel and
+dime and quarter that she had painfully wrested from
+the cost of keeping soul and body together all these
+past years lay now on her breast with a weight that
+crushed like lead. She had meant that money for Jed.
+Ella and Jim were kind, of course, and she was willing
+they should have it; yet Jed--but Jed was away.</p>
+
+<p>And she was so tired. She had ceased to rouse herself,
+either for the medicine or for the watery broths they
+forced through her lips. It was so hopelessly dragged
+out--this dying; yet it must be over soon. She had
+heard them tell the neighbors only yesterday that she
+was unconscious and that she did not know a thing
+of what was passing around her; and she had smiled--but
+only in her mind. Her lips, she knew, had not moved.</p>
+
+<p>They were talking now--Ella and Jim--out in the other
+room. Their voices, even their words, were quite distinct,
+and dreamily, indifferently, she listened.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see,&#8221; said Jim, &#8220;as long as
+I&#8217;ve got ter go ter town ter-morrer, anyhow,
+it seems a pity not ter do it all up at once. I could
+order the coffin an&#8217; the undertaker--it&#8217;s
+only a question of a few hours, anyway, an&#8217;
+it seems such a pity ter make another trip--jest fer
+that!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the bedroom the old woman stirred suddenly. Somewhere,
+away back behind the consciousness of things, something
+snapped, and sent the blood tingling from toes to
+fingertips. A fierce anger sprang instantly into life
+and brushed the cobwebs of lethargy and indifference
+from her brain. She turned and opened her eyes, fixing
+them upon the oblong patch of light that marked the
+doorway leading to the room beyond where sat Ella
+and Jim.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jest fer that,&#8221; Jim had said, and &#8220;that&#8221;
+was her death. It was not worth, it seemed, even an
+extra trip to town! And she had done so much-- so
+much for those two out there!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s see; ter-day&#8217;s Monday,&#8221;
+Jim went on. &#8220;We might fix the fun&#8217;ral
+for Saturday, I guess, an&#8217; I&#8217;ll tell the
+folks at the store ter spread it. Puttin&#8217; it
+on Sat&#8217;day&#8217;ll give us a leetle extry time
+if she shouldn&#8217;t happen ter go soon&#8217;s
+we expect--though there ain&#8217;t much fear o&#8217;
+that now, I guess, she&#8217;s so low. An&#8217; it&#8217;ll
+save me &#8217;most half a day ter do it all up this
+trip. I ain&#8217;t--what&#8217;s that?&#8221; he broke
+off sharply.</p>
+
+<p>From the inner room had seemed to come a choking,
+inarticulate cry.</p>
+
+<p>With a smothered ejaculation Jim picked up the lamp,
+hurried into the sick-room, and tiptoed to the bed.
+The gaunt figure lay motionless, face to the wall,
+leaving a trail of thin gray hair-wisps across the
+pillow.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gosh!&#8221; muttered the man as he turned
+away.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s nothin&#8217; doin&#8217;-but
+it did give me a start!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>On the bed the woman smiled grimly--but the man did
+not see it.</p>
+
+<p>It was snowing hard when Jim got back from town Tuesday
+night. He came blustering into the kitchen with stamping
+feet and wide-flung arms, scattering the powdery whiteness
+in all directions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Whew! It&#8217;s a reg&#8217;lar blizzard,&#8221;
+he began, but he stopped short at the expression on
+his wife&#8217;s face. &#8220;Why, Ella!&#8221; he
+cried.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jim--Aunt Abby sat up ten minutes in bed ter-day.
+She called fer toast an&#8217; tea.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jim dropped into a chair. His jaw fell open.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;S-sat up!&#8221; he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But she--hang it all, Herrick&#8217;s comin&#8217;
+ter-morrer with the coffin!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Jim!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I can&#8217;t help it! You know how she
+was this mornin&#8217;,&#8221; retorted Jim sharply.
+&#8220;I thought she <i>was</i> dead once. Why,
+I &#8217;most had Herrick come back with me ter-night,
+I was so sure.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it,&#8221; shivered Ella, &#8220;but
+you hadn&#8217;t been gone an hour &#8217;fore she
+began to stir an&#8217; notice things. I found her
+lookin&#8217; at me first, an&#8217; it give me such
+a turn I &#8217;most dropped the medicine bottle in
+my hand. I was clearin&#8217; off the little table
+by her bed, an&#8217; she was followin&#8217; me around
+with them big gray eyes. &#8216;Slickin&#8217; up?&#8217;
+she asks after a minute; an&#8217; I could &#8216;a&#8217;
+dropped right there an&#8217; then, &#8217;cause I
+<i>was</i> slickin&#8217; up, fer her fun&#8217;ral.
+&#8216;Where&#8217;s Jim?&#8217; she asks then. &#8217;Gone
+ter town,&#8217; says I, kind o&#8217; faint-like.
+&#8216;Umph!&#8217; she says, an&#8217; snaps her lips
+tight shet. After a minute she opens &#8217;em again.
+&#8217;I think I&#8217;ll have some tea and toast,&#8217;
+she says, casual-like, jest as if she&#8217;d been
+callin&#8217; fer victuals ev&#8217;ry day fer a month
+past. An&#8217; when I brought it, if she didn&#8217;t
+drag herself up in bed an&#8217; call fer a piller
+to her back, so&#8217;s she could set up. An&#8217;
+there she stayed, pantin&#8217; an&#8217; gaspin&#8217;,
+but <i>settin&#8217; up</i>--an&#8217; she stayed
+there till the toast an&#8217; tea was gone.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gosh!&#8221; groaned Jim. &#8220;Who&#8217;d
+&#8216;a&#8217; thought it? &#8217;Course &#8217;t
+ain&#8217;t that I grudge the old lady&#8217;s livin&#8217;,&#8221;
+he added hurriedly, &#8220;but jest now it&#8217;s
+so-- unhandy, things bein&#8217; as they be. We can&#8217;t
+very well--&#8221; He stopped, a swift change coming
+to his face. &#8220;Say, Ella,&#8221; he cried, &#8220;mebbe
+it&#8217;s jest a spurt &#8217;fore--&#8217;fore the
+last. Don&#8217;t it happen sometimes that way--when
+folks is dyin&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; shuddered Ella.
+&#8220;Sh-h! I thought I heard her.&#8221; And she
+hurried across the hall to the sitting-room and the
+bedroom beyond.</p>
+
+<p>It did not snow much through the night, but in the
+early morning it began again with increased severity.
+The wind rose, too, and by the time Herrick, the undertaker,
+drove into the yard, the storm had become a blizzard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I calc&#8217;lated if I didn&#8217;t git this
+&#8217;ere coffin here purty quick there wouldn&#8217;t
+be no gettin&#8217; it here yet awhile,&#8221; called
+Herrick cheerfully, as Jim came to the door.</p>
+
+<p>Jim flushed and raised a warning hand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sh-h! Herrick, look out!&#8221; he whispered
+hoarsely. &#8220;She ain&#8217;t dead yet. You&#8217;ll
+have ter go back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Go back!&#8221; snorted Herrick. &#8220;Why,
+man alive, &#8217;twas as much as my life&#8217;s
+worth to get here. There won&#8217;t be no goin&#8217;
+back yet awhile fer me nor no one else, I calc&#8217;late.
+An&#8217; the quicker you get this &#8217;ere coffin
+in out of the snow, the better&#8217;t will be,&#8221;
+he went on authoritatively as he leaped to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>It was not without talk and a great deal of commotion
+that the untimely addition to James Norton&#8217;s
+household effects was finally deposited in the darkened
+parlor; neither was it accomplished without some echo
+of the confusion reaching the sick-room, despite all
+efforts of concealment. Jim, perspiring, red-faced,
+and palpably nervous, was passing on tiptoe through
+the sitting-room when a quavering voice from the bedroom
+brought him to a halt.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jim, is that you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Aunt Abby.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s come?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Jim&#8217;s face grew white, then red.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;C-ome?&#8221; he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I heard a sleigh and voices. Who is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, jest-jest a man on--on business,&#8221;
+he flung over his shoulder, as he fled through the
+hall.</p>
+
+<p>Not half an hour later came Ella&#8217;s turn. In
+accordance with the sick woman&#8217;s orders she
+had prepared tea, toast, and a boiled egg; but she
+had not set the tray on the bed when the old woman
+turned upon her two keen eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who&#8217;s in the kitchen, Ella, with Jim?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ella started guiltily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, jest a--a man.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ella hesitated; then, knowing that deceit was useless,
+she stammered out the truth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, er--only Mr. Herrick.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not William Herrick, the undertaker!&#8221;
+There was apparently only pleased surprise in the
+old woman&#8217;s voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; nodded Ella feverishly, &#8220;he
+had business out this way, and--and got snowed up,&#8221;
+she explained with some haste.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ye don&#8217;t say,&#8221; murmured the old
+woman. &#8220;Well, ask him in; I&#8217;d like ter
+see him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aunt Abby!&#8221;--Ella&#8217;s teeth fairly
+chattered with dismay.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I&#8217;d like ter see him,&#8221; repeated
+the old woman with cordial interest. &#8220;Call him
+in.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And Ella could do nothing but obey.</p>
+
+<p>Herrick, however, did not stay long in the sick-room.
