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diff --git a/old/acros10h.htm b/old/acros10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..51e9d0f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/acros10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9016 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii" ?> +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "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 } + h2 { margin-top: 1.5em } + li.toc { font-variant: small-caps } + p.smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + --> + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +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 +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**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] +[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: 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 + + + + + + +</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’ 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.</p> + +<h1><a name="chap_01"></a>When Father and Mother Rebelled</h1> + +<p>“’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.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know, Samuel,” 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. +“Hm!” he murmured. “I’ve got +ten neckerchiefs now. How many crocheted bed-slippers +you got?--eh?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Samuel!” remonstrated Lydia Ann feebly.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“But, Samuel, they’re good an’ kind, +an’ want ter give us somethin’,” +faltered Lydia Ann; “and--”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“My grief an’ conscience, Samuel,--how +can you talk so!” gasped the little woman opposite.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” nodded Lydia Ann timidly.</p> + +<p>“Well, ain’t there somethin’ you +can think of sides slippers you’d like for Christmas--’specially +as you never wear crocheted bed-slippers?”</p> + +<p>Lydia Ann stirred uneasily. “Why, of course, +Samuel,” she began hesitatingly, “bed-slippers +are very nice, an’--”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t--’pon honor!”</p> + +<p>“But it’s so silly,” faltered Lydia +Ann, her cheeks a deeper pink. “Me-- an old +woman!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“It’s--it’s a tree.”</p> + +<p>“Dampers and doughnuts!” ejaculated Samuel, +his jaw dropping. “A tree!”</p> + +<p>“There, I knew you’d laugh,” quavered +Lydia Ann, catching up her knitting.</p> + +<p>“Laugh? Not a bit of it!” averred Samuel +stoutly. “I--I want a tree myself!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my grief an’ conscience--Samuel!” +quavered Lydia Ann.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Samuel, could we?” cried Lydia Ann, incredulous +but joyous. “Could we, really?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<hr width="75%" size="1" /> + +<p>A week before Christmas Samuel Bertram’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’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.</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 “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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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’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>“Why, it’s not so bad we were late, after +all,” cried Ella. “This is fine--now we +can all go together!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s silence; then Ella flushed. +“Why! didn’t--didn’t you tell them?” +she stammered.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>Ned shook his head. “Not I,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Why, then--then they don’t know,” +cried Ella, aghast. “They don’t know a +thing!”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, come on,” laughed Ned. “What +difference does it make?”</p> + +<p>“’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!”</p> + +<p>“But, Ella, they’re expecting six of us +tomorrow,” remonstrated Frank.</p> + +<p>“Very true. But that’s not ten of us today.”</p> + +<p>“I know; but so far as the work is concerned, +you girls always do the most of that,” cut in +Ned.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“Why, what--” 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 “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.</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>“Well?” greeted half a dozen voices; and +one added: “What did they say?”</p> + +<p>Frank shook his head and dropped into the nearest +chair. “I--I didn’t tell them,” +he stammered faintly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“A party!” shrieked half a dozen voices.</p> + +<p>“Yes; and a tree, and a dance, and ice cream, +and pink peppermints,” Frank enumerated in one +breath.</p> + +<p>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?”</p> + +<p>“Father and Mother,” returned Frank, his +lips twitching a little. “And they’ve +got old Uncle Tim and half a dozen others for guests.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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. “Oh, I say, Ella,” +he remonstrated, “you didn’t get those +for presents, did you?”</p> + +<p>“But I did. Why not?” questioned Ella.</p> + +<p>“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--”</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” interrupted Ella airily. +“Mother’s a dear, and she won’t +care if she does get two pairs.”</p> + +<p>“But she won’t want three pairs,” +groaned Frank; “and I got slippers too!”</p> + +<p>There was a moment of dismayed silence, then everybody +laughed.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>Frank stirred suddenly and walked the length of the +room. Then he wheeled about.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” he said, a little unsteadily, +“I believe that’s a mistake?”</p> + +<p>“A mistake? What’s a mistake?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“But what--can--we do?” stammered Ella.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But--buy what?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“Well, we had it--that tree!” chuckled +Samuel, as he somewhat stiffly thrust himself into +his clothes.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>Samuel bridled, but his movements showed a perceptible +increase of speed.</p> + +<p>“Well, I do’ know,” he chuckled.</p> + +<p>“‘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!”</p> + +<p>The tree and the peppermints had scarcely disappeared +from the “front room” when Frank arrived.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Ready!” 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 “One, +two, three!” whisked off the cloth.</p> + +<p>For one amazed instant there was absolute silence; +then Lydia Ann drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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, +“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.</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’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>“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.</p> + +<p>Samuel cleared his throat.</p> + +<p>“Well, ye see, we--yes, last night, we--we--” +He could say no more.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“A party? Good! I’m glad of it. Did you +enjoy it?” he asked.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“’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!”</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. “Of course, if--if +you picked ’em out ’specially for us--” +she began hesitatingly, her eyes anxiously scanning +the perturbed faces of her children.</p> + +<p>“We did--especially,” came the prompt +reply.</p> + +<p>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!”</p> + +<p>“You certainly will!” declared Frank. +And this time he did not even try to hide the shake +in his voice.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” breathed Lydia Ann blissfully. “Samuel, +I--I think I’ll take a fig, please!”</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’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.”</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’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.</p> + +<p>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!</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’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>“Whoa, Ann, whoa!” 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>“Good-morning, Miss Prue,” called a boyish +voice.</p> + +<p>“Good-morning,” snapped the woman, and +jerked the reins again.</p> + +<p>Miss Prue awoke then to the sudden realization that +if the other’s speed had accelerated, so, too, +had her own.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</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’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 “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!</p> + +<p>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.</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>Incredulously the youth stared; then, emboldened, +he plunged on recklessly:</p> + +<p>“I say, you know, Miss Prue, that little horse +of yours can run!”</p> + +<p>Miss Prue stiffened. With a jerk she straightened +her bonnet and thrust her glasses on her nose.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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!”</p> + +<h1><a name="chap_03"></a>The Axminster Path</h1> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“And Kathie?” asked the woman, turning +her head with the groping uncertainty of the blind.</p> + +<p>“Here, mother,” answered a cheery voice. +“I’m right here by the window.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” And the woman smiled happily. “Painting, +I suppose, as usual.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Very well, dearie,” returned her daughter. +“You shall have it right away,” 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>“’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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear, I know,” murmured Margaret +hastily. “And now the tea, Mother--it’s +getting colder every minute. Will you have the orange +first?”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But I want to do it,” laughed Margaret. +“Don’t you want me?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Why, I thought,” she began slowly, “I’d +stay here with you and Katherine a while.