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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9397-8.txt b/9397-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e4ff62 --- /dev/null +++ b/9397-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3570 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Green Satin Gown, by Laura E. Richards + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Green Satin Gown + +Author: Laura E. Richards + +Illustrator: Etheldred B. Barry + +Posting Date: August 30, 2012 [EBook #9397] +Release Date: November, 2005 +First Posted: September 29, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREEN SATIN GOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Robert Prince and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +BY LAURA E. RICHARDS + +_Author of_ "Captain January," "Melody," "Three Margarets," +"Peggy," "Queen Hildegarde," etc., etc. + + +Illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +Published May, 1903 + + + + +TO +THE GIRLS OF +The Friday Club of Gardiner, Maine +THIS VOLUME +IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +BLUE EGYPTIANS + +LITTLE BENJAMIN + +DON ALONZO + +THE SHED CHAMBER + +MAINE TO THE RESCUE + +THE SCARLET LEAVES + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"THE FIRST TITTER PUT A FIRE IN MY VEINS THAT KEPT ME WARM ALL THE + EVENING" + +"GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP AGAIN" + +"'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; AND--IT'S CRYING!'" + +"'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'" + +"MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT" + +THE CONFERENCE + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + + +Who ever wore such a queer-looking thing? I wore it myself, dear, +once upon a time; yes, I did! Perhaps you would like to hear about it, +while you mend that tear in your muslin. Sit down, then, and let us +be cosy. + +I was making a visit in Hillton once, when I was seventeen years old, +just your age; staying with dear old Miss Persis Elderby, who is now +dead. I have told you about her, and it is strange that I have never +told you the story of the green satin gown; but, indeed, it is years +since I looked at it. We were great friends, Miss Persis and I; and +we never thought much about the difference in our ages, for she was +young for her years, and I was old for mine. In our daily walk +through the pretty, sleepy Hillton street--we always went for the +mail, together, for though Miss Persis seldom received letters, she +always liked to see mine, and it was quite the event of the day--my +good friend seldom failed to point out to me a stately mansion that +stood by itself on a little height, and to say in a tone of pride, +"The Le Baron place, my dear; the finest place in the county. Madam +Le Baron, who lives there alone now, is as great a lady as any in +Europe, though she wears no coronet to her name." + +I never knew exactly what Miss Persis meant by this last remark, but +it sounded magnificent, and I always gazed respectfully at the gray +stone house which sheltered so grand a personage. Madam Le Baron, it +appeared, never left the house in winter, and this was January. Her +friends called on her at stated intervals, and, to judge from +Miss Persis, never failed to come away in a state of reverential +enthusiasm. I could not help picturing to myself the great lady as +about six feet tall, clad in purple velvet, and waving a +peacock-feather fan; but I never confided my imaginings even to the +sympathetic Miss Persis. + +One day my friend returned from a visit to the stone house, quite +breathless, her pretty old face pink with excitement. She sat down +on the chair nearest the door, and gazed at me with, speechless +emotion. + +"Dear Miss Persis!" I cried. "What has happened? Have you had bad +news?" + +Miss Persis shook her head. "Bad news? I should think not, indeed! +Child, Madam Le Baron wishes to see you. More I cannot say at present. +Not a word! Put on your best hat, and come with me. Madam Le Baron +waits for us!" + +It was as if she had said, "The Sultan is on the front door-step." I +flew up-stairs, and made myself as smart as I could in such a hurry. +My cheeks were as pink as Miss Persis's own, and though I had not +the faintest idea what was the matter, I felt that it must be +something of vital import. On the way, I begged my companion to +explain matters to me, but she only shook her head and trotted on the +faster. "No time!" she panted. "Speech delays me, my dear! All will +be explained; only make haste." + +We made such haste, that by the time we rang at the door of the +stone house neither of us could speak, and Miss Persis could only +make a mute gesture to the dignified maid who opened the door, and +who looked amazed, as well she might, at our burning cheeks and +disordered appearance. Fortunately, she knew Miss Persis well, and +lost no time in ushering us into a cool, dimly lighted parlor, hung +with family portraits. Here we sat, and fanned ourselves with our +pocket-handkerchiefs, while I tried to find breath for a question; +but there was not time! A door opened at the further end of the room; +there was a soft rustle, a smell of sandal-wood in the air. The next +moment Madam Le Baron stood before us. A slender figure, about my +own height, in a quaint, old-fashioned dress; snowy hair, arranged +in puff on puff, with exquisite nicety; the darkest, softest eyes I +ever saw, and a general air of having left her crown in the next room; +this was the great lady. + +We rose, and I made my best courtesy,--we courtesied then, my dear, +instead of bowing like pump-handles,--and she spoke to us in a soft +old voice, that rustled like the silk she wore, though it had a clear +sound, too. "So this is the child!" she said. "I trust you are very +well, my dear! And has Miss Elderby told you of the small particular +in which you can oblige me?" + +Miss Persis hastened to say that she wasted no time on explanations, +but had brought me as quickly as might be, thinking that the main +thing. Madam Le Baron nodded, and smiled a little; then she turned +to me; a few quiet words, and I knew all about it. She had received +that morning a note from her grandniece, "a young and giddy person," +who lived in B----, some twenty miles away, announcing that she and +a party of friends were about to drive over to Hillton to see the +old house. She felt sure that her dear aunt would be enchanted to +see them, as it must be "quite too forlorn for her, all alone in +that great barn;" so she might expect them the next evening (that is, +the evening of this very day), in time for supper, and no doubt as +hungry as hunters. There would be about a dozen of them, probably, +but she knew there was plenty of room at Birchwood, and it would be +a good thing to fill up the empty rooms for once in a way; so, +looking forward to a pleasant meeting, the writer remained her +dearest aunt's "affectionate niece, Effie Gay." + +"The child has no mother," said Madam Le Baron to Miss Persis; then +turning to me, she said: "I am alone, save for my two maids, who are +of middle age, and not accustomed to youthful visitors. Learning +from my good friend, Miss Elderby, that a young gentlewoman was +staying at her house, I conceived the idea of asking you to spend +the night with me, and such portion of the next day as my guests may +remain. If you are willing to do me this service, my dear, you may +put off your bonnet, and I will send for your evening dress and your +toilet necessaries." + +I had been listening in a dream, hearing what was said, but thinking +it all like a fairy story, chiefly impressed by the fact that the +speaker was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. +The last sentence, however, brought me to my senses with a vengeance. +With scarlet cheeks I explained that I had brought no evening dress +with me; that I lived a very quiet life at home, and had expected +nothing different here; that, to be quite frank, I had not such a +thing as an evening dress in the world. Miss Persis turned pale with +distress and mortification; but Madam Le Baron looked at me quietly, +with her lovely smile. + +"I will provide you with a suitable dress, my child," she said. +"I have something that will do very well for you. If you like to go +to your room now, my maid will attend you, and bring what is +necessary. We expect our guests in time for supper, at eight o'clock." + +Decidedly, I had walked into a fairy tale, or else I was dreaming! +Here I sat in a room hung with flowered damask, in a wonderful chair, +by a wonderful fire; and a fairy, little and withered and brown, +dressed in what I knew must be black bombazine, though I knew it +only from descriptions, was bringing me tea, and plum-cake, on a +silver tray. She looked at me with kind, twinkling eyes, and said +she would bring the dress at once; then left me to my own wondering +fancies. I hardly knew what to be thinking of, so much was happening: +more, it seemed, in these few hours, than in all my life before. I +tried to fix my mind on the gay party that would soon fill the silent +house with life and tumult; I tried to fancy how Miss Effie Gay +would look, and what she would say to me; but my mind kept coming +back to the dress, the evening dress, that I was to be privileged to +wear. What would it be like? Would silk or muslin be prettier? If +only it were not pink! A red-haired girl in pink was a sad sight! + +Looking up, I saw a portrait on the wall, of a beautiful girl, in a +curious, old-time costume. The soft dark eyes and regal turn of the +head told me that it was my hostess in her youth; and even as I +looked, I heard the rustle again, and smelt the faint odor of +sandalwood; and Madam Le Baron came softly in, followed by the fairy +maid, bearing a long parcel. + +"Your gown, my dear," she said, "I thought you would like to be +preparing for the evening. Undo it, Jessop!" + +Jessop lifted fold on fold of tissue-paper. I looked, expecting I +know not what fairy thing of lace and muslin: I saw--the green satin +gown! + +We were wearing large sleeves then, something like yours at the +present day, and high collars; the fashion was at its height. This +gown had long, tight, wrinkled sleeves, coming down over the hand, +and finished with a ruffle of yellow lace; the neck, rounded and +half-low, had a similar ruffle almost deep enough to be called a ruff; +the waist, if it could be called a waist, was up under the arms: +briefly, a costume of my grandmother's time. Little green satin +slippers lay beside it, and a huge feather-fan hung by a green ribbon. +Was this a jest? was it--I looked up, with burning cheeks and eyes +suffused; I met a glance so kind, so beaming with good-will, that my +eyes fell, and I could only hope that my anguish had not been visible. + +"Shall Jessop help you, my dear?" said Madam Le Baron. "You can do +it by yourself? Well, I like to see the young independent. I think +the gown will become you; it has been considered handsome." She +glanced fondly at the shining fabric, and left the room; the maid, +after one sharp glance at me, in which I thought I read an amused +compassion, followed; and I was left alone with the green satin gown. + +Cry? No, I did not cry: I had been brought up not to cry; but I +suffered, my dear, as one does suffer at seventeen. I thought of +jumping out of the window and running away, back to Miss Persis; I +thought of going to bed, and saying I was ill. It was true, I said +to myself, with feverish violence: I _was_ ill, sick with shame and +mortification and disappointment. Appear before this gay party, +dressed like my own great-grandmother? I would rather die! A person +might easily die of such distress as this--and so on, and so on! + +Suddenly, like a cool touch on my brow, came a thought, a word of my +Uncle John's, that had helped me many a time before. + +"Endeavor, my dear, to maintain a sense of proportion!" + +The words fell with weight on my distracted mind. I sat up straight +in the armchair into which I had flung myself, face downward. Was +there any proportion in this horror? I shook myself, then put the +two sides together, and looked at them. On one side, two lovely old +ladies, one of whom I could perhaps help a little, both of whom I +could gratify; on the other, my own--dear me! was it vanity? I +thought of the two sweet old faces, shining with kindness; I fancied +the distress, the disappointment, that might come into them, if I-- + +"Yes, dear uncle," I said aloud, "I have found the proportion!" I +shook myself again, and began to dress. And now a happy thought +struck me. Glancing at the portrait on the wall, I saw that the fair +girl was dressed in green. Was it? Yes, it must be--it was--the very +same dress! Quickly, and as neatly as I could, I arranged my hair in +two great puffs, with a butterfly knot on the top of my head, in the +style of the picture; if only I had the high comb! I slipped on the +gown, which fitted me well enough. I put on the slippers, and tied +the green ribbons round and round my ankles; then I lighted all the +candles, and looked at myself. A perfect guy? Well, perhaps--and +yet-- + +At this moment Jessop entered, bringing a pair of yellow gloves; she +looked me over critically, saying nothing; glanced at the portrait, +withdrew, and presently reappeared, with the high tortoise-shell +comb in her hand. She placed it carefully in my hair, surveyed me +again, and again looked at the picture. Yes, it was true, the +necklace was wanting; but of course-- + +Really, Jessop was behaving like a jack-in-the-box! She had +disappeared again, and now here she was for the third time; but this +time Madam Le Baron was with her. The old lady looked at me silently, +at my hair, then up at the picture. The sight of the pleasure in her +lovely face trampled under foot, put out of existence, the last +remnant of my foolish pride. + +She turned to Jessop and nodded. "Yes, by all means!" she said. The +maid put into her hand a long morocco box; Madam kissed me, and with +soft, trembling fingers clasped the necklace round my neck. +"It is a graceful compliment you pay me, my child," she said, +glancing at the picture again, with eyes a little dimmed. "Oblige me +by wearing this, to complete the vision of my past youth." + +Ten stars of chrysoprase, the purest and tenderest green in the world, +set in delicately wrought gold. I need not describe the necklace to +you. You think it the most beautiful jewel in the world, and so do I; +and I have promised that you shall wear it on your eighteenth +birthday. + +Madam Le Baron saw nothing singular in my appearance. She never +changed the fashion of her dress, being of the opinion, as she told +me afterward, that a gentlewoman's dress is her own affair, not her +mantua-maker's; and her gray and silver brocade went very well with +the green satin. We stood side by side for a moment, gazing into the +long, dim mirror; then she patted my shoulder and gave a little sigh. + +"Your auburn hair looks well with the green," she said. "My hair was +dark, but otherwise--Shall we go down, my dear?" + +I will not say much about the evening. It was painful, of course; +but Effie Gay had no mother, and much must be pardoned in such a case. +No doubt I made a quaint figure enough among the six or eight gay +girls, all dressed in the latest fashion; but the first moment was +the worst, and the first titter put a fire in my veins that kept me +warm all the evening. An occasional glance at Madam Le Baron's +placid face enabled me to preserve my sense of proportion, and I +remembered that two wise men, Solomon and my Uncle John, had +compared the laughter of fools to the crackling of thorns under a pot. +And--and there were some who did not laugh. + +Pin it up, my dear! Your father has come, and will be wanting his tea. + +I can tell you the rest of the story in a few words. + +A year from that time Madam Le Baron died; and a few weeks after her +death, a parcel came for me from Hillton. + +Opening it in great wonder, what did I find but the gown, the green +satin gown, with the slippers and fan, and the tortoise-shell comb +in a leather case! Lifting it reverently from the box, the dress felt +singularly heavy on my arm, and a moment's search revealed a strange +matter. The pocket was full of gold pieces, shining half-eagles, +which fell about me in a golden shower, and made me cry out with +amazement; but this was not all! The tears sprang to my eyes as I +opened the morocco box and took out the chrysoprase necklace: tears +partly of gratitude and pleasure, partly of sheer kindness and love +and sorrow for the sweet, stately lady who had thought of me in her +closing days, and had found (they told me afterward) one of her last +pleasures in planning this surprise for me. + +There is something more that I might say, my dear. Your dear father +was one of that gay sleighing party; and he often speaks of the +first time he saw me--when I was coming down the stairs in the green +satin gown. + + + + +BLUE EGYPTIANS [1] + + +A PAPER-MILL STORY + +"I wouldn't, Lena!" + +"Well, I guess I shall!" + +"Don't, Lena! please don't! you will be sorry, I am sure, if you do +it. It cannot bring good, I know it cannot!" + +"The idea! Mary Denison, you are too old-fashioned for anything. I'd +like to know what harm it can do." + +The rag-room was nearly deserted. The whistle had blown, and most of +the girls had hurried away to their dinner. Two only lingered behind, +deep in conversation; Mary Denison and Lena Laxen. + +Mary was sitting by her sorting-table, busily sorting rags as she +talked. She was a fair, slender girl, and looked wonderfully fresh +and trim in her gray print gown, with a cap of the same material +fitting close to her head, and hiding her pretty hair. The other +girl was dark and vivacious, with laughing black eyes and a careless +mouth. She was picturesque enough in her blue dress, with the +scarlet handkerchief tied loosely over her hair; but both kerchief +and dress showed the dust plainly, and the dark locks that escaped +here and there were dusty too, showing little of the care that may +keep one neat even in a rag-room. + +"It's just as pretty as it can be!" Lena went on, half-coaxing, +half-defiant. "You ought to see it, Mame! A silk waist, every bit as +good as new, only of course it's mussed up, lying in the bag; and a +skirt, and lots of other things, all as nice as nice! I can't think +what the folks that had them meant, putting such things into the rags: +why, that waist hadn't much more than come out of the shop, you +might say. And do you think I'm going to let it go through the duster, +and then be thrown out, and somebody else get it? No, sir! and it's +no good for rags, you know it isn't, Mary Denison." + +"I know that it is not yours, Lena, nor mine!" said Mary, steadily. +"But I'll tell you what you might do; go straight to Mr. Gordon, and +tell him about the pretty waist,--very likely it got in by mistake,--tell +him it is no good for rags, and ask if you may have it. Like +as not he'll let you have it; and if not, you will find out what his +reason is. I think we ought to suppose he has some reason for what +he does." + +Lena laughed spitefully. + +"Like as not he's going to take it home to his own girl!" she said. +"I saw her in the street the other day, and I wouldn't have been +seen dead with the hat she had on; not a flower, nor even a scrap of +a feather; just a plain band and a goose-quill stuck in it. Real +poorhouse, I thought it looked, and he as rich as a Jew. I guess I +sha'n't go to Mr. Gordon; he's just as hateful as he can be. He gave +out word that no one was to touch that bag, nor so much as go near it; +and he had it set off in a corner of the outer shed, close by the +chloride barrels, so that everything in it will smell like poison. +If that isn't mean, I don't know what is. + +"Well, I can't stay here all day, Mame. Aren't you coming?" + +"Pretty soon!" said Mary. "Don't wait for me, Lena! I want to finish +this stint, so as to have the afternoon off. Mother's poorly to-day, +and I want to cook something nice for her supper." + +Lena nodded and went out, shutting the door with a defiant swing. +Mary looked after her doubtfully, as if hesitating whether she ought +not to follow and make some stronger plea; but the next moment she +bent over her work again. + +"I must hurry!" she said. "I'll see Lena after dinner, and try to +make her promise not to touch that bag. I don't see what has got +into her." + +Mary worked away steadily. The rags were piled in an iron sieve +before her; they were mostly the kind called "Blue Egyptians," +cotton cloth dyed with indigo, which had come far across the sea from +Egypt. Musty and fusty enough they were, and Mary often turned her +head aside as she sorted them carefully, putting the good rags into +a huge basket that stood beside her on the floor, while the bits of +woollen cloth, of paper and string and other refuse, went into +different compartments of the sorting-table, which was something +like an old-fashioned box-desk. + +Mary was a quick worker, and her basket was already nearly full of +rags. Fastened upright beside her seat was a great knife, not unlike +a scythe-blade, with which she cut off the buttons and hooks and eyes, +running the garment along the keen edge with a quick and practised +hand. Usually she amused herself by imagining stories about the +buttons and their former owners, for she was a fanciful girl, and +her child-life, without brothers or sisters, had bred in her the +habit of solitary play and "make-believe," which clung to her now +that she was a tall girl of sixteen. But to-day she was not thinking +of the Blue Egyptians. Her thoughts were following Lena on her +homeward way, and she was hoping devoutly that her own words might +have had some effect, and that Lena might pass by the forbidden bag +without lingering to be further tempted. It _was_ strange that this +one special bundle of rags, coming from a village at some distance, +should have been kept apart when the day's allowance was put into +the dusters. But--"Mother always says we ought to suppose there is a +reason for things!" she said to herself. And she shook her head +resolutely, and tried to make a "button-play." + +She pulled from the heap before her a dark blue garment, and turned +it over, examining it carefully. It seemed to be a woman's jacket. +It was of finer material than most of the "Egyptians," and the +fashion was quaint and graceful. There were remnants of embroidery +here and there, and the heavy glass buttons were like nothing Mary +had ever seen before. + +"I'll keep these," she said, "for little Jessie Brown; she will be +delighted with them. That child does make so much out of so little, +I'm fairly ashamed sometimes. These will be a fortune to Jessie. +I'll tell her that I think most likely they belonged to a princess +when they were new; they were up and down the front of a dress of +gold cloth trimmed with pearls, and she looked perfectly beautiful +when she had it on, and the Prince of the Fortunate Islands fell in +love with her." + +Buttons were a regular perquisite of the rag-girls in the Cumquot +Mill; indeed, any trifle, coin, or seal, or medal, was considered +the property of the finder, this being an unwritten law of the +rag-room. + +Mary cut the buttons off, and slipped them into her pocket; then she +ran her fingers round the edge of the jacket, in case there were any +hooks or other hard substance that had escaped her notice, and that +might blunt the knives of the cutter, into which it would next go. + +In a corner of the lining, her fingers met something hard. Here was +some object that had slipped down between the stuff and the lining, +and must be cut out. Mary ran the jacket along the cutting-knife, +and something rolled into her lap. Not a button this time! she held +it up to the light, and examined it curiously. It was a brooch, of +glass, or clear stones, in a tarnished silver setting. Dim and dusty, +it still seemed full of light, and glanced in the sun as Mary held +it up. + +"What a pretty thing!" she said. "I wonder if it is glass. I must +take this to Mr. Gordon, for I never found anything like it before. +Jessie cannot have this." + +She laid it carefully aside, and went on with her sorting, working +so quickly that in a few moments the sieve was empty, and the basket +piled with good cotton rags, ready for the cutting-machine. + +Taking her hat and shawl, Mary passed out, holding the brooch +carefully in her hand. There were few people in the mill, only the +machine-tenders, walking leisurely up and down beside their machines, +which whirred and droned on, regardless of dinnertime. The great +rollers went round and round, the broad white streams flowed on and +on over the screens, till the mysterious moment came when they +ceased to be wet pulp and became paper. + +Mary hardly glanced at the wonderful machines; they were an old +story to her, though in every throb they were telling over and over +the marvellous works of man. The machine-tenders nodded kindly in +return to her modest greeting, and looked after her with approval, +and said, "Nice gal!" to each other; but Mary hurried on until she +came to the finishing-room. Here she hoped to find a friend whom she +could consult about her discovery; and, sure enough, old James +Gregory was sitting on his accustomed stool, tying bundles of paper +with the perfection that no one else could equal. His back was +turned to the door, and he was crooning a fragment of an old +paper-mill song, which might have been composed by the beating +engine itself, so rhythmic and monotonous it was. + + + "'Gene, 'Gene, + Made a machine; + Joe, Joe, + Made it go; + Frank, Frank, + Turned the crank, + His mother came out, + And gave him a spank, + And knocked him over + The garden bank." + + +At Mary's cheerful "Good morning, Mr. Gregory!" the old man turned +slowly, and looked at the young girl with friendly eyes. + +"Good day, Mary! glad to see ye! goin' along home?" + +"In just a minute! I want to show you something, Mr. Gregory, and to +ask your advice, please." + +The old finisher turned completely round this time, and looked his +interest. Mary opened her hand, and displayed the brooch she had +found. + +James Gregory drew his lips into the form of a whistle, but made no +sound. He looked from the brooch to Mary, and back again. + +"Well?" he said. + +"I found it in the rags; blue Egyptians, you know, Mr. Gregory. It +was inside the lining of a jacket. Do you think--what do you think +about it? is it glass, or--something else?" + +Gregory took the ornament from her, and held it up to the light, +screwing his eyes to little points of light; then he polished it on +his sleeve, and held it up again. + +[Illustration: "GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP +AGAIN."] + +"Something else!" he said, briefly. + +"Is it--do you think it might be worth something, Mr. Gregory?" +asked Mary, rather timidly. + +"Yes!" roared Gregory, with a sudden explosion. "I do! I b'lieve +them's di'monds, sure as here I sit. Mary Denison, you've struck it +this time, or I'm a Dutchman." + +He got off his stool in great excitement, and walked up and down the +room, still holding the brooch in his hand. Mary looked after him, +and her face was very pale. She said one word softly, "Mother!" that +was all. + +Mary Denison and her mother were poor. Mrs. Denison was far from +strong, and they had no easy time of it, for there was little save +Mary's wages to feed and clothe the two women and pay their rent. +James Gregory knew all this; his pale old face was lighted with +emotion, and he stumped up and down the room at a rapid pace. + +Suddenly he stopped, and faced the anxious girl, who was following +him with bewildered eyes. + +"Findin's havin'!" he said, abruptly. "That's paper-mill law. Some +folks would tell ye to keep this to yourself, and sell it for what +you could get." + +Mary's face flushed. + +"But you do not tell me that!" she said, quietly. + +"No!" roared the old man, with another explosion, stamping violently +on the floor. "No, I don't. You're poor as spring snakes, and your +mother's sickly, and you've hard work to get enough to keep the +flesh on your bones; but I don't tell ye to do that. I tell ye to +take it straight to the Old Man, and tell him where ye found it, and +all about it. I've knowed him ever since his mustash growed, and +before. You go straight to him! He's in the office now." + +"I was going!" said Mary, simply. "I thought I'd come and see you +first, Mr. Gregory, you've always been so good to mother and me. +You--you couldn't manage to come with me, could you? I am afraid of +Mr. Gordon; I can't help it, though he is always pleasant to me." + +"I'll go!" said old James, with alacrity. "You come right along with +me!" + +In his eagerness he seized Mary by the arm, and kept his hold on her +as they passed out through the mill. The few "hands" who were at +work here and there gazed after them in amazement; for the old man +was dragging the girl along as if he had caught her in some offence, +and was going to deliver her up to justice. + +The same impression was made in the office, when the pair appeared +there. The two clerks stared open-mouthed, and judged after their +nature; for one of them said, instantly, to himself, "It's a mistake!" +while the other said, "I always knew that Denison girl was too pious +to last!" + +A tall man who sat at a desk in the corner looked up quietly. + +"Ah, Gregory!" he said. "What is it? Mary Denison? Good morning, Mary! +Anything wrong in the rag-room?" + +Gregory waved his hat excitedly. + +"If you'd look here, sir!" he said. "If you would just cast your eye +over that article, and tell this gal what you think of it! Blue +Egyptians, sir! luckiest rags that ever come into this mill, I've +always said. Well, sir?" + +Mr. Gordon was not easily stirred to excitement. It seemed an age to +the anxious girl and the impetuous old man, as he turned the brooch +over and over, holding it up in every light, polishing it, breathing +on it, then polishing it again. Gregory's hands twitched with +eagerness, and Mary felt almost faint with suspense. + +"You found this in the rags?" he asked at length, turning to Mary. +He spoke in his ordinary even tone, and Mary's heart sank, she could +not have told why. + +"Yes, sir!" she faltered. "I found it in a blue jacket. It was in +between the stuff and the lining. There were glass buttons on the +jacket." + +She drew them from her pocket and held them out; but Mr. Gordon, +after a glance, waved them back. + +"Those are of no value!" he said. "About this brooch, I am not so +sure. The stones may be real stones--I incline to think they are; +but it is possible that they may be paste. The imitations are +sometimes very perfect; no one but a jeweller can tell positively. I +will take it to Boston with me to-morrow, and have it examined." + +He dropped the brooch into a drawer at his side, turned the key and +put it in his pocket, all in his quiet, methodical way, as if he +were in the habit of examining diamond brooches every day; then he +nodded kindly to the pair, and bent over his papers again. + +Mary went out silently, and Gregory followed her with a dazed look +on his strong features. He looked back at the door two or three times, +but said nothing till they were back in the finishing-room. + +Then--"It's one of his days!" he said. "I've knowed him ever since +his mustash growed, and there's days when he's struck with a dumb +sperit, just like Scriptur'. Don't you fret, Mary! He'll see you +righted, or I'll give you my head." + +Mary might have thought that Mr. Gregory's head would be of little +use to her without the rest of him. She felt sadly dashed and +disappointed. She hardly knew what she had expected, but it was +something very different from this calm, every-day reception, this +total disregard of her own and her companion's excitement. + +"I guess he thinks they're nothing great!" she said, wearily. +"What was that he said about paste, Mr. Gregory? You never saw any +paste like that, did you? + +"No!" said Gregory, "I've heered of Di'mond Glue, but 'twan't +nothin' like stones--nor glass neither. You may run me through the +calenders if I know what he's drivin' at. But I'll trust him!" he +added, vehemently. "I done right to tell you to go to him. He's in +one of his moods to-day, but you'll hear from him, if there's +anything to hear, now mark my words! And now I'd go home, if I was +you, and see your ma'am, and get your dinner. And--Mary--I dono as +I'd say anything about this, if I was you. Things get round so in a +mill, ye know." + +Mary nodded assurance, and went home, trying to feel that nothing of +importance had happened. Do what she would, however, the golden +visions would come dancing before her eyes. Suppose--suppose the +stones should be real, after all! and suppose Mr. Gordon should give +her a part, at least, of the money they might bring in Boston. It +might--she knew diamonds were valuable--it might be thirty or forty +dollars. Oh! how rich she would be! The rent could be paid some time +in advance, and her mother could have the new shawl she needed so +badly: or would a cloak be better? cloaks were more in fashion, but +Mother said a good shawl was always good style. + +Turning the corner by her mother's house, she met one of the clerks +who had been in the office when she went in there. He looked at her +with the smile she always disliked, she hardly knew why. + +"You did the wrong thing that time, Miss Denison!" he said. + +"What do you mean, Mr. Hitchcock?" asked Mary. + +"You'll never see your diamonds again, nor the money for them!" +replied the man. "That's easy guessing. He'll come back and tell you +they're glass or paste, and that's the last you'll hear of them. And +the diamonds--for they are diamonds, right enough--will go into his +pocket, or on to his wife's neck. I know what's what! I wasn't born +down in these parts." + +"You don't know Mr. Gordon!" said Mary, warmly. "That isn't the way +he is thought of by those who do know him." + +The clerk was a newcomer from another State, and was not liked by +the mill-workers. + +"I know his kind!" he said, with a sneer; "and they're no good to +your kind, Mary Denison, nor to mine. Mark my words, you'll hear no +more of that breastpin." + +Mary turned away so decidedly that he said no more, but his eyes +followed her with a sinister look. + +Next moment he was greeting Lena Laxen cordially, and she was +dimpling and smiling all over at his compliments. Lena thought +Mr. Hitchcock "just elegant!" and believed that Mary was jealous when +she said she did not like him. Something now prompted her to tell +him about the silk waist in the forbidden sack; he took her view at +once and zealously. The boss (for he did not use the kindly title of +"Old Man," by which the other mill-hands designated Mr. Gordon, +though he was barely forty) had his eye on the things, most likely, +as he had on the pin Mary Denison found. Hadn't Lena heard about that? +Well, it was a burning shame, he could tell her; he would see that +she, Lena, wasn't fooled that way. And Lena, listening eagerly, +heard a story very different from that which had been told to +Mr. Gordon. + +In an hour the whole mill knew that Mary Denison had found a diamond +pin in the rags, and that Mr. Gordon had told her it was nothing but +hard glue, and had sold it himself in Boston for a thousand dollars, +and spent the money on a new horse. + +Nor was this all! Late that evening Lena Laxen stole from her home +with a shawl over her head, and met the clerk by the corner of the +outer shed. A few minutes of whispering and giggling, and she stole +back, with a bundle under her shawl; while Hitchcock tied a bright +silk handkerchief round his neck, and strutted off with the air of a +conqueror. + +Next morning, as Mary Denison was going to her work, Lena rapped on +the window, and called her attention by signs to the bodice she had +on. It was a gay striped silk, little worn, but still showing, in +spite of pressing, the marks of crumpling and tossing. The bright +colors suited Lena's dark skin well, and as she stood there with +flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, Mary thought she had never seen +her look prettier. At first she nodded and smiled in approval; but +the next moment a thought darted into her mind that made her clasp +her hands, and cry anxiously: + +"Oh! Lena, you didn't do it! you never did it! it's not _that_ waist +you have on?" + +Lena affected not to hear. She only nodded and laughed triumphantly, +and turned away, leaving Mary standing pale and distressed outside +the window. + +Mary hesitated. Should she go in and reason further with the wilful +girl, and try to persuade her to restore the stolen garment? +Something told her it would be useless; but still she was on the +point of going in, when old James Gregory came by, and asked her to +walk on with him. + +She complied, but not without an anxious look back at the window, +where no one was now to be seen. + +"Well, May," said Gregory, "how're ye feelin' to-day? hearty? that's +clever! I hope you wasn't frettin' about that pin any. Most girls +would, but you ain't the fool kind." + +"I don't know, Mr. Gregory!" said Mary, laughing. "I'm afraid I have +thought about it more or less, but I haven't been fretting. Where's +the use?" + +"Jes' so! jes' so!" assented the old man, with alacrity. + +"And I didn't say anything to Mother," Mary went on. "I didn't want +her to know about it unless something was really coming of it. Poor +Mother! she has enough to think about." + +"She has so!" said Gregory. "A sight o' thinkin' your mother doos, +Mary, and good thoughts, every one of 'em, I'll bet my next pay. +She's a good woman, your mother; I guess likely you know it without +me sayin' so. I call Susan Denison the best woman I know, and I've +told my wife so, more times than she says she has any occasion for. +I don't say she's an angel, but she's a good woman, and that's as fur +as we're likely to get in this world. + +"But that ain't what I wanted to say to you, May! Somehow or 'nother, +the story's got round about your findin' that pin yesterday. You +didn't say nothin'?" + +"Not a word!" said Mary. "How could it--" + +"'Twas that pison Hitchcock, I expect!" said Gregory. "I see him +lookin' up with his little eyes, as red as a ferret, and as ugly. I +bet he started the hull thing; and he's tacked on a passel of lies, +and the endurin' place is hummin' with it. Thought I'd tell ye +before ye went in, so's ye could fix up a little what to say." + +Mary thanked him cordially, and passed on into the mill: the old man +looked after her with a very friendly glance in his keen blue eyes. + +"She's good stuff, May is!" he murmured. "Good stuff, like her mother. + +"Folks is like rags, however you look at 'em. Take a good linen rag, +no matter how black it is, and put it through the washers, and the +bleachers, and the cutters, and all the time it's gettin' whiter and +whiter, and sweeter and sweeter, the more you bang it round; till at +last you have bank-note paper, and write to the Queen of England on +it, if you're a mind to, and she won't have none better. And take +jute or shoddy, and the minute you touch to wash it, it cockles up, +or drops to pieces, and it ain't no good to mortal man. Jest like +folks, I tell ye! and May and her mother's pure linen clippin's, if +ever I see 'em." + +Forewarned is forearmed, and Mary met quietly the buzz of inquiry +that greeted her when she entered the rag-room. The girls crowded +round her, the men were not far behind. To each and all Mary told the +simple truth, trying not to say a word too much. "The tongue is a +fire!" her mother's favorite text, was constantly in her mind, and +she was determined that no ill word should be spoken of Mr. Gordon, +if she could help it. Almost every one in the mill liked and +respected the "Old Man;" but the human mind loves a sensation, and +Lena and Hitchcock had told their story so vividly the day before +that Mary's account seemed tame and dull beside it; and some of the +hands preferred to think that "Mame Denison was a sly one, and +warn't goin' to let on, fear some one'd git ahead of her." + +Lena, who came shortly, in her usual dress, fostered this feeling, +not from malice, but from sheer love of excitement and gossip. In +spite of Mary's efforts, the excitement increased, and when, late in +the afternoon, word came that Mary Denison was wanted in the office, +the rag-room was left fairly bubbling with wild surmise. + +Mr. Gordon did not see Mary when she came in. He was standing at his +desk, with an open letter in his hand, and his face was disturbed as +he spoke to the senior clerk. + +"Myers, it is as I feared about that bag of rags from Blankton. You +have kept it carefully tied up, and close by the chlorides, as I +told you?" + +Myers, a clear-eyed, honest-browed man, looked troubled. + +"I did, sir!" he said. "I have looked at the bag every time I passed +that way, and have cautioned every one in the mill not to go near it, +besides keeping the shed-gate locked; but this morning I found that +it had been tampered with, and evidently something taken out. I hope +there is nothing wrong, sir!" + +George Gordon struck his hand heavily on the desk. "Wrong!" he +repeated. "There have been two fatal cases of smallpox in Blankton, +and that bag has been traced to the house where they were." + +There was a moment of deathly silence. He went on: + +"I suspected something wrong, the moment you told me of things that +looked new and good; but I did not want to raise a panic in the mill, +when there might be some other explanation. I thought I had taken +every precaution--what is that?" + +He turned quickly, hearing a low cry behind him. Mary Denison was +standing with clasped hands, her face white with terror. + +"Mary!" said Mr. Gordon, in amazement. "You--surely you have had +nothing to do with this?" + +"No, sir!" cried Mary. "Oh, no, Mr. Gordon, indeed I have not. But I +fear--I fear I know who has. Oh, poor thing! poor Lena!" + +Then, with an impulse she could not explain, she turned suddenly +upon Hitchcock. + +"Who let Lena Laxen into the yard last night?" she cried. "She could +not have got in without help. You had a key--you were talking to her +after I left her yesterday. Oh! look at him, Mr. Gordon! Mr. Myers, +look at that man!" + +But Hitchcock did not seem to hear or heed her. He sat crouched over +his desk, his face a greenish-gray color, his eyes staring, his +hands clutching the woodwork convulsively; an awful figure of terror, +that gasped and cowered before them. Then suddenly, with a cry that +rattled in his throat, he dashed from his seat and ran bareheaded +out of the door. + +Myers started up to pursue him, but Mr. Gordon held up his hand. + +"Let him go!" he said, sternly. "It may be that he carries his +punishment with him. In any case we shall see him no more." + +Quickly and quietly he gave Myers his orders; to take Lena Laxen to +her home, notify the physician, and proclaim a strict quarantine; to +burn the infected rags without loss of time; to have every part of +the shed where the fatal bag had stood thoroughly disinfected. When +the man had hastened away, Mr. Gordon turned to Mary, and his stern +face lightened. + +"Do not distress yourself, Mary," he said, kindly. "It may be that +Lena will escape the infection; it seems that she only had the +garment on a few minutes; and you did all you could, I am sure, to +dissuade her from this piece of fatal and dishonest folly." + +"Oh! I might have said more!" cried Mary, in an agony of +self-reproach. "I meant to go into her house this morning, and try +to make her hear reason; it might not have been too late then." + +"Thank Heaven you did not!" said Mr. Gordon, gravely. "The air of +the house was probably already infected. No one save the doctor must +go near that house till all danger of the disease developing is over." + +He then told Mary briefly why he had sent for her. Finding that he +could not go to Boston himself at present, as he had planned, he had +sent the brooch by express to a jeweller whom he knew, and would be +able to tell her in a few days whether it was of real value or not. +Mary thanked him, but his words fell almost unheeded on her ears. +What were jewels or money, in the face of a danger so awful as that +which now threatened her friend, and, through her, the whole village? + +Days of suspense followed. From the moment when the weeping, +agonized Lena was taken home and put, tenderly, pityingly, in her +mother's hands (it was Mr. Gordon himself who had done this, refusing +to let any other perform the duty), an invisible line was drawn +about the Laxen cottage, which few dared pass. The doctor came and +went, reporting all well to the eager questioners. Mr. Gordon called +daily to inquire, and every evening Mary Denison stole to the door +with a paper or magazine for Lena and her mother, or some home-made +delicacy that might please the imprisoned girl. Lena was usually at +the window, sometimes defiant and blustering, sometimes wild with +fright, sometimes again crying for sheer loneliness and vexation; +but always behind her was her mother's pale face of dread, and her +thin voice saying that Lena was "as well as common, thank ye," and +she and Mary would exchange glances, and Mary would go away drawing +breath, and thanking the Lord that another day was gone. + +So on, for nine anxious days; but on the tenth, when Mary looked up +at the window, the mother stood there alone, crying; and the doctor, +coming out of the house at the moment, told Mary harshly to keep away +from him, and not to come so near the house. + +In the dreadful days that followed, his people learned to know +George Gordon as they had never known him before. The grave, silent +man, who never spoke save when speech was necessary, was now among +them every day, going from room to room with cheerful greetings, +encouraging, heartening, raising the drooping spirits, and rebuking +sharply the croakers, who foretold with dismal unction a general +epidemic. While taking every possible precaution, he made light of +the actual danger, and by his presence and influence warded off the +panic which might have brought about the dreaded result. + +As a matter of fact, there were no more cases in the mill; and Lena +herself had the terrible disease more lightly than any one had dared +to hope. The doctor, hurrying through back ways and alleys to change +his clothes and take his bath of disinfectants, was hailed from back +gates and windows at every step; and he never failed to return a +cheery "Doing well! out of it soon now! No, not much marked, only a +few spots here and there." + +This was when he left the quarantined house; but when he sought it, +he might be seen to stop at one gate and another, picking up here a +jar, there a bowl, here again a paper bag; till by the time he +reached the Laxen gate he stood out all over with packages like a +summer Santa Claus. + +"There ain't anybody goin' to starve round here, if they _have_ got +the smallpox!" was the general verdict, voiced by James Gregory, and +when he added, for the benefit of the mill-yard, that he had heard +Mr. Gordon order ice-cream, oranges, and oysters, all at once, for +Lena, a growl of pleasure went round, which deepened into a hearty +"What's the matter with the Old Man? _he's_ all right!" + +At length, one happy day, Mary Denison met Mr. Gordon at the Laxens' +gate, and heard the good news that Lena was sitting up; that in a +day or two now the quarantine would be taken off, the house +disinfected, and Lena back in her place at the mill. The manager +looked with satisfaction at Mary's beaming face of happiness; then, +as she was turning away to spread the good tidings, he said: + +"Wait a moment, Mary! I have some other news for you. Have you +forgotten the brooch that you found in the Blue Egyptians?" + +The color rushed to Mary's face, and Mr. Gordon had his answer. + +"Because," he added, "I have not forgotten, though you might well +think I had done so. All this sad business has delayed matters, but +now I have it all arranged. I am ready to-day, Mary, to give you +either the brooch itself, or--what I think will be better--five +hundred dollars, the sum I find it to be worth. Yes, my child, I am +speaking the truth! The stones are fine ones, and the Boston +jeweller offers you that sum for them. Well, Mary, have you nothing +to say? What, crying? this will never do!" + +But Mary had nothing to say, and she was crying, because she could +not help it. Presently she managed to murmur something about +"Too much! too great kindness--not fair for her to have it all!" but +Mr. Gordon cut her short. + +"Certainly you are to have it all, every penny of it! Finding's +having! that is paper-mill law; ask James Gregory if it is not! +There comes James this moment; go and tell him of your good fortune, +and let him bring you up to my house this evening to get the money. + +"But, Mary,"--he glanced at a letter in his hand, and his face, +which had been bright with kindness and pleasure, grew very +grave,--"there is something else for you to tell James, and all the +hands. James Hitchcock died yesterday, of malignant smallpox!" + +[Footnote 1: The main incidents in this story are founded on fact.] + + + + +LITTLE BENJAMIN + + "Then is little Benjamin their ruler." + + +"I THINK the kitty wants to come in," said Mother Golden. "I hear +him crying somewhere. Won't you go and let him in, Adam?" + +Adam laid down his book and went out; the whole family looked up +cheerfully, expecting to see Aladdin, the great Maltese cat, enter +with his stately port. There was a pause; then Adam came back with a +white, scared face, and looked at his father without speaking. + +"What is the matter, my son?" asked Father Golden. + +"Is Kitty hurt?" asked Mother Golden, anxiously. + +"Was it that dog of Jackson's?" cried Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph. + +"The cat isn't there!" said Adam. "It's--it's a basket, father." + +"A basket? What does the boy mean?" + +"A long basket, with something white inside; and--it's crying!" + +The boy had left the door open, and at this moment a sound came +through it, a long, low, plaintive cry. + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden; and she was out of the door in a +flash. + +"See there now!" said Father Golden, reprovingly. "Your mother's +smarter than any of you to-day. Go and help her, some of you!" + +The children tumbled headlong toward the door, but were met by +Mother Golden returning, bearing in her strong arms a long basket, +in which was indeed something white and fluffy that cried. + +[Illustration: "'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; +AND--IT'S CRYING!'"] + +"A baby!" exclaimed Father Golden. + +"A baby!" echoed Mary, Lemuel, Ruth, and Joseph. + +"Well, I knew it was a baby," protested Adam; "but I didn't like to +say so." + +Mother Golden lifted the child out and held it in a certain way; the +cries ceased, and the little creature nestled close against her and +looked up in her face. + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden again. "Come here, girls!" + +The girls pressed forward eagerly; the boys hung back, and glanced +at their father; these were women's matters. + +"It's got hair!" cried Ruth, in rapture. "Mother! real hair, and it +curls; see it curl!" + +"Look at its little hands!" murmured Mary. "They're like pink shells, +only soft. Oh! see it move them, Ruth!" She caught her sister's arm +in a sudden movement of delight. + +"Oh, mother, mayn't we keep it?" cried both girls at once. + +Mother Golden was examining the baby's clothes. + +"Cambric slip, fine enough, but not so terrible fine. Flannel blanket, +machine-embroidered--stop! here's a note." + +She opened a folded paper, and read a few words, written in a +carefully rough hand. + +"His mother is dead, his father a waif. Ask the woman with the kind +eyes to take care of him, for Christ's sake." + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden, again. + +"It's a boy, then!" said Father Golden, brightening perceptibly. He +came forward, the boys edging forward too, encouraged by another +masculine presence. + +"It's a boy, and a beauty!" said Mother Golden, wiping her eyes. +"I never see a prettier child. Poor mother, to have to go and leave +him. Father, what do you say?" + +"It's for you to say, mother;" said Father Golden. "It's to you the +child was sent." + +"Do you suppose 'twas me that was meant? They might have mistaken the +house." + +"Don't talk foolishness!" said Father Golden. "The question is, what +shall we do with it? There's places, a plenty, where foundlings have +the best of bringing up; and you've got care enough, as it is, mother, +without taking on any more." + +"Oh! we could help!" cried Mary. "I could wash and dress it, I know +I could, and I'd just love to." + +"So could I!" said twelve-year-old Ruth. "We'd take turns, Mary and I. +Do let's keep it, mother!" + +"It's a great responsibility!" said Father Golden. + +"Great Jemima!" said Mother Golden, with a sniff. "If I couldn't +take the responsibility of a baby, I'd give up." + +Father Golden's mind moved slowly, and while he was meditating a +reply, his wife issued various commands, and went through some +intricate feminine manoeuvres, with the effect of increased +fluffiness on the baby's part. In five minutes she was feeding the +child with warm milk from a spoon, and proclaiming that he ate +"like a Major!" + +The boys, gaining more and more confidence, were now close at her +knee, and watched the process with eager eyes. + +"He's swallering like anything!" cried Lemuel. "I can see him do it +with his throat, same as anybody." + +"See him grab the spoon!" said Joseph. "My! ain't he strong? Can he +talk, mother?" + +"Joe, you chuckle-head!" said Adam, who was sixteen, and knew most +things. "How can he talk, when he hasn't got any teeth?" + +"Uncle 'Rastus hasn't got any teeth," retorted Joseph, "and he talks +like a buzz-saw." + +"Hush, Joseph!" said Mother Golden, reprovingly. "Your Uncle 'Rastus +is a man of years." + +"Yes, mother!" said Joseph, meekly. + +"Baby _has_ got a tooth, too, Adam!" Mother Golden continued, +triumphantly. "I feel it pricking through the gum this minute. And +he so good, and laughing like a sunflower! Did it hurt him, then, a +little precious man? he shall have a nice ring to-morrow day, to +bitey on, so he shall!" + +"I suppose, then, he must be as much as a week old," hazarded Adam, +in an offhand tone. "They are never born with teeth, are they, +unless they are going to be Richard the Thirds, or something +wonderful?" + +"Perhaps he is!" said Ruth. "He looks wonderful enough for Richard +the Twentieth, or anything." + +But--"A week old!" said Mother Golden. "It's time there was a baby in +this house, if you don't know better than that, Adam. About six +months old I call him, and as pretty a child as ever I saw, even my +own." + +She looked half-defiantly at Father Golden, who returned the look +with one of mild deprecation. + +"I was only thinking of the care 'twould be to you, mother," he said. +"We're bound to make inquiries, and report the case, and so forth; +but if nothing comes of that, we might keep the child for a spell, +and see how things turn out." + +"That's what I was thinking!" said Mother Golden, eagerly. "I was +thinking anyway, Joel, 'twould be best to keep him through his +teething and stomach troubles, and give him a good start in the way +of proper food and nursing. At them homes and nurseries, they mean +well, but the most of them's young, and they _don't_ understand a +child's stomach. It's experience they need, not good-will, I'm well +aware. Of course, when Baby begun to be a boy, things might be +different. You work hard enough as it is, father, and there's places, +no doubt, could do better for him, maybe, than what we could. +But--well, seeing whose name he come in, I _do_ feel to see him +through his teething." + +"Children, what do you say?" asked Father Golden. "You're old enough +to have your opinion, even the youngest of you." + +"Oh, keep him! keep him!" clamored the three younger children. + +Adam and Lemuel exchanged a glance of grave inquiry. + +"I guess he'd better stay, father!" said Adam. + +"I think so, too!" said Lemuel; and both gave something like a sigh +of relief. + +"Then that's settled," said Father Golden, "saying and supposing +that no objection turns up. Next thing is, what shall we call this +child?" + +All eyes were fixed on the baby, who, now full of warm milk, sat +throned on Mother Golden's knee, blinking content. + +It was a pretty picture: the rosy, dimpled creature, the yellow +floss ruffled all over his head, his absurd little mouth open in a +beaming smile; beaming above him, Mother Golden's placid face in its +frame of silver hair; fronting them, Father Golden in his big +leather chair, solid, comfortable, benevolent; and the five children, +their honest, sober faces lighted up with unusual excitement. A +pleasant, homelike picture. Nothing remarkable in the way of setting; +the room, with its stuffed chairs, its tidies, and cabinet organ, was +only unlike other such rooms from the fact that Mother Golden +habitually sat in it; she could keep even haircloth from being +commonplace. But now, all the light in the room seemed to centre on +the yellow flossy curls against her breast. + +"A-goo!" said the baby, in a winning gurgle. + +"He says his name's Goo!" announced Joseph. + +"Don't be a chuckle-head, Joe!" said Adam. "What was the name on the +paper, mother?" + +"It said 'his father is a Waif;' but I don't take that to be a +Christian name. Surname, more likely, shouldn't you say, father?" + +"Not a Christian name, certainly," said Father Golden. "Not much of +a name anyhow, 'pears to me. We'd better give the child a suitable +name, mother, saying and supposing no objection turns up. Coming +into a Christian family, let him have Christian baptism, I say." + +"Oh, call him Arthur!" + +"Bill!" + +"Richard!" + +"Charlie!" + +"Reginald!" cried the children in chorus. + +"I do love a Bible name!" said Mother Golden, pensively. "It gives a +child a good start, so to say, and makes him think when he hears +himself named, or ought so to do. All our own children has Bible +names, father; don't let us cut the little stranger off from his +privilege." + +"But Bible names are so ugly!" objected Lemuel, who was sensitive, +and suffered under his own cognomen. + +"Son," said Father Golden, "your mother chooses the names in this +family." + +"Yes, father!" said Lemuel. + +"Lemuel, dear, you was named for a king!" said Mother Golden. +"He was a good boy to his mother, and so are you. Bring the Bible, +and let us see what it opens at. Joseph, you are the youngest, you +shall open it." + +Joseph opened the great brown leather Bible, and closing his eyes, +laid his hand on the page; then looking down, he read: + +"'There is little Benjamin their ruler, and the princes of Judah +their council: the princes of Zebulun and the princes of Nephtali.'" + +"Zebulun and Nephtali are outlandish-sounding names," said Mother +Golden. + +"I never knew but one Nephtali, and he squinted. Benjamin shall be +this child's name. Little Benjamin: the Lord bless and keep him!" + +"Amen!" said Father Golden. + + + +_PART II_. + +"Father, may I come in, if you are not busy?" + +It was Mary who spoke; Mary, the dear eldest daughter, now a woman +grown, grave and mild, trying hard to fill the place left empty +these two years, since Mother Golden went smiling out of life. + +Father Golden looked up from his book; he was an old man now, but +his eyes were still young and kind. + +"What is it, daughter Mary?" + +"The same old story, father dear; Benny in mischief again. This time +he has rubbed soot on all the door-handles, and the whole house is +black with it. I hate to trouble you, father, but I expect you'll +have to speak to him. I do love the child so, I'm not strict +enough--I'm ashamed to say it, but they all think so, and I know +it's true--and Adam is too strict." + +"Yes, Adam is too strict," said Father Golden. He looked at a +portrait that stood on his desk, a framed photograph of Mother Golden. + +"I'll speak to the child, Mary," he said. "I'll see that this does +not happen again. What is it, Ruthie?" + +"I was looking for Mary, father. I wanted--oh, Mary! what shall I do +with Benny? he has tied Rover and the cat together by their tails, +and they are rushing all about the garden almost crazy. I must +finish this work, so I can't attend to it. He says he is playing +Samson. I wish you would speak to him, father." + +"I will do so, Ruth, I will do so. Don't be distressed, my daughter." + +"But he is so naughty, father! he is so different from the other boys. +Joe never used to play such tricks when he was little." + +"The spring vacation will be over soon now, Ruth," said Sister Mary. +"He is always better when he is at work, and there is so little for +a boy to do just at this time of year." + +"I left Joe trying to catch the poor creatures," said Ruth. +"Here he comes now." + +Joe, a tall lad of seventeen, entered with a face of tragedy. + +"Any harm done, Joseph?" asked Father Golden, glancing at the +portrait on his desk. + +"It's that kid again, father!" said Joe. "Poor old Rover--" + +"Father knows about that, Joe!" said Mary, gently. + +"Did you get them apart?" cried Ruth. + +"Yes, I did, but not till they had smashed most of the glass in the +kitchen windows, and trampled all over Mary's geraniums. Something +has got to be done about that youngster, father. He's getting to be +a perfect nuisance." + +"I am thinking of doing something about him, son Joseph," said Father +Golden. "Are your brothers in the house?" + +"I think I heard them come in just now, sir. Do you want to see them?" + +Apparently Adam and Lemuel wanted to see their father, for they +appeared in the doorway at this moment: quiet-looking men, with grave, +"set" faces; the hair already beginning to edge away from their +temples. + +"You are back early from the office, boys!" said Father Golden. + +"We came as soon as we got the message," said Adam. "I hope nothing +is wrong, father." + +"What message, Adam?" + +"Didn't you send for us? Benny came running in, all out of breath, +and said you wished to see us at once. If he has been playing tricks +again--" + +Adam's grave face darkened into sternness. The trick was too evident. + +"Something must be done about that boy, father!" he said. "He is the +torment of the whole family." + +"No one can live a day in peace!" said Lemuel. + +"No dumb creature's life is safe!" said Joe. + +"He breaks everything he lays hands on," said Ruth, "and he won't +keep his hands off anything." + +"You were all little once, boys!" said Mary. + +"We never behaved in this kind of way!" said the brothers, sedate +from their cradles. "Something must be done!" + +"You are right," said Father Golden. "Something must be done." + +Glancing once more at the portrait of Mother Golden, he turned and +faced his children with grave looks. + +"Sit down, sons and daughters!" said the old man. "I have something +to say to you." + +The young people obeyed, wondering, but not questioning. Father +Golden was head of the house. + +"You all come to me," said Father Golden, "with complaints of little +Benjamin. It is singular that you should come to-day, for I have +been waiting for this day to speak to you about the child myself." + +He paused for a moment; then added, weighing his words slowly, as +was his wont when much in earnest, "Ten years ago to-day, that child +was left on our door-step." + +The brothers and sisters uttered an exclamation, half surprised, +half acquiescent. + +"It doesn't seem so long!" said Adam. + +"It seems longer!" said Mary. + +"I keep forgetting he came that way!" murmured Joe. + +"I felt doubtful about taking him in," Father Golden went on. +"But your mother wished it; you all wished it. We decided to keep +him for a spell, and give him a good start in life, and we have kept +him till now." + +"Of course we have kept him!" said Ruth. + +"Naturally!" said Lemuel. + +Adam and Mary said nothing, but looked earnestly at their father. + +"Little Benjamin is now ten years old, more or less," said Father +Golden. "You are men and women grown; even Joseph is seventeen. Your +mother has entered into the rest that is reserved for the people of +God, and I am looking forward in the hope that, not through any +merit of mine, but the merciful grace of God, I may soon be called +to join her. Adam and Lemuel, you are settled in the business, and +looking forward to making homes of your own with worthy young women. +Joseph is going to college, which is a new thing in our family, but +one I approve, seeing his faculty appears to lie that way. Ruth will +make a first-rate dressmaker, I am told by those who know. Mary--" + +His quiet voice faltered. Mary took his hand and kissed it +passionately; a sob broke from her, and she turned her face away +from the brothers and sister who loved but did not understand her. +They looked at her with grave compassion, but no one would have +thought of interrupting Father Golden. + +"Mary, you are the home-maker," the old man went on. "I hope that +when I am gone this home will still be here, with you at the head of +it. You are your mother's own daughter; there is no more to say." He +was silent for a time, and then continued. + +"There remains little Benjamin, a child of ten years. He is no kin +to us; an orphan, or as good as one; no person has ever claimed him, +or ever will. The time has come to decide what shall be done with +the child." + +Again he paused, and looked around. The serious young faces were all +intent upon him; in some, the intentness seemed deepening into +trouble, but no one spoke or moved. + +"We have done all that we undertook to do for him, that night we +took him in, and more. We have brought him--I should say your mother +brought him--through his sickly days; we 'most lost him, you remember, +when he was two years old, with the croup--and he is now a healthy, +hearty child, and will likely make a strong man. He has been well +treated, well fed and clothed, maybe better than he would have been +by his own parents if so't had been. He is turning out wild and +mischievous, though he has a good heart, none better; and you all, +except Mary, come to me with complaints of him. + +"Now, this thing has gone far enough. One of two things: either this +boy is to be sent away to some institution, to take his place among +other orphans and foundlings, or--he must be one of you for now and +always, to share alike with you while I live, to be bore with and +helped by each and every one of you as if he was your own blood, and +to have his share of the property when I am gone. Sons and daughters, +this question is for you to decide. I shall say nothing. My life is +'most over, yours is just beginning. I have no great amount to leave +you, but 'twill be comfortable so far as it goes. Benjamin has +one-sixth of that, and becomes my own son, to be received and +treated by you as your own brother, or he goes." + +Mary hid her face in her hands. Adam walked to the window and looked +out; but the other three broke out into a sudden, hurried clamor, +strangely at variance with their usual staid demeanor. + +"Oh, father, we couldn't let him go!" + +"Why, father, I can't think what you mean!" + +"I'm sure, sir, we never thought of such a thing as sending him away. +Why, he's our Ben." + +"Good enough little kid, only mischievous." + +"Needs a little governing, that's all. Mary spoils him; no harm in +him, not a mite." + +"And the lovingest little soul! the minute he found that Kitty's paw +was cut, he sat down and cried--" + +"I guess if Benny went, I'd go after him pretty quick!" said Joseph, +who had been loudest in his complaint against the child. + +Mary looked up and smiled through her tears. "Joe, your heart is in +the right place!" she said. "I finished your shirts this morning, +dear; I'm going to begin on your slippers to-night." + +"Well, but, father--" + +"Father dear, about little Benny--" + +"Yes, sir--poor little Ben!" + +"Go easy!" said Father Golden; and his face, as he looked from one +to the other, was as bright as his name. + +"Why, children, you're real excited. I don't want excitement, nor +crying--Mary, daughter, I knew how you would feel, anyway. I want a +serious word, 'go,' or 'stay,' from each one of you; a word that +will last your lives long. I'll begin with the youngest, because +that was your mother's way. She always said the youngest was nearest +heaven. Joseph, what is your word about little Benjamin?" + +"Stay, of course!" cried Joe. "Benny does tease me, but I should be +nowhere without him." + +"Ruth! you seemed greatly tried just now. Think what you are going +to say." + +"Oh, of course he must stay, father. Why, the child is the life of +the house. We are all so humdrum and mopy, I don't know what we +should do without Benny to keep us moving." + +"Mary, daughter--not that I need your answer, my dear." + +"He is the only child I shall ever have!" said Mary, simply. + +There was silence for a moment, and all thought of the grave where +her young heart had laid its treasure. + +"Lemuel!" + +"I've been hard on the child, Father!" said Lemuel. "He's so +different from the rest of us, and he does try me. But mother loved +him, and down at the bottom we all do, I guess. I say 'stay,' too, +and I'll try to be more of a brother to him from now on." + +"Son Adam, I have left you the longest time to reflect," said Father +Golden. "You are the oldest, and when I am gone it will be on you +and Mary that the heft of the care will come. Take all the time you +want, and then give us your word!" + +Adam turned round; his face was very grave, but he spoke cheerfully. + +"I have had time enough, Father," he said. "I was the first that +heard that little voice, ten years ago, and the first, except mother, +that saw the child; 'twould be strange if I were the one to send him +away. He came in Christ's name, and in that name I bid him stay." + +"Amen!" said Father Golden. + +A silence followed; but it was broken soon by a lively whistle, +shrilling out a rollicking tune; the next moment a boy came running +into the room. Curly, rosy, dirty, ragged, laughing, panting, little +Benjamin stood still and looked round on all the earnest, serious +faces. + +"What's the matter, all you folks?" he asked. "I should think you +was all in meeting, and sermon just beginning. Ruth, I tied up +Kitty's leg all right; and I'll dig greens to pay for the glass, Joe. +Say, Bro'rer-Adam-an'-Lem (Benny pronounced this as if it were one +word), did you forget it was April Fool's Day? Didn't I fool you good? +And--say! there's a fierce breeze and my new kite's a buster. Who'll +come out and fly her with me?" + +"I will, Benny!" said Adam, Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph. + + + + +DON ALONZO + + +"Don Alonzo! Don Alonzo Pitkin! Where be you?" + +There was no answer. + +"Don Alonzo! Deacon Bassett's here, and wishful to see you. Don +Alonzo Pit-_kin_!" + +Mrs. Joe Pitkin stood at the door a moment, waiting; then she shook +her shoulders with a despairing gesture, and went back into the +sitting-room. "I don't know where he is, Deacon Bassett," she said. +"There! I'm sorry; but he's so bashful, Don Alonzo is, he'll creep +off and hide anywheres sooner than see folks. I do feel mortified, +but I can't seem to help it, no way in the world." + +"No need to, Mis' Pitkin," said Deacon Bassett, rising slowly and +reaching for his hat. "No need to. I should have been pleased to see +Don 'Lonzo, and ask if he got benefit from those pills I left for him +last time I called; what he wants is to doctor reg'lar, and keep +straight on doctorin'. But I can call again; and I felt it a duty to +let you know what's goin' on at your own yard-gate, I may say. Mis' +Pegrum's house ain't but a stone's throw from yourn, is it? Well, +I'll be wishing you good day, and I hope Joseph will be home before +there's any trouble. I don't suppose you've noticed whether Don +Alonzo has growed any, sence he took those pills?" + +"No, I haven't!" said Mrs. Pitkin, shortly. "Good day, Deacon Bassett." + +"Yes, you can call again," she added, mentally, as she watched the +deacon making his way slowly down the garden walk, stopping the +while to inspect every plant that looked promising. "You can call +again, but you will not see him, if you come every day. It does beat +all, the way folks can't let that boy alone. Talk about his being +cranky! I'd be ten times as cranky as he is, if I was pestered by +every old podogger that's got stuff to sell." + +She closed the door, and addressed the house, apparently empty and +still. "He's gone!" she said, speaking rather loudly, "Don 'Lonzo, +he's gone, and you can come out. I expect you're hid somewheres +about here, for I didn't hear you go out." + +There was no sound. She opened the door of the ground-floor bedroom +and looked in. All was tidy and pleasant as usual. Every mat lay in +its place; the chairs were set against the wall as she loved to see +them; the rows of books, the shelves of chemicals, at which she +hardly dared to look, and which she never dared to touch for fear +something would "go off" and kill her instantly, the specimens in +their tall glass jars, the case of butterflies, all were in their +place; but there was no sign of life in the room, save the canary in +the window. + +"Deacon Bassett's gone!" she said, speaking to the canary. + +There was a scuffling sound from under the bed; the valance was +lifted, and a head emerged cautiously. + +"I tell you he's gone!" repeated Mira Pitkin, rather impatiently. +"Come out, Don Alonzo! There! you are foolish, I must say!" + +The head came out, followed by a figure. The figure was that of a +boy of twelve, but the head belonged to a youth of seventeen. The +rounded shoulders, the sharp features, the dark, sunken eyes, all +told a tale of suffering; Don Alonzo Pitkin was a hunchback. + +His pretty, silly mother had given him the foolish name which seemed +a perpetual mockery of his feeble person. She had found it in an old +romance, and had only wavered between it and Señor Gonzalez,--which +she pronounced Seener Gon-zallies,--the other dark-eyed hero of the +book. Perhaps she pictured to herself her baby growing up into such +another lofty, black-plumed hidalgo as those whose magnificent +language and mustachios had so deeply impressed her. It was true +that she herself had pinkish eyes and white eyelashes, while her +husband was familiarly known as "Carrots,"--but what of that? + +But he had a fall, this poor baby,--a cruel fall, from the +consequences of which no high-sounding name could save him; and then +presently the little mother died, and the father married again. + +The boy's childhood had been a sad one, and all the happiness he had +known had been lately, since his elder brother married. Big, +good-natured Joe Pitkin, marrying the prettiest girl in the village, +had been sore at heart, even in his new-wedded happiness, at the +thought of leaving the deformed, sensitive boy alone with the +careless father and the shrewish stepmother. But his young wife had +been the first to say: + +"Let Don Alonzo come and live with us, Joe! Where there is room for +two, there is room for three, and that boy wants to be made of!" + +So the strong, cheerful, wholesome young woman took the sickly lad +into her house and heart, and "made of him," to use her own quaint +phrase; and she became mother and sister and sweetheart, all in one, +to Don Alonzo. + +Now she stood looking at him, shaking her head, yet smiling. +"Don 'Lonzo, how can you behave so?" she asked. "This is the third +time Deacon Bassett has been here to see you, and he's coming again; +and what be I to say to him next time he comes? You can't go through +life without seeing folks, you know." + +Don Alonzo shook his shoulders, and pretended to look for dust on +his coat. He would have been deeply mortified to find any, for he +took care of his own room, and prided himself, with reason, on its +neatness. Also, the space beneath his bedstead was cupboard as well +as hiding-place. + +"He troubles me," he said, meekly. "Deacon Bassett troubles me more +than any of 'em. Did he ask if I'd grown any?" + +"Well, he did," Mira admitted. "But I expect he didn't mean anything +by it." + +"He's asked that ever since I can remember," said Don Alonzo; +"and I'm weary of it. There! And then he says that if I would only +take his Green Elixir three times a day for three months, I'd grow +like a sapling willow. He hopes to make his living out of me, yet!" + +Mrs. Pitkin laughed, comfortably, and smoothed the lad's hair back +with a motherly touch. "All the same," she said, "you must quit +hiding under the bed when folks come to call, Don 'Lonzo. You don't +want 'em to think I treat you bad, and keep you out o' sight, so's +they'll not find it out." Then, seeing the boy's face flush with +distress, she added, hastily, "Besides, you're getting to be 'most a +man now; I want strangers should know there's men-folks about the +place, now Joe's away. There's burglars in town, Don 'Lonzo, and we +must look out and keep things shut up close, nights." + +"Burglars!" repeated the youth. + +"Yes; Deacon Bassett was telling me about 'em just now. I guess +likely half what he came for was to give me a good scare, knowing +Joe was away. Now, ain't I uncharitable! 'Twas just as likely to be +a friendly warning. Anyway, he was telling me they came through from +Tupham Corner day before yesterday, and they've been lurking and +spying round." + +"Some boys saw them, coming through Green Gully, and were scared to +death at their looks; they said they were big, black-looking men, +strangers to these parts; and they swore at the boys and ordered 'em +off real ugly. Nobody else has seen them in honest daylight, but +they broke into Dan'l Brown's house last night. He's deaf, you know, +and didn't hear a sound. They came right into the room where he +slept,--Deacon Bassett was there the next day, and saw their tracks all +over the floor,--and took ten dollars out of his pants pocket. The +pants was hanging right beside the bed, and they turned them clean +inside out, and Dan'l never stirred." + +"My, oh!" exclaimed Don Alonzo. + +"Why, it's terrible!" Mira went on. "Then, last night, they got into +Mis' Pegrum's house, too. She's a lone woman, you know, same as +Dan'l is a man. Seems as if they had took note of every house where +there wasn't plenty of folks to be stirring and taking notice. They +got into the pantry window, and took every living thing she had to +eat. They might do that, and still go hungry, Deacon Bassett says; +you know there's always been a little feeling between him and Mis' +Pegrum; her cat and his hens--it's an old story. Well, and she did +hear a noise, and came out into the kitchen, and there sat two great, +black men, eating her best peach preserves, and the cake she'd made +for the Ladies' Aid, to-day. She was so scare't, she couldn't speak +a word; and they just laughed and told her to go back to bed, and +she went. Poor-spirited, it seems, but I don't know as I should have +done a bit better in her place. There! I wish Joe'd come back! I +feel real nervous, hearing about it all. Oh, and her gold watch, too, +they got, and three solid silver teaspoons that belonged to her +mother. She's sick abed, Deacon Bassett says, and I don't wonder. I +don't feel as if I should sleep a wink to-night!" + +The color came into Don Alonzo's thin cheeks. "There sha'n't no one +do you any hurt while I'm round, Mira!" he said; and for a moment he +forgot his deformity, and straightened his poor shoulders, and held +up his head like a man. + +There was no shade of amusement in Mira Pitkin's honest smile. +"I expect you'd be as brave as a lion, Don 'Lonzo," she said. +"I expect you'd shoo 'em right out of the yard, same as you did the +turkey gobbler when he run at my red shawl; don't you remember? But +all the same, I hope they will not come; and I shall be glad to see +Joe back again." + +At that moment the lad caught sight of himself in the little +looking-glass that hung over his chest of drawers. Mira, watching him, +saw the sparkle go out of his eyes, saw his shoulders droop, and his +head sink forward; and she said, quickly: + +"But there! we've said enough about the burglars, I should think! +How's the experiments, Don 'Lonzo? I heard an awful fizzing going on, +just before Deacon Bassett came in. I expect you've got great things +hidden under that bed; I expect there's other perils round besides +burglars! Joe may come back and find us both blown into kindlin'-wood, +after all!" + +This was a favorite joke of theirs; she had the pleasure of seeing a +smile come into the boy's sad eyes; then, with another of those +motherly touches on his hair, she went away, singing, to her work. + +Don Alonzo looked after her. From the way his eyes followed her, she +might have been a glorified saint in robe and crown, instead of a +rosy-cheeked young woman in a calico gown. "There sha'n't nothing +hurt her while I'm round!" he muttered again. + +The night fell, dark and cloudy. Mrs. Pitkin went to bed early, +after shaking every door and trying every window to make sure that +all was safe. Don Alonzo went through the same process twice after +she was gone, but he did not feel like sleeping, himself. He lay +down on his bed, but his thoughts seemed dancing from one thing to +another,--to Brother Joe, travelling homeward now, he hoped, after a +week's absence; to Mira's goodness, her patience with his wayward +self, her kindness in letting him mess with chemicals, and turn the +shed into a laboratory, and frighten her with explosions; to Dan'l +Brown and Mis' Pegrum and the burglars. + +Ah, the burglars! What could he do, if they should really come to +the house? They were two men, probably well-grown; he--he knew what +he was! How could he carry out his promise to Mira, if she should be +in actual danger? Not by strength, clearly; but there must be some +way; bodily strength was not the only thing in the world. He looked +about him, seeking for inspiration; his eyes, wandering here and +there, lighted upon something, then remained fixed. The room was +dimly lighted by a small lamp, but the corners were dark, and in one +of these dark corners something was shining with a faint, uncertain +light. The phosphorescent match-box! He had made it himself, and had +ornamented it with a grotesque face in luminous paint. This face now +glimmered and glowered at him from the darkness; and Don Alonzo lay +still and looked back at it. Lying so and looking, there crept into +his mind an old story that he had once read; and he laughed to +himself, and then nodded at the glimmering face. "Thank you, old +fellow!" said Don Alonzo. + +Was there a noise? Was it his imagination, or did a branch snap, a +twig rustle down the road? The hunchback had ears like a fox, and in +an instant he was at the window, peering out into the darkness. At +first he could see nothing; but gradually the lilac bushes at the +gate came into sight, and the clumps of flowers in the little garden +plot. Not a breath was stirring, yet--hark! Again a twig snapped, a +branch crackled; and now again! and nearer each time. Don Alonzo +strained his eyes to pierce the darkness. Were those bushes, those +two shapes by the gate? They were not there a moment ago. Ha! they +moved; they were coming nearer. Their feet made no sound on the +soft earth, but his sharp ears caught a new sound,--a whisper, faint, +yet harsh, like a hiss. Don Alonzo had seen and heard enough. He +left the window, and the next moment was diving under the bed. + + * * * * * + +Mira Pitkin usually slept like a child, from the moment her head +touched the pillow till the precise second when something woke in +her brain and said "Five o'clock!" But to-night her sleep was broken. +She tossed and muttered in her dreams; and suddenly she sat up in bed +with eyes wide open and a distinct sense of something wrong. Her +first thought was of fire; she sniffed; the air was pure and clear. +Then, like a cry in her ears, came--"The burglars!" She held her +breath and listened; was the night as still as it was dark? No! a +faint, steady sound came to her ears. A mouse, was it, or--the sound +of a tool? + +And then, almost noiselessly, a window was opened, the window of the +upper entry, next her room. Mira was at her own window in an instant, +raising it; that, too, opened silently, for Joe was a carpenter and +detested noisy windows. She peered out into the thick darkness. Black, +black! Was the blackness deeper there, just at the front door? +Surely it was! Surely something, somebody, was busy with the lock of +the door; and then she heard, as Don Alonzo had heard, a low sound +like a hiss, beside the soft scraping of the tool. What should she do? +The windows were fast, there was a bar and chain inside the door, +but what of that? Two desperate men could force an entrance anywhere +in a moment. What could she do, a woman, with only a sickly boy to +help her? And--who had opened that upper window? Was there a third +accomplice--for she thought she could see two spots of deeper +blackness by the door--hidden in the house? Oh, if only Joe had +borrowed his father's old pistol for her, as she had begged him to do! + +Mira opened her lips to shout, in the hope of rousing the nearest +neighbors, though they were not very near. Opened her lips--but no +sound came from them. For at that instant something appeared at the +window next her own; something stepped from it, out on to the little +porch over the front door. Mira Pitkin gasped, and felt her heart +fail within her. A skeleton! Every limb outlined in pale fire, the +bony fingers points of wavering flame. What awful portent was this? +The Thing paused and turned, a frightful face gazed at her for an +instant, a hand waved, then the Thing dropped, silent as a shadow, on +that spot of deeper blackness that was stooping at the front door. + +Then rose an outcry wild and hideous. The burglar shouted hoarsely, +and tried to shake off the Thing that sat on his shoulders, gripping +his neck with hands of iron, digging his sides with bony knees and +feet; but the second thief, who saw by what his comrade was ridden, +shrieked in pure animal terror, uttering unearthly sounds that cut +the air like a knife. For a moment he could only stand and shriek; +then he turned and fled through the yard, and the other fled after +him, the glimmering phantom clutching him tight. Down the road they +fled. Mira could now see nothing save the riding Thing, apparently +horsed on empty air; but now she saw it, still clutching close with +its left hand, raise the right, holding what looked like a shining +snake, and bring it down hissing and curling. Again, and again! and +with every blow the shrieks grew more and more hideous, till now +they had reached the cluster of houses at the head of the street, +and every window was flung open, and lights appeared, and voices +clamored in terror and amaze. The village was roused; and now--now, +the glimmering skeleton was seen to loose its hold. It dropped from +its perch, and turning that awful face toward her once more, came +loping back, silent as a shadow. But when she saw that, Mira Pitkin, +for the first and last time in her sensible life, fainted away. + +When she came to herself, the skeleton was bending over her anxiously, +but its face was no longer frightful; it was white and anxious, and +the eyes that met hers were piteous with distress. + +"My, oh!" cried Don Alonzo. "I vowed no one should do her any hurt, +and now I've done it myself." + +There was little sleep in the Pitkin house that night. The neighbors +came flocking in with cries and questions; and when all was explained, +Don Alonzo found himself the hero of the hour. For once he did not +hide under the bed, but received everybody--from Deacon Bassett down +to the smallest boy who came running in shirt and trousers, +half-awake, and athirst for marvels--with modest pride, and told +over and over again how it all happened. + +'Twas no great thing, he maintained. He had fooled considerable with +phosphorus, and had some of the luminous paint that he had mixed +some time before. Thinking about these fellows, he remembered a +story he read once, where they painted up a dead body to scare away +some murdering robbers. He thought a living person was as good as a +dead one, any day; so he tried it on, and it appeared to succeed. He +didn't think likely those men would stop short of the next township, +from the way they were running when he got down. Oh, the snake? That +was Joe's whip. He presumed likely it hurt some, from the way they +yelled. + +But the best of all was when Joe came home, the very next day, and +when, the three of them sitting about the supper-table, Mira herself +told the great story, from the first moment of Deacon Bassett's +visit down to the triumphant close--"And I see him coming back, +shining like a corpse-candle, and I fell like dead on the floor!" + +"There!" she continued, beaming across the table at Joe, as she +handed him his fourth cup of coffee, "you may go away again whenever +you're a mind to; I sha'n't be afraid. You ain't half the man Don +'Lonzo is!" + +"I don't expect I be!" said big Joe, beaming back again. + +It seemed to Don Alonzo that their smiles made the kitchen warm as +June, though October was falling cold that year. + + + + +_THE SHED CHAMBER_ + + +"Well, I once answered an advertisement in the _Farmer's Friend_, +girls, and I have always been glad I did. It was that summer when +father broke his arm and the potato crop failed, and everything +seemed to be going wrong on the farm. There were plenty of girls to +do the work at home, and I thought I ought to get something outside +to do if I could. I tried here and there, but without success; at +last my eye caught a notice in the _Farmer's Friend_, just the same +kind of notice as that you are speaking of, Lottie: 'Wanted, a +capable, steady girl to assist in housework and take care of children. +Address, with reference, A. B. C., Dashville.' I talked it over with +mother, and she agreed with me; father didn't take so kindly to the +idea, naturally; he likes to have us all at home, especially in +summer. However, he said I might do as I pleased; so I answered the +notice and sent a letter from our pastor, saying what he thought of +me. I was almost ashamed to send it, too; he has always been more +than kind to me, you know; if I'd been his own daughter he couldn't +have said more. Well, they wrote for me to come, and I went. + +"Girls, it was pretty hard when it came to that part, leaving the +house, and mother standing in the doorway trying not to look anxious, +and father fretting and saying it was all nonsense, and he shouldn't +have hands enough to pick the apples. Of course he knew I knew better, +but I was glad he didn't want me to go, after all. Sister Nell and +Sister Margie had packed my trunk, and they were as excited as I was, +and almost wished they were going instead, but not quite, I think; +and so Joe whistled to old Senator, and I waved my handkerchief, and +mother and the two girls waved their aprons, and off I went. + +"I didn't really feel alone till I was in the train and had lost +sight of Joe standing and smoothing Senator's mane and nodding at me; +then the world seemed very big and Tupham Corner a very small corner +in it. I will not say anything more about this part; you'll find it +out soon enough yourselves, when you go away from home the first time. + +"It was a long journey, or it seemed so then; but everything comes +to an end some time, and there was plenty of daylight left for me to +see my new home when I arrived. It was a pleasant-looking house, +long and rambling, painted yellow, too, which made me more homesick +than ever. There were two children standing in the doorway, and +presently Mr. Bowles came out and shook hands with me and helped me +down with my things. He was a kind, sensible-looking man, and he +made the children come and speak to me and shake hands. They were +shy then and hung back, and put their fingers in their mouths; I +knew just how they felt. I wanted to hang back, too, when he took me +into the house to see Mrs. Bowles. She was an invalid, he told me, +and could not leave her room. + +"Girls, the minute I saw that sweet, pale face, with the look of +pain and patience in it, I knew what I had come for. I do think we +understood each other from the first minute, Mrs. Bowles and I; for +she held my hand a good while, looking into my face and I into hers, +and she must have seen how sorry I was for her, and how I hoped I +could help her; for when I went into the kitchen I heard her say, +with a little sigh, as she lay back again, 'O John, I do believe +this is the right one at last!' You may believe I made up my mind +that I would be the right one, Lottie! + +"That kitchen was in a scandalous condition. It was well I had seen +Mrs. Bowles first or I should have wanted to run away that very +minute. The eldest little girl--it seems strange to think that there +ever was a time when I didn't know Barbara's name!--followed me out,--I +think her father told her to,--and rubbed along against the wall, +just exactly as I used to when I felt shy. When I asked her a little +about where things were, and so on--they were everywhere and nowhere; +you never saw such a looking place in your life!--she took her +finger out of her mouth, and pretty soon I told her about our yellow +coon kittens, and after that we got on very well. She said they had +had one girl after another, each worse than the last. The shoe +factory had taken off all the good help and left only the incapable +ones. The last one, Barbara said, had almost starved them, and been +saucy to Mrs. Bowles, and dirty--well, there was no need to tell me +that. It was a shame to see good things so destroyed; for the things +were good, only all dirty and broken, and--oh, well! there's no use +in telling about that part. + +"I asked when her mother had had anything to eat, and she said not +since noon; I knew that was no way for an invalid to be taken care of, +so I put the kettle on and hunted about till I found a cup and saucer +I liked, and then I found the bread-box--oh, dear! that bread-box, +girls! But the mold scraped right off, and the bread wasn't really +bad; I made some toast and cut the crust off, and put just a thin +scrape of butter on it; then I sent Barbara in with a little tray +and told her to see that her mother took it all. I thought she'd +feel more like taking it from the child than from a stranger, if she +hadn't much appetite. My dears, the child came out again in a few +minutes, her face all alight. + +"'She drank it all, every drop!' she cried. 'And now she's eating +the toast. She said how did you know, and she cried, but now she's +all right. Father 'most cried, too, I think. Say!' + +"'Yes, dear.' + +"'Father says the Lord sent you. Did he?'" + +[Illustration: "'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'"] + +"I nodded, for I couldn't say anything that minute. I kissed the +little girl and went on with my cleaning. Girls, don't ever grudge +the time you spend in learning to cook nicely. Food is what keeps the +breath of life in us, and it all depends upon us girls now, and later, +when we are older women, whether it is good or bad. No, Sue, I'm not +going to preach, but I shall never forget how that tired man and +those hungry children enjoyed their supper. 'Twas mother's supper, +every bit of it, from the light biscuit down to the ham omelette; I +found the ham bone in a dark cupboard, all covered with mold, like +the bread, but 'twas good and sweet underneath. I only wish mother +had been there to see them eat. After supper Mr. Bowles came and +shook hands with me. I didn't know then that he never used any more +words than he had to; but I was pleased, if I did think it funny. + +"I was tired enough by the time bedtime came, and after I had put +the children to bed and seen that Mrs. Bowles was comfortable, and +had water and crackers and a candle beside her--she was a very poor +sleeper--I was glad enough to go to bed myself. Barbara showed me my +room, a pretty little room with sloping gables and windows down by +the floor. There were two doors, and I asked her where the other led +to. She opened it and said, 'The shed chamber.' I looked over her +shoulder, holding up the candle, and saw a great bare room, with +some large trunks in it, but no other furniture except a high +wardrobe. I liked the look of the place, for it was a little like +our play room in the attic at home; but I was too tired to explore, +and I was asleep in ten minutes from the time I had tucked up +Barbara in her bed, and Rob and Billy in their double crib. + +"I should take a week if I tried to tell you all about those first +days; and, after all, it is one particular thing that I started to +tell, only there is so much that comes back to me. In a few days I +felt that I belonged there, almost as much as at home; they were +that kind of people, and made me feel that they cared about me, and +not only about what I did. Mrs. Bowles has always been the best +friend I have in the world after my own folks; it didn't take us a +day to see into each other, and by and by it got to be so that I +knew what she wanted almost before she knew, herself. + +"At the end of the week Mr. Bowles said he ought to go away on +business for a few days, and asked her if she would feel safe to +stay with me and the children, or if he should ask his brother to +come and sleep in the house. + +"'No, indeed!' said Mrs. Bowles. 'I shall feel as safe with Nora as +if I had a regiment in the house; a good deal safer!' she added, and +laughed. + +"So it was settled, and the next day Mr. Bowles went away and I was +left in full charge. I suppose I rather liked the responsibility. I +asked Mrs. Bowles if I might go all over the house to see how +everything fastened, and she said, 'Of course.' The front windows +were just common windows, quite high up from the floor; but in the +shed chamber, as in my room, they opened near the floor, and there +was no very secure way of fastening them, it seemed to me. However, I +wasn't going to say anything to make her nervous, and that was the +way they had always had them. If I had only known! + +"After the children went to bed that evening I read to Mrs. Bowles +for an hour, and then I went to warm up a little cocoa for her; she +slept better if she took a drop of something hot the last thing. It +was about nine o'clock. I had just got into the kitchen, and was +going to light the lamp, when I heard the door open softly. + +"'Who's there?' I asked. + +"'Only me,' said a girl's voice. + +"I lighted my lamp, and saw a girl about my own age, pretty, and +showily dressed. She said she was the girl who had left the house a +few days ago; she had forgotten something, and might she go up into +the shed chamber and get it? I told her to wait a minute, and went +and asked Mrs. Bowles. She said yes, Annie might go up. 'Annie was +careless and saucy,' she said, 'but I think she meant no harm. She +can go and get her things.' + +"I came back and told the girl, and she smiled and nodded. I did not +like her smile, I could not tell why. I started to go with her, but +she turned on me pretty sharply, and said she had been in the house +three months and didn't need to be shown the way by a stranger. I +didn't want to put myself forward, but no sooner had she run +up-stairs, and I heard her steps in the chamber above me, than +something seemed to be pushing, pushing me toward those stairs, +whether I would or no. I tried to hold back, and tell myself it was +nonsense, and that I was nervous and foolish; it made no difference, +I had to go up-stairs. + +"I went softly, my shoes making no noise. My own little room was dark, +for I had closed the blinds when the afternoon sun was pouring in +hot and bright; but a slender line of light lay across the blackness +like a long finger, and I knew the moon was shining in at the +windows of the shed chamber. I did a thing I had never done before +in my life; that silver finger came through the keyhole, and it drew +me to it. I knelt down and looked through. + +"The big room shone bare and white in the moonlight; the trunks +looked like great animals crouching along the walls. Annie stood in +the middle of the room, as if she were waiting or listening for +something. Then she slipped off her shoes and went to one of the +windows and opened it. I had fastened it, but the catch was old and +she knew the trick of it, of course. In another moment something +black appeared over the low sill; it was a man's head. My heart +seemed to stand still. She helped him, and he got in without making +a sound. He must have climbed up the big elm-tree which grew close +against the house. They stood whispering together for a few minutes, +but I could not hear a word. + +"The man was in stocking feet; he had an evil, coarse face, yet he +was good-looking, too, in a way. I thought the girl seemed frightened, +and yet pleased, too; and he seemed to be praising her, I thought, +and once he put his arms round her and kissed her. She went to the +wardrobe and opened it, but he shook his head; then she opened the +great cedar trunk, and he nodded, and measured it and got into it +and sat down. It was so deep that he could sit quite comfortably +with the cover down. Annie shut it and then opened it again. + +"I had seen all I wanted to see. I slipped down-stairs as I heard +her move toward the door; when she came down I was stirring my cocoa +on the stove, with my back to her. She came round and showed me a +bundle she had in her hand, and said she must be going now. I kept +my face in the shadow as well as I could, for I was afraid I might +not be able to look just as usual; but I spoke quietly, and asked +her if she had found everything, and wished her good night as +pleasantly as I knew how. All the while my head was in a whirl and +my heart beat so loud I thought she must have heard it. There was a +good deal of silver in the house, and I knew that Mr. Bowles had +drawn some money from the bank only a day or two before, to pay a +life-insurance premium. + +"I never listened to anything as I did to the sound of her footsteps; +even after they had died away, after she had turned the corner, a +good way off, I stood still, listening, not stirring hand or foot. +But when I no longer heard any sound my strength seemed to come back +with a leap, and I knew what I had to do. I told you my shoes made +no noise. I slipped up-stairs, through my own room, and into the shed +chamber. Girls, it lay so peaceful and bare in the white moonlight, +that for a moment I thought I must have dreamed it all. + +"It seemed half a mile to the farther end, where the great cedar +trunk stood. As I went a board creaked under my feet, and I +heard--or fancied I heard--a faint rustle inside the trunk. I began +to hum a tune, and moved about among the trunks, raising and +shutting the lids, as if I were looking for something. Now at last I +was beside the dreadful chest, and in another instant I had turned +the key. Then, girls, I flew! I knew the lock was a stout one and +the wood heavy and hard; it would take the man some time to get it +open from the inside, whatever tools he might have. I was +down-stairs in one breath, praying that I might be able to control my +voice so that it would not sound strange to the sick woman. + +"'Would you mind if I went out for a few minutes, Mrs. Bowles? The +moonlight is so lovely I thought I would like to take a little walk, +if there is nothing you want.' + +"She looked surprised, but said in her kind way, yes, certainly I +might go, only I'd better not go far. + +"I thanked her, and walked quietly out to the end of the garden walk; +then I ran! Girls, I had no idea I could run so! Strength seemed +given me, for I never felt my body. I was like a spirit flying or a +wind blowing. The road melted away before me, and all the time I saw +two things before my eyes as plain as I see you now,--the evil-faced +man working away at the lock of the cedar chest, and the sweet lady +sitting in the room below with her Bible on her knee. Yes, I thought +of the children, too, but it seemed to me no one, not even the +wickedest, could wish to hurt a child. So on I ran! + +"I reached the first house, but I knew there was no man there, only +two nervous old ladies. At the next house I should find two men, +George Brett and his father. + +"Yes, Lottie, my George, but I had never seen him then. He had only +lately come back from college. The first I saw of him was two +minutes later, when I ran almost into his arms as he came out of the +house. I can see him now, in the moonlight, tall and strong, with +his surprised eyes on me. I must have been a wild figure, I suppose. +I could hardly speak, but somehow I made him understand. + +"He turned back to the door and shouted to his father, who came +hurrying out; then he looked at me. 