+The situation was uncommon for him, and not without
+its difficulties. As soon as possible he fled to the
+kitchen, telling Jim that it gave him &#8220;the creeps&#8221;
+to have her ask him where he&#8217;d started for,
+and if business was good.</p>
+
+<p>All that day it snowed and all that night; nor did
+the dawn of Friday bring clear skies. For hours the
+wind had swept the snow from roofs and hilltops, piling
+it into great drifts that grew moment by moment deeper
+and more impassable.</p>
+
+<p>In the farmhouse Herrick was still a prisoner.</p>
+
+<p>The sick woman was better. Even Jim knew now that
+it was no momentary flare of the candle before it
+went out. Mrs. Darling was undeniably improving in
+health. She had sat up several times in bed, and had
+begun to talk of wrappers and slippers. She ate toast,
+eggs, and jellies, and hinted at chicken and beefsteak.
+She was weak, to be sure, but behind her, supporting
+and encouraging, there seemed to be a curious strength--a strength that sent a determined gleam to her eyes,
+and a grim tenseness to her lips.</p>
+
+<p>At noon the sun came out, and the wind died into fitful
+gusts. The two men attacked the drifts with a will,
+and made a path to the gate. They even attempted to
+break out the road, and Herrick harnessed his horse
+and started for home; but he had not gone ten rods
+before he was forced to turn back.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;T ain&#8217;t no use,&#8221; he grumbled.
+&#8220;I calc&#8217;late I&#8217;m booked here till
+the crack o&#8217; doom!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; ter-morrer&#8217;s the fun&#8217;ral,&#8221;
+groaned Jim. &#8220;An&#8217; I can&#8217;t git nowhere--<i>nowhere</i> ter tell &#8217;em not ter come!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, it don&#8217;t look now as if anybody&#8217;d
+come--or go,&#8221; snapped the undertaker.</p>
+
+<p>Saturday dawned fair and cold. Early in the morning
+the casket was moved from the parlor to the attic.</p>
+
+<p>There had been sharp words at the breakfast table,
+Herrick declaring that he had made a sale, and refusing
+to take the casket back to town; hence the move to
+the attic; but in spite of their caution, the sick
+woman heard the commotion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What ye been cartin&#8217; upstairs?&#8221;
+she asked in a mildly curious voice.</p>
+
+<p>Ella was ready for her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A chair,&#8221; she explained smoothly; &#8220;the
+one that was broke in the front room, ye know.&#8221;
+And she did not think it was necessary to add that
+the chair was not all that had been moved. She winced
+and changed color, however, when her aunt observed:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Humph! Must be you&#8217;re expectin&#8217;
+company, Ella.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was almost two o&#8217;clock when loud voices and
+the crunch of heavy teams told that the road-breakers
+had come. All morning the Nortons had been hoping
+against hope that the fateful hour would pass, and
+the road be still left in unbroken whiteness. Someone,
+however, had known his duty too well--and had done
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I set ter work first thing on this road,&#8221;
+said the man triumphantly to Ella as he stood, shovel
+in hand, at the door. &#8220;The parson&#8217;s right
+behind, an&#8217; there&#8217;s a lot more behind him.
+Gorry! I was afraid I wouldn&#8217;t git here in time,
+but the fun&#8217;ral wan&#8217;t till two, was it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Ella&#8217;s dry lips refused to move. She shook her
+head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s a mistake,&#8221; she said faintly.
+&#8220;There ain&#8217;t no fun&#8217;ral. Aunt Abby&#8217;s
+better.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The man stared, then he whistled softly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gorry!&#8221; he muttered, as he turned away.</p>
+
+<p>If Jim and Ella had supposed that they could keep
+their aunt from attending her own &#8220;funeral&#8221;--as
+Herrick persisted in calling it--they soon found their
+mistake. Mrs. Darling heard the bells of the first
+arrival.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I guess mebbe I&#8217;ll git up an&#8217; set
+up a spell,&#8221; she announced calmly to Ella. &#8220;I&#8217;ll
+have my wrapper an&#8217; my slippers, an&#8217; I&#8217;ll
+set in the big chair out in the settin&#8217;-room.
+That&#8217;s Parson Gerry&#8217;s voice, an&#8217;
+I want ter see him.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Aunt Abby--&#8221; began Ella, feverishly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I declare, if there ain&#8217;t another
+sleigh drivin&#8217; in,&#8221; cried the old woman
+excitedly, sitting up in bed and peering through the
+little window. &#8220;Must be they&#8217;re givin&#8217;
+us a s&#8217;prise party. Now hurry, Ella, an&#8217;
+git them slippers. I ain&#8217;t a-goin&#8217; to lose
+none o&#8217; the fun!&#8221; And Ella, nervous, perplexed,
+and thoroughly frightened, did as she was bid.</p>
+
+<p>In state, in the big rocking-chair, the old woman
+received her guests. She said little, it is true,
+but she was there; and if she noticed that no guest
+entered the room without a few whispered words from
+Ella in the hall, she made no sign. Neither did she
+apparently consider it strange that ten women and
+six men should have braved the cold to spend fifteen
+rather embarrassed minutes in her sitting-room--and
+for this last both Ella and Jim were devoutly grateful.
+They could not help wondering about it, however, after
+she had gone to bed, and the house was still.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do ye s&#8217;pose she thought?&#8221;
+whispered Jim.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; shivered Ella, &#8220;but,
+Jim, wan&#8217;t it awful?--Mis&#8217; Blair brought
+a white wreath--everlastin&#8217;s!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>One by one the days passed, and Jim and Ella ceased
+to tremble every time the old woman opened her lips.
+There was still that fearsome thing in the attic,
+but the chance of discovery was small now.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If she <i>should</i> find out,&#8221;
+Ella had said, &#8220;&#8217;twould be the end of
+the money--fer us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But she ain&#8217;t a-goin&#8217; ter find
+out,&#8221; Jim had retorted. &#8220;She can&#8217;t
+last long, &#8216;course, an&#8217; I guess she won&#8217;t
+change the will now--unless some one tells her; an&#8217;
+I&#8217;ll be plaguy careful there don&#8217;t no one
+do that!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The &#8220;funeral&#8221; was a week old when Mrs.
+Darling came into the sitting-room one day, fully
+dressed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I put on all my clo&#8217;s,&#8221; she said
+smilingly, in answer to Ella&#8217;s shocked exclamation.
+&#8220;I got restless, somehow, an&#8217; sick o&#8217;
+wrappers. Besides, I wanted to walk around the house
+a little. I git kind o&#8217; tired o&#8217; jest
+one room.&#8221; And she limped across the floor to
+the hall door.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, Aunt Abby, where ye goin&#8217; now?&#8221;
+faltered Ella.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jest up in the attic. I wanted ter see--&#8221;
+She stopped in apparent surprise. Ella and Jim had
+sprung to their feet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The attic!&#8221; they gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you mustn&#8217;t!--you ain&#8217;t strong
+enough!--you&#8217;ll fall!--there&#8217;s nothin&#8217;
+there!&#8221; they exclaimed wildly, talking both together
+and hurrying forward.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I guess &#8217;t won&#8217;t kill me,&#8221;
+said the old woman; and something in the tone of her
+voice made them fall back. They were still staring
+into each other&#8217;s eyes when the hall door closed
+sharply behind her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all--up!&#8221; breathed Jim.</p>
+
+<p>Fully fifteen minutes passed before the old woman
+came back. She entered the room quietly, and limped
+across the floor to the chair by the window.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s real pretty,&#8221; she said. &#8220;I
+allers did like gray.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gray?&#8221; stammered Ella.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes!--fer coffins, ye know.&#8221; Jim made
+a sudden movement, and started to speak; but the old
+woman raised her hand. &#8220;You don&#8217;t need
+ter say anythin&#8217;,&#8221; she interposed cheerfully.