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whitmore set down her empty cup and turned a +troubled face toward the sound of her daughter’s +voice.</p> + +<p>“Meg, dear,” she remonstrated, “is +it that fancy-work?”</p> + +<p>“Well, isn’t fancy-work all right?” +The girl’s voice shook a little.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Whitmore stirred uneasily.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Mother!” Margaret was on her feet, and +Katherine had dropped her work. “Mother!” +they cried again.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“Katherine, what shall we do? This thing is +killing me!”</p> + +<p>The elder girl’s lips tightened. For an instant +she paused in her work-- but for only an instant.</p> + +<p>“I know,” she said feverishly; “but +we mustn’t give up--we mustn’t!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Then we’ll go out and--tell her we dance.”</p> + +<p>“But there’s the work.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Margaret sprang to her feet and walked twice the length +of the room.</p> + +<p>“But I’ve--lied so much already!” +she moaned, pausing before her sister. “It’s +all a lie--my whole life!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</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’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’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’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.</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’s +words: “We mustn’t give up--we mustn’t!”</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 “no” might have been a +“yes.”</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>“Sweets to the sweet!” he cried gayly, +as he patted the slim hand on the arm of the chair.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Dear me, how independent we are going to be!” +laughed the doctor. “And so we don’t need +any more attention now, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Betty will do.”</p> + +<p>“Betty?” It was hard, sometimes, for the +doctor to remember.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“No?” returned the doctor easily, sure +now of where he stood. “But you don’t +expect me to interfere in this housekeeping business!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Mother, <i>dearest!</i>” broke in +Margaret feverishly, with an imploring glance toward +her sister and the doctor.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but--” began Margaret, and paused +at a gesture from her mother.</p> + +<p>“There aren’t any ‘buts’ about +it,” declared Mrs. Whitmore. “Meg shall +go.”</p> + +<p>“Of course she’ll go!” echoed Katherine. +And with three against her, Margaret’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>“Doctor,” she whispered, “where +am I?”</p> + +<p>“At home, in your own bed.” “Where +is this place?”</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>“Where is this place?” begged the woman +again.</p> + +<p>“Why, it--it--is--” 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>“Doctor, did you ever know--did you ever hear +that a fall could give back--sight?”</p> + +<p>Dr. Littlejohn started and peered into the wan face +lying back on the pillow. Its impassiveness reassured +him.</p> + +<p>“Why, perhaps--once or twice,” he returned +slowly, falling back into his old position, “though +rarely--very rarely.”</p> + +<p>“But it has happened?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it has happened. There was a case recently +in England. The shock and blow released the pressure +on the optic nerve; but--”</p> + +<p>Something in the face he was watching brought him +suddenly forward in his chair. “My dear woman, +you don’t mean--you can’t--”</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>“Doctor,” she said, “that picture +on the wall there at the foot of the bed--it doesn’t +hang quite straight.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Whitmore!” breathed the man incredulously, +half rising from his chair.</p> + +<p>“Hush! Not yet!” The woman’s insistent +hand had pulled him back. “Why am I here? Where +is this place?”</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>“Doctor, you must tell me. I must know.”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“Margaret! It is Margaret, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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’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’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.</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>“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!”</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>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I like a hoss, myself,” he said then, +with some dignity. “I want somethin’ that’s +alive!”</p> + +<p>Diantha laughed slyly. The danger was past, and she +could afford to be merry.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>Phineas bridled.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>To Phineas it seemed that a cold hand clutched his +heart.</p> + +<p>“Dianthy, you wouldn’t really--ride in +one!” he faltered.</p> + +<p>Until that moment Diantha had not been sure that she +would, but the quaver in Phineas’s voice decided +her.</p> + +<p>“Wouldn’t I? You jest wait an’ see!”</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’s +account of the ride.</p> + +<p>“It was perfectly lovely,” she breathed. +“Oh, Phineas, it was jest like flyin’!”</p> + +<p>“‘Flyin’!’” Phineas +could say no more. He felt as if he were choking,--choking with the dust raised by Dolly’s plodding +hoofs.</p> + +<p>“An’ the trees an’ the houses swept +by like ghosts,” continued Diantha. “Why, +Phineas, I could ‘a’ rode on an’ +on furever!”</p> + +<p>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!</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“<i>Phineas</i>!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said nonchalantly. “I’m +goin’ ter Boston next week ter pick one out. +I cal’late on gettin’ a purty good one.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Phineas! But how--how you goin’ ter +run it?”</p> + +<p>Phineas’s chin came up.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>The name Smith to Phineas was like a match to gunpowder. +He flamed instantly into wrath.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“Why, Phineas, you don’t look well!” +Diantha exclaimed when she saw him.</p> + +<p>“Well? Oh, I’m well.”</p> + +<p>“An’ did you buy it--that autymobile?”</p> + +<p>“I did.” Phineas’s voice was triumphant. +Diantha’s eyes sparkled.</p> + +<p>“Where is it?” she demanded.</p> + +<p>“Comin’--next week.”</p> + +<p>“An’ did you try ’em all, as you +said you would?”</p> + +<p>Phineas stirred; then he sighed.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But it must have been grand, Phineas! I should +have loved it!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it was, ’course!” assured Phineas, +hastily.</p> + +<p>“An’ you’ll take me ter ride, right +away?” If Phineas hesitated it was for only +a moment.</p> + +<p>“‘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.</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 “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.</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’s +door.</p> + +<p>“Now ain’t that pretty,” quavered +Diantha excitedly. “Ain’t that awful pretty!”</p> + +<p>Phineas beamed.</p> + +<p>“Purty slick, I think myself,” he acknowledged.</p> + +<p>“An’ green is so much nicer than red,” +cooed Diantha.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Phineas, what was that?” she shivered, +when the voice had moaned into silence.</p> + +<p>Phineas’s lips were dry, and his hands and knees +were shaking; but his pride marched boldly to the +front.</p> + +<p>“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.</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’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>“Oh, ain’t this grand!” 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>“Oh, my! How f-fast we’re goin’!” +cried Diantha, close to his ear.</p> + +<p>Phineas nodded.</p> + +<p>“Who wants ter crawl?” 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>“Why, why--Phineas!” she cried a little +sharply.</p> + +<p>Phineas swallowed the lump in his throat and steadied +himself in his seat.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“No, of course not,” 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 “beautiful +time,” Diantha was set down at her own door.</p> + +<p>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.</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>“Tain’t much like last year, is it, Dianthy?” +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’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>“Look out--she’s got the bits in her teeth!” +he shouted. “She’s bolted!”</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>“Phineas! Phineas!”</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>“Phineas! Phineas!”</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’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>“She’s all stove up--an’ now you +won’t ever say yes,” he moaned. “You +wanted ter ride on an’ on furever!”</p> + +<p>“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’!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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’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’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!”</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>“I beg your pardon, but-did you speak--to me?” +I asked, turning to him hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>The old man met my eyes with an abashed smile.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“About Mrs. Whitermore? Yes, I heard.”</p> + +<p>His face darkened.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?</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 “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.</p> + +<p>“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>.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I can imagine it,” I nodded.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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’.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“And was--he?” demanded I.