'Can you run back?' he asked. + +"I nodded. I had no breath for words but plenty for running, I +thought. + +"'Come on, then!' + +"Girls, it was twice as easy running with that strong figure beside +me. I noticed in all my hurry and distress how easily he ran, and I +felt my feet, that had grown heavy in the last few steps, light as +air again. Once I sobbed for breath, and he took my hand as we ran, +saying, 'Courage, brave girl!' We ran on hand in hand, and I never +failed again. We heard Mr. Brett's feet running, not far behind; he +was a strong, active man, but could not quite keep up with us. + +"As we neared the house, 'Quiet,' I said; 'Mrs. Bowles does not know.'" + +He nodded, and we slipped in at the back door. In an instant his +shoes were off and he was up the back stairs like a cat, and I after +him. As we entered the shed chamber the lid of the cedar trunk rose. + +I saw the gleam of the evil black eyes and the shine of white, +wolfish teeth. Without a sound George Brett sprang past me; without +a sound the robber leaped to meet him. I saw them in the white light +as they clinched and stood locked together; then a mist came before +my eyes and I saw nothing more. + +"I did not actually faint, I think; it cannot have been more than a +few minutes before I came to myself. But when I looked again George +was kneeling with his knee on the man's breast, holding him down, +and Father Brett was looking about the chamber and saying, in his +dry way, 'Now where in Tunkett is the clothes-line to tie this fellow?' + +"And the girl? Annie? O girls, she was so young! She was just my own +age and she had no mother. I went to see her the next day, and many +days after that. We are fast friends now, and she is a good, steady +girl; and no one knows--no one except our two selves and two +others--that she was ever in the shed chamber." + + + + +_MAINE TO THE RESCUE_ + + +"Oh, dear! oh, dear! It's snowing!" + +"Hurrah! hurrah! It's snowing!" + +Massachusetts looked up from her algebra. She was the head of the +school. She was rosy and placid as the apple she was generally +eating when not in class. Apples and algebra were the things she +cared most about in school life. + +"Whence come these varying cries?" she said, taking her feet off the +fender and trying to be interested, though her thoughts went on with +"a 1/6 b =" etc. + +"Oh, Virginia is grumbling because it is snowing, and Maine is +feeling happy over it, that's all!" said Rhode Island, the smallest +girl in Miss Wayland's school. + +"Poor Virginia! It is rather hard on you to have snow in March, when +you have just got your box of spring clothes from home." + +"It is atrocious!" said Virginia, a tall, graceful, languishing girl. +"How could they send me to such a place, where it is winter all the +spring? Why, at home the violets are in blossom, the trees are coming +out, the birds singing--" + +"And at home," broke in Maine, who was a tall girl, too, but lithe +and breezy as a young willow, with flyaway hair and dancing brown +eyes, "at home all is winter--white, beautiful, glorious winter, +with ice two or three feet thick on the rivers, and great fields and +fields of snow, all sparkling in the sun, and the sky a vast +sapphire overhead, without a speck. Oh, the glory of it, the +splendor of it! And here--here it is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor +good red herring. A wretched, makeshift season, which they call +winter because they don't know what else to call it." + +"Come! come!" said Old New York, who was seventeen years old and had +her own ideas of dignity. "Let us alone, you two outsiders! We are +neither Eskimos nor Hindoos, it is true, but the Empire State would +not change climates with either of you." + +"No, indeed!" chimed in Young New York, who always followed her +leader in everything, from opinions down to hair-ribbons. + +"No, indeed!" repeated Virginia, with languid scorn. "Because you +couldn't get any one to change with you, my dear." + +Young New York reddened. "You are so disagreeable, Virginia!" she +said. "I am sure I am glad I don't have to live with you all the +year round--" + +"Personal remarks!" said Massachusetts, looking up calmly. "One cent, +Young New York, for the missionary fund. Thank you! Let me give you +each half an apple, and you will feel better." + +She solemnly divided a large red apple, and gave the halves to the +two scowling girls, who took them, laughing in spite of themselves, +and went their separate ways. + +"Why didn't you let them have it out, Massachusetts?" said Maine, +laughing. "You never let any one have a good row." + +"Slang!" said Massachusetts, looking up again. "One cent for the +missionary fund. You will clothe the heathen at this rate, Maine. +That is the fourth cent to-day." + +"'Row' isn't slang!" protested Maine, feeling, however, for her +pocket-book. + +"Vulgar colloquial!" returned Massachusetts, quietly. "And perhaps +you would go away now, Maine, or else be quiet. Have you learned--" + +"No, I haven't!" said Maine. "I will do it very soon, dear Saint +Apple. I must look at the snow a little more." + +Maine went dancing off to her room, where she threw the window open +and looked out with delight. The girl caught up a double handful and +tossed it about, laughing for pure pleasure. Then she leaned out to +feel the beating of the flakes on her face. + +"Really quite a respectable little snowstorm!" she said, nodding +approval at the whirling white drift. "Go on, and you will be worth +while, my dear." She went singing to her algebra, which she could not +have done if it had not been snowing. + +The snow went on increasing from hour to hour. By noon the wind +began to rise; before night it was blowing a furious gale. Furious +blasts clutched at the windows, and rattled them like castanets. The +wind howled and shrieked and moaned, till it seemed as if the air +were filled with angry demons fighting to possess the square white +house. + +Many of the pupils of Miss Wayland's school came to the tea-table +with disturbed faces; but Massachusetts was as calm as usual, and +Maine was jubilant. + +"Isn't it a glorious storm?" she cried, exultingly. "I didn't know +there could be such a storm in this part of the country, Miss Wayland. +Will you give me some milk, please?" + +"There is no milk, my dear," said Miss Wayland, who looked rather +troubled. "The milkman has not come, and probably will not come +to-night. There has never been such a storm here in my lifetime!" +she added. "Do you have such storms at home, my dear?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" Maine said, cheerfully. "I don't know that we +often have so much wind as this, but the snow is nothing out of the +way. Why, on Palm Sunday last year our milkman dug through a drift +twenty feet deep to get at his cows. He was the only milkman who +ventured out, and he took me and the minister's wife to church in +his little red pung. + +"We were the only women in church, I remember. Miss Betsy Follansbee, +who had not missed going to church in fifteen years, started on foot, +after climbing out of her bedroom window to the shed roof and +sliding down. All her doors were blocked up, and she lived alone, so +there was no one to dig her out. But she got stuck in a drift about +half-way, and had to stay there till one of the neighbors came by +and pulled her out." + +All the girls laughed at this, and even Miss Wayland smiled; but +suddenly she looked grave again. + +"Hark!" she said, and listened. "Did you not hear something?" + +"We hear Boreas, Auster, Eurus, and Zephyrus," answered Old New York. +"Nothing else." + +At that moment there was a lull in the screeching of the wind; all +listened intently, and a faint sound was heard from without which +was not that of the blast. + +"A child!" said Massachusetts, rising quickly. "It is a child's voice. +I will go, Miss Wayland." + +"I cannot permit it, Alice!" cried Miss Wayland, in great distress. +"I cannot allow you to think of it. You are just recovering from a +severe cold, and I am responsible to your parents. What shall we do? +It certainly sounds like a child crying out in the pitiless storm. +Of course it _may_ be a cat--" + +Maine had gone to the window at the first alarm, and now turned with +shining eyes. + +"It _is_ a child!" she said, quietly. "I have no cold, Miss Wayland. +I am going, of course." + +Passing by Massachusetts, who had started out of her usual calm and +stood in some perplexity, she whispered, "If it were freezing, it +wouldn't cry. I shall be in time. Get a ball of stout twine." + +She disappeared. In three minutes she returned, dressed in her +blanket coat, reaching half-way below her knees, scarlet leggings +and gaily wrought moccasins; on her head a fur cap, with a band of +sea-otter fur projecting over her eyes. In her hand she held a pair +of snow-shoes. She had had no opportunity to wear her snow-shoeing +suit all winter, and she was quite delighted. + +"My child!" said Miss Wayland, faintly. "How can I let you go? My +duty to your parents--what are those strange things, and what use +are you going to make of them?" + +By way of answer Maine slipped her feet into the snow-shoes, and, +with Massachusetts' aid, quickly fastened the thongs. + +"The twine!" she said. "Yes, that will do; plenty of it. Tie it to +the door-handle, square knot, so! I'm all right, dear; don't worry." +Like a flash the girl was gone out into the howling night. + +Miss Wayland wrung her hands and wept, and most of the girls wept +with her. Virginia, who was curled up in a corner, really sick with +fright, beckoned to Massachusetts. + +"Is there any chance of her coming back alive?" she asked, in a +whisper. "I wish I had made up with her. But we may all die in this +awful storm." + +"Nonsense!" said Massachusetts. "Try to have a little sense, Virginia! +Maine is all right, and can take care of herself; and as for +whimpering at the wind, when you have a good roof over your head, it +is too absurd." + +For the first time since she came to school Massachusetts forgot the +study hour, as did every one else; and in spite of her brave efforts +at cheerful conversation, it was a sad and an anxious group that sat +about the fire in the pleasant parlor. + +Maine went out quickly, and closed the door behind her; then stood +still a moment, listening for the direction of the cry. She did not +hear it at first, but presently it broke out--a piteous little wail, +sounding louder now in the open air. The girl bent her head to listen. +Where was the child? The voice came from the right, surely! She +would make her way down to the road, and then she could tell better. + +Grasping the ball of twine firmly, she stepped forward, planting the +broad snow-shoes lightly in the soft, dry snow. As she turned the +corner of the house an icy blast caught her, as if with furious hands, +shook her like a leaf, and flung her roughly against the wall. + +Her forehead struck the corner, and for a moment she was stunned; +but the blood trickling down her face quickly brought her to herself. +She set her teeth, folded her arms tightly, and stooping forward, +measured her strength once more with that of the gale. + +This time it seemed as if she were cleaving a wall of ice, which +opened only to close behind her. On she struggled, unrolling her +twine as she went. + +The child's cry sounded louder, and she took fresh heart. Pausing, +she clapped her hand to her mouth repeatedly, uttering a shrill, +long call. It was the Indian whoop, which her father had taught her +in their woodland rambles at home. + +The childish wail stopped; she repeated the cry louder and longer; +then shouted, at the top of her lungs, "Hold on! Help is coming!" + +Again and again the wind buffeted her, and forced her backward a +step or two; but she lowered her head, and wrapped her arms more +tightly about her body, and plodded on. + +Once she fell, stumbling over a stump; twice she ran against a tree, +for the white darkness was absolutely blinding, and she saw nothing, +felt nothing but snow, snow. At last her snow-shoe struck something +hard. She stretched out her hands--it was the stone wall. And now, +as she crept along beside it, the child's wail broke out again close +at hand. + +"Mother! O mother! mother!" + +The girl's heart beat fast. + +"Where are you?" she cried. At the same moment she stumbled against +something soft. A mound of snow, was it? No! for it moved. It moved +and cried, and little hands clutched her dress. + +She saw nothing, but put her hands down, and touched a little cold +face. She dragged the child out of the snow, which had almost +covered it, and set it on its feet. + +"Who are you?" she asked, putting her face down close, while by +vigorous patting and rubbing she tried to give life to the benumbed, +cowering little figure, which staggered along helplessly, clutching +her with half-frozen fingers. + +"Benny Withers!" sobbed the child. "Mother sent me for the clothes, +but I can't get 'em!" + +"Benny Withers!" cried Maine. "Why, you live close by. Why didn't +you go home, child?" + +"I can't!" cried the boy. "I can't see nothing. I tried to get to +the school, an' I tried to get home, an' I can't get nowhere 'cept +against this wall. Let me stay here now! I want to rest me a little." + +He would have sunk down again, but Maine caught him up in her strong, +young arms. + +"Here, climb up on my back, Benny!" she said, cheerfully. "Hold on +tight round my neck, and you shall rest while I take you home. So! +That's a brave boy! Upsy, now! there you are! Now put your head on +my shoulder--close! and hold on!" + +Ah! how Maine blessed the heavy little brother at home, who _would_ +ride on his sister's back, long after mamma said he was too big. How +she blessed the carryings up and down stairs, the "horsey rides" +through the garden and down the lane, which had made her shoulders +strong! + +Benny Withers was eight years old, but he was small and slender, and +no heavier than six-year-old Philip. No need of telling the child to +hold on, once he was up out of the cruel snow bed. He clung +desperately round the girl's neck, and pressed his head close +against the woollen stuff. + +Maine pulled her ball of twine from her pocket--fortunately it was a +large one, and the twine, though strong, was fine, so that there +seemed to be no end to it--and once more lowered her head, and set +her teeth, and moved forward, keeping close to the wall, in the +direction of Mrs. Withers's cottage. + +For awhile she saw nothing, when she looked up under the fringe of +otter fur, which, long and soft, kept the snow from blinding her; +nothing but the white, whirling drift which beat with icy, stinging +blows in her face. But at last her eyes caught a faint glimmer of +light, and presently a brighter gleam showed her Mrs. Withers's gray +cottage, now white like the rest of the world. + +Bursting open the cottage door, she almost threw the child into the +arms of his mother. + +The woman, who had been weeping wildly, could hardly believe her eyes. +She caught the little boy and smothered him with kisses, chafing his +cold hands, and crying over him. + +"I didn't know!" she said. "I didn't know till he was gone. I told +him at noon he was to go, never thinking 'twould be like this. I was +sure he was lost and dead, but I couldn't leave my sick baby. Bless +you, whoever you are, man or woman! But stay and get warm, and rest +ye! You're never going out again in this awful storm!" + +But Maine was gone. + +In Miss Wayland's parlor the suspense was fast becoming unendurable. +They had heard Maine's Indian whoop, and some of them, Miss Wayland +herself among the number, thought it was a cry of distress; but +Massachusetts rightly interpreted the call, and assured them that it +was a call of encouragement to the bewildered child. + +Then came silence within the house, and a prolonged clamor--a sort +of witches' chorus, with wailing and shrieking without. Once a heavy +branch was torn from one of the great elms, and came thundering down +on the roof. This proved the finishing touch for poor Virginia. She +went into violent hysterics, and was carried off to bed by Miss Way +land and Old New York. + +Massachusetts presently ventured to explore a little. She hastened +through the hall to the front door, opened it a few inches, and put +her hand on the twine which was fastened to the handle. What was her +horror to find that it hung loose, swinging idly in the wind! Sick +at heart, she shut the door, and pressing her hands over her eyes, +tried to think. + +Maine must be lost in the howling storm! She must find her; but +where and how? + +Oh! if Miss Wayland had only let her go at first! She was older; it +would not have mattered so much. + +But now, quick! she would wrap herself warmly, and slip out without +any one knowing. + +The girl was turning to fly up-stairs, when suddenly something fell +heavily against the door outside. There was a fumbling for the handle; +the next moment it flew open, and something white stumbled into the +hall, shut the door, and sat down heavily on the floor. + +"Personal--rudeness!" gasped Maine, struggling for breath. "You shut +the door in my face! One cent for the missionary fund." + +The great storm was over. The sun came up, and looked down on a +strange, white world. No fences, no walls; only a smooth ridge where +one of these had been. Trees which the day before had been quite +tall now looked like dwarfs, spreading their broad arms not far from +the snow carpet beneath them. Road there was none; all was smooth, +save where some huge drift nodded its crest like a billow curling +for its downward rush. + +Maine, spite of her scarred face, which showed as many patches as +that of a court lady in King George's times, was jubilant. Tired! +not a bit of it! A little stiff, just enough to need "limbering out," +as they said at home. + +"There is no butter!" she announced at breakfast. "There is no milk, +no meat for dinner. Therefore, I go a-snow-shoeing. Dear Miss Wayland, +let me go! I have learned my algebra, and I shall be discovering +unknown quantities at every step, which will be just as instructive." + +Miss Wayland could refuse nothing to the heroine of last night's +adventure. Behold Maine, therefore, triumphant, sallying forth, clad +once more in her blanket suit, and dragging her sled behind her. + +There was no struggling now--no hand-to-hand wrestling with +storm-demons. The sun laughed from a sky as blue and deep as her own +sky of Maine, and the girl laughed with him as she walked along, the +powdery snow flying in a cloud from her snow-shoes at every step. + +Such a sight had never been seen in Mentor village before. The +people came running to their upper windows--their lower ones were +for the most part buried in snow--and stared with all their eyes at +the strange apparition. + +In the street, life was beginning to stir. People had found, +somewhat to their own surprise, that they were alive and well after +the blizzard; and knots of men were clustered here and there, +discussing the storm, while some were already at work tunnelling +through the drifts. + +Mr. Perkins, the butcher, had just got his door open, and great was +his amazement when Maine hailed him from the top of a great drift, +and demanded a quarter of mutton with some soup meat. + +[Illustration: "MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT."] + +"Yes, miss!" he stammered, open-mouthed with astonishment. "I--I've +got the meat; but I wasn't--my team isn't out this morning. I don't +know about sending it." + +"I have a 'team' here!" said Maine, quietly, pulling her sled +alongside. "Give me the mutton, Mr. Perkins; you may charge it to +Miss Wayland, please, and I will take it home." + +The butter-man and the grocer were visited in the same way, and Maine, +rather embarrassed by the concentrated observation of the whole +village, turned to pull her laden sled back, when suddenly a window +was thrown open, and a voice exclaimed: + +"Young woman! I will give you ten dollars for the use of those +snow-shoes for an hour!" + +Maine looked up in amazement, and laughed merrily when she saw the +well-known countenance of the village doctor. + +"What! You, my dear young lady?" cried the good man. "This is 'Maine +to the Rescue,' indeed! I might have known it was you. But I repeat +my offer. Make it anything you please, only let me have the +snow-shoes. I cannot get a horse out, and have two patients +dangerously ill. What is your price for the magic shoes?" + +"My price, doctor?" repeated Maine, looking up with dancing eyes. +"My price is--one cent. For the Missionary Fund! The snow-shoes are +yours, and I will get home somehow with my sled and the mutton." + +So she did, and Doctor Fowler made his calls with the snow-shoes, +and saved a life, and brought cheer and comfort to many. But it was +ten dollars, and not one cent, which he gave to the Missionary Fund. + + + + +THE SCARLET LEAVES + + +"The Committee will please come to order!" said Maine. + +"What's up?" asked Massachusetts, pausing in her occupation of +peeling chestnuts. + +"Why, you know well enough, Massachusetts. Here it is Wednesday, and +we don't know yet what we are going to do on Friday evening. We must +do something, or go shamed to our graves. Never a senior class has +missed its Frivolous Friday, since the school began." + +"Absolutely no hope of the play?" + +"None! Alma's part is too important; no one could possibly take it +at two days' notice. Unless--they say Chicago has a real gift for +acting; but somehow, I don't feel as if she were the person." + +"I should bar that, positively," put in Tennessee. "In the first +place, Chicago has not been here long enough to be identified with +the class. She is clever, of course, or she could not have entered +junior last year; but--well, it isn't necessary to say anything more; +she is out of the question." + +"It is too exasperating!" said Massachusetts. "Alma might have +waited another week before coming down with measles." + +"It's harder for her than for any one else, Massachusetts," said +Maine. "Poor dear; she almost cried her eyes out yesterday, when the +spots appeared, and there was no more doubt." + +"Yes, I know that; she is a poor, unfortunate Lamb, and I love her, +you know I do; still, a growl may be permitted, Maine. There's +nothing criminal in a growl. The question is, as you were saying, +what shall we do?" + +"A dance?" + +"We had a dance last week!" said Maine; "at least the sophomores did, +and we don't want to copy them." + +"A straw-ride?" + +"A candy-pull?" + +"A concert?" + +"The real question is," said Tennessee, cracking her chestnut +leisurely, "what does Maine intend to do? If she thinks we made her +Class President because we meant to arrange things ourselves, she is +more ignorant than I supposed her. Probably she has the whole thing +settled in her Napoleonic mind. Out with it, Moosetocmaguntic!" + +Maine smiled, and looked round her. The Committee was clustered in a +group at the foot of a great chestnut-tree, at the very edge of a +wood. The leaves were still thick on the trees, and the October sun +shone through their golden masses, pouring a flood of warmth and +light down on the greensward, sprinkled with yellow leaves and +half-open chestnut burrs. Massachusetts and Tennessee, sturdy and +four-square as their own hills; Old New York and New Jersey, and +Maine herself, a tall girl with clear, kind eyes, and a color that +came and went as she talked. This was the Committee. + +[Illustration: THE CONFERENCE.] + +"Well," said Maine, modestly. "I did have an idea, girls. I don't +know whether you will approve or not, but--what do you say to a +fancy ball?" + +"A fancy ball! at two days' notice!" + +"Penobscot is losing her mind. Pity to see it shattered, for it was +once a fine organ." + +"Be quiet, Tennessee! I don't mean anything elaborate, of course. +But I thought we might have an informal frolic, and dress up in--oh, +anything we happened to have. Not call it a dance, but have dancing +all the same; don't you see? There are all kinds of costumes that +can be got up with very little trouble, and no expense to speak of." + +"For example!" said Massachusetts. "She has it all arranged, girls; +all we have to do is to sit back and let wisdom flow in our ears." + +"Massachusetts, if you tease me any more, _I'll_ sit back, and let +you do it all yourself. Well, then--let me see! Tennessee--to tell +the truth, I didn't sleep very well last night; my head ached; and I +amused myself by planning a few costumes, just in case you should +fancy the idea." + +"Quack! quack!" said Massachusetts. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but +you _are_ a duck, and I must just show that I can speak your language. +Go on!" + +"Tennessee, I thought you might be an Indian. You must have something +that will show your hair. With my striped shawl for a blanket, and +the cock's feather out of Jersey's hat--what do you think?" + +"Perfect!" said Tennessee. "And I can try effects with my new +paint-box, one cheek stripes, the other spots. Hurrah! next!" + +"Old New York, you must be a flower of some kind. Or--why not a +basket of flowers? You could have a basket-work bodice, don't you see? +and flowers coming out of it all round your neck--your neck is so +pretty, you ought to show it--" + +"Or carrots and turnips!" said the irrepressible Massachusetts. +"Call her a Harvest Hamper, and braid her lovely locks with strings +of onions!" + +"Thank you," laughed Old New York, a slender girl whose flower-like +beauty made her a pleasure to look at. "I think I'll keep to the posy, +Massachusetts. Go on, Maine! what shall Massachusetts be, and what +will you be yourself?" + +"Massachusetts ought by rights to be an apple, a nice fat rosy apple; +but I don't quite know how that can be managed." + +"Then I shall be a codfish!" said Massachusetts, decidedly. +"I am not going to desert Mr. Micawber--I mean the Bay State. I +shall go as a salt codfish. _Dixi_! Pass on to the Pine-Tree!" + +"Why, so I might be a pine-tree! I didn't think of that. But still, +I don't think I will; I meant to be October. The leaves at home are +so glorious in October, and I saw some scarlet leaves yesterday that +will be lovely for chaplets and garlands." + +"What are they? the maples don't turn red here--too near the sea, I +suppose." + +"I don't know what they are. Pointed leaves, rather long and delicate, +and the most splendid color you ever saw. There is just this one +little tree, near the crossroad by the old stone house. I haven't +seen anything like it about here. I found it yesterday, and just +stood and looked at it, it was so beautiful. Yes, I shall be October; +I'll decide on that. What's that rustling in the wood? aren't we all +here? I thought I heard something moving among the trees. I do +believe some one is in there, Massachusetts." + +"I was pulling down a branch; don't be imaginative, my dear. Well, +go on! are we to make out all the characters?" + +"Why--I thought not. Some of the girls will like better to choose +their own, don't you think? I thought we, as the Committee, might +make out a list of suggestions, though, and then they can do as they +please. But now, I wish some of you others would suggest something; +I don't want to do it all." + +"Daisy will have to be her namesake, of course," said Tennessee. + +"Jersey can be a mosquito," said Old New York; "she's just the +figure for it." + +"Thank you!" said Jersey, who weighed ninety pounds. "Going on that +theory, Pennsylvania ought to go as an elephant, and Rhode Island as +a giraffe." + +"And Chicago as a snake--no! I didn't mean that!" cried Maine. + +"You said it! you said it!" cried several voices, in triumph. + +"The Charitable Organ has called names at last!" said Jersey, +laughing. "And she has hit it exactly. Now, Maine, what is the use +of looking pained? the girl _is_ a snake--or a sneak, which amounts +to the same thing. Let us have truth, I say, at all hazards." + +"I am sorry!" said Maine, simply. "I am not fond of Chicago, and +that is the very reason why I should not call her names behind her +back. It slipped out before I knew it; I am sorry and ashamed, and +that is all there is to say. And now, suppose we go home, and tell +the other girls about the party." + +The Committee trooped off across the hill, laughing and talking, +Maine alone grave and silent. As their voices died away, the ferns +nodded beside a great pine-tree that stood just within the border of +the wood, not six yards from where they had been sitting. A slender +dark girl rose from the fern-clump in which she had been crouching, +and shook the pine-needles from her dress. Very cautiously she +parted the screen of leaves, and looked after the retreating girls. + +"That was worth while!" she said; and her voice, though quiet, was +full of ugly meaning. "Snakes can hear, Miss Oracle, and bite, too. +We'll see about those scarlet leaves!" + + + + +PART II + + + "Tra la, tra lee, + I want my tea!" + +Sang Tennessee, as she ran up-stairs. "Oh, Maine, is that you? my +dear, my costume is simply too perfect for anything. I've been out +in the woods, practising my war-whoop. Three yelps and a screech; I +flatter myself it is the _most_ blood-curdling screech you ever heard. +I'm going to have a dress-rehearsal now, all by myself. Come and +see--why, what's the matter, Maine? something is wrong with you. +What is it?" + +"Oh! nothing serious," said Maine, trying to speak lightly. +"I must get up another costume, that's all, and there isn't much time." + +"Why! what has happened?" + +"The scarlet leaves are gone." + +"Gone! fallen, do you mean?" + +"No! some one has cut or broken every branch. There is not one left. +The leaves made the whole costume, you see; it amounts to nothing +without them, merely a yellow gown." + +"Oh! my dear, what a shame! Who could have taken them?" + +"I cannot imagine. I thought I would get them to-day, and keep them +in water over night, so as to have them all ready to-morrow. Oh, well, +it can't be helped. I can call myself a sunflower, or Black-eyed +Susan, or some other yellow thing. It's absurd to mind, of course, +only--" + +"Only, being human, you do mind," said Tennessee, putting her arm +round her friend's waist. "I should think so, dear. We don't care +about having you canonized just yet. But, Maine, there must be more +red leaves somewhere. This comes of living near the sea. Now, in my +mountains, or in your woods, we could just go out and fill our arms +with glory in five minutes, whichever way we turned. These murmuring +pines and--well, I don't know that there are any hemlocks--are all +very splendid, and no one loves them better than I do; but for a +Harvest festival decoration, '_Ils ne sont pas là dedans_,' as the +French have it." + +"Slang, Tennessee! one cent!" + +"On the contrary; foreign language, mark of commendation. + +"But come now, and see my war-dance. I didn't mean to let any one +see it before-hand, but you are a dear old thing, and you shall. And +then, we can take counsel about your costume. Not that I have the +smallest anxiety about that; I've no doubt you have thought of +something pretty already. I don't see how you do it. When any one +says 'Clothes' to me, I never can think of anything but red flannel +petticoats, if you will excuse my mentioning the article. I think +Black-eyed Susan sounds delightful. How would you dress for it? you +have the pretty yellow dress all ready." + +"I should put brown velveteen with it. I have quite a piece left +over from my blouse. I'll get some yellow crêpe paper, and make a hat, +or cap, with a brown crown, you know, and yellow petals for the brim; +and have a brown bodice laced together over the full yellow waist, +and--" + +The two girls passed on, talking cheerfully--it is always soothing +to talk about pretty clothes, especially when one is as clever as +Maine was, and can make, as Massachusetts used to say, a court train +out of a jack-towel. + +A few minutes after, Massachusetts came along the same corridor, and +tapped at another door. Hearing "Come in!" she opened the door and +looked in. + +"Busy, Chicago? beg pardon! Miss Cram asked me, as I was going by, to +show you the geometry lesson, as you were not in class yesterday." + +"Thanks! come in, won't you?" said Chicago, rising ungraciously from +her desk, "I was going to ask Miss Cram, of course, but I'm much +obliged." + +Massachusetts pointed out the lesson briefly, and turned to go, when +her eyes fell on a jar set on the ground, behind the door. + +"Hallo!" she said, abruptly. "You've got scarlet leaves, too. Where +did you get them?" + +"I found them," said Chicago, coldly. "They were growing wild, on +the public highway. I had a perfect right to pick them." + +There was a defiant note in her voice, and Massachusetts looked at +her with surprise. The girl's eyes glittered with an uneasy light, +and her dark cheek was flushed. + +"I don't question your right," said Massachusetts, bluntly, +"but I do question your sense. I may be mistaken, but I don't +believe those leaves are very good to handle. They look to me +uncommonly like dogwood. I'm not sure; but if I were you, I would +show them to Miss Flower before I touched them again." + +She nodded and went out, dismissing the matter from her busy mind. + +"Spiteful!" said Chicago, looking after her sullenly. + +"She suspects where I got the leaves, and thinks she can frighten me +out of wearing them. I never saw such a hateful set of girls as +there are in this school. Never mind, sweet creatures! The 'snake' +has got the scarlet leaves, and she knows when she has got a good +thing." + +She took some of the leaves from the jar, and held them against her +black hair. They were brilliantly beautiful, and became her well. +She looked in the glass and nodded, well pleased with what she saw +there; then she carefully clipped the ends of the branches, and put +fresh water in the jar before replacing them. + +"Indian Summer will take the shine out of Black-eyed Susan, I'm +afraid," she said to herself. "Poor Susan, I am sorry for her." She +laughed; it was not a pleasant laugh; and went back to her books. + + + + +PART III. + + +"What a pretty sight!" + +It was Miss Wayland who spoke. She and the other teachers were +seated on the raised platform at the end of the gymnasium. The long +room was wreathed with garlands and brilliantly lighted, and they +were watching the girls as they flitted by in their gay dresses, to +the waltz that good Miss Flower was playing. + +"How ingenious the children are!" Miss Wayland continued. "Look at +Virginia there, as Queen Elizabeth! Her train is my old party cloak +turned inside out, and her petticoat--you recognize that?" + +"I, not!" said Mademoiselle, peering forward. "I am too near of my +sight. What ees it?" + +"The piano cover. That Persian silk, you know, that my brother sent +me. I never knew how handsome it was before. The ruff, and those +wonderful puffed sleeves, are mosquito-netting; the whole effect is +superb--at a little distance." + +"I thought Virginie not suffeeciently clayver for to effect zis!" +said Mademoiselle. "Of custome, she shows not--what do you +say?--invention." + +"Oh, she simply wears the costume, with her own peculiar little air +of dignity. Maine designed it. Maine is costumer in chief. The +Valiant Three, Maine, Massachusetts, and Tennessee, took all the +unpractical girls in hand, and simply--dressed them. _Entre nous_, +Mademoiselle, I wish, in some cases, that they would do it every day." + +"_Et moi aussi_!" exclaimed Mademoiselle, nodding eagerly. + +"Maine herself is lovely," said Miss Cram. "I think hers is really +the prettiest costume in the room; all that soft brown and yellow is +really charming, and suits her to perfection." + +"Yes; and I am so glad of it, for the child was sadly disappointed +about some other costume she had planned, and got this up almost at +the last moment. She is a clever child, and a good one. Do look at +Massachusetts! Massachusetts, my dear child, what do you call +yourself? you are a most singular figure." + +"The Codfish, Miss Wayland; straight from Boston State-House. Admire +my tail, please! I got up at five o'clock this morning to finish it, +and I must confess I am proud of it." + +She napped her tail, which was a truly astonishing one, made of +newspapers neatly plaited and sewed together, and wriggled her body, +clad in well-fitting scales of silver paper. "Quite a fish, I +flatter myself?" she said, insinuatingly. + +"Very like a whale, if not like a codfish," said Miss Wayland, +laughing heartily. "You certainly are one of the successes of the +evening, Massachusetts, and the Mosquito is another, in that filmy +gray. Is that mosquito-netting, too? I congratulate you both on your +skill. By the way, what does Chicago represent? she is very effective, +with all those scarlet leaves. What are they, I wonder!" + +Massachusetts turned hastily, and a low whistle came from her lips. +"Whew! I beg pardon, Miss Wayland. It was the codfish whistled, not I; +it's a way they have on Friday evenings. I told that girl to ask +Miss Flower about those leaves; I am afraid they are--oh, here is +Miss Flower!" as the good botany teacher came towards them, rather +out of breath after her playing. + +"Miss Flower, what are those leaves, please? those in Chicago's hair, +and on her dress." + +Miss Flower looked, and her cheerful face grew grave. + +"_Rhus veneneta_" she said; "poison dogwood." + +"I was afraid so!" said Massachusetts. "I told her yesterday that I +thought they were dogwood, and advised her to show them to you +before she touched them again." + +"Poor child!" said kind Miss Flower. "She has them all about her +face and neck, too. We must get them off at once." + +She was starting forward, but Miss Wayland detained her. + +"The mischief is done now, is it not?" she said. "And after all, +dogwood does not poison every one. I have had it in my hands, and +never got the smallest injury. Suppose we let her have her evening, +at least till after supper, which will be ready now in a few minutes. +If she is affected by the poison, this is her last taste of the +Harvest Festivities." + +They watched the girl. She was receiving compliments on her striking +costume, from one girl and another, and was in high spirits. She +glanced triumphantly about her, her eyes lighting up when they fell +on Maine in her yellow dress. She certainly looked brilliantly +handsome, the flaming scarlet of the leaves setting off her dark +skin and flashing eyes to perfection. + +Presently she put her hand up to her cheek, and held it there a +moment. + +"Aha!" said Massachusetts, aloud. "She's in for it!" + +"In for what?" said Maine, who came up at that moment. Following the +direction of Massachusetts' eyes, she drew her apart, and spoke in a +low tone. "I shall not say anything, Massachusetts, and I hope you +will not. Don't you know?" she added, seeing her friend's look of +inquiry. "Those are my scarlet leaves." + +"No!" + +"Yes. I have found out all about it. Daisy lingered behind the rest +of us the other day, when I had been telling you all about the leaves, +to pick blackberries. She saw Chicago come out of the wood a few +minutes after we left, looking black as thunder. Don't you remember, +I thought I heard a rustling in the fern, and you laughed at me? She +was hidden there, and heard every word we said. Next day the leaves +were gone, and now they are on Chicago's dress instead of mine." + +"And a far better place for them!" exclaimed Massachusetts, +"though I am awfully sorry for her. Oh! you lucky, lucky girl! and +you dear, precious, stupid ignoramus, not to know poison dogwood +when you see it." + +"Poison dogwood! those beautiful leaves!" + +"Those beautiful leaves. That young woman is in for about two weeks +of as pretty a torture as ever Inquisitor or Iroquois could devise. +I know all about it, though there was a time when I also was ignorant. +Look! she is feeling of her cheek already; it begins to sting. +Tomorrow she will be all over patches, red and white; itching--there +is nothing to describe the itching. It is beyond words. Next day her +face will begin to swell, and in two days more--the School Birthday, +my dear--she will be like nothing human, a mere shapeless lump of +pain and horror. She will not sleep by night or rest by day. She +will go home to her parents, and they will not know her, but will +think we have sent them a smallpox patient by mistake. Her eyes--" + +"Oh, hush! hush, Massachusetts!" cried Maine. "Oh! poor thing! poor +thing! what shall I do? I feel as if it were all my fault, somehow." + +"Your fault that she sneaked and eavesdropped, and then stole your +decoration? Oh! come, Maine, don't be fantastic!" + +"No, Massachusetts, I don't mean that. But if I had only known, +myself, what they were, I should never have spoken of them, and all +this would never have happened." + +"The moral of which is, study botany!" said Massachusetts. + +"I'll begin to-morrow!" said Maine. + + * * * * * + +"And what is to be the end of the dogwood story, I wonder!" said +Tennessee, meeting Massachusetts in a breathless interval between +two exercises on the School Birthday, the crowning event of the +Harvest Festivities at Miss Wayland's. "Have you heard the last +chapter?" + +"No! what is it?" + +"Maine is in a dark room with the moaning Thing that was Chicago, +singing to her, and telling her about the speeches and things last +night. She vows she will not come out again to-day, just because she +was at chapel and heard the singing this morning; says that was the +best of it, and she doesn't care much about dancing. Maine! and +Miss Wayland will not let us break in the door and carry her off +bodily; says she will be happier where she is, and will always be +glad of this day. I'll tell you what it is, Massachusetts, if this +is the New England conscience I hear so much about, I'm precious +glad I was born in Tennessee." + +"No, you aren't, Old One! you wish you had been born in Maine." + +"Well, perhaps I do!" said Tennessee. + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Green Satin Gown, by Laura E. 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Richards + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Green Satin Gown + +Author: Laura E. Richards + +Illustrator: Etheldred B. Barry + +Posting Date: August 30, 2012 [EBook #9397] +Release Date: November, 2005 +First Posted: September 29, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREEN SATIN GOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Robert Prince and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<center> +<h1>THE GREEN SATIN GOWN</h1> +<br><br> +<h2>BY LAURA E. RICHARDS</h2> +<br><br> +<h4><i>Author of</i><br> "Captain January," "Melody," "Three Margarets,"<br> +"Peggy," "Queen Hildegarde," etc., etc.</h4> +<br><br> +<h2> +Illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry</h2> + +<br><br><br><br> + + + +<h2>1903</h2> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<p><i> +TO <br> +THE GIRLS OF <br> +The Friday Club of Gardiner, Maine <br> +THIS VOLUME <br> +IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED</i></p> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<a name="frontis"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="wfrontis.jpg (133K)" src="images/wfrontis.jpg" height="1079" width="672"> +</center> +<br><br> +<br><br> + + +<h2> +CONTENTS</h2> + +<p> +<a href="#green">THE GREEN SATIN GOWN</a></p> + +<p><a href="#egypt">BLUE EGYPTIANS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#ben">LITTLE BENJAMIN</a></p> + +<p><a href="#alonzo">DON ALONZO</a></p> + +<p><a href="#shed">THE SHED CHAMBER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#maine">MAINE TO THE RESCUE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#scarlet">THE SCARLET LEAVES</a></p> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<h2> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<p> +"<a href="#frontis">THE FIRST TITTER PUT A FIRE IN MY VEINS THAT KEPT ME WARM ALL THE + EVENING</a>"</p> + +<p><a href="#sleeve">"GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP AGAIN"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#white">"'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; AND—IT'S CRYING!'"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#father">"'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#drift">"MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#conference">THE CONFERENCE</a></p> + +<br><br> +<a name="green"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN</h2> +</center> +<br> +<p> +Who ever wore such a queer-looking thing? I wore it myself, dear, +once upon a time; yes, I did! Perhaps you would like to hear about it, +while you mend that tear in your muslin. Sit down, then, and let us +be cosy.</p> + +<p>I was making a visit in Hillton once, when I was seventeen years old, +just your age; staying with dear old Miss Persis Elderby, who is now +dead. I have told you about her, and it is strange that I have never +told you the story of the green satin gown; but, indeed, it is years +since I looked at it. We were great friends, Miss Persis and I; and +we never thought much about the difference in our ages, for she was +young for her years, and I was old for mine. In our daily walk +through the pretty, sleepy Hillton street—we always went for the +mail, together, for though Miss Persis seldom received letters, she +always liked to see mine, and it was quite the event of the day—my +good friend seldom failed to point out to me a stately mansion that +stood by itself on a little height, and to say in a tone of pride, +"The Le Baron place, my dear; the finest place in the county. Madam +Le Baron, who lives there alone now, is as great a lady as any in +Europe, though she wears no coronet to her name."</p> + +<p>I never knew exactly what Miss Persis meant by this last remark, but +it sounded magnificent, and I always gazed respectfully at the gray +stone house which sheltered so grand a personage. Madam Le Baron, it +appeared, never left the house in winter, and this was January. Her +friends called on her at stated intervals, and, to judge from +Miss Persis, never failed to come away in a state of reverential +enthusiasm. I could not help picturing to myself the great lady as +about six feet tall, clad in purple velvet, and waving a +peacock-feather fan; but I never confided my imaginings even to the +sympathetic Miss Persis.</p> + +<p>One day my friend returned from a visit to the stone house, quite +breathless, her pretty old face pink with excitement. She sat down +on the chair nearest the door, and gazed at me with, speechless +emotion.</p> + +<p>"Dear Miss Persis!" I cried. "What has happened? Have you had bad +news?"</p> + +<p>Miss Persis shook her head. "Bad news? I should think not, indeed! +Child, Madam Le Baron wishes to see you. More I cannot say at present. +Not a word! Put on your best hat, and come with me. Madam Le Baron +waits for us!"</p> + +<p>It was as if she had said, "The Sultan is on the front door-step." I +flew up-stairs, and made myself as smart as I could in such a hurry. +My cheeks were as pink as Miss Persis's own, and though I had not +the faintest idea what was the matter, I felt that it must be +something of vital import. On the way, I begged my companion to +explain matters to me, but she only shook her head and trotted on the +faster. "No time!" she panted. "Speech delays me, my dear! All will +be explained; only make haste."</p> + +<p>We made such haste, that by the time we rang at the door of the +stone house neither of us could speak, and Miss Persis could only +make a mute gesture to the dignified maid who opened the door, and +who looked amazed, as well she might, at our burning cheeks and +disordered appearance. Fortunately, she knew Miss Persis well, and +lost no time in ushering us into a cool, dimly lighted parlor, hung +with family portraits. Here we sat, and fanned ourselves with our +pocket-handkerchiefs, while I tried to find breath for a question; +but there was not time! A door opened at the further end of the room; +there was a soft rustle, a smell of sandal-wood in the air. The next +moment Madam Le Baron stood before us. A slender figure, about my +own height, in a quaint, old-fashioned dress; snowy hair, arranged +in puff on puff, with exquisite nicety; the darkest, softest eyes I +ever saw, and a general air of having left her crown in the next room; +this was the great lady.</p> + +<p>We rose, and I made my best courtesy,—we courtesied then, my dear, +instead of bowing like pump-handles,—and she spoke to us in a soft +old voice, that rustled like the silk she wore, though it had a clear +sound, too. "So this is the child!" she said. "I trust you are very +well, my dear! And has Miss Elderby told you of the small particular +in which you can oblige me?"</p> + +<p>Miss Persis hastened to say that she wasted no time on explanations, +but had brought me as quickly as might be, thinking that the main +thing. Madam Le Baron nodded, and smiled a little; then she turned +to me; a few quiet words, and I knew all about it. She had received +that morning a note from her grandniece, "a young and giddy person," +who lived in B——, some twenty miles away, announcing that she and +a party of friends were about to drive over to Hillton to see the +old house. She felt sure that her dear aunt would be enchanted to +see them, as it must be "quite too forlorn for her, all alone in +that great barn;" so she might expect them the next evening (that is, +the evening of this very day), in time for supper, and no doubt as +hungry as hunters. There would be about a dozen of them, probably, +but she knew there was plenty of room at Birchwood, and it would be +a good thing to fill up the empty rooms for once in a way; so, +looking forward to a pleasant meeting, the writer remained her +dearest aunt's "affectionate niece, Effie Gay."</p> + +<p>"The child has no mother," said Madam Le Baron to Miss Persis; then +turning to me, she said: "I am alone, save for my two maids, who are +of middle age, and not accustomed to youthful visitors. Learning +from my good friend, Miss Elderby, that a young gentlewoman was +staying at her house, I conceived the idea of asking you to spend +the night with me, and such portion of the next day as my guests may +remain. If you are willing to do me this service, my dear, you may +put off your bonnet, and I will send for your evening dress and your +toilet necessaries."</p> + +<p>I had been listening in a dream, hearing what was said, but thinking +it all like a fairy story, chiefly impressed by the fact that the +speaker was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. +The last sentence, however, brought me to my senses with a vengeance. +With scarlet cheeks I explained that I had brought no evening dress +with me; that I lived a very quiet life at home, and had expected +nothing different here; that, to be quite frank, I had not such a +thing as an evening dress in the world. Miss Persis turned pale with +distress and mortification; but Madam Le Baron looked at me quietly, +with her lovely smile.</p> + +<p>"I will provide you with a suitable dress, my child," she said. +"I have something that will do very well for you. If you like to go +to your room now, my maid will attend you, and bring what is +necessary. We expect our guests in time for supper, at eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>Decidedly, I had walked into a fairy tale, or else I was dreaming! +Here I sat in a room hung with flowered damask, in a wonderful chair, +by a wonderful fire; and a fairy, little and withered and brown, +dressed in what I knew must be black bombazine, though I knew it +only from descriptions, was bringing me tea, and plum-cake, on a +silver tray. She looked at me with kind, twinkling eyes, and said +she would bring the dress at once; then left me to my own wondering +fancies. I hardly knew what to be thinking of, so much was happening: +more, it seemed, in these few hours, than in all my life before. I +tried to fix my mind on the gay party that would soon fill the silent +house with life and tumult; I tried to fancy how Miss Effie Gay +would look, and what she would say to me; but my mind kept coming +back to the dress, the evening dress, that I was to be privileged to +wear. What would it be like? Would silk or muslin be prettier? If +only it were not pink! A red-haired girl in pink was a sad sight!</p> + +<p>Looking up, I saw a portrait on the wall, of a beautiful girl, in a +curious, old-time costume. The soft dark eyes and regal turn of the +head told me that it was my hostess in her youth; and even as I +looked, I heard the rustle again, and smelt the faint odor of +sandalwood; and Madam Le Baron came softly in, followed by the fairy +maid, bearing a long parcel.</p> + +<p>"Your gown, my dear," she said, "I thought you would like to be +preparing for the evening. Undo it, Jessop!"</p> + +<p>Jessop lifted fold on fold of tissue-paper. I looked, expecting I +know not what fairy thing of lace and muslin: I saw—the green satin +gown!</p> + +<p>We were wearing large sleeves then, something like yours at the +present day, and high collars; the fashion was at its height. This +gown had long, tight, wrinkled sleeves, coming down over the hand, +and finished with a ruffle of yellow lace; the neck, rounded and +half-low, had a similar ruffle almost deep enough to be called a ruff; +the waist, if it could be called a waist, was up under the arms: +briefly, a costume of my grandmother's time. Little green satin +slippers lay beside it, and a huge feather-fan hung by a green ribbon. +Was this a jest? was it—I looked up, with burning cheeks and eyes +suffused; I met a glance so kind, so beaming with good-will, that my +eyes fell, and I could only hope that my anguish had not been visible.</p> + +<p>"Shall Jessop help you, my dear?" said Madam Le Baron. "You can do +it by yourself? Well, I like to see the young independent. I think +the gown will become you; it has been considered handsome." She +glanced fondly at the shining fabric, and left the room; the maid, +after one sharp glance at me, in which I thought I read an amused +compassion, followed; and I was left alone with the green satin gown.</p> + +<p>Cry? No, I did not cry: I had been brought up not to cry; but I +suffered, my dear, as one does suffer at seventeen. I thought of +jumping out of the window and running away, back to Miss Persis; I +thought of going to bed, and saying I was ill. It was true, I said +to myself, with feverish violence: I <i>was</i> ill, sick with shame and +mortification and disappointment. Appear before this gay party, +dressed like my own great-grandmother? I would rather die! A person +might easily die of such distress as this—and so on, and so on!</p> + +<p>Suddenly, like a cool touch on my brow, came a thought, a word of my +Uncle John's, that had helped me many a time before.</p> + +<p>"Endeavor, my dear, to maintain a sense of proportion!"</p> + +<p>The words fell with weight on my distracted mind. I sat up straight +in the armchair into which I had flung myself, face downward. Was +there any proportion in this horror? I shook myself, then put the +two sides together, and looked at them. On one side, two lovely old +ladies, one of whom I could perhaps help a little, both of whom I +could gratify; on the other, my own—dear me! was it vanity? I +thought of the two sweet old faces, shining with kindness; I fancied +the distress, the disappointment, that might come into them, if I—</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear uncle," I said aloud, "I have found the proportion!" I +shook myself again, and began to dress. And now a happy thought +struck me. Glancing at the portrait on the wall, I saw that the fair +girl was dressed in green. Was it? Yes, it must be—it was—the very +same dress! Quickly, and as neatly as I could, I arranged my hair in +two great puffs, with a butterfly knot on the top of my head, in the +style of the picture; if only I had the high comb! I slipped on the +gown, which fitted me well enough. I put on the slippers, and tied +the green ribbons round and round my ankles; then I lighted all the +candles, and looked at myself. A perfect guy? Well, perhaps—and +yet—</p> + +<p>At this moment Jessop entered, bringing a pair of yellow gloves; she +looked me over critically, saying nothing; glanced at the portrait, +withdrew, and presently reappeared, with the high tortoise-shell +comb in her hand. She placed it carefully in my hair, surveyed me +again, and again looked at the picture. Yes, it was true, the +necklace was wanting; but of course—</p> + +<p>Really, Jessop was behaving like a jack-in-the-box! She had +disappeared again, and now here she was for the third time; but this +time Madam Le Baron was with her. The old lady looked at me silently, +at my hair, then up at the picture. The sight of the pleasure in her +lovely face trampled under foot, put out of existence, the last +remnant of my foolish pride.</p> + +<p>She turned to Jessop and nodded. "Yes, by all means!" she said. The +maid put into her hand a long morocco box; Madam kissed me, and with +soft, trembling fingers clasped the necklace round my neck. +"It is a graceful compliment you pay me, my child," she said, +glancing at the picture again, with eyes a little dimmed. "Oblige me +by wearing this, to complete the vision of my past youth."</p> + +<p>Ten stars of chrysoprase, the purest and tenderest green in the world, +set in delicately wrought gold. I need not describe the necklace to +you. You think it the most beautiful jewel in the world, and so do I; +and I have promised that you shall wear it on your eighteenth +birthday.</p> + +<p>Madam Le Baron saw nothing singular in my appearance. She never +changed the fashion of her dress, being of the opinion, as she told +me afterward, that a gentlewoman's dress is her own affair, not her +mantua-maker's; and her gray and silver brocade went very well with +the green satin. We stood side by side for a moment, gazing into the +long, dim mirror; then she patted my shoulder and gave a little sigh.</p> + +<p>"Your auburn hair looks well with the green," she said. "My hair was +dark, but otherwise—Shall we go down, my dear?"</p> + +<p>I will not say much about the evening. It was painful, of course; +but Effie Gay had no mother, and much must be pardoned in such a case. +No doubt I made a quaint figure enough among the six or eight gay +girls, all dressed in the latest fashion; but the first moment was +the worst, and the first titter put a fire in my veins that kept me +warm all the evening. An occasional glance at Madam Le Baron's +placid face enabled me to preserve my sense of proportion, and I +remembered that two wise men, Solomon and my Uncle John, had +compared the laughter of fools to the crackling of thorns under a pot. +And—and there were some who did not laugh.</p> + +<p>Pin it up, my dear! Your father has come, and will be wanting his tea.</p> + +<p>I can tell you the rest of the story in a few words.</p> + +<p>A year from that time Madam Le Baron died; and a few weeks after her +death, a parcel came for me from Hillton.</p> + +<p>Opening it in great wonder, what did I find but the gown, the green +satin gown, with the slippers and fan, and the tortoise-shell comb +in a leather case! Lifting it reverently from the box, the dress felt +singularly heavy on my arm, and a moment's search revealed a strange +matter. The pocket was full of gold pieces, shining half-eagles, +which fell about me in a golden shower, and made me cry out with +amazement; but this was not all! The tears sprang to my eyes as I +opened the morocco box and took out the chrysoprase necklace: tears +partly of gratitude and pleasure, partly of sheer kindness and love +and sorrow for the sweet, stately lady who had thought of me in her +closing days, and had found (they told me afterward) one of her last +pleasures in planning this surprise for me.</p> + +<p>There is something more that I might say, my dear. Your dear father +was one of that gay sleighing party; and he often speaks of the +first time he saw me—when I was coming down the stairs in the green +satin gown.</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="egypt"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +BLUE EGYPTIANS</h2> <a href="#foot1">[1]</a> +<br><br> +<h3> +A PAPER-MILL STORY</h3></center> +<br> +<p>"I wouldn't, Lena!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess I shall!"</p> + +<p>"Don't, Lena! please don't! you will be sorry, I am sure, if you do +it. It cannot bring good, I know it cannot!"</p> + +<p>"The idea! Mary Denison, you are too old-fashioned for anything. I'd +like to know what harm it can do."</p> + +<p>The rag-room was nearly deserted. The whistle had blown, and most of +the girls had hurried away to their dinner. Two only lingered behind, +deep in conversation; Mary Denison and Lena Laxen.</p> + +<p>Mary was sitting by her sorting-table, busily sorting rags as she +talked. She was a fair, slender girl, and looked wonderfully fresh +and trim in her gray print gown, with a cap of the same material +fitting close to her head, and hiding her pretty hair. The other +girl was dark and vivacious, with laughing black eyes and a careless +mouth. She was picturesque enough in her blue dress, with the +scarlet handkerchief tied loosely over her hair; but both kerchief +and dress showed the dust plainly, and the dark locks that escaped +here and there were dusty too, showing little of the care that may +keep one neat even in a rag-room.</p> + +<p>"It's just as pretty as it can be!" Lena went on, half-coaxing, +half-defiant. "You ought to see it, Mame! A silk waist, every bit as +good as new, only of course it's mussed up, lying in the bag; and a +skirt, and lots of other things, all as nice as nice! I can't think +what the folks that had them meant, putting such things into the rags: +why, that waist hadn't much more than come out of the shop, you +might say. And do you think I'm going to let it go through the duster, +and then be thrown out, and somebody else get it? No, sir! and it's +no good for rags, you know it isn't, Mary Denison."</p> + +<p>"I know that it is not yours, Lena, nor mine!" said Mary, steadily. +"But I'll tell you what you might do; go straight to Mr. Gordon, and +tell him about the pretty waist,—very likely it got in by +mistake,—tell him it is no good for rags, and ask if you may have it. Like +as not he'll let you have it; and if not, you will find out what his +reason is. I think we ought to suppose he has some reason for what +he does."</p> + +<p>Lena laughed spitefully.</p> + +<p>"Like as not he's going to take it home to his own girl!" she said. +"I saw her in the street the other day, and I wouldn't have been +seen dead with the hat she had on; not a flower, nor even a scrap of +a feather; just a plain band and a goose-quill stuck in it. Real +poorhouse, I thought it looked, and he as rich as a Jew. I guess I +sha'n't go to Mr. Gordon; he's just as hateful as he can be. He gave +out word that no one was to touch that bag, nor so much as go near it; +and he had it set off in a corner of the outer shed, close by the +chloride barrels, so that everything in it will smell like poison. +If that isn't mean, I don't know what is.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't stay here all day, Mame. Aren't you coming?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty soon!" said Mary. "Don't wait for me, Lena! I want to finish +this stint, so as to have the afternoon off. Mother's poorly to-day, +and I want to cook something nice for her supper."</p> + +<p>Lena nodded and went out, shutting the door with a defiant swing. +Mary looked after her doubtfully, as if hesitating whether she ought +not to follow and make some stronger plea; but the next moment she +bent over her work again.</p> + +<p>"I must hurry!" she said. "I'll see Lena after dinner, and try to +make her promise not to touch that bag. I don't see what has got +into her."</p> + +<p>Mary worked away steadily. The rags were piled in an iron sieve +before her; they were mostly the kind called "Blue Egyptians," +cotton cloth dyed with indigo, which had come far across the sea from +Egypt. Musty and fusty enough they were, and Mary often turned her +head aside as she sorted them carefully, putting the good rags into +a huge basket that stood beside her on the floor, while the bits of +woollen cloth, of paper and string and other refuse, went into +different compartments of the sorting-table, which was something +like an old-fashioned box-desk.</p> + +<p>Mary was a quick worker, and her basket was already nearly full of +rags. Fastened upright beside her seat was a great knife, not unlike +a scythe-blade, with which she cut off the buttons and hooks and eyes, +running the garment along the keen edge with a quick and practised +hand. Usually she amused herself by imagining stories about the +buttons and their former owners, for she was a fanciful girl, and +her child-life, without brothers or sisters, had bred in her the +habit of solitary play and "make-believe," which clung to her now +that she was a tall girl of sixteen. But to-day she was not thinking +of the Blue Egyptians. Her thoughts were following Lena on her +homeward way, and she was hoping devoutly that her own words might +have had some effect, and that Lena might pass by the forbidden bag +without lingering to be further tempted. It <i>was</i> strange that this +one special bundle of rags, coming from a village at some distance, +should have been kept apart when the day's allowance was put into +the dusters. But—"Mother always says we ought to suppose there is a +reason for things!" she said to herself. And she shook her head +resolutely, and tried to make a "button-play."</p> + +<p>She pulled from the heap before her a dark blue garment, and turned +it over, examining it carefully. It seemed to be a woman's jacket. +It was of finer material than most of the "Egyptians," and the +fashion was quaint and graceful. There were remnants of embroidery +here and there, and the heavy glass buttons were like nothing Mary +had ever seen before.</p> + +<p>"I'll keep these," she said, "for little Jessie Brown; she will be +delighted with them. That child does make so much out of so little, +I'm fairly ashamed sometimes. These will be a fortune to Jessie. +I'll tell her that I think most likely they belonged to a princess +when they were new; they were up and down the front of a dress of +gold cloth trimmed with pearls, and she looked perfectly beautiful +when she had it on, and the Prince of the Fortunate Islands fell in +love with her."</p> + +<p>Buttons were a regular perquisite of the rag-girls in the Cumquot +Mill; indeed, any trifle, coin, or seal, or medal, was considered +the property of the finder, this being an unwritten law of the +rag-room.</p> + +<p>Mary cut the buttons off, and slipped them into her pocket; then she +ran her fingers round the edge of the jacket, in case there were any +hooks or other hard substance that had escaped her notice, and that +might blunt the knives of the cutter, into which it would next go.</p> + +<p>In a corner of the lining, her fingers met something hard. Here was +some object that had slipped down between the stuff and the lining, +and must be cut out. Mary ran the jacket along the cutting-knife, +and something rolled into her lap. Not a button this time! she held +it up to the light, and examined it curiously. It was a brooch, of +glass, or clear stones, in a tarnished silver setting. Dim and dusty, +it still seemed full of light, and glanced in the sun as Mary held +it up.</p> + +<p>"What a pretty thing!" she said. "I wonder if it is glass. I must +take this to Mr. Gordon, for I never found anything like it before. +Jessie cannot have this."</p> + +<p>She laid it carefully aside, and went on with her sorting, working +so quickly that in a few moments the sieve was empty, and the basket +piled with good cotton rags, ready for the cutting-machine.</p> + +<p>Taking her hat and shawl, Mary passed out, holding the brooch +carefully in her hand. There were few people in the mill, only the +machine-tenders, walking leisurely up and down beside their machines, +which whirred and droned on, regardless of dinnertime. The great +rollers went round and round, the broad white streams flowed on and +on over the screens, till the mysterious moment came when they +ceased to be wet pulp and became paper.</p> + +<p>Mary hardly glanced at the wonderful machines; they were an old +story to her, though in every throb they were telling over and over +the marvellous works of man. The machine-tenders nodded kindly in +return to her modest greeting, and looked after her with approval, +and said, "Nice gal!" to each other; but Mary hurried on until she +came to the finishing-room. Here she hoped to find a friend whom she +could consult about her discovery; and, sure enough, old James +Gregory was sitting on his accustomed stool, tying bundles of paper +with the perfection that no one else could equal. His back was +turned to the door, and he was crooning a fragment of an old +paper-mill song, which might have been composed by the beating +engine itself, so rhythmic and monotonous it was.</p> +<center> +<table summary="poem"> +<tr><td> +<p> + "'Gene, 'Gene,<br> + Made a machine;<br> + Joe, Joe,<br> + Made it go;<br> + Frank, Frank,<br> + Turned the crank,<br> + His mother came out,<br> + And gave him a spank,<br> + And knocked him over<br> + The garden bank."</p> +</td></tr> +</table></center> +<p> +At Mary's cheerful "Good morning, Mr. Gregory!" the old man turned +slowly, and looked at the young girl with friendly eyes.</p> + +<p>"Good day, Mary! glad to see ye! goin' along home?"</p> + +<p>"In just a minute! I want to show you something, Mr. Gregory, and to +ask your advice, please."</p> + +<p>The old finisher turned completely round this time, and looked his +interest. Mary opened her hand, and displayed the brooch she had +found.</p> + +<p>James Gregory drew his lips into the form of a whistle, but made no +sound. He looked from the brooch to Mary, and back again.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I found it in the rags; blue Egyptians, you know, Mr. Gregory. It +was inside the lining of a jacket. Do you think—what do you think +about it? is it glass, or—something else?"</p> + +<p>Gregory took the ornament from her, and held it up to the light, +screwing his eyes to little points of light; then he polished it on +his sleeve, and held it up again.</p> + +<a name="sleeve"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="1w_Sleeve.jpg (110K)" src="images/1w_Sleeve.jpg" height="1084" width="677"> +<br> +<p>["GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP AGAIN."]</p> +</center> +<br><br> + +<p>"Something else!" he said, briefly.</p> + +<p>"Is it—do you think it might be worth something, Mr. Gregory?" +asked Mary, rather timidly.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" roared Gregory, with a sudden explosion. "I do! I b'lieve +them's di'monds, sure as here I sit. Mary Denison, you've struck it +this time, or I'm a Dutchman."</p> + +<p>He got off his stool in great excitement, and walked up and down the +room, still holding the brooch in his hand. Mary looked after him, +and her face was very pale. She said one word softly, "Mother!" that +was all.</p> + +<p>Mary Denison and her mother were poor. Mrs. Denison was far from +strong, and they had no easy time of it, for there was little save +Mary's wages to feed and clothe the two women and pay their rent. +James Gregory knew all this; his pale old face was lighted with +emotion, and he stumped up and down the room at a rapid pace.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he stopped, and faced the anxious girl, who was following +him with bewildered eyes.</p> + +<p>"Findin's havin'!" he said, abruptly. "That's paper-mill law. Some +folks would tell ye to keep this to yourself, and sell it for what +you could get."</p> + +<p>Mary's face flushed.</p> + +<p>"But you do not tell me that!" she said, quietly.</p> + +<p>"No!" roared the old man, with another explosion, stamping violently +on the floor. "No, I don't. You're poor as spring snakes, and your +mother's sickly, and you've hard work to get enough to keep the +flesh on your bones; but I don't tell ye to do that. I tell ye to +take it straight to the Old Man, and tell him where ye found it, and +all about it. I've knowed him ever since his mustash growed, and +before. You go straight to him! He's in the office now."</p> + +<p>"I was going!" said Mary, simply. "I thought I'd come and see you +first, Mr. Gregory, you've always been so good to mother and me. +You—you couldn't manage to come with me, could you? I am afraid of +Mr. Gordon; I can't help it, though he is always pleasant to me."</p> + +<p>"I'll go!" said old James, with alacrity. "You come right along with +me!"</p> + +<p>In his eagerness he seized Mary by the arm, and kept his hold on her +as they passed out through the mill. The few "hands" who were at +work here and there gazed after them in amazement; for the old man +was dragging the girl along as if he had caught her in some offence, +and was going to deliver her up to justice.</p> + +<p>The same impression was made in the office, when the pair appeared +there. The two clerks stared open-mouthed, and judged after their +nature; for one of them said, instantly, to himself, "It's a mistake!" +while the other said, "I always knew that Denison girl was too pious +to last!"</p> + +<p>A tall man who sat at a desk in the corner looked up quietly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Gregory!" he said. "What is it? Mary Denison? Good morning, Mary! +Anything wrong in the rag-room?"</p> + +<p>Gregory waved his hat excitedly.</p> + +<p>"If you'd look here, sir!" he said. "If you would just cast your eye +over that article, and tell this gal what you think of it! Blue +Egyptians, sir! luckiest rags that ever come into this mill, I've +always said. Well, sir?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon was not easily stirred to excitement. It seemed an age to +the anxious girl and the impetuous old man, as he turned the brooch +over and over, holding it up in every light, polishing it, breathing +on it, then polishing it again. Gregory's hands twitched with +eagerness, and Mary felt almost faint with suspense.</p> + +<p>"You found this in the rags?" he asked at length, turning to Mary. +He spoke in his ordinary even tone, and Mary's heart sank, she could +not have told why.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!" she faltered. "I found it in a blue jacket. It was in +between the stuff and the lining. There were glass buttons on the +jacket."</p> + +<p>She drew them from her pocket and held them out; but Mr. Gordon, +after a glance, waved them back.</p> + +<p>"Those are of no value!" he said. "About this brooch, I am not so +sure. The stones may be real stones—I incline to think they are; +but it is possible that they may be paste. The imitations are +sometimes very perfect; no one but a jeweller can tell positively. I +will take it to Boston with me to-morrow, and have it examined."</p> + +<p>He dropped the brooch into a drawer at his side, turned the key and +put it in his pocket, all in his quiet, methodical way, as if he +were in the habit of examining diamond brooches every day; then he +nodded kindly to the pair, and bent over his papers again.</p> + +<p>Mary went out silently, and Gregory followed her with a dazed look +on his strong features. He looked back at the door two or three times, +but said nothing till they were back in the finishing-room.</p> + +<p>Then—"It's one of his days!" he said. "I've knowed him ever since +his mustash growed, and there's days when he's struck with a dumb +sperit, just like Scriptur'. Don't you fret, Mary! He'll see you +righted, or I'll give you my head."</p> + +<p>Mary might have thought that Mr. Gregory's head would be of little +use to her without the rest of him. She felt sadly dashed and +disappointed. She hardly knew what she had expected, but it was +something very different from this calm, every-day reception, this +total disregard of her own and her companion's excitement.</p> + +<p>"I guess he thinks they're nothing great!" she said, wearily. +"What was that he said about paste, Mr. Gregory? You never saw any +paste like that, did you?</p> + +<p>"No!" said Gregory, "I've heered of Di'mond Glue, but 'twan't +nothin' like stones—nor glass neither. You may run me through the +calenders if I know what he's drivin' at. But I'll trust him!" he +added, vehemently. "I done right to tell you to go to him. He's in +one of his moods to-day, but you'll hear from him, if there's +anything to hear, now mark my words! And now I'd go home, if I was +you, and see your ma'am, and get your dinner. And—Mary—I dono as +I'd say anything about this, if I was you. Things get round so in a +mill, ye know."</p> + +<p>Mary nodded assurance, and went home, trying to feel that nothing of +importance had happened. Do what she would, however, the golden +visions would come dancing before her eyes. Suppose—suppose the +stones should be real, after all! and suppose Mr. Gordon should give +her a part, at least, of the money they might bring in Boston. It +might—she knew diamonds were valuable—it might be thirty or forty +dollars. Oh! how rich she would be! The rent could be paid some time +in advance, and her mother could have the new shawl she needed so +badly: or would a cloak be better? cloaks were more in fashion, but +Mother said a good shawl was always good style.</p> + +<p>Turning the corner by her mother's house, she met one of the clerks +who had been in the office when she went in there. He looked at her +with the smile she always disliked, she hardly knew why.</p> + +<p>"You did the wrong thing that time, Miss Denison!" he said.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Mr. Hitchcock?" asked Mary.</p> + +<p>"You'll never see your diamonds again, nor the money for them!" +replied the man. "That's easy guessing. He'll come back and tell you +they're glass or paste, and that's the last you'll hear of them. And +the diamonds—for they are diamonds, right enough—will go into his +pocket, or on to his wife's neck. I know what's what! I wasn't born +down in these parts."</p> + +<p>"You don't know Mr. Gordon!" said Mary, warmly. "That isn't the way +he is thought of by those who do know him."</p> + +<p>The clerk was a newcomer from another State, and was not liked by +the mill-workers.</p> + +<p>"I know his kind!" he said, with a sneer; "and they're no good to +your kind, Mary Denison, nor to mine. Mark my words, you'll hear no +more of that breastpin."</p> + +<p>Mary turned away so decidedly that he said no more, but his eyes +followed her with a sinister look.</p> + +<p>Next moment he was greeting Lena Laxen cordially, and she was +dimpling and smiling all over at his compliments. Lena thought +Mr. Hitchcock "just elegant!" and believed that Mary was jealous when +she said she did not like him. Something now prompted her to tell +him about the silk waist in the forbidden sack; he took her view at +once and zealously. The boss (for he did not use the kindly title of +"Old Man," by which the other mill-hands designated Mr. Gordon, +though he was barely forty) had his eye on the things, most likely, +as he had on the pin Mary Denison found. Hadn't Lena heard about that? +Well, it was a burning shame, he could tell her; he would see that +she, Lena, wasn't fooled that way. And Lena, listening eagerly, +heard a story very different from that which had been told to +Mr. Gordon.</p> + +<p>In an hour the whole mill knew that Mary Denison had found a diamond +pin in the rags, and that Mr. Gordon had told her it was nothing but +hard glue, and had sold it himself in Boston for a thousand dollars, +and spent the money on a new horse.</p> + +<p>Nor was this all! Late that evening Lena Laxen stole from her home +with a shawl over her head, and met the clerk by the corner of the +outer shed. A few minutes of whispering and giggling, and she stole +back, with a bundle under her shawl; while Hitchcock tied a bright +silk handkerchief round his neck, and strutted off with the air of a +conqueror.</p> + +<p>Next morning, as Mary Denison was going to her work, Lena rapped on +the window, and called her attention by signs to the bodice she had +on. It was a gay striped silk, little worn, but still showing, in +spite of pressing, the marks of crumpling and tossing. The bright +colors suited Lena's dark skin well, and as she stood there with +flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, Mary thought she had never seen +her look prettier. At first she nodded and smiled in approval; but +the next moment a thought darted into her mind that made her clasp +her hands, and cry anxiously:</p> + +<p>"Oh! Lena, you didn't do it! you never did it! it's not <i>that</i> waist +you have on?"</p> + +<p>Lena affected not to hear. She only nodded and laughed triumphantly, +and turned away, leaving Mary standing pale and distressed outside +the window.</p> + +<p>Mary hesitated. Should she go in and reason further with the wilful +girl, and try to persuade her to restore the stolen garment? +Something told her it would be useless; but still she was on the +point of going in, when old James Gregory came by, and asked her to +walk on with him.</p> + +<p>She complied, but not without an anxious look back at the window, +where no one was now to be seen.</p> + +<p>"Well, May," said Gregory, "how're ye feelin' to-day? hearty? that's +clever! I hope you wasn't frettin' about that pin any. Most girls +would, but you ain't the fool kind."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Mr. Gregory!" said Mary, laughing. "I'm afraid I have +thought about it more or less, but I haven't been fretting. Where's +the use?"</p> + +<p>"Jes' so! jes' so!" assented the old man, with alacrity.</p> + +<p>"And I didn't say anything to Mother," Mary went on. "I didn't want +her to know about it unless something was really coming of it. Poor +Mother! she has enough to think about."</p> + +<p>"She has so!" said Gregory. "A sight o' thinkin' your mother doos, +Mary, and good thoughts, every one of 'em, I'll bet my next pay. +She's a good woman, your mother; I guess likely you know it without +me sayin' so. I call Susan Denison the best woman I know, and I've +told my wife so, more times than she says she has any occasion for. +I don't say she's an angel, but she's a good woman, and that's as fur +as we're likely to get in this world.</p> + +<p>"But that ain't what I wanted to say to you, May! Somehow or 'nother, +the story's got round about your findin' that pin yesterday. You +didn't say nothin'?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word!" said Mary. "How could it—"</p> + +<p>"'Twas that pison Hitchcock, I expect!" said Gregory. "I see him +lookin' up with his little eyes, as red as a ferret, and as ugly. I +bet he started the hull thing; and he's tacked on a passel of lies, +and the endurin' place is hummin' with it. Thought I'd tell ye +before ye went in, so's ye could fix up a little what to say."</p> + +<p>Mary thanked him cordially, and passed on into the mill: the old man +looked after her with a very friendly glance in his keen blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"She's good stuff, May is!" he murmured. "Good stuff, like her mother.</p> + +<p>"Folks is like rags, however you look at 'em. Take a good linen rag, +no matter how black it is, and put it through the washers, and the +bleachers, and the cutters, and all the time it's gettin' whiter and +whiter, and sweeter and sweeter, the more you bang it round; till at +last you have bank-note paper, and write to the Queen of England on +it, if you're a mind to, and she won't have none better. And take +jute or shoddy, and the minute you touch to wash it, it cockles up, +or drops to pieces, and it ain't no good to mortal man. Jest like +folks, I tell ye! and May and her mother's pure linen clippin's, if +ever I see 'em."</p> + +<p>Forewarned is forearmed, and Mary met quietly the buzz of inquiry +that greeted her when she entered the rag-room. The girls crowded +round her, the men were not far behind. To each and all Mary told the +simple truth, trying not to say a word too much. "The tongue is a +fire!" her mother's favorite text, was constantly in her mind, and +she was determined that no ill word should be spoken of Mr. Gordon, +if she could help it. Almost every one in the mill liked and +respected the "Old Man;" but the human mind loves a sensation, and +Lena and Hitchcock had told their story so vividly the day before +that Mary's account seemed tame and dull beside it; and some of the +hands preferred to think that "Mame Denison was a sly one, and +warn't goin' to let on, fear some one'd git ahead of her."</p> + +<p>Lena, who came shortly, in her usual dress, fostered this feeling, +not from malice, but from sheer love of excitement and gossip. In +spite of Mary's efforts, the excitement increased, and when, late in +the afternoon, word came that Mary Denison was wanted in the office, +the rag-room was left fairly bubbling with wild surmise.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon did not see Mary when she came in. He was standing at his +desk, with an open letter in his hand, and his face was disturbed as +he spoke to the senior clerk.</p> + +<p>"Myers, it is as I feared about that bag of rags from Blankton. You +have kept it carefully tied up, and close by the chlorides, as I +told you?"</p> + +<p>Myers, a clear-eyed, honest-browed man, looked troubled.</p> + +<p>"I did, sir!" he said. "I have looked at the bag every time I passed +that way, and have cautioned every one in the mill not to go near it, +besides keeping the shed-gate locked; but this morning I found that +it had been tampered with, and evidently something taken out. I hope +there is nothing wrong, sir!"</p> + +<p>George Gordon struck his hand heavily on the desk. "Wrong!" he +repeated. "There have been two fatal cases of smallpox in Blankton, +and that bag has been traced to the house where they were."</p> + +<p>There was a moment of deathly silence. He went on:</p> + +<p>"I suspected something wrong, the moment you told me of things that +looked new and good; but I did not want to raise a panic in the mill, +when there might be some other explanation. I thought I had taken +every precaution—what is that?"</p> + +<p>He turned quickly, hearing a low cry behind him. Mary Denison was +standing with clasped hands, her face white with terror.</p> + +<p>"Mary!" said Mr. Gordon, in amazement. "You—surely you have had +nothing to do with this?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir!" cried Mary. "Oh, no, Mr. Gordon, indeed I have not. But I +fear—I fear I know who has. Oh, poor thing! poor Lena!"</p> + +<p>Then, with an impulse she could not explain, she turned suddenly +upon Hitchcock.</p> + +<p>"Who let Lena Laxen into the yard last night?" she cried. "She could +not have got in without help. You had a key—you were talking to her +after I left her yesterday. Oh! look at him, Mr. Gordon! Mr. Myers, +look at that man!"</p> + +<p>But Hitchcock did not seem to hear or heed her. He sat crouched over +his desk, his face a greenish-gray color, his eyes staring, his +hands clutching the woodwork convulsively; an awful figure of terror, +that gasped and cowered before them. Then suddenly, with a cry that +rattled in his throat, he dashed from his seat and ran bareheaded +out of the door.</p> + +<p>Myers started up to pursue him, but Mr. Gordon held up his hand.</p> + +<p>"Let him go!" he said, sternly. "It may be that he carries his +punishment with him. In any case we shall see him no more."</p> + +<p>Quickly and quietly he gave Myers his orders; to take Lena Laxen to +her home, notify the physician, and proclaim a strict quarantine; to +burn the infected rags without loss of time; to have every part of +the shed where the fatal bag had stood thoroughly disinfected. When +the man had hastened away, Mr. Gordon turned to Mary, and his stern +face lightened.</p> + +<p>"Do not distress yourself, Mary," he said, kindly. "It may be that +Lena will escape the infection; it seems that she only had the +garment on a few minutes; and you did all you could, I am sure, to +dissuade her from this piece of fatal and dishonest folly."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I might have said more!" cried Mary, in an agony of +self-reproach. "I meant to go into her house this morning, and try +to make her hear reason; it might not have been too late then."</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven you did not!" said Mr. Gordon, gravely. "The air of +the house was probably already infected. No one save the doctor must +go near that house till all danger of the disease developing is over."</p> + +<p>He then told Mary briefly why he had sent for her. Finding that he +could not go to Boston himself at present, as he had planned, he had +sent the brooch by express to a jeweller whom he knew, and would be +able to tell her in a few days whether it was of real value or not. +Mary thanked him, but his words fell almost unheeded on her ears. +What were jewels or money, in the face of a danger so awful as that +which now threatened her friend, and, through her, the whole village?</p> + +<p>Days of suspense followed. From the moment when the weeping, +agonized Lena was taken home and put, tenderly, pityingly, in her +mother's hands (it was Mr. Gordon himself who had done this, refusing +to let any other perform the duty), an invisible line was drawn +about the Laxen cottage, which few dared pass. The doctor came and +went, reporting all well to the eager questioners. Mr. Gordon called +daily to inquire, and every evening Mary Denison stole to the door +with a paper or magazine for Lena and her mother, or some home-made +delicacy that might please the imprisoned girl. Lena was usually at +the window, sometimes defiant and blustering, sometimes wild with +fright, sometimes again crying for sheer loneliness and vexation; +but always behind her was her mother's pale face of dread, and her +thin voice saying that Lena was "as well as common, thank ye," and +she and Mary would exchange glances, and Mary would go away drawing +breath, and thanking the Lord that another day was gone.</p> + +<p>So on, for nine anxious days; but on the tenth, when Mary looked up +at the window, the mother stood there alone, crying; and the doctor, +coming out of the house at the moment, told Mary harshly to keep away +from him, and not to come so near the house.</p> + +<p>In the dreadful days that followed, his people learned to know +George Gordon as they had never known him before. The grave, silent +man, who never spoke save when speech was necessary, was now among +them every day, going from room to room with cheerful greetings, +encouraging, heartening, raising the drooping spirits, and rebuking +sharply the croakers, who foretold with dismal unction a general +epidemic. While taking every possible precaution, he made light of +the actual danger, and by his presence and influence warded off the +panic which might have brought about the dreaded result.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, there were no more cases in the mill; and Lena +herself had the terrible disease more lightly than any one had dared +to hope. The doctor, hurrying through back ways and alleys to change +his clothes and take his bath of disinfectants, was hailed from back +gates and windows at every step; and he never failed to return a +cheery "Doing well! out of it soon now! No, not much marked, only a +few spots here and there."</p> + +<p>This was when he left the quarantined house; but when he sought it, +he might be seen to stop at one gate and another, picking up here a +jar, there a bowl, here again a paper bag; till by the time he +reached the Laxen gate he stood out all over with packages like a +summer Santa Claus.</p> + +<p>"There ain't anybody goin' to starve round here, if they <i>have</i> got +the smallpox!" was the general verdict, voiced by James Gregory, and +when he added, for the benefit of the mill-yard, that he had heard +Mr. Gordon order ice-cream, oranges, and oysters, all at once, for +Lena, a growl of pleasure went round, which deepened into a hearty +"What's the matter with the Old Man? <i>he's</i> all right!"</p> + +<p>At length, one happy day, Mary Denison met Mr. Gordon at the Laxens' +gate, and heard the good news that Lena was sitting up; that in a +day or two now the quarantine would be taken off, the house +disinfected, and Lena back in her place at the mill. The manager +looked with satisfaction at Mary's beaming face of happiness; then, +as she was turning away to spread the good tidings, he said:</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment, Mary! I have some other news for you. Have you +forgotten the brooch that you found in the Blue Egyptians?"</p> + +<p>The color rushed to Mary's face, and Mr. Gordon had his answer.</p> + +<p>"Because," he added, "I have not forgotten, though you might well +think I had done so. All this sad business has delayed matters, but +now I have it all arranged. I am ready to-day, Mary, to give you +either the brooch itself, or—what I think will be better—five +hundred dollars, the sum I find it to be worth. Yes, my child, I am +speaking the truth! The stones are fine ones, and the Boston +jeweller offers you that sum for them. Well, Mary, have you nothing +to say? What, crying? this will never do!"</p> + +<p>But Mary had nothing to say, and she was crying, because she could +not help it. Presently she managed to murmur something about +"Too much! too great kindness—not fair for her to have it all!" but +Mr. Gordon cut her short.</p> + +<p>"Certainly you are to have it all, every penny of it! Finding's +having! that is paper-mill law; ask James Gregory if it is not! +There comes James this moment; go and tell him of your good fortune, +and let him bring you up to my house this evening to get the money.</p> + +<p>"But, Mary,"—he glanced at a letter in his hand, and his face, +which had been bright with kindness and pleasure, grew very +grave,—"there is something else for you to tell James, and all the hands. +James Hitchcock died yesterday, of malignant smallpox!"</p> +<a name="foot1"></a><br> +<p>[Footnote 1: The main incidents in this story are founded on fact.]</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="ben"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +LITTLE BENJAMIN</h2> +<br> +<h3> "Then is little Benjamin their ruler."</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p> +"I THINK the kitty wants to come in," said Mother Golden. "I hear +him crying somewhere. Won't you go and let him in, Adam?"</p> + +<p>Adam laid down his book and went out; the whole family looked up +cheerfully, expecting to see Aladdin, the great Maltese cat, enter +with his stately port. There was a pause; then Adam came back with a +white, scared face, and looked at his father without speaking.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, my son?" asked Father Golden.</p> + +<p>"Is Kitty hurt?" asked Mother Golden, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Was it that dog of Jackson's?" cried Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph.</p> + +<p>"The cat isn't there!" said Adam. "It's—it's a basket, father."</p> + +<p>"A basket? What does the boy mean?"</p> + +<p>"A long basket, with something white inside; and—it's crying!"</p> + +<p>The boy had left the door open, and at this moment a sound came +through it, a long, low, plaintive cry.</p> + +<p>"My heart!" said Mother Golden; and she was out of the door in a +flash.</p> + +<p>"See there now!" said Father Golden, reprovingly. "Your mother's +smarter than any of you to-day. Go and help her, some of you!"</p> + +<p>The children tumbled headlong toward the door, but were met by +Mother Golden returning, bearing in her strong arms a long basket, +in which was indeed something white and fluffy that cried.</p> + + +<a name="white"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="2w_basket.jpg (123K)" src="images/2w_basket.jpg" height="1060" width="651"> +<br> +<p>["'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; +AND—IT'S CRYING!'"]</p> +</center> +<br><br> + +<p>"A baby!" exclaimed Father Golden.</p> + +<p>"A baby!" echoed Mary, Lemuel, Ruth, and Joseph.</p> + +<p>"Well, I knew it was a baby," protested Adam; "but I didn't like to +say so."</p> + +<p>Mother Golden lifted the child out and held it in a certain way; the +cries ceased, and the little creature nestled close against her and +looked up in her face.</p> + +<p>"My heart!" said Mother Golden again. "Come here, girls!"</p> + +<p>The girls pressed forward eagerly; the boys hung back, and glanced +at their father; these were women's matters.</p> + +<p>"It's got hair!" cried Ruth, in rapture. "Mother! real hair, and it +curls; see it curl!"</p> + +<p>"Look at its little hands!" murmured Mary. "They're like pink shells, +only soft. Oh! see it move them, Ruth!" She caught her sister's arm +in a sudden movement of delight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, mayn't we keep it?" cried both girls at once.</p> + +<p>Mother Golden was examining the baby's clothes.</p> + +<p>"Cambric slip, fine enough, but not so terrible fine. Flannel blanket, +machine-embroidered—stop! here's a note."</p> + +<p>She opened a folded paper, and read a few words, written in a +carefully rough hand.</p> + +<p>"His mother is dead, his father a waif. Ask the woman with the kind +eyes to take care of him, for Christ's sake."</p> + +<p>"My heart!" said Mother Golden, again.</p> + +<p>"It's a boy, then!" said Father Golden, brightening perceptibly. He +came forward, the boys edging forward too, encouraged by another +masculine presence.</p> + +<p>"It's a boy, and a beauty!" said Mother Golden, wiping her eyes. +"I never see a prettier child. Poor mother, to have to go and leave +him. Father, what do you say?"</p> + +<p>"It's for you to say, mother;" said Father Golden. "It's to you the +child was sent."</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose 'twas me that was meant? They might have mistaken the +house."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk foolishness!" said Father Golden. "The question is, what +shall we do with it? There's places, a plenty, where foundlings have +the best of bringing up; and you've got care enough, as it is, mother, +without taking on any more."</p> + +<p>"Oh! we could help!" cried Mary. "I could wash and dress it, I know +I could, and I'd just love to."</p> + +<p>"So could I!" said twelve-year-old Ruth. "We'd take turns, Mary and I. +Do let's keep it, mother!"</p> + +<p>"It's a great responsibility!" said Father Golden.</p> + +<p>"Great Jemima!" said Mother Golden, with a sniff. "If I couldn't +take the responsibility of a baby, I'd give up."</p> + +<p>Father Golden's mind moved slowly, and while he was meditating a +reply, his wife issued various commands, and went through some +intricate feminine manoeuvres, with the effect of increased +fluffiness on the baby's part. In five minutes she was feeding the +child with warm milk from a spoon, and proclaiming that he ate +"like a Major!"</p> + +<p>The boys, gaining more and more confidence, were now close at her +knee, and watched the process with eager eyes.</p> + +<p>"He's swallering like anything!" cried Lemuel. "I can see him do it +with his throat, same as anybody."</p> + +<p>"See him grab the spoon!" said Joseph. "My! ain't he strong? Can he +talk, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Joe, you chuckle-head!" said Adam, who was sixteen, and knew most +things. "How can he talk, when he hasn't got any teeth?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle 'Rastus hasn't got any teeth," retorted Joseph, "and he talks +like a buzz-saw."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Joseph!" said Mother Golden, reprovingly. "Your Uncle 'Rastus +is a man of years."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother!" said Joseph, meekly.</p> + +<p>"Baby <i>has</i> got a tooth, too, Adam!" Mother Golden continued, +triumphantly. "I feel it pricking through the gum this minute. And +he so good, and laughing like a sunflower! Did it hurt him, then, a +little precious man? he shall have a nice ring to-morrow day, to +bitey on, so he shall!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose, then, he must be as much as a week old," hazarded Adam, +in an offhand tone. "They are never born with teeth, are they, +unless they are going to be Richard the Thirds, or something +wonderful?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he is!" said Ruth. "He looks wonderful enough for Richard +the Twentieth, or anything."</p> + +<p>But—"A week old!" said Mother Golden. "It's time there was a baby in +this house, if you don't know better than that, Adam. About six +months old I call him, and as pretty a child as ever I saw, even my +own."</p> + +<p>She looked half-defiantly at Father Golden, who returned the look +with one of mild deprecation.</p> + +<p>"I was only thinking of the care 'twould be to you, mother," he said. +"We're bound to make inquiries, and report the case, and so forth; +but if nothing comes of that, we might keep the child for a spell, +and see how things turn out."</p> + +<p>"That's what I was thinking!" said Mother Golden, eagerly. "I was +thinking anyway, Joel, 'twould be best to keep him through his +teething and stomach troubles, and give him a good start in the way +of proper food and nursing. At them homes and nurseries, they mean +well, but the most of them's young, and they <i>don't</i> understand a +child's stomach. It's experience they need, not good-will, I'm well +aware. Of course, when Baby begun to be a boy, things might be +different. You work hard enough as it is, father, and there's places, +no doubt, could do better for him, maybe, than what we could. +But—well, seeing whose name he come in, I <i>do</i> feel to see him +through his teething."