+&#8220;I jest wanted ter make sure where &#8216;twas,
+so I went up. You see, Jed&#8217;s comin&#8217; home,
+an&#8217; I thought he might feel--queer if he run
+on to it, casual-like.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jed--comin&#8217; home!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The old woman smiled oddly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I didn&#8217;t tell ye, did I? The doctor
+had this telegram yesterday, an&#8217; brought it
+over to me. Ye know he was here last night. Read it.&#8221;
+And she pulled from her pocket a crumpled slip of
+paper. And Jim read:</p>
+
+<p>Shall be there the 8th. For God&#8217;s sake don&#8217;t
+let me be too late.</p>
+
+<p style="font-variant: small-caps; text-align: right">J. D. Darling</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_16"></a>Wristers for Three</h1>
+
+<p>The great chair, sumptuous with satin-damask and soft
+with springs, almost engulfed the tiny figure of the
+little old lady. To the old lady herself it suddenly
+seemed the very embodiment of the luxurious ease against
+which she was so impotently battling. With a spasmodic
+movement she jerked herself to her feet, and stood
+there motionless save for the wistful sweep of her
+eyes about the room.</p>
+
+<p>A level ray from the setting sun shot through the
+window, gilding the silver of her hair and deepening
+the faint pink of her cheek; on the opposite wall
+it threw a sharp silhouette of the alert little figure--that figure which even the passage of years had been
+able to bend so very little to its will. For a moment
+the lace kerchief folded across the black gown rose
+and fell tumultuously; then its wearer crossed the
+room and seated herself with uncompromising discomfort
+in the only straight-backed chair the room contained.
+This done, Mrs. Nancy Wetherby, for the twentieth
+time, went over in her mind the whole matter.</p>
+
+<p>For two weeks, now, she had been a member of her son
+John&#8217;s family--two vain, unprofitable weeks.
+When before that had the sunset found her night after
+night with hands limp from a long day of idleness?
+When before that had the sunrise found her morning
+after morning with a mind destitute of worthy aim
+or helpful plan for the coming twelve hours? When,
+indeed?</p>
+
+<p>Not in her girlhood, not even in her childhood, had
+there been days of such utter uselessness--rag dolls
+and mud pies need <i>some</i> care! As for her
+married life, there were Eben, the babies, the house,
+the church--and how absolutely necessary she had been
+to each one!</p>
+
+<p>The babies had quickly grown to stalwart men and sweet-faced
+women who had as quickly left the home nest and built
+new nests of their own. Eben had died; and the church--strange
+how long and longer still the walk to the church had
+grown each time she had walked it this last year! After
+all, perhaps it did not matter; there were new faces
+at the church, and young, strong hands that did not
+falter and tremble over these new ways of doing things.
+For a time there had been only the house that needed
+her--but how great that need had been! There were the
+rooms to care for, there was the linen to air, there
+were the dear treasures of picture and toy to cry
+and laugh over; and outside there were the roses to
+train and the pansies to pick.</p>
+
+<p>Now, even the house was not left. It was October,
+and son John had told her that winter was coming on
+and she must not remain alone. He had brought her
+to his own great house and placed her in these beautiful
+rooms--indeed, son John was most kind to her! If only
+she could make some return, do something, be of some
+use!</p>
+
+<p>Her heart failed her as she thought of the grave-faced,
+preoccupied man who came each morning into the room
+with the question, &#8220;Well, mother, is there anything
+you need to-day?&#8221; What possible service could
+<i>she</i> render <i>him?</i> Her heart
+failed her again as she thought of John&#8217;s pretty,
+new wife, and of the two big boys, men grown, sons
+of dear dead Molly. There was the baby, to be sure;
+but the baby was always attended by one, and maybe
+two, white-capped, white-aproned young women. Madam
+Wetherby never felt quite sure of herself when with
+those young women. There were other young women, too,
+in whose presence she felt equally ill at ease; young
+women in still prettier white aprons and still daintier
+white caps; young women who moved noiselessly in and
+out of the halls and parlors and who waited at table
+each day.</p>
+
+<p>Was there not some spot, some creature, some thing,
+in all that place that needed the touch of her hand,
+the glance of her eye? Surely the day had not quite
+come when she could be of no use, no service to her
+kind! Her work must be waiting; she had only to find
+it. She would seek it out--and that at once. No more
+of this slothful waiting for the work to come to her!
+&#8220;Indeed, no!&#8221; she finished aloud, her dim
+eyes alight, her breath coming short and quick, and
+her whole frail self quivering with courage and excitement.</p>
+
+<p>It was scarcely nine o&#8217;clock the next morning
+when a quaint little figure in a huge gingham apron
+(slyly abstracted from the bottom of a trunk) slipped
+out of the rooms given over to the use of John Wetherby&#8217;s
+mother. The little figure tripped softly, almost stealthily,
+along the hall and down the wide main staircase. There
+was some hesitation and there were a few false moves
+before the rear stairway leading to the kitchen was
+gained; and there was a gasp, half triumphant, half
+dismayed, when the kitchen was reached.</p>
+
+<p>The cook stared, open-mouthed, as though confronted
+with an apparition. A maid, hurrying across the room
+with a loaded tray, almost dropped her burden to the
+floor. There was a dazed moment of silence, then Madam
+Wetherby took a faltering step forward and spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-morning! I--I&#8217;ve come to help you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ma&#8217;am!&#8221; gasped the cook.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;To help--to help!&#8221; nodded the little
+old lady briskly, with a sudden overwhelming joy at
+the near prospect of the realization of her hopes.
+&#8220;Pare apples, beat eggs, or--anything!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, ma&#8217;am, I--you--&#8221; The cook
+stopped helplessly, and eyed with frightened fascination
+the little old lady as she crossed to the table and
+picked up a pan of potatoes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now a knife, please,--oh, here&#8217;s one,&#8221;
+continued Madam Wetherby happily. &#8220;Go right
+about something else. I&#8217;ll sit over there in
+that chair, and I&#8217;ll have these peeled very
+soon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>When John Wetherby visited his mother&#8217;s rooms
+that morning he found no one there to greet him. A
+few sharp inquiries disclosed the little lady&#8217;s
+whereabouts and sent Margaret Wetherby with flaming
+cheeks and tightening lips into the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother!&#8221; she cried; and at the word the
+knife dropped from the trembling, withered old fingers
+and clattered to the floor. &#8220;Why, mother!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I was helping,&#8221; quavered a deprecatory
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>Something in the appealing eyes sent a softer curve
+to Margaret Wetherby&#8217;s lips.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, mother; that was very kind of you,&#8221;
+said John&#8217;s wife gently. &#8220;But such work
+is quite too hard for you, and there&#8217;s no need
+of your doing it. Nora will finish these,&#8221; she
+added, lifting the pan of potatoes to the table, &#8220;and
+you and I will go upstairs to your room. Perhaps we&#8217;ll
+go driving by and by. Who knows?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In thinking it over afterwards Nancy Wetherby could
+find no fault with her daughter-in-law. Margaret had
+been goodness itself, insisting only that such work
+was not for a moment to be thought of. John&#8217;s
+wife was indeed kind, acknowledged Madam Wetherby
+to herself, yet two big tears welled to her eyes and
+were still moist on her cheeks after she had fallen
+asleep.</p>
+
+<p>It was perhaps three days later that John Wetherby&#8217;s
+mother climbed the long flight of stairs near her
+sitting-room door, and somewhat timidly entered one
+of the airy, sunlit rooms devoted to Master Philip
+Wetherby. The young woman in attendance respectfully
+acknowledged her greeting, and Madam Wetherby advanced
+with some show of courage to the middle of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The baby, I--I heard him cry,&#8221; she faltered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, madam,&#8221; smiled the nurse. &#8220;It
+is Master Philip&#8217;s nap hour.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Louder and louder swelled the wails from the inner
+room, yet the nurse did not stir save to reach for
+her thread.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But he&#8217;s crying--yet!&#8221; gasped Madam
+Wetherby.</p>
+
+<p>The girl&#8217;s lips twitched and an expression came
+to her face which the little old lady did not in the
+least understand.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Can&#8217;t you--do something?&#8221; demanded
+baby&#8217;s grandmother, her voice shaking.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, madam. I--&#8221; began the girl, but she
+did not finish. The little figure before her drew
+itself to the full extent of its diminutive height.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, I can,&#8221; said Madam Wetherby crisply.
+Then she turned and hurried into the inner room.</p>
+
+<p>The nurse sat mute and motionless until a crooning
+lullaby and the unmistakable tapping of rockers on
+a bare floor brought her to her feet in dismay. With
+an angry frown she strode across the room, but she
+stopped short at the sight that met her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>In a low chair, her face aglow with the accumulated
+love of years of baby-brooding, sat the little old
+lady, one knotted, wrinkled finger tightly elapsed
+within a dimpled fist. The cries had dropped to sobbing
+breaths, and the lullaby, feeble and quavering though
+it was, rose and swelled triumphant. The anger fled
+from the girl&#8217;s face, and a queer choking came
+to her throat so that her words were faint and broken.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Madam--I beg pardon--I&#8217;m sorry, but I
+must put Master Philip back on his bed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But he isn&#8217;t asleep yet,&#8221; demurred
+Madam Wetherby softly, her eyes mutinous.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But you must--I can&#8217;t--that is, Master
+Philip cannot be rocked,&#8221; faltered the girl.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Nonsense, my dear!&#8221; she said; &#8220;babies
+can always be rocked!&#8221; And again the lullaby
+rose on the air.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, madam,&#8221; persisted the girl--she
+was almost crying now--&#8220;don&#8217;t you see?