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</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 “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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I may, you know, here,” he said, “for +I am among my own people. I am at home.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“<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.”</p> + +<p>I knew then. So did my neighbor, the old man at my +side. He jogged my elbow frantically and whispered:--</p> + +<p>“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?”</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>“<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.”</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’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>“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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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--“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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</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>“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.”</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’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>“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!”</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>“Well, now, ain’t that the limit, Sue? +And her such an ordinary woman, too!”</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’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.</p> + +<p>“It’ll be so much nicer, mother,--no care +for you!” Sarah Ellen had declared.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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’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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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’--”</p> + +<p>“We hain’t got the farm,” cut in +her husband sharply. “William an’ Sarah +Ellen’s got it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know, but they--why, they’re <i>us</i>, +Jeremiah,” reminded Hester, trying to keep the +quaver out of her voice.</p> + +<p>“Mebbe, Hester, mebbe,” 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 +“uncle and aunt” pay them a little visit.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>William frowned a little and stroked his beard.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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--”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>And he handed out the bill, and dropped the change +into his pocket.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, William,” stammered the old +man. “I--I’m sorry--”</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“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.</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’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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“’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!”</p> + +<p>“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!</p> + +<hr width="75%" size="1" /> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I know, Jeremiah, but there’s William,” +murmured Hester. “I’m sure he--”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course, he’d give it to me,” +cried Jeremiah quickly; “but--I--I sort of hate +to ask.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“I know, William, I’m sorry,” stammered +the old man miserably.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“Hester,” he cried sharply, “put +out your foot.”</p> + +<p>Hester did not hear--apparently. She lowered the paper +she was reading and laughed a little hysterically.</p> + +<p>“Such a good joke, Jeremiah!” she quavered. +“Just let me read it. A man--”</p> + +<p>“Hester, be them the best shoes you’ve +got?” demanded Jeremiah.</p> + +<p>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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“But the farm, Jeremiah--”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Jere-mi-ah!”</p> + +<p>“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.</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’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.</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’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>“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.</p> + +<p>William paled under his coat of tan. He gripped his +wife’s arm with fingers that hurt.</p> + +<p>“What is it--what’s happened?” he +asked hoarsely. “They aren’t hurt or--dead?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Again William Whipple gripped his wife’s arm +with fingers that hurt.</p> + +<p>“Sarah Ellen, quit that crying, for Heaven’s +sake! What does this mean? What are you talking about?” +he demanded.</p> + +<p>Sarah Ellen sopped her eyes with her handkerchief +and lifted her head.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, go on,” urged William impatiently, +as Sarah Ellen paused for breath.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I always let them have--” began +William defensively; then he stopped short, a slow +red staining his face.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Father!” exclaimed William. “But +I thought you said ’twas mother. Surely father +isn’t knitting socks and mittens, is he?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“But it’s money, William, that they want. +Don’t you see?”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll give them money, then. I +always have, anyway,--when they asked for it,” +finished William in an aggrieved voice.</p> + +<p>Sarah Ellen shook her head.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Well, ’tis now--in a way.”</p> + +<p>“I know--but we haven’t acted as if it +were. I can see that now, when it’s too late.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll give it back, then,” cried +William, his face clearing; “the whole blamed +farm!”</p> + +<p>Sarah Ellen frowned. She shook her head slowly, then +paused, a dawning question in her eyes.</p> + +<p>“You don’t suppose--William, could we?” +she cried with sudden eagerness.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Why, Jeremiah, what--how--”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<h1><a name="chap_07"></a>The Long Road</h1> + +<p>“Jane!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, father.”</p> + +<p>“Is the house locked up?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Are ye sure, now?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, dear; I just did it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, won’t ye see?”</p> + +<p>“But I have seen, father.” 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>“Seems ter me, Jane, ye might jest see,” +he fretted. “’T ain’t much I’m +askin’ of ye, an’ ye know them spoons--”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, dear, I’ll go,” interrupted +the woman hurriedly.</p> + +<p>“And, Jane!”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“An’ ye might count ’em--them spoons,” +said the old man.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“An’ the forks.”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“An’ them photygraph pictures in the parlor.”</p> + +<p>“All right, father.” 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>“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’.”</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’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’s +arrival, and followed her about the house with unfailing +persistence.</p> + +<p>“But, Mary, he won’t hurt you. Why do +you run?” remonstrated Jane.</p> + +<p>Mary shuddered and covered her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>“Jane, Jane, how can you take it so calmly!” +she moaned. “How can you bear it?”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s pause. A curious expression +had come to Jane’s face.</p> + +<p>“Some one--has to,” 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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know. Where is he?”</p> + +<p>“In the kitchen. I--I tied him. He just would +go, and I couldn’t hold him.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Home, Jane. I want ter go home.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Home!” chuckled the old man gleefully.</p> + +<p>“We’ve come home!”</p> + +<p>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.</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But she’s got to live somewhere!” +Mary’s voice was fretful, questioning.</p> + +<p>For a moment there was silence; then Edgar stirrad +in his chair.</p> + +<p>“Well, why can’t she go to you, Mary?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“Me!” Mary almost screamed the word.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Well, maybe Jane could help.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Well, but--” Edgar paused impotently.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you take her?” It was +Mary who made the suggestion.</p> + +<p>“I? Oh, but I--” Edgar stopped and glanced +uneasily at his wife.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</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’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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</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’clock Wednesday afternoon Edgar met +his sister at the station.</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t see as you’ve changed +much,” he said kindly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Hm-m,” murmured Edgar. “Well, I’m +glad to see you’re--rested.”</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>“Oh, it’s so good of you--to meet me--like +this!” she faltered.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Jane fell back. All the glow fled from her face.</p> + +<p>“Oh, then you did stay at home--and for me! +I’m so sorry,” she stammered.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Pendergast raised a deprecatory hand.</p> + +<p>“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--”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But that is all the more reason why I should +go upstairs, and not put all those children out of +their rooms,” begged Jane.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pendergast shook her head.</p> + +<p>“It does them good,” she said decidely, +“to learn to be self-sacrificing. That is a +virtue we all must learn to practice.”