</p> + +<p>"Children, what do you say?" asked Father Golden. "You're old enough +to have your opinion, even the youngest of you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, keep him! keep him!" clamored the three younger children.</p> + +<p>Adam and Lemuel exchanged a glance of grave inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I guess he'd better stay, father!" said Adam.</p> + +<p>"I think so, too!" said Lemuel; and both gave something like a sigh +of relief.</p> + +<p>"Then that's settled," said Father Golden, "saying and supposing +that no objection turns up. Next thing is, what shall we call this +child?"</p> + +<p>All eyes were fixed on the baby, who, now full of warm milk, sat +throned on Mother Golden's knee, blinking content.</p> + +<p>It was a pretty picture: the rosy, dimpled creature, the yellow +floss ruffled all over his head, his absurd little mouth open in a +beaming smile; beaming above him, Mother Golden's placid face in its +frame of silver hair; fronting them, Father Golden in his big +leather chair, solid, comfortable, benevolent; and the five children, +their honest, sober faces lighted up with unusual excitement. A +pleasant, homelike picture. Nothing remarkable in the way of setting; +the room, with its stuffed chairs, its tidies, and cabinet organ, was +only unlike other such rooms from the fact that Mother Golden +habitually sat in it; she could keep even haircloth from being +commonplace. But now, all the light in the room seemed to centre on +the yellow flossy curls against her breast.</p> + +<p>"A-goo!" said the baby, in a winning gurgle.</p> + +<p>"He says his name's Goo!" announced Joseph.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a chuckle-head, Joe!" said Adam. "What was the name on the +paper, mother?"</p> + +<p>"It said 'his father is a Waif;' but I don't take that to be a +Christian name. Surname, more likely, shouldn't you say, father?"</p> + +<p>"Not a Christian name, certainly," said Father Golden. "Not much of +a name anyhow, 'pears to me. We'd better give the child a suitable +name, mother, saying and supposing no objection turns up. Coming +into a Christian family, let him have Christian baptism, I say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, call him Arthur!"</p> + +<p>"Bill!"</p> + +<p>"Richard!"</p> + +<p>"Charlie!"</p> + +<p>"Reginald!" cried the children in chorus.</p> + +<p>"I do love a Bible name!" said Mother Golden, pensively. "It gives a +child a good start, so to say, and makes him think when he hears +himself named, or ought so to do. All our own children has Bible +names, father; don't let us cut the little stranger off from his +privilege."</p> + +<p>"But Bible names are so ugly!" objected Lemuel, who was sensitive, +and suffered under his own cognomen.</p> + +<p>"Son," said Father Golden, "your mother chooses the names in this +family."</p> + +<p>"Yes, father!" said Lemuel.</p> + +<p>"Lemuel, dear, you was named for a king!" said Mother Golden. +"He was a good boy to his mother, and so are you. Bring the Bible, +and let us see what it opens at. Joseph, you are the youngest, you +shall open it."</p> + +<p>Joseph opened the great brown leather Bible, and closing his eyes, +laid his hand on the page; then looking down, he read:</p> + +<p>"'There is little Benjamin their ruler, and the princes of Judah +their council: the princes of Zebulun and the princes of Nephtali.'"</p> + +<p>"Zebulun and Nephtali are outlandish-sounding names," said Mother +Golden.</p> + +<p>"I never knew but one Nephtali, and he squinted. Benjamin shall be +this child's name. Little Benjamin: the Lord bless and keep him!"</p> + +<p>"Amen!" said Father Golden.</p> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<p><i>PART II</i>.</p> + +<p>"Father, may I come in, if you are not busy?"</p> + +<p>It was Mary who spoke; Mary, the dear eldest daughter, now a woman +grown, grave and mild, trying hard to fill the place left empty +these two years, since Mother Golden went smiling out of life.</p> + +<p>Father Golden looked up from his book; he was an old man now, but +his eyes were still young and kind.</p> + +<p>"What is it, daughter Mary?"</p> + +<p>"The same old story, father dear; Benny in mischief again. This time +he has rubbed soot on all the door-handles, and the whole house is +black with it. I hate to trouble you, father, but I expect you'll +have to speak to him. I do love the child so, I'm not strict +enough—I'm ashamed to say it, but they all think so, and I know +it's true—and Adam is too strict."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Adam is too strict," said Father Golden. He looked at a +portrait that stood on his desk, a framed photograph of Mother Golden.</p> + +<p>"I'll speak to the child, Mary," he said. "I'll see that this does +not happen again. What is it, Ruthie?"</p> + +<p>"I was looking for Mary, father. I wanted—oh, Mary! what shall I do +with Benny? he has tied Rover and the cat together by their tails, +and they are rushing all about the garden almost crazy. I must +finish this work, so I can't attend to it. He says he is playing +Samson. I wish you would speak to him, father."</p> + +<p>"I will do so, Ruth, I will do so. Don't be distressed, my daughter."</p> + +<p>"But he is so naughty, father! he is so different from the other boys. +Joe never used to play such tricks when he was little."</p> + +<p>"The spring vacation will be over soon now, Ruth," said Sister Mary. +"He is always better when he is at work, and there is so little for +a boy to do just at this time of year."</p> + +<p>"I left Joe trying to catch the poor creatures," said Ruth. +"Here he comes now."</p> + +<p>Joe, a tall lad of seventeen, entered with a face of tragedy.</p> + +<p>"Any harm done, Joseph?" asked Father Golden, glancing at the +portrait on his desk.</p> + +<p>"It's that kid again, father!" said Joe. "Poor old Rover—"</p> + +<p>"Father knows about that, Joe!" said Mary, gently.</p> + +<p>"Did you get them apart?" cried Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did, but not till they had smashed most of the glass in the +kitchen windows, and trampled all over Mary's geraniums. Something +has got to be done about that youngster, father. He's getting to be +a perfect nuisance."</p> + +<p>"I am thinking of doing something about him, son Joseph," said Father +Golden. "Are your brothers in the house?"</p> + +<p>"I think I heard them come in just now, sir. Do you want to see them?"</p> + +<p>Apparently Adam and Lemuel wanted to see their father, for they +appeared in the doorway at this moment: quiet-looking men, with grave, +"set" faces; the hair already beginning to edge away from their +temples.</p> + +<p>"You are back early from the office, boys!" said Father Golden.</p> + +<p>"We came as soon as we got the message," said Adam. "I hope nothing +is wrong, father."</p> + +<p>"What message, Adam?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't you send for us? Benny came running in, all out of breath, +and said you wished to see us at once. If he has been playing tricks +again—"</p> + +<p>Adam's grave face darkened into sternness. The trick was too evident.</p> + +<p>"Something must be done about that boy, father!" he said. "He is the +torment of the whole family."</p> + +<p>"No one can live a day in peace!" said Lemuel.</p> + +<p>"No dumb creature's life is safe!" said Joe.</p> + +<p>"He breaks everything he lays hands on," said Ruth, "and he won't +keep his hands off anything."</p> + +<p>"You were all little once, boys!" said Mary.</p> + +<p>"We never behaved in this kind of way!" said the brothers, sedate +from their cradles. "Something must be done!"</p> + +<p>"You are right," said Father Golden. "Something must be done."</p> + +<p>Glancing once more at the portrait of Mother Golden, he turned and +faced his children with grave looks.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sons and daughters!" said the old man. "I have something +to say to you."</p> + +<p>The young people obeyed, wondering, but not questioning. Father +Golden was head of the house.</p> + +<p>"You all come to me," said Father Golden, "with complaints of little +Benjamin. It is singular that you should come to-day, for I have +been waiting for this day to speak to you about the child myself."</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment; then added, weighing his words slowly, as +was his wont when much in earnest, "Ten years ago to-day, that child +was left on our door-step."</p> + +<p>The brothers and sisters uttered an exclamation, half surprised, +half acquiescent.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem so long!" said Adam.</p> + +<p>"It seems longer!" said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I keep forgetting he came that way!" murmured Joe.</p> + +<p>"I felt doubtful about taking him in," Father Golden went on. +"But your mother wished it; you all wished it. We decided to keep +him for a spell, and give him a good start in life, and we have kept +him till now."</p> + +<p>"Of course we have kept him!" said Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Naturally!" said Lemuel.</p> + +<p>Adam and Mary said nothing, but looked earnestly at their father.</p> + +<p>"Little Benjamin is now ten years old, more or less," said Father +Golden. "You are men and women grown; even Joseph is seventeen. Your +mother has entered into the rest that is reserved for the people of +God, and I am looking forward in the hope that, not through any +merit of mine, but the merciful grace of God, I may soon be called +to join her. Adam and Lemuel, you are settled in the business, and +looking forward to making homes of your own with worthy young women. +Joseph is going to college, which is a new thing in our family, but +one I approve, seeing his faculty appears to lie that way. Ruth will +make a first-rate dressmaker, I am told by those who know. Mary—"</p> + +<p>His quiet voice faltered. Mary took his hand and kissed it +passionately; a sob broke from her, and she turned her face away +from the brothers and sister who loved but did not understand her. +They looked at her with grave compassion, but no one would have +thought of interrupting Father Golden.</p> + +<p>"Mary, you are the home-maker," the old man went on. "I hope that +when I am gone this home will still be here, with you at the head of +it. You are your mother's own daughter; there is no more to say." He +was silent for a time, and then continued.</p> + +<p>"There remains little Benjamin, a child of ten years. He is no kin +to us; an orphan, or as good as one; no person has ever claimed him, +or ever will. The time has come to decide what shall be done with +the child."</p> + +<p>Again he paused, and looked around. The serious young faces were all +intent upon him; in some, the intentness seemed deepening into +trouble, but no one spoke or moved.</p> + +<p>"We have done all that we undertook to do for him, that night we +took him in, and more. We have brought him—I should say your mother +brought him—through his sickly days; we 'most lost him, you remember, +when he was two years old, with the croup—and he is now a healthy, +hearty child, and will likely make a strong man. He has been well +treated, well fed and clothed, maybe better than he would have been +by his own parents if so't had been. He is turning out wild and +mischievous, though he has a good heart, none better; and you all, +except Mary, come to me with complaints of him.</p> + +<p>"Now, this thing has gone far enough. One of two things: either this +boy is to be sent away to some institution, to take his place among +other orphans and foundlings, or—he must be one of you for now and +always, to share alike with you while I live, to be bore with and +helped by each and every one of you as if he was your own blood, and +to have his share of the property when I am gone. Sons and daughters, +this question is for you to decide. I shall say nothing. My life is +'most over, yours is just beginning. I have no great amount to leave +you, but 'twill be comfortable so far as it goes. Benjamin has +one-sixth of that, and becomes my own son, to be received and +treated by you as your own brother, or he goes."</p> + +<p>Mary hid her face in her hands. Adam walked to the window and looked +out; but the other three broke out into a sudden, hurried clamor, +strangely at variance with their usual staid demeanor.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, we couldn't let him go!"</p> + +<p>"Why, father, I can't think what you mean!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure, sir, we never thought of such a thing as sending him away. +Why, he's our Ben."</p> + +<p>"Good enough little kid, only mischievous."</p> + +<p>"Needs a little governing, that's all. Mary spoils him; no harm in +him, not a mite."</p> + +<p>"And the lovingest little soul! the minute he found that Kitty's paw +was cut, he sat down and cried—"</p> + +<p>"I guess if Benny went, I'd go after him pretty quick!" said Joseph, +who had been loudest in his complaint against the child.</p> + +<p>Mary looked up and smiled through her tears. "Joe, your heart is in +the right place!" she said. "I finished your shirts this morning, +dear; I'm going to begin on your slippers to-night."</p> + +<p>"Well, but, father—"</p> + +<p>"Father dear, about little Benny—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—poor little Ben!"</p> + +<p>"Go easy!" said Father Golden; and his face, as he looked from one +to the other, was as bright as his name.</p> + +<p>"Why, children, you're real excited. I don't want excitement, nor +crying—Mary, daughter, I knew how you would feel, anyway. I want a +serious word, 'go,' or 'stay,' from each one of you; a word that +will last your lives long. I'll begin with the youngest, because +that was your mother's way. She always said the youngest was nearest +heaven. Joseph, what is your word about little Benjamin?"</p> + +<p>"Stay, of course!" cried Joe. "Benny does tease me, but I should be +nowhere without him."</p> + +<p>"Ruth! you seemed greatly tried just now. Think what you are going +to say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course he must stay, father. Why, the child is the life of +the house. We are all so humdrum and mopy, I don't know what we +should do without Benny to keep us moving."</p> + +<p>"Mary, daughter—not that I need your answer, my dear."</p> + +<p>"He is the only child I shall ever have!" said Mary, simply.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment, and all thought of the grave where +her young heart had laid its treasure.</p> + +<p>"Lemuel!"</p> + +<p>"I've been hard on the child, Father!" said Lemuel. "He's so +different from the rest of us, and he does try me. But mother loved +him, and down at the bottom we all do, I guess. I say 'stay,' too, +and I'll try to be more of a brother to him from now on."</p> + +<p>"Son Adam, I have left you the longest time to reflect," said Father +Golden. "You are the oldest, and when I am gone it will be on you +and Mary that the heft of the care will come. Take all the time you +want, and then give us your word!"</p> + +<p>Adam turned round; his face was very grave, but he spoke cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"I have had time enough, Father," he said. "I was the first that +heard that little voice, ten years ago, and the first, except mother, +that saw the child; 'twould be strange if I were the one to send him +away. He came in Christ's name, and in that name I bid him stay."</p> + +<p>"Amen!" said Father Golden.</p> + +<p>A silence followed; but it was broken soon by a lively whistle, +shrilling out a rollicking tune; the next moment a boy came running +into the room. Curly, rosy, dirty, ragged, laughing, panting, little +Benjamin stood still and looked round on all the earnest, serious +faces.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, all you folks?" he asked. "I should think you +was all in meeting, and sermon just beginning. Ruth, I tied up +Kitty's leg all right; and I'll dig greens to pay for the glass, Joe. +Say, Bro'rer-Adam-an'-Lem (Benny pronounced this as if it were one +word), did you forget it was April Fool's Day? Didn't I fool you good? +And—say! there's a fierce breeze and my new kite's a buster. Who'll +come out and fly her with me?"</p> + +<p>"I will, Benny!" said Adam, Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph.</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="alonzo"></a> +<br><br> + +<center><h2> +DON ALONZO</h2> +</center> +<br> +<p> +"Don Alonzo! Don Alonzo Pitkin! Where be you?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"Don Alonzo! Deacon Bassett's here, and wishful to see you. Don +Alonzo Pit-<i>kin</i>!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe Pitkin stood at the door a moment, waiting; then she shook +her shoulders with a despairing gesture, and went back into the +sitting-room. "I don't know where he is, Deacon Bassett," she said. +"There! I'm sorry; but he's so bashful, Don Alonzo is, he'll creep +off and hide anywheres sooner than see folks. I do feel mortified, +but I can't seem to help it, no way in the world."</p> + +<p>"No need to, Mis' Pitkin," said Deacon Bassett, rising slowly and +reaching for his hat. "No need to. I should have been pleased to see +Don 'Lonzo, and ask if he got benefit from those pills I left for him +last time I called; what he wants is to doctor reg'lar, and keep +straight on doctorin'. But I can call again; and I felt it a duty to +let you know what's goin' on at your own yard-gate, I may say. Mis' +Pegrum's house ain't but a stone's throw from yourn, is it? Well, +I'll be wishing you good day, and I hope Joseph will be home before +there's any trouble. I don't suppose you've noticed whether Don +Alonzo has growed any, sence he took those pills?"</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't!" said Mrs. Pitkin, shortly. "Good day, Deacon Bassett."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can call again," she added, mentally, as she watched the +deacon making his way slowly down the garden walk, stopping the +while to inspect every plant that looked promising. "You can call +again, but you will not see him, if you come every day. It does beat +all, the way folks can't let that boy alone. Talk about his being +cranky! I'd be ten times as cranky as he is, if I was pestered by +every old podogger that's got stuff to sell."</p> + +<p>She closed the door, and addressed the house, apparently empty and +still. "He's gone!" she said, speaking rather loudly, "Don 'Lonzo, +he's gone, and you can come out. I expect you're hid somewheres +about here, for I didn't hear you go out."</p> + +<p>There was no sound. She opened the door of the ground-floor bedroom +and looked in. All was tidy and pleasant as usual. Every mat lay in +its place; the chairs were set against the wall as she loved to see +them; the rows of books, the shelves of chemicals, at which she +hardly dared to look, and which she never dared to touch for fear +something would "go off" and kill her instantly, the specimens in +their tall glass jars, the case of butterflies, all were in their +place; but there was no sign of life in the room, save the canary in +the window.</p> + +<p>"Deacon Bassett's gone!" she said, speaking to the canary.</p> + +<p>There was a scuffling sound from under the bed; the valance was +lifted, and a head emerged cautiously.</p> + +<p>"I tell you he's gone!" repeated Mira Pitkin, rather impatiently. +"Come out, Don Alonzo! There! you are foolish, I must say!"</p> + +<p>The head came out, followed by a figure. The figure was that of a +boy of twelve, but the head belonged to a youth of seventeen. The +rounded shoulders, the sharp features, the dark, sunken eyes, all +told a tale of suffering; Don Alonzo Pitkin was a hunchback.</p> + +<p>His pretty, silly mother had given him the foolish name which seemed +a perpetual mockery of his feeble person. She had found it in an old +romance, and had only wavered between it and Señor Gonzalez,—which +she pronounced Seener Gon-zallies,—the other dark-eyed hero of the +book. Perhaps she pictured to herself her baby growing up into such +another lofty, black-plumed hidalgo as those whose magnificent +language and mustachios had so deeply impressed her. It was true +that she herself had pinkish eyes and white eyelashes, while her +husband was familiarly known as "Carrots,"—but what of that?</p> + +<p>But he had a fall, this poor baby,—a cruel fall, from the +consequences of which no high-sounding name could save him; and then +presently the little mother died, and the father married again.</p> + +<p>The boy's childhood had been a sad one, and all the happiness he had +known had been lately, since his elder brother married. Big, +good-natured Joe Pitkin, marrying the prettiest girl in the village, +had been sore at heart, even in his new-wedded happiness, at the +thought of leaving the deformed, sensitive boy alone with the +careless father and the shrewish stepmother. But his young wife had +been the first to say:</p> + +<p>"Let Don Alonzo come and live with us, Joe! Where there is room for +two, there is room for three, and that boy wants to be made of!"</p> + +<p>So the strong, cheerful, wholesome young woman took the sickly lad +into her house and heart, and "made of him," to use her own quaint +phrase; and she became mother and sister and sweetheart, all in one, +to Don Alonzo.</p> + +<p>Now she stood looking at him, shaking her head, yet smiling. +"Don 'Lonzo, how can you behave so?" she asked. "This is the third +time Deacon Bassett has been here to see you, and he's coming again; +and what be I to say to him next time he comes? You can't go through +life without seeing folks, you know."</p> + +<p>Don Alonzo shook his shoulders, and pretended to look for dust on +his coat. He would have been deeply mortified to find any, for he +took care of his own room, and prided himself, with reason, on its +neatness. Also, the space beneath his bedstead was cupboard as well +as hiding-place.</p> + +<p>"He troubles me," he said, meekly. "Deacon Bassett troubles me more +than any of 'em. Did he ask if I'd grown any?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he did," Mira admitted. "But I expect he didn't mean anything +by it."</p> + +<p>"He's asked that ever since I can remember," said Don Alonzo; +"and I'm weary of it. There! And then he says that if I would only +take his Green Elixir three times a day for three months, I'd grow +like a sapling willow. He hopes to make his living out of me, yet!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pitkin laughed, comfortably, and smoothed the lad's hair back +with a motherly touch. "All the same," she said, "you must quit +hiding under the bed when folks come to call, Don 'Lonzo. You don't +want 'em to think I treat you bad, and keep you out o' sight, so's +they'll not find it out." Then, seeing the boy's face flush with +distress, she added, hastily, "Besides, you're getting to be 'most a +man now; I want strangers should know there's men-folks about the +place, now Joe's away. There's burglars in town, Don 'Lonzo, and we +must look out and keep things shut up close, nights."</p> + +<p>"Burglars!" repeated the youth.</p> + +<p>"Yes; Deacon Bassett was telling me about 'em just now. I guess +likely half what he came for was to give me a good scare, knowing +Joe was away. Now, ain't I uncharitable! 'Twas just as likely to be +a friendly warning. Anyway, he was telling me they came through from +Tupham Corner day before yesterday, and they've been lurking and +spying round."</p> + +<p>"Some boys saw them, coming through Green Gully, and were scared to +death at their looks; they said they were big, black-looking men, +strangers to these parts; and they swore at the boys and ordered 'em +off real ugly. Nobody else has seen them in honest daylight, but +they broke into Dan'l Brown's house last night. He's deaf, you know, +and didn't hear a sound. They came right into the room where he +slept,—Deacon Bassett was there the next day, and saw their tracks all +over the floor,—and took ten dollars out of his pants pocket. The +pants was hanging right beside the bed, and they turned them clean +inside out, and Dan'l never stirred."</p> + +<p>"My, oh!" exclaimed Don Alonzo.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's terrible!" Mira went on. "Then, last night, they got into +Mis' Pegrum's house, too. She's a lone woman, you know, same as +Dan'l is a man. Seems as if they had took note of every house where +there wasn't plenty of folks to be stirring and taking notice. They +got into the pantry window, and took every living thing she had to +eat. They might do that, and still go hungry, Deacon Bassett says; +you know there's always been a little feeling between him and Mis' +Pegrum; her cat and his hens—it's an old story. Well, and she did +hear a noise, and came out into the kitchen, and there sat two great, +black men, eating her best peach preserves, and the cake she'd made +for the Ladies' Aid, to-day. She was so scare't, she couldn't speak +a word; and they just laughed and told her to go back to bed, and +she went. Poor-spirited, it seems, but I don't know as I should have +done a bit better in her place. There! I wish Joe'd come back! I +feel real nervous, hearing about it all. Oh, and her gold watch, too, +they got, and three solid silver teaspoons that belonged to her +mother. She's sick abed, Deacon Bassett says, and I don't wonder. I +don't feel as if I should sleep a wink to-night!"</p> + +<p>The color came into Don Alonzo's thin cheeks. "There sha'n't no one +do you any hurt while I'm round, Mira!" he said; and for a moment he +forgot his deformity, and straightened his poor shoulders, and held +up his head like a man.</p> + +<p>There was no shade of amusement in Mira Pitkin's honest smile. +"I expect you'd be as brave as a lion, Don 'Lonzo," she said. +"I expect you'd shoo 'em right out of the yard, same as you did the +turkey gobbler when he run at my red shawl; don't you remember? But +all the same, I hope they will not come; and I shall be glad to see +Joe back again."</p> + +<p>At that moment the lad caught sight of himself in the little +looking-glass that hung over his chest of drawers. Mira, watching him, +saw the sparkle go out of his eyes, saw his shoulders droop, and his +head sink forward; and she said, quickly:</p> + +<p>"But there! we've said enough about the burglars, I should think! +How's the experiments, Don 'Lonzo? I heard an awful fizzing going on, +just before Deacon Bassett came in. I expect you've got great things +hidden under that bed; I expect there's other perils round besides +burglars! Joe may come back and find us both blown into kindlin'-wood, +after all!"</p> + +<p>This was a favorite joke of theirs; she had the pleasure of seeing a +smile come into the boy's sad eyes; then, with another of those +motherly touches on his hair, she went away, singing, to her work.</p> + +<p>Don Alonzo looked after her. From the way his eyes followed her, she +might have been a glorified saint in robe and crown, instead of a +rosy-cheeked young woman in a calico gown. "There sha'n't nothing +hurt her while I'm round!" he muttered again.</p> + +<p>The night fell, dark and cloudy. Mrs. Pitkin went to bed early, +after shaking every door and trying every window to make sure that +all was safe. Don Alonzo went through the same process twice after +she was gone, but he did not feel like sleeping, himself. He lay +down on his bed, but his thoughts seemed dancing from one thing to +another,—to Brother Joe, travelling homeward now, he hoped, after a +week's absence; to Mira's goodness, her patience with his wayward +self, her kindness in letting him mess with chemicals, and turn the +shed into a laboratory, and frighten her with explosions; to Dan'l +Brown and Mis' Pegrum and the burglars.</p> + +<p>Ah, the burglars! What could he do, if they should really come to +the house? They were two men, probably well-grown; he—he knew what +he was! How could he carry out his promise to Mira, if she should be +in actual danger? Not by strength, clearly; but there must be some +way; bodily strength was not the only thing in the world. He looked +about him, seeking for inspiration; his eyes, wandering here and +there, lighted upon something, then remained fixed. The room was +dimly lighted by a small lamp, but the corners were dark, and in one +of these dark corners something was shining with a faint, uncertain +light. The phosphorescent match-box! He had made it himself, and had +ornamented it with a grotesque face in luminous paint. This face now +glimmered and glowered at him from the darkness; and Don Alonzo lay +still and looked back at it. Lying so and looking, there crept into +his mind an old story that he had once read; and he laughed to +himself, and then nodded at the glimmering face. "Thank you, old +fellow!" said Don Alonzo.</p> + +<p>Was there a noise? Was it his imagination, or did a branch snap, a +twig rustle down the road? The hunchback had ears like a fox, and in +an instant he was at the window, peering out into the darkness. At +first he could see nothing; but gradually the lilac bushes at the +gate came into sight, and the clumps of flowers in the little garden +plot. Not a breath was stirring, yet—hark! Again a twig snapped, a +branch crackled; and now again! and nearer each time. Don Alonzo +strained his eyes to pierce the darkness. Were those bushes, those +two shapes by the gate? They were not there a moment ago. Ha! they +moved; they were coming nearer. Their feet made no sound on the +soft earth, but his sharp ears caught a new sound,—a whisper, faint, +yet harsh, like a hiss. Don Alonzo had seen and heard enough. He +left the window, and the next moment was diving under the bed.</p> + +<hr> + +<p>Mira Pitkin usually slept like a child, from the moment her head +touched the pillow till the precise second when something woke in +her brain and said "Five o'clock!" But to-night her sleep was broken. +She tossed and muttered in her dreams; and suddenly she sat up in bed +with eyes wide open and a distinct sense of something wrong. Her +first thought was of fire; she sniffed; the air was pure and clear. +Then, like a cry in her ears, came—"The burglars!" She held her +breath and listened; was the night as still as it was dark? No! a +faint, steady sound came to her ears. A mouse, was it, or—the sound +of a tool?</p> + +<p>And then, almost noiselessly, a window was opened, the window of the +upper entry, next her room. Mira was at her own window in an instant, +raising it; that, too, opened silently, for Joe was a carpenter and +detested noisy windows. She peered out into the thick darkness. Black, +black! Was the blackness deeper there, just at the front door? +Surely it was! Surely something, somebody, was busy with the lock of +the door; and then she heard, as Don Alonzo had heard, a low sound +like a hiss, beside the soft scraping of the tool. What should she do? +The windows were fast, there was a bar and chain inside the door, +but what of that? Two desperate men could force an entrance anywhere +in a moment. What could she do, a woman, with only a sickly boy to +help her? And—who had opened that upper window? Was there a third +accomplice—for she thought she could see two spots of deeper +blackness by the door—hidden in the house? Oh, if only Joe had +borrowed his father's old pistol for her, as she had begged him to do!</p> + +<p>Mira opened her lips to shout, in the hope of rousing the nearest +neighbors, though they were not very near. Opened her lips—but no +sound came from them. For at that instant something appeared at the +window next her own; something stepped from it, out on to the little +porch over the front door. Mira Pitkin gasped, and felt her heart +fail within her. A skeleton! Every limb outlined in pale fire, the +bony fingers points of wavering flame. What awful portent was this? +The Thing paused and turned, a frightful face gazed at her for an +instant, a hand waved, then the Thing dropped, silent as a shadow, on +that spot of deeper blackness that was stooping at the front door.</p> + +<p>Then rose an outcry wild and hideous. The burglar shouted hoarsely, +and tried to shake off the Thing that sat on his shoulders, gripping +his neck with hands of iron, digging his sides with bony knees and +feet; but the second thief, who saw by what his comrade was ridden, +shrieked in pure animal terror, uttering unearthly sounds that cut +the air like a knife. For a moment he could only stand and shriek; +then he turned and fled through the yard, and the other fled after +him, the glimmering phantom clutching him tight. Down the road they +fled. Mira could now see nothing save the riding Thing, apparently +horsed on empty air; but now she saw it, still clutching close with +its left hand, raise the right, holding what looked like a shining +snake, and bring it down hissing and curling. Again, and again! and +with every blow the shrieks grew more and more hideous, till now +they had reached the cluster of houses at the head of the street, +and every window was flung open, and lights appeared, and voices +clamored in terror and amaze. The village was roused; and now—now, +the glimmering skeleton was seen to loose its hold. It dropped from +its perch, and turning that awful face toward her once more, came +loping back, silent as a shadow. But when she saw that, Mira Pitkin, +for the first and last time in her sensible life, fainted away.</p> + +<p>When she came to herself, the skeleton was bending over her anxiously, +but its face was no longer frightful; it was white and anxious, and +the eyes that met hers were piteous with distress.</p> + +<p>"My, oh!" cried Don Alonzo. "I vowed no one should do her any hurt, +and now I've done it myself."</p> + +<p>There was little sleep in the Pitkin house that night. The neighbors +came flocking in with cries and questions; and when all was explained, +Don Alonzo found himself the hero of the hour. For once he did not +hide under the bed, but received everybody—from Deacon Bassett down +to the smallest boy who came running in shirt and trousers, +half-awake, and athirst for marvels—with modest pride, and told +over and over again how it all happened.</p> + +<p>'Twas no great thing, he maintained. He had fooled considerable with +phosphorus, and had some of the luminous paint that he had mixed +some time before. Thinking about these fellows, he remembered a +story he read once, where they painted up a dead body to scare away +some murdering robbers. He thought a living person was as good as a +dead one, any day; so he tried it on, and it appeared to succeed. He +didn't think likely those men would stop short of the next township, +from the way they were running when he got down. Oh, the snake? That +was Joe's whip. He presumed likely it hurt some, from the way they +yelled.</p> + +<p>But the best of all was when Joe came home, the very next day, and +when, the three of them sitting about the supper-table, Mira herself +told the great story, from the first moment of Deacon Bassett's +visit down to the triumphant close—"And I see him coming back, +shining like a corpse-candle, and I fell like dead on the floor!"</p> + +<p>"There!" she continued, beaming across the table at Joe, as she +handed him his fourth cup of coffee, "you may go away again whenever +you're a mind to; I sha'n't be afraid. You ain't half the man Don +'Lonzo is!"</p> + +<p>"I don't expect I be!" said big Joe, beaming back again.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Don Alonzo that their smiles made the kitchen warm as +June, though October was falling cold that year.</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="shed"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +THE SHED CHAMBER</h2> +</center> +<br> +<p> +"Well, I once answered an advertisement in the <i>Farmer's Friend</i>, +girls, and I have always been glad I did. It was that summer when +father broke his arm and the potato crop failed, and everything +seemed to be going wrong on the farm. There were plenty of girls to +do the work at home, and I thought I ought to get something outside +to do if I could. I tried here and there, but without success; at +last my eye caught a notice in the <i>Farmer's Friend</i>, just the same +kind of notice as that you are speaking of, Lottie: 'Wanted, a +capable, steady girl to assist in housework and take care of children. +Address, with reference, A. B. C., Dashville.' I talked it over with +mother, and she agreed with me; father didn't take so kindly to the +idea, naturally; he likes to have us all at home, especially in +summer. However, he said I might do as I pleased; so I answered the +notice and sent a letter from our pastor, saying what he thought of +me. I was almost ashamed to send it, too; he has always been more +than kind to me, you know; if I'd been his own daughter he couldn't +have said more. Well, they wrote for me to come, and I went.</p> + +<p>"Girls, it was pretty hard when it came to that part, leaving the +house, and mother standing in the doorway trying not to look anxious, +and father fretting and saying it was all nonsense, and he shouldn't +have hands enough to pick the apples. Of course he knew I knew better, +but I was glad he didn't want me to go, after all. Sister Nell and +Sister Margie had packed my trunk, and they were as excited as I was, +and almost wished they were going instead, but not quite, I think; +and so Joe whistled to old Senator, and I waved my handkerchief, and +mother and the two girls waved their aprons, and off I went.</p> + +<p>"I didn't really feel alone till I was in the train and had lost +sight of Joe standing and smoothing Senator's mane and nodding at me; +then the world seemed very big and Tupham Corner a very small corner +in it. I will not say anything more about this part; you'll find it +out soon enough yourselves, when you go away from home the first time.</p> + +<p>"It was a long journey, or it seemed so then; but everything comes +to an end some time, and there was plenty of daylight left for me to +see my new home when I arrived. It was a pleasant-looking house, +long and rambling, painted yellow, too, which made me more homesick +than ever. There were two children standing in the doorway, and +presently Mr. Bowles came out and shook hands with me and helped me +down with my things. He was a kind, sensible-looking man, and he +made the children come and speak to me and shake hands. They were +shy then and hung back, and put their fingers in their mouths; I +knew just how they felt. I wanted to hang back, too, when he took me +into the house to see Mrs. Bowles. She was an invalid, he told me, +and could not leave her room.</p> + +<p>"Girls, the minute I saw that sweet, pale face, with the look of +pain and patience in it, I knew what I had come for. I do think we +understood each other from the first minute, Mrs. Bowles and I; for +she held my hand a good while, looking into my face and I into hers, +and she must have seen how sorry I was for her, and how I hoped I +could help her; for when I went into the kitchen I heard her say, +with a little sigh, as she lay back again, 'O John, I do believe +this is the right one at last!' You may believe I made up my mind +that I would be the right one, Lottie!</p> + +<p>"That kitchen was in a scandalous condition. It was well I had seen +Mrs. Bowles first or I should have wanted to run away that very +minute. The eldest little girl—it seems strange to think that there +ever was a time when I didn't know Barbara's name!—followed me out,—I +think her father told her to,—and rubbed along against the wall, +just exactly as I used to when I felt shy. When I asked her a little +about where things were, and so on—they were everywhere and nowhere; +you never saw such a looking place in your life!—she took her +finger out of her mouth, and pretty soon I told her about our yellow +coon kittens, and after that we got on very well. She said they had +had one girl after another, each worse than the last. The shoe +factory had taken off all the good help and left only the incapable +ones. The last one, Barbara said, had almost starved them, and been +saucy to Mrs. Bowles, and dirty—well, there was no need to tell me +that. It was a shame to see good things so destroyed; for the things +were good, only all dirty and broken, and—oh, well! there's no use +in telling about that part.</p> + +<p>"I asked when her mother had had anything to eat, and she said not +since noon; I knew that was no way for an invalid to be taken care of, +so I put the kettle on and hunted about till I found a cup and saucer +I liked, and then I found the bread-box—oh, dear! that bread-box, +girls! But the mold scraped right off, and the bread wasn't really +bad; I made some toast and cut the crust off, and put just a thin +scrape of butter on it; then I sent Barbara in with a little tray +and told her to see that her mother took it all. I thought she'd +feel more like taking it from the child than from a stranger, if she +hadn't much appetite. My dears, the child came out again in a few +minutes, her face all alight.</p> + +<p>"'She drank it all, every drop!' she cried. 'And now she's eating +the toast. She said how did you know, and she cried, but now she's +all right. Father 'most cried, too, I think. Say!'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, dear.'</p> + +<p>"'Father says the Lord sent you. Did he?'"</p> + + +<a name="father"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="3w_Lordsent.jpg (103K)" src="images/3w_Lordsent.jpg" height="1071" width="669"> +<br> +<p>["'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'"]</p> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"I nodded, for I couldn't say anything that minute. I kissed the +little girl and went on with my cleaning. Girls, don't ever grudge +the time you spend in learning to cook nicely. Food is what keeps the +breath of life in us, and it all depends upon us girls now, and later, +when we are older women, whether it is good or bad. No, Sue, I'm not +going to preach, but I shall never forget how that tired man and +those hungry children enjoyed their supper. 'Twas mother's supper, +every bit of it, from the light biscuit down to the ham omelette; I +found the ham bone in a dark cupboard, all covered with mold, like +the bread, but 'twas good and sweet underneath. I only wish mother +had been there to see them eat. After supper Mr. Bowles came and +shook hands with me. I didn't know then that he never used any more +words than he had to; but I was pleased, if I did think it funny.</p> + +<p>"I was tired enough by the time bedtime came, and after I had put +the children to bed and seen that Mrs. Bowles was comfortable, and +had water and crackers and a candle beside her—she was a very poor +sleeper—I was glad enough to go to bed myself. Barbara showed me my +room, a pretty little room with sloping gables and windows down by +the floor. There were two doors, and I asked her where the other led +to. She opened it and said, 'The shed chamber.' I looked over her +shoulder, holding up the candle, and saw a great bare room, with +some large trunks in it, but no other furniture except a high +wardrobe. I liked the look of the place, for it was a little like +our play room in the attic at home; but I was too tired to explore, +and I was asleep in ten minutes from the time I had tucked up +Barbara in her bed, and Rob and Billy in their double crib.</p> + +<p>"I should take a week if I tried to tell you all about those first +days; and, after all, it is one particular thing that I started to +tell, only there is so much that comes back to me. In a few days I +felt that I belonged there, almost as much as at home; they were +that kind of people, and made me feel that they cared about me, and +not only about what I did. Mrs. Bowles has always been the best +friend I have in the world after my own folks; it didn't take us a +day to see into each other, and by and by it got to be so that I +knew what she wanted almost before she knew, herself.</p> + +<p>"At the end of the week Mr. Bowles said he ought to go away on +business for a few days, and asked her if she would feel safe to +stay with me and the children, or if he should ask his brother to +come and sleep in the house.</p> + +<p>"'No, indeed!' said Mrs. Bowles. 'I shall feel as safe with Nora as +if I had a regiment in the house; a good deal safer!' she added, and +laughed.</p> + +<p>"So it was settled, and the next day Mr. Bowles went away and I was +left in full charge. I suppose I rather liked the responsibility. I +asked Mrs. Bowles if I might go all over the house to see how +everything fastened, and she said, 'Of course.' The front windows +were just common windows, quite high up from the floor; but in the +shed chamber, as in my room, they opened near the floor, and there +was no very secure way of fastening them, it seemed to me. However, I +wasn't going to say anything to make her nervous, and that was the +way they had always had them. If I had only known!</p> + +<p>"After the children went to bed that evening I read to Mrs. Bowles +for an hour, and then I went to warm up a little cocoa for her; she +slept better if she took a drop of something hot the last thing. It +was about nine o'clock. I had just got into the kitchen, and was +going to light the lamp, when I heard the door open softly.</p> + +<p>"'Who's there?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'Only me,' said a girl's voice.</p> + +<p>"I lighted my lamp, and saw a girl about my own age, pretty, and +showily dressed. She said she was the girl who had left the house a +few days ago; she had forgotten something, and might she go up into +the shed chamber and get it? I told her to wait a minute, and went +and asked Mrs. Bowles. She said yes, Annie might go up. 'Annie was +careless and saucy,' she said, 'but I think she meant no harm. She +can go and get her things.'</p> + +<p>"I came back and told the girl, and she smiled and nodded. I did not +like her smile, I could not tell why. I started to go with her, but +she turned on me pretty sharply, and said she had been in the house +three months and didn't need to be shown the way by a stranger. I +didn't want to put myself forward, but no sooner had she run +up-stairs, and I heard her steps in the chamber above me, than +something seemed to be pushing, pushing me toward those stairs, +whether I would or no. I tried to hold back, and tell myself it was +nonsense, and that I was nervous and foolish; it made no difference, +I had to go up-stairs.</p> + +<p>"I went softly, my shoes making no noise. My own little room was dark, +for I had closed the blinds when the afternoon sun was pouring in +hot and bright; but a slender line of light lay across the blackness +like a long finger, and I knew the moon was shining in at the +windows of the shed chamber. I did a thing I had never done before +in my life; that silver finger came through the keyhole, and it drew +me to it. I knelt down and looked through.</p> + +<p>"The big room shone bare and white in the moonlight; the trunks +looked like great animals crouching along the walls. Annie stood in +the middle of the room, as if she were waiting or listening for +something. Then she slipped off her shoes and went to one of the +windows and opened it. I had fastened it, but the catch was old and +she knew the trick of it, of course. In another moment something +black appeared over the low sill; it was a man's head. My heart +seemed to stand still. She helped him, and he got in without making +a sound. He must have climbed up the big elm-tree which grew close +against the house. They stood whispering together for a few minutes, +but I could not hear a word.</p> + +<p>"The man was in stocking feet; he had an evil, coarse face, yet he +was good-looking, too, in a way. I thought the girl seemed frightened, +and yet pleased, too; and he seemed to be praising her, I thought, +and once he put his arms round her and kissed her. She went to the +wardrobe and opened it, but he shook his head; then she opened the +great cedar trunk, and he nodded, and measured it and got into it +and sat down. It was so deep that he could sit quite comfortably +with the cover down. Annie shut it and then opened it again.</p> + +<p>"I had seen all I wanted to see. I slipped down-stairs as I heard +her move toward the door; when she came down I was stirring my cocoa +on the stove, with my back to her. She came round and showed me a +bundle she had in her hand, and said she must be going now. I kept +my face in the shadow as well as I could, for I was afraid I might +not be able to look just as usual; but I spoke quietly, and asked +her if she had found everything, and wished her good night as +pleasantly as I knew how. All the while my head was in a whirl and +my heart beat so loud I thought she must have heard it. There was a +good deal of silver in the house, and I knew that Mr. Bowles had +drawn some money from the bank only a day or two before, to pay a +life-insurance premium.</p> + +<p>"I never listened to anything as I did to the sound of her footsteps; +even after they had died away, after she had turned the corner, a +good way off, I stood still, listening, not stirring hand or foot. +But when I no longer heard any sound my strength seemed to come back +with a leap, and I knew what I had to do. I told you my shoes made +no noise. I slipped up-stairs, through my own room, and into the shed +chamber. Girls, it lay so peaceful and bare in the white moonlight, +that for a moment I thought I must have dreamed it all.</p> + +<p>"It seemed half a mile to the farther end, where the great cedar +trunk stood. As I went a board creaked under my feet, and I +heard—or fancied I heard—a faint rustle inside the trunk. I began +to hum a tune, and moved about among the trunks, raising and +shutting the lids, as if I were looking for something. Now at last I +was beside the dreadful chest, and in another instant I had turned +the key. Then, girls, I flew! I knew the lock was a stout one and +the wood heavy and hard; it would take the man some time to get it +open from the inside, whatever tools he might have. I was +down-stairs in one breath, praying that I might be able to control my +voice so that it would not sound strange to the sick woman.</p> + +<p>"'Would you mind if I went out for a few minutes, Mrs. Bowles? The +moonlight is so lovely I thought I would like to take a little walk, +if there is nothing you want.'</p> + +<p>"She looked surprised, but said in her kind way, yes, certainly I +might go, only I'd better not go far.</p> + +<p>"I thanked her, and walked quietly out to the end of the garden walk; +then I ran! Girls, I had no idea I could run so! Strength seemed +given me, for I never felt my body. I was like a spirit flying or a +wind blowing. The road melted away before me, and all the time I saw +two things before my eyes as plain as I see you now,—the evil-faced +man working away at the lock of the cedar chest, and the sweet lady +sitting in the room below with her Bible on her knee. Yes, I thought +of the children, too, but it seemed to me no one, not even the +wickedest, could wish to hurt a child. So on I ran!</p> + +<p>"I reached the first house, but I knew there was no man there, only +two nervous old ladies. At the next house I should find two men, +George Brett and his father.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Lottie, my George, but I had never seen him then. He had only +lately come back from college. The first I saw of him was two +minutes later, when I ran almost into his arms as he came out of the +house. I can see him now, in the moonlight, tall and strong, with +his surprised eyes on me. I must have been a wild figure, I suppose. +I could hardly speak, but somehow I made him understand.</p> + +<p>"He turned back to the door and shouted to his father, who came +hurrying out; then he looked at me. 'Can you run back?' he asked.</p> + +<p>"I nodded. I had no breath for words but plenty for running, I +thought.</p> + +<p>"'Come on, then!'</p> + +<p>"Girls, it was twice as easy running with that strong figure beside +me. I noticed in all my hurry and distress how easily he ran, and I +felt my feet, that had grown heavy in the last few steps, light as +air again. Once I sobbed for breath, and he took my hand as we ran, +saying, 'Courage, brave girl!' We ran on hand in hand, and I never +failed again. We heard Mr. Brett's feet running, not far behind; he +was a strong, active man, but could not quite keep up with us.</p> + +<p>"As we neared the house, 'Quiet,' I said; 'Mrs. Bowles does not know.'"</p> + +<p>He nodded, and we slipped in at the back door. In an instant his +shoes were off and he was up the back stairs like a cat, and I after +him. As we entered the shed chamber the lid of the cedar trunk rose.</p> + +<p>I saw the gleam of the evil black eyes and the shine of white, +wolfish teeth. Without a sound George Brett sprang past me; without +a sound the robber leaped to meet him. I saw them in the white light +as they clinched and stood locked together; then a mist came before +my eyes and I saw nothing more.</p> + +<p>"I did not actually faint, I think; it cannot have been more than a +few minutes before I came to myself. But when I looked again George +was kneeling with his knee on the man's breast, holding him down, +and Father Brett was looking about the chamber and saying, in his +dry way, 'Now where in Tunkett is the clothes-line to tie this fellow?'</p> + +<p>"And the girl? Annie? O girls, she was so young! She was just my own +age and she had no mother. I went to see her the next day, and many +days after that. We are fast friends now, and she is a good, steady +girl; and no one knows—no one except our two selves and two +others—that she was ever in the shed chamber."</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="maine"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +MAINE TO THE RESCUE</h2></center> +<br> +<p> +"Oh, dear! oh, dear! It's snowing!"</p> + +<p>"Hurrah! hurrah! It's snowing!"</p> + +<p>Massachusetts looked up from her algebra. She was the head of the +school. She was rosy and placid as the apple she was generally +eating when not in class. Apples and algebra were the things she +cared most about in school life.</p> + +<p>"Whence come these varying cries?" she said, taking her feet off the +fender and trying to be interested, though her thoughts went on with +"a 1/6 b =" etc.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Virginia is grumbling because it is snowing, and Maine is +feeling happy over it, that's all!" said Rhode Island, the smallest +girl in Miss Wayland's school.</p> + +<p>"Poor Virginia! It is rather hard on you to have snow in March, when +you have just got your box of spring clothes from home."</p> + +<p>"It is atrocious!" said Virginia, a tall, graceful, languishing girl. +"How could they send me to such a place, where it is winter all the +spring? Why, at home the violets are in blossom, the trees are coming +out, the birds singing—"</p> + +<p>"And at home," broke in Maine, who was a tall girl, too, but lithe +and breezy as a young willow, with flyaway hair and dancing brown +eyes, "at home all is winter—white, beautiful, glorious winter, +with ice two or three feet thick on the rivers, and great fields and +fields of snow, all sparkling in the sun, and the sky a vast +sapphire overhead, without a speck. Oh, the glory of it, the +splendor of it! And here—here it is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor +good red herring. A wretched, makeshift season, which they call +winter because they don't know what else to call it."</p> + +<p>"Come! come!" said Old New York, who was seventeen years old and had +her own ideas of dignity. "Let us alone, you two outsiders! We are +neither Eskimos nor Hindoos, it is true, but the Empire State would +not change climates with either of you."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed!" chimed in Young New York, who always followed her +leader in everything, from opinions down to hair-ribbons.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed!" repeated Virginia, with languid scorn. "Because you +couldn't get any one to change with you, my dear."</p> + +<p>Young New York reddened. "You are so disagreeable, Virginia!" she +said. "I am sure I am glad I don't have to live with you all the +year round—"</p> + +<p>"Personal remarks!" said Massachusetts, looking up calmly. "One cent, +Young New York, for the missionary fund. Thank you! Let me give you +each half an apple, and you will feel better."</p> + +<p>She solemnly divided a large red apple, and gave the halves to the +two scowling girls, who took them, laughing in spite of themselves, +and went their separate ways.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you let them have it out, Massachusetts?" said Maine, +laughing. "You never let any one have a good row."</p> + +<p>"Slang!" said Massachusetts, looking up again. "One cent for the +missionary fund. You will clothe the heathen at this rate, Maine. +That is the fourth cent to-day."</p> + +<p>"'Row' isn't slang!" protested Maine, feeling, however, for her +pocket-book.</p> + +<p>"Vulgar colloquial!" returned Massachusetts, quietly. "And perhaps +you would go away now, Maine, or else be quiet. Have you learned—"</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't!" said Maine. "I will do it very soon, dear Saint +Apple. I must look at the snow a little more."</p> + +<p>Maine went dancing off to her room, where she threw the window open +and looked out with delight. The girl caught up a double handful and +tossed it about, laughing for pure pleasure. Then she leaned out to +feel the beating of the flakes on her face.</p> + +<p>"Really quite a respectable little snowstorm!" she said, nodding +approval at the whirling white drift. "Go on, and you will be worth +while, my dear." She went singing to her algebra, which she could not +have done if it had not been snowing.</p> + +<p>The snow went on increasing from hour to hour. By noon the wind +began to rise; before night it was blowing a furious gale. Furious +blasts clutched at the windows, and rattled them like castanets. The +wind howled and shrieked and moaned, till it seemed as if the air +were filled with angry demons fighting to possess the square white +house.</p> + +<p>Many of the pupils of Miss Wayland's school came to the tea-table +with disturbed faces; but Massachusetts was as calm as usual, and +Maine was jubilant.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a glorious storm?" she cried, exultingly. "I didn't know +there could be such a storm in this part of the country, Miss Wayland. +Will you give me some milk, please?"</p> + +<p>"There is no milk, my dear," said Miss Wayland, who looked rather +troubled. "The milkman has not come, and probably will not come +to-night. There has never been such a storm here in my lifetime!" +she added. "Do you have such storms at home, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, indeed!" Maine said, cheerfully. "I don't know that we +often have so much wind as this, but the snow is nothing out of the +way. Why, on Palm Sunday last year our milkman dug through a drift +twenty feet deep to get at his cows. He was the only milkman who +ventured out, and he took me and the minister's wife to church in +his little red pung.</p> + +<p>"We were the only women in church, I remember. Miss Betsy Follansbee, +who had not missed going to church in fifteen years, started on foot, +after climbing out of her bedroom window to the shed roof and +sliding down. All her doors were blocked up, and she lived alone, so +there was no one to dig her out. But she got stuck in a drift about +half-way, and had to stay there till one of the neighbors came by +and pulled her out."</p> + +<p>All the girls laughed at this, and even Miss Wayland smiled; but +suddenly she looked grave again.</p> + +<p>"Hark!" she said, and listened. "Did you not hear something?"</p> + +<p>"We hear Boreas, Auster, Eurus, and Zephyrus," answered Old New York. +"Nothing else."</p> + +<p>At that moment there was a lull in the screeching of the wind; all +listened intently, and a faint sound was heard from without which +was not that of the blast.</p> + +<p>"A child!" said Massachusetts, rising quickly. "It is a child's voice. +I will go, Miss Wayland."</p> + +<p>"I cannot permit it, Alice!" cried Miss Wayland, in great distress. +"I cannot allow you to think of it. You are just recovering from a +severe cold, and I am responsible to your parents. What shall we do? +It certainly sounds like a child crying out in the pitiless storm. +Of course it <i>may</i> be a cat—"</p> + +<p>Maine had gone to the window at the first alarm, and now turned with +shining eyes.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> a child!" she said, quietly. "I have no cold, Miss Wayland. +I am going, of course."</p> + +<p>Passing by Massachusetts, who had started out of her usual calm and +stood in some perplexity, she whispered, "If it were freezing, it +wouldn't cry. I shall be in time. Get a ball of stout twine."</p> + +<p>She disappeared. In three minutes she returned, dressed in her +blanket coat, reaching half-way below her knees, scarlet leggings +and gaily wrought moccasins; on her head a fur cap, with a band of +sea-otter fur projecting over her eyes. In her hand she held a pair +of snow-shoes. She had had no opportunity to wear her snow-shoeing +suit all winter, and she was quite delighted.</p> + +<p>"My child!" said Miss Wayland, faintly. "How can I let you go? My +duty to your parents—what are those strange things, and what use +are you going to make of them?"</p> + +<p>By way of answer Maine slipped her feet into the snow-shoes, and, +with Massachusetts' aid, quickly fastened the thongs.</p> + +<p>"The twine!" she said. "Yes, that will do; plenty of it. Tie it to +the door-handle, square knot, so! I'm all right, dear; don't worry." +Like a flash the girl was gone out into the howling night.</p> + +<p>Miss Wayland wrung her hands and wept, and most of the girls wept +with her. Virginia, who was curled up in a corner, really sick with +fright, beckoned to Massachusetts.</p> + +<p>"Is there any chance of her coming back alive?" she asked, in a +whisper. "I wish I had made up with her. But we may all die in this +awful storm."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Massachusetts. "Try to have a little sense, Virginia! +Maine is all right, and can take care of herself; and as for +whimpering at the wind, when you have a good roof over your head, it +is too absurd."</p> + +<p>For the first time since she came to school Massachusetts forgot the +study hour, as did every one else; and in spite of her brave efforts +at cheerful conversation, it was a sad and an anxious group that sat +about the fire in the pleasant parlor.</p> + +<p>Maine went out quickly, and closed the door behind her; then stood +still a moment, listening for the direction of the cry. She did not +hear it at first, but presently it broke out—a piteous little wail, +sounding louder now in the open air. The girl bent her head to listen. +Where was the child? The voice came from the right, surely! She +would make her way down to the road, and then she could tell better.</p> + +<p>Grasping the ball of twine firmly, she stepped forward, planting the +broad snow-shoes lightly in the soft, dry snow. As she turned the +corner of the house an icy blast caught her, as if with furious hands, +shook her like a leaf, and flung her roughly against the wall.</p> + +<p>Her forehead struck the corner, and for a moment she was stunned; +but the blood trickling down her face quickly brought her to herself. +She set her teeth, folded her arms tightly, and stooping forward, +measured her strength once more with that of the gale.</p> + +<p>This time it seemed as if she were cleaving a wall of ice, which +opened only to close behind her. On she struggled, unrolling her +twine as she went.</p> + +<p>The child's cry sounded louder, and she took fresh heart. Pausing, +she clapped her hand to her mouth repeatedly, uttering a shrill, +long call. It was the Indian whoop, which her father had taught her +in their woodland rambles at home.</p> + +<p>The childish wail stopped; she repeated the cry louder and longer; +then shouted, at the top of her lungs, "Hold on! Help is coming!"</p> + +<p>Again and again the wind buffeted her, and forced her backward a +step or two; but she lowered her head, and wrapped her arms more +tightly about her body, and plodded on.</p> + +<p>Once she fell, stumbling over a stump; twice she ran against a tree, +for the white darkness was absolutely blinding, and she saw nothing, +felt nothing but snow, snow. At last her snow-shoe struck something +hard. She stretched out her hands—it was the stone wall. And now, +as she crept along beside it, the child's wail broke out again close +at hand.</p> + +<p>"Mother! O mother! mother!"</p> + +<p>The girl's heart beat fast.</p> + +<p>"Where are you?" she cried. At the same moment she stumbled against +something soft. A mound of snow, was it? No! for it moved. It moved +and cried, and little hands clutched her dress.</p> + +<p>She saw nothing, but put her hands down, and touched a little cold +face. She dragged the child out of the snow, which had almost +covered it, and set it on its feet.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" she asked, putting her face down close, while by +vigorous patting and rubbing she tried to give life to the benumbed, +cowering little figure, which staggered along helplessly, clutching +her with half-frozen fingers.</p> + +<p>"Benny Withers!" sobbed the child. "Mother sent me for the clothes, +but I can't get 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Benny Withers!" cried Maine. "Why, you live close by. Why didn't +you go home, child?"</p> + +<p>"I can't!" cried the boy. "I can't see nothing. I tried to get to +the school, an' I tried to get home, an' I can't get nowhere 'cept +against this wall. Let me stay here now! I want to rest me a little."</p> + +<p>He would have sunk down again, but Maine caught him up in her strong, +young arms.</p> + +<p>"Here, climb up on my back, Benny!" she said, cheerfully. "Hold on +tight round my neck, and you shall rest while I take you home. So! +That's a brave boy! Upsy, now! there you are! Now put your head on +my shoulder—close! and hold on!"</p> + +<p>Ah! how Maine blessed the heavy little brother at home, who <i>would</i> +ride on his sister's back, long after mamma said he was too big. How +she blessed the carryings up and down stairs, the "horsey rides" +through the garden and down the lane, which had made her shoulders +strong!</p> + +<p>Benny Withers was eight years old, but he was small and slender, and +no heavier than six-year-old Philip. No need of telling the child to +hold on, once he was up out of the cruel snow bed. He clung +desperately round the girl's neck, and pressed his head close +against the woollen stuff.</p> + +<p>Maine pulled her ball of twine from her pocket—fortunately it was a +large one, and the twine, though strong, was fine, so that there +seemed to be no end to it—and once more lowered her head, and set +her teeth, and moved forward, keeping close to the wall, in the +direction of Mrs. Withers's cottage.</p> + +<p>For awhile she saw nothing, when she looked up under the fringe of +otter fur, which, long and soft, kept the snow from blinding her; +nothing but the white, whirling drift which beat with icy, stinging +blows in her face. But at last her eyes caught a faint glimmer of +light, and presently a brighter gleam showed her Mrs. Withers's gray +cottage, now white like the rest of the world.</p> + +<p>Bursting open the cottage door, she almost threw the child into the +arms of his mother.</p> + +<p>The woman, who had been weeping wildly, could hardly believe her eyes. +She caught the little boy and smothered him with kisses, chafing his +cold hands, and crying over him.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know!" she said. "I didn't know till he was gone. I told +him at noon he was to go, never thinking 'twould be like this. I was +sure he was lost and dead, but I couldn't leave my sick baby. Bless +you, whoever you are, man or woman! But stay and get warm, and rest +ye! You're never going out again in this awful storm!"</p> + +<p>But Maine was gone.</p> + +<p>In Miss Wayland's parlor the suspense was fast becoming unendurable. +They had heard Maine's Indian whoop, and some of them, Miss Wayland +herself among the number, thought it was a cry of distress; but +Massachusetts rightly interpreted the call, and assured them that it +was a call of encouragement to the bewildered child.</p> + +<p>Then came silence within the house, and a prolonged clamor—a sort +of witches' chorus, with wailing and shrieking without. Once a heavy +branch was torn from one of the great elms, and came thundering down +on the roof. This proved the finishing touch for poor Virginia. She +went into violent hysterics, and was carried off to bed by Miss Way +land and Old New York.</p> + +<p>Massachusetts presently ventured to explore a little. She hastened +through the hall to the front door, opened it a few inches, and put +her hand on the twine which was fastened to the handle. What was her +horror to find that it hung loose, swinging idly in the wind! Sick +at heart, she shut the door, and pressing her hands over her eyes, +tried to think.</p> + +<p>Maine must be lost in the howling storm! She must find her; but +where and how?</p> + +<p>Oh! if Miss Wayland had only let her go at first! She was older; it +would not have mattered so much.</p> + +<p>But now, quick! she would wrap herself warmly, and slip out without +any one knowing.</p> + +<p>The girl was turning to fly up-stairs, when suddenly something fell +heavily against the door outside. There was a fumbling for the handle; +the next moment it flew open, and something white stumbled into the +hall, shut the door, and sat down heavily on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Personal—rudeness!" gasped Maine, struggling for breath. "You shut +the door in my face! One cent for the missionary fund."</p> + +<p>The great storm was over. The sun came up, and looked down on a +strange, white world. No fences, no walls; only a smooth ridge where +one of these had been. Trees which the day before had been quite +tall now looked like dwarfs, spreading their broad arms not far from +the snow carpet beneath them. Road there was none; all was smooth, +save where some huge drift nodded its crest like a billow curling +for its downward rush.</p> + +<p>Maine, spite of her scarred face, which showed as many patches as +that of a court lady in King George's times, was jubilant. Tired! +not a bit of it! A little stiff, just enough to need "limbering out," +as they said at home.</p> + +<p>"There is no butter!" she announced at breakfast. "There is no milk, +no meat for dinner. Therefore, I go a-snow-shoeing. Dear Miss Wayland, +let me go! I have learned my algebra, and I shall be discovering +unknown quantities at every step, which will be just as instructive."</p> + +<p>Miss Wayland could refuse nothing to the heroine of last night's +adventure. Behold Maine, therefore, triumphant, sallying forth, clad +once more in her blanket suit, and dragging her sled behind her.</p> + +<p>There was no struggling now—no hand-to-hand wrestling with +storm-demons. The sun laughed from a sky as blue and deep as her own +sky of Maine, and the girl laughed with him as she walked along, the +powdery snow flying in a cloud from her snow-shoes at every step.</p> + +<p>Such a sight had never been seen in Mentor village before. The +people came running to their upper windows—their lower ones were +for the most part buried in snow—and stared with all their eyes at +the strange apparition.</p> + +<p>In the street, life was beginning to stir. People had found, +somewhat to their own surprise, that they were alive and well after +the blizzard; and knots of men were clustered here and there, +discussing the storm, while some were already at work tunnelling +through the drifts.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins, the butcher, had just got his door open, and great was +his amazement when Maine hailed him from the top of a great drift, +and demanded a quarter of mutton with some soup meat.</p> + + + +<a name="drift"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="4w_drift.jpg (97K)" src="images/4w_drift.jpg" height="1090" width="666"> +<br> +<p>["MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT."]</p> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"Yes, miss!" he stammered, open-mouthed with astonishment. "I—I've +got the meat; but I wasn't—my team isn't out this morning. I don't +know about sending it."</p> + +<p>"I have a 'team' here!" said Maine, quietly, pulling her sled +alongside. "Give me the mutton, Mr. Perkins; you may charge it to +Miss Wayland, please, and I will take it home."</p> + +<p>The butter-man and the grocer were visited in the same way, and Maine, +rather embarrassed by the concentrated observation of the whole +village, turned to pull her laden sled back, when suddenly a window +was thrown open, and a voice exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Young woman! I will give you ten dollars for the use of those +snow-shoes for an hour!"</p> + +<p>Maine looked up in amazement, and laughed merrily when she saw the +well-known countenance of the village doctor.</p> + +<p>"What! You, my dear young lady?" cried the good man. "This is 'Maine +to the Rescue,' indeed! I might have known it was you. But I repeat +my offer. Make it anything you please, only let me have the +snow-shoes. I cannot get a horse out, and have two patients +dangerously ill. What is your price for the magic shoes?"</p> + +<p>"My price, doctor?" repeated Maine, looking up with dancing eyes. +"My price is—one cent. For the Missionary Fund! The snow-shoes are +yours, and I will get home somehow with my sled and the mutton."</p> + +<p>So she did, and Doctor Fowler made his calls with the snow-shoes, +and saved a life, and brought cheer and comfort to many. But it was +ten dollars, and not one cent, which he gave to the Missionary Fund.</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="scarlet"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +THE SCARLET LEAVES</h2></center> +<br> +<p> +"The Committee will please come to order!" said Maine.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" asked Massachusetts, pausing in her occupation of +peeling chestnuts.</p> + +<p>"Why, you know well enough, Massachusetts. Here it is Wednesday, and +we don't know yet what we are going to do on Friday evening. We must +do something, or go shamed to our graves. Never a senior class has +missed its Frivolous Friday, since the school began."</p> + +<p>"Absolutely no hope of the play?"</p> + +<p>"None! Alma's part is too important; no one could possibly take it +at two days' notice. Unless—they say Chicago has a real gift for +acting; but somehow, I don't feel as if she were the person."</p> + +<p>"I should bar that, positively," put in Tennessee. "In the first +place, Chicago has not been here long enough to be identified with +the class. She is clever, of course, or she could not have entered +junior last year; but—well, it isn't necessary to say anything more; +she is out of the question."</p> + +<p>"It is too exasperating!" said Massachusetts. "Alma might have +waited another week before coming down with measles."</p> + +<p>"It's harder for her than for any one else, Massachusetts," said +Maine. "Poor dear; she almost cried her eyes out yesterday, when the +spots appeared, and there was no more doubt."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that; she is a poor, unfortunate Lamb, and I love her, +you know I do; still, a growl may be permitted, Maine. There's +nothing criminal in a growl. The question is, as you were saying, +what shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"A dance?"</p> + +<p>"We had a dance last week!" said Maine; "at least the sophomores did, +and we don't want to copy them."</p> + +<p>"A straw-ride?"</p> + +<p>"A candy-pull?"</p> + +<p>"A concert?"</p> + +<p>"The real question is," said Tennessee, cracking her chestnut +leisurely, "what does Maine intend to do? If she thinks we made her +Class President because we meant to arrange things ourselves, she is +more ignorant than I supposed her. Probably she has the whole thing +settled in her Napoleonic mind. Out with it, Moosetocmaguntic!"</p> + +<p>Maine smiled, and looked round her. The Committee was clustered in a +group at the foot of a great chestnut-tree, at the very edge of a +wood. The leaves were still thick on the trees, and the October sun +shone through their golden masses, pouring a flood of warmth and +light down on the greensward, sprinkled with yellow leaves and +half-open chestnut burrs. Massachusetts and Tennessee, sturdy and +four-square as their own hills; Old New York and New Jersey, and +Maine herself, a tall girl with clear, kind eyes, and a color that +came and went as she talked. This was the Committee.</p> + + + +<a name="conference"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="5w_conference.jpg (138K)" src="images/5w_conference.jpg" height="1057" width="670"> +<br> +<p>[THE CONFERENCE.]</p> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"Well," said Maine, modestly. "I did have an idea, girls. I don't +know whether you will approve or not, but—what do you say to a +fancy ball?"</p> + +<p>"A fancy ball! at two days' notice!"</p> + +<p>"Penobscot is losing her mind. Pity to see it shattered, for it was +once a fine organ."</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Tennessee! I don't mean anything elaborate, of course. +But I thought we might have an informal frolic, and dress up in—oh, +anything we happened to have. Not call it a dance, but have dancing +all the same; don't you see? There are all kinds of costumes that +can be got up with very little trouble, and no expense to speak of."</p> + +<p>"For example!" said Massachusetts. "She has it all arranged, girls; +all we have to do is to sit back and let wisdom flow in our ears."</p> + +<p>"Massachusetts, if you tease me any more, <i>I'll</i> sit back, and let +you do it all yourself. Well, then—let me see! Tennessee—to tell +the truth, I didn't sleep very well last night; my head ached; and I +amused myself by planning a few costumes, just in case you should +fancy the idea."</p> + +<p>"Quack! quack!" said Massachusetts. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but +you <i>are</i> a duck, and I must just show that I can speak your language. +Go on!"</p> + +<p>"Tennessee, I thought you might be an Indian. You must have something +that will show your hair. With my striped shawl for a blanket, and +the cock's feather out of Jersey's hat—what do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Perfect!" said Tennessee. "And I can try effects with my new +paint-box, one cheek stripes, the other spots. Hurrah! next!"</p> + +<p>"Old New York, you must be a flower of some kind. Or—why not a +basket of flowers? You could have a basket-work bodice, don't you see? +and flowers coming out of it all round your neck—your neck is so +pretty, you ought to show it—"</p> + +<p>"Or carrots and turnips!" said the irrepressible Massachusetts. +"Call her a Harvest Hamper, and braid her lovely locks with strings +of onions!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," laughed Old New York, a slender girl whose flower-like +beauty made her a pleasure to look at. "I think I'll keep to the posy, +Massachusetts. Go on, Maine! what shall Massachusetts be, and what +will you be yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Massachusetts ought by rights to be an apple, a nice fat rosy apple; +but I don't quite know how that can be managed."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall be a codfish!" said Massachusetts, decidedly. +"I am not going to desert Mr. Micawber—I mean the Bay State. I +shall go as a salt codfish. <i>Dixi</i>! Pass on to the Pine-Tree!"</p> + +<p>"Why, so I might be a pine-tree! I didn't think of that. But still, +I don't think I will; I meant to be October. The leaves at home are +so glorious in October, and I saw some scarlet leaves yesterday that +will be lovely for chaplets and garlands."</p> + +<p>"What are they? the maples don't turn red here—too near the sea, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what they are. Pointed leaves, rather long and delicate, +and the most splendid color you ever saw. There is just this one +little tree, near the crossroad by the old stone house. I haven't +seen anything like it about here. I found it yesterday, and just +stood and looked at it, it was so beautiful. Yes, I shall be October; +I'll decide on that. What's that rustling in the wood? aren't we all +here? I thought I heard something moving among the trees. I do +believe some one is in there, Massachusetts."</p> + +<p>"I was pulling down a branch; don't be imaginative, my dear. Well, +go on! are we to make out all the characters?"</p> + +<p>"Why—I thought not. Some of the girls will like better to choose +their own, don't you think? I thought we, as the Committee, might +make out a list of suggestions, though, and then they can do as they +please. But now, I wish some of you others would suggest something; +I don't want to do it all."</p> + +<p>"Daisy will have to be her namesake, of course," said Tennessee.</p> + +<p>"Jersey can be a mosquito," said Old New York; "she's just the +figure for it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" said Jersey, who weighed ninety pounds. "Going on that +theory, Pennsylvania ought to go as an elephant, and Rhode Island as +a giraffe."</p> + +<p>"And Chicago as a snake—no! I didn't mean that!" cried Maine.</p> + +<p>"You said it! you said it!" cried several voices, in triumph.</p> + +<p>"The Charitable Organ has called names at last!" said Jersey, +laughing. "And she has hit it exactly. Now, Maine, what is the use +of looking pained? the girl <i>is</i> a snake—or a sneak, which amounts +to the same thing. Let us have truth, I say, at all hazards."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry!" said Maine, simply. "I am not fond of Chicago, and +that is the very reason why I should not call her names behind her +back. It slipped out before I knew it; I am sorry and ashamed, and +that is all there is to say. And now, suppose we go home, and tell +the other girls about the party."</p> + +<p>The Committee trooped off across the hill, laughing and talking, +Maine alone grave and silent. As their voices died away, the ferns +nodded beside a great pine-tree that stood just within the border of +the wood, not six yards from where they had been sitting. A slender +dark girl rose from the fern-clump in which she had been crouching, +and shook the pine-needles from her dress. Very cautiously she +parted the screen of leaves, and looked after the retreating girls.</p> + +<p>"That was worth while!" she said; and her voice, though quiet, was +full of ugly meaning. "Snakes can hear, Miss Oracle, and bite, too. +We'll see about those scarlet leaves!"</p> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +PART II</p> + +<p> + "Tra la, tra lee, + I want my tea!"</p> + +<p>Sang Tennessee, as she ran up-stairs. "Oh, Maine, is that you? my +dear, my costume is simply too perfect for anything. I've been out +in the woods, practising my war-whoop. Three yelps and a screech; I +flatter myself it is the <i>most</i> blood-curdling screech you ever heard. +I'm going to have a dress-rehearsal now, all by myself. Come and +see—why, what's the matter, Maine? something is wrong with you. +What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! nothing serious," said Maine, trying to speak lightly. +"I must get up another costume, that's all, and there isn't much time."</p> + +<p>"Why! what has happened?"</p> + +<p>"The scarlet leaves are gone."</p> + +<p>"Gone! fallen, do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"No! some one has cut or broken every branch. There is not one left. +The leaves made the whole costume, you see; it amounts to nothing +without them, merely a yellow gown."</p> + +<p>"Oh! my dear, what a shame! Who could have taken them?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot imagine. I thought I would get them to-day, and keep them +in water over night, so as to have them all ready to-morrow. Oh, well, +it can't be helped. I can call myself a sunflower, or Black-eyed +Susan, or some other yellow thing. It's absurd to mind, of course, +only—"</p> + +<p>"Only, being human, you do mind," said Tennessee, putting her arm +round her friend's waist. "I should think so, dear. We don't care +about having you canonized just yet. But, Maine, there must be more +red leaves somewhere. This comes of living near the sea. Now, in my +mountains, or in your woods, we could just go out and fill our arms +with glory in five minutes, whichever way we turned. These murmuring +pines and—well, I don't know that there are any hemlocks—are all +very splendid, and no one loves them better than I do; but for a +Harvest festival decoration, '<i>Ils ne sont pas là dedans</i>,' as the +French have it."</p> + +<p>"Slang, Tennessee! one cent!"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary; foreign language, mark of commendation.</p> + +<p>"But come now, and see my war-dance. I didn't mean to let any one +see it before-hand, but you are a dear old thing, and you shall. And +then, we can take counsel about your costume. Not that I have the +smallest anxiety about that; I've no doubt you have thought of +something pretty already. I don't see how you do it. When any one +says 'Clothes' to me, I never can think of anything but red flannel +petticoats, if you will excuse my mentioning the article. I think +Black-eyed Susan sounds delightful. How would you dress for it? you +have the pretty yellow dress all ready."</p> + +<p>"I should put brown velveteen with it. I have quite a piece left +over from my blouse. I'll get some yellow crêpe paper, and make a hat, +or cap, with a brown crown, you know, and yellow petals for the brim; +and have a brown bodice laced together over the full yellow waist, +and—"</p> + +<p>The two girls passed on, talking cheerfully—it is always soothing +to talk about pretty clothes, especially when one is as clever as +Maine was, and can make, as Massachusetts used to say, a court train +out of a jack-towel.</p> + +<p>A few minutes after, Massachusetts came along the same corridor, and +tapped at another door. Hearing "Come in!" she opened the door and +looked in.</p> + +<p>"Busy, Chicago? beg pardon! Miss Cram asked me, as I was going by, to +show you the geometry lesson, as you were not in class yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Thanks! come in, won't you?" said Chicago, rising ungraciously from +her desk, "I was going to ask Miss Cram, of course, but I'm much +obliged."</p> + +<p>Massachusetts pointed out the lesson briefly, and turned to go, when +her eyes fell on a jar set on the ground, behind the door.</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" she said, abruptly. "You've got scarlet leaves, too. Where +did you get them?"</p> + +<p>"I found them," said Chicago, coldly. "They were growing wild, on +the public highway. I had a perfect right to pick them."</p> + +<p>There was a defiant note in her voice, and Massachusetts looked at +her with surprise. The girl's eyes glittered with an uneasy light, +and her dark cheek was flushed.</p> + +<p>"I don't question your right," said Massachusetts, bluntly, +"but I do question your sense. I may be mistaken, but I don't +believe those leaves are very good to handle. They look to me +uncommonly like dogwood. I'm not sure; but if I were you, I would +show them to Miss Flower before I touched them again."</p> + +<p>She nodded and went out, dismissing the matter from her busy mind.</p> + +<p>"Spiteful!" said Chicago, looking after her sullenly.</p> + +<p>"She suspects where I got the leaves, and thinks she can frighten me +out of wearing them. I never saw such a hateful set of girls as +there are in this school. Never mind, sweet creatures! The 'snake' +has got the scarlet leaves, and she knows when she has got a good +thing."</p> + +<p>She took some of the leaves from the jar, and held them against her +black hair. They were brilliantly beautiful, and became her well. +She looked in the glass and nodded, well pleased with what she saw +there; then she carefully clipped the ends of the branches, and put +fresh water in the jar before replacing them.</p> + +<p>"Indian Summer will take the shine out of Black-eyed Susan, I'm +afraid," she said to herself. "Poor Susan, I am sorry for her." She +laughed; it was not a pleasant laugh; and went back to her books.</p> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +PART III.</p> + +<p> +"What a pretty sight!"</p> + +<p>It was Miss Wayland who spoke. She and the other teachers were +seated on the raised platform at the end of the gymnasium. The long +room was wreathed with garlands and brilliantly lighted, and they +were watching the girls as they flitted by in their gay dresses, to +the waltz that good Miss Flower was playing.</p> + +<p>"How ingenious the children are!" Miss Wayland continued. "Look at +Virginia there, as Queen Elizabeth! Her train is my old party cloak +turned inside out, and her petticoat—you recognize that?"</p> + +<p>"I, not!" said Mademoiselle, peering forward. "I am too near of my +sight. What ees it?"</p> + +<p>"The piano cover. That Persian silk, you know, that my brother sent +me. I never knew how handsome it was before. The ruff, and those +wonderful puffed sleeves, are mosquito-netting; the whole effect is +superb—at a little distance."</p> + +<p>"I thought Virginie not suffeeciently clayver for to effect zis!" +said Mademoiselle. "Of custome, she shows not—what do you +say?—invention."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she simply wears the costume, with her own peculiar little air +of dignity. Maine designed it. Maine is costumer in chief. The +Valiant Three, Maine, Massachusetts, and Tennessee, took all the +unpractical girls in hand, and simply—dressed them. <i>Entre nous</i>, +Mademoiselle, I wish, in some cases, that they would do it every day."</p> + +<p>"<i>Et moi aussi</i>!" exclaimed Mademoiselle, nodding eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Maine herself is lovely," said Miss Cram. "I think hers is really +the prettiest costume in the room; all that soft brown and yellow is +really charming, and suits her to perfection."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I am so glad of it, for the child was sadly disappointed +about some other costume she had planned, and got this up almost at +the last moment. She is a clever child, and a good one. Do look at +Massachusetts! Massachusetts, my dear child, what do you call +yourself? you are a most singular figure."</p> + +<p>"The Codfish, Miss Wayland; straight from Boston State-House. Admire +my tail, please! I got up at five o'clock this morning to finish it, +and I must confess I am proud of it."</p> + +<p>She napped her tail, which was a truly astonishing one, made of +newspapers neatly plaited and sewed together, and wriggled her body, +clad in well-fitting scales of silver paper. "Quite a fish, I +flatter myself?" she said, insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>"Very like a whale, if not like a codfish," said Miss Wayland, +laughing heartily. "You certainly are one of the successes of the +evening, Massachusetts, and the Mosquito is another, in that filmy +gray. Is that mosquito-netting, too? I congratulate you both on your +skill. By the way, what does Chicago represent? she is very effective, +with all those scarlet leaves. What are they, I wonder!"</p> + +<p>Massachusetts turned hastily, and a low whistle came from her lips. +"Whew! I beg pardon, Miss Wayland. It was the codfish whistled, not I; +it's a way they have on Friday evenings. I told that girl to ask +Miss Flower about those leaves; I am afraid they are—oh, here is +Miss Flower!" as the good botany teacher came towards them, rather +out of breath after her playing.</p> + +<p>"Miss Flower, what are those leaves, please? those in Chicago's hair, +and on her dress."</p> + +<p>Miss Flower looked, and her cheerful face grew grave.</p> + +<p>"<i>Rhus veneneta</i>" she said; "poison dogwood."</p> + +<p>"I was afraid so!" said Massachusetts. "I told her yesterday that I +thought they were dogwood, and advised her to show them to you +before she touched them again."</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" said kind Miss Flower. "She has them all about her +face and neck, too. We must get them off at once."</p> + +<p>She was starting forward, but Miss Wayland detained her.</p> + +<p>"The mischief is done now, is it not?" she said. "And after all, +dogwood does not poison every one. I have had it in my hands, and +never got the smallest injury. Suppose we let her have her evening, +at least till after supper, which will be ready now in a few minutes. +If she is affected by the poison, this is her last taste of the +Harvest Festivities."</p> + +<p>They watched the girl. She was receiving compliments on her striking +costume, from one girl and another, and was in high spirits. She +glanced triumphantly about her, her eyes lighting up when they fell +on Maine in her yellow dress. She certainly looked brilliantly +handsome, the flaming scarlet of the leaves setting off her dark +skin and flashing eyes to perfection.</p> + +<p>Presently she put her hand up to her cheek, and held it there a +moment.</p> + +<p>"Aha!" said Massachusetts, aloud. "She's in for it!"</p> + +<p>"In for what?" said Maine, who came up at that moment. Following the +direction of Massachusetts' eyes, she drew her apart, and spoke in a +low tone. "I shall not say anything, Massachusetts, and I hope you +will not. Don't you know?" she added, seeing her friend's look of +inquiry. "Those are my scarlet leaves."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have found out all about it. Daisy lingered behind the rest +of us the other day, when I had been telling you all about the leaves, +to pick blackberries. She saw Chicago come out of the wood a few +minutes after we left, looking black as thunder. Don't you remember, +I thought I heard a rustling in the fern, and you laughed at me? She +was hidden there, and heard every word we said. Next day the leaves +were gone, and now they are on Chicago's dress instead of mine."</p> + +<p>"And a far better place for them!" exclaimed Massachusetts, +"though I am awfully sorry for her. Oh! you lucky, lucky girl! and +you dear, precious, stupid ignoramus, not to know poison dogwood +when you see it."</p> + +<p>"Poison dogwood! those beautiful leaves!"</p> + +<p>"Those beautiful leaves. That young woman is in for about two weeks +of as pretty a torture as ever Inquisitor or Iroquois could devise. +I know all about it, though there was a time when I also was ignorant. +Look! she is feeling of her cheek already; it begins to sting. +Tomorrow she will be all over patches, red and white; itching—there +is nothing to describe the itching. It is beyond words. Next day her +face will begin to swell, and in two days more—the School Birthday, +my dear—she will be like nothing human, a mere shapeless lump of +pain and horror. She will not sleep by night or rest by day. She +will go home to her parents, and they will not know her, but will +think we have sent them a smallpox patient by mistake. Her eyes—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hush! hush, Massachusetts!" cried Maine. "Oh! poor thing! poor +thing! what shall I do? I feel as if it were all my fault, somehow."</p> + +<p>"Your fault that she sneaked and eavesdropped, and then stole your +decoration? Oh! come, Maine, don't be fantastic!"</p> + +<p>"No, Massachusetts, I don't mean that. But if I had only known, +myself, what they were, I should never have spoken of them, and all +this would never have happened."</p> + +<p>"The moral of which is, study botany!" said Massachusetts.</p> + +<p>"I'll begin to-morrow!" said Maine.</p> + +<hr> + +<p>"And what is to be the end of the dogwood story, I wonder!" said +Tennessee, meeting Massachusetts in a breathless interval between +two exercises on the School Birthday, the crowning event of the +Harvest Festivities at Miss Wayland's. "Have you heard the last +chapter?"</p> + +<p>"No! what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Maine is in a dark room with the moaning Thing that was Chicago, +singing to her, and telling her about the speeches and things last +night. She vows she will not come out again to-day, just because she +was at chapel and heard the singing this morning; says that was the +best of it, and she doesn't care much about dancing. Maine! and +Miss Wayland will not let us break in the door and carry her off +bodily; says she will be happier where she is, and will always be +glad of this day. I'll tell you what it is, Massachusetts, if this +is the New England conscience I hear so much about, I'm precious +glad I was born in Tennessee."</p> + +<p>"No, you aren't, Old One! you wish you had been born in Maine."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps I do!" said Tennessee.</p> + +<p> +THE END.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Green Satin Gown, by Laura E. 