+I must put Master Philip back. It is Mrs. Wetherby&#8217;s
+orders. They-- they don&#8217;t rock babies so much
+now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For an instant fierce rebellion spoke through flashing
+eyes, stern-set lips, and tightly clutched fingers;
+then all the light died from the thin old face and
+the tense muscles relaxed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You may put the baby back,&#8221; said Madam
+Wetherby tremulously, yet with a sudden dignity that
+set the maid to curtsying. &#8220;I--I should not want
+to cross my daughter&#8217;s wishes.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nancy Wetherby never rocked her grandson again, but
+for days she haunted the nursery, happy if she could
+but tie the baby&#8217;s moccasins or hold his brush
+or powder-puff; yet a week had scarcely passed when
+John&#8217;s wife said to her:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother, dear, I wouldn&#8217;t tire myself
+so trotting upstairs each day to the nursery. There
+isn&#8217;t a bit of need--Mary and Betty can manage
+quite well. You fatigue yourself too much!&#8221;
+And to the old lady&#8217;s denials John&#8217;s wife
+returned, with a tinge of sharpness: &#8220;But, really,
+mother, I&#8217;d rather you didn&#8217;t. It frets
+the nurses and--forgive me--but you know you <i>will</i>
+forget and talk to him in &#8217;baby-talk&#8217;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The days came and the days went, and Nancy Wetherby
+stayed more and more closely to her rooms. She begged
+one day for the mending-basket, but her daughter-in-law
+laughed and kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Tut, tut, mother, dear!&#8221; she remonstrated.
+&#8220;As if I&#8217;d have you wearing your eyes
+and fingers out mending a paltry pair of socks!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Then I--I&#8217;ll knit new ones!&#8221; cried
+the old lady, with sudden inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Knit new ones--stockings!&#8221; laughed Margaret
+Wetherby. &#8220;Why, dearie, they never in this world
+would wear them--and if they would, I couldn&#8217;t
+let you do it,&#8221; she added gently, as she noted
+the swift clouding of the eager face. &#8220;Such
+tiresome work!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the old eyes filled with tears; and yet--John&#8217;s
+wife was kind, so very kind!</p>
+
+<p>It was a cheerless, gray December morning that John
+Wetherby came into his mother&#8217;s room and found
+a sob-shaken little figure in the depths of the sumptuous,
+satin-damask chair.  &#8220;Mother, mother,--why, mother!&#8221;
+There were amazement and real distress in John Wetherby&#8217;s
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, John, I--I didn&#8217;t mean
+to--truly I didn&#8217;t!&#8221; quavered the little
+old lady.</p>
+
+<p>John dropped on one knee and caught the fluttering
+fingers. &#8220;Mother, what is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It--it isn&#8217;t anything; truly it isn&#8217;t,&#8221;
+urged the tremulous voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Is any one unkind to you?&#8221; John&#8217;s
+eyes grew stern. &#8220;The boys, or-- Margaret?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The indignant red mounted to the faded cheek. &#8220;John!
+How can you ask? Every one is kind, kind, so very
+kind to me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, then, what is it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There was only a sob in reply. &#8220;Come, come,&#8221;
+he coaxed gently.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Nancy Wetherby&#8217;s breath was held
+suspended, then it came in a burst with a rush of
+words.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, John, John, I&#8217;m so useless, so useless,
+so dreadfully useless! Don&#8217;t you see? Not a
+thing, not a person needs me. The kitchen has the
+cook and the maids. The baby has two or three nurses.
+Not even this room needs me--there&#8217;s a girl
+to dust it each day. Once I slipped out of bed and
+did it first--I did, John; but she came in, and when
+I told her, she just curtsied and smiled and kept
+right on, and--she didn&#8217;t even skip <i>one
+chair!</i> John, dear John, sometimes it seems as
+though even my own self doesn&#8217;t need me. I--I
+don&#8217;t even put on my clothes alone; there&#8217;s
+always some one to help me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, there, dear,&#8221; soothed the man
+huskily. &#8220;I need you, indeed I do, mother.&#8221;
+And he pressed his lips to one, then the other, of
+the wrinkled, soft-skinned hands.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t--you don&#8217;t!&#8221; choked
+the woman. &#8220;There&#8217;s not one thing I can
+do for you! Why, John, only think, I sit with idle
+hands all day, and there was so much once for them
+to do. There was Eben, and the children, and the house,
+and the missionary meetings, and--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>On and on went the sweet old voice, but the man scarcely
+heard. Only one phrase rang over and over in his ears,
+&#8220;There&#8217;s not one thing I can do for you!&#8221;
+All the interests of now--stocks, bonds, railroads--fell
+from his mind and left it blank save for the past.
+He was a boy again at his mother&#8217;s knee. And
+what had she done for him then? Surely among all the
+myriad things there must be one that he might single
+out and ask her to do for him now! And yet, as he
+thought, his heart misgave him.</p>
+
+<p>There were pies baked, clothes made, bumped foreheads
+bathed, lost pencils found; there were--a sudden vision
+came to him of something warm and red and very soft--something
+over which his boyish heart had exulted. The next
+moment his face lighted with joy very like that of
+the years long ago.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mother!&#8221; he cried. &#8220;I know what
+you can do for me. I want a pair of wristers--red
+ones, just like those you used to knit!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr width="75%" size="1" />
+
+
+<p>It must have been a month later that John Wetherby,
+with his two elder sons, turned the first corner that
+carried him out of sight of his house. Very slowly,
+and with gentle fingers, he pulled off two bright
+red wristers. He folded them, patted them, then tucked
+them away in an inner pocket.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bless her dear heart!&#8221; he said softly.
+&#8220;You should have seen her eyes shine when I
+put them on this morning!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I can imagine it,&#8221; said one of his sons
+in a curiously tender voice. The other one smiled,
+and said whimsically, &#8220;I can hardly wait for
+mine!&#8221; Yet even as he spoke his eyes grew dim
+with a sudden moisture.</p>
+
+<p>Back at the house John&#8217;s mother was saying to
+John&#8217;s wife: &#8220;Did you see them on him,
+Margaret?--John&#8217;s wristers? They did look so
+bright and pretty! And I&#8217;m to make more, too;
+did you know? Frank and Edward want some; John said
+so. He told them about his, and they wanted some right
+away. Only think, Margaret,&#8221; she finished, lifting
+with both hands the ball of red worsted and pressing
+it close to her cheek, &#8220;I&#8217;ve got two whole
+pairs to make now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_17"></a>The Giving Thanks of Cyrus and Huldah</h1>
+
+<p>For two months Cyrus Gregg and his wife Huldah had
+not spoken to each other, yet all the while they had
+lived under the same roof, driven to church side by
+side, and attended various festivities and church prayer-meetings
+together.</p>
+
+<p>The cause of the quarrel had been an insignificant
+something that speedily lost itself in the torrent
+of angry words that burst from the lips of the irate
+husband and wife, until by night it would have been
+difficult for either the man or the woman to tell exactly
+what had been the first point of difference. By that
+time, however, the quarrel had assumed such proportions
+that it loomed in their lives larger than anything
+else; and each had vowed never to speak to the other
+until that other had made the advance.</p>
+
+<p>On both sides they came of a stubborn race, and from
+the first it was a battle royally fought. The night
+of the quarrel Cyrus betook himself in solitary state
+to the &#8220;spare-room&#8221; over the parlor. After
+that he slept on a makeshift bed that he had prepared
+for himself in the shed-chamber, hitherto sacred to
+trunks, dried corn, and cobwebs.</p>
+
+<p>For a month the two sat opposite to each other and
+partook of Huldah&#8217;s excellent cooking; then
+one day the woman found at her plate a piece--of brown
+paper on which had been scrawled:</p>
+
+<p>If I ain&#8217;t worth speakin&#8217; to I ain&#8217;t
+worth cookin&#8217; for. Hereafter I&#8217;ll take
+care of myself.</p>
+
+<p>A day later came the retort. Cyrus found it tucked
+under the shed-chamber door.</p>
+
+<p>Huldah&#8217;s note showed her &#8220;schooling.&#8221;
+It was well written, carefully spelled, and enclosed
+in a square white envelope.</p>
+
+<p><i>Sir</i> [it ran stiffly]: I shall be obliged
+if you do not chop any more wood for me. Hereafter
+I shall use the oil stove. HULDAH PENDLETON GREGG.</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus choked, and peered at the name with suddenly
+blurred eyes: the &#8220;Huldah Pendleton&#8221; was
+fiercely black and distinct; the &#8220;Gregg&#8221;
+was so faint it could scarcely be discerned.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, it&#8217;s &#8217;most like a d&#8217;vorce!&#8221;
+he shivered.</p>
+
+<p>If it had not been so pitiful, it would have been
+ludicrous--what followed. Day after day, in one corner
+of the kitchen, an old man boiled his potatoes and
+fried his unappetizing eggs over a dusty, unblacked
+stove; in the other corner an old woman baked and brewed
+over a shining idol of brass and black enamel--and
+always the baking and brewing carried to the nostrils
+of the hungry man across the room the aroma of some
+dainty that was a particular favorite of his own.</p>
+
+<p>The man whistled, and the woman hummed--at times;
+but they did not talk, except when some neighbor came
+in; and then they both talked very loud and very fast--to
+the neighbor. On this one point were Cyrus Gregg and
+his wife Huldah agreed; under no circumstances whatever
+must any gossiping outsider know.</p>
+
+<p>One by one the weeks had passed. It was November now,
+and very cold. Outdoors a dull gray sky and a dull
+brown earth combined into a dismal hopelessness. Indoors
+the dull monotony of a two-months-old quarrel and
+a growing heartache made a combination that carried
+even less of cheer.</p>
+
+<p>Huldah never hummed now, and Cyrus seldom whistled;
+yet neither was one whit nearer speaking. Each saw
+this, and, curiously enough, was pleased. In fact,
+it was just here that, in spite of the heartache, each
+found an odd satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By sugar--but she&#8217;s a spunky one!&#8221;
+Cyrus would chuckle admiringly, as he discovered some
+new evidence of his wife&#8217;s shrewdness in obtaining
+what she wanted with yet no spoken word.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There isn&#8217;t another man in town who could
+do it--and stick to it!&#8221; exulted Huldah proudly,
+her eyes on her husband&#8217;s form, bent over his
+egg-frying at the other side of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Not only the cause of the quarrel, but almost the
+quarrel itself, had now long since been forgotten;
+in fact, to both Cyrus and his wife it had come to
+be a sort of game in which each player watched the
+other&#8217;s progress with fully as much interest
+as he did his own. And yet, with it all there was
+the heartache; for the question came to them at times
+with sickening force--just when and how could it possibly
+end?</p>
+
+<p>It was at about this time that each began to worry
+about the other. Huldah shuddered at the changeless
+fried eggs and boiled potatoes; and Cyrus ordered
+a heavy storm window for the room where Huldah slept
+alone. Huldah slyly left a new apple pie almost under
+her husband&#8217;s nose one day, and Cyrus slipped
+a five-dollar bill beneath his wife&#8217;s napkin
+ring. When both pie and greenback remained untouched,
+Huldah cried, and Cyrus said, &#8220;Gosh darn it!&#8221;
+three times in succession behind the woodshed door.</p>
+
+<p>A week before Thanksgiving a letter came from the
+married daughter, and another from the married son.