</p> + +<p>Jane flushed again; then she turned abruptly. “Julia, +did you want me to--to come to see you?” she +asked.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Jane smiled faintly, but her eyes were troubled.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Hm-m; no,” 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>“Why, Jane, did you find your way here all alone?” +she cried.</p> + +<p>“Yes--no--well, I asked a man at the last; but, +you know, I’ve been here twice before with the +others.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,” said Mary.</p> + +<p>There was a pause; then Jane cleared her throat timidly.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>Jane gave her a grateful glance.</p> + +<p>“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’!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” 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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Are we really stalled, Will?” asked the +girl.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“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”</p> + +<p>The old lady sat suddenly erect in her chair.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Will”--the girl’s voice shook--“Will, +that was Aunt Jane’s house. That old lady--told +me.”</p> + +<p>“Aunt Jane?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes--the little gray-haired woman that +came to live with us two months ago. You know her.”</p> + +<p>“Why, y-yes; I think I’ve--seen her.”</p> + +<p>The girl winced, as from a blow.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Belle!”--the tone was an indignant protest.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” exclaimed the young fellow, +under his breath.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she has been, hasn’t she?”</p> + +<p>The girl shook her head.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m sure you’ve been--good +to her.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But you’ll do differently now, dear,--now +that you understand.”</p> + +<p>Again the girl shook her head.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“We’re--going--to--Aunt Jane!”</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: +“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.</p> + +<p>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.</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’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>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“Say, Emily,” said he, “you’d +oughter have a hired girl. ’T ain’t your +place to be doin’ work like this now.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Gray gasped--half terrified, half pleased--and +shook her head; but her husband was not to be silenced.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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’s wife.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</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>“There!” he announced in high glee, “I’m +goin’ to have a bang-up good time!”</p> + +<p>“Why, Reuben,” remonstrated his wife gently, +“you can’t eat them things-- you hain’t +got no teeth to chew ’em with!”</p> + +<p>The man’s lower jaw dropped.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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.</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 “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:</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“Say, Em’ly, when folks have money they +travel. Let’s go somewhere!”</p> + +<p>“Why, Reuben--where?” quavered his wife, +dropping into the nearest chair.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I dunno,” with cheerful vagueness; +then, suddenly animated, “Let’s go to +Boston and see the sights!”</p> + +<p>“But, Reuben, we don’t know no one there,” +ventured his wife doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“Pooh! What if we don’t? Hain’t +we got money? Can’t we stay at a hotel? Well, +I guess we can!”</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’ +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>“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.”</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>“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.</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 “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.</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>“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.</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>“Where can I get somethin’ to eat?”</p> + +<p>“Luncheon is being served in the main dining-room +on the first floor, sir.”</p> + +<p>Visions of a lunch as he knew it in Emily’s +pantry came to him, and he looked a little dubious.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m pretty hungry; but if that’s +all I can get I suppose it will have to do.”</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 “chicken” +halfway down the card, he pointed to it in relief.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>The waiter comprehended at once.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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 “<i>Boiled Dinner To-day, +Served Hot at All Hours</i>,” Reuben could +endure it no longer.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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’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’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.”</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’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’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>“How do you do, Mis’ Gray. Won’t +you come in?” said she civilly, looking mildly +surprised.</p> + +<p>“No, thank you--yes--I mean--I came to see you,” +stammered Emily confusedly.</p> + +<p>“You’re very good,” murmured the +woman, still standing in the doorway.</p> + +<p>“Your flowers are so pretty,” ventured +Mrs. Gray, unable to keep the wistfulness out of her +voice.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>The other laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, thank you!” exclaimed Emily, as she +quickly pulled up an enormous weed at her feet.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Why, Reuben Gray! Whatever in the world are +<i>you</i> doing?”</p> + +<p>For a moment the man was crushed with the enormity +of his crime; then he caught sight of his wife’s +dirt-stained fingers.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess I ain’t doin’ no +worse than you be!” 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: “Reuben, do you want +the little house back?”</p> + +<p>A glad light leaped into the old man’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Em’ly--would you be willin’ to?”</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>“Come, dear; I think we’d better go down +to-night.”</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>“You wan’t thinkin’ of sellin’, +was ye?” began Reuben insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>The younger man’s eyelid quivered a little. +“Well, no,--I can’t hardly say that I +was. I hain’t but just bought.”</p> + +<p>Reuben hitched his chair a bit and glanced at Emily.</p> + +<p>“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?”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes--peanuts, for instance,” 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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Hm-m,”--the low rocker swayed gently +to and fro,--“Katy’s been ter college, +same as Alma, ye know.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; an’--an’ that’s what +Jim was talkin’ ‘bout He was feelin’ +bad-powerful bad.”</p> + +<p>“Bad!”--the rocker stopped abruptly. “Why, +Nathan!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>The man stirred restlessly.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“I--I wouldn’t ‘a’ spoke of +it,” stammered the man, with painful hesitation, +“only--well, ye see, I--you-” he stopped +helplessly.</p> + +<p>“I know,” faltered the little woman. “You +was thinkin’ of--Alma.”</p> + +<p>“She wouldn’t do it--Alma wouldn’t!” +retorted the man sharply, almost before his wife had +ceased speaking.</p> + +<p>“No, no, of course not; but--Nahtan, ye <i>don’t</i> +think Alma’d ever be--<i>ashamed</i> of +us, do ye?”</p> + +<p>“’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.”</p> + +<p>“Nathan, I--I think that’s ‘co-rectin’,’” +suggested the woman, a little breathlessly.</p> + +<p>The man turned and gazed at his wife without speaking. +Then his jaw fell.</p> + +<p>“Well, by sugar, Mary! <i>You</i> ain’t +a-goin’ ter begin it, be ye?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Why, no, ‘course not!” she laughed +confusedly. “An’--an’ Alma wouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“’Course Alma wouldn’t,” echoed +her husband. “Come, it’s time ter shut +up the house.”</p> + +<p>The date of Alma’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>“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’--”</p> + +<p>“That’s jest what I asked Jim ter-day, +Mary,” cut in Nathan excitedly.</p> + +<p>“Nathan, you didn’t, now! Oh, I’m +so glad! An’ we’ll do ’em, won’t +we?-- jest ter please her?”</p> + +<p>“’Course we will!”</p> + +<p>“Ye see it’s four years since she was +here, Nathan, what with her teachin’ summers.”</p> + +<p>“Sugar, now! Is it? It hain’t seemed so +long.”</p> + +<p>“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.’”</p> + +<p>The man frowned, and made an impatient gesture.</p> + +<p>“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’.”</p> + +<p>“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.’”</p> + +<p>“Yes; an’, Nathan, ain’t my black +silk--”</p> + +<p>“Ahem! I’m a-thinkin’ it wa’n’t +me that said ‘ain’t’ that time,” +interposed Nathan.</p> + +<p>“Dear, dear, Nathan!--did I? Oh, dear, what +<i>will</i> Alma say?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Yet it was Nathan who asked, just as his wife was +dropping off to sleep that night:--</p> + +<p>“Mary, is it three o’ them collars I’ve +got, or four?--b’iled ones, I mean.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Does it--I mean, <i>do</i> it?” +quavered the little woman excitedly. “Oh, Alma, +I <i>am</i> glad ter see ye!”</p> + +<p>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.