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Richards + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Green Satin Gown + +Author: Laura E. Richards + +Illustrator: Etheldred B. Barry + +Posting Date: August 30, 2012 [EBook #9397] +Release Date: November, 2005 +First Posted: September 29, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREEN SATIN GOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Robert Prince and PG +Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + + + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +BY LAURA E. RICHARDS + +_Author of_ "Captain January," "Melody," "Three Margarets," +"Peggy," "Queen Hildegarde," etc., etc. + + +Illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +Published May, 1903 + + + + +TO +THE GIRLS OF +The Friday Club of Gardiner, Maine +THIS VOLUME +IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +BLUE EGYPTIANS + +LITTLE BENJAMIN + +DON ALONZO + +THE SHED CHAMBER + +MAINE TO THE RESCUE + +THE SCARLET LEAVES + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"THE FIRST TITTER PUT A FIRE IN MY VEINS THAT KEPT ME WARM ALL THE + EVENING" + +"GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP AGAIN" + +"'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; AND--IT'S CRYING!'" + +"'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'" + +"MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT" + +THE CONFERENCE + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + + +Who ever wore such a queer-looking thing? I wore it myself, dear, +once upon a time; yes, I did! Perhaps you would like to hear about it, +while you mend that tear in your muslin. Sit down, then, and let us +be cosy. + +I was making a visit in Hillton once, when I was seventeen years old, +just your age; staying with dear old Miss Persis Elderby, who is now +dead. I have told you about her, and it is strange that I have never +told you the story of the green satin gown; but, indeed, it is years +since I looked at it. We were great friends, Miss Persis and I; and +we never thought much about the difference in our ages, for she was +young for her years, and I was old for mine. In our daily walk +through the pretty, sleepy Hillton street--we always went for the +mail, together, for though Miss Persis seldom received letters, she +always liked to see mine, and it was quite the event of the day--my +good friend seldom failed to point out to me a stately mansion that +stood by itself on a little height, and to say in a tone of pride, +"The Le Baron place, my dear; the finest place in the county. Madam +Le Baron, who lives there alone now, is as great a lady as any in +Europe, though she wears no coronet to her name." + +I never knew exactly what Miss Persis meant by this last remark, but +it sounded magnificent, and I always gazed respectfully at the gray +stone house which sheltered so grand a personage. Madam Le Baron, it +appeared, never left the house in winter, and this was January. Her +friends called on her at stated intervals, and, to judge from +Miss Persis, never failed to come away in a state of reverential +enthusiasm. I could not help picturing to myself the great lady as +about six feet tall, clad in purple velvet, and waving a +peacock-feather fan; but I never confided my imaginings even to the +sympathetic Miss Persis. + +One day my friend returned from a visit to the stone house, quite +breathless, her pretty old face pink with excitement. She sat down +on the chair nearest the door, and gazed at me with, speechless +emotion. + +"Dear Miss Persis!" I cried. "What has happened? Have you had bad +news?" + +Miss Persis shook her head. "Bad news? I should think not, indeed! +Child, Madam Le Baron wishes to see you. More I cannot say at present. +Not a word! Put on your best hat, and come with me. Madam Le Baron +waits for us!" + +It was as if she had said, "The Sultan is on the front door-step." I +flew up-stairs, and made myself as smart as I could in such a hurry. +My cheeks were as pink as Miss Persis's own, and though I had not +the faintest idea what was the matter, I felt that it must be +something of vital import. On the way, I begged my companion to +explain matters to me, but she only shook her head and trotted on the +faster. "No time!" she panted. "Speech delays me, my dear! All will +be explained; only make haste." + +We made such haste, that by the time we rang at the door of the +stone house neither of us could speak, and Miss Persis could only +make a mute gesture to the dignified maid who opened the door, and +who looked amazed, as well she might, at our burning cheeks and +disordered appearance. Fortunately, she knew Miss Persis well, and +lost no time in ushering us into a cool, dimly lighted parlor, hung +with family portraits. Here we sat, and fanned ourselves with our +pocket-handkerchiefs, while I tried to find breath for a question; +but there was not time! A door opened at the further end of the room; +there was a soft rustle, a smell of sandal-wood in the air. The next +moment Madam Le Baron stood before us. A slender figure, about my +own height, in a quaint, old-fashioned dress; snowy hair, arranged +in puff on puff, with exquisite nicety; the darkest, softest eyes I +ever saw, and a general air of having left her crown in the next room; +this was the great lady. + +We rose, and I made my best courtesy,--we courtesied then, my dear, +instead of bowing like pump-handles,--and she spoke to us in a soft +old voice, that rustled like the silk she wore, though it had a clear +sound, too. "So this is the child!" she said. "I trust you are very +well, my dear! And has Miss Elderby told you of the small particular +in which you can oblige me?" + +Miss Persis hastened to say that she wasted no time on explanations, +but had brought me as quickly as might be, thinking that the main +thing. Madam Le Baron nodded, and smiled a little; then she turned +to me; a few quiet words, and I knew all about it. She had received +that morning a note from her grandniece, "a young and giddy person," +who lived in B----, some twenty miles away, announcing that she and +a party of friends were about to drive over to Hillton to see the +old house. She felt sure that her dear aunt would be enchanted to +see them, as it must be "quite too forlorn for her, all alone in +that great barn;" so she might expect them the next evening (that is, +the evening of this very day), in time for supper, and no doubt as +hungry as hunters. There would be about a dozen of them, probably, +but she knew there was plenty of room at Birchwood, and it would be +a good thing to fill up the empty rooms for once in a way; so, +looking forward to a pleasant meeting, the writer remained her +dearest aunt's "affectionate niece, Effie Gay." + +"The child has no mother," said Madam Le Baron to Miss Persis; then +turning to me, she said: "I am alone, save for my two maids, who are +of middle age, and not accustomed to youthful visitors. Learning +from my good friend, Miss Elderby, that a young gentlewoman was +staying at her house, I conceived the idea of asking you to spend +the night with me, and such portion of the next day as my guests may +remain. If you are willing to do me this service, my dear, you may +put off your bonnet, and I will send for your evening dress and your +toilet necessaries." + +I had been listening in a dream, hearing what was said, but thinking +it all like a fairy story, chiefly impressed by the fact that the +speaker was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. +The last sentence, however, brought me to my senses with a vengeance. +With scarlet cheeks I explained that I had brought no evening dress +with me; that I lived a very quiet life at home, and had expected +nothing different here; that, to be quite frank, I had not such a +thing as an evening dress in the world. Miss Persis turned pale with +distress and mortification; but Madam Le Baron looked at me quietly, +with her lovely smile. + +"I will provide you with a suitable dress, my child," she said. +"I have something that will do very well for you. If you like to go +to your room now, my maid will attend you, and bring what is +necessary. We expect our guests in time for supper, at eight o'clock." + +Decidedly, I had walked into a fairy tale, or else I was dreaming! +Here I sat in a room hung with flowered damask, in a wonderful chair, +by a wonderful fire; and a fairy, little and withered and brown, +dressed in what I knew must be black bombazine, though I knew it +only from descriptions, was bringing me tea, and plum-cake, on a +silver tray. She looked at me with kind, twinkling eyes, and said +she would bring the dress at once; then left me to my own wondering +fancies. I hardly knew what to be thinking of, so much was happening: +more, it seemed, in these few hours, than in all my life before. I +tried to fix my mind on the gay party that would soon fill the silent +house with life and tumult; I tried to fancy how Miss Effie Gay +would look, and what she would say to me; but my mind kept coming +back to the dress, the evening dress, that I was to be privileged to +wear. What would it be like? Would silk or muslin be prettier? If +only it were not pink! A red-haired girl in pink was a sad sight! + +Looking up, I saw a portrait on the wall, of a beautiful girl, in a +curious, old-time costume. The soft dark eyes and regal turn of the +head told me that it was my hostess in her youth; and even as I +looked, I heard the rustle again, and smelt the faint odor of +sandalwood; and Madam Le Baron came softly in, followed by the fairy +maid, bearing a long parcel. + +"Your gown, my dear," she said, "I thought you would like to be +preparing for the evening. Undo it, Jessop!" + +Jessop lifted fold on fold of tissue-paper. I looked, expecting I +know not what fairy thing of lace and muslin: I saw--the green satin +gown! + +We were wearing large sleeves then, something like yours at the +present day, and high collars; the fashion was at its height. This +gown had long, tight, wrinkled sleeves, coming down over the hand, +and finished with a ruffle of yellow lace; the neck, rounded and +half-low, had a similar ruffle almost deep enough to be called a ruff; +the waist, if it could be called a waist, was up under the arms: +briefly, a costume of my grandmother's time. Little green satin +slippers lay beside it, and a huge feather-fan hung by a green ribbon. +Was this a jest? was it--I looked up, with burning cheeks and eyes +suffused; I met a glance so kind, so beaming with good-will, that my +eyes fell, and I could only hope that my anguish had not been visible. + +"Shall Jessop help you, my dear?" said Madam Le Baron. "You can do +it by yourself? Well, I like to see the young independent. I think +the gown will become you; it has been considered handsome." She +glanced fondly at the shining fabric, and left the room; the maid, +after one sharp glance at me, in which I thought I read an amused +compassion, followed; and I was left alone with the green satin gown. + +Cry? No, I did not cry: I had been brought up not to cry; but I +suffered, my dear, as one does suffer at seventeen. I thought of +jumping out of the window and running away, back to Miss Persis; I +thought of going to bed, and saying I was ill. It was true, I said +to myself, with feverish violence: I _was_ ill, sick with shame and +mortification and disappointment. Appear before this gay party, +dressed like my own great-grandmother? I would rather die! A person +might easily die of such distress as this--and so on, and so on! + +Suddenly, like a cool touch on my brow, came a thought, a word of my +Uncle John's, that had helped me many a time before. + +"Endeavor, my dear, to maintain a sense of proportion!" + +The words fell with weight on my distracted mind. I sat up straight +in the armchair into which I had flung myself, face downward. Was +there any proportion in this horror? I shook myself, then put the +two sides together, and looked at them. On one side, two lovely old +ladies, one of whom I could perhaps help a little, both of whom I +could gratify; on the other, my own--dear me! was it vanity? I +thought of the two sweet old faces, shining with kindness; I fancied +the distress, the disappointment, that might come into them, if I-- + +"Yes, dear uncle," I said aloud, "I have found the proportion!" I +shook myself again, and began to dress. And now a happy thought +struck me. Glancing at the portrait on the wall, I saw that the fair +girl was dressed in green. Was it? Yes, it must be--it was--the very +same dress! Quickly, and as neatly as I could, I arranged my hair in +two great puffs, with a butterfly knot on the top of my head, in the +style of the picture; if only I had the high comb! I slipped on the +gown, which fitted me well enough. I put on the slippers, and tied +the green ribbons round and round my ankles; then I lighted all the +candles, and looked at myself. A perfect guy? Well, perhaps--and +yet-- + +At this moment Jessop entered, bringing a pair of yellow gloves; she +looked me over critically, saying nothing; glanced at the portrait, +withdrew, and presently reappeared, with the high tortoise-shell +comb in her hand. She placed it carefully in my hair, surveyed me +again, and again looked at the picture. Yes, it was true, the +necklace was wanting; but of course-- + +Really, Jessop was behaving like a jack-in-the-box! She had +disappeared again, and now here she was for the third time; but this +time Madam Le Baron was with her. The old lady looked at me silently, +at my hair, then up at the picture. The sight of the pleasure in her +lovely face trampled under foot, put out of existence, the last +remnant of my foolish pride. + +She turned to Jessop and nodded. "Yes, by all means!" she said. The +maid put into her hand a long morocco box; Madam kissed me, and with +soft, trembling fingers clasped the necklace round my neck. +"It is a graceful compliment you pay me, my child," she said, +glancing at the picture again, with eyes a little dimmed. "Oblige me +by wearing this, to complete the vision of my past youth." + +Ten stars of chrysoprase, the purest and tenderest green in the world, +set in delicately wrought gold. I need not describe the necklace to +you. You think it the most beautiful jewel in the world, and so do I; +and I have promised that you shall wear it on your eighteenth +birthday. + +Madam Le Baron saw nothing singular in my appearance. She never +changed the fashion of her dress, being of the opinion, as she told +me afterward, that a gentlewoman's dress is her own affair, not her +mantua-maker's; and her gray and silver brocade went very well with +the green satin. We stood side by side for a moment, gazing into the +long, dim mirror; then she patted my shoulder and gave a little sigh. + +"Your auburn hair looks well with the green," she said. "My hair was +dark, but otherwise--Shall we go down, my dear?" + +I will not say much about the evening. It was painful, of course; +but Effie Gay had no mother, and much must be pardoned in such a case. +No doubt I made a quaint figure enough among the six or eight gay +girls, all dressed in the latest fashion; but the first moment was +the worst, and the first titter put a fire in my veins that kept me +warm all the evening. An occasional glance at Madam Le Baron's +placid face enabled me to preserve my sense of proportion, and I +remembered that two wise men, Solomon and my Uncle John, had +compared the laughter of fools to the crackling of thorns under a pot. +And--and there were some who did not laugh. + +Pin it up, my dear! Your father has come, and will be wanting his tea. + +I can tell you the rest of the story in a few words. + +A year from that time Madam Le Baron died; and a few weeks after her +death, a parcel came for me from Hillton. + +Opening it in great wonder, what did I find but the gown, the green +satin gown, with the slippers and fan, and the tortoise-shell comb +in a leather case! Lifting it reverently from the box, the dress felt +singularly heavy on my arm, and a moment's search revealed a strange +matter. The pocket was full of gold pieces, shining half-eagles, +which fell about me in a golden shower, and made me cry out with +amazement; but this was not all! The tears sprang to my eyes as I +opened the morocco box and took out the chrysoprase necklace: tears +partly of gratitude and pleasure, partly of sheer kindness and love +and sorrow for the sweet, stately lady who had thought of me in her +closing days, and had found (they told me afterward) one of her last +pleasures in planning this surprise for me. + +There is something more that I might say, my dear. Your dear father +was one of that gay sleighing party; and he often speaks of the +first time he saw me--when I was coming down the stairs in the green +satin gown. + + + + +BLUE EGYPTIANS [1] + + +A PAPER-MILL STORY + +"I wouldn't, Lena!" + +"Well, I guess I shall!" + +"Don't, Lena! please don't! you will be sorry, I am sure, if you do +it. It cannot bring good, I know it cannot!" + +"The idea! Mary Denison, you are too old-fashioned for anything. I'd +like to know what harm it can do." + +The rag-room was nearly deserted. The whistle had blown, and most of +the girls had hurried away to their dinner. Two only lingered behind, +deep in conversation; Mary Denison and Lena Laxen. + +Mary was sitting by her sorting-table, busily sorting rags as she +talked. She was a fair, slender girl, and looked wonderfully fresh +and trim in her gray print gown, with a cap of the same material +fitting close to her head, and hiding her pretty hair. The other +girl was dark and vivacious, with laughing black eyes and a careless +mouth. She was picturesque enough in her blue dress, with the +scarlet handkerchief tied loosely over her hair; but both kerchief +and dress showed the dust plainly, and the dark locks that escaped +here and there were dusty too, showing little of the care that may +keep one neat even in a rag-room. + +"It's just as pretty as it can be!" Lena went on, half-coaxing, +half-defiant. "You ought to see it, Mame! A silk waist, every bit as +good as new, only of course it's mussed up, lying in the bag; and a +skirt, and lots of other things, all as nice as nice! I can't think +what the folks that had them meant, putting such things into the rags: +why, that waist hadn't much more than come out of the shop, you +might say. And do you think I'm going to let it go through the duster, +and then be thrown out, and somebody else get it? No, sir! and it's +no good for rags, you know it isn't, Mary Denison." + +"I know that it is not yours, Lena, nor mine!" said Mary, steadily. +"But I'll tell you what you might do; go straight to Mr. Gordon, and +tell him about the pretty waist,--very likely it got in by mistake,--tell +him it is no good for rags, and ask if you may have it. Like +as not he'll let you have it; and if not, you will find out what his +reason is. I think we ought to suppose he has some reason for what +he does." + +Lena laughed spitefully. + +"Like as not he's going to take it home to his own girl!" she said. +"I saw her in the street the other day, and I wouldn't have been +seen dead with the hat she had on; not a flower, nor even a scrap of +a feather; just a plain band and a goose-quill stuck in it. Real +poorhouse, I thought it looked, and he as rich as a Jew. I guess I +sha'n't go to Mr. Gordon; he's just as hateful as he can be. He gave +out word that no one was to touch that bag, nor so much as go near it; +and he had it set off in a corner of the outer shed, close by the +chloride barrels, so that everything in it will smell like poison. +If that isn't mean, I don't know what is. + +"Well, I can't stay here all day, Mame. Aren't you coming?" + +"Pretty soon!" said Mary. "Don't wait for me, Lena! I want to finish +this stint, so as to have the afternoon off. Mother's poorly to-day, +and I want to cook something nice for her supper." + +Lena nodded and went out, shutting the door with a defiant swing. +Mary looked after her doubtfully, as if hesitating whether she ought +not to follow and make some stronger plea; but the next moment she +bent over her work again. + +"I must hurry!" she said. "I'll see Lena after dinner, and try to +make her promise not to touch that bag. I don't see what has got +into her." + +Mary worked away steadily. The rags were piled in an iron sieve +before her; they were mostly the kind called "Blue Egyptians," +cotton cloth dyed with indigo, which had come far across the sea from +Egypt. Musty and fusty enough they were, and Mary often turned her +head aside as she sorted them carefully, putting the good rags into +a huge basket that stood beside her on the floor, while the bits of +woollen cloth, of paper and string and other refuse, went into +different compartments of the sorting-table, which was something +like an old-fashioned box-desk. + +Mary was a quick worker, and her basket was already nearly full of +rags. Fastened upright beside her seat was a great knife, not unlike +a scythe-blade, with which she cut off the buttons and hooks and eyes, +running the garment along the keen edge with a quick and practised +hand. Usually she amused herself by imagining stories about the +buttons and their former owners, for she was a fanciful girl, and +her child-life, without brothers or sisters, had bred in her the +habit of solitary play and "make-believe," which clung to her now +that she was a tall girl of sixteen. But to-day she was not thinking +of the Blue Egyptians. Her thoughts were following Lena on her +homeward way, and she was hoping devoutly that her own words might +have had some effect, and that Lena might pass by the forbidden bag +without lingering to be further tempted. It _was_ strange that this +one special bundle of rags, coming from a village at some distance, +should have been kept apart when the day's allowance was put into +the dusters. But--"Mother always says we ought to suppose there is a +reason for things!" she said to herself. And she shook her head +resolutely, and tried to make a "button-play." + +She pulled from the heap before her a dark blue garment, and turned +it over, examining it carefully. It seemed to be a woman's jacket. +It was of finer material than most of the "Egyptians," and the +fashion was quaint and graceful. There were remnants of embroidery +here and there, and the heavy glass buttons were like nothing Mary +had ever seen before. + +"I'll keep these," she said, "for little Jessie Brown; she will be +delighted with them. That child does make so much out of so little, +I'm fairly ashamed sometimes. These will be a fortune to Jessie. +I'll tell her that I think most likely they belonged to a princess +when they were new; they were up and down the front of a dress of +gold cloth trimmed with pearls, and she looked perfectly beautiful +when she had it on, and the Prince of the Fortunate Islands fell in +love with her." + +Buttons were a regular perquisite of the rag-girls in the Cumquot +Mill; indeed, any trifle, coin, or seal, or medal, was considered +the property of the finder, this being an unwritten law of the +rag-room. + +Mary cut the buttons off, and slipped them into her pocket; then she +ran her fingers round the edge of the jacket, in case there were any +hooks or other hard substance that had escaped her notice, and that +might blunt the knives of the cutter, into which it would next go. + +In a corner of the lining, her fingers met something hard. Here was +some object that had slipped down between the stuff and the lining, +and must be cut out. Mary ran the jacket along the cutting-knife, +and something rolled into her lap. Not a button this time! she held +it up to the light, and examined it curiously. It was a brooch, of +glass, or clear stones, in a tarnished silver setting. Dim and dusty, +it still seemed full of light, and glanced in the sun as Mary held +it up. + +"What a pretty thing!" she said. "I wonder if it is glass. I must +take this to Mr. Gordon, for I never found anything like it before. +Jessie cannot have this." + +She laid it carefully aside, and went on with her sorting, working +so quickly that in a few moments the sieve was empty, and the basket +piled with good cotton rags, ready for the cutting-machine. + +Taking her hat and shawl, Mary passed out, holding the brooch +carefully in her hand. There were few people in the mill, only the +machine-tenders, walking leisurely up and down beside their machines, +which whirred and droned on, regardless of dinnertime. The great +rollers went round and round, the broad white streams flowed on and +on over the screens, till the mysterious moment came when they +ceased to be wet pulp and became paper. + +Mary hardly glanced at the wonderful machines; they were an old +story to her, though in every throb they were telling over and over +the marvellous works of man. The machine-tenders nodded kindly in +return to her modest greeting, and looked after her with approval, +and said, "Nice gal!" to each other; but Mary hurried on until she +came to the finishing-room. Here she hoped to find a friend whom she +could consult about her discovery; and, sure enough, old James +Gregory was sitting on his accustomed stool, tying bundles of paper +with the perfection that no one else could equal. His back was +turned to the door, and he was crooning a fragment of an old +paper-mill song, which might have been composed by the beating +engine itself, so rhythmic and monotonous it was. + + + "'Gene, 'Gene, + Made a machine; + Joe, Joe, + Made it go; + Frank, Frank, + Turned the crank, + His mother came out, + And gave him a spank, + And knocked him over + The garden bank." + + +At Mary's cheerful "Good morning, Mr. Gregory!" the old man turned +slowly, and looked at the young girl with friendly eyes. + +"Good day, Mary! glad to see ye! goin' along home?" + +"In just a minute! I want to show you something, Mr. Gregory, and to +ask your advice, please." + +The old finisher turned completely round this time, and looked his +interest. Mary opened her hand, and displayed the brooch she had +found. + +James Gregory drew his lips into the form of a whistle, but made no +sound. He looked from the brooch to Mary, and back again. + +"Well?" he said. + +"I found it in the rags; blue Egyptians, you know, Mr. Gregory. It +was inside the lining of a jacket. Do you think--what do you think +about it? is it glass, or--something else?" + +Gregory took the ornament from her, and held it up to the light, +screwing his eyes to little points of light; then he polished it on +his sleeve, and held it up again. + +[Illustration: "GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP +AGAIN."] + +"Something else!" he said, briefly. + +"Is it--do you think it might be worth something, Mr. Gregory?" +asked Mary, rather timidly. + +"Yes!" roared Gregory, with a sudden explosion. "I do! I b'lieve +them's di'monds, sure as here I sit. Mary Denison, you've struck it +this time, or I'm a Dutchman." + +He got off his stool in great excitement, and walked up and down the +room, still holding the brooch in his hand. Mary looked after him, +and her face was very pale. She said one word softly, "Mother!" that +was all. + +Mary Denison and her mother were poor. Mrs. Denison was far from +strong, and they had no easy time of it, for there was little save +Mary's wages to feed and clothe the two women and pay their rent. +James Gregory knew all this; his pale old face was lighted with +emotion, and he stumped up and down the room at a rapid pace. + +Suddenly he stopped, and faced the anxious girl, who was following +him with bewildered eyes. + +"Findin's havin'!" he said, abruptly. "That's paper-mill law. Some +folks would tell ye to keep this to yourself, and sell it for what +you could get." + +Mary's face flushed. + +"But you do not tell me that!" she said, quietly. + +"No!" roared the old man, with another explosion, stamping violently +on the floor. "No, I don't. You're poor as spring snakes, and your +mother's sickly, and you've hard work to get enough to keep the +flesh on your bones; but I don't tell ye to do that. I tell ye to +take it straight to the Old Man, and tell him where ye found it, and +all about it. I've knowed him ever since his mustash growed, and +before. You go straight to him! He's in the office now." + +"I was going!" said Mary, simply. "I thought I'd come and see you +first, Mr. Gregory, you've always been so good to mother and me. +You--you couldn't manage to come with me, could you? I am afraid of +Mr. Gordon; I can't help it, though he is always pleasant to me." + +"I'll go!" said old James, with alacrity. "You come right along with +me!" + +In his eagerness he seized Mary by the arm, and kept his hold on her +as they passed out through the mill. The few "hands" who were at +work here and there gazed after them in amazement; for the old man +was dragging the girl along as if he had caught her in some offence, +and was going to deliver her up to justice. + +The same impression was made in the office, when the pair appeared +there. The two clerks stared open-mouthed, and judged after their +nature; for one of them said, instantly, to himself, "It's a mistake!" +while the other said, "I always knew that Denison girl was too pious +to last!" + +A tall man who sat at a desk in the corner looked up quietly. + +"Ah, Gregory!" he said. "What is it? Mary Denison? Good morning, Mary! +Anything wrong in the rag-room?" + +Gregory waved his hat excitedly. + +"If you'd look here, sir!" he said. "If you would just cast your eye +over that article, and tell this gal what you think of it! Blue +Egyptians, sir! luckiest rags that ever come into this mill, I've +always said. Well, sir?" + +Mr. Gordon was not easily stirred to excitement. It seemed an age to +the anxious girl and the impetuous old man, as he turned the brooch +over and over, holding it up in every light, polishing it, breathing +on it, then polishing it again. Gregory's hands twitched with +eagerness, and Mary felt almost faint with suspense. + +"You found this in the rags?" he asked at length, turning to Mary. +He spoke in his ordinary even tone, and Mary's heart sank, she could +not have told why. + +"Yes, sir!" she faltered. "I found it in a blue jacket. It was in +between the stuff and the lining. There were glass buttons on the +jacket." + +She drew them from her pocket and held them out; but Mr. Gordon, +after a glance, waved them back. + +"Those are of no value!" he said. "About this brooch, I am not so +sure. The stones may be real stones--I incline to think they are; +but it is possible that they may be paste. The imitations are +sometimes very perfect; no one but a jeweller can tell positively. I +will take it to Boston with me to-morrow, and have it examined." + +He dropped the brooch into a drawer at his side, turned the key and +put it in his pocket, all in his quiet, methodical way, as if he +were in the habit of examining diamond brooches every day; then he +nodded kindly to the pair, and bent over his papers again. + +Mary went out silently, and Gregory followed her with a dazed look +on his strong features. He looked back at the door two or three times, +but said nothing till they were back in the finishing-room. + +Then--"It's one of his days!" he said. "I've knowed him ever since +his mustash growed, and there's days when he's struck with a dumb +sperit, just like Scriptur'. Don't you fret, Mary! He'll see you +righted, or I'll give you my head." + +Mary might have thought that Mr. Gregory's head would be of little +use to her without the rest of him. She felt sadly dashed and +disappointed. She hardly knew what she had expected, but it was +something very different from this calm, every-day reception, this +total disregard of her own and her companion's excitement. + +"I guess he thinks they're nothing great!" she said, wearily. +"What was that he said about paste, Mr. Gregory? You never saw any +paste like that, did you? + +"No!" said Gregory, "I've heered of Di'mond Glue, but 'twan't +nothin' like stones--nor glass neither. You may run me through the +calenders if I know what he's drivin' at. But I'll trust him!" he +added, vehemently. "I done right to tell you to go to him. He's in +one of his moods to-day, but you'll hear from him, if there's +anything to hear, now mark my words! And now I'd go home, if I was +you, and see your ma'am, and get your dinner. And--Mary--I dono as +I'd say anything about this, if I was you. Things get round so in a +mill, ye know." + +Mary nodded assurance, and went home, trying to feel that nothing of +importance had happened. Do what she would, however, the golden +visions would come dancing before her eyes. Suppose--suppose the +stones should be real, after all! and suppose Mr. Gordon should give +her a part, at least, of the money they might bring in Boston. It +might--she knew diamonds were valuable--it might be thirty or forty +dollars. Oh! how rich she would be! The rent could be paid some time +in advance, and her mother could have the new shawl she needed so +badly: or would a cloak be better? cloaks were more in fashion, but +Mother said a good shawl was always good style. + +Turning the corner by her mother's house, she met one of the clerks +who had been in the office when she went in there. He looked at her +with the smile she always disliked, she hardly knew why. + +"You did the wrong thing that time, Miss Denison!" he said. + +"What do you mean, Mr. Hitchcock?" asked Mary. + +"You'll never see your diamonds again, nor the money for them!" +replied the man. "That's easy guessing. He'll come back and tell you +they're glass or paste, and that's the last you'll hear of them. And +the diamonds--for they are diamonds, right enough--will go into his +pocket, or on to his wife's neck. I know what's what! I wasn't born +down in these parts." + +"You don't know Mr. Gordon!" said Mary, warmly. "That isn't the way +he is thought of by those who do know him." + +The clerk was a newcomer from another State, and was not liked by +the mill-workers. + +"I know his kind!" he said, with a sneer; "and they're no good to +your kind, Mary Denison, nor to mine. Mark my words, you'll hear no +more of that breastpin." + +Mary turned away so decidedly that he said no more, but his eyes +followed her with a sinister look. + +Next moment he was greeting Lena Laxen cordially, and she was +dimpling and smiling all over at his compliments. Lena thought +Mr. Hitchcock "just elegant!" and believed that Mary was jealous when +she said she did not like him. Something now prompted her to tell +him about the silk waist in the forbidden sack; he took her view at +once and zealously. The boss (for he did not use the kindly title of +"Old Man," by which the other mill-hands designated Mr. Gordon, +though he was barely forty) had his eye on the things, most likely, +as he had on the pin Mary Denison found. Hadn't Lena heard about that? +Well, it was a burning shame, he could tell her; he would see that +she, Lena, wasn't fooled that way. And Lena, listening eagerly, +heard a story very different from that which had been told to +Mr. Gordon. + +In an hour the whole mill knew that Mary Denison had found a diamond +pin in the rags, and that Mr. Gordon had told her it was nothing but +hard glue, and had sold it himself in Boston for a thousand dollars, +and spent the money on a new horse. + +Nor was this all! Late that evening Lena Laxen stole from her home +with a shawl over her head, and met the clerk by the corner of the +outer shed. A few minutes of whispering and giggling, and she stole +back, with a bundle under her shawl; while Hitchcock tied a bright +silk handkerchief round his neck, and strutted off with the air of a +conqueror. + +Next morning, as Mary Denison was going to her work, Lena rapped on +the window, and called her attention by signs to the bodice she had +on. It was a gay striped silk, little worn, but still showing, in +spite of pressing, the marks of crumpling and tossing. The bright +colors suited Lena's dark skin well, and as she stood there with +flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, Mary thought she had never seen +her look prettier. At first she nodded and smiled in approval; but +the next moment a thought darted into her mind that made her clasp +her hands, and cry anxiously: + +"Oh! Lena, you didn't do it! you never did it! it's not _that_ waist +you have on?" + +Lena affected not to hear. She only nodded and laughed triumphantly, +and turned away, leaving Mary standing pale and distressed outside +the window. + +Mary hesitated. Should she go in and reason further with the wilful +girl, and try to persuade her to restore the stolen garment? +Something told her it would be useless; but still she was on the +point of going in, when old James Gregory came by, and asked her to +walk on with him. + +She complied, but not without an anxious look back at the window, +where no one was now to be seen. + +"Well, May," said Gregory, "how're ye feelin' to-day? hearty? that's +clever! I hope you wasn't frettin' about that pin any. Most girls +would, but you ain't the fool kind." + +"I don't know, Mr. Gregory!" said Mary, laughing. "I'm afraid I have +thought about it more or less, but I haven't been fretting. Where's +the use?" + +"Jes' so! jes' so!" assented the old man, with alacrity. + +"And I didn't say anything to Mother," Mary went on. "I didn't want +her to know about it unless something was really coming of it. Poor +Mother! she has enough to think about." + +"She has so!" said Gregory. "A sight o' thinkin' your mother doos, +Mary, and good thoughts, every one of 'em, I'll bet my next pay. +She's a good woman, your mother; I guess likely you know it without +me sayin' so. I call Susan Denison the best woman I know, and I've +told my wife so, more times than she says she has any occasion for. +I don't say she's an angel, but she's a good woman, and that's as fur +as we're likely to get in this world. + +"But that ain't what I wanted to say to you, May! Somehow or 'nother, +the story's got round about your findin' that pin yesterday. You +didn't say nothin'?" + +"Not a word!" said Mary. "How could it--" + +"'Twas that pison Hitchcock, I expect!" said Gregory. "I see him +lookin' up with his little eyes, as red as a ferret, and as ugly. I +bet he started the hull thing; and he's tacked on a passel of lies, +and the endurin' place is hummin' with it. Thought I'd tell ye +before ye went in, so's ye could fix up a little what to say." + +Mary thanked him cordially, and passed on into the mill: the old man +looked after her with a very friendly glance in his keen blue eyes. + +"She's good stuff, May is!" he murmured. "Good stuff, like her mother. + +"Folks is like rags, however you look at 'em. Take a good linen rag, +no matter how black it is, and put it through the washers, and the +bleachers, and the cutters, and all the time it's gettin' whiter and +whiter, and sweeter and sweeter, the more you bang it round; till at +last you have bank-note paper, and write to the Queen of England on +it, if you're a mind to, and she won't have none better. And take +jute or shoddy, and the minute you touch to wash it, it cockles up, +or drops to pieces, and it ain't no good to mortal man. Jest like +folks, I tell ye! and May and her mother's pure linen clippin's, if +ever I see 'em." + +Forewarned is forearmed, and Mary met quietly the buzz of inquiry +that greeted her when she entered the rag-room. The girls crowded +round her, the men were not far behind. To each and all Mary told the +simple truth, trying not to say a word too much. "The tongue is a +fire!" her mother's favorite text, was constantly in her mind, and +she was determined that no ill word should be spoken of Mr. Gordon, +if she could help it. Almost every one in the mill liked and +respected the "Old Man;" but the human mind loves a sensation, and +Lena and Hitchcock had told their story so vividly the day before +that Mary's account seemed tame and dull beside it; and some of the +hands preferred to think that "Mame Denison was a sly one, and +warn't goin' to let on, fear some one'd git ahead of her." + +Lena, who came shortly, in her usual dress, fostered this feeling, +not from malice, but from sheer love of excitement and gossip. In +spite of Mary's efforts, the excitement increased, and when, late in +the afternoon, word came that Mary Denison was wanted in the office, +the rag-room was left fairly bubbling with wild surmise. + +Mr. Gordon did not see Mary when she came in. He was standing at his +desk, with an open letter in his hand, and his face was disturbed as +he spoke to the senior clerk. + +"Myers, it is as I feared about that bag of rags from Blankton. You +have kept it carefully tied up, and close by the chlorides, as I +told you?" + +Myers, a clear-eyed, honest-browed man, looked troubled. + +"I did, sir!" he said. "I have looked at the bag every time I passed +that way, and have cautioned every one in the mill not to go near it, +besides keeping the shed-gate locked; but this morning I found that +it had been tampered with, and evidently something taken out. I hope +there is nothing wrong, sir!" + +George Gordon struck his hand heavily on the desk. "Wrong!" he +repeated. "There have been two fatal cases of smallpox in Blankton, +and that bag has been traced to the house where they were." + +There was a moment of deathly silence. He went on: + +"I suspected something wrong, the moment you told me of things that +looked new and good; but I did not want to raise a panic in the mill, +when there might be some other explanation. I thought I had taken +every precaution--what is that?" + +He turned quickly, hearing a low cry behind him. Mary Denison was +standing with clasped hands, her face white with terror. + +"Mary!" said Mr. Gordon, in amazement. "You--surely you have had +nothing to do with this?" + +"No, sir!" cried Mary. "Oh, no, Mr. Gordon, indeed I have not. But I +fear--I fear I know who has. Oh, poor thing! poor Lena!" + +Then, with an impulse she could not explain, she turned suddenly +upon Hitchcock. + +"Who let Lena Laxen into the yard last night?" she cried. "She could +not have got in without help. You had a key--you were talking to her +after I left her yesterday. Oh! look at him, Mr. Gordon! Mr. Myers, +look at that man!" + +But Hitchcock did not seem to hear or heed her. He sat crouched over +his desk, his face a greenish-gray color, his eyes staring, his +hands clutching the woodwork convulsively; an awful figure of terror, +that gasped and cowered before them. Then suddenly, with a cry that +rattled in his throat, he dashed from his seat and ran bareheaded +out of the door. + +Myers started up to pursue him, but Mr. Gordon held up his hand. + +"Let him go!" he said, sternly. "It may be that he carries his +punishment with him. In any case we shall see him no more." + +Quickly and quietly he gave Myers his orders; to take Lena Laxen to +her home, notify the physician, and proclaim a strict quarantine; to +burn the infected rags without loss of time; to have every part of +the shed where the fatal bag had stood thoroughly disinfected. When +the man had hastened away, Mr. Gordon turned to Mary, and his stern +face lightened. + +"Do not distress yourself, Mary," he said, kindly. "It may be that +Lena will escape the infection; it seems that she only had the +garment on a few minutes; and you did all you could, I am sure, to +dissuade her from this piece of fatal and dishonest folly." + +"Oh! I might have said more!" cried Mary, in an agony of +self-reproach. "I meant to go into her house this morning, and try +to make her hear reason; it might not have been too late then." + +"Thank Heaven you did not!" said Mr. Gordon, gravely. "The air of +the house was probably already infected. No one save the doctor must +go near that house till all danger of the disease developing is over." + +He then told Mary briefly why he had sent for her. Finding that he +could not go to Boston himself at present, as he had planned, he had +sent the brooch by express to a jeweller whom he knew, and would be +able to tell her in a few days whether it was of real value or not. +Mary thanked him, but his words fell almost unheeded on her ears. +What were jewels or money, in the face of a danger so awful as that +which now threatened her friend, and, through her, the whole village? + +Days of suspense followed. From the moment when the weeping, +agonized Lena was taken home and put, tenderly, pityingly, in her +mother's hands (it was Mr. Gordon himself who had done this, refusing +to let any other perform the duty), an invisible line was drawn +about the Laxen cottage, which few dared pass. The doctor came and +went, reporting all well to the eager questioners. Mr. Gordon called +daily to inquire, and every evening Mary Denison stole to the door +with a paper or magazine for Lena and her mother, or some home-made +delicacy that might please the imprisoned girl. Lena was usually at +the window, sometimes defiant and blustering, sometimes wild with +fright, sometimes again crying for sheer loneliness and vexation; +but always behind her was her mother's pale face of dread, and her +thin voice saying that Lena was "as well as common, thank ye," and +she and Mary would exchange glances, and Mary would go away drawing +breath, and thanking the Lord that another day was gone. + +So on, for nine anxious days; but on the tenth, when Mary looked up +at the window, the mother stood there alone, crying; and the doctor, +coming out of the house at the moment, told Mary harshly to keep away +from him, and not to come so near the house. + +In the dreadful days that followed, his people learned to know +George Gordon as they had never known him before. The grave, silent +man, who never spoke save when speech was necessary, was now among +them every day, going from room to room with cheerful greetings, +encouraging, heartening, raising the drooping spirits, and rebuking +sharply the croakers, who foretold with dismal unction a general +epidemic. While taking every possible precaution, he made light of +the actual danger, and by his presence and influence warded off the +panic which might have brought about the dreaded result. + +As a matter of fact, there were no more cases in the mill; and Lena +herself had the terrible disease more lightly than any one had dared +to hope. The doctor, hurrying through back ways and alleys to change +his clothes and take his bath of disinfectants, was hailed from back +gates and windows at every step; and he never failed to return a +cheery "Doing well! out of it soon now! No, not much marked, only a +few spots here and there." + +This was when he left the quarantined house; but when he sought it, +he might be seen to stop at one gate and another, picking up here a +jar, there a bowl, here again a paper bag; till by the time he +reached the Laxen gate he stood out all over with packages like a +summer Santa Claus. + +"There ain't anybody goin' to starve round here, if they _have_ got +the smallpox!" was the general verdict, voiced by James Gregory, and +when he added, for the benefit of the mill-yard, that he had heard +Mr. Gordon order ice-cream, oranges, and oysters, all at once, for +Lena, a growl of pleasure went round, which deepened into a hearty +"What's the matter with the Old Man? _he's_ all right!" + +At length, one happy day, Mary Denison met Mr. Gordon at the Laxens' +gate, and heard the good news that Lena was sitting up; that in a +day or two now the quarantine would be taken off, the house +disinfected, and Lena back in her place at the mill. The manager +looked with satisfaction at Mary's beaming face of happiness; then, +as she was turning away to spread the good tidings, he said: + +"Wait a moment, Mary! I have some other news for you. Have you +forgotten the brooch that you found in the Blue Egyptians?" + +The color rushed to Mary's face, and Mr. Gordon had his answer. + +"Because," he added, "I have not forgotten, though you might well +think I had done so. All this sad business has delayed matters, but +now I have it all arranged. I am ready to-day, Mary, to give you +either the brooch itself, or--what I think will be better--five +hundred dollars, the sum I find it to be worth. Yes, my child, I am +speaking the truth! The stones are fine ones, and the Boston +jeweller offers you that sum for them. Well, Mary, have you nothing +to say? What, crying? this will never do!" + +But Mary had nothing to say, and she was crying, because she could +not help it. Presently she managed to murmur something about +"Too much! too great kindness--not fair for her to have it all!" but +Mr. Gordon cut her short. + +"Certainly you are to have it all, every penny of it! Finding's +having! that is paper-mill law; ask James Gregory if it is not! +There comes James this moment; go and tell him of your good fortune, +and let him bring you up to my house this evening to get the money. + +"But, Mary,"--he glanced at a letter in his hand, and his face, +which had been bright with kindness and pleasure, grew very +grave,--"there is something else for you to tell James, and all the +hands. James Hitchcock died yesterday, of malignant smallpox!" + +[Footnote 1: The main incidents in this story are founded on fact.] + + + + +LITTLE BENJAMIN + + "Then is little Benjamin their ruler." + + +"I THINK the kitty wants to come in," said Mother Golden. "I hear +him crying somewhere. Won't you go and let him in, Adam?" + +Adam laid down his book and went out; the whole family looked up +cheerfully, expecting to see Aladdin, the great Maltese cat, enter +with his stately port. There was a pause; then Adam came back with a +white, scared face, and looked at his father without speaking. + +"What is the matter, my son?" asked Father Golden. + +"Is Kitty hurt?" asked Mother Golden, anxiously. + +"Was it that dog of Jackson's?" cried Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph. + +"The cat isn't there!" said Adam. "It's--it's a basket, father." + +"A basket? What does the boy mean?" + +"A long basket, with something white inside; and--it's crying!" + +The boy had left the door open, and at this moment a sound came +through it, a long, low, plaintive cry. + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden; and she was out of the door in a +flash. + +"See there now!" said Father Golden, reprovingly. "Your mother's +smarter than any of you to-day. Go and help her, some of you!" + +The children tumbled headlong toward the door, but were met by +Mother Golden returning, bearing in her strong arms a long basket, +in which was indeed something white and fluffy that cried. + +[Illustration: "'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; +AND--IT'S CRYING!'"] + +"A baby!" exclaimed Father Golden. + +"A baby!" echoed Mary, Lemuel, Ruth, and Joseph. + +"Well, I knew it was a baby," protested Adam; "but I didn't like to +say so." + +Mother Golden lifted the child out and held it in a certain way; the +cries ceased, and the little creature nestled close against her and +looked up in her face. + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden again. "Come here, girls!" + +The girls pressed forward eagerly; the boys hung back, and glanced +at their father; these were women's matters. + +"It's got hair!" cried Ruth, in rapture. "Mother! real hair, and it +curls; see it curl!" + +"Look at its little hands!" murmured Mary. "They're like pink shells, +only soft. Oh! see it move them, Ruth!" She caught her sister's arm +in a sudden movement of delight. + +"Oh, mother, mayn't we keep it?" cried both girls at once. + +Mother Golden was examining the baby's clothes. + +"Cambric slip, fine enough, but not so terrible fine. Flannel blanket, +machine-embroidered--stop! here's a note." + +She opened a folded paper, and read a few words, written in a +carefully rough hand. + +"His mother is dead, his father a waif. Ask the woman with the kind +eyes to take care of him, for Christ's sake." + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden, again. + +"It's a boy, then!" said Father Golden, brightening perceptibly. He +came forward, the boys edging forward too, encouraged by another +masculine presence. + +"It's a boy, and a beauty!" said Mother Golden, wiping her eyes. +"I never see a prettier child. Poor mother, to have to go and leave +him. Father, what do you say?" + +"It's for you to say, mother;" said Father Golden. "It's to you the +child was sent." + +"Do you suppose 'twas me that was meant? They might have mistaken the +house." + +"Don't talk foolishness!" said Father Golden. "The question is, what +shall we do with it? There's places, a plenty, where foundlings have +the best of bringing up; and you've got care enough, as it is, mother, +without taking on any more." + +"Oh! we could help!" cried Mary. "I could wash and dress it, I know +I could, and I'd just love to." + +"So could I!" said twelve-year-old Ruth. "We'd take turns, Mary and I. +Do let's keep it, mother!" + +"It's a great responsibility!" said Father Golden. + +"Great Jemima!" said Mother Golden, with a sniff. "If I couldn't +take the responsibility of a baby, I'd give up." + +Father Golden's mind moved slowly, and while he was meditating a +reply, his wife issued various commands, and went through some +intricate feminine manoeuvres, with the effect of increased +fluffiness on the baby's part. In five minutes she was feeding the +child with warm milk from a spoon, and proclaiming that he ate +"like a Major!" + +The boys, gaining more and more confidence, were now close at her +knee, and watched the process with eager eyes. + +"He's swallering like anything!" cried Lemuel. "I can see him do it +with his throat, same as anybody." + +"See him grab the spoon!" said Joseph. "My! ain't he strong? Can he +talk, mother?" + +"Joe, you chuckle-head!" said Adam, who was sixteen, and knew most +things. "How can he talk, when he hasn't got any teeth?" + +"Uncle 'Rastus hasn't got any teeth," retorted Joseph, "and he talks +like a buzz-saw." + +"Hush, Joseph!" said Mother Golden, reprovingly. "Your Uncle 'Rastus +is a man of years." + +"Yes, mother!" said Joseph, meekly. + +"Baby _has_ got a tooth, too, Adam!" Mother Golden continued, +triumphantly. "I feel it pricking through the gum this minute. And +he so good, and laughing like a sunflower! Did it hurt him, then, a +little precious man? he shall have a nice ring to-morrow day, to +bitey on, so he shall!" + +"I suppose, then, he must be as much as a week old," hazarded Adam, +in an offhand tone. "They are never born with teeth, are they, +unless they are going to be Richard the Thirds, or something +wonderful?" + +"Perhaps he is!" said Ruth. "He looks wonderful enough for Richard +the Twentieth, or anything." + +But--"A week old!" said Mother Golden. "It's time there was a baby in +this house, if you don't know better than that, Adam. About six +months old I call him, and as pretty a child as ever I saw, even my +own." + +She looked half-defiantly at Father Golden, who returned the look +with one of mild deprecation. + +"I was only thinking of the care 'twould be to you, mother," he said. +"We're bound to make inquiries, and report the case, and so forth; +but if nothing comes of that, we might keep the child for a spell, +and see how things turn out." + +"That's what I was thinking!" said Mother Golden, eagerly. "I was +thinking anyway, Joel, 'twould be best to keep him through his +teething and stomach troubles, and give him a good start in the way +of proper food and nursing. At them homes and nurseries, they mean +well, but the most of them's young, and they _don't_ understand a +child's stomach. It's experience they need, not good-will, I'm well +aware. Of course, when Baby begun to be a boy, things might be +different. You work hard enough as it is, father, and there's places, +no doubt, could do better for him, maybe, than what we could. +But--well, seeing whose name he come in, I _do_ feel to see him +through his teething." + +"Children, what do you say?" asked Father Golden. "You're old enough +to have your opinion, even the youngest of you." + +"Oh, keep him! keep him!" clamored the three younger children. + +Adam and Lemuel exchanged a glance of grave inquiry. + +"I guess he'd better stay, father!" said Adam. + +"I think so, too!" said Lemuel; and both gave something like a sigh +of relief. + +"Then that's settled," said Father Golden, "saying and supposing +that no objection turns up. Next thing is, what shall we call this +child?" + +All eyes were fixed on the baby, who, now full of warm milk, sat +throned on Mother Golden's knee, blinking content. + +It was a pretty picture: the rosy, dimpled creature, the yellow +floss ruffled all over his head, his absurd little mouth open in a +beaming smile; beaming above him, Mother Golden's placid face in its +frame of silver hair; fronting them, Father Golden in his big +leather chair, solid, comfortable, benevolent; and the five children, +their honest, sober faces lighted up with unusual excitement. A +pleasant, homelike picture. Nothing remarkable in the way of setting; +the room, with its stuffed chairs, its tidies, and cabinet organ, was +only unlike other such rooms from the fact that Mother Golden +habitually sat in it; she could keep even haircloth from being +commonplace. But now, all the light in the room seemed to centre on +the yellow flossy curls against her breast. + +"A-goo!" said the baby, in a winning gurgle. + +"He says his name's Goo!" announced Joseph. + +"Don't be a chuckle-head, Joe!" said Adam. "What was the name on the +paper, mother?" + +"It said 'his father is a Waif;' but I don't take that to be a +Christian name. Surname, more likely, shouldn't you say, father?" + +"Not a Christian name, certainly," said Father Golden. "Not much of +a name anyhow, 'pears to me. We'd better give the child a suitable +name, mother, saying and supposing no objection turns up. Coming +into a Christian family, let him have Christian baptism, I say." + +"Oh, call him Arthur!" + +"Bill!" + +"Richard!" + +"Charlie!" + +"Reginald!" cried the children in chorus. + +"I do love a Bible name!" said Mother Golden, pensively. "It gives a +child a good start, so to say, and makes him think when he hears +himself named, or ought so to do. All our own children has Bible +names, father; don't let us cut the little stranger off from his +privilege." + +"But Bible names are so ugly!" objected Lemuel, who was sensitive, +and suffered under his own cognomen. + +"Son," said Father Golden, "your mother chooses the names in this +family." + +"Yes, father!" said Lemuel. + +"Lemuel, dear, you was named for a king!" said Mother Golden. +"He was a good boy to his mother, and so are you. Bring the Bible, +and let us see what it opens at. Joseph, you are the youngest, you +shall open it." + +Joseph opened the great brown leather Bible, and closing his eyes, +laid his hand on the page; then looking down, he read: + +"'There is little Benjamin their ruler, and the princes of Judah +their council: the princes of Zebulun and the princes of Nephtali.'" + +"Zebulun and Nephtali are outlandish-sounding names," said Mother +Golden. + +"I never knew but one Nephtali, and he squinted. Benjamin shall be +this child's name. Little Benjamin: the Lord bless and keep him!" + +"Amen!" said Father Golden. + + + +_PART II_. + +"Father, may I come in, if you are not busy?" + +It was Mary who spoke; Mary, the dear eldest daughter, now a woman +grown, grave and mild, trying hard to fill the place left empty +these two years, since Mother Golden went smiling out of life. + +Father Golden looked up from his book; he was an old man now, but +his eyes were still young and kind. + +"What is it, daughter Mary?" + +"The same old story, father dear; Benny in mischief again. This time +he has rubbed soot on all the door-handles, and the whole house is +black with it. I hate to trouble you, father, but I expect you'll +have to speak to him. I do love the child so, I'm not strict +enough--I'm ashamed to say it, but they all think so, and I know +it's true--and Adam is too strict." + +"Yes, Adam is too strict," said Father Golden. He looked at a +portrait that stood on his desk, a framed photograph of Mother Golden. + +"I'll speak to the child, Mary," he said. "I'll see that this does +not happen again. What is it, Ruthie?" + +"I was looking for Mary, father. I wanted--oh, Mary! what shall I do +with Benny? he has tied Rover and the cat together by their tails, +and they are rushing all about the garden almost crazy. I must +finish this work, so I can't attend to it. He says he is playing +Samson. I wish you would speak to him, father." + +"I will do so, Ruth, I will do so. Don't be distressed, my daughter." + +"But he is so naughty, father! he is so different from the other boys. +Joe never used to play such tricks when he was little." + +"The spring vacation will be over soon now, Ruth," said Sister Mary. +"He is always better when he is at work, and there is so little for +a boy to do just at this time of year." + +"I left Joe trying to catch the poor creatures," said Ruth. +"Here he comes now." + +Joe, a tall lad of seventeen, entered with a face of tragedy. + +"Any harm done, Joseph?" asked Father Golden, glancing at the +portrait on his desk. + +"It's that kid again, father!" said Joe. "Poor old Rover--" + +"Father knows about that, Joe!" said Mary, gently. + +"Did you get them apart?" cried Ruth. + +"Yes, I did, but not till they had smashed most of the glass in the +kitchen windows, and trampled all over Mary's geraniums. Something +has got to be done about that youngster, father. He's getting to be +a perfect nuisance." + +"I am thinking of doing something about him, son Joseph," said Father +Golden. "Are your brothers in the house?" + +"I think I heard them come in just now, sir. Do you want to see them?" + +Apparently Adam and Lemuel wanted to see their father, for they +appeared in the doorway at this moment: quiet-looking men, with grave, +"set" faces; the hair already beginning to edge away from their +temples. + +"You are back early from the office, boys!" said Father Golden. + +"We came as soon as we got the message," said Adam. "I hope nothing +is wrong, father." + +"What message, Adam?" + +"Didn't you send for us? Benny came running in, all out of breath, +and said you wished to see us at once. If he has been playing tricks +again--" + +Adam's grave face darkened into sternness. The trick was too evident. + +"Something must be done about that boy, father!" he said. "He is the +torment of the whole family." + +"No one can live a day in peace!" said Lemuel. + +"No dumb creature's life is safe!" said Joe. + +"He breaks everything he lays hands on," said Ruth, "and he won't +keep his hands off anything." + +"You were all little once, boys!" said Mary. + +"We never behaved in this kind of way!" said the brothers, sedate +from their cradles. "Something must be done!" + +"You are right," said Father Golden. "Something must be done." + +Glancing once more at the portrait of Mother Golden, he turned and +faced his children with grave looks. + +"Sit down, sons and daughters!" said the old man. "I have something +to say to you." + +The young people obeyed, wondering, but not questioning. Father +Golden was head of the house. + +"You all come to me," said Father Golden, "with complaints of little +Benjamin. It is singular that you should come to-day, for I have +been waiting for this day to speak to you about the child myself." + +He paused for a moment; then added, weighing his words slowly, as +was his wont when much in earnest, "Ten years ago to-day, that child +was left on our door-step." + +The brothers and sisters uttered an exclamation, half surprised, +half acquiescent. + +"It doesn't seem so long!" said Adam. + +"It seems longer!" said Mary. + +"I keep forgetting he came that way!" murmured Joe. + +"I felt doubtful about taking him in," Father Golden went on. +"But your mother wished it; you all wished it. We decided to keep +him for a spell, and give him a good start in life, and we have kept +him till now." + +"Of course we have kept him!" said Ruth. + +"Naturally!" said Lemuel. + +Adam and Mary said nothing, but looked earnestly at their father. + +"Little Benjamin is now ten years old, more or less," said Father +Golden. "You are men and women grown; even Joseph is seventeen. Your +mother has entered into the rest that is reserved for the people of +God, and I am looking forward in the hope that, not through any +merit of mine, but the merciful grace of God, I may soon be called +to join her. Adam and Lemuel, you are settled in the business, and +looking forward to making homes of your own with worthy young women. +Joseph is going to college, which is a new thing in our family, but +one I approve, seeing his faculty appears to lie that way. Ruth will +make a first-rate dressmaker, I am told by those who know. Mary--" + +His quiet voice faltered. Mary took his hand and kissed it +passionately; a sob broke from her, and she turned her face away +from the brothers and sister who loved but did not understand her. +They looked at her with grave compassion, but no one would have +thought of interrupting Father Golden. + +"Mary, you are the home-maker," the old man went on. "I hope that +when I am gone this home will still be here, with you at the head of +it. You are your mother's own daughter; there is no more to say." He +was silent for a time, and then continued. + +"There remains little Benjamin, a child of ten years. He is no kin +to us; an orphan, or as good as one; no person has ever claimed him, +or ever will. The time has come to decide what shall be done with +the child." + +Again he paused, and looked around. The serious young faces were all +intent upon him; in some, the intentness seemed deepening into +trouble, but no one spoke or moved. + +"We have done all that we undertook to do for him, that night we +took him in, and more. We have brought him--I should say your mother +brought him--through his sickly days; we 'most lost him, you remember, +when he was two years old, with the croup--and he is now a healthy, +hearty child, and will likely make a strong man. He has been well +treated, well fed and clothed, maybe better than he would have been +by his own parents if so't had been. He is turning out wild and +mischievous, though he has a good heart, none better; and you all, +except Mary, come to me with complaints of him. + +"Now, this thing has gone far enough. One of two things: either this +boy is to be sent away to some institution, to take his place among +other orphans and foundlings, or--he must be one of you for now and +always, to share alike with you while I live, to be bore with and +helped by each and every one of you as if he was your own blood, and +to have his share of the property when I am gone. Sons and daughters, +this question is for you to decide. I shall say nothing. My life is +'most over, yours is just beginning. I have no great amount to leave +you, but 'twill be comfortable so far as it goes. Benjamin has +one-sixth of that, and becomes my own son, to be received and +treated by you as your own brother, or he goes." + +Mary hid her face in her hands. Adam walked to the window and looked +out; but the other three broke out into a sudden, hurried clamor, +strangely at variance with their usual staid demeanor. + +"Oh, father, we couldn't let him go!" + +"Why, father, I can't think what you mean!" + +"I'm sure, sir, we never thought of such a thing as sending him away. +Why, he's our Ben." + +"Good enough little kid, only mischievous." + +"Needs a little governing, that's all. Mary spoils him; no harm in +him, not a mite." + +"And the lovingest little soul! the minute he found that Kitty's paw +was cut, he sat down and cried--" + +"I guess if Benny went, I'd go after him pretty quick!" said Joseph, +who had been loudest in his complaint against the child. + +Mary looked up and smiled through her tears. "Joe, your heart is in +the right place!" she said. "I finished your shirts this morning, +dear; I'm going to begin on your slippers to-night." + +"Well, but, father--" + +"Father dear, about little Benny--" + +"Yes, sir--poor little Ben!" + +"Go easy!" said Father Golden; and his face, as he looked from one +to the other, was as bright as his name. + +"Why, children, you're real excited. I don't want excitement, nor +crying--Mary, daughter, I knew how you would feel, anyway. I want a +serious word, 'go,' or 'stay,' from each one of you; a word that +will last your lives long. I'll begin with the youngest, because +that was your mother's way. She always said the youngest was nearest +heaven. Joseph, what is your word about little Benjamin?" + +"Stay, of course!" cried Joe. "Benny does tease me, but I should be +nowhere without him." + +"Ruth! you seemed greatly tried just now. Think what you are going +to say." + +"Oh, of course he must stay, father. Why, the child is the life of +the house. We are all so humdrum and mopy, I don't know what we +should do without Benny to keep us moving." + +"Mary, daughter--not that I need your answer, my dear." + +"He is the only child I shall ever have!" said Mary, simply. + +There was silence for a moment, and all thought of the grave where +her young heart had laid its treasure. + +"Lemuel!" + +"I've been hard on the child, Father!" said Lemuel. "He's so +different from the rest of us, and he does try me. But mother loved +him, and down at the bottom we all do, I guess. I say 'stay,' too, +and I'll try to be more of a brother to him from now on." + +"Son Adam, I have left you the longest time to reflect," said Father +Golden. "You are the oldest, and when I am gone it will be on you +and Mary that the heft of the care will come. Take all the time you +want, and then give us your word!" + +Adam turned round; his face was very grave, but he spoke cheerfully. + +"I have had time enough, Father," he said. "I was the first that +heard that little voice, ten years ago, and the first, except mother, +that saw the child; 'twould be strange if I were the one to send him +away. He came in Christ's name, and in that name I bid him stay." + +"Amen!" said Father Golden. + +A silence followed; but it was broken soon by a lively whistle, +shrilling out a rollicking tune; the next moment a boy came running +into the room. Curly, rosy, dirty, ragged, laughing, panting, little +Benjamin stood still and looked round on all the earnest, serious +faces. + +"What's the matter, all you folks?" he asked. "I should think you +was all in meeting, and sermon just beginning. Ruth, I tied up +Kitty's leg all right; and I'll dig greens to pay for the glass, Joe. +Say, Bro'rer-Adam-an'-Lem (Benny pronounced this as if it were one +word), did you forget it was April Fool's Day? Didn't I fool you good? +And--say! there's a fierce breeze and my new kite's a buster. Who'll +come out and fly her with me?" + +"I will, Benny!" said Adam, Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph. + + + + +DON ALONZO + + +"Don Alonzo! Don Alonzo Pitkin! Where be you?" + +There was no answer. + +"Don Alonzo! Deacon Bassett's here, and wishful to see you. Don +Alonzo Pit-_kin_!" + +Mrs. Joe Pitkin stood at the door a moment, waiting; then she shook +her shoulders with a despairing gesture, and went back into the +sitting-room. "I don't know where he is, Deacon Bassett," she said. +"There! I'm sorry; but he's so bashful, Don Alonzo is, he'll creep +off and hide anywheres sooner than see folks. I do feel mortified, +but I can't seem to help it, no way in the world." + +"No need to, Mis' Pitkin," said Deacon Bassett, rising slowly and +reaching for his hat. "No need to. I should have been pleased to see +Don 'Lonzo, and ask if he got benefit from those pills I left for him +last time I called; what he wants is to doctor reg'lar, and keep +straight on doctorin'. But I can call again; and I felt it a duty to +let you know what's goin' on at your own yard-gate, I may say. Mis' +Pegrum's house ain't but a stone's throw from yourn, is it? Well, +I'll be wishing you good day, and I hope Joseph will be home before +there's any trouble. I don't suppose you've noticed whether Don +Alonzo has growed any, sence he took those pills?" + +"No, I haven't!" said Mrs. Pitkin, shortly. "Good day, Deacon Bassett." + +"Yes, you can call again," she added, mentally, as she watched the +deacon making his way slowly down the garden walk, stopping the +while to inspect every plant that looked promising. "You can call +again, but you will not see him, if you come every day. It does beat +all, the way folks can't let that boy alone. Talk about his being +cranky! I'd be ten times as cranky as he is, if I was pestered by +every old podogger that's got stuff to sell." + +She closed the door, and addressed the house, apparently empty and +still. "He's gone!" she said, speaking rather loudly, "Don 'Lonzo, +he's gone, and you can come out. I expect you're hid somewheres +about here, for I didn't hear you go out." + +There was no sound. She opened the door of the ground-floor bedroom +and looked in. All was tidy and pleasant as usual. Every mat lay in +its place; the chairs were set against the wall as she loved to see +them; the rows of books, the shelves of chemicals, at which she +hardly dared to look, and which she never dared to touch for fear +something would "go off" and kill her instantly, the specimens in +their tall glass jars, the case of butterflies, all were in their +place; but there was no sign of life in the room, save the canary in +the window. + +"Deacon Bassett's gone!" she said, speaking to the canary. + +There was a scuffling sound from under the bed; the valance was +lifted, and a head emerged cautiously. + +"I tell you he's gone!" repeated Mira Pitkin, rather impatiently. +"Come out, Don Alonzo! There! you are foolish, I must say!" + +The head came out, followed by a figure. The figure was that of a +boy of twelve, but the head belonged to a youth of seventeen. The +rounded shoulders, the sharp features, the dark, sunken eyes, all +told a tale of suffering; Don Alonzo Pitkin was a hunchback. + +His pretty, silly mother had given him the foolish name which seemed +a perpetual mockery of his feeble person. She had found it in an old +romance, and had only wavered between it and Senor Gonzalez,--which +she pronounced Seener Gon-zallies,--the other dark-eyed hero of the +book. Perhaps she pictured to herself her baby growing up into such +another lofty, black-plumed hidalgo as those whose magnificent +language and mustachios had so deeply impressed her. It was true +that she herself had pinkish eyes and white eyelashes, while her +husband was familiarly known as "Carrots,"--but what of that? + +But he had a fall, this poor baby,--a cruel fall, from the +consequences of which no high-sounding name could save him; and then +presently the little mother died, and the father married again. + +The boy's childhood had been a sad one, and all the happiness he had +known had been lately, since his elder brother married. Big, +good-natured Joe Pitkin, marrying the prettiest girl in the village, +had been sore at heart, even in his new-wedded happiness, at the +thought of leaving the deformed, sensitive boy alone with the +careless father and the shrewish stepmother. But his young wife had +been the first to say: + +"Let Don Alonzo come and live with us, Joe! Where there is room for +two, there is room for three, and that boy wants to be made of!" + +So the strong, cheerful, wholesome young woman took the sickly lad +into her house and heart, and "made of him," to use her own quaint +phrase; and she became mother and sister and sweetheart, all in one, +to Don Alonzo. + +Now she stood looking at him, shaking her head, yet smiling. +"Don 'Lonzo, how can you behave so?" she asked. "This is the third +time Deacon Bassett has been here to see you, and he's coming again; +and what be I to say to him next time he comes? You can't go through +life without seeing folks, you know." + +Don Alonzo shook his shoulders, and pretended to look for dust on +his coat. He would have been deeply mortified to find any, for he +took care of his own room, and prided himself, with reason, on its +neatness. Also, the space beneath his bedstead was cupboard as well +as hiding-place. + +"He troubles me," he said, meekly. "Deacon Bassett troubles me more +than any of 'em. Did he ask if I'd grown any?" + +"Well, he did," Mira admitted. "But I expect he didn't mean anything +by it." + +"He's asked that ever since I can remember," said Don Alonzo; +"and I'm weary of it. There! And then he says that if I would only +take his Green Elixir three times a day for three months, I'd grow +like a sapling willow. He hopes to make his living out of me, yet!" + +Mrs. Pitkin laughed, comfortably, and smoothed the lad's hair back +with a motherly touch. "All the same," she said, "you must quit +hiding under the bed when folks come to call, Don 'Lonzo. You don't +want 'em to think I treat you bad, and keep you out o' sight, so's +they'll not find it out." Then, seeing the boy's face flush with +distress, she added, hastily, "Besides, you're getting to be 'most a +man now; I want strangers should know there's men-folks about the +place, now Joe's away. There's burglars in town, Don 'Lonzo, and we +must look out and keep things shut up close, nights." + +"Burglars!" repeated the youth. + +"Yes; Deacon Bassett was telling me about 'em just now. I guess +likely half what he came for was to give me a good scare, knowing +Joe was away. Now, ain't I uncharitable! 'Twas just as likely to be +a friendly warning. Anyway, he was telling me they came through from +Tupham Corner day before yesterday, and they've been lurking and +spying round." + +"Some boys saw them, coming through Green Gully, and were scared to +death at their looks; they said they were big, black-looking men, +strangers to these parts; and they swore at the boys and ordered 'em +off real ugly. Nobody else has seen them in honest daylight, but +they broke into Dan'l Brown's house last night. He's deaf, you know, +and didn't hear a sound. They came right into the room where he +slept,--Deacon Bassett was there the next day, and saw their tracks all +over the floor,--and took ten dollars out of his pants pocket. The +pants was hanging right beside the bed, and they turned them clean +inside out, and Dan'l never stirred." + +"My, oh!" exclaimed Don Alonzo. + +"Why, it's terrible!" Mira went on. "Then, last night, they got into +Mis' Pegrum's house, too. She's a lone woman, you know, same as +Dan'l is a man. Seems as if they had took note of every house where +there wasn't plenty of folks to be stirring and taking notice. They +got into the pantry window, and took every living thing she had to +eat. They might do that, and still go hungry, Deacon Bassett says; +you know there's always been a little feeling between him and Mis' +Pegrum; her cat and his hens--it's an old story. Well, and she did +hear a noise, and came out into the kitchen, and there sat two great, +black men, eating her best peach preserves, and the cake she'd made +for the Ladies' Aid, to-day. She was so scare't, she couldn't speak +a word; and they just laughed and told her to go back to bed, and +she went. Poor-spirited, it seems, but I don't know as I should have +done a bit better in her place. There! I wish Joe'd come back! I +feel real nervous, hearing about it all. Oh, and her gold watch, too, +they got, and three solid silver teaspoons that belonged to her +mother. She's sick abed, Deacon Bassett says, and I don't wonder. I +don't feel as if I should sleep a wink to-night!" + +The color came into Don Alonzo's thin cheeks. "There sha'n't no one +do you any hurt while I'm round, Mira!" he said; and for a moment he +forgot his deformity, and straightened his poor shoulders, and held +up his head like a man. + +There was no shade of amusement in Mira Pitkin's honest smile. +"I expect you'd be as brave as a lion, Don 'Lonzo," she said. +"I expect you'd shoo 'em right out of the yard, same as you did the +turkey gobbler when he run at my red shawl; don't you remember? But +all the same, I hope they will not come; and I shall be glad to see +Joe back again." + +At that moment the lad caught sight of himself in the little +looking-glass that hung over his chest of drawers. Mira, watching him, +saw the sparkle go out of his eyes, saw his shoulders droop, and his +head sink forward; and she said, quickly: + +"But there! we've said enough about the burglars, I should think! +How's the experiments, Don 'Lonzo? I heard an awful fizzing going on, +just before Deacon Bassett came in. I expect you've got great things +hidden under that bed; I expect there's other perils round besides +burglars! Joe may come back and find us both blown into kindlin'-wood, +after all!" + +This was a favorite joke of theirs; she had the pleasure of seeing a +smile come into the boy's sad eyes; then, with another of those +motherly touches on his hair, she went away, singing, to her work. + +Don Alonzo looked after her. From the way his eyes followed her, she +might have been a glorified saint in robe and crown, instead of a +rosy-cheeked young woman in a calico gown. "There sha'n't nothing +hurt her while I'm round!" he muttered again. + +The night fell, dark and cloudy. Mrs. Pitkin went to bed early, +after shaking every door and trying every window to make sure that +all was safe. Don Alonzo went through the same process twice after +she was gone, but he did not feel like sleeping, himself. He lay +down on his bed, but his thoughts seemed dancing from one thing to +another,--to Brother Joe, travelling homeward now, he hoped, after a +week's absence; to Mira's goodness, her patience with his wayward +self, her kindness in letting him mess with chemicals, and turn the +shed into a laboratory, and frighten her with explosions; to Dan'l +Brown and Mis' Pegrum and the burglars. + +Ah, the burglars! What could he do, if they should really come to +the house? They were two men, probably well-grown; he--he knew what +he was! How could he carry out his promise to Mira, if she should be +in actual danger? Not by strength, clearly; but there must be some +way; bodily strength was not the only thing in the world. He looked +about him, seeking for inspiration; his eyes, wandering here and +there, lighted upon something, then remained fixed. The room was +dimly lighted by a small lamp, but the corners were dark, and in one +of these dark corners something was shining with a faint, uncertain +light. The phosphorescent match-box! He had made it himself, and had +ornamented it with a grotesque face in luminous paint. This face now +glimmered and glowered at him from the darkness; and Don Alonzo lay +still and looked back at it. Lying so and looking, there crept into +his mind an old story that he had once read; and he laughed to +himself, and then nodded at the glimmering face. "Thank you, old +fellow!" said Don Alonzo. + +Was there a noise? Was it his imagination, or did a branch snap, a +twig rustle down the road? The hunchback had ears like a fox, and in +an instant he was at the window, peering out into the darkness. At +first he could see nothing; but gradually the lilac bushes at the +gate came into sight, and the clumps of flowers in the little garden +plot. Not a breath was stirring, yet--hark! Again a twig snapped, a +branch crackled; and now again! and nearer each time. Don Alonzo +strained his eyes to pierce the darkness. Were those bushes, those +two shapes by the gate? They were not there a moment ago. Ha! they +moved; they were coming nearer. Their feet made no sound on the +soft earth, but his sharp ears caught a new sound,--a whisper, faint, +yet harsh, like a hiss. Don Alonzo had seen and heard enough. He +left the window, and the next moment was diving under the bed. + + * * * * * + +Mira Pitkin usually slept like a child, from the moment her head +touched the pillow till the precise second when something woke in +her brain and said "Five o'clock!" But to-night her sleep was broken. +She tossed and muttered in her dreams; and suddenly she sat up in bed +with eyes wide open and a distinct sense of something wrong. Her +first thought was of fire; she sniffed; the air was pure and clear. +Then, like a cry in her ears, came--"The burglars!" She held her +breath and listened; was the night as still as it was dark? No! a +faint, steady sound came to her ears. A mouse, was it, or--the sound +of a tool? + +And then, almost noiselessly, a window was opened, the window of the +upper entry, next her room. Mira was at her own window in an instant, +raising it; that, too, opened silently, for Joe was a carpenter and +detested noisy windows. She peered out into the thick darkness. Black, +black! Was the blackness deeper there, just at the front door? +Surely it was! Surely something, somebody, was busy with the lock of +the door; and then she heard, as Don Alonzo had heard, a low sound +like a hiss, beside the soft scraping of the tool. What should she do? +The windows were fast, there was a bar and chain inside the door, +but what of that? Two desperate men could force an entrance anywhere +in a moment. What could she do, a woman, with only a sickly boy to +help her? And--who had opened that upper window? Was there a third +accomplice--for she thought she could see two spots of deeper +blackness by the door--hidden in the house? Oh, if only Joe had +borrowed his father's old pistol for her, as she had begged him to do! + +Mira opened her lips to shout, in the hope of rousing the nearest +neighbors, though they were not very near. Opened her lips--but no +sound came from them. For at that instant something appeared at the +window next her own; something stepped from it, out on to the little +porch over the front door. Mira Pitkin gasped, and felt her heart +fail within her. A skeleton! Every limb outlined in pale fire, the +bony fingers points of wavering flame. What awful portent was this? +The Thing paused and turned, a frightful face gazed at her for an +instant, a hand waved, then the Thing dropped, silent as a shadow, on +that spot of deeper blackness that was stooping at the front door. + +Then rose an outcry wild and hideous. The burglar shouted hoarsely, +and tried to shake off the Thing that sat on his shoulders, gripping +his neck with hands of iron, digging his sides with bony knees and +feet; but the second thief, who saw by what his comrade was ridden, +shrieked in pure animal terror, uttering unearthly sounds that cut +the air like a knife. For a moment he could only stand and shriek; +then he turned and fled through the yard, and the other fled after +him, the glimmering phantom clutching him tight. Down the road they +fled. Mira could now see nothing save the riding Thing, apparently +horsed on empty air; but now she saw it, still clutching close with +its left hand, raise the right, holding what looked like a shining +snake, and bring it down hissing and curling. Again, and again! and +with every blow the shrieks grew more and more hideous, till now +they had reached the cluster of houses at the head of the street, +and every window was flung open, and lights appeared, and voices +clamored in terror and amaze. The village was roused; and now--now, +the glimmering skeleton was seen to loose its hold. It dropped from +its perch, and turning that awful face toward her once more, came +loping back, silent as a shadow. But when she saw that, Mira Pitkin, +for the first and last time in her sensible life, fainted away. + +When she came to herself, the skeleton was bending over her anxiously, +but its face was no longer frightful; it was white and anxious, and +the eyes that met hers were piteous with distress. + +"My, oh!" cried Don Alonzo. "I vowed no one should do her any hurt, +and now I've done it myself." + +There was little sleep in the Pitkin house that night. The neighbors +came flocking in with cries and questions; and when all was explained, +Don Alonzo found himself the hero of the hour. For once he did not +hide under the bed, but received everybody--from Deacon Bassett down +to the smallest boy who came running in shirt and trousers, +half-awake, and athirst for marvels--with modest pride, and told +over and over again how it all happened. + +'Twas no great thing, he maintained. He had fooled considerable with +phosphorus, and had some of the luminous paint that he had mixed +some time before. Thinking about these fellows, he remembered a +story he read once, where they painted up a dead body to scare away +some murdering robbers. He thought a living person was as good as a +dead one, any day; so he tried it on, and it appeared to succeed. He +didn't think likely those men would stop short of the next township, +from the way they were running when he got down. Oh, the snake? That +was Joe's whip. He presumed likely it hurt some, from the way they +yelled. + +But the best of all was when Joe came home, the very next day, and +when, the three of them sitting about the supper-table, Mira herself +told the great story, from the first moment of Deacon Bassett's +visit down to the triumphant close--"And I see him coming back, +shining like a corpse-candle, and I fell like dead on the floor!" + +"There!" she continued, beaming across the table at Joe, as she +handed him his fourth cup of coffee, "you may go away again whenever +you're a mind to; I sha'n't be afraid. You ain't half the man Don +'Lonzo is!" + +"I don't expect I be!" said big Joe, beaming back again. + +It seemed to Don Alonzo that their smiles made the kitchen warm as +June, though October was falling cold that year. + + + + +_THE SHED CHAMBER_ + + +"Well, I once answered an advertisement in the _Farmer's Friend_, +girls, and I have always been glad I did. It was that summer when +father broke his arm and the potato crop failed, and everything +seemed to be going wrong on the farm. There were plenty of girls to +do the work at home, and I thought I ought to get something outside +to do if I could. I tried here and there, but without success; at +last my eye caught a notice in the _Farmer's Friend_, just the same +kind of notice as that you are speaking of, Lottie: 'Wanted, a +capable, steady girl to assist in housework and take care of children. +Address, with reference, A. B. C., Dashville.' I talked it over with +mother, and she agreed with me; father didn't take so kindly to the +idea, naturally; he likes to have us all at home, especially in +summer. However, he said I might do as I pleased; so I answered the +notice and sent a letter from our pastor, saying what he thought of +me. I was almost ashamed to send it, too; he has always been more +than kind to me, you know; if I'd been his own daughter he couldn't +have said more. Well, they wrote for me to come, and I went. + +"Girls, it was pretty hard when it came to that part, leaving the +house, and mother standing in the doorway trying not to look anxious, +and father fretting and saying it was all nonsense, and he shouldn't +have hands enough to pick the apples. Of course he knew I knew better, +but I was glad he didn't want me to go, after all. Sister Nell and +Sister Margie had packed my trunk, and they were as excited as I was, +and almost wished they were going instead, but not quite, I think; +and so Joe whistled to old Senator, and I waved my handkerchief, and +mother and the two girls waved their aprons, and off I went. + +"I didn't really feel alone till I was in the train and had lost +sight of Joe standing and smoothing Senator's mane and nodding at me; +then the world seemed very big and Tupham Corner a very small corner +in it. I will not say anything more about this part; you'll find it +out soon enough yourselves, when you go away from home the first time. + +"It was a long journey, or it seemed so then; but everything comes +to an end some time, and there was plenty of daylight left for me to +see my new home when I arrived. It was a pleasant-looking house, +long and rambling, painted yellow, too, which made me more homesick +than ever. There were two children standing in the doorway, and +presently Mr. Bowles came out and shook hands with me and helped me +down with my things. He was a kind, sensible-looking man, and he +made the children come and speak to me and shake hands. They were +shy then and hung back, and put their fingers in their mouths; I +knew just how they felt. I wanted to hang back, too, when he took me +into the house to see Mrs. Bowles. She was an invalid, he told me, +and could not leave her room. + +"Girls, the minute I saw that sweet, pale face, with the look of +pain and patience in it, I knew what I had come for. I do think we +understood each other from the first minute, Mrs. Bowles and I; for +she held my hand a good while, looking into my face and I into hers, +and she must have seen how sorry I was for her, and how I hoped I +could help her; for when I went into the kitchen I heard her say, +with a little sigh, as she lay back again, 'O John, I do believe +this is the right one at last!' You may believe I made up my mind +that I would be the right one, Lottie! + +"That kitchen was in a scandalous condition. It was well I had seen +Mrs. Bowles first or I should have wanted to run away that very +minute. The eldest little girl--it seems strange to think that there +ever was a time when I didn't know Barbara's name!--followed me out,--I +think her father told her to,--and rubbed along against the wall, +just exactly as I used to when I felt shy. When I asked her a little +about where things were, and so on--they were everywhere and nowhere; +you never saw such a looking place in your life!--she took her +finger out of her mouth, and pretty soon I told her about our yellow +coon kittens, and after that we got on very well. She said they had +had one girl after another, each worse than the last. The shoe +factory had taken off all the good help and left only the incapable +ones. The last one, Barbara said, had almost starved them, and been +saucy to Mrs. Bowles, and dirty--well, there was no need to tell me +that. It was a shame to see good things so destroyed; for the things +were good, only all dirty and broken, and--oh, well! there's no use +in telling about that part. + +"I asked when her mother had had anything to eat, and she said not +since noon; I knew that was no way for an invalid to be taken care of, +so I put the kettle on and hunted about till I found a cup and saucer +I liked, and then I found the bread-box--oh, dear! that bread-box, +girls! But the mold scraped right off, and the bread wasn't really +bad; I made some toast and cut the crust off, and put just a thin +scrape of butter on it; then I sent Barbara in with a little tray +and told her to see that her mother took it all. I thought she'd +feel more like taking it from the child than from a stranger, if she +hadn't much appetite. My dears, the child came out again in a few +minutes, her face all alight. + +"'She drank it all, every drop!' she cried. 'And now she's eating +the toast. She said how did you know, and she cried, but now she's +all right. Father 'most cried, too, I think. Say!' + +"'Yes, dear.' + +"'Father says the Lord sent you. Did he?'" + +[Illustration: "'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'"] + +"I nodded, for I couldn't say anything that minute. I kissed the +little girl and went on with my cleaning. Girls, don't ever grudge +the time you spend in learning to cook nicely. Food is what keeps the +breath of life in us, and it all depends upon us girls now, and later, +when we are older women, whether it is good or bad. No, Sue, I'm not +going to preach, but I shall never forget how that tired man and +those hungry children enjoyed their supper. 'Twas mother's supper, +every bit of it, from the light biscuit down to the ham omelette; I +found the ham bone in a dark cupboard, all covered with mold, like +the bread, but 'twas good and sweet underneath. I only wish mother +had been there to see them eat. After supper Mr. Bowles came and +shook hands with me. I didn't know then that he never used any more +words than he had to; but I was pleased, if I did think it funny. + +"I was tired enough by the time bedtime came, and after I had put +the children to bed and seen that Mrs. Bowles was comfortable, and +had water and crackers and a candle beside her--she was a very poor +sleeper--I was glad enough to go to bed myself. Barbara showed me my +room, a pretty little room with sloping gables and windows down by +the floor. There were two doors, and I asked her where the other led +to. She opened it and said, 'The shed chamber.' I looked over her +shoulder, holding up the candle, and saw a great bare room, with +some large trunks in it, but no other furniture except a high +wardrobe. I liked the look of the place, for it was a little like +our play room in the attic at home; but I was too tired to explore, +and I was asleep in ten minutes from the time I had tucked up +Barbara in her bed, and Rob and Billy in their double crib. + +"I should take a week if I tried to tell you all about those first +days; and, after all, it is one particular thing that I started to +tell, only there is so much that comes back to me. In a few days I +felt that I belonged there, almost as much as at home; they were +that kind of people, and made me feel that they cared about me, and +not only about what I did. Mrs. Bowles has always been the best +friend I have in the world after my own folks; it didn't take us a +day to see into each other, and by and by it got to be so that I +knew what she wanted almost before she knew, herself. + +"At the end of the week Mr. Bowles said he ought to go away on +business for a few days, and asked her if she would feel safe to +stay with me and the children, or if he should ask his brother to +come and sleep in the house. + +"'No, indeed!' said Mrs. Bowles. 'I shall feel as safe with Nora as +if I had a regiment in the house; a good deal safer!' she added, and +laughed. + +"So it was settled, and the next day Mr. Bowles went away and I was +left in full charge. I suppose I rather liked the responsibility. I +asked Mrs. Bowles if I might go all over the house to see how +everything fastened, and she said, 'Of course.' The front windows +were just common windows, quite high up from the floor; but in the +shed chamber, as in my room, they opened near the floor, and there +was no very secure way of fastening them, it seemed to me. However, I +wasn't going to say anything to make her nervous, and that was the +way they had always had them. If I had only known! + +"After the children went to bed that evening I read to Mrs. Bowles +for an hour, and then I went to warm up a little cocoa for her; she +slept better if she took a drop of something hot the last thing. It +was about nine o'clock. I had just got into the kitchen, and was +going to light the lamp, when I heard the door open softly. + +"'Who's there?' I asked. + +"'Only me,' said a girl's voice. + +"I lighted my lamp, and saw a girl about my own age, pretty, and +showily dressed. She said she was the girl who had left the house a +few days ago; she had forgotten something, and might she go up into +the shed chamber and get it? I told her to wait a minute, and went +and asked Mrs. Bowles. She said yes, Annie might go up. 'Annie was +careless and saucy,' she said, 'but I think she meant no harm. She +can go and get her things.' + +"I came back and told the girl, and she smiled and nodded. I did not +like her smile, I could not tell why. I started to go with her, but +she turned on me pretty sharply, and said she had been in the house +three months and didn't need to be shown the way by a stranger. I +didn't want to put myself forward, but no sooner had she run +up-stairs, and I heard her steps in the chamber above me, than +something seemed to be pushing, pushing me toward those stairs, +whether I would or no. I tried to hold back, and tell myself it was +nonsense, and that I was nervous and foolish; it made no difference, +I had to go up-stairs. + +"I went softly, my shoes making no noise. My own little room was dark, +for I had closed the blinds when the afternoon sun was pouring in +hot and bright; but a slender line of light lay across the blackness +like a long finger, and I knew the moon was shining in at the +windows of the shed chamber. I did a thing I had never done before +in my life; that silver finger came through the keyhole, and it drew +me to it. I knelt down and looked through. + +"The big room shone bare and white in the moonlight; the trunks +looked like great animals crouching along the walls. Annie stood in +the middle of the room, as if she were waiting or listening for +something. Then she slipped off her shoes and went to one of the +windows and opened it. I had fastened it, but the catch was old and +she knew the trick of it, of course. In another moment something +black appeared over the low sill; it was a man's head. My heart +seemed to stand still. She helped him, and he got in without making +a sound. He must have climbed up the big elm-tree which grew close +against the house. They stood whispering together for a few minutes, +but I could not hear a word. + +"The man was in stocking feet; he had an evil, coarse face, yet he +was good-looking, too, in a way. I thought the girl seemed frightened, +and yet pleased, too; and he seemed to be praising her, I thought, +and once he put his arms round her and kissed her. She went to the +wardrobe and opened it, but he shook his head; then she opened the +great cedar trunk, and he nodded, and measured it and got into it +and sat down. It was so deep that he could sit quite comfortably +with the cover down. Annie shut it and then opened it again. + +"I had seen all I wanted to see. I slipped down-stairs as I heard +her move toward the door; when she came down I was stirring my cocoa +on the stove, with my back to her. She came round and showed me a +bundle she had in her hand, and said she must be going now. I kept +my face in the shadow as well as I could, for I was afraid I might +not be able to look just as usual; but I spoke quietly, and asked +her if she had found everything, and wished her good night as +pleasantly as I knew how. All the while my head was in a whirl and +my heart beat so loud I thought she must have heard it. There was a +good deal of silver in the house, and I knew that Mr. Bowles had +drawn some money from the bank only a day or two before, to pay a +life-insurance premium. + +"I never listened to anything as I did to the sound of her footsteps; +even after they had died away, after she had turned the corner, a +good way off, I stood still, listening, not stirring hand or foot. +But when I no longer heard any sound my strength seemed to come back +with a leap, and I knew what I had to do. I told you my shoes made +no noise. I slipped up-stairs, through my own room, and into the shed +chamber. Girls, it lay so peaceful and bare in the white moonlight, +that for a moment I thought I must have dreamed it all. + +"It seemed half a mile to the farther end, where the great cedar +trunk stood. As I went a board creaked under my feet, and I +heard--or fancied I heard--a faint rustle inside the trunk. I began +to hum a tune, and moved about among the trunks, raising and +shutting the lids, as if I were looking for something. Now at last I +was beside the dreadful chest, and in another instant I had turned +the key. Then, girls, I flew! I knew the lock was a stout one and +the wood heavy and hard; it would take the man some time to get it +open from the inside, whatever tools he might have. I was +down-stairs in one breath, praying that I might be able to control my +voice so that it would not sound strange to the sick woman. + +"'Would you mind if I went out for a few minutes, Mrs. Bowles? The +moonlight is so lovely I thought I would like to take a little walk, +if there is nothing you want.' + +"She looked surprised, but said in her kind way, yes, certainly I +might go, only I'd better not go far. + +"I thanked her, and walked quietly out to the end of the garden walk; +then I ran! Girls, I had no idea I could run so! Strength seemed +given me, for I never felt my body. I was like a spirit flying or a +wind blowing. The road melted away before me, and all the time I saw +two things before my eyes as plain as I see you now,--the evil-faced +man working away at the lock of the cedar chest, and the sweet lady +sitting in the room below with her Bible on her knee. Yes, I thought +of the children, too, but it seemed to me no one, not even the +wickedest, could wish to hurt a child. So on I ran! + +"I reached the first house, but I knew there was no man there, only +two nervous old ladies. At the next house I should find two men, +George Brett and his father. + +"Yes, Lottie, my George, but I had never seen him then. He had only +lately come back from college. The first I saw of him was two +minutes later, when I ran almost into his arms as he came out of the +house. I can see him now, in the moonlight, tall and strong, with +his surprised eyes on me. I must have been a wild figure, I suppose. +I could hardly speak, but somehow I made him understand. + +"He turned back to the door and shouted to his father, who came +hurrying out; then he looked at me. 'Can you run back?' he asked. + +"I nodded. I had no breath for words but plenty for running, I +thought. + +"'Come on, then!' + +"Girls, it was twice as easy running with that strong figure beside +me. I noticed in all my hurry and distress how easily he ran, and I +felt my feet, that had grown heavy in the last few steps, light as +air again. Once I sobbed for breath, and he took my hand as we ran, +saying, 'Courage, brave girl!' We ran on hand in hand, and I never +failed again. We heard Mr. Brett's feet running, not far behind; he +was a strong, active man, but could not quite keep up with us. + +"As we neared the house, 'Quiet,' I said; 'Mrs. Bowles does not know.'" + +He nodded, and we slipped in at the back door. In an instant his +shoes were off and he was up the back stairs like a cat, and I after +him. As we entered the shed chamber the lid of the cedar trunk rose. + +I saw the gleam of the evil black eyes and the shine of white, +wolfish teeth. Without a sound George Brett sprang past me; without +a sound the robber leaped to meet him. I saw them in the white light +as they clinched and stood locked together; then a mist came before +my eyes and I saw nothing more. + +"I did not actually faint, I think; it cannot have been more than a +few minutes before I came to myself. But when I looked again George +was kneeling with his knee on the man's breast, holding him down, +and Father Brett was looking about the chamber and saying, in his +dry way, 'Now where in Tunkett is the clothes-line to tie this fellow?' + +"And the girl? Annie? O girls, she was so young! She was just my own +age and she had no mother. I went to see her the next day, and many +days after that. We are fast friends now, and she is a good, steady +girl; and no one knows--no one except our two selves and two +others--that she was ever in the shed chamber." + + + + +_MAINE TO THE RESCUE_ + + +"Oh, dear! oh, dear! It's snowing!" + +"Hurrah! hurrah! It's snowing!" + +Massachusetts looked up from her algebra. She was the head of the +school. She was rosy and placid as the apple she was generally +eating when not in class. Apples and algebra were the things she +cared most about in school life. + +"Whence come these varying cries?" she said, taking her feet off the +fender and trying to be interested, though her thoughts went on with +"a 1/6 b =" etc. + +"Oh, Virginia is grumbling because it is snowing, and Maine is +feeling happy over it, that's all!" said Rhode Island, the smallest +girl in Miss Wayland's school. + +"Poor Virginia! It is rather hard on you to have snow in March, when +you have just got your box of spring clothes from home." + +"It is atrocious!" said Virginia, a tall, graceful, languishing girl. +"How could they send me to such a place, where it is winter all the +spring? Why, at home the violets are in blossom, the trees are coming +out, the birds singing--" + +"And at home," broke in Maine, who was a tall girl, too, but lithe +and breezy as a young willow, with flyaway hair and dancing brown +eyes, "at home all is winter--white, beautiful, glorious winter, +with ice two or three feet thick on the rivers, and great fields and +fields of snow, all sparkling in the sun, and the sky a vast +sapphire overhead, without a speck. Oh, the glory of it, the +splendor of it! And here--here it is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor +good red herring. A wretched, makeshift season, which they call +winter because they don't know what else to call it." + +"Come! come!" said Old New York, who was seventeen years old and had +her own ideas of dignity. "Let us alone, you two outsiders! We are +neither Eskimos nor Hindoos, it is true, but the Empire State would +not change climates with either of you." + +"No, indeed!" chimed in Young New York, who always followed her +leader in everything, from opinions down to hair-ribbons. + +"No, indeed!" repeated Virginia, with languid scorn. "Because you +couldn't get any one to change with you, my dear." + +Young New York reddened. "You are so disagreeable, Virginia!" she +said. "I am sure I am glad I don't have to live with you all the +year round--" + +"Personal remarks!" said Massachusetts, looking up calmly. "One cent, +Young New York, for the missionary fund. Thank you! Let me give you +each half an apple, and you will feel better." + +She solemnly divided a large red apple, and gave the halves to the +two scowling girls, who took them, laughing in spite of themselves, +and went their separate ways. + +"Why didn't you let them have it out, Massachusetts?" said Maine, +laughing. "You never let any one have a good row." + +"Slang!" said Massachusetts, looking up again. "One cent for the +missionary fund. You will clothe the heathen at this rate, Maine. +That is the fourth cent to-day." + +"'Row' isn't slang!" protested Maine, feeling, however, for her +pocket-book. + +"Vulgar colloquial!" returned Massachusetts, quietly. "And perhaps +you would go away now, Maine, or else be quiet. Have you learned--" + +"No, I haven't!" said Maine. "I will do it very soon, dear Saint +Apple. I must look at the snow a little more." + +Maine went dancing off to her room, where she threw the window open +and looked out with delight. The girl caught up a double handful and +tossed it about, laughing for pure pleasure. Then she leaned out to +feel the beating of the flakes on her face. + +"Really quite a respectable little snowstorm!" she said, nodding +approval at the whirling white drift. "Go on, and you will be worth +while, my dear." She went singing to her algebra, which she could not +have done if it had not been snowing. + +The snow went on increasing from hour to hour. By noon the wind +began to rise; before night it was blowing a furious gale. Furious +blasts clutched at the windows, and rattled them like castanets. The +wind howled and shrieked and moaned, till it seemed as if the air +were filled with angry demons fighting to possess the square white +house. + +Many of the pupils of Miss Wayland's school came to the tea-table +with disturbed faces; but Massachusetts was as calm as usual, and +Maine was jubilant. + +"Isn't it a glorious storm?" she cried, exultingly. "I didn't know +there could be such a storm in this part of the country, Miss Wayland. +Will you give me some milk, please?" + +"There is no milk, my dear," said Miss Wayland, who looked rather +troubled. "The milkman has not come, and probably will not come +to-night. There has never been such a storm here in my lifetime!" +she added. "Do you have such storms at home, my dear?