+They were good letters, kind and loving; and each
+closed with a suggestion that all go home at Thanksgiving
+for a family reunion.</p>
+
+<p>Huldah read the letters eagerly, but at their close
+she frowned and looked anxious. In a moment she had
+passed them to Cyrus with a toss of her head. Five
+minutes later Cyrus had flung them back with these
+words trailing across one of the envelopes:</p>
+
+<blockquote>Write um. Tell um we are sick--dead--gone
+away--anything! Only don&#8217;t let um come. A
+  if <i>we</i> wanted to Thanksgive!</blockquote>
+
+<p>Huldah answered the letters that night. She, too,
+wrote kindly and lovingly; but at the end she said
+that much as she and father would like to see them,
+it did not seem wise to undertake to entertain such
+a family gathering just now. It would be better to
+postpone it.</p>
+
+<p>Both Huldah and Cyrus hoped that this would end the
+subject of Thanksgiving; but it did not. The very
+next day Cyrus encountered neighbor Wiley in the village
+store. Wiley&#8217;s round red face shone like the
+full moon.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, well, Cy, what ye doin&#8217; down your
+way Thanksgivin&#8217;--eh?&#8221; he queried.</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus stiffened; but before he could answer he discovered
+that Wiley had asked the question, not for information,
+but as a mere introduction to a recital of his own
+plans.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re doin&#8217; great things,&#8221;
+announced the man. &#8220;Sam an&#8217; Jennie an&#8217;
+the hull kit on &#8217;em&#8217;s comin&#8217; home
+an&#8217; bring all the chicks. Tell ye what, Cy,
+we <i>be</i> a-Thanksgivin&#8217; this year! Ain&#8217;t
+nothin&#8217; like a good old fam&#8217;ly reunion,
+when ye come right down to it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know,&#8221; said Cyrus gloomily. &#8220;But
+we--we ain&#8217;t doin&#8217; much this year.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A day later came Huldah&#8217;s turn. She had taken
+some calf&#8217;s-foot jelly to Mrs. Taylor in the
+little house at the foot of the hill. The Widow Taylor
+was crying.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You see, it&#8217;s Thanksgiving!&#8221; she
+sobbed, in answer to Huldah&#8217;s dismayed questions.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thanksgiving!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes. And last year I had--<i>him!</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Huldah sighed, and murmured something comforting,
+appropriate; but almost at once she stopped, for the
+woman had turned searching eyes upon her.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huldah Gregg, do you appreciate Cyrus?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Huldah bridled angrily, but there was no time for
+a reply, for the woman answered her own question,
+and hurried on wildly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No. Did I appreciate my husband? No. Does Sally
+Clark appreciate her husband? No. And there don&#8217;t
+none of us do it till he&#8217;s gone--gone-- gone!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As soon as possible Huldah went home. She was not
+a little disconcerted. The &#8220;gone--gone--gone&#8221;
+rang unpleasantly in her ears, and before her eyes
+rose a hateful vision of unappetizing fried eggs and
+boiled potatoes. As to her not appreciating Cyrus--that
+was all nonsense; she had always appreciated him,
+and that, too, far beyond his just deserts, she told
+herself angrily.</p>
+
+<p>There was no escaping Thanksgiving after that for
+either Huldah or Cyrus. It looked from every eager
+eye, and dropped from every joyous lip, until, of
+all the world Huldah and Cyrus came to regard themselves
+as the most forlorn, and the most abused.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that to Huldah came her great idea; she
+would cook for Cyrus the best Thanksgiving dinner
+he had ever eaten. Just because he was obstinate was
+no reason why he should starve, she told herself; and
+very gayly she set about carrying out her plans. First
+the oil stove, with the help of a jobman, was removed
+to the unfinished room over the kitchen, for the chief
+charm of the dinner was to be its secret preparation.
+Then, with the treasured butter-and-egg money the turkey,
+cranberries, nuts, and raisins were bought and smuggled
+into the house and upstairs to the chamber of mystery.</p>
+
+<p>Two days before Thanksgiving Cyrus came home to find
+a silent and almost empty kitchen. His heart skipped
+a beat and his jaw fell open in frightened amazement;
+then a step on the floor above sent the blood back
+to his face and a new bitterness to his heart.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;So I ain&#8217;t even good enough ter stay
+with!&#8221; he muttered. &#8220;Fool!--fool!&#8221;
+he snarled, glaring at the oblong brown paper in his
+arms. &#8220;As if she&#8217;d care for this--now!&#8221;
+he finished, flinging the parcel into the farthest
+corner of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Unhappy Cyrus! To him, also, had come a great idea.
+Thanksgiving was not Christmas, to be sure, but if
+he chose to give presents on that day, surely it was
+no one&#8217;s business but his own, he argued. In
+the brown paper parcel at that moment lay the soft,
+shimmering folds of yards upon yards of black silk--and
+Huldah had been longing for a new black silk gown.
+Yet it was almost dark when Cyrus stumbled over to
+the corner, picked up the parcel, and carried it ruefully
+away to the shed-chamber.</p>
+
+<p>Thanksgiving dawned clear and unusually warm. The
+sun shone, and the air felt like spring. The sparrows
+twittered in the treetops as if the branches were
+green with leaves.</p>
+
+<p>To Cyrus, however, it was a world of gloom. Upstairs
+Huldah was singing-- singing!--and it was Thanksgiving.
+He could hear her feet patter, patter on the floor
+above, and the sound had a cheery self-reliance that
+was maddening. Huldah was happy, evidently--and it
+was Thanksgiving! Twice he had walked resolutely to
+the back stairs with a brown-paper parcel in his arms;
+and twice a quavering song of triumph from the room
+above had sent him back in defeat. As if she could
+care for a present of his!</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, now, Cyrus sprang forward in his chair,
+sniffing the air hungrily. Turkey! Huldah was roasting
+turkey, while he--</p>
+
+<p>The old man dropped back in his seat and turned his
+eyes disconsolately on the ill-kept stove--fried eggs
+and boiled potatoes are not the most toothsome prospect
+for a Thanksgiving dinner, particularly when one has
+the smell of a New England housewife&#8217;s turkey
+in one&#8217;s nostrils.</p>
+
+<p>For a time Cyrus sat motionless; then he rose to his
+feet, shuffled out of the house, and across the road
+to the barn.</p>
+
+<p>In the room above the kitchen, at that moment, something
+happened. Perhaps the old hands slipped in their eagerness,
+or perhaps the old eyes judged a distance wrongly.