</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’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>“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.</p> + +<p>For a moment the merry-faced girl stared in frank +amazement at her mother; then she laughed gleefully.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Alma, but I didn’t mean----”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, by sugar!” ejaculated the man at +the head of the table.</p> + +<p>“Oh-h-h!” breathed the little woman opposite. +“Oh, Alma, I’m so glad!”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“There!” sighed Alma. “Isn’t +this restful? And isn’t that moon glorious?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kelsey shot a quick look at her husband; then +she cleared her throat nervously.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Alma raised her eyebrows.</p> + +<p>“Hm-m; well, there are still a few points that +I and the astronomers haven’t quite settled,” +she returned, with a whimsical smile.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>Alma laughed; then she assumed an attitude of mock +rapture, and quoted:</p> + +<p class="verse">  “’Scintillate, scintillate, globule vivific,<br /> +   Fain would I fathom thy nature specific;<br /> +   Loftily poised in ether capacious,<br /> +   Strongly resembling the gem carbonaceous.’”</p> + +<p>There was a long silence. Alma’s eyes were on +the flying clouds.</p> + +<p>“Would--would you mind saying that again, Alma?” +asked Mrs. Kelsey at last timidly.</p> + +<p>Alma turned with a start.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said her mother faintly. “Er--thank +you.”</p> + +<p>“I--I guess I’ll go to bed,” announced +Nathan Kelsey suddenly.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Hard at work, dad?” she called affectionately. +“Old Mother Earth won’t yield her increase +without just so much labor, will she?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” cried Alma. “Your foot, father--your’re +crushing something!”</p> + +<p>The flush grew deeper.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</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’s protests and pleadings Mrs. Kelsey +was deaf. Alma’s place was not there, her work +was not housework, declared Alma’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’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’s room.</p> + +<p>“Why, mother!”</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>“Why, mother!” cried Alma again, hurrying +across the room and dropping on her knees at her mother’s +side.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t what, dearie?--give up what?” +demanded Alma.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kelsey shook her head. Then she dropped her hands +and looked fearfully into her daughter’s face.</p> + +<p>“An’ yer father, too, Alma--he’s +tried, an’ he can’t,” she choked.</p> + +<p>“Tried what? What <i>do</i> you mean?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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’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>“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----”</p> + +<p>“Ma-ry?” It was Nathan at the foot of +the back stairway.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Nathan.”</p> + +<p>“Ain’t it ’most supper-time?”</p> + +<p>“Bless my soul!” cried Mrs. Kelsey, springing +to her feet.</p> + +<p>“An’, Mary----”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Hain’t I got a collar--a b’iled +one, on the bureau up there?”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you don’t mind!” 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’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.</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’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.</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’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’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.</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’s comprehension.</p> + +<p>And there was the auction!</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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 “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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But they won’t be--these,” the +old voice had quavered.</p> + +<p>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!”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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’--”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</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>“Oh, there you are! Why, mother, father, where +<i>have</i> you been?”</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>“Why, what--” began John, as his father, +too, turned away. “Why, Edith, you don’t +suppose--” He stopped with a helpless frown.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“Why, Seth, mine ain’t feathers a mite! +Is yours?”</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 “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.</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’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>“It’ll be ’way ahead of the old +one,” he confided to his wife enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>Mrs. John sighed.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</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’s +room.</p> + +<p>“Well, mother, and how are you getting along?” +she asked cheerily.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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’ 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>“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.</p> + +<p>“Maybe it was,” 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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, dear; I may try, surely,” +begged Mrs. John. And her husband laughed and reached +for his check-book.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“You dear!” cried Mrs. John. “And +now I’m going to work.”</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’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’s rooms at the hotel.</p> + +<p>“Come, dears,” she said gayly. “The +house is all ready, and we’re going home.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“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.”</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>“John! Edith!”--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’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.</p> + +<p>“I met old Sam Hadley an’ his wife in +the cemetery just now,” he observed.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” I was careful to express just enough, +and not too much, interest: one had to be circumspect +with Uncle Zeke.</p> + +<p>“Hm-m; I was thinkin’--” Uncle Zeke +paused, shifted his position, and began again. This +time I had the whole story.</p> + +<p>“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:</p> + +<p>“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!</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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’.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“‘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’.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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!</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“’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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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:--</p> + +<p>“’Yes, his pictures. I’ve come fer +’em.’</p> + +<p>“Then she shook her head.</p> + +<p>“‘Meester Hadley did not have any pictures.’</p> + +<p>“’But he must have had ’em,’ +says I, ‘fer them papers an’ magazines +he worked for. He made ’em!’</p> + +<p>“She shook her head again; then she gave a queer +hitch to her shoulders, and a little flourish with +her hands.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh--ze pictures! He did do them--once--a +leetle: months ago.’</p> + +<p>“‘But the prize,’ says I. ‘The +prize ter James Hadley!’</p> + +<p>“Then she laughed as if she suddenly understood.</p> + +<p>“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.’</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Uncle Zeke paused, and drew a long breath. Then he +eyed me almost defiantly.</p> + +<p>“I ain’t sayin’ that Jimmy did right, +of course; but I ain’t sayin’-- that Jimmy +did wrong,” 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>“How be ye, dearie? Yer hain’t wanted +fer nothin’, now, have ye?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Clayton dropped into a chair and pulled listlessly +at the black strings of her bonnet.</p> + +<p>“’T was a beautiful fun’ral, Thaddeus--a +beautiful fun’ral. I--I ’most wished it +was mine.”</p> + +<p>“Harriet!”</p> + +<p>She gave a shamed-faced laugh.</p> + +<p>“Well, I did--then Jehiel and Hannah Jane would +‘a’ come, an’ I could ‘a’ +seen ’em.”</p> + +<p>The horrified look on the old man’s face gave +way to a broad smile.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Harriet--Harriet!” he chuckled, “how +could ye seen ’em if you was dead?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But, Harriet,” demurred the old man, +“surely you’d ‘a’ had them +boys come ter their own mother’s fun’ral!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“I know--I know, dearie,” quavered the +old man, vigorously polishing his glasses.</p> + +<p>“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.’”</p> + +<p>“Well, Harriet, they--they’re pretty good +ter write letters,” ventured Mr. Clayton.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well, wife, mebbe they’ll come--mebbe +they’ll come this summer; who knows?”</p> + +<p>She shook her head dismally.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>In course of time the answers came. Hannah Jane’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’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.</p> + +<p>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.</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’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>“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.”</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>“Thaddeus, I--I had a letter from Jehiel to-day.”</p> + +<p>“You did--and never told me? Why, Harriet, what--” +He paused helplessly.