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" Maine said, cheerfully. "I don't know that we +often have so much wind as this, but the snow is nothing out of the +way. Why, on Palm Sunday last year our milkman dug through a drift +twenty feet deep to get at his cows. He was the only milkman who +ventured out, and he took me and the minister's wife to church in +his little red pung. + +"We were the only women in church, I remember. Miss Betsy Follansbee, +who had not missed going to church in fifteen years, started on foot, +after climbing out of her bedroom window to the shed roof and +sliding down. All her doors were blocked up, and she lived alone, so +there was no one to dig her out. But she got stuck in a drift about +half-way, and had to stay there till one of the neighbors came by +and pulled her out." + +All the girls laughed at this, and even Miss Wayland smiled; but +suddenly she looked grave again. + +"Hark!" she said, and listened. "Did you not hear something?" + +"We hear Boreas, Auster, Eurus, and Zephyrus," answered Old New York. +"Nothing else." + +At that moment there was a lull in the screeching of the wind; all +listened intently, and a faint sound was heard from without which +was not that of the blast. + +"A child!" said Massachusetts, rising quickly. "It is a child's voice. +I will go, Miss Wayland." + +"I cannot permit it, Alice!" cried Miss Wayland, in great distress. +"I cannot allow you to think of it. You are just recovering from a +severe cold, and I am responsible to your parents. What shall we do? +It certainly sounds like a child crying out in the pitiless storm. +Of course it _may_ be a cat--" + +Maine had gone to the window at the first alarm, and now turned with +shining eyes. + +"It _is_ a child!" she said, quietly. "I have no cold, Miss Wayland. +I am going, of course." + +Passing by Massachusetts, who had started out of her usual calm and +stood in some perplexity, she whispered, "If it were freezing, it +wouldn't cry. I shall be in time. Get a ball of stout twine." + +She disappeared. In three minutes she returned, dressed in her +blanket coat, reaching half-way below her knees, scarlet leggings +and gaily wrought moccasins; on her head a fur cap, with a band of +sea-otter fur projecting over her eyes. In her hand she held a pair +of snow-shoes. She had had no opportunity to wear her snow-shoeing +suit all winter, and she was quite delighted. + +"My child!" said Miss Wayland, faintly. "How can I let you go? My +duty to your parents--what are those strange things, and what use +are you going to make of them?" + +By way of answer Maine slipped her feet into the snow-shoes, and, +with Massachusetts' aid, quickly fastened the thongs. + +"The twine!" she said. "Yes, that will do; plenty of it. Tie it to +the door-handle, square knot, so! I'm all right, dear; don't worry." +Like a flash the girl was gone out into the howling night. + +Miss Wayland wrung her hands and wept, and most of the girls wept +with her. Virginia, who was curled up in a corner, really sick with +fright, beckoned to Massachusetts. + +"Is there any chance of her coming back alive?" she asked, in a +whisper. "I wish I had made up with her. But we may all die in this +awful storm." + +"Nonsense!" said Massachusetts. "Try to have a little sense, Virginia! +Maine is all right, and can take care of herself; and as for +whimpering at the wind, when you have a good roof over your head, it +is too absurd." + +For the first time since she came to school Massachusetts forgot the +study hour, as did every one else; and in spite of her brave efforts +at cheerful conversation, it was a sad and an anxious group that sat +about the fire in the pleasant parlor. + +Maine went out quickly, and closed the door behind her; then stood +still a moment, listening for the direction of the cry. She did not +hear it at first, but presently it broke out--a piteous little wail, +sounding louder now in the open air. The girl bent her head to listen. +Where was the child? The voice came from the right, surely! She +would make her way down to the road, and then she could tell better. + +Grasping the ball of twine firmly, she stepped forward, planting the +broad snow-shoes lightly in the soft, dry snow. As she turned the +corner of the house an icy blast caught her, as if with furious hands, +shook her like a leaf, and flung her roughly against the wall. + +Her forehead struck the corner, and for a moment she was stunned; +but the blood trickling down her face quickly brought her to herself. +She set her teeth, folded her arms tightly, and stooping forward, +measured her strength once more with that of the gale. + +This time it seemed as if she were cleaving a wall of ice, which +opened only to close behind her. On she struggled, unrolling her +twine as she went. + +The child's cry sounded louder, and she took fresh heart. Pausing, +she clapped her hand to her mouth repeatedly, uttering a shrill, +long call. It was the Indian whoop, which her father had taught her +in their woodland rambles at home. + +The childish wail stopped; she repeated the cry louder and longer; +then shouted, at the top of her lungs, "Hold on! Help is coming!" + +Again and again the wind buffeted her, and forced her backward a +step or two; but she lowered her head, and wrapped her arms more +tightly about her body, and plodded on. + +Once she fell, stumbling over a stump; twice she ran against a tree, +for the white darkness was absolutely blinding, and she saw nothing, +felt nothing but snow, snow. At last her snow-shoe struck something +hard. She stretched out her hands--it was the stone wall. And now, +as she crept along beside it, the child's wail broke out again close +at hand. + +"Mother! O mother! mother!" + +The girl's heart beat fast. + +"Where are you?" she cried. At the same moment she stumbled against +something soft. A mound of snow, was it? No! for it moved. It moved +and cried, and little hands clutched her dress. + +She saw nothing, but put her hands down, and touched a little cold +face. She dragged the child out of the snow, which had almost +covered it, and set it on its feet. + +"Who are you?" she asked, putting her face down close, while by +vigorous patting and rubbing she tried to give life to the benumbed, +cowering little figure, which staggered along helplessly, clutching +her with half-frozen fingers. + +"Benny Withers!" sobbed the child. "Mother sent me for the clothes, +but I can't get 'em!" + +"Benny Withers!" cried Maine. "Why, you live close by. Why didn't +you go home, child?" + +"I can't!" cried the boy. "I can't see nothing. I tried to get to +the school, an' I tried to get home, an' I can't get nowhere 'cept +against this wall. Let me stay here now! I want to rest me a little." + +He would have sunk down again, but Maine caught him up in her strong, +young arms. + +"Here, climb up on my back, Benny!" she said, cheerfully. "Hold on +tight round my neck, and you shall rest while I take you home. So! +That's a brave boy! Upsy, now! there you are! Now put your head on +my shoulder--close! and hold on!" + +Ah! how Maine blessed the heavy little brother at home, who _would_ +ride on his sister's back, long after mamma said he was too big. How +she blessed the carryings up and down stairs, the "horsey rides" +through the garden and down the lane, which had made her shoulders +strong! + +Benny Withers was eight years old, but he was small and slender, and +no heavier than six-year-old Philip. No need of telling the child to +hold on, once he was up out of the cruel snow bed. He clung +desperately round the girl's neck, and pressed his head close +against the woollen stuff. + +Maine pulled her ball of twine from her pocket--fortunately it was a +large one, and the twine, though strong, was fine, so that there +seemed to be no end to it--and once more lowered her head, and set +her teeth, and moved forward, keeping close to the wall, in the +direction of Mrs. Withers's cottage. + +For awhile she saw nothing, when she looked up under the fringe of +otter fur, which, long and soft, kept the snow from blinding her; +nothing but the white, whirling drift which beat with icy, stinging +blows in her face. But at last her eyes caught a faint glimmer of +light, and presently a brighter gleam showed her Mrs. Withers's gray +cottage, now white like the rest of the world. + +Bursting open the cottage door, she almost threw the child into the +arms of his mother. + +The woman, who had been weeping wildly, could hardly believe her eyes. +She caught the little boy and smothered him with kisses, chafing his +cold hands, and crying over him. + +"I didn't know!" she said. "I didn't know till he was gone. I told +him at noon he was to go, never thinking 'twould be like this. I was +sure he was lost and dead, but I couldn't leave my sick baby. Bless +you, whoever you are, man or woman! But stay and get warm, and rest +ye! You're never going out again in this awful storm!" + +But Maine was gone. + +In Miss Wayland's parlor the suspense was fast becoming unendurable. +They had heard Maine's Indian whoop, and some of them, Miss Wayland +herself among the number, thought it was a cry of distress; but +Massachusetts rightly interpreted the call, and assured them that it +was a call of encouragement to the bewildered child. + +Then came silence within the house, and a prolonged clamor--a sort +of witches' chorus, with wailing and shrieking without. Once a heavy +branch was torn from one of the great elms, and came thundering down +on the roof. This proved the finishing touch for poor Virginia. She +went into violent hysterics, and was carried off to bed by Miss Way +land and Old New York. + +Massachusetts presently ventured to explore a little. She hastened +through the hall to the front door, opened it a few inches, and put +her hand on the twine which was fastened to the handle. What was her +horror to find that it hung loose, swinging idly in the wind! Sick +at heart, she shut the door, and pressing her hands over her eyes, +tried to think. + +Maine must be lost in the howling storm! She must find her; but +where and how? + +Oh! if Miss Wayland had only let her go at first! She was older; it +would not have mattered so much. + +But now, quick! she would wrap herself warmly, and slip out without +any one knowing. + +The girl was turning to fly up-stairs, when suddenly something fell +heavily against the door outside. There was a fumbling for the handle; +the next moment it flew open, and something white stumbled into the +hall, shut the door, and sat down heavily on the floor. + +"Personal--rudeness!" gasped Maine, struggling for breath. "You shut +the door in my face! One cent for the missionary fund." + +The great storm was over. The sun came up, and looked down on a +strange, white world. No fences, no walls; only a smooth ridge where +one of these had been. Trees which the day before had been quite +tall now looked like dwarfs, spreading their broad arms not far from +the snow carpet beneath them. Road there was none; all was smooth, +save where some huge drift nodded its crest like a billow curling +for its downward rush. + +Maine, spite of her scarred face, which showed as many patches as +that of a court lady in King George's times, was jubilant. Tired! +not a bit of it! A little stiff, just enough to need "limbering out," +as they said at home. + +"There is no butter!" she announced at breakfast. "There is no milk, +no meat for dinner. Therefore, I go a-snow-shoeing. Dear Miss Wayland, +let me go! I have learned my algebra, and I shall be discovering +unknown quantities at every step, which will be just as instructive." + +Miss Wayland could refuse nothing to the heroine of last night's +adventure. Behold Maine, therefore, triumphant, sallying forth, clad +once more in her blanket suit, and dragging her sled behind her. + +There was no struggling now--no hand-to-hand wrestling with +storm-demons. The sun laughed from a sky as blue and deep as her own +sky of Maine, and the girl laughed with him as she walked along, the +powdery snow flying in a cloud from her snow-shoes at every step. + +Such a sight had never been seen in Mentor village before. The +people came running to their upper windows--their lower ones were +for the most part buried in snow--and stared with all their eyes at +the strange apparition. + +In the street, life was beginning to stir. People had found, +somewhat to their own surprise, that they were alive and well after +the blizzard; and knots of men were clustered here and there, +discussing the storm, while some were already at work tunnelling +through the drifts. + +Mr. Perkins, the butcher, had just got his door open, and great was +his amazement when Maine hailed him from the top of a great drift, +and demanded a quarter of mutton with some soup meat. + +[Illustration: "MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT."] + +"Yes, miss!" he stammered, open-mouthed with astonishment. "I--I've +got the meat; but I wasn't--my team isn't out this morning. I don't +know about sending it." + +"I have a 'team' here!" said Maine, quietly, pulling her sled +alongside. "Give me the mutton, Mr. Perkins; you may charge it to +Miss Wayland, please, and I will take it home." + +The butter-man and the grocer were visited in the same way, and Maine, +rather embarrassed by the concentrated observation of the whole +village, turned to pull her laden sled back, when suddenly a window +was thrown open, and a voice exclaimed: + +"Young woman! I will give you ten dollars for the use of those +snow-shoes for an hour!" + +Maine looked up in amazement, and laughed merrily when she saw the +well-known countenance of the village doctor. + +"What! You, my dear young lady?" cried the good man. "This is 'Maine +to the Rescue,' indeed! I might have known it was you. But I repeat +my offer. Make it anything you please, only let me have the +snow-shoes. I cannot get a horse out, and have two patients +dangerously ill. What is your price for the magic shoes?" + +"My price, doctor?" repeated Maine, looking up with dancing eyes. +"My price is--one cent. For the Missionary Fund! The snow-shoes are +yours, and I will get home somehow with my sled and the mutton." + +So she did, and Doctor Fowler made his calls with the snow-shoes, +and saved a life, and brought cheer and comfort to many. But it was +ten dollars, and not one cent, which he gave to the Missionary Fund. + + + + +THE SCARLET LEAVES + + +"The Committee will please come to order!" said Maine. + +"What's up?" asked Massachusetts, pausing in her occupation of +peeling chestnuts. + +"Why, you know well enough, Massachusetts. Here it is Wednesday, and +we don't know yet what we are going to do on Friday evening. We must +do something, or go shamed to our graves. Never a senior class has +missed its Frivolous Friday, since the school began." + +"Absolutely no hope of the play?" + +"None! Alma's part is too important; no one could possibly take it +at two days' notice. Unless--they say Chicago has a real gift for +acting; but somehow, I don't feel as if she were the person." + +"I should bar that, positively," put in Tennessee. "In the first +place, Chicago has not been here long enough to be identified with +the class. She is clever, of course, or she could not have entered +junior last year; but--well, it isn't necessary to say anything more; +she is out of the question." + +"It is too exasperating!" said Massachusetts. "Alma might have +waited another week before coming down with measles." + +"It's harder for her than for any one else, Massachusetts," said +Maine. "Poor dear; she almost cried her eyes out yesterday, when the +spots appeared, and there was no more doubt." + +"Yes, I know that; she is a poor, unfortunate Lamb, and I love her, +you know I do; still, a growl may be permitted, Maine. There's +nothing criminal in a growl. The question is, as you were saying, +what shall we do?" + +"A dance?" + +"We had a dance last week!" said Maine; "at least the sophomores did, +and we don't want to copy them." + +"A straw-ride?" + +"A candy-pull?" + +"A concert?" + +"The real question is," said Tennessee, cracking her chestnut +leisurely, "what does Maine intend to do? If she thinks we made her +Class President because we meant to arrange things ourselves, she is +more ignorant than I supposed her. Probably she has the whole thing +settled in her Napoleonic mind. Out with it, Moosetocmaguntic!" + +Maine smiled, and looked round her. The Committee was clustered in a +group at the foot of a great chestnut-tree, at the very edge of a +wood. The leaves were still thick on the trees, and the October sun +shone through their golden masses, pouring a flood of warmth and +light down on the greensward, sprinkled with yellow leaves and +half-open chestnut burrs. Massachusetts and Tennessee, sturdy and +four-square as their own hills; Old New York and New Jersey, and +Maine herself, a tall girl with clear, kind eyes, and a color that +came and went as she talked. This was the Committee. + +[Illustration: THE CONFERENCE.] + +"Well," said Maine, modestly. "I did have an idea, girls. I don't +know whether you will approve or not, but--what do you say to a +fancy ball?" + +"A fancy ball! at two days' notice!" + +"Penobscot is losing her mind. Pity to see it shattered, for it was +once a fine organ." + +"Be quiet, Tennessee! I don't mean anything elaborate, of course. +But I thought we might have an informal frolic, and dress up in--oh, +anything we happened to have. Not call it a dance, but have dancing +all the same; don't you see? There are all kinds of costumes that +can be got up with very little trouble, and no expense to speak of." + +"For example!" said Massachusetts. "She has it all arranged, girls; +all we have to do is to sit back and let wisdom flow in our ears." + +"Massachusetts, if you tease me any more, _I'll_ sit back, and let +you do it all yourself. Well, then--let me see! Tennessee--to tell +the truth, I didn't sleep very well last night; my head ached; and I +amused myself by planning a few costumes, just in case you should +fancy the idea." + +"Quack! quack!" said Massachusetts. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but +you _are_ a duck, and I must just show that I can speak your language. +Go on!" + +"Tennessee, I thought you might be an Indian. You must have something +that will show your hair. With my striped shawl for a blanket, and +the cock's feather out of Jersey's hat--what do you think?" + +"Perfect!" said Tennessee. "And I can try effects with my new +paint-box, one cheek stripes, the other spots. Hurrah! next!" + +"Old New York, you must be a flower of some kind. Or--why not a +basket of flowers? You could have a basket-work bodice, don't you see? +and flowers coming out of it all round your neck--your neck is so +pretty, you ought to show it--" + +"Or carrots and turnips!" said the irrepressible Massachusetts. +"Call her a Harvest Hamper, and braid her lovely locks with strings +of onions!" + +"Thank you," laughed Old New York, a slender girl whose flower-like +beauty made her a pleasure to look at. "I think I'll keep to the posy, +Massachusetts. Go on, Maine! what shall Massachusetts be, and what +will you be yourself?" + +"Massachusetts ought by rights to be an apple, a nice fat rosy apple; +but I don't quite know how that can be managed." + +"Then I shall be a codfish!" said Massachusetts, decidedly. +"I am not going to desert Mr. Micawber--I mean the Bay State. I +shall go as a salt codfish. _Dixi_! Pass on to the Pine-Tree!" + +"Why, so I might be a pine-tree! I didn't think of that. But still, +I don't think I will; I meant to be October. The leaves at home are +so glorious in October, and I saw some scarlet leaves yesterday that +will be lovely for chaplets and garlands." + +"What are they? the maples don't turn red here--too near the sea, I +suppose." + +"I don't know what they are. Pointed leaves, rather long and delicate, +and the most splendid color you ever saw. There is just this one +little tree, near the crossroad by the old stone house. I haven't +seen anything like it about here. I found it yesterday, and just +stood and looked at it, it was so beautiful. Yes, I shall be October; +I'll decide on that. What's that rustling in the wood? aren't we all +here? I thought I heard something moving among the trees. I do +believe some one is in there, Massachusetts." + +"I was pulling down a branch; don't be imaginative, my dear. Well, +go on! are we to make out all the characters?" + +"Why--I thought not. Some of the girls will like better to choose +their own, don't you think? I thought we, as the Committee, might +make out a list of suggestions, though, and then they can do as they +please. But now, I wish some of you others would suggest something; +I don't want to do it all." + +"Daisy will have to be her namesake, of course," said Tennessee. + +"Jersey can be a mosquito," said Old New York; "she's just the +figure for it." + +"Thank you!" said Jersey, who weighed ninety pounds. "Going on that +theory, Pennsylvania ought to go as an elephant, and Rhode Island as +a giraffe." + +"And Chicago as a snake--no! I didn't mean that!" cried Maine. + +"You said it! you said it!" cried several voices, in triumph. + +"The Charitable Organ has called names at last!" said Jersey, +laughing. "And she has hit it exactly. Now, Maine, what is the use +of looking pained? the girl _is_ a snake--or a sneak, which amounts +to the same thing. Let us have truth, I say, at all hazards." + +"I am sorry!" said Maine, simply. "I am not fond of Chicago, and +that is the very reason why I should not call her names behind her +back. It slipped out before I knew it; I am sorry and ashamed, and +that is all there is to say. And now, suppose we go home, and tell +the other girls about the party." + +The Committee trooped off across the hill, laughing and talking, +Maine alone grave and silent. As their voices died away, the ferns +nodded beside a great pine-tree that stood just within the border of +the wood, not six yards from where they had been sitting. A slender +dark girl rose from the fern-clump in which she had been crouching, +and shook the pine-needles from her dress. Very cautiously she +parted the screen of leaves, and looked after the retreating girls. + +"That was worth while!" she said; and her voice, though quiet, was +full of ugly meaning. "Snakes can hear, Miss Oracle, and bite, too. +We'll see about those scarlet leaves!" + + + + +PART II + + + "Tra la, tra lee, + I want my tea!" + +Sang Tennessee, as she ran up-stairs. "Oh, Maine, is that you? my +dear, my costume is simply too perfect for anything. I've been out +in the woods, practising my war-whoop. Three yelps and a screech; I +flatter myself it is the _most_ blood-curdling screech you ever heard. +I'm going to have a dress-rehearsal now, all by myself. Come and +see--why, what's the matter, Maine? something is wrong with you. +What is it?" + +"Oh! nothing serious," said Maine, trying to speak lightly. +"I must get up another costume, that's all, and there isn't much time." + +"Why! what has happened?" + +"The scarlet leaves are gone." + +"Gone! fallen, do you mean?" + +"No! some one has cut or broken every branch. There is not one left. +The leaves made the whole costume, you see; it amounts to nothing +without them, merely a yellow gown." + +"Oh! my dear, what a shame! Who could have taken them?" + +"I cannot imagine. I thought I would get them to-day, and keep them +in water over night, so as to have them all ready to-morrow. Oh, well, +it can't be helped. I can call myself a sunflower, or Black-eyed +Susan, or some other yellow thing. It's absurd to mind, of course, +only--" + +"Only, being human, you do mind," said Tennessee, putting her arm +round her friend's waist. "I should think so, dear. We don't care +about having you canonized just yet. But, Maine, there must be more +red leaves somewhere. This comes of living near the sea. Now, in my +mountains, or in your woods, we could just go out and fill our arms +with glory in five minutes, whichever way we turned. These murmuring +pines and--well, I don't know that there are any hemlocks--are all +very splendid, and no one loves them better than I do; but for a +Harvest festival decoration, '_Ils ne sont pas la dedans_,' as the +French have it." + +"Slang, Tennessee! one cent!" + +"On the contrary; foreign language, mark of commendation. + +"But come now, and see my war-dance. I didn't mean to let any one +see it before-hand, but you are a dear old thing, and you shall. And +then, we can take counsel about your costume. Not that I have the +smallest anxiety about that; I've no doubt you have thought of +something pretty already. I don't see how you do it. When any one +says 'Clothes' to me, I never can think of anything but red flannel +petticoats, if you will excuse my mentioning the article. I think +Black-eyed Susan sounds delightful. How would you dress for it? you +have the pretty yellow dress all ready." + +"I should put brown velveteen with it. I have quite a piece left +over from my blouse. I'll get some yellow crepe paper, and make a hat, +or cap, with a brown crown, you know, and yellow petals for the brim; +and have a brown bodice laced together over the full yellow waist, +and--" + +The two girls passed on, talking cheerfully--it is always soothing +to talk about pretty clothes, especially when one is as clever as +Maine was, and can make, as Massachusetts used to say, a court train +out of a jack-towel. + +A few minutes after, Massachusetts came along the same corridor, and +tapped at another door. Hearing "Come in!" she opened the door and +looked in. + +"Busy, Chicago? beg pardon! Miss Cram asked me, as I was going by, to +show you the geometry lesson, as you were not in class yesterday." + +"Thanks! come in, won't you?" said Chicago, rising ungraciously from +her desk, "I was going to ask Miss Cram, of course, but I'm much +obliged." + +Massachusetts pointed out the lesson briefly, and turned to go, when +her eyes fell on a jar set on the ground, behind the door. + +"Hallo!" she said, abruptly. "You've got scarlet leaves, too. Where +did you get them?" + +"I found them," said Chicago, coldly. "They were growing wild, on +the public highway. I had a perfect right to pick them." + +There was a defiant note in her voice, and Massachusetts looked at +her with surprise. The girl's eyes glittered with an uneasy light, +and her dark cheek was flushed. + +"I don't question your right," said Massachusetts, bluntly, +"but I do question your sense. I may be mistaken, but I don't +believe those leaves are very good to handle. They look to me +uncommonly like dogwood. I'm not sure; but if I were you, I would +show them to Miss Flower before I touched them again." + +She nodded and went out, dismissing the matter from her busy mind. + +"Spiteful!" said Chicago, looking after her sullenly. + +"She suspects where I got the leaves, and thinks she can frighten me +out of wearing them. I never saw such a hateful set of girls as +there are in this school. Never mind, sweet creatures! The 'snake' +has got the scarlet leaves, and she knows when she has got a good +thing." + +She took some of the leaves from the jar, and held them against her +black hair. They were brilliantly beautiful, and became her well. +She looked in the glass and nodded, well pleased with what she saw +there; then she carefully clipped the ends of the branches, and put +fresh water in the jar before replacing them. + +"Indian Summer will take the shine out of Black-eyed Susan, I'm +afraid," she said to herself. "Poor Susan, I am sorry for her." She +laughed; it was not a pleasant laugh; and went back to her books. + + + + +PART III. + + +"What a pretty sight!" + +It was Miss Wayland who spoke. She and the other teachers were +seated on the raised platform at the end of the gymnasium. The long +room was wreathed with garlands and brilliantly lighted, and they +were watching the girls as they flitted by in their gay dresses, to +the waltz that good Miss Flower was playing. + +"How ingenious the children are!" Miss Wayland continued. "Look at +Virginia there, as Queen Elizabeth! Her train is my old party cloak +turned inside out, and her petticoat--you recognize that?" + +"I, not!" said Mademoiselle, peering forward. "I am too near of my +sight. What ees it?" + +"The piano cover. That Persian silk, you know, that my brother sent +me. I never knew how handsome it was before. The ruff, and those +wonderful puffed sleeves, are mosquito-netting; the whole effect is +superb--at a little distance." + +"I thought Virginie not suffeeciently clayver for to effect zis!" +said Mademoiselle. "Of custome, she shows not--what do you +say?--invention." + +"Oh, she simply wears the costume, with her own peculiar little air +of dignity. Maine designed it. Maine is costumer in chief. The +Valiant Three, Maine, Massachusetts, and Tennessee, took all the +unpractical girls in hand, and simply--dressed them. _Entre nous_, +Mademoiselle, I wish, in some cases, that they would do it every day." + +"_Et moi aussi_!" exclaimed Mademoiselle, nodding eagerly. + +"Maine herself is lovely," said Miss Cram. "I think hers is really +the prettiest costume in the room; all that soft brown and yellow is +really charming, and suits her to perfection." + +"Yes; and I am so glad of it, for the child was sadly disappointed +about some other costume she had planned, and got this up almost at +the last moment. She is a clever child, and a good one. Do look at +Massachusetts! Massachusetts, my dear child, what do you call +yourself? you are a most singular figure." + +"The Codfish, Miss Wayland; straight from Boston State-House. Admire +my tail, please! I got up at five o'clock this morning to finish it, +and I must confess I am proud of it." + +She napped her tail, which was a truly astonishing one, made of +newspapers neatly plaited and sewed together, and wriggled her body, +clad in well-fitting scales of silver paper. "Quite a fish, I +flatter myself?" she said, insinuatingly. + +"Very like a whale, if not like a codfish," said Miss Wayland, +laughing heartily. "You certainly are one of the successes of the +evening, Massachusetts, and the Mosquito is another, in that filmy +gray. Is that mosquito-netting, too? I congratulate you both on your +skill. By the way, what does Chicago represent? she is very effective, +with all those scarlet leaves. What are they, I wonder!" + +Massachusetts turned hastily, and a low whistle came from her lips. +"Whew! I beg pardon, Miss Wayland. It was the codfish whistled, not I; +it's a way they have on Friday evenings. I told that girl to ask +Miss Flower about those leaves; I am afraid they are--oh, here is +Miss Flower!" as the good botany teacher came towards them, rather +out of breath after her playing. + +"Miss Flower, what are those leaves, please? those in Chicago's hair, +and on her dress." + +Miss Flower looked, and her cheerful face grew grave. + +"_Rhus veneneta_" she said; "poison dogwood." + +"I was afraid so!" said Massachusetts. "I told her yesterday that I +thought they were dogwood, and advised her to show them to you +before she touched them again." + +"Poor child!" said kind Miss Flower. "She has them all about her +face and neck, too. We must get them off at once." + +She was starting forward, but Miss Wayland detained her. + +"The mischief is done now, is it not?" she said. "And after all, +dogwood does not poison every one. I have had it in my hands, and +never got the smallest injury. Suppose we let her have her evening, +at least till after supper, which will be ready now in a few minutes. +If she is affected by the poison, this is her last taste of the +Harvest Festivities." + +They watched the girl. She was receiving compliments on her striking +costume, from one girl and another, and was in high spirits. She +glanced triumphantly about her, her eyes lighting up when they fell +on Maine in her yellow dress. She certainly looked brilliantly +handsome, the flaming scarlet of the leaves setting off her dark +skin and flashing eyes to perfection. + +Presently she put her hand up to her cheek, and held it there a +moment. + +"Aha!" said Massachusetts, aloud. "She's in for it!" + +"In for what?" said Maine, who came up at that moment. Following the +direction of Massachusetts' eyes, she drew her apart, and spoke in a +low tone. "I shall not say anything, Massachusetts, and I hope you +will not. Don't you know?" she added, seeing her friend's look of +inquiry. "Those are my scarlet leaves." + +"No!" + +"Yes. I have found out all about it. Daisy lingered behind the rest +of us the other day, when I had been telling you all about the leaves, +to pick blackberries. She saw Chicago come out of the wood a few +minutes after we left, looking black as thunder. Don't you remember, +I thought I heard a rustling in the fern, and you laughed at me? She +was hidden there, and heard every word we said. Next day the leaves +were gone, and now they are on Chicago's dress instead of mine." + +"And a far better place for them!" exclaimed Massachusetts, +"though I am awfully sorry for her. Oh! you lucky, lucky girl! and +you dear, precious, stupid ignoramus, not to know poison dogwood +when you see it." + +"Poison dogwood! those beautiful leaves!" + +"Those beautiful leaves. That young woman is in for about two weeks +of as pretty a torture as ever Inquisitor or Iroquois could devise. +I know all about it, though there was a time when I also was ignorant. +Look! she is feeling of her cheek already; it begins to sting. +Tomorrow she will be all over patches, red and white; itching--there +is nothing to describe the itching. It is beyond words. Next day her +face will begin to swell, and in two days more--the School Birthday, +my dear--she will be like nothing human, a mere shapeless lump of +pain and horror. She will not sleep by night or rest by day. She +will go home to her parents, and they will not know her, but will +think we have sent them a smallpox patient by mistake. Her eyes--" + +"Oh, hush! hush, Massachusetts!" cried Maine. "Oh! poor thing! poor +thing! what shall I do? I feel as if it were all my fault, somehow." + +"Your fault that she sneaked and eavesdropped, and then stole your +decoration? Oh! come, Maine, don't be fantastic!" + +"No, Massachusetts, I don't mean that. But if I had only known, +myself, what they were, I should never have spoken of them, and all +this would never have happened." + +"The moral of which is, study botany!" said Massachusetts. + +"I'll begin to-morrow!" said Maine. + + * * * * * + +"And what is to be the end of the dogwood story, I wonder!" said +Tennessee, meeting Massachusetts in a breathless interval between +two exercises on the School Birthday, the crowning event of the +Harvest Festivities at Miss Wayland's. "Have you heard the last +chapter?" + +"No! what is it?" + +"Maine is in a dark room with the moaning Thing that was Chicago, +singing to her, and telling her about the speeches and things last +night. She vows she will not come out again to-day, just because she +was at chapel and heard the singing this morning; says that was the +best of it, and she doesn't care much about dancing. Maine! and +Miss Wayland will not let us break in the door and carry her off +bodily; says she will be happier where she is, and will always be +glad of this day. I'll tell you what it is, Massachusetts, if this +is the New England conscience I hear so much about, I'm precious +glad I was born in Tennessee." + +"No, you aren't, Old One! you wish you had been born in Maine." + +"Well, perhaps I do!" said Tennessee. + + +THE END. + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Green Satin Gown, by Laura E. 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Richards + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9397] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on September 29, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREEN SATIN GOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Robert Prince +and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +BY LAURA E. RICHARDS + +_Author of_ "Captain January," "Melody," "Three Margarets," +"Peggy," "Queen Hildegarde," etc., etc. + + +Illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +Published May, 1903 + + + + +TO +THE GIRLS OF +The Friday Club of Gardiner, Maine +THIS VOLUME +IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +BLUE EGYPTIANS + +LITTLE BENJAMIN + +DON ALONZO + +THE SHED CHAMBER + +MAINE TO THE RESCUE + +THE SCARLET LEAVES + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"THE FIRST TITTER PUT A FIRE IN MY VEINS THAT KEPT ME WARM ALL THE + EVENING" + +"GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP AGAIN" + +"'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; AND--IT'S CRYING!'" + +"'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'" + +"MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT" + +THE CONFERENCE + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + + +Who ever wore such a queer-looking thing? I wore it myself, dear, +once upon a time; yes, I did! Perhaps you would like to hear about it, +while you mend that tear in your muslin. Sit down, then, and let us +be cosy. + +I was making a visit in Hillton once, when I was seventeen years old, +just your age; staying with dear old Miss Persis Elderby, who is now +dead. I have told you about her, and it is strange that I have never +told you the story of the green satin gown; but, indeed, it is years +since I looked at it. We were great friends, Miss Persis and I; and +we never thought much about the difference in our ages, for she was +young for her years, and I was old for mine. In our daily walk +through the pretty, sleepy Hillton street--we always went for the +mail, together, for though Miss Persis seldom received letters, she +always liked to see mine, and it was quite the event of the day--my +good friend seldom failed to point out to me a stately mansion that +stood by itself on a little height, and to say in a tone of pride, +"The Le Baron place, my dear; the finest place in the county. Madam +Le Baron, who lives there alone now, is as great a lady as any in +Europe, though she wears no coronet to her name." + +I never knew exactly what Miss Persis meant by this last remark, but +it sounded magnificent, and I always gazed respectfully at the gray +stone house which sheltered so grand a personage. Madam Le Baron, it +appeared, never left the house in winter, and this was January. Her +friends called on her at stated intervals, and, to judge from +Miss Persis, never failed to come away in a state of reverential +enthusiasm. I could not help picturing to myself the great lady as +about six feet tall, clad in purple velvet, and waving a +peacock-feather fan; but I never confided my imaginings even to the +sympathetic Miss Persis. + +One day my friend returned from a visit to the stone house, quite +breathless, her pretty old face pink with excitement. She sat down +on the chair nearest the door, and gazed at me with, speechless +emotion. + +"Dear Miss Persis!" I cried. "What has happened? Have you had bad +news?" + +Miss Persis shook her head. "Bad news? I should think not, indeed! +Child, Madam Le Baron wishes to see you. More I cannot say at present. +Not a word! Put on your best hat, and come with me. Madam Le Baron +waits for us!" + +It was as if she had said, "The Sultan is on the front door-step." I +flew up-stairs, and made myself as smart as I could in such a hurry. +My cheeks were as pink as Miss Persis's own, and though I had not +the faintest idea what was the matter, I felt that it must be +something of vital import. On the way, I begged my companion to +explain matters to me, but she only shook her head and trotted on the +faster. "No time!" she panted. "Speech delays me, my dear! All will +be explained; only make haste." + +We made such haste, that by the time we rang at the door of the +stone house neither of us could speak, and Miss Persis could only +make a mute gesture to the dignified maid who opened the door, and +who looked amazed, as well she might, at our burning cheeks and +disordered appearance. Fortunately, she knew Miss Persis well, and +lost no time in ushering us into a cool, dimly lighted parlor, hung +with family portraits. Here we sat, and fanned ourselves with our +pocket-handkerchiefs, while I tried to find breath for a question; +but there was not time! A door opened at the further end of the room; +there was a soft rustle, a smell of sandal-wood in the air. The next +moment Madam Le Baron stood before us. A slender figure, about my +own height, in a quaint, old-fashioned dress; snowy hair, arranged +in puff on puff, with exquisite nicety; the darkest, softest eyes I +ever saw, and a general air of having left her crown in the next room; +this was the great lady. + +We rose, and I made my best courtesy,--we courtesied then, my dear, +instead of bowing like pump-handles,--and she spoke to us in a soft +old voice, that rustled like the silk she wore, though it had a clear +sound, too. "So this is the child!" she said. "I trust you are very +well, my dear! And has Miss Elderby told you of the small particular +in which you can oblige me?" + +Miss Persis hastened to say that she wasted no time on explanations, +but had brought me as quickly as might be, thinking that the main +thing. Madam Le Baron nodded, and smiled a little; then she turned +to me; a few quiet words, and I knew all about it. She had received +that morning a note from her grandniece, "a young and giddy person," +who lived in B----, some twenty miles away, announcing that she and +a party of friends were about to drive over to Hillton to see the +old house. She felt sure that her dear aunt would be enchanted to +see them, as it must be "quite too forlorn for her, all alone in +that great barn;" so she might expect them the next evening (that is, +the evening of this very day), in time for supper, and no doubt as +hungry as hunters. There would be about a dozen of them, probably, +but she knew there was plenty of room at Birchwood, and it would be +a good thing to fill up the empty rooms for once in a way; so, +looking forward to a pleasant meeting, the writer remained her +dearest aunt's "affectionate niece, Effie Gay." + +"The child has no mother," said Madam Le Baron to Miss Persis; then +turning to me, she said: "I am alone, save for my two maids, who are +of middle age, and not accustomed to youthful visitors. Learning +from my good friend, Miss Elderby, that a young gentlewoman was +staying at her house, I conceived the idea of asking you to spend +the night with me, and such portion of the next day as my guests may +remain. If you are willing to do me this service, my dear, you may +put off your bonnet, and I will send for your evening dress and your +toilet necessaries." + +I had been listening in a dream, hearing what was said, but thinking +it all like a fairy story, chiefly impressed by the fact that the +speaker was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. +The last sentence, however, brought me to my senses with a vengeance. +With scarlet cheeks I explained that I had brought no evening dress +with me; that I lived a very quiet life at home, and had expected +nothing different here; that, to be quite frank, I had not such a +thing as an evening dress in the world. Miss Persis turned pale with +distress and mortification; but Madam Le Baron looked at me quietly, +with her lovely smile. + +"I will provide you with a suitable dress, my child," she said. +"I have something that will do very well for you. If you like to go +to your room now, my maid will attend you, and bring what is +necessary. We expect our guests in time for supper, at eight o'clock." + +Decidedly, I had walked into a fairy tale, or else I was dreaming! +Here I sat in a room hung with flowered damask, in a wonderful chair, +by a wonderful fire; and a fairy, little and withered and brown, +dressed in what I knew must be black bombazine, though I knew it +only from descriptions, was bringing me tea, and plum-cake, on a +silver tray. She looked at me with kind, twinkling eyes, and said +she would bring the dress at once; then left me to my own wondering +fancies. I hardly knew what to be thinking of, so much was happening: +more, it seemed, in these few hours, than in all my life before. I +tried to fix my mind on the gay party that would soon fill the silent +house with life and tumult; I tried to fancy how Miss Effie Gay +would look, and what she would say to me; but my mind kept coming +back to the dress, the evening dress, that I was to be privileged to +wear. What would it be like? Would silk or muslin be prettier? If +only it were not pink! A red-haired girl in pink was a sad sight! + +Looking up, I saw a portrait on the wall, of a beautiful girl, in a +curious, old-time costume. The soft dark eyes and regal turn of the +head told me that it was my hostess in her youth; and even as I +looked, I heard the rustle again, and smelt the faint odor of +sandalwood; and Madam Le Baron came softly in, followed by the fairy +maid, bearing a long parcel. + +"Your gown, my dear," she said, "I thought you would like to be +preparing for the evening. Undo it, Jessop!" + +Jessop lifted fold on fold of tissue-paper. I looked, expecting I +know not what fairy thing of lace and muslin: I saw--the green satin +gown! + +We were wearing large sleeves then, something like yours at the +present day, and high collars; the fashion was at its height. This +gown had long, tight, wrinkled sleeves, coming down over the hand, +and finished with a ruffle of yellow lace; the neck, rounded and +half-low, had a similar ruffle almost deep enough to be called a ruff; +the waist, if it could be called a waist, was up under the arms: +briefly, a costume of my grandmother's time. Little green satin +slippers lay beside it, and a huge feather-fan hung by a green ribbon. +Was this a jest? was it--I looked up, with burning cheeks and eyes +suffused; I met a glance so kind, so beaming with good-will, that my +eyes fell, and I could only hope that my anguish had not been visible. + +"Shall Jessop help you, my dear?" said Madam Le Baron. "You can do +it by yourself? Well, I like to see the young independent. I think +the gown will become you; it has been considered handsome." She +glanced fondly at the shining fabric, and left the room; the maid, +after one sharp glance at me, in which I thought I read an amused +compassion, followed; and I was left alone with the green satin gown. + +Cry? No, I did not cry: I had been brought up not to cry; but I +suffered, my dear, as one does suffer at seventeen. I thought of +jumping out of the window and running away, back to Miss Persis; I +thought of going to bed, and saying I was ill. It was true, I said +to myself, with feverish violence: I _was_ ill, sick with shame and +mortification and disappointment. Appear before this gay party, +dressed like my own great-grandmother? I would rather die! A person +might easily die of such distress as this--and so on, and so on! + +Suddenly, like a cool touch on my brow, came a thought, a word of my +Uncle John's, that had helped me many a time before. + +"Endeavor, my dear, to maintain a sense of proportion!" + +The words fell with weight on my distracted mind. I sat up straight +in the armchair into which I had flung myself, face downward. Was +there any proportion in this horror? I shook myself, then put the +two sides together, and looked at them. On one side, two lovely old +ladies, one of whom I could perhaps help a little, both of whom I +could gratify; on the other, my own--dear me! was it vanity? I +thought of the two sweet old faces, shining with kindness; I fancied +the distress, the disappointment, that might come into them, if I-- + +"Yes, dear uncle," I said aloud, "I have found the proportion!" I +shook myself again, and began to dress. And now a happy thought +struck me. Glancing at the portrait on the wall, I saw that the fair +girl was dressed in green. Was it? Yes, it must be--it was--the very +same dress! Quickly, and as neatly as I could, I arranged my hair in +two great puffs, with a butterfly knot on the top of my head, in the +style of the picture; if only I had the high comb! I slipped on the +gown, which fitted me well enough. I put on the slippers, and tied +the green ribbons round and round my ankles; then I lighted all the +candles, and looked at myself. A perfect guy? Well, perhaps--and +yet-- + +At this moment Jessop entered, bringing a pair of yellow gloves; she +looked me over critically, saying nothing; glanced at the portrait, +withdrew, and presently reappeared, with the high tortoise-shell +comb in her hand. She placed it carefully in my hair, surveyed me +again, and again looked at the picture. Yes, it was true, the +necklace was wanting; but of course-- + +Really, Jessop was behaving like a jack-in-the-box! She had +disappeared again, and now here she was for the third time; but this +time Madam Le Baron was with her. The old lady looked at me silently, +at my hair, then up at the picture. The sight of the pleasure in her +lovely face trampled under foot, put out of existence, the last +remnant of my foolish pride. + +She turned to Jessop and nodded. "Yes, by all means!" she said. The +maid put into her hand a long morocco box; Madam kissed me, and with +soft, trembling fingers clasped the necklace round my neck. +"It is a graceful compliment you pay me, my child," she said, +glancing at the picture again, with eyes a little dimmed. "Oblige me +by wearing this, to complete the vision of my past youth." + +Ten stars of chrysoprase, the purest and tenderest green in the world, +set in delicately wrought gold. I need not describe the necklace to +you. You think it the most beautiful jewel in the world, and so do I; +and I have promised that you shall wear it on your eighteenth +birthday. + +Madam Le Baron saw nothing singular in my appearance. She never +changed the fashion of her dress, being of the opinion, as she told +me afterward, that a gentlewoman's dress is her own affair, not her +mantua-maker's; and her gray and silver brocade went very well with +the green satin. We stood side by side for a moment, gazing into the +long, dim mirror; then she patted my shoulder and gave a little sigh. + +"Your auburn hair looks well with the green," she said. "My hair was +dark, but otherwise--Shall we go down, my dear?" + +I will not say much about the evening. It was painful, of course; +but Effie Gay had no mother, and much must be pardoned in such a case. +No doubt I made a quaint figure enough among the six or eight gay +girls, all dressed in the latest fashion; but the first moment was +the worst, and the first titter put a fire in my veins that kept me +warm all the evening. An occasional glance at Madam Le Baron's +placid face enabled me to preserve my sense of proportion, and I +remembered that two wise men, Solomon and my Uncle John, had +compared the laughter of fools to the crackling of thorns under a pot. +And--and there were some who did not laugh. + +Pin it up, my dear! Your father has come, and will be wanting his tea. + +I can tell you the rest of the story in a few words. + +A year from that time Madam Le Baron died; and a few weeks after her +death, a parcel came for me from Hillton. + +Opening it in great wonder, what did I find but the gown, the green +satin gown, with the slippers and fan, and the tortoise-shell comb +in a leather case! Lifting it reverently from the box, the dress felt +singularly heavy on my arm, and a moment's search revealed a strange +matter. The pocket was full of gold pieces, shining half-eagles, +which fell about me in a golden shower, and made me cry out with +amazement; but this was not all! The tears sprang to my eyes as I +opened the morocco box and took out the chrysoprase necklace: tears +partly of gratitude and pleasure, partly of sheer kindness and love +and sorrow for the sweet, stately lady who had thought of me in her +closing days, and had found (they told me afterward) one of her last +pleasures in planning this surprise for me. + +There is something more that I might say, my dear. Your dear father +was one of that gay sleighing party; and he often speaks of the +first time he saw me--when I was coming down the stairs in the green +satin gown. + + + + +BLUE EGYPTIANS [1] + + +A PAPER-MILL STORY + +"I wouldn't, Lena!" + +"Well, I guess I shall!" + +"Don't, Lena! please don't! you will be sorry, I am sure, if you do +it. It cannot bring good, I know it cannot!" + +"The idea! Mary Denison, you are too old-fashioned for anything. I'd +like to know what harm it can do." + +The rag-room was nearly deserted. The whistle had blown, and most of +the girls had hurried away to their dinner. Two only lingered behind, +deep in conversation; Mary Denison and Lena Laxen. + +Mary was sitting by her sorting-table, busily sorting rags as she +talked. She was a fair, slender girl, and looked wonderfully fresh +and trim in her gray print gown, with a cap of the same material +fitting close to her head, and hiding her pretty hair. The other +girl was dark and vivacious, with laughing black eyes and a careless +mouth. She was picturesque enough in her blue dress, with the +scarlet handkerchief tied loosely over her hair; but both kerchief +and dress showed the dust plainly, and the dark locks that escaped +here and there were dusty too, showing little of the care that may +keep one neat even in a rag-room. + +"It's just as pretty as it can be!" Lena went on, half-coaxing, +half-defiant. "You ought to see it, Mame! A silk waist, every bit as +good as new, only of course it's mussed up, lying in the bag; and a +skirt, and lots of other things, all as nice as nice! I can't think +what the folks that had them meant, putting such things into the rags: +why, that waist hadn't much more than come out of the shop, you +might say. And do you think I'm going to let it go through the duster, +and then be thrown out, and somebody else get it? No, sir! and it's +no good for rags, you know it isn't, Mary Denison." + +"I know that it is not yours, Lena, nor mine!" said Mary, steadily. +"But I'll tell you what you might do; go straight to Mr. Gordon, and +tell him about the pretty waist,--very likely it got in by mistake, +--tell him it is no good for rags, and ask if you may have it. Like +as not he'll let you have it; and if not, you will find out what his +reason is. I think we ought to suppose he has some reason for what +he does." + +Lena laughed spitefully. + +"Like as not he's going to take it home to his own girl!" she said. +"I saw her in the street the other day, and I wouldn't have been +seen dead with the hat she had on; not a flower, nor even a scrap of +a feather; just a plain band and a goose-quill stuck in it. Real +poorhouse, I thought it looked, and he as rich as a Jew. I guess I +sha'n't go to Mr. Gordon; he's just as hateful as he can be. He gave +out word that no one was to touch that bag, nor so much as go near it; +and he had it set off in a corner of the outer shed, close by the +chloride barrels, so that everything in it will smell like poison. +If that isn't mean, I don't know what is. + +"Well, I can't stay here all day, Mame. Aren't you coming?" + +"Pretty soon!" said Mary. "Don't wait for me, Lena! I want to finish +this stint, so as to have the afternoon off. Mother's poorly to-day, +and I want to cook something nice for her supper." + +Lena nodded and went out, shutting the door with a defiant swing. +Mary looked after her doubtfully, as if hesitating whether she ought +not to follow and make some stronger plea; but the next moment she +bent over her work again. + +"I must hurry!" she said. "I'll see Lena after dinner, and try to +make her promise not to touch that bag. I don't see what has got +into her." + +Mary worked away steadily. The rags were piled in an iron sieve +before her; they were mostly the kind called "Blue Egyptians," +cotton cloth dyed with indigo, which had come far across the sea from +Egypt. Musty and fusty enough they were, and Mary often turned her +head aside as she sorted them carefully, putting the good rags into +a huge basket that stood beside her on the floor, while the bits of +woollen cloth, of paper and string and other refuse, went into +different compartments of the sorting-table, which was something +like an old-fashioned box-desk. + +Mary was a quick worker, and her basket was already nearly full of +rags. Fastened upright beside her seat was a great knife, not unlike +a scythe-blade, with which she cut off the buttons and hooks and eyes, +running the garment along the keen edge with a quick and practised +hand. Usually she amused herself by imagining stories about the +buttons and their former owners, for she was a fanciful girl, and +her child-life, without brothers or sisters, had bred in her the +habit of solitary play and "make-believe," which clung to her now +that she was a tall girl of sixteen. But to-day she was not thinking +of the Blue Egyptians. Her thoughts were following Lena on her +homeward way, and she was hoping devoutly that her own words might +have had some effect, and that Lena might pass by the forbidden bag +without lingering to be further tempted. It _was_ strange that this +one special bundle of rags, coming from a village at some distance, +should have been kept apart when the day's allowance was put into +the dusters. But--"Mother always says we ought to suppose there is a +reason for things!" she said to herself. And she shook her head +resolutely, and tried to make a "button-play." + +She pulled from the heap before her a dark blue garment, and turned +it over, examining it carefully. It seemed to be a woman's jacket. +It was of finer material than most of the "Egyptians," and the +fashion was quaint and graceful. There were remnants of embroidery +here and there, and the heavy glass buttons were like nothing Mary +had ever seen before. + +"I'll keep these," she said, "for little Jessie Brown; she will be +delighted with them. That child does make so much out of so little, +I'm fairly ashamed sometimes. These will be a fortune to Jessie. +I'll tell her that I think most likely they belonged to a princess +when they were new; they were up and down the front of a dress of +gold cloth trimmed with pearls, and she looked perfectly beautiful +when she had it on, and the Prince of the Fortunate Islands fell in +love with her." + +Buttons were a regular perquisite of the rag-girls in the Cumquot +Mill; indeed, any trifle, coin, or seal, or medal, was considered +the property of the finder, this being an unwritten law of the +rag-room. + +Mary cut the buttons off, and slipped them into her pocket; then she +ran her fingers round the edge of the jacket, in case there were any +hooks or other hard substance that had escaped her notice, and that +might blunt the knives of the cutter, into which it would next go. + +In a corner of the lining, her fingers met something hard. Here was +some object that had slipped down between the stuff and the lining, +and must be cut out. Mary ran the jacket along the cutting-knife, +and something rolled into her lap. Not a button this time! she held +it up to the light, and examined it curiously. It was a brooch, of +glass, or clear stones, in a tarnished silver setting. Dim and dusty, +it still seemed full of light, and glanced in the sun as Mary held +it up. + +"What a pretty thing!" she said. "I wonder if it is glass. I must +take this to Mr. Gordon, for I never found anything like it before. +Jessie cannot have this." + +She laid it carefully aside, and went on with her sorting, working +so quickly that in a few moments the sieve was empty, and the basket +piled with good cotton rags, ready for the cutting-machine. + +Taking her hat and shawl, Mary passed out, holding the brooch +carefully in her hand. There were few people in the mill, only the +machine-tenders, walking leisurely up and down beside their machines, +which whirred and droned on, regardless of dinnertime. The great +rollers went round and round, the broad white streams flowed on and +on over the screens, till the mysterious moment came when they +ceased to be wet pulp and became paper. + +Mary hardly glanced at the wonderful machines; they were an old +story to her, though in every throb they were telling over and over +the marvellous works of man. The machine-tenders nodded kindly in +return to her modest greeting, and looked after her with approval, +and said, "Nice gal!" to each other; but Mary hurried on until she +came to the finishing-room. Here she hoped to find a friend whom she +could consult about her discovery; and, sure enough, old James +Gregory was sitting on his accustomed stool, tying bundles of paper +with the perfection that no one else could equal. His back was +turned to the door, and he was crooning a fragment of an old +paper-mill song, which might have been composed by the beating +engine itself, so rhythmic and monotonous it was. + + + "'Gene, 'Gene, + Made a machine; + Joe, Joe, + Made it go; + Frank, Frank, + Turned the crank, + His mother came out, + And gave him a spank, + And knocked him over + The garden bank." + + +At Mary's cheerful "Good morning, Mr. Gregory!" the old man turned +slowly, and looked at the young girl with friendly eyes. + +"Good day, Mary! glad to see ye! goin' along home?" + +"In just a minute! I want to show you something, Mr. Gregory, and to +ask your advice, please." + +The old finisher turned completely round this time, and looked his +interest. Mary opened her hand, and displayed the brooch she had +found. + +James Gregory drew his lips into the form of a whistle, but made no +sound. He looked from the brooch to Mary, and back again. + +"Well?" he said. + +"I found it in the rags; blue Egyptians, you know, Mr. Gregory. It +was inside the lining of a jacket. Do you think--what do you think +about it? is it glass, or--something else?" + +Gregory took the ornament from her, and held it up to the light, +screwing his eyes to little points of light; then he polished it on +his sleeve, and held it up again. + +[Illustration: "GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP +AGAIN."] + +"Something else!" he said, briefly. + +"Is it--do you think it might be worth something, Mr. Gregory?" +asked Mary, rather timidly. + +"Yes!" roared Gregory, with a sudden explosion. "I do! I b'lieve +them's di'monds, sure as here I sit. Mary Denison, you've struck it +this time, or I'm a Dutchman." + +He got off his stool in great excitement, and walked up and down the +room, still holding the brooch in his hand. Mary looked after him, +and her face was very pale. She said one word softly, "Mother!" that +was all. + +Mary Denison and her mother were poor. Mrs. Denison was far from +strong, and they had no easy time of it, for there was little save +Mary's wages to feed and clothe the two women and pay their rent. +James Gregory knew all this; his pale old face was lighted with +emotion, and he stumped up and down the room at a rapid pace. + +Suddenly he stopped, and faced the anxious girl, who was following +him with bewildered eyes. + +"Findin's havin'!" he said, abruptly. "That's paper-mill law. Some +folks would tell ye to keep this to yourself, and sell it for what +you could get." + +Mary's face flushed. + +"But you do not tell me that!" she said, quietly. + +"No!" roared the old man, with another explosion, stamping violently +on the floor. "No, I don't. You're poor as spring snakes, and your +mother's sickly, and you've hard work to get enough to keep the +flesh on your bones; but I don't tell ye to do that. I tell ye to +take it straight to the Old Man, and tell him where ye found it, and +all about it. I've knowed him ever since his mustash growed, and +before. You go straight to him! He's in the office now." + +"I was going!" said Mary, simply. "I thought I'd come and see you +first, Mr. Gregory, you've always been so good to mother and me. +You--you couldn't manage to come with me, could you? I am afraid of +Mr. Gordon; I can't help it, though he is always pleasant to me." + +"I'll go!" said old James, with alacrity. "You come right along with +me!" + +In his eagerness he seized Mary by the arm, and kept his hold on her +as they passed out through the mill. The few "hands" who were at +work here and there gazed after them in amazement; for the old man +was dragging the girl along as if he had caught her in some offence, +and was going to deliver her up to justice. + +The same impression was made in the office, when the pair appeared +there. The two clerks stared open-mouthed, and judged after their +nature; for one of them said, instantly, to himself, "It's a mistake!" +while the other said, "I always knew that Denison girl was too pious +to last!" + +A tall man who sat at a desk in the corner looked up quietly. + +"Ah, Gregory!" he said. "What is it? Mary Denison? Good morning, Mary! +Anything wrong in the rag-room?" + +Gregory waved his hat excitedly. + +"If you'd look here, sir!" he said. "If you would just cast your eye +over that article, and tell this gal what you think of it! Blue +Egyptians, sir! luckiest rags that ever come into this mill, I've +always said. Well, sir?" + +Mr. Gordon was not easily stirred to excitement. It seemed an age to +the anxious girl and the impetuous old man, as he turned the brooch +over and over, holding it up in every light, polishing it, breathing +on it, then polishing it again. Gregory's hands twitched with +eagerness, and Mary felt almost faint with suspense. + +"You found this in the rags?" he asked at length, turning to Mary. +He spoke in his ordinary even tone, and Mary's heart sank, she could +not have told why. + +"Yes, sir!" she faltered. "I found it in a blue jacket. It was in +between the stuff and the lining. There were glass buttons on the +jacket." + +She drew them from her pocket and held them out; but Mr. Gordon, +after a glance, waved them back. + +"Those are of no value!" he said. "About this brooch, I am not so +sure. The stones may be real stones--I incline to think they are; +but it is possible that they may be paste. The imitations are +sometimes very perfect; no one but a jeweller can tell positively. I +will take it to Boston with me to-morrow, and have it examined." + +He dropped the brooch into a drawer at his side, turned the key and +put it in his pocket, all in his quiet, methodical way, as if he +were in the habit of examining diamond brooches every day; then he +nodded kindly to the pair, and bent over his papers again. + +Mary went out silently, and Gregory followed her with a dazed look +on his strong features. He looked back at the door two or three times, +but said nothing till they were back in the finishing-room. + +Then--"It's one of his days!" he said. "I've knowed him ever since +his mustash growed, and there's days when he's struck with a dumb +sperit, just like Scriptur'. Don't you fret, Mary! He'll see you +righted, or I'll give you my head." + +Mary might have thought that Mr. Gregory's head would be of little +use to her without the rest of him. She felt sadly dashed and +disappointed. She hardly knew what she had expected, but it was +something very different from this calm, every-day reception, this +total disregard of her own and her companion's excitement. + +"I guess he thinks they're nothing great!" she said, wearily. +"What was that he said about paste, Mr. Gregory? You never saw any +paste like that, did you? + +"No!" said Gregory, "I've heered of Di'mond Glue, but 'twan't +nothin' like stones--nor glass neither. You may run me through the +calenders if I know what he's drivin' at. But I'll trust him!" he +added, vehemently. "I done right to tell you to go to him. He's in +one of his moods to-day, but you'll hear from him, if there's +anything to hear, now mark my words! And now I'd go home, if I was +you, and see your ma'am, and get your dinner. And--Mary--I dono as +I'd say anything about this, if I was you. Things get round so in a +mill, ye know." + +Mary nodded assurance, and went home, trying to feel that nothing of +importance had happened. Do what she would, however, the golden +visions would come dancing before her eyes. Suppose--suppose the +stones should be real, after all! and suppose Mr. Gordon should give +her a part, at least, of the money they might bring in Boston. It +might--she knew diamonds were valuable--it might be thirty or forty +dollars. Oh! how rich she would be! The rent could be paid some time +in advance, and her mother could have the new shawl she needed so +badly: or would a cloak be better? cloaks were more in fashion, but +Mother said a good shawl was always good style. + +Turning the corner by her mother's house, she met one of the clerks +who had been in the office when she went in there. He looked at her +with the smile she always disliked, she hardly knew why. + +"You did the wrong thing that time, Miss Denison!" he said. + +"What do you mean, Mr. Hitchcock?" asked Mary. + +"You'll never see your diamonds again, nor the money for them!" +replied the man. "That's easy guessing. He'll come back and tell you +they're glass or paste, and that's the last you'll hear of them. And +the diamonds--for they are diamonds, right enough--will go into his +pocket, or on to his wife's neck. I know what's what! I wasn't born +down in these parts." + +"You don't know Mr. Gordon!" said Mary, warmly. "That isn't the way +he is thought of by those who do know him." + +The clerk was a newcomer from another State, and was not liked by +the mill-workers. + +"I know his kind!" he said, with a sneer; "and they're no good to +your kind, Mary Denison, nor to mine. Mark my words, you'll hear no +more of that breastpin." + +Mary turned away so decidedly that he said no more, but his eyes +followed her with a sinister look. + +Next moment he was greeting Lena Laxen cordially, and she was +dimpling and smiling all over at his compliments. Lena thought +Mr. Hitchcock "just elegant!" and believed that Mary was jealous when +she said she did not like him. Something now prompted her to tell +him about the silk waist in the forbidden sack; he took her view at +once and zealously. The boss (for he did not use the kindly title of +"Old Man," by which the other mill-hands designated Mr. Gordon, +though he was barely forty) had his eye on the things, most likely, +as he had on the pin Mary Denison found. Hadn't Lena heard about that? +Well, it was a burning shame, he could tell her; he would see that +she, Lena, wasn't fooled that way. And Lena, listening eagerly, +heard a story very different from that which had been told to +Mr. Gordon. + +In an hour the whole mill knew that Mary Denison had found a diamond +pin in the rags, and that Mr. Gordon had told her it was nothing but +hard glue, and had sold it himself in Boston for a thousand dollars, +and spent the money on a new horse. + +Nor was this all! Late that evening Lena Laxen stole from her home +with a shawl over her head, and met the clerk by the corner of the +outer shed. A few minutes of whispering and giggling, and she stole +back, with a bundle under her shawl; while Hitchcock tied a bright +silk handkerchief round his neck, and strutted off with the air of a +conqueror. + +Next morning, as Mary Denison was going to her work, Lena rapped on +the window, and called her attention by signs to the bodice she had +on. It was a gay striped silk, little worn, but still showing, in +spite of pressing, the marks of crumpling and tossing. The bright +colors suited Lena's dark skin well, and as she stood there with +flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, Mary thought she had never seen +her look prettier. At first she nodded and smiled in approval; but +the next moment a thought darted into her mind that made her clasp +her hands, and cry anxiously: + +"Oh! Lena, you didn't do it! you never did it! it's not _that_ waist +you have on?" + +Lena affected not to hear. She only nodded and laughed triumphantly, +and turned away, leaving Mary standing pale and distressed outside +the window. + +Mary hesitated. Should she go in and reason further with the wilful +girl, and try to persuade her to restore the stolen garment? +Something told her it would be useless; but still she was on the +point of going in, when old James Gregory came by, and asked her to +walk on with him. + +She complied, but not without an anxious look back at the window, +where no one was now to be seen. + +"Well, May," said Gregory, "how're ye feelin' to-day? hearty? that's +clever! I hope you wasn't frettin' about that pin any. Most girls +would, but you ain't the fool kind." + +"I don't know, Mr. Gregory!" said Mary, laughing. "I'm afraid I have +thought about it more or less, but I haven't been fretting. Where's +the use?" + +"Jes' so! jes' so!" assented the old man, with alacrity. + +"And I didn't say anything to Mother," Mary went on. "I didn't want +her to know about it unless something was really coming of it. Poor +Mother! she has enough to think about." + +"She has so!" said Gregory. "A sight o' thinkin' your mother doos, +Mary, and good thoughts, every one of 'em, I'll bet my next pay. +She's a good woman, your mother; I guess likely you know it without +me sayin' so. I call Susan Denison the best woman I know, and I've +told my wife so, more times than she says she has any occasion for. +I don't say she's an angel, but she's a good woman, and that's as fur +as we're likely to get in this world. + +"But that ain't what I wanted to say to you, May! Somehow or 'nother, +the story's got round about your findin' that pin yesterday. You +didn't say nothin'?" + +"Not a word!" said Mary. "How could it--" + +"'Twas that pison Hitchcock, I expect!" said Gregory. "I see him +lookin' up with his little eyes, as red as a ferret, and as ugly. I +bet he started the hull thing; and he's tacked on a passel of lies, +and the endurin' place is hummin' with it. Thought I'd tell ye +before ye went in, so's ye could fix up a little what to say." + +Mary thanked him cordially, and passed on into the mill: the old man +looked after her with a very friendly glance in his keen blue eyes. + +"She's good stuff, May is!" he murmured. "Good stuff, like her mother. + +"Folks is like rags, however you look at 'em. Take a good linen rag, +no matter how black it is, and put it through the washers, and the +bleachers, and the cutters, and all the time it's gettin' whiter and +whiter, and sweeter and sweeter, the more you bang it round; till at +last you have bank-note paper, and write to the Queen of England on +it, if you're a mind to, and she won't have none better. And take +jute or shoddy, and the minute you touch to wash it, it cockles up, +or drops to pieces, and it ain't no good to mortal man. Jest like +folks, I tell ye! and May and her mother's pure linen clippin's, if +ever I see 'em." + +Forewarned is forearmed, and Mary met quietly the buzz of inquiry +that greeted her when she entered the rag-room. The girls crowded +round her, the men were not far behind. To each and all Mary told the +simple truth, trying not to say a word too much. "The tongue is a +fire!" her mother's favorite text, was constantly in her mind, and +she was determined that no ill word should be spoken of Mr. Gordon, +if she could help it. Almost every one in the mill liked and +respected the "Old Man;" but the human mind loves a sensation, and +Lena and Hitchcock had told their story so vividly the day before +that Mary's account seemed tame and dull beside it; and some of the +hands preferred to think that "Mame Denison was a sly one, and +warn't goin' to let on, fear some one'd git ahead of her." + +Lena, who came shortly, in her usual dress, fostered this feeling, +not from malice, but from sheer love of excitement and gossip. In +spite of Mary's efforts, the excitement increased, and when, late in +the afternoon, word came that Mary Denison was wanted in the office, +the rag-room was left fairly bubbling with wild surmise. + +Mr. Gordon did not see Mary when she came in. He was standing at his +desk, with an open letter in his hand, and his face was disturbed as +he spoke to the senior clerk. + +"Myers, it is as I feared about that bag of rags from Blankton. You +have kept it carefully tied up, and close by the chlorides, as I +told you?" + +Myers, a clear-eyed, honest-browed man, looked troubled. + +"I did, sir!" he said. "I have looked at the bag every time I passed +that way, and have cautioned every one in the mill not to go near it, +besides keeping the shed-gate locked; but this morning I found that +it had been tampered with, and evidently something taken out. I hope +there is nothing wrong, sir!" + +George Gordon struck his hand heavily on the desk. "Wrong!" he +repeated. "There have been two fatal cases of smallpox in Blankton, +and that bag has been traced to the house where they were." + +There was a moment of deathly silence. He went on: + +"I suspected something wrong, the moment you told me of things that +looked new and good; but I did not want to raise a panic in the mill, +when there might be some other explanation. I thought I had taken +every precaution--what is that?" + +He turned quickly, hearing a low cry behind him. Mary Denison was +standing with clasped hands, her face white with terror. + +"Mary!" said Mr. Gordon, in amazement. "You--surely you have had +nothing to do with this?" + +"No, sir!" cried Mary. "Oh, no, Mr. Gordon, indeed I have not. But I +fear--I fear I know who has. Oh, poor thing! poor Lena!" + +Then, with an impulse she could not explain, she turned suddenly +upon Hitchcock. + +"Who let Lena Laxen into the yard last night?" she cried. "She could +not have got in without help. You had a key--you were talking to her +after I left her yesterday. Oh! look at him, Mr. Gordon! Mr. Myers, +look at that man!" + +But Hitchcock did not seem to hear or heed her. He sat crouched over +his desk, his face a greenish-gray color, his eyes staring, his +hands clutching the woodwork convulsively; an awful figure of terror, +that gasped and cowered before them. Then suddenly, with a cry that +rattled in his throat, he dashed from his seat and ran bareheaded +out of the door. + +Myers started up to pursue him, but Mr. Gordon held up his hand. + +"Let him go!" he said, sternly. "It may be that he carries his +punishment with him. In any case we shall see him no more." + +Quickly and quietly he gave Myers his orders; to take Lena Laxen to +her home, notify the physician, and proclaim a strict quarantine; to +burn the infected rags without loss of time; to have every part of +the shed where the fatal bag had stood thoroughly disinfected. When +the man had hastened away, Mr. Gordon turned to Mary, and his stern +face lightened. + +"Do not distress yourself, Mary," he said, kindly. "It may be that +Lena will escape the infection; it seems that she only had the +garment on a few minutes; and you did all you could, I am sure, to +dissuade her from this piece of fatal and dishonest folly." + +"Oh! I might have said more!" cried Mary, in an agony of +self-reproach. "I meant to go into her house this morning, and try +to make her hear reason; it might not have been too late then." + +"Thank Heaven you did not!" said Mr. Gordon, gravely. "The air of +the house was probably already infected. No one save the doctor must +go near that house till all danger of the disease developing is over." + +He then told Mary briefly why he had sent for her. Finding that he +could not go to Boston himself at present, as he had planned, he had +sent the brooch by express to a jeweller whom he knew, and would be +able to tell her in a few days whether it was of real value or not. +Mary thanked him, but his words fell almost unheeded on her ears. +What were jewels or money, in the face of a danger so awful as that +which now threatened her friend, and, through her, the whole village? + +Days of suspense followed. From the moment when the weeping, +agonized Lena was taken home and put, tenderly, pityingly, in her +mother's hands (it was Mr. Gordon himself who had done this, refusing +to let any other perform the duty), an invisible line was drawn +about the Laxen cottage, which few dared pass. The doctor came and +went, reporting all well to the eager questioners. Mr. Gordon called +daily to inquire, and every evening Mary Denison stole to the door +with a paper or magazine for Lena and her mother, or some home-made +delicacy that might please the imprisoned girl. Lena was usually at +the window, sometimes defiant and blustering, sometimes wild with +fright, sometimes again crying for sheer loneliness and vexation; +but always behind her was her mother's pale face of dread, and her +thin voice saying that Lena was "as well as common, thank ye," and +she and Mary would exchange glances, and Mary would go away drawing +breath, and thanking the Lord that another day was gone. + +So on, for nine anxious days; but on the tenth, when Mary looked up +at the window, the mother stood there alone, crying; and the doctor, +coming out of the house at the moment, told Mary harshly to keep away +from him, and not to come so near the house. + +In the dreadful days that followed, his people learned to know +George Gordon as they had never known him before. The grave, silent +man, who never spoke save when speech was necessary, was now among +them every day, going from room to room with cheerful greetings, +encouraging, heartening, raising the drooping spirits, and rebuking +sharply the croakers, who foretold with dismal unction a general +epidemic. While taking every possible precaution, he made light of +the actual danger, and by his presence and influence warded off the +panic which might have brought about the dreaded result. + +As a matter of fact, there were no more cases in the mill; and Lena +herself had the terrible disease more lightly than any one had dared +to hope. The doctor, hurrying through back ways and alleys to change +his clothes and take his bath of disinfectants, was hailed from back +gates and windows at every step; and he never failed to return a +cheery "Doing well! out of it soon now! No, not much marked, only a +few spots here and there." + +This was when he left the quarantined house; but when he sought it, +he might be seen to stop at one gate and another, picking up here a +jar, there a bowl, here again a paper bag; till by the time he +reached the Laxen gate he stood out all over with packages like a +summer Santa Claus. + +"There ain't anybody goin' to starve round here, if they _have_ got +the smallpox!" was the general verdict, voiced by James Gregory, and +when he added, for the benefit of the mill-yard, that he had heard +Mr. Gordon order ice-cream, oranges, and oysters, all at once, for +Lena, a growl of pleasure went round, which deepened into a hearty +"What's the matter with the Old Man? _he's_ all right!" + +At length, one happy day, Mary Denison met Mr. Gordon at the Laxens' +gate, and heard the good news that Lena was sitting up; that in a +day or two now the quarantine would be taken off, the house +disinfected, and Lena back in her place at the mill. The manager +looked with satisfaction at Mary's beaming face of happiness; then, +as she was turning away to spread the good tidings, he said: + +"Wait a moment, Mary! I have some other news for you. Have you +forgotten the brooch that you found in the Blue Egyptians?" + +The color rushed to Mary's face, and Mr. Gordon had his answer. + +"Because," he added, "I have not forgotten, though you might well +think I had done so. All this sad business has delayed matters, but +now I have it all arranged. I am ready to-day, Mary, to give you +either the brooch itself, or--what I think will be better--five +hundred dollars, the sum I find it to be worth. Yes, my child, I am +speaking the truth! The stones are fine ones, and the Boston +jeweller offers you that sum for them. Well, Mary, have you nothing +to say? What, crying? this will never do!" + +But Mary had nothing to say, and she was crying, because she could +not help it. Presently she managed to murmur something about +"Too much! too great kindness--not fair for her to have it all!" but +Mr. Gordon cut her short. + +"Certainly you are to have it all, every penny of it! Finding's +having! that is paper-mill law; ask James Gregory if it is not! +There comes James this moment; go and tell him of your good fortune, +and let him bring you up to my house this evening to get the money. + +"But, Mary,"--he glanced at a letter in his hand, and his face, +which had been bright with kindness and pleasure, grew very grave,-- +"there is something else for you to tell James, and all the hands. +James Hitchcock died yesterday, of malignant smallpox!" + +[Footnote 1: The main incidents in this story are founded on fact.] + + + + +LITTLE BENJAMIN + + "Then is little Benjamin their ruler." + + +"I THINK the kitty wants to come in," said Mother Golden. "I hear +him crying somewhere. Won't you go and let him in, Adam?" + +Adam laid down his book and went out; the whole family looked up +cheerfully, expecting to see Aladdin, the great Maltese cat, enter +with his stately port. There was a pause; then Adam came back with a +white, scared face, and looked at his father without speaking. + +"What is the matter, my son?" asked Father Golden. + +"Is Kitty hurt?" asked Mother Golden, anxiously. + +"Was it that dog of Jackson's?" cried Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph. + +"The cat isn't there!" said Adam. "It's--it's a basket, father." + +"A basket? What does the boy mean?" + +"A long basket, with something white inside; and--it's crying!" + +The boy had left the door open, and at this moment a sound came +through it, a long, low, plaintive cry. + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden; and she was out of the door in a +flash. + +"See there now!" said Father Golden, reprovingly. "Your mother's +smarter than any of you to-day. Go and help her, some of you!" + +The children tumbled headlong toward the door, but were met by +Mother Golden returning, bearing in her strong arms a long basket, +in which was indeed something white and fluffy that cried. + +[Illustration: "'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; +AND--IT'S CRYING!'"] + +"A baby!" exclaimed Father Golden. + +"A baby!" echoed Mary, Lemuel, Ruth, and Joseph. + +"Well, I knew it was a baby," protested Adam; "but I didn't like to +say so." + +Mother Golden lifted the child out and held it in a certain way; the +cries ceased, and the little creature nestled close against her and +looked up in her face. + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden again. "Come here, girls!" + +The girls pressed forward eagerly; the boys hung back, and glanced +at their father; these were women's matters. + +"It's got hair!" cried Ruth, in rapture. "Mother! real hair, and it +curls; see it curl!" + +"Look at its little hands!" murmured Mary. "They're like pink shells, +only soft. Oh! see it move them, Ruth!" She caught her sister's arm +in a sudden movement of delight. + +"Oh, mother, mayn't we keep it?" cried both girls at once. + +Mother Golden was examining the baby's clothes. + +"Cambric slip, fine enough, but not so terrible fine. Flannel blanket, +machine-embroidered--stop! here's a note." + +She opened a folded paper, and read a few words, written in a +carefully rough hand. + +"His mother is dead, his father a waif. Ask the woman with the kind +eyes to take care of him, for Christ's sake." + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden, again. + +"It's a boy, then!" said Father Golden, brightening perceptibly. He +came forward, the boys edging forward too, encouraged by another +masculine presence. + +"It's a boy, and a beauty!" said Mother Golden, wiping her eyes. +"I never see a prettier child. Poor mother, to have to go and leave +him. Father, what do you say?" + +"It's for you to say, mother;" said Father Golden. "It's to you the +child was sent." + +"Do you suppose 'twas me that was meant? They might have mistaken the +house." + +"Don't talk foolishness!" said Father Golden. "The question is, what +shall we do with it? There's places, a plenty, where foundlings have +the best of bringing up; and you've got care enough, as it is, mother, +without taking on any more." + +"Oh! we could help!" cried Mary. "I could wash and dress it, I know +I could, and I'd just love to." + +"So could I!" said twelve-year-old Ruth. "We'd take turns, Mary and I. +Do let's keep it, mother!" + +"It's a great responsibility!" said Father Golden. + +"Great Jemima!" said Mother Golden, with a sniff. "If I couldn't +take the responsibility of a baby, I'd give up." + +Father Golden's mind moved slowly, and while he was meditating a +reply, his wife issued various commands, and went through some +intricate feminine manoeuvres, with the effect of increased +fluffiness on the baby's part. In five minutes she was feeding the +child with warm milk from a spoon, and proclaiming that he ate +"like a Major!" + +The boys, gaining more and more confidence, were now close at her +knee, and watched the process with eager eyes. + +"He's swallering like anything!" cried Lemuel. "I can see him do it +with his throat, same as anybody." + +"See him grab the spoon!" said Joseph. "My! ain't he strong? Can he +talk, mother?" + +"Joe, you chuckle-head!" said Adam, who was sixteen, and knew most +things. "How can he talk, when he hasn't got any teeth?" + +"Uncle 'Rastus hasn't got any teeth," retorted Joseph, "and he talks +like a buzz-saw." + +"Hush, Joseph!" said Mother Golden, reprovingly. "Your Uncle 'Rastus +is a man of years." + +"Yes, mother!" said Joseph, meekly. + +"Baby _has_ got a tooth, too, Adam!" Mother Golden continued, +triumphantly. "I feel it pricking through the gum this minute. And +he so good, and laughing like a sunflower! Did it hurt him, then, a +little precious man? he shall have a nice ring to-morrow day, to +bitey on, so he shall!" + +"I suppose, then, he must be as much as a week old," hazarded Adam, +in an offhand tone. "They are never born with teeth, are they, +unless they are going to be Richard the Thirds, or something +wonderful?" + +"Perhaps he is!" said Ruth. "He looks wonderful enough for Richard +the Twentieth, or anything." + +But--"A week old!" said Mother Golden. "It's time there was a baby in +this house, if you don't know better than that, Adam. About six +months old I call him, and as pretty a child as ever I saw, even my +own." + +She looked half-defiantly at Father Golden, who returned the look +with one of mild deprecation. + +"I was only thinking of the care 'twould be to you, mother," he said. +"We're bound to make inquiries, and report the case, and so forth; +but if nothing comes of that, we might keep the child for a spell, +and see how things turn out." + +"That's what I was thinking!" said Mother Golden, eagerly. "I was +thinking anyway, Joel, 'twould be best to keep him through his +teething and stomach troubles, and give him a good start in the way +of proper food and nursing. At them homes and nurseries, they mean +well, but the most of them's young, and they _don't_ understand a +child's stomach. It's experience they need, not good-will, I'm well +aware. Of course, when Baby begun to be a boy, things might be +different. You work hard enough as it is, father, and there's places, +no doubt, could do better for him, maybe, than what we could. +But--well, seeing whose name he come in, I _do_ feel to see him +through his teething." + +"Children, what do you say?" asked Father Golden. "You're old enough +to have your opinion, even the youngest of you." + +"Oh, keep him! keep him!" clamored the three younger children. + +Adam and Lemuel exchanged a glance of grave inquiry. + +"I guess he'd better stay, father!" said Adam. + +"I think so, too!" said Lemuel; and both gave something like a sigh +of relief. + +"Then that's settled," said Father Golden, "saying and supposing +that no objection turns up. Next thing is, what shall we call this +child?" + +All eyes were fixed on the baby, who, now full of warm milk, sat +throned on Mother Golden's knee, blinking content. + +It was a pretty picture: the rosy, dimpled creature, the yellow +floss ruffled all over his head, his absurd little mouth open in a +beaming smile; beaming above him, Mother Golden's placid face in its +frame of silver hair; fronting them, Father Golden in his big +leather chair, solid, comfortable, benevolent; and the five children, +their honest, sober faces lighted up with unusual excitement. A +pleasant, homelike picture. Nothing remarkable in the way of setting; +the room, with its stuffed chairs, its tidies, and cabinet organ, was +only unlike other such rooms from the fact that Mother Golden +habitually sat in it; she could keep even haircloth from being +commonplace. But now, all the light in the room seemed to centre on +the yellow flossy curls against her breast. + +"A-goo!" said the baby, in a winning gurgle. + +"He says his name's Goo!" announced Joseph. + +"Don't be a chuckle-head, Joe!" said Adam. "What was the name on the +paper, mother?" + +"It said 'his father is a Waif;' but I don't take that to be a +Christian name. Surname, more likely, shouldn't you say, father?" + +"Not a Christian name, certainly," said Father Golden. "Not much of +a name anyhow, 'pears to me. We'd better give the child a suitable +name, mother, saying and supposing no objection turns up. Coming +into a Christian family, let him have Christian baptism, I say." + +"Oh, call him Arthur!" + +"Bill!" + +"Richard!" + +"Charlie!" + +"Reginald!" cried the children in chorus. + +"I do love a Bible name!" said Mother Golden, pensively. "It gives a +child a good start, so to say, and makes him think when he hears +himself named, or ought so to do. All our own children has Bible +names, father; don't let us cut the little stranger off from his +privilege." + +"But Bible names are so ugly!" objected Lemuel, who was sensitive, +and suffered under his own cognomen. + +"Son," said Father Golden, "your mother chooses the names in this +family." + +"Yes, father!" said Lemuel. + +"Lemuel, dear, you was named for a king!" said Mother Golden. +"He was a good boy to his mother, and so are you. Bring the Bible, +and let us see what it opens at. Joseph, you are the youngest, you +shall open it." + +Joseph opened the great brown leather Bible, and closing his eyes, +laid his hand on the page; then looking down, he read: + +"'There is little Benjamin their ruler, and the princes of Judah +their council: the princes of Zebulun and the princes of Nephtali.'" + +"Zebulun and Nephtali are outlandish-sounding names," said Mother +Golden. + +"I never knew but one Nephtali, and he squinted. Benjamin shall be +this child's name. Little Benjamin: the Lord bless and keep him!" + +"Amen!" said Father Golden. + + + +_PART II_. + +"Father, may I come in, if you are not busy?" + +It was Mary who spoke; Mary, the dear eldest daughter, now a woman +grown, grave and mild, trying hard to fill the place left empty +these two years, since Mother Golden went smiling out of life. + +Father Golden looked up from his book; he was an old man now, but +his eyes were still young and kind. + +"What is it, daughter Mary?" + +"The same old story, father dear; Benny in mischief again. This time +he has rubbed soot on all the door-handles, and the whole house is +black with it. I hate to trouble you, father, but I expect you'll +have to speak to him. I do love the child so, I'm not strict +enough--I'm ashamed to say it, but they all think so, and I know +it's true--and Adam is too strict." + +"Yes, Adam is too strict," said Father Golden. He looked at a +portrait that stood on his desk, a framed photograph of Mother Golden. + +"I'll speak to the child, Mary," he said. "I'll see that this does +not happen again. What is it, Ruthie?" + +"I was looking for Mary, father. I wanted--oh, Mary! what shall I do +with Benny? he has tied Rover and the cat together by their tails, +and they are rushing all about the garden almost crazy. I must +finish this work, so I can't attend to it. He says he is playing +Samson. I wish you would speak to him, father." + +"I will do so, Ruth, I will do so. Don't be distressed, my daughter." + +"But he is so naughty, father! he is so different from the other boys. +Joe never used to play such tricks when he was little." + +"The spring vacation will be over soon now, Ruth," said Sister Mary. +"He is always better when he is at work, and there is so little for +a boy to do just at this time of year." + +"I left Joe trying to catch the poor creatures," said Ruth. +"Here he comes now." + +Joe, a tall lad of seventeen, entered with a face of tragedy. + +"Any harm done, Joseph?" asked Father Golden, glancing at the +portrait on his desk. + +"It's that kid again, father!" said Joe. "Poor old Rover--" + +"Father knows about that, Joe!" said Mary, gently. + +"Did you get them apart?" cried Ruth. + +"Yes, I did, but not till they had smashed most of the glass in the +kitchen windows, and trampled all over Mary's geraniums. Something +has got to be done about that youngster, father. He's getting to be +a perfect nuisance." + +"I am thinking of doing something about him, son Joseph," said Father +Golden. "Are your brothers in the house?" + +"I think I heard them come in just now, sir. Do you want to see them?" + +Apparently Adam and Lemuel wanted to see their father, for they +appeared in the doorway at this moment: quiet-looking men, with grave, +"set" faces; the hair already beginning to edge away from their +temples. + +"You are back early from the office, boys!" said Father Golden. + +"We came as soon as we got the message," said Adam. "I hope nothing +is wrong, father." + +"What message, Adam?" + +"Didn't you send for us? Benny came running in, all out of breath, +and said you wished to see us at once. If he has been playing tricks +again--" + +Adam's grave face darkened into sternness. The trick was too evident. + +"Something must be done about that boy, father!" he said. "He is the +torment of the whole family." + +"No one can live a day in peace!" said Lemuel. + +"No dumb creature's life is safe!" said Joe. + +"He breaks everything he lays hands on," said Ruth, "and he won't +keep his hands off anything." + +"You were all little once, boys!" said Mary. + +"We never behaved in this kind of way!" said the brothers, sedate +from their cradles. "Something must be done!" + +"You are right," said Father Golden. "Something must be done." + +Glancing once more at the portrait of Mother Golden, he turned and +faced his children with grave looks. + +"Sit down, sons and daughters!" said the old man. "I have something +to say to you." + +The young people obeyed, wondering, but not questioning. Father +Golden was head of the house. + +"You all come to me," said Father Golden, "with complaints of little +Benjamin. It is singular that you should come to-day, for I have +been waiting for this day to speak to you about the child myself." + +He paused for a moment; then added, weighing his words slowly, as +was his wont when much in earnest, "Ten years ago to-day, that child +was left on our door-step." + +The brothers and sisters uttered an exclamation, half surprised, +half acquiescent. + +"It doesn't seem so long!" said Adam. + +"It seems longer!" said Mary. + +"I keep forgetting he came that way!" murmured Joe. + +"I felt doubtful about taking him in," Father Golden went on. +"But your mother wished it; you all wished it. We decided to keep +him for a spell, and give him a good start in life, and we have kept +him till now." + +"Of course we have kept him!" said Ruth. + +"Naturally!" said Lemuel. + +Adam and Mary said nothing, but looked earnestly at their father. + +"Little Benjamin is now ten years old, more or less," said Father +Golden. "You are men and women grown; even Joseph is seventeen. Your +mother has entered into the rest that is reserved for the people of +God, and I am looking forward in the hope that, not through any +merit of mine, but the merciful grace of God, I may soon be called +to join her. Adam and Lemuel, you are settled in the business, and +looking forward to making homes of your own with worthy young women. +Joseph is going to college, which is a new thing in our family, but +one I approve, seeing his faculty appears to lie that way. Ruth will +make a first-rate dressmaker, I am told by those who know. Mary--" + +His quiet voice faltered. Mary took his hand and kissed it +passionately; a sob broke from her, and she turned her face away +from the brothers and sister who loved but did not understand her. +They looked at her with grave compassion, but no one would have +thought of interrupting Father Golden. + +"Mary, you are the home-maker," the old man went on. "I hope that +when I am gone this home will still be here, with you at the head of +it. You are your mother's own daughter; there is no more to say." He +was silent for a time, and then continued. + +"There remains little Benjamin, a child of ten years. He is no kin +to us; an orphan, or as good as one; no person has ever claimed him, +or ever will. The time has come to decide what shall be done with +the child." + +Again he paused, and looked around. The serious young faces were all +intent upon him; in some, the intentness seemed deepening into +trouble, but no one spoke or moved. + +"We have done all that we undertook to do for him, that night we +took him in, and more. We have brought him--I should say your mother +brought him--through his sickly days; we 'most lost him, you remember, +when he was two years old, with the croup--and he is now a healthy, +hearty child, and will likely make a strong man. He has been well +treated, well fed and clothed, maybe better than he would have been +by his own parents if so't had been. He is turning out wild and +mischievous, though he has a good heart, none better; and you all, +except Mary, come to me with complaints of him. + +"Now, this thing has gone far enough. One of two things: either this +boy is to be sent away to some institution, to take his place among +other orphans and foundlings, or--he must be one of you for now and +always, to share alike with you while I live, to be bore with and +helped by each and every one of you as if he was your own blood, and +to have his share of the property when I am gone. Sons and daughters, +this question is for you to decide. I shall say nothing. My life is +'most over, yours is just beginning. I have no great amount to leave +you, but 'twill be comfortable so far as it goes. Benjamin has +one-sixth of that, and becomes my own son, to be received and +treated by you as your own brother, or he goes." + +Mary hid her face in her hands. Adam walked to the window and looked +out; but the other three broke out into a sudden, hurried clamor, +strangely at variance with their usual staid demeanor. + +"Oh, father, we couldn't let him go!" + +"Why, father, I can't think what you mean!" + +"I'm sure, sir, we never thought of such a thing as sending him away. +Why, he's our Ben." + +"Good enough little kid, only mischievous." + +"Needs a little governing, that's all. Mary spoils him; no harm in +him, not a mite." + +"And the lovingest little soul! the minute he found that Kitty's paw +was cut, he sat down and cried--" + +"I guess if Benny went, I'd go after him pretty quick!" said Joseph, +who had been loudest in his complaint against the child. + +Mary looked up and smiled through her tears. "Joe, your heart is in +the right place!" she said. "I finished your shirts this morning, +dear; I'm going to begin on your slippers to-night." + +"Well, but, father--" + +"Father dear, about little Benny--" + +"Yes, sir--poor little Ben!" + +"Go easy!" said Father Golden; and his face, as he looked from one +to the other, was as bright as his name. + +"Why, children, you're real excited. I don't want excitement, nor +crying--Mary, daughter, I knew how you would feel, anyway. I want a +serious word, 'go,' or 'stay,' from each one of you; a word that +will last your lives long. I'll begin with the youngest, because +that was your mother's way. She always said the youngest was nearest +heaven. Joseph, what is your word about little Benjamin?" + +"Stay, of course!" cried Joe. "Benny does tease me, but I should be +nowhere without him." + +"Ruth! you seemed greatly tried just now. Think what you are going +to say." + +"Oh, of course he must stay, father. Why, the child is the life of +the house. We are all so humdrum and mopy, I don't know what we +should do without Benny to keep us moving." + +"Mary, daughter--not that I need your answer, my dear." + +"He is the only child I shall ever have!" said Mary, simply. + +There was silence for a moment, and all thought of the grave where +her young heart had laid its treasure. + +"Lemuel!" + +"I've been hard on the child, Father!" said Lemuel. "He's so +different from the rest of us, and he does try me. But mother loved +him, and down at the bottom we all do, I guess. I say 'stay,' too, +and I'll try to be more of a brother to him from now on." + +"Son Adam, I have left you the longest time to reflect," said Father +Golden. "You are the oldest, and when I am gone it will be on you +and Mary that the heft of the care will come. Take all the time you +want, and then give us your word!" + +Adam turned round; his face was very grave, but he spoke cheerfully. + +"I have had time enough, Father," he said. "I was the first that +heard that little voice, ten years ago, and the first, except mother, +that saw the child; 'twould be strange if I were the one to send him +away. He came in Christ's name, and in that name I bid him stay." + +"Amen!" said Father Golden. + +A silence followed; but it was broken soon by a lively whistle, +shrilling out a rollicking tune; the next moment a boy came running +into the room. Curly, rosy, dirty, ragged, laughing, panting, little +Benjamin stood still and looked round on all the earnest, serious +faces. + +"What's the matter, all you folks?" he asked. "I should think you +was all in meeting, and sermon just beginning. Ruth, I tied up +Kitty's leg all right; and I'll dig greens to pay for the glass, Joe. +Say, Bro'rer-Adam-an'-Lem (Benny pronounced this as if it were one +word), did you forget it was April Fool's Day? Didn't I fool you good? +And--say! there's a fierce breeze and my new kite's a buster. Who'll +come out and fly her with me?" + +"I will, Benny!" said Adam, Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph. + + + + +DON ALONZO + + +"Don Alonzo! Don Alonzo Pitkin! Where be you?" + +There was no answer. + +"Don Alonzo! Deacon Bassett's here, and wishful to see you. Don +Alonzo Pit-_kin_!" + +Mrs. Joe Pitkin stood at the door a moment, waiting; then she shook +her shoulders with a despairing gesture, and went back into the +sitting-room. "I don't know where he is, Deacon Bassett," she said. +"There! I'm sorry; but he's so bashful, Don Alonzo is, he'll creep +off and hide anywheres sooner than see folks. I do feel mortified, +but I can't seem to help it, no way in the world." + +"No need to, Mis' Pitkin," said Deacon Bassett, rising slowly and +reaching for his hat. "No need to. I should have been pleased to see +Don 'Lonzo, and ask if he got benefit from those pills I left for him +last time I called; what he wants is to doctor reg'lar, and keep +straight on doctorin'. But I can call again; and I felt it a duty to +let you know what's goin' on at your own yard-gate, I may say. Mis' +Pegrum's house ain't but a stone's throw from yourn, is it? Well, +I'll be wishing you good day, and I hope Joseph will be home before +there's any trouble. I don't suppose you've noticed whether Don +Alonzo has growed any, sence he took those pills?" + +"No, I haven't!" said Mrs. Pitkin, shortly. "Good day, Deacon Bassett." + +"Yes, you can call again," she added, mentally, as she watched the +deacon making his way slowly down the garden walk, stopping the +while to inspect every plant that looked promising. "You can call +again, but you will not see him, if you come every day. It does beat +all, the way folks can't let that boy alone. Talk about his being +cranky! I'd be ten times as cranky as he is, if I was pestered by +every old podogger that's got stuff to sell." + +She closed the door, and addressed the house, apparently empty and +still. "He's gone!" she said, speaking rather loudly, "Don 'Lonzo, +he's gone, and you can come out. I expect you're hid somewheres +about here, for I didn't hear you go out." + +There was no sound. She opened the door of the ground-floor bedroom +and looked in. All was tidy and pleasant as usual. Every mat lay in +its place; the chairs were set against the wall as she loved to see +them; the rows of books, the shelves of chemicals, at which she +hardly dared to look, and which she never dared to touch for fear +something would "go off" and kill her instantly, the specimens in +their tall glass jars, the case of butterflies, all were in their +place; but there was no sign of life in the room, save the canary in +the window. + +"Deacon Bassett's gone!" she said, speaking to the canary. + +There was a scuffling sound from under the bed; the valance was +lifted, and a head emerged cautiously. + +"I tell you he's gone!" repeated Mira Pitkin, rather impatiently. +"Come out, Don Alonzo! There! you are foolish, I must say!" + +The head came out, followed by a figure. The figure was that of a +boy of twelve, but the head belonged to a youth of seventeen. The +rounded shoulders, the sharp features, the dark, sunken eyes, all +told a tale of suffering; Don Alonzo Pitkin was a hunchback. + +His pretty, silly mother had given him the foolish name which seemed +a perpetual mockery of his feeble person. She had found it in an old +romance, and had only wavered between it and Senor Gonzalez,--which +she pronounced Seener Gon-zallies,--the other dark-eyed hero of the +book. Perhaps she pictured to herself her baby growing up into such +another lofty, black-plumed hidalgo as those whose magnificent +language and mustachios had so deeply impressed her. It was true +that she herself had pinkish eyes and white eyelashes, while her +husband was familiarly known as "Carrots,"--but what of that? + +But he had a fall, this poor baby,--a cruel fall, from the +consequences of which no high-sounding name could save him; and then +presently the little mother died, and the father married again. + +The boy's childhood had been a sad one, and all the happiness he had +known had been lately, since his elder brother married. Big, +good-natured Joe Pitkin, marrying the prettiest girl in the village, +had been sore at heart, even in his new-wedded happiness, at the +thought of leaving the deformed, sensitive boy alone with the +careless father and the shrewish stepmother. But his young wife had +been the first to say: + +"Let Don Alonzo come and live with us, Joe! Where there is room for +two, there is room for three, and that boy wants to be made of!" + +So the strong, cheerful, wholesome young woman took the sickly lad +into her house and heart, and "made of him," to use her own quaint +phrase; and she became mother and sister and sweetheart, all in one, +to Don Alonzo. + +Now she stood looking at him, shaking her head, yet smiling. +"Don 'Lonzo, how can you behave so?" she asked. "This is the third +time Deacon Bassett has been here to see you, and he's coming again; +and what be I to say to him next time he comes? You can't go through +life without seeing folks, you know." + +Don Alonzo shook his shoulders, and pretended to look for dust on +his coat. He would have been deeply mortified to find any, for he +took care of his own room, and prided himself, with reason, on its +neatness. Also, the space beneath his bedstead was cupboard as well +as hiding-place. + +"He troubles me," he said, meekly. "Deacon Bassett troubles me more +than any of 'em. Did he ask if I'd grown any?" + +"Well, he did," Mira admitted. "But I expect he didn't mean anything +by it." + +"He's asked that ever since I can remember," said Don Alonzo; +"and I'm weary of it. There! And then he says that if I would only +take his Green Elixir three times a day for three months, I'd grow +like a sapling willow. He hopes to make his living out of me, yet!" + +Mrs. Pitkin laughed, comfortably, and smoothed the lad's hair back +with a motherly touch. "All the same," she said, "you must quit +hiding under the bed when folks come to call, Don 'Lonzo. You don't +want 'em to think I treat you bad, and keep you out o' sight, so's +they'll not find it out." Then, seeing the boy's face flush with +distress, she added, hastily, "Besides, you're getting to be 'most a +man now; I want strangers should know there's men-folks about the +place, now Joe's away. There's burglars in town, Don 'Lonzo, and we +must look out and keep things shut up close, nights." + +"Burglars!" repeated the youth. + +"Yes; Deacon Bassett was telling me about 'em just now. I guess +likely half what he came for was to give me a good scare, knowing +Joe was away. Now, ain't I uncharitable! 