+Whatever it was, there came a puff of smoke, a sputter,
+and a flare of light; then red-yellow flames leaped
+to the flimsy shade at the window, and swept on to
+the century-seasoned timbers above.</p>
+
+<p>With a choking cry, Huldah turned and stumbled across
+the room to the stairway. Out at the barn door Cyrus,
+too, saw the flare of light at the window, and he,
+too, turned with a choking cry.</p>
+
+<p>They met at the foot of the stairway.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huldah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cyrus!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was as if one voice had spoken, so exactly were
+the words simultaneous. Then Cyrus cried:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You ain&#8217;t hurt?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, no! Quick--the things--we must get them
+out!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Obediently Cyrus turned and began to work; and the
+first thing that his arms tenderly bore to safety
+was an oblong brown-paper parcel.</p>
+
+<p>From all directions then came the neighbors running.
+The farming settlement was miles from a town or a
+fire-engine. The house was small, and stood quite
+by itself; and there was little, after all, that could
+be done, except to save the household goods and gods.
+This was soon accomplished, and there was nothing
+to do but to watch the old house burn.</p>
+
+<p>Cyrus and Huldah sat hand in hand on an old stone
+wall, quite apart from their sympathetic neighbors,
+and--talked. And about them was a curious air of elation,
+a buoyancy as if long-pent forces had suddenly found
+a joyous escape.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8217;T ain&#8217;t as if our things wan&#8217;t
+all out,&#8221; cried Cyrus; his voice was actually
+exultant.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Or as if we hadn&#8217;t wanted to build a
+new one for years,&#8221; chirruped his wife.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now you can have that &#8217;ere closet under
+the front stairs, Huldah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And you can have the room for your tools where
+it&#8217;ll be warm in the winter!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; there&#8217;ll be the bow-winder
+out of the settin&#8217; room, Huldah!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and a real bathroom, with water coming
+right out of the wall, same as the Wileys have!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;An&#8217; a tub, Huldah--one o&#8217; them
+pretty white chiny ones!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Cyrus, ain&#8217;t it almost too good to
+be true!&#8221; sighed Huldah: then her face changed.
+&#8220;Why, Cyrus, it&#8217;s gone,&#8221; she cried
+with sudden sharpness.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s gone?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Your dinner--I was cooking such a beautiful
+turkey and all the fixings for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>A dull red came into the man&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;For--me?&#8221; stammered Cyrus.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Y-yes,&#8221; faltered Huldah; then her chin
+came up defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>The man laughed; and there was a boyish ring to his
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, Huldah, I didn&#8217;t have any turkey,
+but I did have a tidy little piece o&#8217; black
+silk for yer gown, an&#8217; I saved it, too. Mebbe
+we could eat that!--eh?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was not until just as they were falling asleep
+that night in Deacon Clark&#8217;s spare bedroom that
+Mr. and Mrs. Gregg so much as hinted that there ever
+had been a quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>Then, under cover of the dark, Cyrus stammered:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huldah, did ye sense it? Them &#8217;ere words
+we said at the foot of the stairs was spoke--exactly--<i>together</i>!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I know, dear,&#8221; murmured Huldah,
+with a little break in her voice. Then:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cyrus, ain&#8217;t it wonderful--this Thanksgiving,
+for us?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Downstairs the Clarks were talking of poor old Mr.
+and Mrs. Gregg and their &#8220;sad loss;&#8221; but
+the Clarks did not--know.</p>
+
+<h1><a name="chap_18"></a>A New England Idol</h1>
+
+<p>The Hapgood twins were born in the great square house
+that set back from the road just on the outskirts
+of Fairtown. Their baby eyes had opened upon a world
+of faded portraits and somber haircloth furniture,
+and their baby hands had eagerly clutched at crystal
+pendants on brass candlesticks gleaming out of the
+sacred darkness that enveloped the parlor mantel.</p>
+
+<p>When older grown they had played dolls in the wonderful
+attic, and made mud pies in the wilderness of a back
+yard. The garden had been a fairyland of delight to
+their toddling feet, and the apple trees a fragrant
+shelter for their first attempts at housekeeping.</p>
+
+<p>From babyhood to girlhood the charm of the old place
+grew upon them, so much so that the thought of leaving
+it for homes of their own became distasteful to them,
+and they looked with scant favor upon the occasional
+village youths who sauntered up the path presumably
+on courtship bent.</p>
+
+<p>The Reverend John Hapgood--a man who ruled himself
+and all about him with the iron rod of a rigid old-school
+orthodoxy--died when the twins were twenty; and the
+frail little woman who, as his wife, had for thirty
+years lived and moved solely because he expected breath
+and motion of her, followed soon in his footsteps.
+And then the twins were left alone in the great square
+house on the hill.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Tabitha and Miss Rachel were not the only children
+of the family. There had been a son--the first born,
+and four years their senior. The headstrong boy and
+the iron rule had clashed, and the boy, when sixteen
+years old, had fled, leaving no trace behind him.</p>
+
+<p>If the Reverend John Hapgood grieved for his wayward
+son the members of his household knew it not, save
+as they might place their own constructions on the
+added sternness to his eyes and the deepening lines
+about his mouth. &#8220;Paul,&#8221; when it designated
+the graceless runaway, was a forbidden word in the
+family, and even the Epistles in the sacred Book,
+bearing the prohibited name, came to be avoided by
+the head of the house in the daily readings. It was
+still music in the hearts of the women, however, though
+it never passed their lips; and when the little mother
+lay dying she remembered and spoke of her boy. The
+habit of years still fettered her tongue and kept
+it from uttering the name.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If--he--comes--you know--if he comes, be kind--be
+good,&#8221; she murmured, her breath short and labored.
+&#8220;Don&#8217;t--punish,&#8221; she whispered--he
+was yet a lad in her disordered vision. &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+punish--forgive!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Years had passed since then--years of peaceful mornings
+and placid afternoons, and Paul had never appeared.
+Each purpling of the lilacs in the spring and reddening
+of the apples in the fall took on new shades of loveliness
+in the fond eyes of the twins, and every blade of grass
+and tiny shrub became sacred to them.</p>
+
+<p>On the 10th of June, their thirty-fifth birthday,
+the place never had looked so lovely. A small table
+laid with spotless linen and gleaming silver stood
+beneath the largest apple-tree, a mute witness that
+the ladies were about to celebrate their birthday--the
+10th of June being the only day that the solemn dignity
+of the dining-room was deserted for the frivolous
+freedom of the lawn.</p>
+
+<p>Rachel came out of the house and sniffed the air joyfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Delicious!&#8221; she murmured. &#8220;Somehow,
+the 10th of June is specially fine every year.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In careful, uplifted hands she bore a round frosted
+cake, always the chief treasure of the birthday feast.