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>He took it, giving her a sharp glance from anxious +eyes. As he began to read aloud she checked him.</p> + +<p>“No; ter yerself, Thaddeus--ter yerself! Then--tell +me.”</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>“Thaddeus, ye don’t mean--he didn’t +say--”</p> + +<p>“Read it--I--I can’t,” 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’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’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’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.</p> + +<p>As ever, your affectionate and dutiful son, JEHIEL</p> + +<p>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.</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>“Harriet, mebbe-” began the old man timidly.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Harriet!”</p> + +<p>“Well, I have. A fun’ral is the only thing +that will fetch Jehiel and--”</p> + +<p>“Harriet, are ye gone crazy? Have ye gone clean +mad?”</p> + +<p>She looked at him appealingly.</p> + +<p>“Now, Thaddeus, don’t try ter hender me, +please. You see it’s the only way. A fun’ral +is the--”</p> + +<p>“A ’fun’ral’--it’s murder!” +he shuddered.</p> + +<p>“Oh, not ter make believe, as I shall,” +she protested eagerly. “It’s--”</p> + +<p>“Make believe!”</p> + +<p>“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’--”</p> + +<p>“Harriet!”</p> + +<p>“There, there, <i>please,</i> Thaddeus! +I’ve jest got ter see Jehiel and Hannah Jane +’fore I die!”</p> + +<p>“But--they--they’ll come if--”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“But, Harriet--”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Why--yes--I believe so,” he acknowledged +dazedly; “but what has that to do--”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>The old man gasped. He could not speak.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</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>“Seems ter me, Harriet, you’re a pretty +lively corpse!”</p> + +<p>His wife smiled, and flushed a little.</p> + +<p>“There, there, dear! don’t fret. Jest +think how glad we’ll be ter see ’em!” +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>“Father, what was it?” sobbed Hannah Jane. +“How did it happen?”</p> + +<p>“It must have been so sudden,” faltered +Jehiel. “It cut me up completely.”</p> + +<p>“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--”</p> + +<p>“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?”</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>“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!”</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>“Dear old mumsey, now that we’ve found +the way home again, I reckon we’ll be coming +every year--don’t you?”</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’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’ 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’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.</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“Yes; we want them rich, but plain,” supplemented +Miss Amelia, rapturously. “Dear me, Priscilla, +but I am tired!”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“Yes,--oh, yes!” breathed Miss Amelia. +“Now let’s hurry with the work so we can +go right down to Mis’ Snow’s.”</p> + +<p><i>"Black</i> silk-<i>black</i> silk!” +ticked the clock to Miss Priscilla washing dishes +at the kitchen sink.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“Of course they do!” almost sobbed Miss +Amelia. “Only think of it, Priscilla, our silk--<i>cracked!</i>”</p> + +<p>“We will just wait until the styles change,” +said Miss Priscilla, with an air of finality. “They +won’t always wear plaits!”</p> + +<p>“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.</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’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 “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.</p> + +<p>“You see, Amelia, it seemed foolish--almost +wicked,” Miss Priscilla was saying, “to +put such a lot of that expensive silk into just sleeves.”</p> + +<p>“I know it,” sighed her sister.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“Priscilla--as if I could!” 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’s +rooms were littered from end to end with black silk +scraps.</p> + +<p>“It’s for Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia,’” +said Mrs. Snow, with tears in her eyes, in answer +to the questions that were asked.</p> + +<p>“It’s their black silk gowns, you know.”</p> + +<p>“But I thought they were ill--almost dying!” +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>“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.”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>The little old woman gave a guilty start and began +to knit vigorously.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>The old man threw a sharp look at her face. “Hm-m, +yes,” he said. “Mebbe ’t is.”</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>“Goes slick, don’t it?” murmured +the man.</p> + +<p>There was no answer. The woman’s eyes were hungrily +devouring the last glimpse of paint and polish.</p> + +<p>“An’ we hain’t been on ’em +’t all yet, have we, Abby?” he continued.</p> + +<p>She drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>“Well, ye see, I--I hain’t had time, Hezekiah,” +she rejoined apologetically.</p> + +<p>“Humph!” 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>“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?”</p> + +<p>A swift flush came into the woman’s cheek.</p> + +<p>“Why, Hezekiah, it’s ever so much cooler +here, an’--” she paused helplessly.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I hain’t neither, an’, by +ginger, I’m agoin’ to!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Hezekiah, Hezekiah, don’t--swear!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“I know it, Hezekiah.”</p> + +<p>“We couldn’t go much when we was younger,” +he resumed. “Even our weddin’ trip was +chopped right off short ’fore it even begun.”</p> + +<p>A tender light came into the dim old eyes opposite.</p> + +<p>“I know, dear, an’ what plans we had!” +cried Abigail; “Boston, an’ Bunker Hill, +an’ Faneuil Hall.”</p> + +<p>The old man suddenly squared his shoulders and threw +back his head.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Abigail nodded mutely. Her eyes were beginning to +shine.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Hezekiah, we--couldn’t!” gasped +the little old woman.</p> + +<p>“Pooh! ’Course we could. Listen!” +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’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>“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.</p> + +<p>“Find a good cool spot to smoke your pipe in, +father,” 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>“Going to Boston, I take it,” said the +young man genially.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” replied Hezehiah, no less +genially. “Ye guessed right the first time.”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Hm-m! great place, Boston,” observed +the stranger. “I’m glad you’re going. +I think you’ll enjoy it.”</p> + +<p>The two wrinkled old faces before him fairly beamed.</p> + +<p>“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’.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Thank ye, sir, thank ye sir,” nodded +Abigail, while Hezekiah offered his hand.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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 “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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But, Abby, we--here, let’s set down,” +Hezekiah finished helplessly.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“What’s up, Bill? Need assistance?” +demanded a voice at his elbow.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Great Scott! Where’d you pick ’em?” +chuckled the younger man.</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” returned the other with +a shrug. “Meet me at Clyde’s in half an +hour. We’ll be there, never fear.”</p> + +<p>Over by the parcel-room an old man looked about him +with anxious eyes.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet only to be pulled back by his +wife.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>For another long minute they silently watched the +crowd. Then Hezekiah squared his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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.</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>“Oh-h,” shuddered Abigail and tightened +her grasp on her husband’s coat.</p> + +<p>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.</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>“Well, well, if here aren’t my friends +again!” 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’stone!"</i> he cried; then +he recollected himself. “We was jest goin’ +ter Bunker Hill,” he said jauntily.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” smiled Livingstone. “But +your luncheon--aren’t you hungry? Come with +me; I was just going to get mine.”</p> + +<p>“But you--I--” Hezekiah paused and looked +doubtingly at his wife.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“I know, but--” She glanced at her husband.</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! Of course you’ll come,” +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>“Well, well, Abby, ain’t this slick?” +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 “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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Warden drew a long breath of delight.</p> + +<p>“I can’t say anythin’, Hezekiah,” +she faltered. “It’s all so beautiful.”</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>“And now, my friend, what do you propose to +do after luncheon?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Across the table the man called Harding choked over +his food and Livingstone frowned.</p> + +<p>“Well,” began Livingstone slowly.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>The old lady opposite grew white, then pink. “Of +course that ain’t wine, Mr. Livingstone?” +she asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Give yourself no uneasiness, my dear Mrs. Warden,” +interposed Harding. “It’s lemonade--pink +lemonade.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>There was an awkward silence, then Harding raised +his glass.