'Twas just as likely to be +a friendly warning. Anyway, he was telling me they came through from +Tupham Corner day before yesterday, and they've been lurking and +spying round." + +"Some boys saw them, coming through Green Gully, and were scared to +death at their looks; they said they were big, black-looking men, +strangers to these parts; and they swore at the boys and ordered 'em +off real ugly. Nobody else has seen them in honest daylight, but +they broke into Dan'l Brown's house last night. He's deaf, you know, +and didn't hear a sound. They came right into the room where he slept, +--Deacon Bassett was there the next day, and saw their tracks all +over the floor,--and took ten dollars out of his pants pocket. The +pants was hanging right beside the bed, and they turned them clean +inside out, and Dan'l never stirred." + +"My, oh!" exclaimed Don Alonzo. + +"Why, it's terrible!" Mira went on. "Then, last night, they got into +Mis' Pegrum's house, too. She's a lone woman, you know, same as +Dan'l is a man. Seems as if they had took note of every house where +there wasn't plenty of folks to be stirring and taking notice. They +got into the pantry window, and took every living thing she had to +eat. They might do that, and still go hungry, Deacon Bassett says; +you know there's always been a little feeling between him and Mis' +Pegrum; her cat and his hens--it's an old story. Well, and she did +hear a noise, and came out into the kitchen, and there sat two great, +black men, eating her best peach preserves, and the cake she'd made +for the Ladies' Aid, to-day. She was so scare't, she couldn't speak +a word; and they just laughed and told her to go back to bed, and +she went. Poor-spirited, it seems, but I don't know as I should have +done a bit better in her place. There! I wish Joe'd come back! I +feel real nervous, hearing about it all. Oh, and her gold watch, too, +they got, and three solid silver teaspoons that belonged to her +mother. She's sick abed, Deacon Bassett says, and I don't wonder. I +don't feel as if I should sleep a wink to-night!" + +The color came into Don Alonzo's thin cheeks. "There sha'n't no one +do you any hurt while I'm round, Mira!" he said; and for a moment he +forgot his deformity, and straightened his poor shoulders, and held +up his head like a man. + +There was no shade of amusement in Mira Pitkin's honest smile. +"I expect you'd be as brave as a lion, Don 'Lonzo," she said. +"I expect you'd shoo 'em right out of the yard, same as you did the +turkey gobbler when he run at my red shawl; don't you remember? But +all the same, I hope they will not come; and I shall be glad to see +Joe back again." + +At that moment the lad caught sight of himself in the little +looking-glass that hung over his chest of drawers. Mira, watching him, +saw the sparkle go out of his eyes, saw his shoulders droop, and his +head sink forward; and she said, quickly: + +"But there! we've said enough about the burglars, I should think! +How's the experiments, Don 'Lonzo? I heard an awful fizzing going on, +just before Deacon Bassett came in. I expect you've got great things +hidden under that bed; I expect there's other perils round besides +burglars! Joe may come back and find us both blown into kindlin'-wood, +after all!" + +This was a favorite joke of theirs; she had the pleasure of seeing a +smile come into the boy's sad eyes; then, with another of those +motherly touches on his hair, she went away, singing, to her work. + +Don Alonzo looked after her. From the way his eyes followed her, she +might have been a glorified saint in robe and crown, instead of a +rosy-cheeked young woman in a calico gown. "There sha'n't nothing +hurt her while I'm round!" he muttered again. + +The night fell, dark and cloudy. Mrs. Pitkin went to bed early, +after shaking every door and trying every window to make sure that +all was safe. Don Alonzo went through the same process twice after +she was gone, but he did not feel like sleeping, himself. He lay +down on his bed, but his thoughts seemed dancing from one thing to +another,--to Brother Joe, travelling homeward now, he hoped, after a +week's absence; to Mira's goodness, her patience with his wayward +self, her kindness in letting him mess with chemicals, and turn the +shed into a laboratory, and frighten her with explosions; to Dan'l +Brown and Mis' Pegrum and the burglars. + +Ah, the burglars! What could he do, if they should really come to +the house? They were two men, probably well-grown; he--he knew what +he was! How could he carry out his promise to Mira, if she should be +in actual danger? Not by strength, clearly; but there must be some +way; bodily strength was not the only thing in the world. He looked +about him, seeking for inspiration; his eyes, wandering here and +there, lighted upon something, then remained fixed. The room was +dimly lighted by a small lamp, but the corners were dark, and in one +of these dark corners something was shining with a faint, uncertain +light. The phosphorescent match-box! He had made it himself, and had +ornamented it with a grotesque face in luminous paint. This face now +glimmered and glowered at him from the darkness; and Don Alonzo lay +still and looked back at it. Lying so and looking, there crept into +his mind an old story that he had once read; and he laughed to +himself, and then nodded at the glimmering face. "Thank you, old +fellow!" said Don Alonzo. + +Was there a noise? Was it his imagination, or did a branch snap, a +twig rustle down the road? The hunchback had ears like a fox, and in +an instant he was at the window, peering out into the darkness. At +first he could see nothing; but gradually the lilac bushes at the +gate came into sight, and the clumps of flowers in the little garden +plot. Not a breath was stirring, yet--hark! Again a twig snapped, a +branch crackled; and now again! and nearer each time. Don Alonzo +strained his eyes to pierce the darkness. Were those bushes, those +two shapes by the gate? They were not there a moment ago. Ha! they +moved; they were coming nearer. Their feet made no sound on the +soft earth, but his sharp ears caught a new sound,--a whisper, faint, +yet harsh, like a hiss. Don Alonzo had seen and heard enough. He +left the window, and the next moment was diving under the bed. + + * * * * * + +Mira Pitkin usually slept like a child, from the moment her head +touched the pillow till the precise second when something woke in +her brain and said "Five o'clock!" But to-night her sleep was broken. +She tossed and muttered in her dreams; and suddenly she sat up in bed +with eyes wide open and a distinct sense of something wrong. Her +first thought was of fire; she sniffed; the air was pure and clear. +Then, like a cry in her ears, came--"The burglars!" She held her +breath and listened; was the night as still as it was dark? No! a +faint, steady sound came to her ears. A mouse, was it, or--the sound +of a tool? + +And then, almost noiselessly, a window was opened, the window of the +upper entry, next her room. Mira was at her own window in an instant, +raising it; that, too, opened silently, for Joe was a carpenter and +detested noisy windows. She peered out into the thick darkness. Black, +black! Was the blackness deeper there, just at the front door? +Surely it was! Surely something, somebody, was busy with the lock of +the door; and then she heard, as Don Alonzo had heard, a low sound +like a hiss, beside the soft scraping of the tool. What should she do? +The windows were fast, there was a bar and chain inside the door, +but what of that? Two desperate men could force an entrance anywhere +in a moment. What could she do, a woman, with only a sickly boy to +help her? And--who had opened that upper window? Was there a third +accomplice--for she thought she could see two spots of deeper +blackness by the door--hidden in the house? Oh, if only Joe had +borrowed his father's old pistol for her, as she had begged him to do! + +Mira opened her lips to shout, in the hope of rousing the nearest +neighbors, though they were not very near. Opened her lips--but no +sound came from them. For at that instant something appeared at the +window next her own; something stepped from it, out on to the little +porch over the front door. Mira Pitkin gasped, and felt her heart +fail within her. A skeleton! Every limb outlined in pale fire, the +bony fingers points of wavering flame. What awful portent was this? +The Thing paused and turned, a frightful face gazed at her for an +instant, a hand waved, then the Thing dropped, silent as a shadow, on +that spot of deeper blackness that was stooping at the front door. + +Then rose an outcry wild and hideous. The burglar shouted hoarsely, +and tried to shake off the Thing that sat on his shoulders, gripping +his neck with hands of iron, digging his sides with bony knees and +feet; but the second thief, who saw by what his comrade was ridden, +shrieked in pure animal terror, uttering unearthly sounds that cut +the air like a knife. For a moment he could only stand and shriek; +then he turned and fled through the yard, and the other fled after +him, the glimmering phantom clutching him tight. Down the road they +fled. Mira could now see nothing save the riding Thing, apparently +horsed on empty air; but now she saw it, still clutching close with +its left hand, raise the right, holding what looked like a shining +snake, and bring it down hissing and curling. Again, and again! and +with every blow the shrieks grew more and more hideous, till now +they had reached the cluster of houses at the head of the street, +and every window was flung open, and lights appeared, and voices +clamored in terror and amaze. The village was roused; and now--now, +the glimmering skeleton was seen to loose its hold. It dropped from +its perch, and turning that awful face toward her once more, came +loping back, silent as a shadow. But when she saw that, Mira Pitkin, +for the first and last time in her sensible life, fainted away. + +When she came to herself, the skeleton was bending over her anxiously, +but its face was no longer frightful; it was white and anxious, and +the eyes that met hers were piteous with distress. + +"My, oh!" cried Don Alonzo. "I vowed no one should do her any hurt, +and now I've done it myself." + +There was little sleep in the Pitkin house that night. The neighbors +came flocking in with cries and questions; and when all was explained, +Don Alonzo found himself the hero of the hour. For once he did not +hide under the bed, but received everybody--from Deacon Bassett down +to the smallest boy who came running in shirt and trousers, +half-awake, and athirst for marvels--with modest pride, and told +over and over again how it all happened. + +'Twas no great thing, he maintained. He had fooled considerable with +phosphorus, and had some of the luminous paint that he had mixed +some time before. Thinking about these fellows, he remembered a +story he read once, where they painted up a dead body to scare away +some murdering robbers. He thought a living person was as good as a +dead one, any day; so he tried it on, and it appeared to succeed. He +didn't think likely those men would stop short of the next township, +from the way they were running when he got down. Oh, the snake? That +was Joe's whip. He presumed likely it hurt some, from the way they +yelled. + +But the best of all was when Joe came home, the very next day, and +when, the three of them sitting about the supper-table, Mira herself +told the great story, from the first moment of Deacon Bassett's +visit down to the triumphant close--"And I see him coming back, +shining like a corpse-candle, and I fell like dead on the floor!" + +"There!" she continued, beaming across the table at Joe, as she +handed him his fourth cup of coffee, "you may go away again whenever +you're a mind to; I sha'n't be afraid. You ain't half the man Don +'Lonzo is!" + +"I don't expect I be!" said big Joe, beaming back again. + +It seemed to Don Alonzo that their smiles made the kitchen warm as +June, though October was falling cold that year. + + + + +_THE SHED CHAMBER_ + + +"Well, I once answered an advertisement in the _Farmer's Friend_, +girls, and I have always been glad I did. It was that summer when +father broke his arm and the potato crop failed, and everything +seemed to be going wrong on the farm. There were plenty of girls to +do the work at home, and I thought I ought to get something outside +to do if I could. I tried here and there, but without success; at +last my eye caught a notice in the _Farmer's Friend_, just the same +kind of notice as that you are speaking of, Lottie: 'Wanted, a +capable, steady girl to assist in housework and take care of children. +Address, with reference, A. B. C., Dashville.' I talked it over with +mother, and she agreed with me; father didn't take so kindly to the +idea, naturally; he likes to have us all at home, especially in +summer. However, he said I might do as I pleased; so I answered the +notice and sent a letter from our pastor, saying what he thought of +me. I was almost ashamed to send it, too; he has always been more +than kind to me, you know; if I'd been his own daughter he couldn't +have said more. Well, they wrote for me to come, and I went. + +"Girls, it was pretty hard when it came to that part, leaving the +house, and mother standing in the doorway trying not to look anxious, +and father fretting and saying it was all nonsense, and he shouldn't +have hands enough to pick the apples. Of course he knew I knew better, +but I was glad he didn't want me to go, after all. Sister Nell and +Sister Margie had packed my trunk, and they were as excited as I was, +and almost wished they were going instead, but not quite, I think; +and so Joe whistled to old Senator, and I waved my handkerchief, and +mother and the two girls waved their aprons, and off I went. + +"I didn't really feel alone till I was in the train and had lost +sight of Joe standing and smoothing Senator's mane and nodding at me; +then the world seemed very big and Tupham Corner a very small corner +in it. I will not say anything more about this part; you'll find it +out soon enough yourselves, when you go away from home the first time. + +"It was a long journey, or it seemed so then; but everything comes +to an end some time, and there was plenty of daylight left for me to +see my new home when I arrived. It was a pleasant-looking house, +long and rambling, painted yellow, too, which made me more homesick +than ever. There were two children standing in the doorway, and +presently Mr. Bowles came out and shook hands with me and helped me +down with my things. He was a kind, sensible-looking man, and he +made the children come and speak to me and shake hands. They were +shy then and hung back, and put their fingers in their mouths; I +knew just how they felt. I wanted to hang back, too, when he took me +into the house to see Mrs. Bowles. She was an invalid, he told me, +and could not leave her room. + +"Girls, the minute I saw that sweet, pale face, with the look of +pain and patience in it, I knew what I had come for. I do think we +understood each other from the first minute, Mrs. Bowles and I; for +she held my hand a good while, looking into my face and I into hers, +and she must have seen how sorry I was for her, and how I hoped I +could help her; for when I went into the kitchen I heard her say, +with a little sigh, as she lay back again, 'O John, I do believe +this is the right one at last!' You may believe I made up my mind +that I would be the right one, Lottie! + +"That kitchen was in a scandalous condition. It was well I had seen +Mrs. Bowles first or I should have wanted to run away that very +minute. The eldest little girl--it seems strange to think that there +ever was a time when I didn't know Barbara's name!--followed me out, +--I think her father told her to,--and rubbed along against the wall, +just exactly as I used to when I felt shy. When I asked her a little +about where things were, and so on--they were everywhere and nowhere; +you never saw such a looking place in your life!--she took her +finger out of her mouth, and pretty soon I told her about our yellow +coon kittens, and after that we got on very well. She said they had +had one girl after another, each worse than the last. The shoe +factory had taken off all the good help and left only the incapable +ones. The last one, Barbara said, had almost starved them, and been +saucy to Mrs. Bowles, and dirty--well, there was no need to tell me +that. It was a shame to see good things so destroyed; for the things +were good, only all dirty and broken, and--oh, well! there's no use +in telling about that part. + +"I asked when her mother had had anything to eat, and she said not +since noon; I knew that was no way for an invalid to be taken care of, +so I put the kettle on and hunted about till I found a cup and saucer +I liked, and then I found the bread-box--oh, dear! that bread-box, +girls! But the mold scraped right off, and the bread wasn't really +bad; I made some toast and cut the crust off, and put just a thin +scrape of butter on it; then I sent Barbara in with a little tray +and told her to see that her mother took it all. I thought she'd +feel more like taking it from the child than from a stranger, if she +hadn't much appetite. My dears, the child came out again in a few +minutes, her face all alight. + +"'She drank it all, every drop!' she cried. 'And now she's eating +the toast. She said how did you know, and she cried, but now she's +all right. Father 'most cried, too, I think. Say!' + +"'Yes, dear.' + +"'Father says the Lord sent you. Did he?'" + +[Illustration: "'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'"] + +"I nodded, for I couldn't say anything that minute. I kissed the +little girl and went on with my cleaning. Girls, don't ever grudge +the time you spend in learning to cook nicely. Food is what keeps the +breath of life in us, and it all depends upon us girls now, and later, +when we are older women, whether it is good or bad. No, Sue, I'm not +going to preach, but I shall never forget how that tired man and +those hungry children enjoyed their supper. 'Twas mother's supper, +every bit of it, from the light biscuit down to the ham omelette; I +found the ham bone in a dark cupboard, all covered with mold, like +the bread, but 'twas good and sweet underneath. I only wish mother +had been there to see them eat. After supper Mr. Bowles came and +shook hands with me. I didn't know then that he never used any more +words than he had to; but I was pleased, if I did think it funny. + +"I was tired enough by the time bedtime came, and after I had put +the children to bed and seen that Mrs. Bowles was comfortable, and +had water and crackers and a candle beside her--she was a very poor +sleeper--I was glad enough to go to bed myself. Barbara showed me my +room, a pretty little room with sloping gables and windows down by +the floor. There were two doors, and I asked her where the other led +to. She opened it and said, 'The shed chamber.' I looked over her +shoulder, holding up the candle, and saw a great bare room, with +some large trunks in it, but no other furniture except a high +wardrobe. I liked the look of the place, for it was a little like +our play room in the attic at home; but I was too tired to explore, +and I was asleep in ten minutes from the time I had tucked up +Barbara in her bed, and Rob and Billy in their double crib. + +"I should take a week if I tried to tell you all about those first +days; and, after all, it is one particular thing that I started to +tell, only there is so much that comes back to me. In a few days I +felt that I belonged there, almost as much as at home; they were +that kind of people, and made me feel that they cared about me, and +not only about what I did. Mrs. Bowles has always been the best +friend I have in the world after my own folks; it didn't take us a +day to see into each other, and by and by it got to be so that I +knew what she wanted almost before she knew, herself. + +"At the end of the week Mr. Bowles said he ought to go away on +business for a few days, and asked her if she would feel safe to +stay with me and the children, or if he should ask his brother to +come and sleep in the house. + +"'No, indeed!' said Mrs. Bowles. 'I shall feel as safe with Nora as +if I had a regiment in the house; a good deal safer!' she added, and +laughed. + +"So it was settled, and the next day Mr. Bowles went away and I was +left in full charge. I suppose I rather liked the responsibility. I +asked Mrs. Bowles if I might go all over the house to see how +everything fastened, and she said, 'Of course.' The front windows +were just common windows, quite high up from the floor; but in the +shed chamber, as in my room, they opened near the floor, and there +was no very secure way of fastening them, it seemed to me. However, I +wasn't going to say anything to make her nervous, and that was the +way they had always had them. If I had only known! + +"After the children went to bed that evening I read to Mrs. Bowles +for an hour, and then I went to warm up a little cocoa for her; she +slept better if she took a drop of something hot the last thing. It +was about nine o'clock. I had just got into the kitchen, and was +going to light the lamp, when I heard the door open softly. + +"'Who's there?' I asked. + +"'Only me,' said a girl's voice. + +"I lighted my lamp, and saw a girl about my own age, pretty, and +showily dressed. She said she was the girl who had left the house a +few days ago; she had forgotten something, and might she go up into +the shed chamber and get it? I told her to wait a minute, and went +and asked Mrs. Bowles. She said yes, Annie might go up. 'Annie was +careless and saucy,' she said, 'but I think she meant no harm. She +can go and get her things.' + +"I came back and told the girl, and she smiled and nodded. I did not +like her smile, I could not tell why. I started to go with her, but +she turned on me pretty sharply, and said she had been in the house +three months and didn't need to be shown the way by a stranger. I +didn't want to put myself forward, but no sooner had she run +up-stairs, and I heard her steps in the chamber above me, than +something seemed to be pushing, pushing me toward those stairs, +whether I would or no. I tried to hold back, and tell myself it was +nonsense, and that I was nervous and foolish; it made no difference, +I had to go up-stairs. + +"I went softly, my shoes making no noise. My own little room was dark, +for I had closed the blinds when the afternoon sun was pouring in +hot and bright; but a slender line of light lay across the blackness +like a long finger, and I knew the moon was shining in at the +windows of the shed chamber. I did a thing I had never done before +in my life; that silver finger came through the keyhole, and it drew +me to it. I knelt down and looked through. + +"The big room shone bare and white in the moonlight; the trunks +looked like great animals crouching along the walls. Annie stood in +the middle of the room, as if she were waiting or listening for +something. Then she slipped off her shoes and went to one of the +windows and opened it. I had fastened it, but the catch was old and +she knew the trick of it, of course. In another moment something +black appeared over the low sill; it was a man's head. My heart +seemed to stand still. She helped him, and he got in without making +a sound. He must have climbed up the big elm-tree which grew close +against the house. They stood whispering together for a few minutes, +but I could not hear a word. + +"The man was in stocking feet; he had an evil, coarse face, yet he +was good-looking, too, in a way. I thought the girl seemed frightened, +and yet pleased, too; and he seemed to be praising her, I thought, +and once he put his arms round her and kissed her. She went to the +wardrobe and opened it, but he shook his head; then she opened the +great cedar trunk, and he nodded, and measured it and got into it +and sat down. It was so deep that he could sit quite comfortably +with the cover down. Annie shut it and then opened it again. + +"I had seen all I wanted to see. I slipped down-stairs as I heard +her move toward the door; when she came down I was stirring my cocoa +on the stove, with my back to her. She came round and showed me a +bundle she had in her hand, and said she must be going now. I kept +my face in the shadow as well as I could, for I was afraid I might +not be able to look just as usual; but I spoke quietly, and asked +her if she had found everything, and wished her good night as +pleasantly as I knew how. All the while my head was in a whirl and +my heart beat so loud I thought she must have heard it. There was a +good deal of silver in the house, and I knew that Mr. Bowles had +drawn some money from the bank only a day or two before, to pay a +life-insurance premium. + +"I never listened to anything as I did to the sound of her footsteps; +even after they had died away, after she had turned the corner, a +good way off, I stood still, listening, not stirring hand or foot. +But when I no longer heard any sound my strength seemed to come back +with a leap, and I knew what I had to do. I told you my shoes made +no noise. I slipped up-stairs, through my own room, and into the shed +chamber. Girls, it lay so peaceful and bare in the white moonlight, +that for a moment I thought I must have dreamed it all. + +"It seemed half a mile to the farther end, where the great cedar +trunk stood. As I went a board creaked under my feet, and I +heard--or fancied I heard--a faint rustle inside the trunk. I began +to hum a tune, and moved about among the trunks, raising and +shutting the lids, as if I were looking for something. Now at last I +was beside the dreadful chest, and in another instant I had turned +the key. Then, girls, I flew! I knew the lock was a stout one and +the wood heavy and hard; it would take the man some time to get it +open from the inside, whatever tools he might have. I was +down-stairs in one breath, praying that I might be able to control my +voice so that it would not sound strange to the sick woman. + +"'Would you mind if I went out for a few minutes, Mrs. Bowles? The +moonlight is so lovely I thought I would like to take a little walk, +if there is nothing you want.' + +"She looked surprised, but said in her kind way, yes, certainly I +might go, only I'd better not go far. + +"I thanked her, and walked quietly out to the end of the garden walk; +then I ran! Girls, I had no idea I could run so! Strength seemed +given me, for I never felt my body. I was like a spirit flying or a +wind blowing. The road melted away before me, and all the time I saw +two things before my eyes as plain as I see you now,--the evil-faced +man working away at the lock of the cedar chest, and the sweet lady +sitting in the room below with her Bible on her knee. Yes, I thought +of the children, too, but it seemed to me no one, not even the +wickedest, could wish to hurt a child. So on I ran! + +"I reached the first house, but I knew there was no man there, only +two nervous old ladies. At the next house I should find two men, +George Brett and his father. + +"Yes, Lottie, my George, but I had never seen him then. He had only +lately come back from college. The first I saw of him was two +minutes later, when I ran almost into his arms as he came out of the +house. I can see him now, in the moonlight, tall and strong, with +his surprised eyes on me. I must have been a wild figure, I suppose. +I could hardly speak, but somehow I made him understand. + +"He turned back to the door and shouted to his father, who came +hurrying out; then he looked at me. 'Can you run back?' he asked. + +"I nodded. I had no breath for words but plenty for running, I +thought. + +"'Come on, then!' + +"Girls, it was twice as easy running with that strong figure beside +me. I noticed in all my hurry and distress how easily he ran, and I +felt my feet, that had grown heavy in the last few steps, light as +air again. Once I sobbed for breath, and he took my hand as we ran, +saying, 'Courage, brave girl!' We ran on hand in hand, and I never +failed again. We heard Mr. Brett's feet running, not far behind; he +was a strong, active man, but could not quite keep up with us. + +"As we neared the house, 'Quiet,' I said; 'Mrs. Bowles does not know.'" + +He nodded, and we slipped in at the back door. In an instant his +shoes were off and he was up the back stairs like a cat, and I after +him. As we entered the shed chamber the lid of the cedar trunk rose. + +I saw the gleam of the evil black eyes and the shine of white, +wolfish teeth. Without a sound George Brett sprang past me; without +a sound the robber leaped to meet him. I saw them in the white light +as they clinched and stood locked together; then a mist came before +my eyes and I saw nothing more. + +"I did not actually faint, I think; it cannot have been more than a +few minutes before I came to myself. But when I looked again George +was kneeling with his knee on the man's breast, holding him down, +and Father Brett was looking about the chamber and saying, in his +dry way, 'Now where in Tunkett is the clothes-line to tie this fellow?' + +"And the girl? Annie? O girls, she was so young! She was just my own +age and she had no mother. I went to see her the next day, and many +days after that. We are fast friends now, and she is a good, steady +girl; and no one knows--no one except our two selves and two +others--that she was ever in the shed chamber." + + + + +_MAINE TO THE RESCUE_ + + +"Oh, dear! oh, dear! It's snowing!" + +"Hurrah! hurrah! It's snowing!" + +Massachusetts looked up from her algebra. She was the head of the +school. She was rosy and placid as the apple she was generally +eating when not in class. Apples and algebra were the things she +cared most about in school life. + +"Whence come these varying cries?" she said, taking her feet off the +fender and trying to be interested, though her thoughts went on with +"a 1/6 b =" etc. + +"Oh, Virginia is grumbling because it is snowing, and Maine is +feeling happy over it, that's all!" said Rhode Island, the smallest +girl in Miss Wayland's school. + +"Poor Virginia! It is rather hard on you to have snow in March, when +you have just got your box of spring clothes from home." + +"It is atrocious!" said Virginia, a tall, graceful, languishing girl. +"How could they send me to such a place, where it is winter all the +spring? Why, at home the violets are in blossom, the trees are coming +out, the birds singing--" + +"And at home," broke in Maine, who was a tall girl, too, but lithe +and breezy as a young willow, with flyaway hair and dancing brown +eyes, "at home all is winter--white, beautiful, glorious winter, +with ice two or three feet thick on the rivers, and great fields and +fields of snow, all sparkling in the sun, and the sky a vast +sapphire overhead, without a speck. Oh, the glory of it, the +splendor of it! And here--here it is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor +good red herring. A wretched, makeshift season, which they call +winter because they don't know what else to call it." + +"Come! come!" said Old New York, who was seventeen years old and had +her own ideas of dignity. "Let us alone, you two outsiders! We are +neither Eskimos nor Hindoos, it is true, but the Empire State would +not change climates with either of you." + +"No, indeed!" chimed in Young New York, who always followed her +leader in everything, from opinions down to hair-ribbons. + +"No, indeed!" repeated Virginia, with languid scorn. "Because you +couldn't get any one to change with you, my dear." + +Young New York reddened. "You are so disagreeable, Virginia!" she +said. "I am sure I am glad I don't have to live with you all the +year round--" + +"Personal remarks!" said Massachusetts, looking up calmly. "One cent, +Young New York, for the missionary fund. Thank you! Let me give you +each half an apple, and you will feel better." + +She solemnly divided a large red apple, and gave the halves to the +two scowling girls, who took them, laughing in spite of themselves, +and went their separate ways. + +"Why didn't you let them have it out, Massachusetts?" said Maine, +laughing. "You never let any one have a good row." + +"Slang!" said Massachusetts, looking up again. "One cent for the +missionary fund. You will clothe the heathen at this rate, Maine. +That is the fourth cent to-day." + +"'Row' isn't slang!" protested Maine, feeling, however, for her +pocket-book. + +"Vulgar colloquial!" returned Massachusetts, quietly. "And perhaps +you would go away now, Maine, or else be quiet. Have you learned--" + +"No, I haven't!" said Maine. "I will do it very soon, dear Saint +Apple. I must look at the snow a little more." + +Maine went dancing off to her room, where she threw the window open +and looked out with delight. The girl caught up a double handful and +tossed it about, laughing for pure pleasure. Then she leaned out to +feel the beating of the flakes on her face. + +"Really quite a respectable little snowstorm!" she said, nodding +approval at the whirling white drift. "Go on, and you will be worth +while, my dear." She went singing to her algebra, which she could not +have done if it had not been snowing. + +The snow went on increasing from hour to hour. By noon the wind +began to rise; before night it was blowing a furious gale. Furious +blasts clutched at the windows, and rattled them like castanets. The +wind howled and shrieked and moaned, till it seemed as if the air +were filled with angry demons fighting to possess the square white +house. + +Many of the pupils of Miss Wayland's school came to the tea-table +with disturbed faces; but Massachusetts was as calm as usual, and +Maine was jubilant. + +"Isn't it a glorious storm?" she cried, exultingly. "I didn't know +there could be such a storm in this part of the country, Miss Wayland. +Will you give me some milk, please?" + +"There is no milk, my dear," said Miss Wayland, who looked rather +troubled. "The milkman has not come, and probably will not come +to-night. There has never been such a storm here in my lifetime!" +she added. "Do you have such storms at home, my dear?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" Maine said, cheerfully. "I don't know that we +often have so much wind as this, but the snow is nothing out of the +way. Why, on Palm Sunday last year our milkman dug through a drift +twenty feet deep to get at his cows. He was the only milkman who +ventured out, and he took me and the minister's wife to church in +his little red pung. + +"We were the only women in church, I remember. Miss Betsy Follansbee, +who had not missed going to church in fifteen years, started on foot, +after climbing out of her bedroom window to the shed roof and +sliding down. All her doors were blocked up, and she lived alone, so +there was no one to dig her out. But she got stuck in a drift about +half-way, and had to stay there till one of the neighbors came by +and pulled her out." + +All the girls laughed at this, and even Miss Wayland smiled; but +suddenly she looked grave again. + +"Hark!" she said, and listened. "Did you not hear something?" + +"We hear Boreas, Auster, Eurus, and Zephyrus," answered Old New York. +"Nothing else." + +At that moment there was a lull in the screeching of the wind; all +listened intently, and a faint sound was heard from without which +was not that of the blast. + +"A child!" said Massachusetts, rising quickly. "It is a child's voice. +I will go, Miss Wayland." + +"I cannot permit it, Alice!" cried Miss Wayland, in great distress. +"I cannot allow you to think of it. You are just recovering from a +severe cold, and I am responsible to your parents. What shall we do? +It certainly sounds like a child crying out in the pitiless storm. +Of course it _may_ be a cat--" + +Maine had gone to the window at the first alarm, and now turned with +shining eyes. + +"It _is_ a child!" she said, quietly. "I have no cold, Miss Wayland. +I am going, of course." + +Passing by Massachusetts, who had started out of her usual calm and +stood in some perplexity, she whispered, "If it were freezing, it +wouldn't cry. I shall be in time. Get a ball of stout twine." + +She disappeared. In three minutes she returned, dressed in her +blanket coat, reaching half-way below her knees, scarlet leggings +and gaily wrought moccasins; on her head a fur cap, with a band of +sea-otter fur projecting over her eyes. In her hand she held a pair +of snow-shoes. She had had no opportunity to wear her snow-shoeing +suit all winter, and she was quite delighted. + +"My child!" said Miss Wayland, faintly. "How can I let you go? My +duty to your parents--what are those strange things, and what use +are you going to make of them?" + +By way of answer Maine slipped her feet into the snow-shoes, and, +with Massachusetts' aid, quickly fastened the thongs. + +"The twine!" she said. "Yes, that will do; plenty of it. Tie it to +the door-handle, square knot, so! I'm all right, dear; don't worry." +Like a flash the girl was gone out into the howling night. + +Miss Wayland wrung her hands and wept, and most of the girls wept +with her. Virginia, who was curled up in a corner, really sick with +fright, beckoned to Massachusetts. + +"Is there any chance of her coming back alive?" she asked, in a +whisper. "I wish I had made up with her. But we may all die in this +awful storm." + +"Nonsense!" said Massachusetts. "Try to have a little sense, Virginia! +Maine is all right, and can take care of herself; and as for +whimpering at the wind, when you have a good roof over your head, it +is too absurd." + +For the first time since she came to school Massachusetts forgot the +study hour, as did every one else; and in spite of her brave efforts +at cheerful conversation, it was a sad and an anxious group that sat +about the fire in the pleasant parlor. + +Maine went out quickly, and closed the door behind her; then stood +still a moment, listening for the direction of the cry. She did not +hear it at first, but presently it broke out--a piteous little wail, +sounding louder now in the open air. The girl bent her head to listen. +Where was the child? The voice came from the right, surely! She +would make her way down to the road, and then she could tell better. + +Grasping the ball of twine firmly, she stepped forward, planting the +broad snow-shoes lightly in the soft, dry snow. As she turned the +corner of the house an icy blast caught her, as if with furious hands, +shook her like a leaf, and flung her roughly against the wall. + +Her forehead struck the corner, and for a moment she was stunned; +but the blood trickling down her face quickly brought her to herself. +She set her teeth, folded her arms tightly, and stooping forward, +measured her strength once more with that of the gale. + +This time it seemed as if she were cleaving a wall of ice, which +opened only to close behind her. On she struggled, unrolling her +twine as she went. + +The child's cry sounded louder, and she took fresh heart. Pausing, +she clapped her hand to her mouth repeatedly, uttering a shrill, +long call. It was the Indian whoop, which her father had taught her +in their woodland rambles at home. + +The childish wail stopped; she repeated the cry louder and longer; +then shouted, at the top of her lungs, "Hold on! Help is coming!" + +Again and again the wind buffeted her, and forced her backward a +step or two; but she lowered her head, and wrapped her arms more +tightly about her body, and plodded on. + +Once she fell, stumbling over a stump; twice she ran against a tree, +for the white darkness was absolutely blinding, and she saw nothing, +felt nothing but snow, snow. At last her snow-shoe struck something +hard. She stretched out her hands--it was the stone wall. And now, +as she crept along beside it, the child's wail broke out again close +at hand. + +"Mother! O mother! mother!" + +The girl's heart beat fast. + +"Where are you?" she cried. At the same moment she stumbled against +something soft. A mound of snow, was it? No! for it moved. It moved +and cried, and little hands clutched her dress. + +She saw nothing, but put her hands down, and touched a little cold +face. She dragged the child out of the snow, which had almost +covered it, and set it on its feet. + +"Who are you?" she asked, putting her face down close, while by +vigorous patting and rubbing she tried to give life to the benumbed, +cowering little figure, which staggered along helplessly, clutching +her with half-frozen fingers. + +"Benny Withers!" sobbed the child. "Mother sent me for the clothes, +but I can't get 'em!" + +"Benny Withers!" cried Maine. "Why, you live close by. Why didn't +you go home, child?" + +"I can't!" cried the boy. "I can't see nothing. I tried to get to +the school, an' I tried to get home, an' I can't get nowhere 'cept +against this wall. Let me stay here now! I want to rest me a little." + +He would have sunk down again, but Maine caught him up in her strong, +young arms. + +"Here, climb up on my back, Benny!" she said, cheerfully. "Hold on +tight round my neck, and you shall rest while I take you home. So! +That's a brave boy! Upsy, now! there you are! Now put your head on +my shoulder--close! and hold on!" + +Ah! how Maine blessed the heavy little brother at home, who _would_ +ride on his sister's back, long after mamma said he was too big. How +she blessed the carryings up and down stairs, the "horsey rides" +through the garden and down the lane, which had made her shoulders +strong! + +Benny Withers was eight years old, but he was small and slender, and +no heavier than six-year-old Philip. No need of telling the child to +hold on, once he was up out of the cruel snow bed. He clung +desperately round the girl's neck, and pressed his head close +against the woollen stuff. + +Maine pulled her ball of twine from her pocket--fortunately it was a +large one, and the twine, though strong, was fine, so that there +seemed to be no end to it--and once more lowered her head, and set +her teeth, and moved forward, keeping close to the wall, in the +direction of Mrs. Withers's cottage. + +For awhile she saw nothing, when she looked up under the fringe of +otter fur, which, long and soft, kept the snow from blinding her; +nothing but the white, whirling drift which beat with icy, stinging +blows in her face. But at last her eyes caught a faint glimmer of +light, and presently a brighter gleam showed her Mrs. Withers's gray +cottage, now white like the rest of the world. + +Bursting open the cottage door, she almost threw the child into the +arms of his mother. + +The woman, who had been weeping wildly, could hardly believe her eyes. +She caught the little boy and smothered him with kisses, chafing his +cold hands, and crying over him. + +"I didn't know!" she said. "I didn't know till he was gone. I told +him at noon he was to go, never thinking 'twould be like this. I was +sure he was lost and dead, but I couldn't leave my sick baby. Bless +you, whoever you are, man or woman! But stay and get warm, and rest +ye! You're never going out again in this awful storm!" + +But Maine was gone. + +In Miss Wayland's parlor the suspense was fast becoming unendurable. +They had heard Maine's Indian whoop, and some of them, Miss Wayland +herself among the number, thought it was a cry of distress; but +Massachusetts rightly interpreted the call, and assured them that it +was a call of encouragement to the bewildered child. + +Then came silence within the house, and a prolonged clamor--a sort +of witches' chorus, with wailing and shrieking without. Once a heavy +branch was torn from one of the great elms, and came thundering down +on the roof. This proved the finishing touch for poor Virginia. She +went into violent hysterics, and was carried off to bed by Miss Way +land and Old New York. + +Massachusetts presently ventured to explore a little. She hastened +through the hall to the front door, opened it a few inches, and put +her hand on the twine which was fastened to the handle. What was her +horror to find that it hung loose, swinging idly in the wind! Sick +at heart, she shut the door, and pressing her hands over her eyes, +tried to think. + +Maine must be lost in the howling storm! She must find her; but +where and how? + +Oh! if Miss Wayland had only let her go at first! She was older; it +would not have mattered so much. + +But now, quick! she would wrap herself warmly, and slip out without +any one knowing. + +The girl was turning to fly up-stairs, when suddenly something fell +heavily against the door outside. There was a fumbling for the handle; +the next moment it flew open, and something white stumbled into the +hall, shut the door, and sat down heavily on the floor. + +"Personal--rudeness!" gasped Maine, struggling for breath. "You shut +the door in my face! One cent for the missionary fund." + +The great storm was over. The sun came up, and looked down on a +strange, white world. No fences, no walls; only a smooth ridge where +one of these had been. Trees which the day before had been quite +tall now looked like dwarfs, spreading their broad arms not far from +the snow carpet beneath them. Road there was none; all was smooth, +save where some huge drift nodded its crest like a billow curling +for its downward rush. + +Maine, spite of her scarred face, which showed as many patches as +that of a court lady in King George's times, was jubilant. Tired! +not a bit of it! A little stiff, just enough to need "limbering out," +as they said at home. + +"There is no butter!" she announced at breakfast. "There is no milk, +no meat for dinner. Therefore, I go a-snow-shoeing. Dear Miss Wayland, +let me go! I have learned my algebra, and I shall be discovering +unknown quantities at every step, which will be just as instructive." + +Miss Wayland could refuse nothing to the heroine of last night's +adventure. Behold Maine, therefore, triumphant, sallying forth, clad +once more in her blanket suit, and dragging her sled behind her. + +There was no struggling now--no hand-to-hand wrestling with +storm-demons. The sun laughed from a sky as blue and deep as her own +sky of Maine, and the girl laughed with him as she walked along, the +powdery snow flying in a cloud from her snow-shoes at every step. + +Such a sight had never been seen in Mentor village before. The +people came running to their upper windows--their lower ones were +for the most part buried in snow--and stared with all their eyes at +the strange apparition. + +In the street, life was beginning to stir. People had found, +somewhat to their own surprise, that they were alive and well after +the blizzard; and knots of men were clustered here and there, +discussing the storm, while some were already at work tunnelling +through the drifts. + +Mr. Perkins, the butcher, had just got his door open, and great was +his amazement when Maine hailed him from the top of a great drift, +and demanded a quarter of mutton with some soup meat. + +[Illustration: "MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT."] + +"Yes, miss!" he stammered, open-mouthed with astonishment. "I--I've +got the meat; but I wasn't--my team isn't out this morning. I don't +know about sending it." + +"I have a 'team' here!" said Maine, quietly, pulling her sled +alongside. "Give me the mutton, Mr. Perkins; you may charge it to +Miss Wayland, please, and I will take it home." + +The butter-man and the grocer were visited in the same way, and Maine, +rather embarrassed by the concentrated observation of the whole +village, turned to pull her laden sled back, when suddenly a window +was thrown open, and a voice exclaimed: + +"Young woman! I will give you ten dollars for the use of those +snow-shoes for an hour!" + +Maine looked up in amazement, and laughed merrily when she saw the +well-known countenance of the village doctor. + +"What! You, my dear young lady?" cried the good man. "This is 'Maine +to the Rescue,' indeed! I might have known it was you. But I repeat +my offer. Make it anything you please, only let me have the +snow-shoes. I cannot get a horse out, and have two patients +dangerously ill. What is your price for the magic shoes?" + +"My price, doctor?" repeated Maine, looking up with dancing eyes. +"My price is--one cent. For the Missionary Fund! The snow-shoes are +yours, and I will get home somehow with my sled and the mutton." + +So she did, and Doctor Fowler made his calls with the snow-shoes, +and saved a life, and brought cheer and comfort to many. But it was +ten dollars, and not one cent, which he gave to the Missionary Fund. + + + + +THE SCARLET LEAVES + + +"The Committee will please come to order!" said Maine. + +"What's up?" asked Massachusetts, pausing in her occupation of +peeling chestnuts. + +"Why, you know well enough, Massachusetts. Here it is Wednesday, and +we don't know yet what we are going to do on Friday evening. We must +do something, or go shamed to our graves. Never a senior class has +missed its Frivolous Friday, since the school began." + +"Absolutely no hope of the play?" + +"None! Alma's part is too important; no one could possibly take it +at two days' notice. Unless--they say Chicago has a real gift for +acting; but somehow, I don't feel as if she were the person." + +"I should bar that, positively," put in Tennessee. "In the first +place, Chicago has not been here long enough to be identified with +the class. She is clever, of course, or she could not have entered +junior last year; but--well, it isn't necessary to say anything more; +she is out of the question." + +"It is too exasperating!" said Massachusetts. "Alma might have +waited another week before coming down with measles." + +"It's harder for her than for any one else, Massachusetts," said +Maine. "Poor dear; she almost cried her eyes out yesterday, when the +spots appeared, and there was no more doubt." + +"Yes, I know that; she is a poor, unfortunate Lamb, and I love her, +you know I do; still, a growl may be permitted, Maine. There's +nothing criminal in a growl. The question is, as you were saying, +what shall we do?" + +"A dance?" + +"We had a dance last week!" said Maine; "at least the sophomores did, +and we don't want to copy them." + +"A straw-ride?" + +"A candy-pull?" + +"A concert?" + +"The real question is," said Tennessee, cracking her chestnut +leisurely, "what does Maine intend to do? If she thinks we made her +Class President because we meant to arrange things ourselves, she is +more ignorant than I supposed her. Probably she has the whole thing +settled in her Napoleonic mind. Out with it, Moosetocmaguntic!" + +Maine smiled, and looked round her. The Committee was clustered in a +group at the foot of a great chestnut-tree, at the very edge of a +wood. The leaves were still thick on the trees, and the October sun +shone through their golden masses, pouring a flood of warmth and +light down on the greensward, sprinkled with yellow leaves and +half-open chestnut burrs. Massachusetts and Tennessee, sturdy and +four-square as their own hills; Old New York and New Jersey, and +Maine herself, a tall girl with clear, kind eyes, and a color that +came and went as she talked. This was the Committee. + +[Illustration: THE CONFERENCE.] + +"Well," said Maine, modestly. "I did have an idea, girls. I don't +know whether you will approve or not, but--what do you say to a +fancy ball?" + +"A fancy ball! at two days' notice!" + +"Penobscot is losing her mind. Pity to see it shattered, for it was +once a fine organ." + +"Be quiet, Tennessee! I don't mean anything elaborate, of course. +But I thought we might have an informal frolic, and dress up in--oh, +anything we happened to have. Not call it a dance, but have dancing +all the same; don't you see? There are all kinds of costumes that +can be got up with very little trouble, and no expense to speak of." + +"For example!" said Massachusetts. "She has it all arranged, girls; +all we have to do is to sit back and let wisdom flow in our ears." + +"Massachusetts, if you tease me any more, _I'll_ sit back, and let +you do it all yourself. Well, then--let me see! Tennessee--to tell +the truth, I didn't sleep very well last night; my head ached; and I +amused myself by planning a few costumes, just in case you should +fancy the idea." + +"Quack! quack!" said Massachusetts. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but +you _are_ a duck, and I must just show that I can speak your language. +Go on!" + +"Tennessee, I thought you might be an Indian. You must have something +that will show your hair. With my striped shawl for a blanket, and +the cock's feather out of Jersey's hat--what do you think?" + +"Perfect!" said Tennessee. "And I can try effects with my new +paint-box, one cheek stripes, the other spots. Hurrah! next!" + +"Old New York, you must be a flower of some kind. Or--why not a +basket of flowers? You could have a basket-work bodice, don't you see? +and flowers coming out of it all round your neck--your neck is so +pretty, you ought to show it--" + +"Or carrots and turnips!" said the irrepressible Massachusetts. +"Call her a Harvest Hamper, and braid her lovely locks with strings +of onions!" + +"Thank you," laughed Old New York, a slender girl whose flower-like +beauty made her a pleasure to look at. "I think I'll keep to the posy, +Massachusetts. Go on, Maine! what shall Massachusetts be, and what +will you be yourself?" + +"Massachusetts ought by rights to be an apple, a nice fat rosy apple; +but I don't quite know how that can be managed." + +"Then I shall be a codfish!" said Massachusetts, decidedly. +"I am not going to desert Mr. Micawber--I mean the Bay State. I +shall go as a salt codfish. _Dixi_! Pass on to the Pine-Tree!" + +"Why, so I might be a pine-tree! I didn't think of that. But still, +I don't think I will; I meant to be October. The leaves at home are +so glorious in October, and I saw some scarlet leaves yesterday that +will be lovely for chaplets and garlands." + +"What are they? the maples don't turn red here--too near the sea, I +suppose." + +"I don't know what they are. Pointed leaves, rather long and delicate, +and the most splendid color you ever saw. There is just this one +little tree, near the crossroad by the old stone house. I haven't +seen anything like it about here. I found it yesterday, and just +stood and looked at it, it was so beautiful. Yes, I shall be October; +I'll decide on that. What's that rustling in the wood? aren't we all +here? I thought I heard something moving among the trees. I do +believe some one is in there, Massachusetts." + +"I was pulling down a branch; don't be imaginative, my dear. Well, +go on! are we to make out all the characters?" + +"Why--I thought not. Some of the girls will like better to choose +their own, don't you think? I thought we, as the Committee, might +make out a list of suggestions, though, and then they can do as they +please. But now, I wish some of you others would suggest something; +I don't want to do it all." + +"Daisy will have to be her namesake, of course," said Tennessee. + +"Jersey can be a mosquito," said Old New York; "she's just the +figure for it." + +"Thank you!" said Jersey, who weighed ninety pounds. "Going on that +theory, Pennsylvania ought to go as an elephant, and Rhode Island as +a giraffe." + +"And Chicago as a snake--no! I didn't mean that!" cried Maine. + +"You said it! you said it!" cried several voices, in triumph. + +"The Charitable Organ has called names at last!" said Jersey, +laughing. "And she has hit it exactly. Now, Maine, what is the use +of looking pained? the girl _is_ a snake--or a sneak, which amounts +to the same thing. Let us have truth, I say, at all hazards." + +"I am sorry!" said Maine, simply. "I am not fond of Chicago, and +that is the very reason why I should not call her names behind her +back. It slipped out before I knew it; I am sorry and ashamed, and +that is all there is to say. And now, suppose we go home, and tell +the other girls about the party." + +The Committee trooped off across the hill, laughing and talking, +Maine alone grave and silent. As their voices died away, the ferns +nodded beside a great pine-tree that stood just within the border of +the wood, not six yards from where they had been sitting. A slender +dark girl rose from the fern-clump in which she had been crouching, +and shook the pine-needles from her dress. Very cautiously she +parted the screen of leaves, and looked after the retreating girls. + +"That was worth while!" she said; and her voice, though quiet, was +full of ugly meaning. "Snakes can hear, Miss Oracle, and bite, too. +We'll see about those scarlet leaves!" + + + + +PART II + + + "Tra la, tra lee, + I want my tea!" + +Sang Tennessee, as she ran up-stairs. "Oh, Maine, is that you? my +dear, my costume is simply too perfect for anything. I've been out +in the woods, practising my war-whoop. Three yelps and a screech; I +flatter myself it is the _most_ blood-curdling screech you ever heard. +I'm going to have a dress-rehearsal now, all by myself. Come and +see--why, what's the matter, Maine? something is wrong with you. +What is it?" + +"Oh! nothing serious," said Maine, trying to speak lightly. +"I must get up another costume, that's all, and there isn't much time." + +"Why! what has happened?" + +"The scarlet leaves are gone." + +"Gone! fallen, do you mean?" + +"No! some one has cut or broken every branch. There is not one left. +The leaves made the whole costume, you see; it amounts to nothing +without them, merely a yellow gown." + +"Oh! my dear, what a shame! Who could have taken them?" + +"I cannot imagine. I thought I would get them to-day, and keep them +in water over night, so as to have them all ready to-morrow. Oh, well, +it can't be helped. I can call myself a sunflower, or Black-eyed +Susan, or some other yellow thing. It's absurd to mind, of course, +only--" + +"Only, being human, you do mind," said Tennessee, putting her arm +round her friend's waist. "I should think so, dear. We don't care +about having you canonized just yet. But, Maine, there must be more +red leaves somewhere. This comes of living near the sea. Now, in my +mountains, or in your woods, we could just go out and fill our arms +with glory in five minutes, whichever way we turned. These murmuring +pines and--well, I don't know that there are any hemlocks--are all +very splendid, and no one loves them better than I do; but for a +Harvest festival decoration, '_Ils ne sont pas la dedans_,' as the +French have it." + +"Slang, Tennessee! one cent!" + +"On the contrary; foreign language, mark of commendation. + +"But come now, and see my war-dance. I didn't mean to let any one +see it before-hand, but you are a dear old thing, and you shall. And +then, we can take counsel about your costume. Not that I have the +smallest anxiety about that; I've no doubt you have thought of +something pretty already. I don't see how you do it. When any one +says 'Clothes' to me, I never can think of anything but red flannel +petticoats, if you will excuse my mentioning the article. I think +Black-eyed Susan sounds delightful. How would you dress for it? you +have the pretty yellow dress all ready." + +"I should put brown velveteen with it. I have quite a piece left +over from my blouse. I'll get some yellow crepe paper, and make a hat, +or cap, with a brown crown, you know, and yellow petals for the brim; +and have a brown bodice laced together over the full yellow waist, +and--" + +The two girls passed on, talking cheerfully--it is always soothing +to talk about pretty clothes, especially when one is as clever as +Maine was, and can make, as Massachusetts used to say, a court train +out of a jack-towel. + +A few minutes after, Massachusetts came along the same corridor, and +tapped at another door. Hearing "Come in!" she opened the door and +looked in. + +"Busy, Chicago? beg pardon! Miss Cram asked me, as I was going by, to +show you the geometry lesson, as you were not in class yesterday." + +"Thanks! come in, won't you?" said Chicago, rising ungraciously from +her desk, "I was going to ask Miss Cram, of course, but I'm much +obliged." + +Massachusetts pointed out the lesson briefly, and turned to go, when +her eyes fell on a jar set on the ground, behind the door. + +"Hallo!" she said, abruptly. "You've got scarlet leaves, too. Where +did you get them?" + +"I found them," said Chicago, coldly. "They were growing wild, on +the public highway. I had a perfect right to pick them." + +There was a defiant note in her voice, and Massachusetts looked at +her with surprise. The girl's eyes glittered with an uneasy light, +and her dark cheek was flushed. + +"I don't question your right," said Massachusetts, bluntly, +"but I do question your sense. I may be mistaken, but I don't +believe those leaves are very good to handle. They look to me +uncommonly like dogwood. I'm not sure; but if I were you, I would +show them to Miss Flower before I touched them again." + +She nodded and went out, dismissing the matter from her busy mind. + +"Spiteful!" said Chicago, looking after her sullenly. + +"She suspects where I got the leaves, and thinks she can frighten me +out of wearing them. I never saw such a hateful set of girls as +there are in this school. Never mind, sweet creatures! The 'snake' +has got the scarlet leaves, and she knows when she has got a good +thing." + +She took some of the leaves from the jar, and held them against her +black hair. They were brilliantly beautiful, and became her well. +She looked in the glass and nodded, well pleased with what she saw +there; then she carefully clipped the ends of the branches, and put +fresh water in the jar before replacing them. + +"Indian Summer will take the shine out of Black-eyed Susan, I'm +afraid," she said to herself. "Poor Susan, I am sorry for her." She +laughed; it was not a pleasant laugh; and went back to her books. + + + + +PART III. + + +"What a pretty sight!" + +It was Miss Wayland who spoke. She and the other teachers were +seated on the raised platform at the end of the gymnasium. The long +room was wreathed with garlands and brilliantly lighted, and they +were watching the girls as they flitted by in their gay dresses, to +the waltz that good Miss Flower was playing. + +"How ingenious the children are!" Miss Wayland continued. "Look at +Virginia there, as Queen Elizabeth! Her train is my old party cloak +turned inside out, and her petticoat--you recognize that?" + +"I, not!" said Mademoiselle, peering forward. "I am too near of my +sight. What ees it?" + +"The piano cover. That Persian silk, you know, that my brother sent +me. I never knew how handsome it was before. The ruff, and those +wonderful puffed sleeves, are mosquito-netting; the whole effect is +superb--at a little distance." + +"I thought Virginie not suffeeciently clayver for to effect zis!" +said Mademoiselle. "Of custome, she shows not--what do you say? +--invention." + +"Oh, she simply wears the costume, with her own peculiar little air +of dignity. Maine designed it. Maine is costumer in chief. The +Valiant Three, Maine, Massachusetts, and Tennessee, took all the +unpractical girls in hand, and simply--dressed them. _Entre nous_, +Mademoiselle, I wish, in some cases, that they would do it every day." + +"_Et moi aussi_!" exclaimed Mademoiselle, nodding eagerly. + +"Maine herself is lovely," said Miss Cram. "I think hers is really +the prettiest costume in the room; all that soft brown and yellow is +really charming, and suits her to perfection." + +"Yes; and I am so glad of it, for the child was sadly disappointed +about some other costume she had planned, and got this up almost at +the last moment. She is a clever child, and a good one. Do look at +Massachusetts! Massachusetts, my dear child, what do you call +yourself? you are a most singular figure." + +"The Codfish, Miss Wayland; straight from Boston State-House. Admire +my tail, please! I got up at five o'clock this morning to finish it, +and I must confess I am proud of it." + +She napped her tail, which was a truly astonishing one, made of +newspapers neatly plaited and sewed together, and wriggled her body, +clad in well-fitting scales of silver paper. "Quite a fish, I +flatter myself?" she said, insinuatingly. + +"Very like a whale, if not like a codfish," said Miss Wayland, +laughing heartily. "You certainly are one of the successes of the +evening, Massachusetts, and the Mosquito is another, in that filmy +gray. Is that mosquito-netting, too? I congratulate you both on your +skill. By the way, what does Chicago represent? she is very effective, +with all those scarlet leaves. What are they, I wonder!" + +Massachusetts turned hastily, and a low whistle came from her lips. +"Whew! I beg pardon, Miss Wayland. It was the codfish whistled, not I; +it's a way they have on Friday evenings. I told that girl to ask +Miss Flower about those leaves; I am afraid they are--oh, here is +Miss Flower!" as the good botany teacher came towards them, rather +out of breath after her playing. + +"Miss Flower, what are those leaves, please? those in Chicago's hair, +and on her dress." + +Miss Flower looked, and her cheerful face grew grave. + +"_Rhus veneneta_" she said; "poison dogwood." + +"I was afraid so!" said Massachusetts. "I told her yesterday that I +thought they were dogwood, and advised her to show them to you +before she touched them again." + +"Poor child!" said kind Miss Flower. "She has them all about her +face and neck, too. We must get them off at once." + +She was starting forward, but Miss Wayland detained her. + +"The mischief is done now, is it not?" she said. "And after all, +dogwood does not poison every one. I have had it in my hands, and +never got the smallest injury. Suppose we let her have her evening, +at least till after supper, which will be ready now in a few minutes. +If she is affected by the poison, this is her last taste of the +Harvest Festivities." + +They watched the girl. She was receiving compliments on her striking +costume, from one girl and another, and was in high spirits. She +glanced triumphantly about her, her eyes lighting up when they fell +on Maine in her yellow dress. She certainly looked brilliantly +handsome, the flaming scarlet of the leaves setting off her dark +skin and flashing eyes to perfection. + +Presently she put her hand up to her cheek, and held it there a +moment. + +"Aha!" said Massachusetts, aloud. "She's in for it!" + +"In for what?" said Maine, who came up at that moment. Following the +direction of Massachusetts' eyes, she drew her apart, and spoke in a +low tone. "I shall not say anything, Massachusetts, and I hope you +will not. Don't you know?" she added, seeing her friend's look of +inquiry. "Those are my scarlet leaves." + +"No!" + +"Yes. I have found out all about it. Daisy lingered behind the rest +of us the other day, when I had been telling you all about the leaves, +to pick blackberries. She saw Chicago come out of the wood a few +minutes after we left, looking black as thunder. Don't you remember, +I thought I heard a rustling in the fern, and you laughed at me? She +was hidden there, and heard every word we said. Next day the leaves +were gone, and now they are on Chicago's dress instead of mine." + +"And a far better place for them!" exclaimed Massachusetts, +"though I am awfully sorry for her. Oh! you lucky, lucky girl! and +you dear, precious, stupid ignoramus, not to know poison dogwood +when you see it." + +"Poison dogwood! those beautiful leaves!" + +"Those beautiful leaves. That young woman is in for about two weeks +of as pretty a torture as ever Inquisitor or Iroquois could devise. +I know all about it, though there was a time when I also was ignorant. +Look! she is feeling of her cheek already; it begins to sting. +Tomorrow she will be all over patches, red and white; itching--there +is nothing to describe the itching. It is beyond words. Next day her +face will begin to swell, and in two days more--the School Birthday, +my dear--she will be like nothing human, a mere shapeless lump of +pain and horror. She will not sleep by night or rest by day. She +will go home to her parents, and they will not know her, but will +think we have sent them a smallpox patient by mistake. Her eyes--" + +"Oh, hush! hush, Massachusetts!" cried Maine. "Oh! poor thing! poor +thing! what shall I do? I feel as if it were all my fault, somehow." + +"Your fault that she sneaked and eavesdropped, and then stole your +decoration? Oh! come, Maine, don't be fantastic!" + +"No, Massachusetts, I don't mean that. But if I had only known, +myself, what they were, I should never have spoken of them, and all +this would never have happened." + +"The moral of which is, study botany!" said Massachusetts. + +"I'll begin to-morrow!" said Maine. + + * * * * * + +"And what is to be the end of the dogwood story, I wonder!" said +Tennessee, meeting Massachusetts in a breathless interval between +two exercises on the School Birthday, the crowning event of the +Harvest Festivities at Miss Wayland's. "Have you heard the last +chapter?" + +"No! what is it?" + +"Maine is in a dark room with the moaning Thing that was Chicago, +singing to her, and telling her about the speeches and things last +night. She vows she will not come out again to-day, just because she +was at chapel and heard the singing this morning; says that was the +best of it, and she doesn't care much about dancing. Maine! and +Miss Wayland will not let us break in the door and carry her off +bodily; says she will be happier where she is, and will always be +glad of this day. I'll tell you what it is, Massachusetts, if this +is the New England conscience I hear so much about, I'm precious +glad I was born in Tennessee." + +"No, you aren't, Old One! you wish you had been born in Maine." + +"Well, perhaps I do!" said Tennessee. + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Green Satin Gown, by Laura E. 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Richards + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9397] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on September 29, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREEN SATIN GOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Robert Prince +and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +BY LAURA E. RICHARDS + +_Author of_ "Captain January," "Melody," "Three Margarets," +"Peggy," "Queen Hildegarde," etc., etc. + + +Illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +Published May, 1903 + + + + +TO +THE GIRLS OF +The Friday Club of Gardiner, Maine +THIS VOLUME +IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + +BLUE EGYPTIANS + +LITTLE BENJAMIN + +DON ALONZO + +THE SHED CHAMBER + +MAINE TO THE RESCUE + +THE SCARLET LEAVES + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"THE FIRST TITTER PUT A FIRE IN MY VEINS THAT KEPT ME WARM ALL THE + EVENING" + +"GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP AGAIN" + +"'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; AND--IT'S CRYING!'" + +"'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'" + +"MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT" + +THE CONFERENCE + + + + +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN + + +Who ever wore such a queer-looking thing? I wore it myself, dear, +once upon a time; yes, I did! Perhaps you would like to hear about it, +while you mend that tear in your muslin. Sit down, then, and let us +be cosy. + +I was making a visit in Hillton once, when I was seventeen years old, +just your age; staying with dear old Miss Persis Elderby, who is now +dead. I have told you about her, and it is strange that I have never +told you the story of the green satin gown; but, indeed, it is years +since I looked at it. We were great friends, Miss Persis and I; and +we never thought much about the difference in our ages, for she was +young for her years, and I was old for mine. In our daily walk +through the pretty, sleepy Hillton street--we always went for the +mail, together, for though Miss Persis seldom received letters, she +always liked to see mine, and it was quite the event of the day--my +good friend seldom failed to point out to me a stately mansion that +stood by itself on a little height, and to say in a tone of pride, +"The Le Baron place, my dear; the finest place in the county. Madam +Le Baron, who lives there alone now, is as great a lady as any in +Europe, though she wears no coronet to her name." + +I never knew exactly what Miss Persis meant by this last remark, but +it sounded magnificent, and I always gazed respectfully at the gray +stone house which sheltered so grand a personage. Madam Le Baron, it +appeared, never left the house in winter, and this was January. Her +friends called on her at stated intervals, and, to judge from +Miss Persis, never failed to come away in a state of reverential +enthusiasm. I could not help picturing to myself the great lady as +about six feet tall, clad in purple velvet, and waving a +peacock-feather fan; but I never confided my imaginings even to the +sympathetic Miss Persis. + +One day my friend returned from a visit to the stone house, quite +breathless, her pretty old face pink with excitement. She sat down +on the chair nearest the door, and gazed at me with, speechless +emotion. + +"Dear Miss Persis!" I cried. "What has happened? Have you had bad +news?" + +Miss Persis shook her head. "Bad news? I should think not, indeed! +Child, Madam Le Baron wishes to see you. More I cannot say at present. +Not a word! Put on your best hat, and come with me. Madam Le Baron +waits for us!" + +It was as if she had said, "The Sultan is on the front door-step." I +flew up-stairs, and made myself as smart as I could in such a hurry. +My cheeks were as pink as Miss Persis's own, and though I had not +the faintest idea what was the matter, I felt that it must be +something of vital import. On the way, I begged my companion to +explain matters to me, but she only shook her head and trotted on the +faster. "No time!" she panted. "Speech delays me, my dear! All will +be explained; only make haste." + +We made such haste, that by the time we rang at the door of the +stone house neither of us could speak, and Miss Persis could only +make a mute gesture to the dignified maid who opened the door, and +who looked amazed, as well she might, at our burning cheeks and +disordered appearance. Fortunately, she knew Miss Persis well, and +lost no time in ushering us into a cool, dimly lighted parlor, hung +with family portraits. Here we sat, and fanned ourselves with our +pocket-handkerchiefs, while I tried to find breath for a question; +but there was not time! A door opened at the further end of the room; +there was a soft rustle, a smell of sandal-wood in the air. The next +moment Madam Le Baron stood before us. A slender figure, about my +own height, in a quaint, old-fashioned dress; snowy hair, arranged +in puff on puff, with exquisite nicety; the darkest, softest eyes I +ever saw, and a general air of having left her crown in the next room; +this was the great lady. + +We rose, and I made my best courtesy,--we courtesied then, my dear, +instead of bowing like pump-handles,--and she spoke to us in a soft +old voice, that rustled like the silk she wore, though it had a clear +sound, too. "So this is the child!" she said. "I trust you are very +well, my dear! And has Miss Elderby told you of the small particular +in which you can oblige me?" + +Miss Persis hastened to say that she wasted no time on explanations, +but had brought me as quickly as might be, thinking that the main +thing. Madam Le Baron nodded, and smiled a little; then she turned +to me; a few quiet words, and I knew all about it. She had received +that morning a note from her grandniece, "a young and giddy person," +who lived in B----, some twenty miles away, announcing that she and +a party of friends were about to drive over to Hillton to see the +old house. She felt sure that her dear aunt would be enchanted to +see them, as it must be "quite too forlorn for her, all alone in +that great barn;" so she might expect them the next evening (that is, +the evening of this very day), in time for supper, and no doubt as +hungry as hunters. There would be about a dozen of them, probably, +but she knew there was plenty of room at Birchwood, and it would be +a good thing to fill up the empty rooms for once in a way; so, +looking forward to a pleasant meeting, the writer remained her +dearest aunt's "affectionate niece, Effie Gay." + +"The child has no mother," said Madam Le Baron to Miss Persis; then +turning to me, she said: "I am alone, save for my two maids, who are +of middle age, and not accustomed to youthful visitors. Learning +from my good friend, Miss Elderby, that a young gentlewoman was +staying at her house, I conceived the idea of asking you to spend +the night with me, and such portion of the next day as my guests may +remain. If you are willing to do me this service, my dear, you may +put off your bonnet, and I will send for your evening dress and your +toilet necessaries." + +I had been listening in a dream, hearing what was said, but thinking +it all like a fairy story, chiefly impressed by the fact that the +speaker was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. +The last sentence, however, brought me to my senses with a vengeance. +With scarlet cheeks I explained that I had brought no evening dress +with me; that I lived a very quiet life at home, and had expected +nothing different here; that, to be quite frank, I had not such a +thing as an evening dress in the world. Miss Persis turned pale with +distress and mortification; but Madam Le Baron looked at me quietly, +with her lovely smile. + +"I will provide you with a suitable dress, my child," she said. +"I have something that will do very well for you. If you like to go +to your room now, my maid will attend you, and bring what is +necessary. We expect our guests in time for supper, at eight o'clock." + +Decidedly, I had walked into a fairy tale, or else I was dreaming! +Here I sat in a room hung with flowered damask, in a wonderful chair, +by a wonderful fire; and a fairy, little and withered and brown, +dressed in what I knew must be black bombazine, though I knew it +only from descriptions, was bringing me tea, and plum-cake, on a +silver tray. She looked at me with kind, twinkling eyes, and said +she would bring the dress at once; then left me to my own wondering +fancies. I hardly knew what to be thinking of, so much was happening: +more, it seemed, in these few hours, than in all my life before. I +tried to fix my mind on the gay party that would soon fill the silent +house with life and tumult; I tried to fancy how Miss Effie Gay +would look, and what she would say to me; but my mind kept coming +back to the dress, the evening dress, that I was to be privileged to +wear. What would it be like? Would silk or muslin be prettier? If +only it were not pink! A red-haired girl in pink was a sad sight! + +Looking up, I saw a portrait on the wall, of a beautiful girl, in a +curious, old-time costume. The soft dark eyes and regal turn of the +head told me that it was my hostess in her youth; and even as I +looked, I heard the rustle again, and smelt the faint odor of +sandalwood; and Madam Le Baron came softly in, followed by the fairy +maid, bearing a long parcel. + +"Your gown, my dear," she said, "I thought you would like to be +preparing for the evening. Undo it, Jessop!" + +Jessop lifted fold on fold of tissue-paper. I looked, expecting I +know not what fairy thing of lace and muslin: I saw--the green satin +gown! + +We were wearing large sleeves then, something like yours at the +present day, and high collars; the fashion was at its height. This +gown had long, tight, wrinkled sleeves, coming down over the hand, +and finished with a ruffle of yellow lace; the neck, rounded and +half-low, had a similar ruffle almost deep enough to be called a ruff; +the waist, if it could be called a waist, was up under the arms: +briefly, a costume of my grandmother's time. Little green satin +slippers lay beside it, and a huge feather-fan hung by a green ribbon. +Was this a jest? was it--I looked up, with burning cheeks and eyes +suffused; I met a glance so kind, so beaming with good-will, that my +eyes fell, and I could only hope that my anguish had not been visible. + +"Shall Jessop help you, my dear?" said Madam Le Baron. "You can do +it by yourself? Well, I like to see the young independent. I think +the gown will become you; it has been considered handsome." She +glanced fondly at the shining fabric, and left the room; the maid, +after one sharp glance at me, in which I thought I read an amused +compassion, followed; and I was left alone with the green satin gown. + +Cry? No, I did not cry: I had been brought up not to cry; but I +suffered, my dear, as one does suffer at seventeen. I thought of +jumping out of the window and running away, back to Miss Persis; I +thought of going to bed, and saying I was ill. It was true, I said +to myself, with feverish violence: I _was_ ill, sick with shame and +mortification and disappointment. Appear before this gay party, +dressed like my own great-grandmother? I would rather die! A person +might easily die of such distress as this--and so on, and so on! + +Suddenly, like a cool touch on my brow, came a thought, a word of my +Uncle John's, that had helped me many a time before. + +"Endeavor, my dear, to maintain a sense of proportion!" + +The words fell with weight on my distracted mind. I sat up straight +in the armchair into which I had flung myself, face downward. Was +there any proportion in this horror? I shook myself, then put the +two sides together, and looked at them. On one side, two lovely old +ladies, one of whom I could perhaps help a little, both of whom I +could gratify; on the other, my own--dear me! was it vanity? I +thought of the two sweet old faces, shining with kindness; I fancied +the distress, the disappointment, that might come into them, if I-- + +"Yes, dear uncle," I said aloud, "I have found the proportion!" I +shook myself again, and began to dress. And now a happy thought +struck me. Glancing at the portrait on the wall, I saw that the fair +girl was dressed in green. Was it? Yes, it must be--it was--the very +same dress! Quickly, and as neatly as I could, I arranged my hair in +two great puffs, with a butterfly knot on the top of my head, in the +style of the picture; if only I had the high comb! I slipped on the +gown, which fitted me well enough. I put on the slippers, and tied +the green ribbons round and round my ankles; then I lighted all the +candles, and looked at myself. A perfect guy? Well, perhaps--and +yet-- + +At this moment Jessop entered, bringing a pair of yellow gloves; she +looked me over critically, saying nothing; glanced at the portrait, +withdrew, and presently reappeared, with the high tortoise-shell +comb in her hand. She placed it carefully in my hair, surveyed me +again, and again looked at the picture. Yes, it was true, the +necklace was wanting; but of course-- + +Really, Jessop was behaving like a jack-in-the-box! She had +disappeared again, and now here she was for the third time; but this +time Madam Le Baron was with her. The old lady looked at me silently, +at my hair, then up at the picture. The sight of the pleasure in her +lovely face trampled under foot, put out of existence, the last +remnant of my foolish pride. + +She turned to Jessop and nodded. "Yes, by all means!" she said. The +maid put into her hand a long morocco box; Madam kissed me, and with +soft, trembling fingers clasped the necklace round my neck. +"It is a graceful compliment you pay me, my child," she said, +glancing at the picture again, with eyes a little dimmed. "Oblige me +by wearing this, to complete the vision of my past youth." + +Ten stars of chrysoprase, the purest and tenderest green in the world, +set in delicately wrought gold. I need not describe the necklace to +you. You think it the most beautiful jewel in the world, and so do I; +and I have promised that you shall wear it on your eighteenth +birthday. + +Madam Le Baron saw nothing singular in my appearance. She never +changed the fashion of her dress, being of the opinion, as she told +me afterward, that a gentlewoman's dress is her own affair, not her +mantua-maker's; and her gray and silver brocade went very well with +the green satin. We stood side by side for a moment, gazing into the +long, dim mirror; then she patted my shoulder and gave a little sigh. + +"Your auburn hair looks well with the green," she said. "My hair was +dark, but otherwise--Shall we go down, my dear?" + +I will not say much about the evening. It was painful, of course; +but Effie Gay had no mother, and much must be pardoned in such a case. +No doubt I made a quaint figure enough among the six or eight gay +girls, all dressed in the latest fashion; but the first moment was +the worst, and the first titter put a fire in my veins that kept me +warm all the evening. An occasional glance at Madam Le Baron's +placid face enabled me to preserve my sense of proportion, and I +remembered that two wise men, Solomon and my Uncle John, had +compared the laughter of fools to the crackling of thorns under a pot. +And--and there were some who did not laugh. + +Pin it up, my dear! Your father has come, and will be wanting his tea. + +I can tell you the rest of the story in a few words. + +A year from that time Madam Le Baron died; and a few weeks after her +death, a parcel came for me from Hillton. + +Opening it in great wonder, what did I find but the gown, the green +satin gown, with the slippers and fan, and the tortoise-shell comb +in a leather case! Lifting it reverently from the box, the dress felt +singularly heavy on my arm, and a moment's search revealed a strange +matter. The pocket was full of gold pieces, shining half-eagles, +which fell about me in a golden shower, and made me cry out with +amazement; but this was not all! The tears sprang to my eyes as I +opened the morocco box and took out the chrysoprase necklace: tears +partly of gratitude and pleasure, partly of sheer kindness and love +and sorrow for the sweet, stately lady who had thought of me in her +closing days, and had found (they told me afterward) one of her last +pleasures in planning this surprise for me. + +There is something more that I might say, my dear. Your dear father +was one of that gay sleighing party; and he often speaks of the +first time he saw me--when I was coming down the stairs in the green +satin gown. + + + + +BLUE EGYPTIANS [1] + + +A PAPER-MILL STORY + +"I wouldn't, Lena!" + +"Well, I guess I shall!" + +"Don't, Lena! please don't! you will be sorry, I am sure, if you do +it. It cannot bring good, I know it cannot!" + +"The idea! Mary Denison, you are too old-fashioned for anything. I'd +like to know what harm it can do." + +The rag-room was nearly deserted. The whistle had blown, and most of +the girls had hurried away to their dinner. Two only lingered behind, +deep in conversation; Mary Denison and Lena Laxen. + +Mary was sitting by her sorting-table, busily sorting rags as she +talked. She was a fair, slender girl, and looked wonderfully fresh +and trim in her gray print gown, with a cap of the same material +fitting close to her head, and hiding her pretty hair. The other +girl was dark and vivacious, with laughing black eyes and a careless +mouth. She was picturesque enough in her blue dress, with the +scarlet handkerchief tied loosely over her hair; but both kerchief +and dress showed the dust plainly, and the dark locks that escaped +here and there were dusty too, showing little of the care that may +keep one neat even in a rag-room. + +"It's just as pretty as it can be!" Lena went on, half-coaxing, +half-defiant. "You ought to see it, Mame! A silk waist, every bit as +good as new, only of course it's mussed up, lying in the bag; and a +skirt, and lots of other things, all as nice as nice! I can't think +what the folks that had them meant, putting such things into the rags: +why, that waist hadn't much more than come out of the shop, you +might say. And do you think I'm going to let it go through the duster, +and then be thrown out, and somebody else get it? No, sir! and it's +no good for rags, you know it isn't, Mary Denison." + +"I know that it is not yours, Lena, nor mine!" said Mary, steadily. +"But I'll tell you what you might do; go straight to Mr. Gordon, and +tell him about the pretty waist,--very likely it got in by mistake, +--tell him it is no good for rags, and ask if you may have it. Like +as not he'll let you have it; and if not, you will find out what his +reason is. I think we ought to suppose he has some reason for what +he does." + +Lena laughed spitefully. + +"Like as not he's going to take it home to his own girl!" she said. +"I saw her in the street the other day, and I wouldn't have been +seen dead with the hat she had on; not a flower, nor even a scrap of +a feather; just a plain band and a goose-quill stuck in it. Real +poorhouse, I thought it looked, and he as rich as a Jew. I guess I +sha'n't go to Mr. Gordon; he's just as hateful as he can be. He gave +out word that no one was to touch that bag, nor so much as go near it; +and he had it set off in a corner of the outer shed, close by the +chloride barrels, so that everything in it will smell like poison. +If that isn't mean, I don't know what is. + +"Well, I can't stay here all day, Mame. Aren't you coming?" + +"Pretty soon!" said Mary. "Don't wait for me, Lena! I want to finish +this stint, so as to have the afternoon off. Mother's poorly to-day, +and I want to cook something nice for her supper." + +Lena nodded and went out, shutting the door with a defiant swing. +Mary looked after her doubtfully, as if hesitating whether she ought +not to follow and make some stronger plea; but the next moment she +bent over her work again. + +"I must hurry!" she said. "I'll see Lena after dinner, and try to +make her promise not to touch that bag. I don't see what has got +into her." + +Mary worked away steadily. The rags were piled in an iron sieve +before her; they were mostly the kind called "Blue Egyptians," +cotton cloth dyed with indigo, which had come far across the sea from +Egypt. Musty and fusty enough they were, and Mary often turned her +head aside as she sorted them carefully, putting the good rags into +a huge basket that stood beside her on the floor, while the bits of +woollen cloth, of paper and string and other refuse, went into +different compartments of the sorting-table, which was something +like an old-fashioned box-desk. + +Mary was a quick worker, and her basket was already nearly full of +rags. Fastened upright beside her seat was a great knife, not unlike +a scythe-blade, with which she cut off the buttons and hooks and eyes, +running the garment along the keen edge with a quick and practised +hand. Usually she amused herself by imagining stories about the +buttons and their former owners, for she was a fanciful girl, and +her child-life, without brothers or sisters, had bred in her the +habit of solitary play and "make-believe," which clung to her now +that she was a tall girl of sixteen. But to-day she was not thinking +of the Blue Egyptians. Her thoughts were following Lena on her +homeward way, and she was hoping devoutly that her own words might +have had some effect, and that Lena might pass by the forbidden bag +without lingering to be further tempted. It _was_ strange that this +one special bundle of rags, coming from a village at some distance, +should have been kept apart when the day's allowance was put into +the dusters. But--"Mother always says we ought to suppose there is a +reason for things!" she said to herself. And she shook her head +resolutely, and tried to make a "button-play." + +She pulled from the heap before her a dark blue garment, and turned +it over, examining it carefully. It seemed to be a woman's jacket. +It was of finer material than most of the "Egyptians," and the +fashion was quaint and graceful. There were remnants of embroidery +here and there, and the heavy glass buttons were like nothing Mary +had ever seen before. + +"I'll keep these," she said, "for little Jessie Brown; she will be +delighted with them. That child does make so much out of so little, +I'm fairly ashamed sometimes. These will be a fortune to Jessie. +I'll tell her that I think most likely they belonged to a princess +when they were new; they were up and down the front of a dress of +gold cloth trimmed with pearls, and she looked perfectly beautiful +when she had it on, and the Prince of the Fortunate Islands fell in +love with her." + +Buttons were a regular perquisite of the rag-girls in the Cumquot +Mill; indeed, any