+The cake was covered with the tiny colored candies
+so dear to the heart of a child. Miss Rachel always
+bought those candies at the village store, with the
+apology:--</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want them for Tabitha&#8217;s birthday cake,
+you know. She thinks so much of pretty things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha invariably made the cake and iced it, and
+as she dropped the bits of colored sugar into place,
+she would explain to Huldy, who occasionally &#8220;helped&#8221;
+in the kitchen:--</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t miss the candy for the world--my
+sister thinks so much of it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So each deceived herself with this pleasant bit of
+fiction, and yet had what she herself most wanted.</p>
+
+<p>Rachel carefully placed the cake in the center of
+the table, feasted her eyes on its toothsome loveliness,
+then turned and hurried back to the house. The door
+had scarcely shut behind her when a small, ragged urchin
+darted in at the street gate, snatched the cake, and,
+at a sudden sound from the house, dashed out of sight
+behind a shrub close by.</p>
+
+<p>The sound that had frightened the boy was the tapping
+of the heels of Miss Tabitha&#8217;s shoes along the
+back porch. The lady descended the steps, crossed
+the lawn and placed a saucer of pickles and a plate
+of dainty sandwiches on the table.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, I thought Rachel brought the cake,&#8221;
+she said aloud. &#8220;It must be in the house; there&#8217;s
+other things to get, anyway. I&#8217;ll go back.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Again the click of the door brought the small boy
+close to the table. Filling both hands with sandwiches,
+he slipped behind the shrub just as the ladies came
+out of the house together. Rachel carried a small tray
+laden with sauce and tarts; Tabitha, one with water
+and steaming tea. As they neared the table each almost
+dropped her burden.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, where&#8217;s my cake?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And my sandwiches?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s the plate it was on!&#8221; Rachel&#8217;s
+voice was growing in terror.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And mine, too!&#8221; cried Tabitha, with distended
+eyes fastened on some bits of bread and meat--all
+that the small brown hands had left.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s burglars--robbers!&#8221; Rachel
+looked furtively over her shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And all your lovely cake!&#8221; almost sobbed
+Tabitha.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It--it was yours, too,&#8221; said the other
+with a catch in her voice. &#8220;Oh, dear! What can
+have happened to it? I never heard of such a thing--right
+in broad daylight!&#8221; The sisters had long ago
+set their trays upon the ground and were now wringing
+their hands helplessly. Suddenly a small figure appeared
+before them holding out four sadly crushed sandwiches
+and half of a crumbling cake.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry--awful sorry! I didn&#8217;t
+think--I was so hungry. I&#8217;m afraid there ain&#8217;t
+very much left,&#8221; he added, with rueful eyes on
+the sandwiches.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No, I should say not!&#8221; vouchsafed Rachel,
+her voice firm now that the size of the &#8220;burglar&#8221;
+was declared. Tabitha only gasped.</p>
+
+<p>The small boy placed the food upon the empty plates,
+and Rachel&#8217;s lips twitched as she saw that he
+clumsily tried to arrange it in an orderly fashion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There, ma&#8217;am,--that looks pretty good!&#8221;
+he finally announced with some pride.</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha made an involuntary gesture of aversion. Rachel
+laughed outright; then her face grew suddenly stern.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Boy, what do you mean by such actions?&#8221;
+she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>His eyes fell, and his cheeks showed red through the
+tan.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I was hungry.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But didn&#8217;t you know it was stealing?&#8221;
+she asked, her face softening.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t stop to think--it looked so
+good I couldn&#8217;t help takin&#8217; it.&#8221;
+He dug his bare toes in the grass for a moment in silence,
+then he raised his head with a jerk and stood squarely
+on both feet. &#8220;I hain&#8217;t got any money,
+but I&#8217;ll work to pay for it--bringin&#8217; wood
+in, or somethin&#8217;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The dear child!&#8221; murmured two voices
+softly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got to find my folks, sometime,
+but I&#8217;ll do the work first. Mebbe an hour&#8217;ll
+pay for it--&#8217;most!&#8221;--He looked hopefully
+into Miss Rachel&#8217;s face.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Who are your folks?&#8221; she asked huskily.</p>
+
+<p>By way of answer he handed out a soiled, crumpled
+envelope for her inspection on which was written,
+&#8220;Reverend John Hapgood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why--it&#8217;s father!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What!&#8221; exclaimed Tabitha.</p>
+
+<p>Her sister tore the note open with shaking fingers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s from--Paul!&#8221; she breathed,
+hesitating a conscientious moment over the name. Then
+she turned her startled eyes on the boy, who was regarding
+her with lively interest.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do I belong to you?&#8221; he asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I--I don&#8217;t know. Who are you--what&#8217;s
+your name?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ralph Hapgood.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha had caught up the note and was devouring it
+with swift-moving eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s Paul&#8217;s boy, Rachel,&#8221;
+she broke in, &#8220;only think of it--Paul&#8217;s
+boy!&#8221; and she dropped the bit of paper and enveloped
+the lad in a fond but tearful embrace.</p>
+
+<p>He squirmed uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sorry I eat up my own folks&#8217;s
+things. I&#8217;ll go to work any time,&#8221; he
+suggested, trying to draw away, and wiping a tear splash
+from the back of his hand on his trousers.</p>
+
+<p>But it was long hours before Ralph Hapgood was allowed
+to &#8220;go to work.&#8221; Tears, kisses, embraces,
+questions, a bath, and clean clothes followed each
+other in quick succession--the clothes being some of
+his own father&#8217;s boyhood garments.</p>
+
+<p>His story was quickly told. His mother was long since
+dead, and his father had written on his dying bed
+the letter that commended the boy-- so soon to be
+orphaned--to the pity and care of his grandparents.
+The sisters trembled and changed color at the story
+of the boy&#8217;s hardships on the way to Fairtown;
+and they plied him with questions and sandwiches in
+about equal proportions after he told of the frequent
+dinnerless days and supperless nights of the journey.</p>
+
+<p>That evening when the boy was safe in bed--clean,
+full-stomached, and sleepily content the sisters talked
+it over. The Reverend John Hapgood, in his will, had
+cut off his recreant son with the proverbial shilling,
+so, by law, there was little coming to Ralph. This,
+however, the sisters overlooked in calm disdain.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We must keep him, anyhow,&#8221; said Rachel
+with decision.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, indeed,--the dear child!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s twelve, for all he&#8217;s so small,
+but he hasn&#8217;t had much schooling. We must see
+to that--we want him well educated,&#8221; continued
+Rachel, a pink spot showing in either cheek.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed we do--we&#8217;ll send him to college!
+I wonder, now, wouldn&#8217;t he like to be a doctor?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps,&#8221; admitted the other cautiously,
+&#8220;or a minister.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure enough--he might like that better; I&#8217;m
+going to ask him!&#8221; and she sprang to her feet
+and tripped across the room to the parlor-bedroom
+door. &#8220;Ralph,&#8221; she called softly, after
+turning the knob, &#8220;are you asleep?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Huh? N-no, ma&#8217;am.&#8221; The voice nearly
+gave the lie to the words.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, dear, we were wondering--would you rather
+be a minister or a doctor?&#8221; she asked, much
+as though she were offering for choice a peach and
+a pear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A doctor!&#8221; came emphatically from out
+of the dark--there was no sleep in the voice now.
+&#8220;I&#8217;ve always wanted to be a doctor.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You shall, oh, you shall!&#8221; promised the
+woman ecstatically, going back to her sister; and
+from that time all their lives were ordered with that
+one end in view.</p>
+
+<p>The Hapgood twins were far from wealthy. They owned
+the homestead, but their income was small, and the
+added mouth to fill--and that a hungry one--counted.
+As the years passed, Huldy came less and less frequently
+to help in the kitchen, and the sisters&#8217; gowns
+grew more and more rusty and darned.</p>
+
+<p>Ralph, boylike, noticed nothing--indeed, half the
+year he was away at school; but as the time drew near
+for the college course and its attendant expenses,
+the sisters were sadly troubled.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We might sell,&#8221; suggested Tabitha, a
+little choke in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>Rachel started.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, sister!--sell? Oh, no, we couldn&#8217;t
+do that!&#8221; she shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But what can we do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do?--why lots of things!&#8221; Rachel&#8217;s
+lips came together with a snap. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+coming berry time, and there&#8217;s our chickens,
+and the garden did beautifully last year. Then there&#8217;s
+your lace work and my knitting-- they bring something.
+Sell? Oh--we couldn&#8217;t do that!&#8221; And she
+abruptly left the room and went out into the yard.
+There she lovingly trained a wayward vine with new
+shoots going wrong, and gloated over the rosebushes
+heavy with crimson buds.</p>
+
+<p>But as the days and weeks flew by and September drew
+the nearer, Rachel&#8217;s courage failed her. Berries
+had been scarce, the chickens had died, the garden
+had suffered from drought, and but for their lace and
+knitting work, their income would have dwindled to
+a pitiful sum indeed. Ralph had been gone all summer;
+he had asked to go camping and fishing with some of
+his school friends. He was expected home a week before
+the college opened, however.</p>
+
+<p>Tabitha grew more and more restless every day. Finally
+she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rachel, we&#8217;ll have to sell--there isn&#8217;t
+any other way. It would bring a lot,&#8221; she continued
+hurriedly, before her sister could speak, &#8220;and
+we could find some pretty rooms somewhere. It wouldn&#8217;t
+be so very dreadful!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t, Tabitha! Seems as though I couldn&#8217;t
+bear even to speak of it. Sell?--oh, Tabitha!&#8221;
+Then her voice changed from a piteous appeal to one
+of forced conviction.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We couldn&#8217;t get anywhere near what it&#8217;s
+worth, Tabitha, anyway. No one here wants it or can
+afford to buy it for what it ought to bring. It is
+really absurd to think of it. Of course, if I had an
+offer--a good big one--that would be quite another
+thing; but there&#8217;s no hope of that.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Rachel&#8217;s lips said &#8220;hope,&#8221; but her
+heart said &#8220;danger,&#8221; and the latter was
+what she really meant. She did not know that but two
+hours before, a stranger had said to a Fairtown lawyer:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I want a summer home in this locality. You
+don&#8217;t happen to know of a good old treasure
+of a homestead for sale, do you?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I do not,&#8221; replied the lawyer. &#8220;There&#8217;s
+a place on the edge of the village that would be just
+the ticket, but I don&#8217;t suppose it could be
+bought for love nor money.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Where is it?&#8221; asked the man eagerly.