</p> + +<p>“Here’s to your health, Mrs. Warden!” +he cried gayly. “May your trip----”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Harding lowered his glass and turned upon her a gravely +attentive face.</p> + +<p>“‘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.”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Warden paused, drew a long breath, and resumed. +Her voice now had a ring of triumph.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“We’ll drink to honeymoon trips in general +and to this one in particular,” 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’s +arm shot out. Then came the tinkle of shattered glass +and a crimson stain where the wine trailed across +the damask.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But, Bill,” muttered Harding under his +breath, “you don’t mean--”</p> + +<p>“But I do,” corrected Livingstone quietly, +looking straight into Harding’s amazed eyes.</p> + +<p>“Mr. and Mrs. Warden are my guests. They are +going to drive to Bunker Hill with me by and by.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>The younger man shook his head.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Hm-m; too bad, too bad!” 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>“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!”</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>“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!</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“Gosh!” muttered the man as he turned +away.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothin’ doin’-but +it did give me a start!”</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>“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.</p> + +<p>“Jim--Aunt Abby sat up ten minutes in bed ter-day. +She called fer toast an’ tea.”</p> + +<p>Jim dropped into a chair. His jaw fell open.</p> + +<p>“S-sat up!” he stammered.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“But she--hang it all, Herrick’s comin’ +ter-morrer with the coffin!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Jim!”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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’?”</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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.</p> + +<p>Jim flushed and raised a warning hand.</p> + +<p>“Sh-h! Herrick, look out!” he whispered +hoarsely. “She ain’t dead yet. You’ll +have ter go back.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Jim, is that you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Aunt Abby.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s come?”</p> + +<p>Jim’s face grew white, then red.</p> + +<p>“C-ome?” he stammered.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I heard a sleigh and voices. Who is it?”</p> + +<p>“Why, jest-jest a man on--on business,” +he flung over his shoulder, as he fled through the +hall.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Who’s in the kitchen, Ella, with Jim?”</p> + +<p>Ella started guiltily.</p> + +<p>“Why, jest a--a man.”</p> + +<p>“Who is it?”</p> + +<p>Ella hesitated; then, knowing that deceit was useless, +she stammered out the truth.</p> + +<p>“Why, er--only Mr. Herrick.”</p> + +<p>“Not William Herrick, the undertaker!” +There was apparently only pleased surprise in the +old woman’s voice.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” nodded Ella feverishly, “he +had business out this way, and--and got snowed up,” +she explained with some haste.</p> + +<p>“Ye don’t say,” murmured the old +woman. “Well, ask him in; I’d like ter +see him.”</p> + +<p>“Aunt Abby!”--Ella’s teeth fairly +chattered with dismay.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’d like ter see him,” repeated +the old woman with cordial interest. “Call him +in.”</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 “the creeps” +to have her ask him where he’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>“’T ain’t no use,” he grumbled. +“I calc’late I’m booked here till +the crack o’ doom!”</p> + +<p>“An’ ter-morrer’s the fun’ral,” +groaned Jim. “An’ I can’t git nowhere--<i>nowhere</i> ter tell ’em not ter come!”</p> + +<p>“Well, it don’t look now as if anybody’d +come--or go,” 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>“What ye been cartin’ upstairs?” +she asked in a mildly curious voice.</p> + +<p>Ella was ready for her.</p> + +<p>“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:</p> + +<p>“Humph! Must be you’re expectin’ +company, Ella.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>Ella’s dry lips refused to move. She shook her +head.</p> + +<p>“There’s a mistake,” she said faintly. +“There ain’t no fun’ral. Aunt Abby’s +better.”</p> + +<p>The man stared, then he whistled softly.</p> + +<p>“Gorry!” he muttered, as he turned away.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“But, Aunt Abby--” began Ella, feverishly.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“What do ye s’pose she thought?” +whispered Jim.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” shivered Ella, “but, +Jim, wan’t it awful?--Mis’ Blair brought +a white wreath--everlastin’s!”</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>“If she <i>should</i> find out,” +Ella had said, “’twould be the end of +the money--fer us.”</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>The “funeral” was a week old when Mrs. +Darling came into the sitting-room one day, fully +dressed.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“But, Aunt Abby, where ye goin’ now?” +faltered Ella.</p> + +<p>“Jest up in the attic. I wanted ter see--” +She stopped in apparent surprise. Ella and Jim had +sprung to their feet.</p> + +<p>“The attic!” they gasped.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I--”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“It’s all--up!” 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>“It’s real pretty,” she said. “I +allers did like gray.”</p> + +<p>“Gray?” stammered Ella.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Jed--comin’ home!”</p> + +<p>The old woman smiled oddly.</p> + +<p>“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:</p> + +<p>Shall be there the 8th. For God’s sake don’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’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, “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.</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! +“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.</p> + +<p>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.</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>“Good-morning! I--I’ve come to help you.”</p> + +<p>“Ma’am!” gasped the cook.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“Mother!” she cried; and at the word the +knife dropped from the trembling, withered old fingers +and clattered to the floor. “Why, mother!”</p> + +<p>“I--I was helping,” quavered a deprecatory +voice.</p> + +<p>Something in the appealing eyes sent a softer curve +to Margaret Wetherby’s lips.</p> + +<p>“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?”</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’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’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>“The baby, I--I heard him cry,” she faltered.</p> + +<p>“Yes, madam,” smiled the nurse. “It +is Master Philip’s nap hour.”</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>“But he’s crying--yet!” gasped Madam +Wetherby.</p> + +<p>The girl’s lips twitched and an expression came +to her face which the little old lady did not in the +least understand.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you--do something?” demanded +baby’s grandmother, her voice shaking.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Well, I can,” 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’s face, and a queer choking came +to her throat so that her words were faint and broken.</p> + +<p>“Madam--I beg pardon--I’m sorry, but I +must put Master Philip back on his bed.”</p> + +<p>“But he isn’t asleep yet,” demurred +Madam Wetherby softly, her eyes mutinous.</p> + +<p>“But you must--I can’t--that is, Master +Philip cannot be rocked,” faltered the girl.</p> + +<p>“Nonsense, my dear!” she said; “babies +can always be rocked!” And again the lullaby +rose on the air.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“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.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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’!”</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>“Tut, tut, mother, dear!” she remonstrated. +“As if I’d have you wearing your eyes +and fingers out mending a paltry pair of socks!”</p> + +<p>“Then I--I’ll knit new ones!” cried +the old lady, with sudden inspiration.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>Again the old eyes filled with tears; and yet--John’s +wife was kind, so very kind!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“There, there, John, I--I didn’t mean +to--truly I didn’t!” quavered the little +old lady.</p> + +<p>John dropped on one knee and caught the fluttering +fingers. “Mother, what is it?”</p> + +<p>“It--it isn’t anything; truly it isn’t,” +urged the tremulous voice.</p> + +<p>“Is any one unkind to you?” John’s +eyes grew stern. “The boys, or-- Margaret?”</p> + +<p>The indignant red mounted to the faded cheek. “John! +How can you ask? Every one is kind, kind, so very +kind to me!”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, what is it?”</p> + +<p>There was only a sob in reply. “Come, come,” +he coaxed gently.</p> + +<p>For a moment Nancy Wetherby’s breath was held +suspended, then it came in a burst with a rush of +words.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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--”</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, +“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.</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>“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!”</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>“Bless her dear heart!” he said softly. +“You should have seen her eyes shine when I +put them on this morning!”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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!”</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 “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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>If I ain’t worth speakin’ to I ain’t +worth cookin’ for. Hereafter I’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’s note showed her “schooling.” +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 “Huldah Pendleton” was +fiercely black and distinct; the “Gregg” +was so faint it could scarcely be discerned.