+&#8220;You never know what money can do-- to say nothing
+of love--till you try.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer chuckled softly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the Hapgood place. I&#8217;ll drive
+you over to-morrow. It&#8217;s owned by two old maids,
+and they worship every stick and stone and blade of
+grass that belongs to it. However, I happen to know
+that cash is rather scarce with them--and there&#8217;s
+ample chance for love, if the money fails,&#8221; he
+added, with a twitching of his lips.</p>
+
+<p>When the two men drove into the yard that August morning,
+the Hapgood twins were picking nasturtiums, and the
+flaming yellows and scarlets lighted up their somber
+gowns, and made patches of brilliant color against
+the gray of the house.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By Jove, it&#8217;s a picture!&#8221; exclaimed
+the would-be purchaser.</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer smiled and sprang to the ground. Introductions
+swiftly followed, then he cleared his throat in some
+embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ahem! I&#8217;ve brought Mr. Hazelton up here,
+ladies, because he was interested in your beautiful
+place.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Rachel smiled--the smile of proud possession;
+then something within her seemed to tighten, and she
+caught her breath sharply.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is fine!&#8221; murmured Hazelton; &#8220;and
+the view is grand!&#8221; he continued, his eyes on
+the distant hills. Then he turned abruptly. &#8220;Ladies,
+I believe in coming straight to the point. I want
+a summer home, and--I want this one. Can I tempt you
+to part with it?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, no!&#8221; began Rachel almost fiercely.
+Then her voice sank to a whisper; &#8220;I--I don&#8217;t
+think you could.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But, sister,&#8221; interposed Tabitha, her
+face alight, &#8220;you know you said-- that is, there
+are circumstances--perhaps he would--p-pay enough--&#8221;
+Her voice stumbled over the hated word, then stopped,
+while her face burned scarlet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pay!--no human mortal could pay for this house!&#8221;
+flashed Rachel indignantly. Then she turned to Hazelton,
+her slight form drawn to its greatest height, and
+her hands crushing the flowers, she held till the
+brittle stems snapped, releasing a fluttering shower
+of scarlet and gold. &#8220;Mr. Hazelton, to carry
+out certain wishes very near to our hearts, we need
+money. We will show you the place, and--and we will
+consider your offer,&#8221; she finished faintly.
+It was a dreary journey the sisters took that morning,
+though the garden never had seemed lovelier, nor the
+rooms more sacredly beautiful. In the end, Hazelton&#8217;s
+offer was so fabulously enormous to their unwilling
+ears that their conscience forbade them to refuse
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll have the necessary papers ready
+to sign in a few days,&#8221; said the lawyer as the
+two gentlemen turned to go. And Hazelton added: &#8220;If
+at any time before that you change your minds and
+find you cannot give it up-- just let me know and
+it will be all right. Just think it over till then,&#8221;
+he said kindly, the dumb woe in their eyes appealing
+to him as the loudest lamentations could not have
+done. &#8220;But if you don&#8217;t mind, I&#8217;d
+like to have an architect, who is in town just now,
+come up and look it over with me,&#8221; he finished.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Certainly, sir, certainly,&#8221; said Rachel,
+longing for the man to go. But when he was gone, she
+wished him back--anything would be better than this
+aimless wandering from room to room, and from yard
+to garden and back again.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose <i>he</i> will sit here,&#8221;
+murmured Tabitha, dropping wearily on to the settee
+under the apple-trees.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I suppose so,&#8221; her sister assented. &#8220;I
+wonder if <i>she</i> knows how to grow roses;
+they&#8217;ll certainly die if she doesn&#8217;t!&#8221;
+And Rachel crushed a worm under her foot with unnecessary
+vigor.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I hope they&#8217;ll tend to the vines
+on the summerhouse, Rachel, and the pansies--you don&#8217;t
+think they&#8217;ll let them run to seed, do you? Oh,
+dear!&#8221; And Tabitha sprang nervously to her feet
+and started backyto the house.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hazelton appeared the next morning with two men--an
+architect and a landscape gardener. Rachel was in
+the summerhouse, and the first she knew of their presence
+was the sound of talking outside.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ll want to grade it down there,&#8221;
+she heard a strange voice say, &#8220;and fill in
+that little hollow; clear away all those rubbishy posies,
+and mass your flowering shrubs in the background. Those
+roses are no particular good, I fancy; we&#8217;ll
+move such as are worth anything, and make a rose-bed
+on the south side--we&#8217;ll talk over the varieties
+you want, later. Of course these apple-trees and those
+lilacs will be cut down, and this summerhouse will
+be out of the way. You&#8217;ll be surprised-- a few
+changes will do wonders, and--&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He stopped abruptly. A woman, tall, flushed, and angry-eyed,
+stood before him in the path. She opened her lips,
+but no sound came--Mr. Hazelton was lifting his hat.
+The flush faded, and her eyes closed as though to
+shut out some painful sight; then she bowed her head
+with a proud gesture, and sped along the way to the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Once inside, she threw herself, sobbing, upon the
+bed. Tabitha found her there an hour later.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You poor dear--they&#8217;ve gone now,&#8221;
+she comforted.</p>
+
+<p>Rachel raised her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re going to cut down everything--every
+single thing!&#8221; she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it,&#8221; choked Tabitha, &#8220;and
+they&#8217;re going to tear out lots of doors inside,
+and build in windows and things. Oh, Rachel,--what
+shall we do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, oh, I don&#8217;t know!&#8221;
+moaned the woman on the bed, diving into the pillows
+and hugging them close to her head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We--we might give up selling--he said we could
+if we wanted to.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But there&#8217;s Ralph!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I know it. Oh, dear--what can we do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Rachel suddenly sat upright.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do? Why, we&#8217;ll stand it, of course. We
+just mustn&#8217;t mind if he turns the house into
+a hotel and the yard into a--a pasture!&#8221; she
+said hysterically. &#8220;We must just think of Ralph
+and of his being a doctor. Come, let&#8217;s go to
+the village and see if we can rent that tenement of
+old Mrs. Goddard&#8217;s.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With a long sigh and a smothered sob, Tabitha went
+to get her hat.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Goddard greeted the sisters effusively, and displayed
+her bits of rooms and the tiny square of yard with
+the plainly expressed wish that the place might be
+their home.</p>
+
+<p>The twins said little, but their eyes were troubled.
+They left with the promise to think it over and let
+Mrs. Goddard know.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t suppose rooms could be so little,&#8221;
+whispered Tabitha, as they closed the gate behind
+them.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We couldn&#8217;t grow as much as a sunflower
+in that yard,&#8221; faltered Rachel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, anyhow, we could have some houseplants!&#8221;--Tabitha
+tried to speak cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Indeed we could!&#8221; agreed Rachel, rising
+promptly to her sister&#8217;s height; &#8220;and,
+after all, little rooms are lots cheaper to heat than
+big ones.&#8221; And there the matter ended for the
+time being.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Hazelton and the lawyer with the necessary papers
+appeared a few days later. As the lawyer took off
+his hat he handed a letter to Miss Rachel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I stepped into the office and got your mail,&#8221;
+he said genially.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Thank you,&#8221; replied the lady, trying
+to smile. &#8220;It&#8217;s from Ralph,&#8221;-- handing
+it over for her sister to read.</p>
+
+<p>Both the ladies were in somber black; a ribbon or
+a brooch seemed out of place to them that day. Tabitha
+broke the seal of the letter, and retired to the light
+of the window to read it.</p>
+
+<p>The papers were spread on the table, and the pen was
+in Rachel&#8217;s hand when a scream from Tabitha
+shattered the oppressive silence of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stop--stop--oh, stop!&#8221; she cried, rushing
+to her sister and snatching the pen from her fingers.
+&#8220;We don&#8217;t have to--see--read!&#8221;--pointing
+to the postscript written in a round, boyish hand.</p>
+
+<p>Oh, I say, I&#8217;ve got a surprise for you. You
+think I&#8217;ve been fishing and loafing all summer,
+but I&#8217;ve been working for the hotels here the
+whole time. I&#8217;ve got a fine start on my money
+for college, and I&#8217;ve got a chance to work for
+my board all this year by helping Professor Heaton.
+I met him here this summer, and he&#8217;s the right
+sort--every time. I&#8217;ve intended all along to
+help myself a bit when it came to the college racket,
+but I didn&#8217;t mean to tell you until I knew I
+could do it. But it&#8217;s a sure thing now.</p>
+
+<p>Bye-bye; I&#8217;ll be home next Saturday.</p>
+
+<p>Your aff. nephew,</p>
+
+<p>Ralph.</p>
+
+<p>Rachel had read this aloud, but her voice ended in
+a sob instead of in the boy&#8217;s name. Hazelton
+brushed the back of his hand across his eyes, and
+the lawyer looked intently out the window. For a moment
+there was a silence that could be felt, then Hazelton
+stepped to the table and fumbled noisily with the
+papers.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ladies, I withdraw my offer,&#8221; he announced.
+&#8220;I can&#8217;t afford to buy this house--I can&#8217;t
+possibly afford it--it&#8217;s too expensive.&#8221;
+And without another word he left the room, motioning
+the lawyer to follow.</p>
+
+<p>The sisters looked into each other&#8217;s eyes and
+drew a long, sobbing breath.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Rachel, is it true?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Tabitha! Let&#8217;s--let&#8217;s go out
+under the apple-trees and--just know that they are
+there!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And hand in hand they went.</p>
+
+<p style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps">The End </p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Across the Years, by Eleanor H. Porter
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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