</p> + +<p>“Why, it’s ’most like a d’vorce!” +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>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</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’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’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.</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’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’s round red face shone like the +full moon.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, Cy, what ye doin’ down your +way Thanksgivin’--eh?” 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>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,” said Cyrus gloomily. “But +we--we ain’t doin’ much this year.”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“You see, it’s Thanksgiving!” she +sobbed, in answer to Huldah’s dismayed questions.</p> + +<p>“Thanksgiving!”</p> + +<p>“Yes. And last year I had--<i>him!</i>”</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>“Huldah Gregg, do you appreciate Cyrus?”</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>“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!”</p> + +<p>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.</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>“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.</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’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’s turkey +in one’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>“Huldah!”</p> + +<p>“Cyrus!”</p> + +<p>It was as if one voice had spoken, so exactly were +the words simultaneous. Then Cyrus cried:</p> + +<p>“You ain’t hurt?”</p> + +<p>“No, no! Quick--the things--we must get them +out!”</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>“’T ain’t as if our things wan’t +all out,” cried Cyrus; his voice was actually +exultant.</p> + +<p>“Or as if we hadn’t wanted to build a +new one for years,” chirruped his wife.</p> + +<p>“Now you can have that ’ere closet under +the front stairs, Huldah!”</p> + +<p>“And you can have the room for your tools where +it’ll be warm in the winter!”</p> + +<p>“An’ there’ll be the bow-winder +out of the settin’ room, Huldah!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and a real bathroom, with water coming +right out of the wall, same as the Wileys have!”</p> + +<p>“An’ a tub, Huldah--one o’ them +pretty white chiny ones!”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“What’s gone?”</p> + +<p>“Your dinner--I was cooking such a beautiful +turkey and all the fixings for you.”</p> + +<p>A dull red came into the man’s face.</p> + +<p>“For--me?” stammered Cyrus.</p> + +<p>“Y-yes,” faltered Huldah; then her chin +came up defiantly.</p> + +<p>The man laughed; and there was a boyish ring to his +voice.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Then, under cover of the dark, Cyrus stammered:</p> + +<p>“Huldah, did ye sense it? Them ’ere words +we said at the foot of the stairs was spoke--exactly--<i>together</i>!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know, dear,” murmured Huldah, +with a little break in her voice. Then:</p> + +<p>“Cyrus, ain’t it wonderful--this Thanksgiving, +for us?”</p> + +<p>Downstairs the Clarks were talking of poor old Mr. +and Mrs. Gregg and their “sad loss;” 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. “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.</p> + +<p>“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!”</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>“Delicious!” she murmured. “Somehow, +the 10th of June is specially fine every year.”</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>“I want them for Tabitha’s birthday cake, +you know. She thinks so much of pretty things.”</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 “helped” +in the kitchen:--</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t miss the candy for the world--my +sister thinks so much of it!”</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’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>“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.”</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>“Why, where’s my cake?”</p> + +<p>“And my sandwiches?”</p> + +<p>“There’s the plate it was on!” Rachel’s +voice was growing in terror.</p> + +<p>“And mine, too!” cried Tabitha, with distended +eyes fastened on some bits of bread and meat--all +that the small brown hands had left.</p> + +<p>“It’s burglars--robbers!” Rachel +looked furtively over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>“And all your lovely cake!” almost sobbed +Tabitha.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“No, I should say not!” vouchsafed Rachel, +her voice firm now that the size of the “burglar” +was declared. Tabitha only gasped.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>“There, ma’am,--that looks pretty good!” +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>“Boy, what do you mean by such actions?” +she demanded.</p> + +<p>His eyes fell, and his cheeks showed red through the +tan.</p> + +<p>“I was hungry.”</p> + +<p>“But didn’t you know it was stealing?” +she asked, her face softening.</p> + +<p>“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’.”</p> + +<p>“The dear child!” murmured two voices +softly.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Who are your folks?” she asked huskily.</p> + +<p>By way of answer he handed out a soiled, crumpled +envelope for her inspection on which was written, +“Reverend John Hapgood.”</p> + +<p>“Why--it’s father!”</p> + +<p>“What!” exclaimed Tabitha.</p> + +<p>Her sister tore the note open with shaking fingers.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Do I belong to you?” he asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>“I--I don’t know. Who are you--what’s +your name?”</p> + +<p>“Ralph Hapgood.”</p> + +<p>Tabitha had caught up the note and was devouring it +with swift-moving eyes.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>He squirmed uneasily.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</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’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>“We must keep him, anyhow,” said Rachel +with decision.</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed,--the dear child!”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“Indeed we do--we’ll send him to college! +I wonder, now, wouldn’t he like to be a doctor?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” admitted the other cautiously, +“or a minister.”</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Huh? N-no, ma’am.” The voice nearly +gave the lie to the words.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“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.</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’ 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>“We might sell,” suggested Tabitha, a +little choke in her voice.</p> + +<p>Rachel started.</p> + +<p>“Why, sister!--sell? Oh, no, we couldn’t +do that!” she shuddered.</p> + +<p>“But what can we do?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Tabitha grew more and more restless every day. Finally +she spoke.</p> + +<p>“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!”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.”</p> + +<p>“Where is it?” asked the man eagerly. +“You never know what money can do-- to say nothing +of love--till you try.”</p> + +<p>The lawyer chuckled softly.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“By Jove, it’s a picture!” 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>“Ahem! I’ve brought Mr. Hazelton up here, +ladies, because he was interested in your beautiful +place.”</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>“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?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, no!” began Rachel almost fiercely. +Then her voice sank to a whisper; “I--I don’t +think you could.”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“I suppose <i>he</i> will sit here,” +murmured Tabitha, dropping wearily on to the settee +under the apple-trees.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“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--”</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>“You poor dear--they’ve gone now,” +she comforted.</p> + +<p>Rachel raised her head.</p> + +<p>“They’re going to cut down everything--every +single thing!” she gasped.</p> + +<p>“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?”</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>“We--we might give up selling--he said we could +if we wanted to.”</p> + +<p>“But there’s Ralph!”</p> + +<p>“I know it. Oh, dear--what can we do?”</p> + +<p>Rachel suddenly sat upright.</p> + +<p>“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.”</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>“I didn’t suppose rooms could be so little,” +whispered Tabitha, as they closed the gate behind +them.</p> + +<p>“We couldn’t grow as much as a sunflower +in that yard,” faltered Rachel.</p> + +<p>“Well, anyhow, we could have some houseplants!”--Tabitha +tried to speak cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“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.</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>“I stepped into the office and got your mail,” +he said genially.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” replied the lady, trying +to smile. “It’s from Ralph,”-- 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’s hand when a scream from Tabitha +shattered the oppressive silence of the room.</p> + +<p>“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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Bye-bye; I’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’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>“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.</p> + +<p>The sisters looked into each other’s eyes and +drew a long, sobbing breath.</p> + +<p>“Rachel, is it true?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Tabitha! Let’s--let’s go out +under the apple-trees and--just know that they are +there!”</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. 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