trifle, coin, or seal, or medal, was considered +the property of the finder, this being an unwritten law of the +rag-room. + +Mary cut the buttons off, and slipped them into her pocket; then she +ran her fingers round the edge of the jacket, in case there were any +hooks or other hard substance that had escaped her notice, and that +might blunt the knives of the cutter, into which it would next go. + +In a corner of the lining, her fingers met something hard. Here was +some object that had slipped down between the stuff and the lining, +and must be cut out. Mary ran the jacket along the cutting-knife, +and something rolled into her lap. Not a button this time! she held +it up to the light, and examined it curiously. It was a brooch, of +glass, or clear stones, in a tarnished silver setting. Dim and dusty, +it still seemed full of light, and glanced in the sun as Mary held +it up. + +"What a pretty thing!" she said. "I wonder if it is glass. I must +take this to Mr. Gordon, for I never found anything like it before. +Jessie cannot have this." + +She laid it carefully aside, and went on with her sorting, working +so quickly that in a few moments the sieve was empty, and the basket +piled with good cotton rags, ready for the cutting-machine. + +Taking her hat and shawl, Mary passed out, holding the brooch +carefully in her hand. There were few people in the mill, only the +machine-tenders, walking leisurely up and down beside their machines, +which whirred and droned on, regardless of dinnertime. The great +rollers went round and round, the broad white streams flowed on and +on over the screens, till the mysterious moment came when they +ceased to be wet pulp and became paper. + +Mary hardly glanced at the wonderful machines; they were an old +story to her, though in every throb they were telling over and over +the marvellous works of man. The machine-tenders nodded kindly in +return to her modest greeting, and looked after her with approval, +and said, "Nice gal!" to each other; but Mary hurried on until she +came to the finishing-room. Here she hoped to find a friend whom she +could consult about her discovery; and, sure enough, old James +Gregory was sitting on his accustomed stool, tying bundles of paper +with the perfection that no one else could equal. His back was +turned to the door, and he was crooning a fragment of an old +paper-mill song, which might have been composed by the beating +engine itself, so rhythmic and monotonous it was. + + + "'Gene, 'Gene, + Made a machine; + Joe, Joe, + Made it go; + Frank, Frank, + Turned the crank, + His mother came out, + And gave him a spank, + And knocked him over + The garden bank." + + +At Mary's cheerful "Good morning, Mr. Gregory!" the old man turned +slowly, and looked at the young girl with friendly eyes. + +"Good day, Mary! glad to see ye! goin' along home?" + +"In just a minute! I want to show you something, Mr. Gregory, and to +ask your advice, please." + +The old finisher turned completely round this time, and looked his +interest. Mary opened her hand, and displayed the brooch she had +found. + +James Gregory drew his lips into the form of a whistle, but made no +sound. He looked from the brooch to Mary, and back again. + +"Well?" he said. + +"I found it in the rags; blue Egyptians, you know, Mr. Gregory. It +was inside the lining of a jacket. Do you think--what do you think +about it? is it glass, or--something else?" + +Gregory took the ornament from her, and held it up to the light, +screwing his eyes to little points of light; then he polished it on +his sleeve, and held it up again. + +[Illustration: "GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP +AGAIN."] + +"Something else!" he said, briefly. + +"Is it--do you think it might be worth something, Mr. Gregory?" +asked Mary, rather timidly. + +"Yes!" roared Gregory, with a sudden explosion. "I do! I b'lieve +them's di'monds, sure as here I sit. Mary Denison, you've struck it +this time, or I'm a Dutchman." + +He got off his stool in great excitement, and walked up and down the +room, still holding the brooch in his hand. Mary looked after him, +and her face was very pale. She said one word softly, "Mother!" that +was all. + +Mary Denison and her mother were poor. Mrs. Denison was far from +strong, and they had no easy time of it, for there was little save +Mary's wages to feed and clothe the two women and pay their rent. +James Gregory knew all this; his pale old face was lighted with +emotion, and he stumped up and down the room at a rapid pace. + +Suddenly he stopped, and faced the anxious girl, who was following +him with bewildered eyes. + +"Findin's havin'!" he said, abruptly. "That's paper-mill law. Some +folks would tell ye to keep this to yourself, and sell it for what +you could get." + +Mary's face flushed. + +"But you do not tell me that!" she said, quietly. + +"No!" roared the old man, with another explosion, stamping violently +on the floor. "No, I don't. You're poor as spring snakes, and your +mother's sickly, and you've hard work to get enough to keep the +flesh on your bones; but I don't tell ye to do that. I tell ye to +take it straight to the Old Man, and tell him where ye found it, and +all about it. I've knowed him ever since his mustash growed, and +before. You go straight to him! He's in the office now." + +"I was going!" said Mary, simply. "I thought I'd come and see you +first, Mr. Gregory, you've always been so good to mother and me. +You--you couldn't manage to come with me, could you? I am afraid of +Mr. Gordon; I can't help it, though he is always pleasant to me." + +"I'll go!" said old James, with alacrity. "You come right along with +me!" + +In his eagerness he seized Mary by the arm, and kept his hold on her +as they passed out through the mill. The few "hands" who were at +work here and there gazed after them in amazement; for the old man +was dragging the girl along as if he had caught her in some offence, +and was going to deliver her up to justice. + +The same impression was made in the office, when the pair appeared +there. The two clerks stared open-mouthed, and judged after their +nature; for one of them said, instantly, to himself, "It's a mistake!" +while the other said, "I always knew that Denison girl was too pious +to last!" + +A tall man who sat at a desk in the corner looked up quietly. + +"Ah, Gregory!" he said. "What is it? Mary Denison? Good morning, Mary! +Anything wrong in the rag-room?" + +Gregory waved his hat excitedly. + +"If you'd look here, sir!" he said. "If you would just cast your eye +over that article, and tell this gal what you think of it! Blue +Egyptians, sir! luckiest rags that ever come into this mill, I've +always said. Well, sir?" + +Mr. Gordon was not easily stirred to excitement. It seemed an age to +the anxious girl and the impetuous old man, as he turned the brooch +over and over, holding it up in every light, polishing it, breathing +on it, then polishing it again. Gregory's hands twitched with +eagerness, and Mary felt almost faint with suspense. + +"You found this in the rags?" he asked at length, turning to Mary. +He spoke in his ordinary even tone, and Mary's heart sank, she could +not have told why. + +"Yes, sir!" she faltered. "I found it in a blue jacket. It was in +between the stuff and the lining. There were glass buttons on the +jacket." + +She drew them from her pocket and held them out; but Mr. Gordon, +after a glance, waved them back. + +"Those are of no value!" he said. "About this brooch, I am not so +sure. The stones may be real stones--I incline to think they are; +but it is possible that they may be paste. The imitations are +sometimes very perfect; no one but a jeweller can tell positively. I +will take it to Boston with me to-morrow, and have it examined." + +He dropped the brooch into a drawer at his side, turned the key and +put it in his pocket, all in his quiet, methodical way, as if he +were in the habit of examining diamond brooches every day; then he +nodded kindly to the pair, and bent over his papers again. + +Mary went out silently, and Gregory followed her with a dazed look +on his strong features. He looked back at the door two or three times, +but said nothing till they were back in the finishing-room. + +Then--"It's one of his days!" he said. "I've knowed him ever since +his mustash growed, and there's days when he's struck with a dumb +sperit, just like Scriptur'. Don't you fret, Mary! He'll see you +righted, or I'll give you my head." + +Mary might have thought that Mr. Gregory's head would be of little +use to her without the rest of him. She felt sadly dashed and +disappointed. She hardly knew what she had expected, but it was +something very different from this calm, every-day reception, this +total disregard of her own and her companion's excitement. + +"I guess he thinks they're nothing great!" she said, wearily. +"What was that he said about paste, Mr. Gregory? You never saw any +paste like that, did you? + +"No!" said Gregory, "I've heered of Di'mond Glue, but 'twan't +nothin' like stones--nor glass neither. You may run me through the +calenders if I know what he's drivin' at. But I'll trust him!" he +added, vehemently. "I done right to tell you to go to him. He's in +one of his moods to-day, but you'll hear from him, if there's +anything to hear, now mark my words! And now I'd go home, if I was +you, and see your ma'am, and get your dinner. And--Mary--I dono as +I'd say anything about this, if I was you. Things get round so in a +mill, ye know." + +Mary nodded assurance, and went home, trying to feel that nothing of +importance had happened. Do what she would, however, the golden +visions would come dancing before her eyes. Suppose--suppose the +stones should be real, after all! and suppose Mr. Gordon should give +her a part, at least, of the money they might bring in Boston. It +might--she knew diamonds were valuable--it might be thirty or forty +dollars. Oh! how rich she would be! The rent could be paid some time +in advance, and her mother could have the new shawl she needed so +badly: or would a cloak be better? cloaks were more in fashion, but +Mother said a good shawl was always good style. + +Turning the corner by her mother's house, she met one of the clerks +who had been in the office when she went in there. He looked at her +with the smile she always disliked, she hardly knew why. + +"You did the wrong thing that time, Miss Denison!" he said. + +"What do you mean, Mr. Hitchcock?" asked Mary. + +"You'll never see your diamonds again, nor the money for them!" +replied the man. "That's easy guessing. He'll come back and tell you +they're glass or paste, and that's the last you'll hear of them. And +the diamonds--for they are diamonds, right enough--will go into his +pocket, or on to his wife's neck. I know what's what! I wasn't born +down in these parts." + +"You don't know Mr. Gordon!" said Mary, warmly. "That isn't the way +he is thought of by those who do know him." + +The clerk was a newcomer from another State, and was not liked by +the mill-workers. + +"I know his kind!" he said, with a sneer; "and they're no good to +your kind, Mary Denison, nor to mine. Mark my words, you'll hear no +more of that breastpin." + +Mary turned away so decidedly that he said no more, but his eyes +followed her with a sinister look. + +Next moment he was greeting Lena Laxen cordially, and she was +dimpling and smiling all over at his compliments. Lena thought +Mr. Hitchcock "just elegant!" and believed that Mary was jealous when +she said she did not like him. Something now prompted her to tell +him about the silk waist in the forbidden sack; he took her view at +once and zealously. The boss (for he did not use the kindly title of +"Old Man," by which the other mill-hands designated Mr. Gordon, +though he was barely forty) had his eye on the things, most likely, +as he had on the pin Mary Denison found. Hadn't Lena heard about that? +Well, it was a burning shame, he could tell her; he would see that +she, Lena, wasn't fooled that way. And Lena, listening eagerly, +heard a story very different from that which had been told to +Mr. Gordon. + +In an hour the whole mill knew that Mary Denison had found a diamond +pin in the rags, and that Mr. Gordon had told her it was nothing but +hard glue, and had sold it himself in Boston for a thousand dollars, +and spent the money on a new horse. + +Nor was this all! Late that evening Lena Laxen stole from her home +with a shawl over her head, and met the clerk by the corner of the +outer shed. A few minutes of whispering and giggling, and she stole +back, with a bundle under her shawl; while Hitchcock tied a bright +silk handkerchief round his neck, and strutted off with the air of a +conqueror. + +Next morning, as Mary Denison was going to her work, Lena rapped on +the window, and called her attention by signs to the bodice she had +on. It was a gay striped silk, little worn, but still showing, in +spite of pressing, the marks of crumpling and tossing. The bright +colors suited Lena's dark skin well, and as she stood there with +flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, Mary thought she had never seen +her look prettier. At first she nodded and smiled in approval; but +the next moment a thought darted into her mind that made her clasp +her hands, and cry anxiously: + +"Oh! Lena, you didn't do it! you never did it! it's not _that_ waist +you have on?" + +Lena affected not to hear. She only nodded and laughed triumphantly, +and turned away, leaving Mary standing pale and distressed outside +the window. + +Mary hesitated. Should she go in and reason further with the wilful +girl, and try to persuade her to restore the stolen garment? +Something told her it would be useless; but still she was on the +point of going in, when old James Gregory came by, and asked her to +walk on with him. + +She complied, but not without an anxious look back at the window, +where no one was now to be seen. + +"Well, May," said Gregory, "how're ye feelin' to-day? hearty? that's +clever! I hope you wasn't frettin' about that pin any. Most girls +would, but you ain't the fool kind." + +"I don't know, Mr. Gregory!" said Mary, laughing. "I'm afraid I have +thought about it more or less, but I haven't been fretting. Where's +the use?" + +"Jes' so! jes' so!" assented the old man, with alacrity. + +"And I didn't say anything to Mother," Mary went on. "I didn't want +her to know about it unless something was really coming of it. Poor +Mother! she has enough to think about." + +"She has so!" said Gregory. "A sight o' thinkin' your mother doos, +Mary, and good thoughts, every one of 'em, I'll bet my next pay. +She's a good woman, your mother; I guess likely you know it without +me sayin' so. I call Susan Denison the best woman I know, and I've +told my wife so, more times than she says she has any occasion for. +I don't say she's an angel, but she's a good woman, and that's as fur +as we're likely to get in this world. + +"But that ain't what I wanted to say to you, May! Somehow or 'nother, +the story's got round about your findin' that pin yesterday. You +didn't say nothin'?" + +"Not a word!" said Mary. "How could it--" + +"'Twas that pison Hitchcock, I expect!" said Gregory. "I see him +lookin' up with his little eyes, as red as a ferret, and as ugly. I +bet he started the hull thing; and he's tacked on a passel of lies, +and the endurin' place is hummin' with it. Thought I'd tell ye +before ye went in, so's ye could fix up a little what to say." + +Mary thanked him cordially, and passed on into the mill: the old man +looked after her with a very friendly glance in his keen blue eyes. + +"She's good stuff, May is!" he murmured. "Good stuff, like her mother. + +"Folks is like rags, however you look at 'em. Take a good linen rag, +no matter how black it is, and put it through the washers, and the +bleachers, and the cutters, and all the time it's gettin' whiter and +whiter, and sweeter and sweeter, the more you bang it round; till at +last you have bank-note paper, and write to the Queen of England on +it, if you're a mind to, and she won't have none better. And take +jute or shoddy, and the minute you touch to wash it, it cockles up, +or drops to pieces, and it ain't no good to mortal man. Jest like +folks, I tell ye! and May and her mother's pure linen clippin's, if +ever I see 'em." + +Forewarned is forearmed, and Mary met quietly the buzz of inquiry +that greeted her when she entered the rag-room. The girls crowded +round her, the men were not far behind. To each and all Mary told the +simple truth, trying not to say a word too much. "The tongue is a +fire!" her mother's favorite text, was constantly in her mind, and +she was determined that no ill word should be spoken of Mr. Gordon, +if she could help it. Almost every one in the mill liked and +respected the "Old Man;" but the human mind loves a sensation, and +Lena and Hitchcock had told their story so vividly the day before +that Mary's account seemed tame and dull beside it; and some of the +hands preferred to think that "Mame Denison was a sly one, and +warn't goin' to let on, fear some one'd git ahead of her." + +Lena, who came shortly, in her usual dress, fostered this feeling, +not from malice, but from sheer love of excitement and gossip. In +spite of Mary's efforts, the excitement increased, and when, late in +the afternoon, word came that Mary Denison was wanted in the office, +the rag-room was left fairly bubbling with wild surmise. + +Mr. Gordon did not see Mary when she came in. He was standing at his +desk, with an open letter in his hand, and his face was disturbed as +he spoke to the senior clerk. + +"Myers, it is as I feared about that bag of rags from Blankton. You +have kept it carefully tied up, and close by the chlorides, as I +told you?" + +Myers, a clear-eyed, honest-browed man, looked troubled. + +"I did, sir!" he said. "I have looked at the bag every time I passed +that way, and have cautioned every one in the mill not to go near it, +besides keeping the shed-gate locked; but this morning I found that +it had been tampered with, and evidently something taken out. I hope +there is nothing wrong, sir!" + +George Gordon struck his hand heavily on the desk. "Wrong!" he +repeated. "There have been two fatal cases of smallpox in Blankton, +and that bag has been traced to the house where they were." + +There was a moment of deathly silence. He went on: + +"I suspected something wrong, the moment you told me of things that +looked new and good; but I did not want to raise a panic in the mill, +when there might be some other explanation. I thought I had taken +every precaution--what is that?" + +He turned quickly, hearing a low cry behind him. Mary Denison was +standing with clasped hands, her face white with terror. + +"Mary!" said Mr. Gordon, in amazement. "You--surely you have had +nothing to do with this?" + +"No, sir!" cried Mary. "Oh, no, Mr. Gordon, indeed I have not. But I +fear--I fear I know who has. Oh, poor thing! poor Lena!" + +Then, with an impulse she could not explain, she turned suddenly +upon Hitchcock. + +"Who let Lena Laxen into the yard last night?" she cried. "She could +not have got in without help. You had a key--you were talking to her +after I left her yesterday. Oh! look at him, Mr. Gordon! Mr. Myers, +look at that man!" + +But Hitchcock did not seem to hear or heed her. He sat crouched over +his desk, his face a greenish-gray color, his eyes staring, his +hands clutching the woodwork convulsively; an awful figure of terror, +that gasped and cowered before them. Then suddenly, with a cry that +rattled in his throat, he dashed from his seat and ran bareheaded +out of the door. + +Myers started up to pursue him, but Mr. Gordon held up his hand. + +"Let him go!" he said, sternly. "It may be that he carries his +punishment with him. In any case we shall see him no more." + +Quickly and quietly he gave Myers his orders; to take Lena Laxen to +her home, notify the physician, and proclaim a strict quarantine; to +burn the infected rags without loss of time; to have every part of +the shed where the fatal bag had stood thoroughly disinfected. When +the man had hastened away, Mr. Gordon turned to Mary, and his stern +face lightened. + +"Do not distress yourself, Mary," he said, kindly. "It may be that +Lena will escape the infection; it seems that she only had the +garment on a few minutes; and you did all you could, I am sure, to +dissuade her from this piece of fatal and dishonest folly." + +"Oh! I might have said more!" cried Mary, in an agony of +self-reproach. "I meant to go into her house this morning, and try +to make her hear reason; it might not have been too late then." + +"Thank Heaven you did not!" said Mr. Gordon, gravely. "The air of +the house was probably already infected. No one save the doctor must +go near that house till all danger of the disease developing is over." + +He then told Mary briefly why he had sent for her. Finding that he +could not go to Boston himself at present, as he had planned, he had +sent the brooch by express to a jeweller whom he knew, and would be +able to tell her in a few days whether it was of real value or not. +Mary thanked him, but his words fell almost unheeded on her ears. +What were jewels or money, in the face of a danger so awful as that +which now threatened her friend, and, through her, the whole village? + +Days of suspense followed. From the moment when the weeping, +agonized Lena was taken home and put, tenderly, pityingly, in her +mother's hands (it was Mr. Gordon himself who had done this, refusing +to let any other perform the duty), an invisible line was drawn +about the Laxen cottage, which few dared pass. The doctor came and +went, reporting all well to the eager questioners. Mr. Gordon called +daily to inquire, and every evening Mary Denison stole to the door +with a paper or magazine for Lena and her mother, or some home-made +delicacy that might please the imprisoned girl. Lena was usually at +the window, sometimes defiant and blustering, sometimes wild with +fright, sometimes again crying for sheer loneliness and vexation; +but always behind her was her mother's pale face of dread, and her +thin voice saying that Lena was "as well as common, thank ye," and +she and Mary would exchange glances, and Mary would go away drawing +breath, and thanking the Lord that another day was gone. + +So on, for nine anxious days; but on the tenth, when Mary looked up +at the window, the mother stood there alone, crying; and the doctor, +coming out of the house at the moment, told Mary harshly to keep away +from him, and not to come so near the house. + +In the dreadful days that followed, his people learned to know +George Gordon as they had never known him before. The grave, silent +man, who never spoke save when speech was necessary, was now among +them every day, going from room to room with cheerful greetings, +encouraging, heartening, raising the drooping spirits, and rebuking +sharply the croakers, who foretold with dismal unction a general +epidemic. While taking every possible precaution, he made light of +the actual danger, and by his presence and influence warded off the +panic which might have brought about the dreaded result. + +As a matter of fact, there were no more cases in the mill; and Lena +herself had the terrible disease more lightly than any one had dared +to hope. The doctor, hurrying through back ways and alleys to change +his clothes and take his bath of disinfectants, was hailed from back +gates and windows at every step; and he never failed to return a +cheery "Doing well! out of it soon now! No, not much marked, only a +few spots here and there." + +This was when he left the quarantined house; but when he sought it, +he might be seen to stop at one gate and another, picking up here a +jar, there a bowl, here again a paper bag; till by the time he +reached the Laxen gate he stood out all over with packages like a +summer Santa Claus. + +"There ain't anybody goin' to starve round here, if they _have_ got +the smallpox!" was the general verdict, voiced by James Gregory, and +when he added, for the benefit of the mill-yard, that he had heard +Mr. Gordon order ice-cream, oranges, and oysters, all at once, for +Lena, a growl of pleasure went round, which deepened into a hearty +"What's the matter with the Old Man? _he's_ all right!" + +At length, one happy day, Mary Denison met Mr. Gordon at the Laxens' +gate, and heard the good news that Lena was sitting up; that in a +day or two now the quarantine would be taken off, the house +disinfected, and Lena back in her place at the mill. The manager +looked with satisfaction at Mary's beaming face of happiness; then, +as she was turning away to spread the good tidings, he said: + +"Wait a moment, Mary! I have some other news for you. Have you +forgotten the brooch that you found in the Blue Egyptians?" + +The color rushed to Mary's face, and Mr. Gordon had his answer. + +"Because," he added, "I have not forgotten, though you might well +think I had done so. All this sad business has delayed matters, but +now I have it all arranged. I am ready to-day, Mary, to give you +either the brooch itself, or--what I think will be better--five +hundred dollars, the sum I find it to be worth. Yes, my child, I am +speaking the truth! The stones are fine ones, and the Boston +jeweller offers you that sum for them. Well, Mary, have you nothing +to say? What, crying? this will never do!" + +But Mary had nothing to say, and she was crying, because she could +not help it. Presently she managed to murmur something about +"Too much! too great kindness--not fair for her to have it all!" but +Mr. Gordon cut her short. + +"Certainly you are to have it all, every penny of it! Finding's +having! that is paper-mill law; ask James Gregory if it is not! +There comes James this moment; go and tell him of your good fortune, +and let him bring you up to my house this evening to get the money. + +"But, Mary,"--he glanced at a letter in his hand, and his face, +which had been bright with kindness and pleasure, grew very grave,-- +"there is something else for you to tell James, and all the hands. +James Hitchcock died yesterday, of malignant smallpox!" + +[Footnote 1: The main incidents in this story are founded on fact.] + + + + +LITTLE BENJAMIN + + "Then is little Benjamin their ruler." + + +"I THINK the kitty wants to come in," said Mother Golden. "I hear +him crying somewhere. Won't you go and let him in, Adam?" + +Adam laid down his book and went out; the whole family looked up +cheerfully, expecting to see Aladdin, the great Maltese cat, enter +with his stately port. There was a pause; then Adam came back with a +white, scared face, and looked at his father without speaking. + +"What is the matter, my son?" asked Father Golden. + +"Is Kitty hurt?" asked Mother Golden, anxiously. + +"Was it that dog of Jackson's?" cried Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph. + +"The cat isn't there!" said Adam. "It's--it's a basket, father." + +"A basket? What does the boy mean?" + +"A long basket, with something white inside; and--it's crying!" + +The boy had left the door open, and at this moment a sound came +through it, a long, low, plaintive cry. + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden; and she was out of the door in a +flash. + +"See there now!" said Father Golden, reprovingly. "Your mother's +smarter than any of you to-day. Go and help her, some of you!" + +The children tumbled headlong toward the door, but were met by +Mother Golden returning, bearing in her strong arms a long basket, +in which was indeed something white and fluffy that cried. + +[Illustration: "'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; +AND--IT'S CRYING!'"] + +"A baby!" exclaimed Father Golden. + +"A baby!" echoed Mary, Lemuel, Ruth, and Joseph. + +"Well, I knew it was a baby," protested Adam; "but I didn't like to +say so." + +Mother Golden lifted the child out and held it in a certain way; the +cries ceased, and the little creature nestled close against her and +looked up in her face. + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden again. "Come here, girls!" + +The girls pressed forward eagerly; the boys hung back, and glanced +at their father; these were women's matters. + +"It's got hair!" cried Ruth, in rapture. "Mother! real hair, and it +curls; see it curl!" + +"Look at its little hands!" murmured Mary. "They're like pink shells, +only soft. Oh! see it move them, Ruth!" She caught her sister's arm +in a sudden movement of delight. + +"Oh, mother, mayn't we keep it?" cried both girls at once. + +Mother Golden was examining the baby's clothes. + +"Cambric slip, fine enough, but not so terrible fine. Flannel blanket, +machine-embroidered--stop! here's a note." + +She opened a folded paper, and read a few words, written in a +carefully rough hand. + +"His mother is dead, his father a waif. Ask the woman with the kind +eyes to take care of him, for Christ's sake." + +"My heart!" said Mother Golden, again. + +"It's a boy, then!" said Father Golden, brightening perceptibly. He +came forward, the boys edging forward too, encouraged by another +masculine presence. + +"It's a boy, and a beauty!" said Mother Golden, wiping her eyes. +"I never see a prettier child. Poor mother, to have to go and leave +him. Father, what do you say?" + +"It's for you to say, mother;" said Father Golden. "It's to you the +child was sent." + +"Do you suppose 'twas me that was meant? They might have mistaken the +house." + +"Don't talk foolishness!" said Father Golden. "The question is, what +shall we do with it? There's places, a plenty, where foundlings have +the best of bringing up; and you've got care enough, as it is, mother, +without taking on any more." + +"Oh! we could help!" cried Mary. "I could wash and dress it, I know +I could, and I'd just love to." + +"So could I!" said twelve-year-old Ruth. "We'd take turns, Mary and I. +Do let's keep it, mother!" + +"It's a great responsibility!" said Father Golden. + +"Great Jemima!" said Mother Golden, with a sniff. "If I couldn't +take the responsibility of a baby, I'd give up." + +Father Golden's mind moved slowly, and while he was meditating a +reply, his wife issued various commands, and went through some +intricate feminine manoeuvres, with the effect of increased +fluffiness on the baby's part. In five minutes she was feeding the +child with warm milk from a spoon, and proclaiming that he ate +"like a Major!" + +The boys, gaining more and more confidence, were now close at her +knee, and watched the process with eager eyes. + +"He's swallering like anything!" cried Lemuel. "I can see him do it +with his throat, same as anybody." + +"See him grab the spoon!" said Joseph. "My! ain't he strong? Can he +talk, mother?" + +"Joe, you chuckle-head!" said Adam, who was sixteen, and knew most +things. "How can he talk, when he hasn't got any teeth?" + +"Uncle 'Rastus hasn't got any teeth," retorted Joseph, "and he talks +like a buzz-saw." + +"Hush, Joseph!" said Mother Golden, reprovingly. "Your Uncle 'Rastus +is a man of years." + +"Yes, mother!" said Joseph, meekly. + +"Baby _has_ got a tooth, too, Adam!" Mother Golden continued, +triumphantly. "I feel it pricking through the gum this minute. And +he so good, and laughing like a sunflower! Did it hurt him, then, a +little precious man? he shall have a nice ring to-morrow day, to +bitey on, so he shall!" + +"I suppose, then, he must be as much as a week old," hazarded Adam, +in an offhand tone. "They are never born with teeth, are they, +unless they are going to be Richard the Thirds, or something +wonderful?" + +"Perhaps he is!" said Ruth. "He looks wonderful enough for Richard +the Twentieth, or anything." + +But--"A week old!" said Mother Golden. "It's time there was a baby in +this house, if you don't know better than that, Adam. About six +months old I call him, and as pretty a child as ever I saw, even my +own." + +She looked half-defiantly at Father Golden, who returned the look +with one of mild deprecation. + +"I was only thinking of the care 'twould be to you, mother," he said. +"We're bound to make inquiries, and report the case, and so forth; +but if nothing comes of that, we might keep the child for a spell, +and see how things turn out." + +"That's what I was thinking!" said Mother Golden, eagerly. "I was +thinking anyway, Joel, 'twould be best to keep him through his +teething and stomach troubles, and give him a good start in the way +of proper food and nursing. At them homes and nurseries, they mean +well, but the most of them's young, and they _don't_ understand a +child's stomach. It's experience they need, not good-will, I'm well +aware. Of course, when Baby begun to be a boy, things might be +different. You work hard enough as it is, father, and there's places, +no doubt, could do better for him, maybe, than what we could. +But--well, seeing whose name he come in, I _do_ feel to see him +through his teething." + +"Children, what do you say?" asked Father Golden. "You're old enough +to have your opinion, even the youngest of you." + +"Oh, keep him! keep him!" clamored the three younger children. + +Adam and Lemuel exchanged a glance of grave inquiry. + +"I guess he'd better stay, father!" said Adam. + +"I think so, too!" said Lemuel; and both gave something like a sigh +of relief. + +"Then that's settled," said Father Golden, "saying and supposing +that no objection turns up. Next thing is, what shall we call this +child?" + +All eyes were fixed on the baby, who, now full of warm milk, sat +throned on Mother Golden's knee, blinking content. + +It was a pretty picture: the rosy, dimpled creature, the yellow +floss ruffled all over his head, his absurd little mouth open in a +beaming smile; beaming above him, Mother Golden's placid face in its +frame of silver hair; fronting them, Father Golden in his big +leather chair, solid, comfortable, benevolent; and the five children, +their honest, sober faces lighted up with unusual excitement. A +pleasant, homelike picture. Nothing remarkable in the way of setting; +the room, with its stuffed chairs, its tidies, and cabinet organ, was +only unlike other such rooms from the fact that Mother Golden +habitually sat in it; she could keep even haircloth from being +commonplace. But now, all the light in the room seemed to centre on +the yellow flossy curls against her breast. + +"A-goo!" said the baby, in a winning gurgle. + +"He says his name's Goo!" announced Joseph. + +"Don't be a chuckle-head, Joe!" said Adam. "What was the name on the +paper, mother?" + +"It said 'his father is a Waif;' but I don't take that to be a +Christian name. Surname, more likely, shouldn't you say, father?" + +"Not a Christian name, certainly," said Father Golden. "Not much of +a name anyhow, 'pears to me. We'd better give the child a suitable +name, mother, saying and supposing no objection turns up. Coming +into a Christian family, let him have Christian baptism, I say." + +"Oh, call him Arthur!" + +"Bill!" + +"Richard!" + +"Charlie!" + +"Reginald!" cried the children in chorus. + +"I do love a Bible name!" said Mother Golden, pensively. "It gives a +child a good start, so to say, and makes him think when he hears +himself named, or ought so to do. All our own children has Bible +names, father; don't let us cut the little stranger off from his +privilege." + +"But Bible names are so ugly!" objected Lemuel, who was sensitive, +and suffered under his own cognomen. + +"Son," said Father Golden, "your mother chooses the names in this +family." + +"Yes, father!" said Lemuel. + +"Lemuel, dear, you was named for a king!" said Mother Golden. +"He was a good boy to his mother, and so are you. Bring the Bible, +and let us see what it opens at. Joseph, you are the youngest, you +shall open it." + +Joseph opened the great brown leather Bible, and closing his eyes, +laid his hand on the page; then looking down, he read: + +"'There is little Benjamin their ruler, and the princes of Judah +their council: the princes of Zebulun and the princes of Nephtali.'" + +"Zebulun and Nephtali are outlandish-sounding names," said Mother +Golden. + +"I never knew but one Nephtali, and he squinted. Benjamin shall be +this child's name. Little Benjamin: the Lord bless and keep him!" + +"Amen!" said Father Golden. + + + +_PART II_. + +"Father, may I come in, if you are not busy?" + +It was Mary who spoke; Mary, the dear eldest daughter, now a woman +grown, grave and mild, trying hard to fill the place left empty +these two years, since Mother Golden went smiling out of life. + +Father Golden looked up from his book; he was an old man now, but +his eyes were still young and kind. + +"What is it, daughter Mary?" + +"The same old story, father dear; Benny in mischief again. This time +he has rubbed soot on all the door-handles, and the whole house is +black with it. I hate to trouble you, father, but I expect you'll +have to speak to him. I do love the child so, I'm not strict +enough--I'm ashamed to say it, but they all think so, and I know +it's true--and Adam is too strict." + +"Yes, Adam is too strict," said Father Golden. He looked at a +portrait that stood on his desk, a framed photograph of Mother Golden. + +"I'll speak to the child, Mary," he said. "I'll see that this does +not happen again. What is it, Ruthie?" + +"I was looking for Mary, father. I wanted--oh, Mary! what shall I do +with Benny? he has tied Rover and the cat together by their tails, +and they are rushing all about the garden almost crazy. I must +finish this work, so I can't attend to it. He says he is playing +Samson. I wish you would speak to him, father." + +"I will do so, Ruth, I will do so. Don't be distressed, my daughter." + +"But he is so naughty, father! he is so different from the other boys. +Joe never used to play such tricks when he was little." + +"The spring vacation will be over soon now, Ruth," said Sister Mary. +"He is always better when he is at work, and there is so little for +a boy to do just at this time of year." + +"I left Joe trying to catch the poor creatures," said Ruth. +"Here he comes now." + +Joe, a tall lad of seventeen, entered with a face of tragedy. + +"Any harm done, Joseph?" asked Father Golden, glancing at the +portrait on his desk. + +"It's that kid again, father!" said Joe. "Poor old Rover--" + +"Father knows about that, Joe!" said Mary, gently. + +"Did you get them apart?" cried Ruth. + +"Yes, I did, but not till they had smashed most of the glass in the +kitchen windows, and trampled all over Mary's geraniums. Something +has got to be done about that youngster, father. He's getting to be +a perfect nuisance." + +"I am thinking of doing something about him, son Joseph," said Father +Golden. "Are your brothers in the house?" + +"I think I heard them come in just now, sir. Do you want to see them?" + +Apparently Adam and Lemuel wanted to see their father, for they +appeared in the doorway at this moment: quiet-looking men, with grave, +"set" faces; the hair already beginning to edge away from their +temples. + +"You are back early from the office, boys!" said Father Golden. + +"We came as soon as we got the message," said Adam. "I hope nothing +is wrong, father." + +"What message, Adam?" + +"Didn't you send for us? Benny came running in, all out of breath, +and said you wished to see us at once. If he has been playing tricks +again--" + +Adam's grave face darkened into sternness. The trick was too evident. + +"Something must be done about that boy, father!" he said. "He is the +torment of the whole family." + +"No one can live a day in peace!" said Lemuel. + +"No dumb creature's life is safe!" said Joe. + +"He breaks everything he lays hands on," said Ruth, "and he won't +keep his hands off anything." + +"You were all little once, boys!" said Mary. + +"We never behaved in this kind of way!" said the brothers, sedate +from their cradles. "Something must be done!" + +"You are right," said Father Golden. "Something must be done." + +Glancing once more at the portrait of Mother Golden, he turned and +faced his children with grave looks. + +"Sit down, sons and daughters!" said the old man. "I have something +to say to you." + +The young people obeyed, wondering, but not questioning. Father +Golden was head of the house. + +"You all come to me," said Father Golden, "with complaints of little +Benjamin. It is singular that you should come to-day, for I have +been waiting for this day to speak to you about the child myself." + +He paused for a moment; then added, weighing his words slowly, as +was his wont when much in earnest, "Ten years ago to-day, that child +was left on our door-step." + +The brothers and sisters uttered an exclamation, half surprised, +half acquiescent. + +"It doesn't seem so long!" said Adam. + +"It seems longer!" said Mary. + +"I keep forgetting he came that way!" murmured Joe. + +"I felt doubtful about taking him in," Father Golden went on. +"But your mother wished it; you all wished it. We decided to keep +him for a spell, and give him a good start in life, and we have kept +him till now." + +"Of course we have kept him!" said Ruth. + +"Naturally!" said Lemuel. + +Adam and Mary said nothing, but looked earnestly at their father. + +"Little Benjamin is now ten years old, more or less," said Father +Golden. "You are men and women grown; even Joseph is seventeen. Your +mother has entered into the rest that is reserved for the people of +God, and I am looking forward in the hope that, not through any +merit of mine, but the merciful grace of God, I may soon be called +to join her. Adam and Lemuel, you are settled in the business, and +looking forward to making homes of your own with worthy young women. +Joseph is going to college, which is a new thing in our family, but +one I approve, seeing his faculty appears to lie that way. Ruth will +make a first-rate dressmaker, I am told by those who know. Mary--" + +His quiet voice faltered. Mary took his hand and kissed it +passionately; a sob broke from her, and she turned her face away +from the brothers and sister who loved but did not understand her. +They looked at her with grave compassion, but no one would have +thought of interrupting Father Golden. + +"Mary, you are the home-maker," the old man went on. "I hope that +when I am gone this home will still be here, with you at the head of +it. You are your mother's own daughter; there is no more to say." He +was silent for a time, and then continued. + +"There remains little Benjamin, a child of ten years. He is no kin +to us; an orphan, or as good as one; no person has ever claimed him, +or ever will. The time has come to decide what shall be done with +the child." + +Again he paused, and looked around. The serious young faces were all +intent upon him; in some, the intentness seemed deepening into +trouble, but no one spoke or moved. + +"We have done all that we undertook to do for him, that night we +took him in, and more. We have brought him--I should say your mother +brought him--through his sickly days; we 'most lost him, you remember, +when he was two years old, with the croup--and he is now a healthy, +hearty child, and will likely make a strong man. He has been well +treated, well fed and clothed, maybe better than he would have been +by his own parents if so't had been. He is turning out wild and +mischievous, though he has a good heart, none better; and you all, +except Mary, come to me with complaints of him. + +"Now, this thing has gone far enough. One of two things: either this +boy is to be sent away to some institution, to take his place among +other orphans and foundlings, or--he must be one of you for now and +always, to share alike with you while I live, to be bore with and +helped by each and every one of you as if he was your own blood, and +to have his share of the property when I am gone. Sons and daughters, +this question is for you to decide. I shall say nothing. My life is +'most over, yours is just beginning. I have no great amount to leave +you, but 'twill be comfortable so far as it goes. Benjamin has +one-sixth of that, and becomes my own son, to be received and +treated by you as your own brother, or he goes." + +Mary hid her face in her hands. Adam walked to the window and looked +out; but the other three broke out into a sudden, hurried clamor, +strangely at variance with their usual staid demeanor. + +"Oh, father, we couldn't let him go!" + +"Why, father, I can't think what you mean!" + +"I'm sure, sir, we never thought of such a thing as sending him away. +Why, he's our Ben." + +"Good enough little kid, only mischievous." + +"Needs a little governing, that's all. Mary spoils him; no harm in +him, not a mite." + +"And the lovingest little soul! the minute he found that Kitty's paw +was cut, he sat down and cried--" + +"I guess if Benny went, I'd go after him pretty quick!" said Joseph, +who had been loudest in his complaint against the child. + +Mary looked up and smiled through her tears. "Joe, your heart is in +the right place!" she said. "I finished your shirts this morning, +dear; I'm going to begin on your slippers to-night." + +"Well, but, father--" + +"Father dear, about little Benny--" + +"Yes, sir--poor little Ben!" + +"Go easy!" said Father Golden; and his face, as he looked from one +to the other, was as bright as his name. + +"Why, children, you're real excited. I don't want excitement, nor +crying--Mary, daughter, I knew how you would feel, anyway. I want a +serious word, 'go,' or 'stay,' from each one of you; a word that +will last your lives long. I'll begin with the youngest, because +that was your mother's way. She always said the youngest was nearest +heaven. Joseph, what is your word about little Benjamin?" + +"Stay, of course!" cried Joe. "Benny does tease me, but I should be +nowhere without him." + +"Ruth! you seemed greatly tried just now. Think what you are going +to say." + +"Oh, of course he must stay, father. Why, the child is the life of +the house. We are all so humdrum and mopy, I don't know what we +should do without Benny to keep us moving." + +"Mary, daughter--not that I need your answer, my dear." + +"He is the only child I shall ever have!" said Mary, simply. + +There was silence for a moment, and all thought of the grave where +her young heart had laid its treasure. + +"Lemuel!" + +"I've been hard on the child, Father!" said Lemuel. "He's so +different from the rest of us, and he does try me. But mother loved +him, and down at the bottom we all do, I guess. I say 'stay,' too, +and I'll try to be more of a brother to him from now on." + +"Son Adam, I have left you the longest time to reflect," said Father +Golden. "You are the oldest, and when I am gone it will be on you +and Mary that the heft of the care will come. Take all the time you +want, and then give us your word!" + +Adam turned round; his face was very grave, but he spoke cheerfully. + +"I have had time enough, Father," he said. "I was the first that +heard that little voice, ten years ago, and the first, except mother, +that saw the child; 'twould be strange if I were the one to send him +away. He came in Christ's name, and in that name I bid him stay." + +"Amen!" said Father Golden. + +A silence followed; but it was broken soon by a lively whistle, +shrilling out a rollicking tune; the next moment a boy came running +into the room. Curly, rosy, dirty, ragged, laughing, panting, little +Benjamin stood still and looked round on all the earnest, serious +faces. + +"What's the matter, all you folks?" he asked. "I should think you +was all in meeting, and sermon just beginning. Ruth, I tied up +Kitty's leg all right; and I'll dig greens to pay for the glass, Joe. +Say, Bro'rer-Adam-an'-Lem (Benny pronounced this as if it were one +word), did you forget it was April Fool's Day? Didn't I fool you good? +And--say! there's a fierce breeze and my new kite's a buster. Who'll +come out and fly her with me?" + +"I will, Benny!" said Adam, Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph. + + + + +DON ALONZO + + +"Don Alonzo! Don Alonzo Pitkin! Where be you?" + +There was no answer. + +"Don Alonzo! Deacon Bassett's here, and wishful to see you. Don +Alonzo Pit-_kin_!" + +Mrs. Joe Pitkin stood at the door a moment, waiting; then she shook +her shoulders with a despairing gesture, and went back into the +sitting-room. "I don't know where he is, Deacon Bassett," she said. +"There! I'm sorry; but he's so bashful, Don Alonzo is, he'll creep +off and hide anywheres sooner than see folks. I do feel mortified, +but I can't seem to help it, no way in the world." + +"No need to, Mis' Pitkin," said Deacon Bassett, rising slowly and +reaching for his hat. "No need to. I should have been pleased to see +Don 'Lonzo, and ask if he got benefit from those pills I left for him +last time I called; what he wants is to doctor reg'lar, and keep +straight on doctorin'. But I can call again; and I felt it a duty to +let you know what's goin' on at your own yard-gate, I may say. Mis' +Pegrum's house ain't but a stone's throw from yourn, is it? Well, +I'll be wishing you good day, and I hope Joseph will be home before +there's any trouble. I don't suppose you've noticed whether Don +Alonzo has growed any, sence he took those pills?" + +"No, I haven't!" said Mrs. Pitkin, shortly. "Good day, Deacon Bassett." + +"Yes, you can call again," she added, mentally, as she watched the +deacon making his way slowly down the garden walk, stopping the +while to inspect every plant that looked promising. "You can call +again, but you will not see him, if you come every day. It does beat +all, the way folks can't let that boy alone. Talk about his being +cranky! I'd be ten times as cranky as he is, if I was pestered by +every old podogger that's got stuff to sell." + +She closed the door, and addressed the house, apparently empty and +still. "He's gone!" she said, speaking rather loudly, "Don 'Lonzo, +he's gone, and you can come out. I expect you're hid somewheres +about here, for I didn't hear you go out." + +There was no sound. She opened the door of the ground-floor bedroom +and looked in. All was tidy and pleasant as usual. Every mat lay in +its place; the chairs were set against the wall as she loved to see +them; the rows of books, the shelves of chemicals, at which she +hardly dared to look, and which she never dared to touch for fear +something would "go off" and kill her instantly, the specimens in +their tall glass jars, the case of butterflies, all were in their +place; but there was no sign of life in the room, save the canary in +the window. + +"Deacon Bassett's gone!" she said, speaking to the canary. + +There was a scuffling sound from under the bed; the valance was +lifted, and a head emerged cautiously. + +"I tell you he's gone!" repeated Mira Pitkin, rather impatiently. +"Come out, Don Alonzo! There! you are foolish, I must say!" + +The head came out, followed by a figure. The figure was that of a +boy of twelve, but the head belonged to a youth of seventeen. The +rounded shoulders, the sharp features, the dark, sunken eyes, all +told a tale of suffering; Don Alonzo Pitkin was a hunchback. + +His pretty, silly mother had given him the foolish name which seemed +a perpetual mockery of his feeble person. She had found it in an old +romance, and had only wavered between it and Señor Gonzalez,--which +she pronounced Seener Gon-zallies,--the other dark-eyed hero of the +book. Perhaps she pictured to herself her baby growing up into such +another lofty, black-plumed hidalgo as those whose magnificent +language and mustachios had so deeply impressed her. It was true +that she herself had pinkish eyes and white eyelashes, while her +husband was familiarly known as "Carrots,"--but what of that? + +But he had a fall, this poor baby,--a cruel fall, from the +consequences of which no high-sounding name could save him; and then +presently the little mother died, and the father married again. + +The boy's childhood had been a sad one, and all the happiness he had +known had been lately, since his elder brother married. Big, +good-natured Joe Pitkin, marrying the prettiest girl in the village, +had been sore at heart, even in his new-wedded happiness, at the +thought of leaving the deformed, sensitive boy alone with the +careless father and the shrewish stepmother. But his young wife had +been the first to say: + +"Let Don Alonzo come and live with us, Joe! Where there is room for +two, there is room for three, and that boy wants to be made of!" + +So the strong, cheerful, wholesome young woman took the sickly lad +into her house and heart, and "made of him," to use her own quaint +phrase; and she became mother and sister and sweetheart, all in one, +to Don Alonzo. + +Now she stood looking at him, shaking her head, yet smiling. +"Don 'Lonzo, how can you behave so?" she asked. "This is the third +time Deacon Bassett has been here to see you, and he's coming again; +and what be I to say to him next time he comes? You can't go through +life without seeing folks, you know." + +Don Alonzo shook his shoulders, and pretended to look for dust on +his coat. He would have been deeply mortified to find any, for he +took care of his own room, and prided himself, with reason, on its +neatness. Also, the space beneath his bedstead was cupboard as well +as hiding-place. + +"He troubles me," he said, meekly. "Deacon Bassett troubles me more +than any of 'em. Did he ask if I'd grown any?" + +"Well, he did," Mira admitted. "But I expect he didn't mean anything +by it." + +"He's asked that ever since I can remember," said Don Alonzo; +"and I'm weary of it. There! And then he says that if I would only +take his Green Elixir three times a day for three months, I'd grow +like a sapling willow. He hopes to make his living out of me, yet!" + +Mrs. Pitkin laughed, comfortably, and smoothed the lad's hair back +with a motherly touch. "All the same," she said, "you must quit +hiding under the bed when folks come to call, Don 'Lonzo. You don't +want 'em to think I treat you bad, and keep you out o' sight, so's +they'll not find it out." Then, seeing the boy's face flush with +distress, she added, hastily, "Besides, you're getting to be 'most a +man now; I want strangers should know there's men-folks about the +place, now Joe's away. There's burglars in town, Don 'Lonzo, and we +must look out and keep things shut up close, nights." + +"Burglars!" repeated the youth. + +"Yes; Deacon Bassett was telling me about 'em just now. I guess +likely half what he came for was to give me a good scare, knowing +Joe was away. Now, ain't I uncharitable! 'Twas just as likely to be +a friendly warning. Anyway, he was telling me they came through from +Tupham Corner day before yesterday, and they've been lurking and +spying round." + +"Some boys saw them, coming through Green Gully, and were scared to +death at their looks; they said they were big, black-looking men, +strangers to these parts; and they swore at the boys and ordered 'em +off real ugly. Nobody else has seen them in honest daylight, but +they broke into Dan'l Brown's house last night. He's deaf, you know, +and didn't hear a sound. They came right into the room where he slept, +--Deacon Bassett was there the next day, and saw their tracks all +over the floor,--and took ten dollars out of his pants pocket. The +pants was hanging right beside the bed, and they turned them clean +inside out, and Dan'l never stirred." + +"My, oh!" exclaimed Don Alonzo. + +"Why, it's terrible!" Mira went on. "Then, last night, they got into +Mis' Pegrum's house, too. She's a lone woman, you know, same as +Dan'l is a man. Seems as if they had took note of every house where +there wasn't plenty of folks to be stirring and taking notice. They +got into the pantry window, and took every living thing she had to +eat. They might do that, and still go hungry, Deacon Bassett says; +you know there's always been a little feeling between him and Mis' +Pegrum; her cat and his hens--it's an old story. Well, and she did +hear a noise, and came out into the kitchen, and there sat two great, +black men, eating her best peach preserves, and the cake she'd made +for the Ladies' Aid, to-day. She was so scare't, she couldn't speak +a word; and they just laughed and told her to go back to bed, and +she went. Poor-spirited, it seems, but I don't know as I should have +done a bit better in her place. There! I wish Joe'd come back! I +feel real nervous, hearing about it all. Oh, and her gold watch, too, +they got, and three solid silver teaspoons that belonged to her +mother. She's sick abed, Deacon Bassett says, and I don't wonder. I +don't feel as if I should sleep a wink to-night!" + +The color came into Don Alonzo's thin cheeks. "There sha'n't no one +do you any hurt while I'm round, Mira!" he said; and for a moment he +forgot his deformity, and straightened his poor shoulders, and held +up his head like a man. + +There was no shade of amusement in Mira Pitkin's honest smile. +"I expect you'd be as brave as a lion, Don 'Lonzo," she said. +"I expect you'd shoo 'em right out of the yard, same as you did the +turkey gobbler when he run at my red shawl; don't you remember? But +all the same, I hope they will not come; and I shall be glad to see +Joe back again." + +At that moment the lad caught sight of himself in the little +looking-glass that hung over his chest of drawers. Mira, watching him, +saw the sparkle go out of his eyes, saw his shoulders droop, and his +head sink forward; and she said, quickly: + +"But there! we've said enough about the burglars, I should think! +How's the experiments, Don 'Lonzo? I heard an awful fizzing going on, +just before Deacon Bassett came in. I expect you've got great things +hidden under that bed; I expect there's other perils round besides +burglars! Joe may come back and find us both blown into kindlin'-wood, +after all!" + +This was a favorite joke of theirs; she had the pleasure of seeing a +smile come into the boy's sad eyes; then, with another of those +motherly touches on his hair, she went away, singing, to her work. + +Don Alonzo looked after her. From the way his eyes followed her, she +might have been a glorified saint in robe and crown, instead of a +rosy-cheeked young woman in a calico gown. "There sha'n't nothing +hurt her while I'm round!" he muttered again. + +The night fell, dark and cloudy. Mrs. Pitkin went to bed early, +after shaking every door and trying every window to make sure that +all was safe. Don Alonzo went through the same process twice after +she was gone, but he did not feel like sleeping, himself. He lay +down on his bed, but his thoughts seemed dancing from one thing to +another,--to Brother Joe, travelling homeward now, he hoped, after a +week's absence; to Mira's goodness, her patience with his wayward +self, her kindness in letting him mess with chemicals, and turn the +shed into a laboratory, and frighten her with explosions; to Dan'l +Brown and Mis' Pegrum and the burglars. + +Ah, the burglars! What could he do, if they should really come to +the house? They were two men, probably well-grown; he--he knew what +he was! How could he carry out his promise to Mira, if she should be +in actual danger? Not by strength, clearly; but there must be some +way; bodily strength was not the only thing in the world. He looked +about him, seeking for inspiration; his eyes, wandering here and +there, lighted upon something, then remained fixed. The room was +dimly lighted by a small lamp, but the corners were dark, and in one +of these dark corners something was shining with a faint, uncertain +light. The phosphorescent match-box! He had made it himself, and had +ornamented it with a grotesque face in luminous paint. This face now +glimmered and glowered at him from the darkness; and Don Alonzo lay +still and looked back at it. Lying so and looking, there crept into +his mind an old story that he had once read; and he laughed to +himself, and then nodded at the glimmering face. "Thank you, old +fellow!" said Don Alonzo. + +Was there a noise? Was it his imagination, or did a branch snap, a +twig rustle down the road? The hunchback had ears like a fox, and in +an instant he was at the window, peering out into the darkness. At +first he could see nothing; but gradually the lilac bushes at the +gate came into sight, and the clumps of flowers in the little garden +plot. Not a breath was stirring, yet--hark! Again a twig snapped, a +branch crackled; and now again! and nearer each time. Don Alonzo +strained his eyes to pierce the darkness. Were those bushes, those +two shapes by the gate? They were not there a moment ago. Ha! they +moved; they were coming nearer. Their feet made no sound on the +soft earth, but his sharp ears caught a new sound,--a whisper, faint, +yet harsh, like a hiss. Don Alonzo had seen and heard enough. He +left the window, and the next moment was diving under the bed. + + * * * * * + +Mira Pitkin usually slept like a child, from the moment her head +touched the pillow till the precise second when something woke in +her brain and said "Five o'clock!" But to-night her sleep was broken. +She tossed and muttered in her dreams; and suddenly she sat up in bed +with eyes wide open and a distinct sense of something wrong. Her +first thought was of fire; she sniffed; the air was pure and clear. +Then, like a cry in her ears, came--"The burglars!" She held her +breath and listened; was the night as still as it was dark? No! a +faint, steady sound came to her ears. A mouse, was it, or--the sound +of a tool? + +And then, almost noiselessly, a window was opened, the window of the +upper entry, next her room. Mira was at her own window in an instant, +raising it; that, too, opened silently, for Joe was a carpenter and +detested noisy windows. She peered out into the thick darkness. Black, +black! Was the blackness deeper there, just at the front door? +Surely it was! Surely something, somebody, was busy with the lock of +the door; and then she heard, as Don Alonzo had heard, a low sound +like a hiss, beside the soft scraping of the tool. What should she do? +The windows were fast, there was a bar and chain inside the door, +but what of that? Two desperate men could force an entrance anywhere +in a moment. What could she do, a woman, with only a sickly boy to +help her? And--who had opened that upper window? Was there a third +accomplice--for she thought she could see two spots of deeper +blackness by the door--hidden in the house? Oh, if only Joe had +borrowed his father's old pistol for her, as she had begged him to do! + +Mira opened her lips to shout, in the hope of rousing the nearest +neighbors, though they were not very near. Opened her lips--but no +sound came from them. For at that instant something appeared at the +window next her own; something stepped from it, out on to the little +porch over the front door. Mira Pitkin gasped, and felt her heart +fail within her. A skeleton! Every limb outlined in pale fire, the +bony fingers points of wavering flame. What awful portent was this? +The Thing paused and turned, a frightful face gazed at her for an +instant, a hand waved, then the Thing dropped, silent as a shadow, on +that spot of deeper blackness that was stooping at the front door. + +Then rose an outcry wild and hideous. The burglar shouted hoarsely, +and tried to shake off the Thing that sat on his shoulders, gripping +his neck with hands of iron, digging his sides with bony knees and +feet; but the second thief, who saw by what his comrade was ridden, +shrieked in pure animal terror, uttering unearthly sounds that cut +the air like a knife. For a moment he could only stand and shriek; +then he turned and fled through the yard, and the other fled after +him, the glimmering phantom clutching him tight. Down the road they +fled. Mira could now see nothing save the riding Thing, apparently +horsed on empty air; but now she saw it, still clutching close with +its left hand, raise the right, holding what looked like a shining +snake, and bring it down hissing and curling. Again, and again! and +with every blow the shrieks grew more and more hideous, till now +they had reached the cluster of houses at the head of the street, +and every window was flung open, and lights appeared, and voices +clamored in terror and amaze. The village was roused; and now--now, +the glimmering skeleton was seen to loose its hold. It dropped from +its perch, and turning that awful face toward her once more, came +loping back, silent as a shadow. But when she saw that, Mira Pitkin, +for the first and last time in her sensible life, fainted away. + +When she came to herself, the skeleton was bending over her anxiously, +but its face was no longer frightful; it was white and anxious, and +the eyes that met hers were piteous with distress. + +"My, oh!" cried Don Alonzo. "I vowed no one should do her any hurt, +and now I've done it myself." + +There was little sleep in the Pitkin house that night. The neighbors +came flocking in with cries and questions; and when all was explained, +Don Alonzo found himself the hero of the hour. For once he did not +hide under the bed, but received everybody--from Deacon Bassett down +to the smallest boy who came running in shirt and trousers, +half-awake, and athirst for marvels--with modest pride, and told +over and over again how it all happened. + +'Twas no great thing, he maintained. He had fooled considerable with +phosphorus, and had some of the luminous paint that he had mixed +some time before. Thinking about these fellows, he remembered a +story he read once, where they painted up a dead body to scare away +some murdering robbers. He thought a living person was as good as a +dead one, any day; so he tried it on, and it appeared to succeed. He +didn't think likely those men would stop short of the next township, +from the way they were running when he got down. Oh, the snake? That +was Joe's whip. He presumed likely it hurt some, from the way they +yelled. + +But the best of all was when Joe came home, the very next day, and +when, the three of them sitting about the supper-table, Mira herself +told the great story, from the first moment of Deacon Bassett's +visit down to the triumphant close--"And I see him coming back, +shining like a corpse-candle, and I fell like dead on the floor!" + +"There!" she continued, beaming across the table at Joe, as she +handed him his fourth cup of coffee, "you may go away again whenever +you're a mind to; I sha'n't be afraid. You ain't half the man Don +'Lonzo is!" + +"I don't expect I be!" said big Joe, beaming back again. + +It seemed to Don Alonzo that their smiles made the kitchen warm as +June, though October was falling cold that year. + + + + +_THE SHED CHAMBER_ + + +"Well, I once answered an advertisement in the _Farmer's Friend_, +girls, and I have always been glad I did. It was that summer when +father broke his arm and the potato crop failed, and everything +seemed to be going wrong on the farm. There were plenty of girls to +do the work at home, and I thought I ought to get something outside +to do if I could. I tried here and there, but without success; at +last my eye caught a notice in the _Farmer's Friend_, just the same +kind of notice as that you are speaking of, Lottie: 'Wanted, a +capable, steady girl to assist in housework and take care of children. +Address, with reference, A. B. C., Dashville.' I talked it over with +mother, and she agreed with me; father didn't take so kindly to the +idea, naturally; he likes to have us all at home, especially in +summer. However, he said I might do as I pleased; so I answered the +notice and sent a letter from our pastor, saying what he thought of +me. I was almost ashamed to send it, too; he has always been more +than kind to me, you know; if I'd been his own daughter he couldn't +have said more. Well, they wrote for me to come, and I went. + +"Girls, it was pretty hard when it came to that part, leaving the +house, and mother standing in the doorway trying not to look anxious, +and father fretting and saying it was all nonsense, and he shouldn't +have hands enough to pick the apples. Of course he knew I knew better, +but I was glad he didn't want me to go, after all. Sister Nell and +Sister Margie had packed my trunk, and they were as excited as I was, +and almost wished they were going instead, but not quite, I think; +and so Joe whistled to old Senator, and I waved my handkerchief, and +mother and the two girls waved their aprons, and off I went. + +"I didn't really feel alone till I was in the train and had lost +sight of Joe standing and smoothing Senator's mane and nodding at me; +then the world seemed very big and Tupham Corner a very small corner +in it. I will not say anything more about this part; you'll find it +out soon enough yourselves, when you go away from home the first time. + +"It was a long journey, or it seemed so then; but everything comes +to an end some time, and there was plenty of daylight left for me to +see my new home when I arrived. It was a pleasant-looking house, +long and rambling, painted yellow, too, which made me more homesick +than ever. There were two children standing in the doorway, and +presently Mr. Bowles came out and shook hands with me and helped me +down with my things. He was a kind, sensible-looking man, and he +made the children come and speak to me and shake hands. They were +shy then and hung back, and put their fingers in their mouths; I +knew just how they felt. I wanted to hang back, too, when he took me +into the house to see Mrs. Bowles. She was an invalid, he told me, +and could not leave her room. + +"Girls, the minute I saw that sweet, pale face, with the look of +pain and patience in it, I knew what I had come for. I do think we +understood each other from the first minute, Mrs. Bowles and I; for +she held my hand a good while, looking into my face and I into hers, +and she must have seen how sorry I was for her, and how I hoped I +could help her; for when I went into the kitchen I heard her say, +with a little sigh, as she lay back again, 'O John, I do believe +this is the right one at last!' You may believe I made up my mind +that I would be the right one, Lottie! + +"That kitchen was in a scandalous condition. It was well I had seen +Mrs. Bowles first or I should have wanted to run away that very +minute. The eldest little girl--it seems strange to think that there +ever was a time when I didn't know Barbara's name!--followed me out, +--I think her father told her to,--and rubbed along against the wall, +just exactly as I used to when I felt shy. When I asked her a little +about where things were, and so on--they were everywhere and nowhere; +you never saw such a looking place in your life!--she took her +finger out of her mouth, and pretty soon I told her about our yellow +coon kittens, and after that we got on very well. She said they had +had one girl after another, each worse than the last. The shoe +factory had taken off all the good help and left only the incapable +ones. The last one, Barbara said, had almost starved them, and been +saucy to Mrs. Bowles, and dirty--well, there was no need to tell me +that. It was a shame to see good things so destroyed; for the things +were good, only all dirty and broken, and--oh, well! there's no use +in telling about that part. + +"I asked when her mother had had anything to eat, and she said not +since noon; I knew that was no way for an invalid to be taken care of, +so I put the kettle on and hunted about till I found a cup and saucer +I liked, and then I found the bread-box--oh, dear! that bread-box, +girls! But the mold scraped right off, and the bread wasn't really +bad; I made some toast and cut the crust off, and put just a thin +scrape of butter on it; then I sent Barbara in with a little tray +and told her to see that her mother took it all. I thought she'd +feel more like taking it from the child than from a stranger, if she +hadn't much appetite. My dears, the child came out again in a few +minutes, her face all alight. + +"'She drank it all, every drop!' she cried. 'And now she's eating +the toast. She said how did you know, and she cried, but now she's +all right. Father 'most cried, too, I think. Say!' + +"'Yes, dear.' + +"'Father says the Lord sent you. Did he?'" + +[Illustration: "'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'"] + +"I nodded, for I couldn't say anything that minute. I kissed the +little girl and went on with my cleaning. Girls, don't ever grudge +the time you spend in learning to cook nicely. Food is what keeps the +breath of life in us, and it all depends upon us girls now, and later, +when we are older women, whether it is good or bad. No, Sue, I'm not +going to preach, but I shall never forget how that tired man and +those hungry children enjoyed their supper. 'Twas mother's supper, +every bit of it, from the light biscuit down to the ham omelette; I +found the ham bone in a dark cupboard, all covered with mold, like +the bread, but 'twas good and sweet underneath. I only wish mother +had been there to see them eat. After supper Mr. Bowles came and +shook hands with me. I didn't know then that he never used any more +words than he had to; but I was pleased, if I did think it funny. + +"I was tired enough by the time bedtime came, and after I had put +the children to bed and seen that Mrs. Bowles was comfortable, and +had water and crackers and a candle beside her--she was a very poor +sleeper--I was glad enough to go to bed myself. Barbara showed me my +room, a pretty little room with sloping gables and windows down by +the floor. There were two doors, and I asked her where the other led +to. She opened it and said, 'The shed chamber.' I looked over her +shoulder, holding up the candle, and saw a great bare room, with +some large trunks in it, but no other furniture except a high +wardrobe. I liked the look of the place, for it was a little like +our play room in the attic at home; but I was too tired to explore, +and I was asleep in ten minutes from the time I had tucked up +Barbara in her bed, and Rob and Billy in their double crib. + +"I should take a week if I tried to tell you all about those first +days; and, after all, it is one particular thing that I started to +tell, only there is so much that comes back to me. In a few days I +felt that I belonged there, almost as much as at home; they were +that kind of people, and made me feel that they cared about me, and +not only about what I did. Mrs. Bowles has always been the best +friend I have in the world after my own folks; it didn't take us a +day to see into each other, and by and by it got to be so that I +knew what she wanted almost before she knew, herself. + +"At the end of the week Mr. Bowles said he ought to go away on +business for a few days, and asked her if she would feel safe to +stay with me and the children, or if he should ask his brother to +come and sleep in the house. + +"'No, indeed!' said Mrs. Bowles. 'I shall feel as safe with Nora as +if I had a regiment in the house; a good deal safer!' she added, and +laughed. + +"So it was settled, and the next day Mr. Bowles went away and I was +left in full charge. I suppose I rather liked the responsibility. I +asked Mrs. Bowles if I might go all over the house to see how +everything fastened, and she said, 'Of course.' The front windows +were just common windows, quite high up from the floor; but in the +shed chamber, as in my room, they opened near the floor, and there +was no very secure way of fastening them, it seemed to me. However, I +wasn't going to say anything to make her nervous, and that was the +way they had always had them. If I had only known! + +"After the children went to bed that evening I read to Mrs. Bowles +for an hour, and then I went to warm up a little cocoa for her; she +slept better if she took a drop of something hot the last thing. It +was about nine o'clock. I had just got into the kitchen, and was +going to light the lamp, when I heard the door open softly. + +"'Who's there?' I asked. + +"'Only me,' said a girl's voice. + +"I lighted my lamp, and saw a girl about my own age, pretty, and +showily dressed. She said she was the girl who had left the house a +few days ago; she had forgotten something, and might she go up into +the shed chamber and get it? I told her to wait a minute, and went +and asked Mrs. Bowles. She said yes, Annie might go up. 'Annie was +careless and saucy,' she said, 'but I think she meant no harm. She +can go and get her things.' + +"I came back and told the girl, and she smiled and nodded. I did not +like her smile, I could not tell why. I started to go with her, but +she turned on me pretty sharply, and said she had been in the house +three months and didn't need to be shown the way by a stranger. I +didn't want to put myself forward, but no sooner had she run +up-stairs, and I heard her steps in the chamber above me, than +something seemed to be pushing, pushing me toward those stairs, +whether I would or no. I tried to hold back, and tell myself it was +nonsense, and that I was nervous and foolish; it made no difference, +I had to go up-stairs. + +"I went softly, my shoes making no noise. My own little room was dark, +for I had closed the blinds when the afternoon sun was pouring in +hot and bright; but a slender line of light lay across the blackness +like a long finger, and I knew the moon was shining in at the +windows of the shed chamber. I did a thing I had never done before +in my life; that silver finger came through the keyhole, and it drew +me to it. I knelt down and looked through. + +"The big room shone bare and white in the moonlight; the trunks +looked like great animals crouching along the walls. Annie stood in +the middle of the room, as if she were waiting or listening for +something. Then she slipped off her shoes and went to one of the +windows and opened it. I had fastened it, but the catch was old and +she knew the trick of it, of course. In another moment something +black appeared over the low sill; it was a man's head. My heart +seemed to stand still. She helped him, and he got in without making +a sound. He must have climbed up the big elm-tree which grew close +against the house. They stood whispering together for a few minutes, +but I could not hear a word. + +"The man was in stocking feet; he had an evil, coarse face, yet he +was good-looking, too, in a way. I thought the girl seemed frightened, +and yet pleased, too; and he seemed to be praising her, I thought, +and once he put his arms round her and kissed her. She went to the +wardrobe and opened it, but he shook his head; then she opened the +great cedar trunk, and he nodded, and measured it and got into it +and sat down. It was so deep that he could sit quite comfortably +with the cover down. Annie shut it and then opened it again. + +"I had seen all I wanted to see. I slipped down-stairs as I heard +her move toward the door; when she came down I was stirring my cocoa +on the stove, with my back to her. She came round and showed me a +bundle she had in her hand, and said she must be going now. I kept +my face in the shadow as well as I could, for I was afraid I might +not be able to look just as usual; but I spoke quietly, and asked +her if she had found everything, and wished her good night as +pleasantly as I knew how. All the while my head was in a whirl and +my heart beat so loud I thought she must have heard it. There was a +good deal of silver in the house, and I knew that Mr. Bowles had +drawn some money from the bank only a day or two before, to pay a +life-insurance premium. + +"I never listened to anything as I did to the sound of her footsteps; +even after they had died away, after she had turned the corner, a +good way off, I stood still, listening, not stirring hand or foot. +But when I no longer heard any sound my strength seemed to come back +with a leap, and I knew what I had to do. I told you my shoes made +no noise. I slipped up-stairs, through my own room, and into the shed +chamber. Girls, it lay so peaceful and bare in the white moonlight, +that for a moment I thought I must have dreamed it all. + +"It seemed half a mile to the farther end, where the great cedar +trunk stood. As I went a board creaked under my feet, and I +heard--or fancied I heard--a faint rustle inside the trunk. I began +to hum a tune, and moved about among the trunks, raising and +shutting the lids, as if I were looking for something. Now at last I +was beside the dreadful chest, and in another instant I had turned +the key. Then, girls, I flew! I knew the lock was a stout one and +the wood heavy and hard; it would take the man some time to get it +open from the inside, whatever tools he might have. I was +down-stairs in one breath, praying that I might be able to control my +voice so that it would not sound strange to the sick woman. + +"'Would you mind if I went out for a few minutes, Mrs. Bowles? The +moonlight is so lovely I thought I would like to take a little walk, +if there is nothing you want.' + +"She looked surprised, but said in her kind way, yes, certainly I +might go, only I'd better not go far. + +"I thanked her, and walked quietly out to the end of the garden walk; +then I ran! Girls, I had no idea I could run so! Strength seemed +given me, for I never felt my body. I was like a spirit flying or a +wind blowing. The road melted away before me, and all the time I saw +two things before my eyes as plain as I see you now,--the evil-faced +man working away at the lock of the cedar chest, and the sweet lady +sitting in the room below with her Bible on her knee. Yes, I thought +of the children, too, but it seemed to me no one, not even the +wickedest, could wish to hurt a child. So on I ran! + +"I reached the first house, but I knew there was no man there, only +two nervous old ladies. At the next house I should find two men, +George Brett and his father. + +"Yes, Lottie, my George, but I had never seen him then. He had only +lately come back from college. The first I saw of him was two +minutes later, when I ran almost into his arms as he came out of the +house. I can see him now, in the moonlight, tall and strong, with +his surprised eyes on me. I must have been a wild figure, I suppose. +I could hardly speak, but somehow I made him understand. + +"He turned back to the door and shouted to his father, who came +hurrying out; then he looked at me. 'Can you run back?' he asked. + +"I nodded. I had no breath for words but plenty for running, I +thought. + +"'Come on, then!' + +"Girls, it was twice as easy running with that strong figure beside +me. I noticed in all my hurry and distress how easily he ran, and I +felt my feet, that had grown heavy in the last few steps, light as +air again. Once I sobbed for breath, and he took my hand as we ran, +saying, 'Courage, brave girl!' We ran on hand in hand, and I never +failed again. We heard Mr. Brett's feet running, not far behind; he +was a strong, active man, but could not quite keep up with us. + +"As we neared the house, 'Quiet,' I said; 'Mrs. Bowles does not know.'" + +He nodded, and we slipped in at the back door. In an instant his +shoes were off and he was up the back stairs like a cat, and I after +him. As we entered the shed chamber the lid of the cedar trunk rose. + +I saw the gleam of the evil black eyes and the shine of white, +wolfish teeth. Without a sound George Brett sprang past me; without +a sound the robber leaped to meet him. I saw them in the white light +as they clinched and stood locked together; then a mist came before +my eyes and I saw nothing more. + +"I did not actually faint, I think; it cannot have been more than a +few minutes before I came to myself. But when I looked again George +was kneeling with his knee on the man's breast, holding him down, +and Father Brett was looking about the chamber and saying, in his +dry way, 'Now where in Tunkett is the clothes-line to tie this fellow?' + +"And the girl? Annie? O girls, she was so young! She was just my own +age and she had no mother. I went to see her the next day, and many +days after that. We are fast friends now, and she is a good, steady +girl; and no one knows--no one except our two selves and two +others--that she was ever in the shed chamber." + + + + +_MAINE TO THE RESCUE_ + + +"Oh, dear! oh, dear! It's snowing!" + +"Hurrah! hurrah! It's snowing!" + +Massachusetts looked up from her algebra. She was the head of the +school. She was rosy and placid as the apple she was generally +eating when not in class. Apples and algebra were the things she +cared most about in school life. + +"Whence come these varying cries?" she said, taking her feet off the +fender and trying to be interested, though her thoughts went on with +"a 1/6 b =" etc. + +"Oh, Virginia is grumbling because it is snowing, and Maine is +feeling happy over it, that's all!" said Rhode Island, the smallest +girl in Miss Wayland's school. + +"Poor Virginia! It is rather hard on you to have snow in March, when +you have just got your box of spring clothes from home." + +"It is atrocious!" said Virginia, a tall, graceful, languishing girl. +"How could they send me to such a place, where it is winter all the +spring? Why, at home the violets are in blossom, the trees are coming +out, the birds singing--" + +"And at home," broke in Maine, who was a tall girl, too, but lithe +and breezy as a young willow, with flyaway hair and dancing brown +eyes, "at home all is winter--white, beautiful, glorious winter, +with ice two or three feet thick on the rivers, and great fields and +fields of snow, all sparkling in the sun, and the sky a vast +sapphire overhead, without a speck. Oh, the glory of it, the +splendor of it! And here--here it is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor +good red herring. A wretched, makeshift season, which they call +winter because they don't know what else to call it." + +"Come! come!" said Old New York, who was seventeen years old and had +her own ideas of dignity. "Let us alone, you two outsiders! We are +neither Eskimos nor Hindoos, it is true, but the Empire State would +not change climates with either of you." + +"No, indeed!" chimed in Young New York, who always followed her +leader in everything, from opinions down to hair-ribbons. + +"No, indeed!" repeated Virginia, with languid scorn. "Because you +couldn't get any one to change with you, my dear." + +Young New York reddened. "You are so disagreeable, Virginia!" she +said. "I am sure I am glad I don't have to live with you all the +year round--" + +"Personal remarks!" said Massachusetts, looking up calmly. "One cent, +Young New York, for the missionary fund. Thank you! Let me give you +each half an apple, and you will feel better." + +She solemnly divided a large red apple, and gave the halves to the +two scowling girls, who took them, laughing in spite of themselves, +and went their separate ways. + +"Why didn't you let them have it out, Massachusetts?" said Maine, +laughing. "You never let any one have a good row." + +"Slang!" said Massachusetts, looking up again. "One cent for the +missionary fund. You will clothe the heathen at this rate, Maine. +That is the fourth cent to-day." + +"'Row' isn't slang!" protested Maine, feeling, however, for her +pocket-book. + +"Vulgar colloquial!" returned Massachusetts, quietly. "And perhaps +you would go away now, Maine, or else be quiet. Have you learned--" + +"No, I haven't!" said Maine. "I will do it very soon, dear Saint +Apple. I must look at the snow a little more." + +Maine went dancing off to her room, where she threw the window open +and looked out with delight. The girl caught up a double handful and +tossed it about, laughing for pure pleasure. Then she leaned out to +feel the beating of the flakes on her face. + +"Really quite a respectable little snowstorm!" she said, nodding +approval at the whirling white drift. "Go on, and you will be worth +while, my dear." She went singing to her algebra, which she could not +have done if it had not been snowing. + +The snow went on increasing from hour to hour. By noon the wind +began to rise; before night it was blowing a furious gale. Furious +blasts clutched at the windows, and rattled them like castanets. The +wind howled and shrieked and moaned, till it seemed as if the air +were filled with angry demons fighting to possess the square white +house. + +Many of the pupils of Miss Wayland's school came to the tea-table +with disturbed faces; but Massachusetts was as calm as usual, and +Maine was jubilant. + +"Isn't it a glorious storm?" she cried, exultingly. "I didn't know +there could be such a storm in this part of the country, Miss Wayland. +Will you give me some milk, please?" + +"There is no milk, my dear," said Miss Wayland, who looked rather +troubled. "The milkman has not come, and probably will not come +to-night. There has never been such a storm here in my lifetime!" +she added. "Do you have such storms at home, my dear?" + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" Maine said, cheerfully. "I don't know that we +often have so much wind as this, but the snow is nothing out of the +way. Why, on Palm Sunday last year our milkman dug through a drift +twenty feet deep to get at his cows. He was the only milkman who +ventured out, and he took me and the minister's wife to church in +his little red pung. + +"We were the only women in church, I remember. Miss Betsy Follansbee, +who had not missed going to church in fifteen years, started on foot, +after climbing out of her bedroom window to the shed roof and +sliding down. All her doors were blocked up, and she lived alone, so +there was no one to dig her out. But she got stuck in a drift about +half-way, and had to stay there till one of the neighbors came by +and pulled her out." + +All the girls laughed at this, and even Miss Wayland smiled; but +suddenly she looked grave again. + +"Hark!" she said, and listened. "Did you not hear something?" + +"We hear Boreas, Auster, Eurus, and Zephyrus," answered Old New York. +"Nothing else." + +At that moment there was a lull in the screeching of the wind; all +listened intently, and a faint sound was heard from without which +was not that of the blast. + +"A child!" said Massachusetts, rising quickly. "It is a child's voice. +I will go, Miss Wayland." + +"I cannot permit it, Alice!" cried Miss Wayland, in great distress. +"I cannot allow you to think of it. You are just recovering from a +severe cold, and I am responsible to your parents. What shall we do? +It certainly sounds like a child crying out in the pitiless storm. +Of course it _may_ be a cat--" + +Maine had gone to the window at the first alarm, and now turned with +shining eyes. + +"It _is_ a child!" she said, quietly. "I have no cold, Miss Wayland. +I am going, of course." + +Passing by Massachusetts, who had started out of her usual calm and +stood in some perplexity, she whispered, "If it were freezing, it +wouldn't cry. I shall be in time. Get a ball of stout twine." + +She disappeared. In three minutes she returned, dressed in her +blanket coat, reaching half-way below her knees, scarlet leggings +and gaily wrought moccasins; on her head a fur cap, with a band of +sea-otter fur projecting over her eyes. In her hand she held a pair +of snow-shoes. She had had no opportunity to wear her snow-shoeing +suit all winter, and she was quite delighted. + +"My child!" said Miss Wayland, faintly. "How can I let you go? My +duty to your parents--what are those strange things, and what use +are you going to make of them?" + +By way of answer Maine slipped her feet into the snow-shoes, and, +with Massachusetts' aid, quickly fastened the thongs. + +"The twine!" she said. "Yes, that will do; plenty of it. Tie it to +the door-handle, square knot, so! I'm all right, dear; don't worry." +Like a flash the girl was gone out into the howling night. + +Miss Wayland wrung her hands and wept, and most of the girls wept +with her. Virginia, who was curled up in a corner, really sick with +fright, beckoned to Massachusetts. + +"Is there any chance of her coming back alive?" she asked, in a +whisper. "I wish I had made up with her. But we may all die in this +awful storm." + +"Nonsense!" said Massachusetts. "Try to have a little sense, Virginia! +Maine is all right, and can take care of herself; and as for +whimpering at the wind, when you have a good roof over your head, it +is too absurd." + +For the first time since she came to school Massachusetts forgot the +study hour, as did every one else; and in spite of her brave efforts +at cheerful conversation, it was a sad and an anxious group that sat +about the fire in the pleasant parlor. + +Maine went out quickly, and closed the door behind her; then stood +still a moment, listening for the direction of the cry. She did not +hear it at first, but presently it broke out--a piteous little wail, +sounding louder now in the open air. The girl bent her head to listen. +Where was the child? The voice came from the right, surely! She +would make her way down to the road, and then she could tell better. + +Grasping the ball of twine firmly, she stepped forward, planting the +broad snow-shoes lightly in the soft, dry snow. As she turned the +corner of the house an icy blast caught her, as if with furious hands, +shook her like a leaf, and flung her roughly against the wall. + +Her forehead struck the corner, and for a moment she was stunned; +but the blood trickling down her face quickly brought her to herself. +She set her teeth, folded her arms tightly, and stooping forward, +measured her strength once more with that of the gale. + +This time it seemed as if she were cleaving a wall of ice, which +opened only to close behind her. On she struggled, unrolling her +twine as she went. + +The child's cry sounded louder, and she took fresh heart. Pausing, +she clapped her hand to her mouth repeatedly, uttering a shrill, +long call. It was the Indian whoop, which her father had taught her +in their woodland rambles at home. + +The childish wail stopped; she repeated the cry louder and longer; +then shouted, at the top of her lungs, "Hold on! Help is coming!" + +Again and again the wind buffeted her, and forced her backward a +step or two; but she lowered her head, and wrapped her arms more +tightly about her body, and plodded on. + +Once she fell, stumbling over a stump; twice she ran against a tree, +for the white darkness was absolutely blinding, and she saw nothing, +felt nothing but snow, snow. At last her snow-shoe struck something +hard. She stretched out her hands--it was the stone wall. And now, +as she crept along beside it, the child's wail broke out again close +at hand. + +"Mother! O mother! mother!" + +The girl's heart beat fast. + +"Where are you?" she cried. At the same moment she stumbled against +something soft. A mound of snow, was it? No! for it moved. It moved +and cried, and little hands clutched her dress. + +She saw nothing, but put her hands down, and touched a little cold +face. She dragged the child out of the snow, which had almost +covered it, and set it on its feet. + +"Who are you?" she asked, putting her face down close, while by +vigorous patting and rubbing she tried to give life to the benumbed, +cowering little figure, which staggered along helplessly, clutching +her with half-frozen fingers. + +"Benny Withers!" sobbed the child. "Mother sent me for the clothes, +but I can't get 'em!" + +"Benny Withers!" cried Maine. "Why, you live close by. Why didn't +you go home, child?" + +"I can't!" cried the boy. "I can't see nothing. I tried to get to +the school, an' I tried to get home, an' I can't get nowhere 'cept +against this wall. Let me stay here now! I want to rest me a little." + +He would have sunk down again, but Maine caught him up in her strong, +young arms. + +"Here, climb up on my back, Benny!" she said, cheerfully. "Hold on +tight round my neck, and you shall rest while I take you home. So! +That's a brave boy! Upsy, now! there you are! Now put your head on +my shoulder--close! and hold on!" + +Ah! how Maine blessed the heavy little brother at home, who _would_ +ride on his sister's back, long after mamma said he was too big. How +she blessed the carryings up and down stairs, the "horsey rides" +through the garden and down the lane, which had made her shoulders +strong! + +Benny Withers was eight years old, but he was small and slender, and +no heavier than six-year-old Philip. No need of telling the child to +hold on, once he was up out of the cruel snow bed. He clung +desperately round the girl's neck, and pressed his head close +against the woollen stuff. + +Maine pulled her ball of twine from her pocket--fortunately it was a +large one, and the twine, though strong, was fine, so that there +seemed to be no end to it--and once more lowered her head, and set +her teeth, and moved forward, keeping close to the wall, in the +direction of Mrs. Withers's cottage. + +For awhile she saw nothing, when she looked up under the fringe of +otter fur, which, long and soft, kept the snow from blinding her; +nothing but the white, whirling drift which beat with icy, stinging +blows in her face. But at last her eyes caught a faint glimmer of +light, and presently a brighter gleam showed her Mrs. Withers's gray +cottage, now white like the rest of the world. + +Bursting open the cottage door, she almost threw the child into the +arms of his mother. + +The woman, who had been weeping wildly, could hardly believe her eyes. +She caught the little boy and smothered him with kisses, chafing his +cold hands, and crying over him. + +"I didn't know!" she said. "I didn't know till he was gone. I told +him at noon he was to go, never thinking 'twould be like this. I was +sure he was lost and dead, but I couldn't leave my sick baby. Bless +you, whoever you are, man or woman! But stay and get warm, and rest +ye! You're never going out again in this awful storm!" + +But Maine was gone. + +In Miss Wayland's parlor the suspense was fast becoming unendurable. +They had heard Maine's Indian whoop, and some of them, Miss Wayland +herself among the number, thought it was a cry of distress; but +Massachusetts rightly interpreted the call, and assured them that it +was a call of encouragement to the bewildered child. + +Then came silence within the house, and a prolonged clamor--a sort +of witches' chorus, with wailing and shrieking without. Once a heavy +branch was torn from one of the great elms, and came thundering down +on the roof. This proved the finishing touch for poor Virginia. She +went into violent hysterics, and was carried off to bed by Miss Way +land and Old New York. + +Massachusetts presently ventured to explore a little. She hastened +through the hall to the front door, opened it a few inches, and put +her hand on the twine which was fastened to the handle. What was her +horror to find that it hung loose, swinging idly in the wind! Sick +at heart, she shut the door, and pressing her hands over her eyes, +tried to think. + +Maine must be lost in the howling storm! She must find her; but +where and how? + +Oh! if Miss Wayland had only let her go at first! She was older; it +would not have mattered so much. + +But now, quick! she would wrap herself warmly, and slip out without +any one knowing. + +The girl was turning to fly up-stairs, when suddenly something fell +heavily against the door outside. There was a fumbling for the handle; +the next moment it flew open, and something white stumbled into the +hall, shut the door, and sat down heavily on the floor. + +"Personal--rudeness!" gasped Maine, struggling for breath. "You shut +the door in my face! One cent for the missionary fund." + +The great storm was over. The sun came up, and looked down on a +strange, white world. No fences, no walls; only a smooth ridge where +one of these had been. Trees which the day before had been quite +tall now looked like dwarfs, spreading their broad arms not far from +the snow carpet beneath them. Road there was none; all was smooth, +save where some huge drift nodded its crest like a billow curling +for its downward rush. + +Maine, spite of her scarred face, which showed as many patches as +that of a court lady in King George's times, was jubilant. Tired! +not a bit of it! A little stiff, just enough to need "limbering out," +as they said at home. + +"There is no butter!" she announced at breakfast. "There is no milk, +no meat for dinner. Therefore, I go a-snow-shoeing. Dear Miss Wayland, +let me go! I have learned my algebra, and I shall be discovering +unknown quantities at every step, which will be just as instructive." + +Miss Wayland could refuse nothing to the heroine of last night's +adventure. Behold Maine, therefore, triumphant, sallying forth, clad +once more in her blanket suit, and dragging her sled behind her. + +There was no struggling now--no hand-to-hand wrestling with +storm-demons. The sun laughed from a sky as blue and deep as her own +sky of Maine, and the girl laughed with him as she walked along, the +powdery snow flying in a cloud from her snow-shoes at every step. + +Such a sight had never been seen in Mentor village before. The +people came running to their upper windows--their lower ones were +for the most part buried in snow--and stared with all their eyes at +the strange apparition. + +In the street, life was beginning to stir. People had found, +somewhat to their own surprise, that they were alive and well after +the blizzard; and knots of men were clustered here and there, +discussing the storm, while some were already at work tunnelling +through the drifts. + +Mr. Perkins, the butcher, had just got his door open, and great was +his amazement when Maine hailed him from the top of a great drift, +and demanded a quarter of mutton with some soup meat. + +[Illustration: "MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT."] + +"Yes, miss!" he stammered, open-mouthed with astonishment. "I--I've +got the meat; but I wasn't--my team isn't out this morning. I don't +know about sending it." + +"I have a 'team' here!" said Maine, quietly, pulling her sled +alongside. "Give me the mutton, Mr. Perkins; you may charge it to +Miss Wayland, please, and I will take it home." + +The butter-man and the grocer were visited in the same way, and Maine, +rather embarrassed by the concentrated observation of the whole +village, turned to pull her laden sled back, when suddenly a window +was thrown open, and a voice exclaimed: + +"Young woman! I will give you ten dollars for the use of those +snow-shoes for an hour!" + +Maine looked up in amazement, and laughed merrily when she saw the +well-known countenance of the village doctor. + +"What! You, my dear young lady?" cried the good man. "This is 'Maine +to the Rescue,' indeed! I might have known it was you. But I repeat +my offer. Make it anything you please, only let me have the +snow-shoes. I cannot get a horse out, and have two patients +dangerously ill. What is your price for the magic shoes?" + +"My price, doctor?" repeated Maine, looking up with dancing eyes. +"My price is--one cent. For the Missionary Fund! The snow-shoes are +yours, and I will get home somehow with my sled and the mutton." + +So she did, and Doctor Fowler made his calls with the snow-shoes, +and saved a life, and brought cheer and comfort to many. But it was +ten dollars, and not one cent, which he gave to the Missionary Fund. + + + + +THE SCARLET LEAVES + + +"The Committee will please come to order!" said Maine. + +"What's up?" asked Massachusetts, pausing in her occupation of +peeling chestnuts. + +"Why, you know well enough, Massachusetts. Here it is Wednesday, and +we don't know yet what we are going to do on Friday evening. We must +do something, or go shamed to our graves. Never a senior class has +missed its Frivolous Friday, since the school began." + +"Absolutely no hope of the play?" + +"None! Alma's part is too important; no one could possibly take it +at two days' notice. Unless--they say Chicago has a real gift for +acting; but somehow, I don't feel as if she were the person." + +"I should bar that, positively," put in Tennessee. "In the first +place, Chicago has not been here long enough to be identified with +the class. She is clever, of course, or she could not have entered +junior last year; but--well, it isn't necessary to say anything more; +she is out of the question." + +"It is too exasperating!" said Massachusetts. "Alma might have +waited another week before coming down with measles." + +"It's harder for her than for any one else, Massachusetts," said +Maine. "Poor dear; she almost cried her eyes out yesterday, when the +spots appeared, and there was no more doubt." + +"Yes, I know that; she is a poor, unfortunate Lamb, and I love her, +you know I do; still, a growl may be permitted, Maine. There's +nothing criminal in a growl. The question is, as you were saying, +what shall we do?" + +"A dance?" + +"We had a dance last week!" said Maine; "at least the sophomores did, +and we don't want to copy them." + +"A straw-ride?" + +"A candy-pull?" + +"A concert?" + +"The real question is," said Tennessee, cracking her chestnut +leisurely, "what does Maine intend to do? If she thinks we made her +Class President because we meant to arrange things ourselves, she is +more ignorant than I supposed her. Probably she has the whole thing +settled in her Napoleonic mind. Out with it, Moosetocmaguntic!" + +Maine smiled, and looked round her. The Committee was clustered in a +group at the foot of a great chestnut-tree, at the very edge of a +wood. The leaves were still thick on the trees, and the October sun +shone through their golden masses, pouring a flood of warmth and +light down on the greensward, sprinkled with yellow leaves and +half-open chestnut burrs. Massachusetts and Tennessee, sturdy and +four-square as their own hills; Old New York and New Jersey, and +Maine herself, a tall girl with clear, kind eyes, and a color that +came and went as she talked. This was the Committee. + +[Illustration: THE CONFERENCE.] + +"Well," said Maine, modestly. "I did have an idea, girls. I don't +know whether you will approve or not, but--what do you say to a +fancy ball?" + +"A fancy ball! at two days' notice!" + +"Penobscot is losing her mind. Pity to see it shattered, for it was +once a fine organ." + +"Be quiet, Tennessee! I don't mean anything elaborate, of course. +But I thought we might have an informal frolic, and dress up in--oh, +anything we happened to have. Not call it a dance, but have dancing +all the same; don't you see? There are all kinds of costumes that +can be got up with very little trouble, and no expense to speak of." + +"For example!" said Massachusetts. "She has it all arranged, girls; +all we have to do is to sit back and let wisdom flow in our ears." + +"Massachusetts, if you tease me any more, _I'll_ sit back, and let +you do it all yourself. Well, then--let me see! Tennessee--to tell +the truth, I didn't sleep very well last night; my head ached; and I +amused myself by planning a few costumes, just in case you should +fancy the idea." + +"Quack! quack!" said Massachusetts. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but +you _are_ a duck, and I must just show that I can speak your language. +Go on!" + +"Tennessee, I thought you might be an Indian. You must have something +that will show your hair. With my striped shawl for a blanket, and +the cock's feather out of Jersey's hat--what do you think?" + +"Perfect!" said Tennessee. "And I can try effects with my new +paint-box, one cheek stripes, the other spots. Hurrah! next!" + +"Old New York, you must be a flower of some kind. Or--why not a +basket of flowers? You could have a basket-work bodice, don't you see? +and flowers coming out of it all round your neck--your neck is so +pretty, you ought to show it--" + +"Or carrots and turnips!" said the irrepressible Massachusetts. +"Call her a Harvest Hamper, and braid her lovely locks with strings +of onions!" + +"Thank you," laughed Old New York, a slender girl whose flower-like +beauty made her a pleasure to look at. "I think I'll keep to the posy, +Massachusetts. Go on, Maine! what shall Massachusetts be, and what +will you be yourself?" + +"Massachusetts ought by rights to be an apple, a nice fat rosy apple; +but I don't quite know how that can be managed." + +"Then I shall be a codfish!" said Massachusetts, decidedly. +"I am not going to desert Mr. Micawber--I mean the Bay State. I +shall go as a salt codfish. _Dixi_! Pass on to the Pine-Tree!" + +"Why, so I might be a pine-tree! I didn't think of that. But still, +I don't think I will; I meant to be October. The leaves at home are +so glorious in October, and I saw some scarlet leaves yesterday that +will be lovely for chaplets and garlands." + +"What are they? the maples don't turn red here--too near the sea, I +suppose." + +"I don't know what they are. Pointed leaves, rather long and delicate, +and the most splendid color you ever saw. There is just this one +little tree, near the crossroad by the old stone house. I haven't +seen anything like it about here. I found it yesterday, and just +stood and looked at it, it was so beautiful. Yes, I shall be October; +I'll decide on that. What's that rustling in the wood? aren't we all +here? I thought I heard something moving among the trees. I do +believe some one is in there, Massachusetts." + +"I was pulling down a branch; don't be imaginative, my dear. Well, +go on! are we to make out all the characters?" + +"Why--I thought not. Some of the girls will like better to choose +their own, don't you think? I thought we, as the Committee, might +make out a list of suggestions, though, and then they can do as they +please. But now, I wish some of you others would suggest something; +I don't want to do it all." + +"Daisy will have to be her namesake, of course," said Tennessee. + +"Jersey can be a mosquito," said Old New York; "she's just the +figure for it." + +"Thank you!" said Jersey, who weighed ninety pounds. "Going on that +theory, Pennsylvania ought to go as an elephant, and Rhode Island as +a giraffe." + +"And Chicago as a snake--no! I didn't mean that!" cried Maine. + +"You said it! you said it!" cried several voices, in triumph. + +"The Charitable Organ has called names at last!" said Jersey, +laughing. "And she has hit it exactly. Now, Maine, what is the use +of looking pained? the girl _is_ a snake--or a sneak, which amounts +to the same thing. Let us have truth, I say, at all hazards." + +"I am sorry!" said Maine, simply. "I am not fond of Chicago, and +that is the very reason why I should not call her names behind her +back. It slipped out before I knew it; I am sorry and ashamed, and +that is all there is to say. And now, suppose we go home, and tell +the other girls about the party." + +The Committee trooped off across the hill, laughing and talking, +Maine alone grave and silent. As their voices died away, the ferns +nodded beside a great pine-tree that stood just within the border of +the wood, not six yards from where they had been sitting. A slender +dark girl rose from the fern-clump in which she had been crouching, +and shook the pine-needles from her dress. Very cautiously she +parted the screen of leaves, and looked after the retreating girls. + +"That was worth while!" she said; and her voice, though quiet, was +full of ugly meaning. "Snakes can hear, Miss Oracle, and bite, too. +We'll see about those scarlet leaves!" + + + + +PART II + + + "Tra la, tra lee, + I want my tea!" + +Sang Tennessee, as she ran up-stairs. "Oh, Maine, is that you? my +dear, my costume is simply too perfect for anything. I've been out +in the woods, practising my war-whoop. Three yelps and a screech; I +flatter myself it is the _most_ blood-curdling screech you ever heard. +I'm going to have a dress-rehearsal now, all by myself. Come and +see--why, what's the matter, Maine? something is wrong with you. +What is it?" + +"Oh! nothing serious," said Maine, trying to speak lightly. +"I must get up another costume, that's all, and there isn't much time." + +"Why! what has happened?" + +"The scarlet leaves are gone." + +"Gone! fallen, do you mean?" + +"No! some one has cut or broken every branch. There is not one left. +The leaves made the whole costume, you see; it amounts to nothing +without them, merely a yellow gown." + +"Oh! my dear, what a shame! Who could have taken them?" + +"I cannot imagine. I thought I would get them to-day, and keep them +in water over night, so as to have them all ready to-morrow. Oh, well, +it can't be helped. I can call myself a sunflower, or Black-eyed +Susan, or some other yellow thing. It's absurd to mind, of course, +only--" + +"Only, being human, you do mind," said Tennessee, putting her arm +round her friend's waist. "I should think so, dear. We don't care +about having you canonized just yet. But, Maine, there must be more +red leaves somewhere. This comes of living near the sea. Now, in my +mountains, or in your woods, we could just go out and fill our arms +with glory in five minutes, whichever way we turned. These murmuring +pines and--well, I don't know that there are any hemlocks--are all +very splendid, and no one loves them better than I do; but for a +Harvest festival decoration, '_Ils ne sont pas là dedans_,' as the +French have it." + +"Slang, Tennessee! one cent!" + +"On the contrary; foreign language, mark of commendation. + +"But come now, and see my war-dance. I didn't mean to let any one +see it before-hand, but you are a dear old thing, and you shall. And +then, we can take counsel about your costume. Not that I have the +smallest anxiety about that; I've no doubt you have thought of +something pretty already. I don't see how you do it. When any one +says 'Clothes' to me, I never can think of anything but red flannel +petticoats, if you will excuse my mentioning the article. I think +Black-eyed Susan sounds delightful. How would you dress for it? you +have the pretty yellow dress all ready." + +"I should put brown velveteen with it. I have quite a piece left +over from my blouse. I'll get some yellow crêpe paper, and make a hat, +or cap, with a brown crown, you know, and yellow petals for the brim; +and have a brown bodice laced together over the full yellow waist, +and--" + +The two girls passed on, talking cheerfully--it is always soothing +to talk about pretty clothes, especially when one is as clever as +Maine was, and can make, as Massachusetts used to say, a court train +out of a jack-towel. + +A few minutes after, Massachusetts came along the same corridor, and +tapped at another door. Hearing "Come in!" she opened the door and +looked in. + +"Busy, Chicago? beg pardon! Miss Cram asked me, as I was going by, to +show you the geometry lesson, as you were not in class yesterday." + +"Thanks! come in, won't you?" said Chicago, rising ungraciously from +her desk, "I was going to ask Miss Cram, of course, but I'm much +obliged." + +Massachusetts pointed out the lesson briefly, and turned to go, when +her eyes fell on a jar set on the ground, behind the door. + +"Hallo!" she said, abruptly. "You've got scarlet leaves, too. Where +did you get them?" + +"I found them," said Chicago, coldly. "They were growing wild, on +the public highway. I had a perfect right to pick them." + +There was a defiant note in her voice, and Massachusetts looked at +her with surprise. The girl's eyes glittered with an uneasy light, +and her dark cheek was flushed. + +"I don't question your right," said Massachusetts, bluntly, +"but I do question your sense. I may be mistaken, but I don't +believe those leaves are very good to handle. They look to me +uncommonly like dogwood. I'm not sure; but if I were you, I would +show them to Miss Flower before I touched them again." + +She nodded and went out, dismissing the matter from her busy mind. + +"Spiteful!" said Chicago, looking after her sullenly. + +"She suspects where I got the leaves, and thinks she can frighten me +out of wearing them. I never saw such a hateful set of girls as +there are in this school. Never mind, sweet creatures! The 'snake' +has got the scarlet leaves, and she knows when she has got a good +thing." + +She took some of the leaves from the jar, and held them against her +black hair. They were brilliantly beautiful, and became her well. +She looked in the glass and nodded, well pleased with what she saw +there; then she carefully clipped the ends of the branches, and put +fresh water in the jar before replacing them. + +"Indian Summer will take the shine out of Black-eyed Susan, I'm +afraid," she said to herself. "Poor Susan, I am sorry for her." She +laughed; it was not a pleasant laugh; and went back to her books. + + + + +PART III. + + +"What a pretty sight!" + +It was Miss Wayland who spoke. She and the other teachers were +seated on the raised platform at the end of the gymnasium. The long +room was wreathed with garlands and brilliantly lighted, and they +were watching the girls as they flitted by in their gay dresses, to +the waltz that good Miss Flower was playing. + +"How ingenious the children are!" Miss Wayland continued. "Look at +Virginia there, as Queen Elizabeth! Her train is my old party cloak +turned inside out, and her petticoat--you recognize that?" + +"I, not!" said Mademoiselle, peering forward. "I am too near of my +sight. What ees it?" + +"The piano cover. That Persian silk, you know, that my brother sent +me. I never knew how handsome it was before. The ruff, and those +wonderful puffed sleeves, are mosquito-netting; the whole effect is +superb--at a little distance." + +"I thought Virginie not suffeeciently clayver for to effect zis!" +said Mademoiselle. "Of custome, she shows not--what do you say? +--invention." + +"Oh, she simply wears the costume, with her own peculiar little air +of dignity. Maine designed it. Maine is costumer in chief. The +Valiant Three, Maine, Massachusetts, and Tennessee, took all the +unpractical girls in hand, and simply--dressed them. _Entre nous_, +Mademoiselle, I wish, in some cases, that they would do it every day." + +"_Et moi aussi_!" exclaimed Mademoiselle, nodding eagerly. + +"Maine herself is lovely," said Miss Cram. "I think hers is really +the prettiest costume in the room; all that soft brown and yellow is +really charming, and suits her to perfection." + +"Yes; and I am so glad of it, for the child was sadly disappointed +about some other costume she had planned, and got this up almost at +the last moment. She is a clever child, and a good one. Do look at +Massachusetts! Massachusetts, my dear child, what do you call +yourself? you are a most singular figure." + +"The Codfish, Miss Wayland; straight from Boston State-House. Admire +my tail, please! I got up at five o'clock this morning to finish it, +and I must confess I am proud of it." + +She napped her tail, which was a truly astonishing one, made of +newspapers neatly plaited and sewed together, and wriggled her body, +clad in well-fitting scales of silver paper. "Quite a fish, I +flatter myself?" she said, insinuatingly. + +"Very like a whale, if not like a codfish," said Miss Wayland, +laughing heartily. "You certainly are one of the successes of the +evening, Massachusetts, and the Mosquito is another, in that filmy +gray. Is that mosquito-netting, too? I congratulate you both on your +skill. By the way, what does Chicago represent? she is very effective, +with all those scarlet leaves. What are they, I wonder!" + +Massachusetts turned hastily, and a low whistle came from her lips. +"Whew! I beg pardon, Miss Wayland. It was the codfish whistled, not I; +it's a way they have on Friday evenings. I told that girl to ask +Miss Flower about those leaves; I am afraid they are--oh, here is +Miss Flower!" as the good botany teacher came towards them, rather +out of breath after her playing. + +"Miss Flower, what are those leaves, please? those in Chicago's hair, +and on her dress." + +Miss Flower looked, and her cheerful face grew grave. + +"_Rhus veneneta_" she said; "poison dogwood." + +"I was afraid so!" said Massachusetts. "I told her yesterday that I +thought they were dogwood, and advised her to show them to you +before she touched them again." + +"Poor child!" said kind Miss Flower. "She has them all about her +face and neck, too. We must get them off at once." + +She was starting forward, but Miss Wayland detained her. + +"The mischief is done now, is it not?" she said. "And after all, +dogwood does not poison every one. I have had it in my hands, and +never got the smallest injury. Suppose we let her have her evening, +at least till after supper, which will be ready now in a few minutes. +If she is affected by the poison, this is her last taste of the +Harvest Festivities." + +They watched the girl. She was receiving compliments on her striking +costume, from one girl and another, and was in high spirits. She +glanced triumphantly about her, her eyes lighting up when they fell +on Maine in her yellow dress. She certainly looked brilliantly +handsome, the flaming scarlet of the leaves setting off her dark +skin and flashing eyes to perfection. + +Presently she put her hand up to her cheek, and held it there a +moment. + +"Aha!" said Massachusetts, aloud. "She's in for it!" + +"In for what?" said Maine, who came up at that moment. Following the +direction of Massachusetts' eyes, she drew her apart, and spoke in a +low tone. "I shall not say anything, Massachusetts, and I hope you +will not. Don't you know?" she added, seeing her friend's look of +inquiry. "Those are my scarlet leaves." + +"No!" + +"Yes. I have found out all about it. Daisy lingered behind the rest +of us the other day, when I had been telling you all about the leaves, +to pick blackberries. She saw Chicago come out of the wood a few +minutes after we left, looking black as thunder. Don't you remember, +I thought I heard a rustling in the fern, and you laughed at me? She +was hidden there, and heard every word we said. Next day the leaves +were gone, and now they are on Chicago's dress instead of mine." + +"And a far better place for them!" exclaimed Massachusetts, +"though I am awfully sorry for her. Oh! you lucky, lucky girl! and +you dear, precious, stupid ignoramus, not to know poison dogwood +when you see it." + +"Poison dogwood! those beautiful leaves!" + +"Those beautiful leaves. That young woman is in for about two weeks +of as pretty a torture as ever Inquisitor or Iroquois could devise. +I know all about it, though there was a time when I also was ignorant. +Look! she is feeling of her cheek already; it begins to sting. +Tomorrow she will be all over patches, red and white; itching--there +is nothing to describe the itching. It is beyond words. Next day her +face will begin to swell, and in two days more--the School Birthday, +my dear--she will be like nothing human, a mere shapeless lump of +pain and horror. She will not sleep by night or rest by day. She +will go home to her parents, and they will not know her, but will +think we have sent them a smallpox patient by mistake. Her eyes--" + +"Oh, hush! hush, Massachusetts!" cried Maine. "Oh! poor thing! poor +thing! what shall I do? I feel as if it were all my fault, somehow." + +"Your fault that she sneaked and eavesdropped, and then stole your +decoration? Oh! come, Maine, don't be fantastic!" + +"No, Massachusetts, I don't mean that. But if I had only known, +myself, what they were, I should never have spoken of them, and all +this would never have happened." + +"The moral of which is, study botany!" said Massachusetts. + +"I'll begin to-morrow!" said Maine. + + * * * * * + +"And what is to be the end of the dogwood story, I wonder!" said +Tennessee, meeting Massachusetts in a breathless interval between +two exercises on the School Birthday, the crowning event of the +Harvest Festivities at Miss Wayland's. "Have you heard the last +chapter?" + +"No! what is it?" + +"Maine is in a dark room with the moaning Thing that was Chicago, +singing to her, and telling her about the speeches and things last +night. She vows she will not come out again to-day, just because she +was at chapel and heard the singing this morning; says that was the +best of it, and she doesn't care much about dancing. Maine! and +Miss Wayland will not let us break in the door and carry her off +bodily; says she will be happier where she is, and will always be +glad of this day. I'll tell you what it is, Massachusetts, if this +is the New England conscience I hear so much about, I'm precious +glad I was born in Tennessee." + +"No, you aren't, Old One! you wish you had been born in Maine." + +"Well, perhaps I do!" said Tennessee. + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Green Satin Gown, by Laura E. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/8grst10.zip b/old/8grst10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4d8019 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8grst10.zip diff --git a/old/8grst10h.htm b/old/8grst10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..209fb44 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8grst10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3656 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>THE GREEN SATIN GOWN</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- +body {margin:10%; text-align:justify} +img {border: 0;} +blockquote {font-size:14pt} +P {font-size:14pt} +--> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Green Satin Gown, by Laura E. Richards + +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: The Green Satin Gown + +Author: Laura E. Richards + +Release Date: November, 2005 [EBook #9397] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on September 29, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREEN SATIN GOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Robert Prince, David Widger +and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + +</pre> + + +<center> +<h1>THE GREEN SATIN GOWN</h1> +<br><br> +<h2>BY LAURA E. RICHARDS</h2> +<br><br> +<h4><i>Author of</i><br> "Captain January," "Melody," "Three Margarets,"<br> +"Peggy," "Queen Hildegarde," etc., etc.</h4> +<br><br> +<h2> +Illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry</h2> + +<br><br><br><br> + + + +<h2>1903</h2> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<p><i> +TO <br> +THE GIRLS OF <br> +The Friday Club of Gardiner, Maine <br> +THIS VOLUME <br> +IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED</i></p> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<a name="frontis"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="wfrontis.jpg (133K)" src="wfrontis.jpg" height="1079" width="672"> +</center> +<br><br> +<br><br> + + +<h2> +CONTENTS</h2> + +<p> +<a href="#green">THE GREEN SATIN GOWN</a></p> + +<p><a href="#egypt">BLUE EGYPTIANS</a></p> + +<p><a href="#ben">LITTLE BENJAMIN</a></p> + +<p><a href="#alonzo">DON ALONZO</a></p> + +<p><a href="#shed">THE SHED CHAMBER</a></p> + +<p><a href="#maine">MAINE TO THE RESCUE</a></p> + +<p><a href="#scarlet">THE SCARLET LEAVES</a></p> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<h2> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<p> +"<a href="#frontis">THE FIRST TITTER PUT A FIRE IN MY VEINS THAT KEPT ME WARM ALL THE + EVENING</a>"</p> + +<p><a href="#sleeve">"GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP AGAIN"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#white">"'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; AND—IT'S CRYING!'"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#father">"'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#drift">"MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT"</a></p> + +<p><a href="#conference">THE CONFERENCE</a></p> + +<br><br> +<a name="green"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +THE GREEN SATIN GOWN</h2> +</center> +<br> +<p> +Who ever wore such a queer-looking thing? I wore it myself, dear, +once upon a time; yes, I did! Perhaps you would like to hear about it, +while you mend that tear in your muslin. Sit down, then, and let us +be cosy.</p> + +<p>I was making a visit in Hillton once, when I was seventeen years old, +just your age; staying with dear old Miss Persis Elderby, who is now +dead. I have told you about her, and it is strange that I have never +told you the story of the green satin gown; but, indeed, it is years +since I looked at it. We were great friends, Miss Persis and I; and +we never thought much about the difference in our ages, for she was +young for her years, and I was old for mine. In our daily walk +through the pretty, sleepy Hillton street—we always went for the +mail, together, for though Miss Persis seldom received letters, she +always liked to see mine, and it was quite the event of the day—my +good friend seldom failed to point out to me a stately mansion that +stood by itself on a little height, and to say in a tone of pride, +"The Le Baron place, my dear; the finest place in the county. Madam +Le Baron, who lives there alone now, is as great a lady as any in +Europe, though she wears no coronet to her name."</p> + +<p>I never knew exactly what Miss Persis meant by this last remark, but +it sounded magnificent, and I always gazed respectfully at the gray +stone house which sheltered so grand a personage. Madam Le Baron, it +appeared, never left the house in winter, and this was January. Her +friends called on her at stated intervals, and, to judge from +Miss Persis, never failed to come away in a state of reverential +enthusiasm. I could not help picturing to myself the great lady as +about six feet tall, clad in purple velvet, and waving a +peacock-feather fan; but I never confided my imaginings even to the +sympathetic Miss Persis.</p> + +<p>One day my friend returned from a visit to the stone house, quite +breathless, her pretty old face pink with excitement. She sat down +on the chair nearest the door, and gazed at me with, speechless +emotion.</p> + +<p>"Dear Miss Persis!" I cried. "What has happened? Have you had bad +news?"</p> + +<p>Miss Persis shook her head. "Bad news? I should think not, indeed! +Child, Madam Le Baron wishes to see you. More I cannot say at present. +Not a word! Put on your best hat, and come with me. Madam Le Baron +waits for us!"</p> + +<p>It was as if she had said, "The Sultan is on the front door-step." I +flew up-stairs, and made myself as smart as I could in such a hurry. +My cheeks were as pink as Miss Persis's own, and though I had not +the faintest idea what was the matter, I felt that it must be +something of vital import. On the way, I begged my companion to +explain matters to me, but she only shook her head and trotted on the +faster. "No time!" she panted. "Speech delays me, my dear! All will +be explained; only make haste."</p> + +<p>We made such haste, that by the time we rang at the door of the +stone house neither of us could speak, and Miss Persis could only +make a mute gesture to the dignified maid who opened the door, and +who looked amazed, as well she might, at our burning cheeks and +disordered appearance. Fortunately, she knew Miss Persis well, and +lost no time in ushering us into a cool, dimly lighted parlor, hung +with family portraits. Here we sat, and fanned ourselves with our +pocket-handkerchiefs, while I tried to find breath for a question; +but there was not time! A door opened at the further end of the room; +there was a soft rustle, a smell of sandal-wood in the air. The next +moment Madam Le Baron stood before us. A slender figure, about my +own height, in a quaint, old-fashioned dress; snowy hair, arranged +in puff on puff, with exquisite nicety; the darkest, softest eyes I +ever saw, and a general air of having left her crown in the next room; +this was the great lady.</p> + +<p>We rose, and I made my best courtesy,—we courtesied then, my dear, +instead of bowing like pump-handles,—and she spoke to us in a soft +old voice, that rustled like the silk she wore, though it had a clear +sound, too. "So this is the child!" she said. "I trust you are very +well, my dear! And has Miss Elderby told you of the small particular +in which you can oblige me?"</p> + +<p>Miss Persis hastened to say that she wasted no time on explanations, +but had brought me as quickly as might be, thinking that the main +thing. Madam Le Baron nodded, and smiled a little; then she turned +to me; a few quiet words, and I knew all about it. She had received +that morning a note from her grandniece, "a young and giddy person," +who lived in B——, some twenty miles away, announcing that she and +a party of friends were about to drive over to Hillton to see the +old house. She felt sure that her dear aunt would be enchanted to +see them, as it must be "quite too forlorn for her, all alone in +that great barn;" so she might expect them the next evening (that is, +the evening of this very day), in time for supper, and no doubt as +hungry as hunters. There would be about a dozen of them, probably, +but she knew there was plenty of room at Birchwood, and it would be +a good thing to fill up the empty rooms for once in a way; so, +looking forward to a pleasant meeting, the writer remained her +dearest aunt's "affectionate niece, Effie Gay."</p> + +<p>"The child has no mother," said Madam Le Baron to Miss Persis; then +turning to me, she said: "I am alone, save for my two maids, who are +of middle age, and not accustomed to youthful visitors. Learning +from my good friend, Miss Elderby, that a young gentlewoman was +staying at her house, I conceived the idea of asking you to spend +the night with me, and such portion of the next day as my guests may +remain. If you are willing to do me this service, my dear, you may +put off your bonnet, and I will send for your evening dress and your +toilet necessaries."</p> + +<p>I had been listening in a dream, hearing what was said, but thinking +it all like a fairy story, chiefly impressed by the fact that the +speaker was the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. +The last sentence, however, brought me to my senses with a vengeance. +With scarlet cheeks I explained that I had brought no evening dress +with me; that I lived a very quiet life at home, and had expected +nothing different here; that, to be quite frank, I had not such a +thing as an evening dress in the world. Miss Persis turned pale with +distress and mortification; but Madam Le Baron looked at me quietly, +with her lovely smile.</p> + +<p>"I will provide you with a suitable dress, my child," she said. +"I have something that will do very well for you. If you like to go +to your room now, my maid will attend you, and bring what is +necessary. We expect our guests in time for supper, at eight o'clock."</p> + +<p>Decidedly, I had walked into a fairy tale, or else I was dreaming! +Here I sat in a room hung with flowered damask, in a wonderful chair, +by a wonderful fire; and a fairy, little and withered and brown, +dressed in what I knew must be black bombazine, though I knew it +only from descriptions, was bringing me tea, and plum-cake, on a +silver tray. She looked at me with kind, twinkling eyes, and said +she would bring the dress at once; then left me to my own wondering +fancies. I hardly knew what to be thinking of, so much was happening: +more, it seemed, in these few hours, than in all my life before. I +tried to fix my mind on the gay party that would soon fill the silent +house with life and tumult; I tried to fancy how Miss Effie Gay +would look, and what she would say to me; but my mind kept coming +back to the dress, the evening dress, that I was to be privileged to +wear. What would it be like? Would silk or muslin be prettier? If +only it were not pink! A red-haired girl in pink was a sad sight!</p> + +<p>Looking up, I saw a portrait on the wall, of a beautiful girl, in a +curious, old-time costume. The soft dark eyes and regal turn of the +head told me that it was my hostess in her youth; and even as I +looked, I heard the rustle again, and smelt the faint odor of +sandalwood; and Madam Le Baron came softly in, followed by the fairy +maid, bearing a long parcel.</p> + +<p>"Your gown, my dear," she said, "I thought you would like to be +preparing for the evening. Undo it, Jessop!"</p> + +<p>Jessop lifted fold on fold of tissue-paper. I looked, expecting I +know not what fairy thing of lace and muslin: I saw—the green satin +gown!</p> + +<p>We were wearing large sleeves then, something like yours at the +present day, and high collars; the fashion was at its height. This +gown had long, tight, wrinkled sleeves, coming down over the hand, +and finished with a ruffle of yellow lace; the neck, rounded and +half-low, had a similar ruffle almost deep enough to be called a ruff; +the waist, if it could be called a waist, was up under the arms: +briefly, a costume of my grandmother's time. Little green satin +slippers lay beside it, and a huge feather-fan hung by a green ribbon. +Was this a jest? was it—I looked up, with burning cheeks and eyes +suffused; I met a glance so kind, so beaming with good-will, that my +eyes fell, and I could only hope that my anguish had not been visible.</p> + +<p>"Shall Jessop help you, my dear?" said Madam Le Baron. "You can do +it by yourself? Well, I like to see the young independent. I think +the gown will become you; it has been considered handsome." She +glanced fondly at the shining fabric, and left the room; the maid, +after one sharp glance at me, in which I thought I read an amused +compassion, followed; and I was left alone with the green satin gown.</p> + +<p>Cry? No, I did not cry: I had been brought up not to cry; but I +suffered, my dear, as one does suffer at seventeen. I thought of +jumping out of the window and running away, back to Miss Persis; I +thought of going to bed, and saying I was ill. It was true, I said +to myself, with feverish violence: I <i>was</i> ill, sick with shame and +mortification and disappointment. Appear before this gay party, +dressed like my own great-grandmother? I would rather die! A person +might easily die of such distress as this—and so on, and so on!</p> + +<p>Suddenly, like a cool touch on my brow, came a thought, a word of my +Uncle John's, that had helped me many a time before.</p> + +<p>"Endeavor, my dear, to maintain a sense of proportion!"</p> + +<p>The words fell with weight on my distracted mind. I sat up straight +in the armchair into which I had flung myself, face downward. Was +there any proportion in this horror? I shook myself, then put the +two sides together, and looked at them. On one side, two lovely old +ladies, one of whom I could perhaps help a little, both of whom I +could gratify; on the other, my own—dear me! was it vanity? I +thought of the two sweet old faces, shining with kindness; I fancied +the distress, the disappointment, that might come into them, if I—</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear uncle," I said aloud, "I have found the proportion!" I +shook myself again, and began to dress. And now a happy thought +struck me. Glancing at the portrait on the wall, I saw that the fair +girl was dressed in green. Was it? Yes, it must be—it was—the very +same dress! Quickly, and as neatly as I could, I arranged my hair in +two great puffs, with a butterfly knot on the top of my head, in the +style of the picture; if only I had the high comb! I slipped on the +gown, which fitted me well enough. I put on the slippers, and tied +the green ribbons round and round my ankles; then I lighted all the +candles, and looked at myself. A perfect guy? Well, perhaps—and +yet—</p> + +<p>At this moment Jessop entered, bringing a pair of yellow gloves; she +looked me over critically, saying nothing; glanced at the portrait, +withdrew, and presently reappeared, with the high tortoise-shell +comb in her hand. She placed it carefully in my hair, surveyed me +again, and again looked at the picture. Yes, it was true, the +necklace was wanting; but of course—</p> + +<p>Really, Jessop was behaving like a jack-in-the-box! She had +disappeared again, and now here she was for the third time; but this +time Madam Le Baron was with her. The old lady looked at me silently, +at my hair, then up at the picture. The sight of the pleasure in her +lovely face trampled under foot, put out of existence, the last +remnant of my foolish pride.</p> + +<p>She turned to Jessop and nodded. "Yes, by all means!" she said. The +maid put into her hand a long morocco box; Madam kissed me, and with +soft, trembling fingers clasped the necklace round my neck. +"It is a graceful compliment you pay me, my child," she said, +glancing at the picture again, with eyes a little dimmed. "Oblige me +by wearing this, to complete the vision of my past youth."</p> + +<p>Ten stars of chrysoprase, the purest and tenderest green in the world, +set in delicately wrought gold. I need not describe the necklace to +you. You think it the most beautiful jewel in the world, and so do I; +and I have promised that you shall wear it on your eighteenth +birthday.</p> + +<p>Madam Le Baron saw nothing singular in my appearance. She never +changed the fashion of her dress, being of the opinion, as she told +me afterward, that a gentlewoman's dress is her own affair, not her +mantua-maker's; and her gray and silver brocade went very well with +the green satin. We stood side by side for a moment, gazing into the +long, dim mirror; then she patted my shoulder and gave a little sigh.</p> + +<p>"Your auburn hair looks well with the green," she said. "My hair was +dark, but otherwise—Shall we go down, my dear?"</p> + +<p>I will not say much about the evening. It was painful, of course; +but Effie Gay had no mother, and much must be pardoned in such a case. +No doubt I made a quaint figure enough among the six or eight gay +girls, all dressed in the latest fashion; but the first moment was +the worst, and the first titter put a fire in my veins that kept me +warm all the evening. An occasional glance at Madam Le Baron's +placid face enabled me to preserve my sense of proportion, and I +remembered that two wise men, Solomon and my Uncle John, had +compared the laughter of fools to the crackling of thorns under a pot. +And—and there were some who did not laugh.</p> + +<p>Pin it up, my dear! Your father has come, and will be wanting his tea.</p> + +<p>I can tell you the rest of the story in a few words.</p> + +<p>A year from that time Madam Le Baron died; and a few weeks after her +death, a parcel came for me from Hillton.</p> + +<p>Opening it in great wonder, what did I find but the gown, the green +satin gown, with the slippers and fan, and the tortoise-shell comb +in a leather case! Lifting it reverently from the box, the dress felt +singularly heavy on my arm, and a moment's search revealed a strange +matter. The pocket was full of gold pieces, shining half-eagles, +which fell about me in a golden shower, and made me cry out with +amazement; but this was not all! The tears sprang to my eyes as I +opened the morocco box and took out the chrysoprase necklace: tears +partly of gratitude and pleasure, partly of sheer kindness and love +and sorrow for the sweet, stately lady who had thought of me in her +closing days, and had found (they told me afterward) one of her last +pleasures in planning this surprise for me.</p> + +<p>There is something more that I might say, my dear. Your dear father +was one of that gay sleighing party; and he often speaks of the +first time he saw me—when I was coming down the stairs in the green +satin gown.</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="egypt"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +BLUE EGYPTIANS</h2> <a href="#foot1">[1]</a> +<br><br> +<h3> +A PAPER-MILL STORY</h3></center> +<br> +<p>"I wouldn't, Lena!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess I shall!"</p> + +<p>"Don't, Lena! please don't! you will be sorry, I am sure, if you do +it. It cannot bring good, I know it cannot!"</p> + +<p>"The idea! Mary Denison, you are too old-fashioned for anything. I'd +like to know what harm it can do."</p> + +<p>The rag-room was nearly deserted. The whistle had blown, and most of +the girls had hurried away to their dinner. Two only lingered behind, +deep in conversation; Mary Denison and Lena Laxen.</p> + +<p>Mary was sitting by her sorting-table, busily sorting rags as she +talked. She was a fair, slender girl, and looked wonderfully fresh +and trim in her gray print gown, with a cap of the same material +fitting close to her head, and hiding her pretty hair. The other +girl was dark and vivacious, with laughing black eyes and a careless +mouth. She was picturesque enough in her blue dress, with the +scarlet handkerchief tied loosely over her hair; but both kerchief +and dress showed the dust plainly, and the dark locks that escaped +here and there were dusty too, showing little of the care that may +keep one neat even in a rag-room.</p> + +<p>"It's just as pretty as it can be!" Lena went on, half-coaxing, +half-defiant. "You ought to see it, Mame! A silk waist, every bit as +good as new, only of course it's mussed up, lying in the bag; and a +skirt, and lots of other things, all as nice as nice! I can't think +what the folks that had them meant, putting such things into the rags: +why, that waist hadn't much more than come out of the shop, you +might say. And do you think I'm going to let it go through the duster, +and then be thrown out, and somebody else get it? No, sir! and it's +no good for rags, you know it isn't, Mary Denison."</p> + +<p>"I know that it is not yours, Lena, nor mine!" said Mary, steadily. +"But I'll tell you what you might do; go straight to Mr. Gordon, and +tell him about the pretty waist,—very likely it got in by mistake, +—tell him it is no good for rags, and ask if you may have it. Like +as not he'll let you have it; and if not, you will find out what his +reason is. I think we ought to suppose he has some reason for what +he does."</p> + +<p>Lena laughed spitefully.</p> + +<p>"Like as not he's going to take it home to his own girl!" she said. +"I saw her in the street the other day, and I wouldn't have been +seen dead with the hat she had on; not a flower, nor even a scrap of +a feather; just a plain band and a goose-quill stuck in it. Real +poorhouse, I thought it looked, and he as rich as a Jew. I guess I +sha'n't go to Mr. Gordon; he's just as hateful as he can be. He gave +out word that no one was to touch that bag, nor so much as go near it; +and he had it set off in a corner of the outer shed, close by the +chloride barrels, so that everything in it will smell like poison. +If that isn't mean, I don't know what is.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't stay here all day, Mame. Aren't you coming?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty soon!" said Mary. "Don't wait for me, Lena! I want to finish +this stint, so as to have the afternoon off. Mother's poorly to-day, +and I want to cook something nice for her supper."</p> + +<p>Lena nodded and went out, shutting the door with a defiant swing. +Mary looked after her doubtfully, as if hesitating whether she ought +not to follow and make some stronger plea; but the next moment she +bent over her work again.</p> + +<p>"I must hurry!" she said. "I'll see Lena after dinner, and try to +make her promise not to touch that bag. I don't see what has got +into her."</p> + +<p>Mary worked away steadily. The rags were piled in an iron sieve +before her; they were mostly the kind called "Blue Egyptians," +cotton cloth dyed with indigo, which had come far across the sea from +Egypt. Musty and fusty enough they were, and Mary often turned her +head aside as she sorted them carefully, putting the good rags into +a huge basket that stood beside her on the floor, while the bits of +woollen cloth, of paper and string and other refuse, went into +different compartments of the sorting-table, which was something +like an old-fashioned box-desk.</p> + +<p>Mary was a quick worker, and her basket was already nearly full of +rags. Fastened upright beside her seat was a great knife, not unlike +a scythe-blade, with which she cut off the buttons and hooks and eyes, +running the garment along the keen edge with a quick and practised +hand. Usually she amused herself by imagining stories about the +buttons and their former owners, for she was a fanciful girl, and +her child-life, without brothers or sisters, had bred in her the +habit of solitary play and "make-believe," which clung to her now +that she was a tall girl of sixteen. But to-day she was not thinking +of the Blue Egyptians. Her thoughts were following Lena on her +homeward way, and she was hoping devoutly that her own words might +have had some effect, and that Lena might pass by the forbidden bag +without lingering to be further tempted. It <i>was</i> strange that this +one special bundle of rags, coming from a village at some distance, +should have been kept apart when the day's allowance was put into +the dusters. But—"Mother always says we ought to suppose there is a +reason for things!" she said to herself. And she shook her head +resolutely, and tried to make a "button-play."</p> + +<p>She pulled from the heap before her a dark blue garment, and turned +it over, examining it carefully. It seemed to be a woman's jacket. +It was of finer material than most of the "Egyptians," and the +fashion was quaint and graceful. There were remnants of embroidery +here and there, and the heavy glass buttons were like nothing Mary +had ever seen before.</p> + +<p>"I'll keep these," she said, "for little Jessie Brown; she will be +delighted with them. That child does make so much out of so little, +I'm fairly ashamed sometimes. These will be a fortune to Jessie. +I'll tell her that I think most likely they belonged to a princess +when they were new; they were up and down the front of a dress of +gold cloth trimmed with pearls, and she looked perfectly beautiful +when she had it on, and the Prince of the Fortunate Islands fell in +love with her."</p> + +<p>Buttons were a regular perquisite of the rag-girls in the Cumquot +Mill; indeed, any trifle, coin, or seal, or medal, was considered +the property of the finder, this being an unwritten law of the +rag-room.</p> + +<p>Mary cut the buttons off, and slipped them into her pocket; then she +ran her fingers round the edge of the jacket, in case there were any +hooks or other hard substance that had escaped her notice, and that +might blunt the knives of the cutter, into which it would next go.</p> + +<p>In a corner of the lining, her fingers met something hard. Here was +some object that had slipped down between the stuff and the lining, +and must be cut out. Mary ran the jacket along the cutting-knife, +and something rolled into her lap. Not a button this time! she held +it up to the light, and examined it curiously. It was a brooch, of +glass, or clear stones, in a tarnished silver setting. Dim and dusty, +it still seemed full of light, and glanced in the sun as Mary held +it up.</p> + +<p>"What a pretty thing!" she said. "I wonder if it is glass. I must +take this to Mr. Gordon, for I never found anything like it before. +Jessie cannot have this."</p> + +<p>She laid it carefully aside, and went on with her sorting, working +so quickly that in a few moments the sieve was empty, and the basket +piled with good cotton rags, ready for the cutting-machine.</p> + +<p>Taking her hat and shawl, Mary passed out, holding the brooch +carefully in her hand. There were few people in the mill, only the +machine-tenders, walking leisurely up and down beside their machines, +which whirred and droned on, regardless of dinnertime. The great +rollers went round and round, the broad white streams flowed on and +on over the screens, till the mysterious moment came when they +ceased to be wet pulp and became paper.</p> + +<p>Mary hardly glanced at the wonderful machines; they were an old +story to her, though in every throb they were telling over and over +the marvellous works of man. The machine-tenders nodded kindly in +return to her modest greeting, and looked after her with approval, +and said, "Nice gal!" to each other; but Mary hurried on until she +came to the finishing-room. Here she hoped to find a friend whom she +could consult about her discovery; and, sure enough, old James +Gregory was sitting on his accustomed stool, tying bundles of paper +with the perfection that no one else could equal. His back was +turned to the door, and he was crooning a fragment of an old +paper-mill song, which might have been composed by the beating +engine itself, so rhythmic and monotonous it was.</p> +<center> +<table summary="poem"> +<tr><td> +<p> + "'Gene, 'Gene,<br> + Made a machine;<br> + Joe, Joe,<br> + Made it go;<br> + Frank, Frank,<br> + Turned the crank,<br> + His mother came out,<br> + And gave him a spank,<br> + And knocked him over<br> + The garden bank."</p> +</td></tr> +</table></center> +<p> +At Mary's cheerful "Good morning, Mr. Gregory!" the old man turned +slowly, and looked at the young girl with friendly eyes.</p> + +<p>"Good day, Mary! glad to see ye! goin' along home?"</p> + +<p>"In just a minute! I want to show you something, Mr. Gregory, and to +ask your advice, please."</p> + +<p>The old finisher turned completely round this time, and looked his +interest. Mary opened her hand, and displayed the brooch she had +found.</p> + +<p>James Gregory drew his lips into the form of a whistle, but made no +sound. He looked from the brooch to Mary, and back again.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I found it in the rags; blue Egyptians, you know, Mr. Gregory. It +was inside the lining of a jacket. Do you think—what do you think +about it? is it glass, or—something else?"</p> + +<p>Gregory took the ornament from her, and held it up to the light, +screwing his eyes to little points of light; then he polished it on +his sleeve, and held it up again.</p> + +<a name="sleeve"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="1w_Sleeve.jpg (110K)" src="1w_Sleeve.jpg" height="1084" width="677"> +<br> +<p>["GREGORY POLISHED IT ON HIS SLEEVE, AND HELD IT UP AGAIN."]</p> +</center> +<br><br> + +<p>"Something else!" he said, briefly.</p> + +<p>"Is it—do you think it might be worth something, Mr. Gregory?" +asked Mary, rather timidly.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" roared Gregory, with a sudden explosion. "I do! I b'lieve +them's di'monds, sure as here I sit. Mary Denison, you've struck it +this time, or I'm a Dutchman."</p> + +<p>He got off his stool in great excitement, and walked up and down the +room, still holding the brooch in his hand. Mary looked after him, +and her face was very pale. She said one word softly, "Mother!" that +was all.</p> + +<p>Mary Denison and her mother were poor. Mrs. Denison was far from +strong, and they had no easy time of it, for there was little save +Mary's wages to feed and clothe the two women and pay their rent. +James Gregory knew all this; his pale old face was lighted with +emotion, and he stumped up and down the room at a rapid pace.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he stopped, and faced the anxious girl, who was following +him with bewildered eyes.</p> + +<p>"Findin's havin'!" he said, abruptly. "That's paper-mill law. Some +folks would tell ye to keep this to yourself, and sell it for what +you could get."</p> + +<p>Mary's face flushed.</p> + +<p>"But you do not tell me that!" she said, quietly.</p> + +<p>"No!" roared the old man, with another explosion, stamping violently +on the floor. "No, I don't. You're poor as spring snakes, and your +mother's sickly, and you've hard work to get enough to keep the +flesh on your bones; but I don't tell ye to do that. I tell ye to +take it straight to the Old Man, and tell him where ye found it, and +all about it. I've knowed him ever since his mustash growed, and +before. You go straight to him! He's in the office now."</p> + +<p>"I was going!" said Mary, simply. "I thought I'd come and see you +first, Mr. Gregory, you've always been so good to mother and me. +You—you couldn't manage to come with me, could you? I am afraid of +Mr. Gordon; I can't help it, though he is always pleasant to me."</p> + +<p>"I'll go!" said old James, with alacrity. "You come right along with +me!"</p> + +<p>In his eagerness he seized Mary by the arm, and kept his hold on her +as they passed out through the mill. The few "hands" who were at +work here and there gazed after them in amazement; for the old man +was dragging the girl along as if he had caught her in some offence, +and was going to deliver her up to justice.</p> + +<p>The same impression was made in the office, when the pair appeared +there. The two clerks stared open-mouthed, and judged after their +nature; for one of them said, instantly, to himself, "It's a mistake!" +while the other said, "I always knew that Denison girl was too pious +to last!"</p> + +<p>A tall man who sat at a desk in the corner looked up quietly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Gregory!" he said. "What is it? Mary Denison? Good morning, Mary! +Anything wrong in the rag-room?"</p> + +<p>Gregory waved his hat excitedly.</p> + +<p>"If you'd look here, sir!" he said. "If you would just cast your eye +over that article, and tell this gal what you think of it! Blue +Egyptians, sir! luckiest rags that ever come into this mill, I've +always said. Well, sir?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon was not easily stirred to excitement. It seemed an age to +the anxious girl and the impetuous old man, as he turned the brooch +over and over, holding it up in every light, polishing it, breathing +on it, then polishing it again. Gregory's hands twitched with +eagerness, and Mary felt almost faint with suspense.</p> + +<p>"You found this in the rags?" he asked at length, turning to Mary. +He spoke in his ordinary even tone, and Mary's heart sank, she could +not have told why.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir!" she faltered. "I found it in a blue jacket. It was in +between the stuff and the lining. There were glass buttons on the +jacket."</p> + +<p>She drew them from her pocket and held them out; but Mr. Gordon, +after a glance, waved them back.</p> + +<p>"Those are of no value!" he said. "About this brooch, I am not so +sure. The stones may be real stones—I incline to think they are; +but it is possible that they may be paste. The imitations are +sometimes very perfect; no one but a jeweller can tell positively. I +will take it to Boston with me to-morrow, and have it examined."</p> + +<p>He dropped the brooch into a drawer at his side, turned the key and +put it in his pocket, all in his quiet, methodical way, as if he +were in the habit of examining diamond brooches every day; then he +nodded kindly to the pair, and bent over his papers again.</p> + +<p>Mary went out silently, and Gregory followed her with a dazed look +on his strong features. He looked back at the door two or three times, +but said nothing till they were back in the finishing-room.</p> + +<p>Then—"It's one of his days!" he said. "I've knowed him ever since +his mustash growed, and there's days when he's struck with a dumb +sperit, just like Scriptur'. Don't you fret, Mary! He'll see you +righted, or I'll give you my head."</p> + +<p>Mary might have thought that Mr. Gregory's head would be of little +use to her without the rest of him. She felt sadly dashed and +disappointed. She hardly knew what she had expected, but it was +something very different from this calm, every-day reception, this +total disregard of her own and her companion's excitement.</p> + +<p>"I guess he thinks they're nothing great!" she said, wearily. +"What was that he said about paste, Mr. Gregory? You never saw any +paste like that, did you?</p> + +<p>"No!" said Gregory, "I've heered of Di'mond Glue, but 'twan't +nothin' like stones—nor glass neither. You may run me through the +calenders if I know what he's drivin' at. But I'll trust him!" he +added, vehemently. "I done right to tell you to go to him. He's in +one of his moods to-day, but you'll hear from him, if there's +anything to hear, now mark my words! And now I'd go home, if I was +you, and see your ma'am, and get your dinner. And—Mary—I dono as +I'd say anything about this, if I was you. Things get round so in a +mill, ye know."</p> + +<p>Mary nodded assurance, and went home, trying to feel that nothing of +importance had happened. Do what she would, however, the golden +visions would come dancing before her eyes. Suppose—suppose the +stones should be real, after all! and suppose Mr. Gordon should give +her a part, at least, of the money they might bring in Boston. It +might—she knew diamonds were valuable—it might be thirty or forty +dollars. Oh! how rich she would be! The rent could be paid some time +in advance, and her mother could have the new shawl she needed so +badly: or would a cloak be better? cloaks were more in fashion, but +Mother said a good shawl was always good style.</p> + +<p>Turning the corner by her mother's house, she met one of the clerks +who had been in the office when she went in there. He looked at her +with the smile she always disliked, she hardly knew why.</p> + +<p>"You did the wrong thing that time, Miss Denison!" he said.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Mr. Hitchcock?" asked Mary.</p> + +<p>"You'll never see your diamonds again, nor the money for them!" +replied the man. "That's easy guessing. He'll come back and tell you +they're glass or paste, and that's the last you'll hear of them. And +the diamonds—for they are diamonds, right enough—will go into his +pocket, or on to his wife's neck. I know what's what! I wasn't born +down in these parts."</p> + +<p>"You don't know Mr. Gordon!" said Mary, warmly. "That isn't the way +he is thought of by those who do know him."</p> + +<p>The clerk was a newcomer from another State, and was not liked by +the mill-workers.</p> + +<p>"I know his kind!" he said, with a sneer; "and they're no good to +your kind, Mary Denison, nor to mine. Mark my words, you'll hear no +more of that breastpin."</p> + +<p>Mary turned away so decidedly that he said no more, but his eyes +followed her with a sinister look.</p> + +<p>Next moment he was greeting Lena Laxen cordially, and she was +dimpling and smiling all over at his compliments. Lena thought +Mr. Hitchcock "just elegant!" and believed that Mary was jealous when +she said she did not like him. Something now prompted her to tell +him about the silk waist in the forbidden sack; he took her view at +once and zealously. The boss (for he did not use the kindly title of +"Old Man," by which the other mill-hands designated Mr. Gordon, +though he was barely forty) had his eye on the things, most likely, +as he had on the pin Mary Denison found. Hadn't Lena heard about that? +Well, it was a burning shame, he could tell her; he would see that +she, Lena, wasn't fooled that way. And Lena, listening eagerly, +heard a story very different from that which had been told to +Mr. Gordon.</p> + +<p>In an hour the whole mill knew that Mary Denison had found a diamond +pin in the rags, and that Mr. Gordon had told her it was nothing but +hard glue, and had sold it himself in Boston for a thousand dollars, +and spent the money on a new horse.</p> + +<p>Nor was this all! Late that evening Lena Laxen stole from her home +with a shawl over her head, and met the clerk by the corner of the +outer shed. A few minutes of whispering and giggling, and she stole +back, with a bundle under her shawl; while Hitchcock tied a bright +silk handkerchief round his neck, and strutted off with the air of a +conqueror.</p> + +<p>Next morning, as Mary Denison was going to her work, Lena rapped on +the window, and called her attention by signs to the bodice she had +on. It was a gay striped silk, little worn, but still showing, in +spite of pressing, the marks of crumpling and tossing. The bright +colors suited Lena's dark skin well, and as she stood there with +flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, Mary thought she had never seen +her look prettier. At first she nodded and smiled in approval; but +the next moment a thought darted into her mind that made her clasp +her hands, and cry anxiously:</p> + +<p>"Oh! Lena, you didn't do it! you never did it! it's not <i>that</i> waist +you have on?"</p> + +<p>Lena affected not to hear. She only nodded and laughed triumphantly, +and turned away, leaving Mary standing pale and distressed outside +the window.</p> + +<p>Mary hesitated. Should she go in and reason further with the wilful +girl, and try to persuade her to restore the stolen garment? +Something told her it would be useless; but still she was on the +point of going in, when old James Gregory came by, and asked her to +walk on with him.</p> + +<p>She complied, but not without an anxious look back at the window, +where no one was now to be seen.</p> + +<p>"Well, May," said Gregory, "how're ye feelin' to-day? hearty? that's +clever! I hope you wasn't frettin' about that pin any. Most girls +would, but you ain't the fool kind."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Mr. Gregory!" said Mary, laughing. "I'm afraid I have +thought about it more or less, but I haven't been fretting. Where's +the use?"</p> + +<p>"Jes' so! jes' so!" assented the old man, with alacrity.</p> + +<p>"And I didn't say anything to Mother," Mary went on. "I didn't want +her to know about it unless something was really coming of it. Poor +Mother! she has enough to think about."</p> + +<p>"She has so!" said Gregory. "A sight o' thinkin' your mother doos, +Mary, and good thoughts, every one of 'em, I'll bet my next pay. +She's a good woman, your mother; I guess likely you know it without +me sayin' so. I call Susan Denison the best woman I know, and I've +told my wife so, more times than she says she has any occasion for. +I don't say she's an angel, but she's a good woman, and that's as fur +as we're likely to get in this world.</p> + +<p>"But that ain't what I wanted to say to you, May! Somehow or 'nother, +the story's got round about your findin' that pin yesterday. You +didn't say nothin'?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word!" said Mary. "How could it—"</p> + +<p>"'Twas that pison Hitchcock, I expect!" said Gregory. "I see him +lookin' up with his little eyes, as red as a ferret, and as ugly. I +bet he started the hull thing; and he's tacked on a passel of lies, +and the endurin' place is hummin' with it. Thought I'd tell ye +before ye went in, so's ye could fix up a little what to say."</p> + +<p>Mary thanked him cordially, and passed on into the mill: the old man +looked after her with a very friendly glance in his keen blue eyes.</p> + +<p>"She's good stuff, May is!" he murmured. "Good stuff, like her mother.</p> + +<p>"Folks is like rags, however you look at 'em. Take a good linen rag, +no matter how black it is, and put it through the washers, and the +bleachers, and the cutters, and all the time it's gettin' whiter and +whiter, and sweeter and sweeter, the more you bang it round; till at +last you have bank-note paper, and write to the Queen of England on +it, if you're a mind to, and she won't have none better. And take +jute or shoddy, and the minute you touch to wash it, it cockles up, +or drops to pieces, and it ain't no good to mortal man. Jest like +folks, I tell ye! and May and her mother's pure linen clippin's, if +ever I see 'em."</p> + +<p>Forewarned is forearmed, and Mary met quietly the buzz of inquiry +that greeted her when she entered the rag-room. The girls crowded +round her, the men were not far behind. To each and all Mary told the +simple truth, trying not to say a word too much. "The tongue is a +fire!" her mother's favorite text, was constantly in her mind, and +she was determined that no ill word should be spoken of Mr. Gordon, +if she could help it. Almost every one in the mill liked and +respected the "Old Man;" but the human mind loves a sensation, and +Lena and Hitchcock had told their story so vividly the day before +that Mary's account seemed tame and dull beside it; and some of the +hands preferred to think that "Mame Denison was a sly one, and +warn't goin' to let on, fear some one'd git ahead of her."</p> + +<p>Lena, who came shortly, in her usual dress, fostered this feeling, +not from malice, but from sheer love of excitement and gossip. In +spite of Mary's efforts, the excitement increased, and when, late in +the afternoon, word came that Mary Denison was wanted in the office, +the rag-room was left fairly bubbling with wild surmise.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gordon did not see Mary when she came in. He was standing at his +desk, with an open letter in his hand, and his face was disturbed as +he spoke to the senior clerk.</p> + +<p>"Myers, it is as I feared about that bag of rags from Blankton. You +have kept it carefully tied up, and close by the chlorides, as I +told you?"</p> + +<p>Myers, a clear-eyed, honest-browed man, looked troubled.</p> + +<p>"I did, sir!" he said. "I have looked at the bag every time I passed +that way, and have cautioned every one in the mill not to go near it, +besides keeping the shed-gate locked; but this morning I found that +it had been tampered with, and evidently something taken out. I hope +there is nothing wrong, sir!"</p> + +<p>George Gordon struck his hand heavily on the desk. "Wrong!" he +repeated. "There have been two fatal cases of smallpox in Blankton, +and that bag has been traced to the house where they were."</p> + +<p>There was a moment of deathly silence. He went on:</p> + +<p>"I suspected something wrong, the moment you told me of things that +looked new and good; but I did not want to raise a panic in the mill, +when there might be some other explanation. I thought I had taken +every precaution—what is that?"</p> + +<p>He turned quickly, hearing a low cry behind him. Mary Denison was +standing with clasped hands, her face white with terror.</p> + +<p>"Mary!" said Mr. Gordon, in amazement. "You—surely you have had +nothing to do with this?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir!" cried Mary. "Oh, no, Mr. Gordon, indeed I have not. But I +fear—I fear I know who has. Oh, poor thing! poor Lena!"</p> + +<p>Then, with an impulse she could not explain, she turned suddenly +upon Hitchcock.</p> + +<p>"Who let Lena Laxen into the yard last night?" she cried. "She could +not have got in without help. You had a key—you were talking to her +after I left her yesterday. Oh! look at him, Mr. Gordon! Mr. Myers, +look at that man!"</p> + +<p>But Hitchcock did not seem to hear or heed her. He sat crouched over +his desk, his face a greenish-gray color, his eyes staring, his +hands clutching the woodwork convulsively; an awful figure of terror, +that gasped and cowered before them. Then suddenly, with a cry that +rattled in his throat, he dashed from his seat and ran bareheaded +out of the door.</p> + +<p>Myers started up to pursue him, but Mr. Gordon held up his hand.</p> + +<p>"Let him go!" he said, sternly. "It may be that he carries his +punishment with him. In any case we shall see him no more."</p> + +<p>Quickly and quietly he gave Myers his orders; to take Lena Laxen to +her home, notify the physician, and proclaim a strict quarantine; to +burn the infected rags without loss of time; to have every part of +the shed where the fatal bag had stood thoroughly disinfected. When +the man had hastened away, Mr. Gordon turned to Mary, and his stern +face lightened.</p> + +<p>"Do not distress yourself, Mary," he said, kindly. "It may be that +Lena will escape the infection; it seems that she only had the +garment on a few minutes; and you did all you could, I am sure, to +dissuade her from this piece of fatal and dishonest folly."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I might have said more!" cried Mary, in an agony of +self-reproach. "I meant to go into her house this morning, and try +to make her hear reason; it might not have been too late then."</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven you did not!" said Mr. Gordon, gravely. "The air of +the house was probably already infected. No one save the doctor must +go near that house till all danger of the disease developing is over."</p> + +<p>He then told Mary briefly why he had sent for her. Finding that he +could not go to Boston himself at present, as he had planned, he had +sent the brooch by express to a jeweller whom he knew, and would be +able to tell her in a few days whether it was of real value or not. +Mary thanked him, but his words fell almost unheeded on her ears. +What were jewels or money, in the face of a danger so awful as that +which now threatened her friend, and, through her, the whole village?</p> + +<p>Days of suspense followed. From the moment when the weeping, +agonized Lena was taken home and put, tenderly, pityingly, in her +mother's hands (it was Mr. Gordon himself who had done this, refusing +to let any other perform the duty), an invisible line was drawn +about the Laxen cottage, which few dared pass. The doctor came and +went, reporting all well to the eager questioners. Mr. Gordon called +daily to inquire, and every evening Mary Denison stole to the door +with a paper or magazine for Lena and her mother, or some home-made +delicacy that might please the imprisoned girl. Lena was usually at +the window, sometimes defiant and blustering, sometimes wild with +fright, sometimes again crying for sheer loneliness and vexation; +but always behind her was her mother's pale face of dread, and her +thin voice saying that Lena was "as well as common, thank ye," and +she and Mary would exchange glances, and Mary would go away drawing +breath, and thanking the Lord that another day was gone.</p> + +<p>So on, for nine anxious days; but on the tenth, when Mary looked up +at the window, the mother stood there alone, crying; and the doctor, +coming out of the house at the moment, told Mary harshly to keep away +from him, and not to come so near the house.</p> + +<p>In the dreadful days that followed, his people learned to know +George Gordon as they had never known him before. The grave, silent +man, who never spoke save when speech was necessary, was now among +them every day, going from room to room with cheerful greetings, +encouraging, heartening, raising the drooping spirits, and rebuking +sharply the croakers, who foretold with dismal unction a general +epidemic. While taking every possible precaution, he made light of +the actual danger, and by his presence and influence warded off the +panic which might have brought about the dreaded result.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, there were no more cases in the mill; and Lena +herself had the terrible disease more lightly than any one had dared +to hope. The doctor, hurrying through back ways and alleys to change +his clothes and take his bath of disinfectants, was hailed from back +gates and windows at every step; and he never failed to return a +cheery "Doing well! out of it soon now! No, not much marked, only a +few spots here and there."</p> + +<p>This was when he left the quarantined house; but when he sought it, +he might be seen to stop at one gate and another, picking up here a +jar, there a bowl, here again a paper bag; till by the time he +reached the Laxen gate he stood out all over with packages like a +summer Santa Claus.</p> + +<p>"There ain't anybody goin' to starve round here, if they <i>have</i> got +the smallpox!" was the general verdict, voiced by James Gregory, and +when he added, for the benefit of the mill-yard, that he had heard +Mr. Gordon order ice-cream, oranges, and oysters, all at once, for +Lena, a growl of pleasure went round, which deepened into a hearty +"What's the matter with the Old Man? <i>he's</i> all right!"</p> + +<p>At length, one happy day, Mary Denison met Mr. Gordon at the Laxens' +gate, and heard the good news that Lena was sitting up; that in a +day or two now the quarantine would be taken off, the house +disinfected, and Lena back in her place at the mill. The manager +looked with satisfaction at Mary's beaming face of happiness; then, +as she was turning away to spread the good tidings, he said:</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment, Mary! I have some other news for you. Have you +forgotten the brooch that you found in the Blue Egyptians?"</p> + +<p>The color rushed to Mary's face, and Mr. Gordon had his answer.</p> + +<p>"Because," he added, "I have not forgotten, though you might well +think I had done so. All this sad business has delayed matters, but +now I have it all arranged. I am ready to-day, Mary, to give you +either the brooch itself, or—what I think will be better—five +hundred dollars, the sum I find it to be worth. Yes, my child, I am +speaking the truth! The stones are fine ones, and the Boston +jeweller offers you that sum for them. Well, Mary, have you nothing +to say? What, crying? this will never do!"</p> + +<p>But Mary had nothing to say, and she was crying, because she could +not help it. Presently she managed to murmur something about +"Too much! too great kindness—not fair for her to have it all!" but +Mr. Gordon cut her short.</p> + +<p>"Certainly you are to have it all, every penny of it! Finding's +having! that is paper-mill law; ask James Gregory if it is not! +There comes James this moment; go and tell him of your good fortune, +and let him bring you up to my house this evening to get the money.</p> + +<p>"But, Mary,"—he glanced at a letter in his hand, and his face, +which had been bright with kindness and pleasure, grew very grave,— +"there is something else for you to tell James, and all the hands. +James Hitchcock died yesterday, of malignant smallpox!"</p> +<a name="foot1"></a><br> +<p>[Footnote 1: The main incidents in this story are founded on fact.]</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="ben"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +LITTLE BENJAMIN</h2> +<br> +<h3> "Then is little Benjamin their ruler."</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p> +"I THINK the kitty wants to come in," said Mother Golden. "I hear +him crying somewhere. Won't you go and let him in, Adam?"</p> + +<p>Adam laid down his book and went out; the whole family looked up +cheerfully, expecting to see Aladdin, the great Maltese cat, enter +with his stately port. There was a pause; then Adam came back with a +white, scared face, and looked at his father without speaking.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, my son?" asked Father Golden.</p> + +<p>"Is Kitty hurt?" asked Mother Golden, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Was it that dog of Jackson's?" cried Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph.</p> + +<p>"The cat isn't there!" said Adam. "It's—it's a basket, father."</p> + +<p>"A basket? What does the boy mean?"</p> + +<p>"A long basket, with something white inside; and—it's crying!"</p> + +<p>The boy had left the door open, and at this moment a sound came +through it, a long, low, plaintive cry.</p> + +<p>"My heart!" said Mother Golden; and she was out of the door in a +flash.</p> + +<p>"See there now!" said Father Golden, reprovingly. "Your mother's +smarter than any of you to-day. Go and help her, some of you!"</p> + +<p>The children tumbled headlong toward the door, but were met by +Mother Golden returning, bearing in her strong arms a long basket, +in which was indeed something white and fluffy that cried.</p> + + +<a name="white"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="2w_basket.jpg (123K)" src="2w_basket.jpg" height="1060" width="651"> +<br> +<p>["'A LONG BASKET WITH SOMETHING WHITE INSIDE; +AND—IT'S CRYING!'"]</p> +</center> +<br><br> + +<p>"A baby!" exclaimed Father Golden.</p> + +<p>"A baby!" echoed Mary, Lemuel, Ruth, and Joseph.</p> + +<p>"Well, I knew it was a baby," protested Adam; "but I didn't like to +say so."</p> + +<p>Mother Golden lifted the child out and held it in a certain way; the +cries ceased, and the little creature nestled close against her and +looked up in her face.</p> + +<p>"My heart!" said Mother Golden again. "Come here, girls!"</p> + +<p>The girls pressed forward eagerly; the boys hung back, and glanced +at their father; these were women's matters.</p> + +<p>"It's got hair!" cried Ruth, in rapture. "Mother! real hair, and it +curls; see it curl!"</p> + +<p>"Look at its little hands!" murmured Mary. "They're like pink shells, +only soft. Oh! see it move them, Ruth!" She caught her sister's arm +in a sudden movement of delight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, mayn't we keep it?" cried both girls at once.</p> + +<p>Mother Golden was examining the baby's clothes.</p> + +<p>"Cambric slip, fine enough, but not so terrible fine. Flannel blanket, +machine-embroidered—stop! here's a note."</p> + +<p>She opened a folded paper, and read a few words, written in a +carefully rough hand.</p> + +<p>"His mother is dead, his father a waif. Ask the woman with the kind +eyes to take care of him, for Christ's sake."</p> + +<p>"My heart!" said Mother Golden, again.</p> + +<p>"It's a boy, then!" said Father Golden, brightening perceptibly. He +came forward, the boys edging forward too, encouraged by another +masculine presence.</p> + +<p>"It's a boy, and a beauty!" said Mother Golden, wiping her eyes. +"I never see a prettier child. Poor mother, to have to go and leave +him. Father, what do you say?"</p> + +<p>"It's for you to say, mother;" said Father Golden. "It's to you the +child was sent."</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose 'twas me that was meant? They might have mistaken the +house."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk foolishness!" said Father Golden. "The question is, what +shall we do with it? There's places, a plenty, where foundlings have +the best of bringing up; and you've got care enough, as it is, mother, +without taking on any more."</p> + +<p>"Oh! we could help!" cried Mary. "I could wash and dress it, I know +I could, and I'd just love to."</p> + +<p>"So could I!" said twelve-year-old Ruth. "We'd take turns, Mary and I. +Do let's keep it, mother!"</p> + +<p>"It's a great responsibility!" said Father Golden.</p> + +<p>"Great Jemima!" said Mother Golden, with a sniff. "If I couldn't +take the responsibility of a baby, I'd give up."</p> + +<p>Father Golden's mind moved slowly, and while he was meditating a +reply, his wife issued various commands, and went through some +intricate feminine manoeuvres, with the effect of increased +fluffiness on the baby's part. In five minutes she was feeding the +child with warm milk from a spoon, and proclaiming that he ate +"like a Major!"</p> + +<p>The boys, gaining more and more confidence, were now close at her +knee, and watched the process with eager eyes.</p> + +<p>"He's swallering like anything!" cried Lemuel. "I can see him do it +with his throat, same as anybody."</p> + +<p>"See him grab the spoon!" said Joseph. "My! ain't he strong? Can he +talk, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Joe, you chuckle-head!" said Adam, who was sixteen, and knew most +things. "How can he talk, when he hasn't got any teeth?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle 'Rastus hasn't got any teeth," retorted Joseph, "and he talks +like a buzz-saw."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Joseph!" said Mother Golden, reprovingly. "Your Uncle 'Rastus +is a man of years."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother!" said Joseph, meekly.</p> + +<p>"Baby <i>has</i> got a tooth, too, Adam!" Mother Golden continued, +triumphantly. "I feel it pricking through the gum this minute. And +he so good, and laughing like a sunflower! Did it hurt him, then, a +little precious man? he shall have a nice ring to-morrow day, to +bitey on, so he shall!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose, then, he must be as much as a week old," hazarded Adam, +in an offhand tone. "They are never born with teeth, are they, +unless they are going to be Richard the Thirds, or something +wonderful?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he is!" said Ruth. "He looks wonderful enough for Richard +the Twentieth, or anything."</p> + +<p>But—"A week old!" said Mother Golden. "It's time there was a baby in +this house, if you don't know better than that, Adam. About six +months old I call him, and as pretty a child as ever I saw, even my +own."</p> + +<p>She looked half-defiantly at Father Golden, who returned the look +with one of mild deprecation.</p> + +<p>"I was only thinking of the care 'twould be to you, mother," he said. +"We're bound to make inquiries, and report the case, and so forth; +but if nothing comes of that, we might keep the child for a spell, +and see how things turn out."</p> + +<p>"That's what I was thinking!" said Mother Golden, eagerly. "I was +thinking anyway, Joel, 'twould be best to keep him through his +teething and stomach troubles, and give him a good start in the way +of proper food and nursing. At them homes and nurseries, they mean +well, but the most of them's young, and they <i>don't</i> understand a +child's stomach. It's experience they need, not good-will, I'm well +aware. Of course, when Baby begun to be a boy, things might be +different. You work hard enough as it is, father, and there's places, +no doubt, could do better for him, maybe, than what we could. +But—well, seeing whose name he come in, I <i>do</i> feel to see him +through his teething."</p> + +<p>"Children, what do you say?" asked Father Golden. "You're old enough +to have your opinion, even the youngest of you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, keep him! keep him!" clamored the three younger children.</p> + +<p>Adam and Lemuel exchanged a glance of grave inquiry.</p> + +<p>"I guess he'd better stay, father!" said Adam.</p> + +<p>"I think so, too!" said Lemuel; and both gave something like a sigh +of relief.</p> + +<p>"Then that's settled," said Father Golden, "saying and supposing +that no objection turns up. Next thing is, what shall we call this +child?"</p> + +<p>All eyes were fixed on the baby, who, now full of warm milk, sat +throned on Mother Golden's knee, blinking content.</p> + +<p>It was a pretty picture: the rosy, dimpled creature, the yellow +floss ruffled all over his head, his absurd little mouth open in a +beaming smile; beaming above him, Mother Golden's placid face in its +frame of silver hair; fronting them, Father Golden in his big +leather chair, solid, comfortable, benevolent; and the five children, +their honest, sober faces lighted up with unusual excitement. A +pleasant, homelike picture. Nothing remarkable in the way of setting; +the room, with its stuffed chairs, its tidies, and cabinet organ, was +only unlike other such rooms from the fact that Mother Golden +habitually sat in it; she could keep even haircloth from being +commonplace. But now, all the light in the room seemed to centre on +the yellow flossy curls against her breast.</p> + +<p>"A-goo!" said the baby, in a winning gurgle.</p> + +<p>"He says his name's Goo!" announced Joseph.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a chuckle-head, Joe!" said Adam. "What was the name on the +paper, mother?"</p> + +<p>"It said 'his father is a Waif;' but I don't take that to be a +Christian name. Surname, more likely, shouldn't you say, father?"</p> + +<p>"Not a Christian name, certainly," said Father Golden. "Not much of +a name anyhow, 'pears to me. We'd better give the child a suitable +name, mother, saying and supposing no objection turns up. Coming +into a Christian family, let him have Christian baptism, I say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, call him Arthur!"</p> + +<p>"Bill!"</p> + +<p>"Richard!"</p> + +<p>"Charlie!"</p> + +<p>"Reginald!" cried the children in chorus.</p> + +<p>"I do love a Bible name!" said Mother Golden, pensively. "It gives a +child a good start, so to say, and makes him think when he hears +himself named, or ought so to do. All our own children has Bible +names, father; don't let us cut the little stranger off from his +privilege."</p> + +<p>"But Bible names are so ugly!" objected Lemuel, who was sensitive, +and suffered under his own cognomen.</p> + +<p>"Son," said Father Golden, "your mother chooses the names in this +family."</p> + +<p>"Yes, father!" said Lemuel.</p> + +<p>"Lemuel, dear, you was named for a king!" said Mother Golden. +"He was a good boy to his mother, and so are you. Bring the Bible, +and let us see what it opens at. Joseph, you are the youngest, you +shall open it."</p> + +<p>Joseph opened the great brown leather Bible, and closing his eyes, +laid his hand on the page; then looking down, he read:</p> + +<p>"'There is little Benjamin their ruler, and the princes of Judah +their council: the princes of Zebulun and the princes of Nephtali.'"</p> + +<p>"Zebulun and Nephtali are outlandish-sounding names," said Mother +Golden.</p> + +<p>"I never knew but one Nephtali, and he squinted. Benjamin shall be +this child's name. Little Benjamin: the Lord bless and keep him!"</p> + +<p>"Amen!" said Father Golden.</p> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<p><i>PART II</i>.</p> + +<p>"Father, may I come in, if you are not busy?"</p> + +<p>It was Mary who spoke; Mary, the dear eldest daughter, now a woman +grown, grave and mild, trying hard to fill the place left empty +these two years, since Mother Golden went smiling out of life.</p> + +<p>Father Golden looked up from his book; he was an old man now, but +his eyes were still young and kind.</p> + +<p>"What is it, daughter Mary?"</p> + +<p>"The same old story, father dear; Benny in mischief again. This time +he has rubbed soot on all the door-handles, and the whole house is +black with it. I hate to trouble you, father, but I expect you'll +have to speak to him. I do love the child so, I'm not strict +enough—I'm ashamed to say it, but they all think so, and I know +it's true—and Adam is too strict."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Adam is too strict," said Father Golden. He looked at a +portrait that stood on his desk, a framed photograph of Mother Golden.</p> + +<p>"I'll speak to the child, Mary," he said. "I'll see that this does +not happen again. What is it, Ruthie?"</p> + +<p>"I was looking for Mary, father. I wanted—oh, Mary! what shall I do +with Benny? he has tied Rover and the cat together by their tails, +and they are rushing all about the garden almost crazy. I must +finish this work, so I can't attend to it. He says he is playing +Samson. I wish you would speak to him, father."</p> + +<p>"I will do so, Ruth, I will do so. Don't be distressed, my daughter."</p> + +<p>"But he is so naughty, father! he is so different from the other boys. +Joe never used to play such tricks when he was little."</p> + +<p>"The spring vacation will be over soon now, Ruth," said Sister Mary. +"He is always better when he is at work, and there is so little for +a boy to do just at this time of year."</p> + +<p>"I left Joe trying to catch the poor creatures," said Ruth. +"Here he comes now."</p> + +<p>Joe, a tall lad of seventeen, entered with a face of tragedy.</p> + +<p>"Any harm done, Joseph?" asked Father Golden, glancing at the +portrait on his desk.</p> + +<p>"It's that kid again, father!" said Joe. "Poor old Rover—"</p> + +<p>"Father knows about that, Joe!" said Mary, gently.</p> + +<p>"Did you get them apart?" cried Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did, but not till they had smashed most of the glass in the +kitchen windows, and trampled all over Mary's geraniums. Something +has got to be done about that youngster, father. He's getting to be +a perfect nuisance."</p> + +<p>"I am thinking of doing something about him, son Joseph," said Father +Golden. "Are your brothers in the house?"</p> + +<p>"I think I heard them come in just now, sir. Do you want to see them?"</p> + +<p>Apparently Adam and Lemuel wanted to see their father, for they +appeared in the doorway at this moment: quiet-looking men, with grave, +"set" faces; the hair already beginning to edge away from their +temples.</p> + +<p>"You are back early from the office, boys!" said Father Golden.</p> + +<p>"We came as soon as we got the message," said Adam. "I hope nothing +is wrong, father."</p> + +<p>"What message, Adam?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't you send for us? Benny came running in, all out of breath, +and said you wished to see us at once. If he has been playing tricks +again—"</p> + +<p>Adam's grave face darkened into sternness. The trick was too evident.</p> + +<p>"Something must be done about that boy, father!" he said. "He is the +torment of the whole family."</p> + +<p>"No one can live a day in peace!" said Lemuel.</p> + +<p>"No dumb creature's life is safe!" said Joe.</p> + +<p>"He breaks everything he lays hands on," said Ruth, "and he won't +keep his hands off anything."</p> + +<p>"You were all little once, boys!" said Mary.</p> + +<p>"We never behaved in this kind of way!" said the brothers, sedate +from their cradles. "Something must be done!"</p> + +<p>"You are right," said Father Golden. "Something must be done."</p> + +<p>Glancing once more at the portrait of Mother Golden, he turned and +faced his children with grave looks.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sons and daughters!" said the old man. "I have something +to say to you."</p> + +<p>The young people obeyed, wondering, but not questioning. Father +Golden was head of the house.</p> + +<p>"You all come to me," said Father Golden, "with complaints of little +Benjamin. It is singular that you should come to-day, for I have +been waiting for this day to speak to you about the child myself."</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment; then added, weighing his words slowly, as +was his wont when much in earnest, "Ten years ago to-day, that child +was left on our door-step."</p> + +<p>The brothers and sisters uttered an exclamation, half surprised, +half acquiescent.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem so long!" said Adam.</p> + +<p>"It seems longer!" said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I keep forgetting he came that way!" murmured Joe.</p> + +<p>"I felt doubtful about taking him in," Father Golden went on. +"But your mother wished it; you all wished it. We decided to keep +him for a spell, and give him a good start in life, and we have kept +him till now."</p> + +<p>"Of course we have kept him!" said Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Naturally!" said Lemuel.</p> + +<p>Adam and Mary said nothing, but looked earnestly at their father.</p> + +<p>"Little Benjamin is now ten years old, more or less," said Father +Golden. "You are men and women grown; even Joseph is seventeen. Your +mother has entered into the rest that is reserved for the people of +God, and I am looking forward in the hope that, not through any +merit of mine, but the merciful grace of God, I may soon be called +to join her. Adam and Lemuel, you are settled in the business, and +looking forward to making homes of your own with worthy young women. +Joseph is going to college, which is a new thing in our family, but +one I approve, seeing his faculty appears to lie that way. Ruth will +make a first-rate dressmaker, I am told by those who know. Mary—"</p> + +<p>His quiet voice faltered. Mary took his hand and kissed it +passionately; a sob broke from her, and she turned her face away +from the brothers and sister who loved but did not understand her. +They looked at her with grave compassion, but no one would have +thought of interrupting Father Golden.</p> + +<p>"Mary, you are the home-maker," the old man went on. "I hope that +when I am gone this home will still be here, with you at the head of +it. You are your mother's own daughter; there is no more to say." He +was silent for a time, and then continued.</p> + +<p>"There remains little Benjamin, a child of ten years. He is no kin +to us; an orphan, or as good as one; no person has ever claimed him, +or ever will. The time has come to decide what shall be done with +the child."</p> + +<p>Again he paused, and looked around. The serious young faces were all +intent upon him; in some, the intentness seemed deepening into +trouble, but no one spoke or moved.</p> + +<p>"We have done all that we undertook to do for him, that night we +took him in, and more. We have brought him—I should say your mother +brought him—through his sickly days; we 'most lost him, you remember, +when he was two years old, with the croup—and he is now a healthy, +hearty child, and will likely make a strong man. He has been well +treated, well fed and clothed, maybe better than he would have been +by his own parents if so't had been. He is turning out wild and +mischievous, though he has a good heart, none better; and you all, +except Mary, come to me with complaints of him.</p> + +<p>"Now, this thing has gone far enough. One of two things: either this +boy is to be sent away to some institution, to take his place among +other orphans and foundlings, or—he must be one of you for now and +always, to share alike with you while I live, to be bore with and +helped by each and every one of you as if he was your own blood, and +to have his share of the property when I am gone. Sons and daughters, +this question is for you to decide. I shall say nothing. My life is +'most over, yours is just beginning. I have no great amount to leave +you, but 'twill be comfortable so far as it goes. Benjamin has +one-sixth of that, and becomes my own son, to be received and +treated by you as your own brother, or he goes."</p> + +<p>Mary hid her face in her hands. Adam walked to the window and looked +out; but the other three broke out into a sudden, hurried clamor, +strangely at variance with their usual staid demeanor.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father, we couldn't let him go!"</p> + +<p>"Why, father, I can't think what you mean!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure, sir, we never thought of such a thing as sending him away. +Why, he's our Ben."</p> + +<p>"Good enough little kid, only mischievous."</p> + +<p>"Needs a little governing, that's all. Mary spoils him; no harm in +him, not a mite."</p> + +<p>"And the lovingest little soul! the minute he found that Kitty's paw +was cut, he sat down and cried—"</p> + +<p>"I guess if Benny went, I'd go after him pretty quick!" said Joseph, +who had been loudest in his complaint against the child.</p> + +<p>Mary looked up and smiled through her tears. "Joe, your heart is in +the right place!" she said. "I finished your shirts this morning, +dear; I'm going to begin on your slippers to-night."</p> + +<p>"Well, but, father—"</p> + +<p>"Father dear, about little Benny—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir—poor little Ben!"</p> + +<p>"Go easy!" said Father Golden; and his face, as he looked from one +to the other, was as bright as his name.</p> + +<p>"Why, children, you're real excited. I don't want excitement, nor +crying—Mary, daughter, I knew how you would feel, anyway. I want a +serious word, 'go,' or 'stay,' from each one of you; a word that +will last your lives long. I'll begin with the youngest, because +that was your mother's way. She always said the youngest was nearest +heaven. Joseph, what is your word about little Benjamin?"</p> + +<p>"Stay, of course!" cried Joe. "Benny does tease me, but I should be +nowhere without him."</p> + +<p>"Ruth! you seemed greatly tried just now. Think what you are going +to say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course he must stay, father. Why, the child is the life of +the house. We are all so humdrum and mopy, I don't know what we +should do without Benny to keep us moving."</p> + +<p>"Mary, daughter—not that I need your answer, my dear."</p> + +<p>"He is the only child I shall ever have!" said Mary, simply.</p> + +<p>There was silence for a moment, and all thought of the grave where +her young heart had laid its treasure.</p> + +<p>"Lemuel!"</p> + +<p>"I've been hard on the child, Father!" said Lemuel. "He's so +different from the rest of us, and he does try me. But mother loved +him, and down at the bottom we all do, I guess. I say 'stay,' too, +and I'll try to be more of a brother to him from now on."</p> + +<p>"Son Adam, I have left you the longest time to reflect," said Father +Golden. "You are the oldest, and when I am gone it will be on you +and Mary that the heft of the care will come. Take all the time you +want, and then give us your word!"</p> + +<p>Adam turned round; his face was very grave, but he spoke cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"I have had time enough, Father," he said. "I was the first that +heard that little voice, ten years ago, and the first, except mother, +that saw the child; 'twould be strange if I were the one to send him +away. He came in Christ's name, and in that name I bid him stay."</p> + +<p>"Amen!" said Father Golden.</p> + +<p>A silence followed; but it was broken soon by a lively whistle, +shrilling out a rollicking tune; the next moment a boy came running +into the room. Curly, rosy, dirty, ragged, laughing, panting, little +Benjamin stood still and looked round on all the earnest, serious +faces.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, all you folks?" he asked. "I should think you +was all in meeting, and sermon just beginning. Ruth, I tied up +Kitty's leg all right; and I'll dig greens to pay for the glass, Joe. +Say, Bro'rer-Adam-an'-Lem (Benny pronounced this as if it were one +word), did you forget it was April Fool's Day? Didn't I fool you good? +And—say! there's a fierce breeze and my new kite's a buster. Who'll +come out and fly her with me?"</p> + +<p>"I will, Benny!" said Adam, Lemuel, Mary, Ruth, and Joseph.</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="alonzo"></a> +<br><br> + +<center><h2> +DON ALONZO</h2> +</center> +<br> +<p> +"Don Alonzo! Don Alonzo Pitkin! Where be you?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"Don Alonzo! Deacon Bassett's here, and wishful to see you. Don +Alonzo Pit-<i>kin</i>!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joe Pitkin stood at the door a moment, waiting; then she shook +her shoulders with a despairing gesture, and went back into the +sitting-room. "I don't know where he is, Deacon Bassett," she said. +"There! I'm sorry; but he's so bashful, Don Alonzo is, he'll creep +off and hide anywheres sooner than see folks. I do feel mortified, +but I can't seem to help it, no way in the world."</p> + +<p>"No need to, Mis' Pitkin," said Deacon Bassett, rising slowly and +reaching for his hat. "No need to. I should have been pleased to see +Don 'Lonzo, and ask if he got benefit from those pills I left for him +last time I called; what he wants is to doctor reg'lar, and keep +straight on doctorin'. But I can call again; and I felt it a duty to +let you know what's goin' on at your own yard-gate, I may say. Mis' +Pegrum's house ain't but a stone's throw from yourn, is it? Well, +I'll be wishing you good day, and I hope Joseph will be home before +there's any trouble. I don't suppose you've noticed whether Don +Alonzo has growed any, sence he took those pills?"</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't!" said Mrs. Pitkin, shortly. "Good day, Deacon Bassett."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you can call again," she added, mentally, as she watched the +deacon making his way slowly down the garden walk, stopping the +while to inspect every plant that looked promising. "You can call +again, but you will not see him, if you come every day. It does beat +all, the way folks can't let that boy alone. Talk about his being +cranky! I'd be ten times as cranky as he is, if I was pestered by +every old podogger that's got stuff to sell."</p> + +<p>She closed the door, and addressed the house, apparently empty and +still. "He's gone!" she said, speaking rather loudly, "Don 'Lonzo, +he's gone, and you can come out. I expect you're hid somewheres +about here, for I didn't hear you go out."</p> + +<p>There was no sound. She opened the door of the ground-floor bedroom +and looked in. All was tidy and pleasant as usual. Every mat lay in +its place; the chairs were set against the wall as she loved to see +them; the rows of books, the shelves of chemicals, at which she +hardly dared to look, and which she never dared to touch for fear +something would "go off" and kill her instantly, the specimens in +their tall glass jars, the case of butterflies, all were in their +place; but there was no sign of life in the room, save the canary in +the window.</p> + +<p>"Deacon Bassett's gone!" she said, speaking to the canary.</p> + +<p>There was a scuffling sound from under the bed; the valance was +lifted, and a head emerged cautiously.</p> + +<p>"I tell you he's gone!" repeated Mira Pitkin, rather impatiently. +"Come out, Don Alonzo! There! you are foolish, I must say!"</p> + +<p>The head came out, followed by a figure. The figure was that of a +boy of twelve, but the head belonged to a youth of seventeen. The +rounded shoulders, the sharp features, the dark, sunken eyes, all +told a tale of suffering; Don Alonzo Pitkin was a hunchback.</p> + +<p>His pretty, silly mother had given him the foolish name which seemed +a perpetual mockery of his feeble person. She had found it in an old +romance, and had only wavered between it and Señor Gonzalez,—which +she pronounced Seener Gon-zallies,—the other dark-eyed hero of the +book. Perhaps she pictured to herself her baby growing up into such +another lofty, black-plumed hidalgo as those whose magnificent +language and mustachios had so deeply impressed her. It was true +that she herself had pinkish eyes and white eyelashes, while her +husband was familiarly known as "Carrots,"—but what of that?</p> + +<p>But he had a fall, this poor baby,—a cruel fall, from the +consequences of which no high-sounding name could save him; and then +presently the little mother died, and the father married again.</p> + +<p>The boy's childhood had been a sad one, and all the happiness he had +known had been lately, since his elder brother married. Big, +good-natured Joe Pitkin, marrying the prettiest girl in the village, +had been sore at heart, even in his new-wedded happiness, at the +thought of leaving the deformed, sensitive boy alone with the +careless father and the shrewish stepmother. But his young wife had +been the first to say:</p> + +<p>"Let Don Alonzo come and live with us, Joe! Where there is room for +two, there is room for three, and that boy wants to be made of!"</p> + +<p>So the strong, cheerful, wholesome young woman took the sickly lad +into her house and heart, and "made of him," to use her own quaint +phrase; and she became mother and sister and sweetheart, all in one, +to Don Alonzo.</p> + +<p>Now she stood looking at him, shaking her head, yet smiling. +"Don 'Lonzo, how can you behave so?" she asked. "This is the third +time Deacon Bassett has been here to see you, and he's coming again; +and what be I to say to him next time he comes? You can't go through +life without seeing folks, you know."</p> + +<p>Don Alonzo shook his shoulders, and pretended to look for dust on +his coat. He would have been deeply mortified to find any, for he +took care of his own room, and prided himself, with reason, on its +neatness. Also, the space beneath his bedstead was cupboard as well +as hiding-place.</p> + +<p>"He troubles me," he said, meekly. "Deacon Bassett troubles me more +than any of 'em. Did he ask if I'd grown any?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he did," Mira admitted. "But I expect he didn't mean anything +by it."</p> + +<p>"He's asked that ever since I can remember," said Don Alonzo; +"and I'm weary of it. There! And then he says that if I would only +take his Green Elixir three times a day for three months, I'd grow +like a sapling willow. He hopes to make his living out of me, yet!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pitkin laughed, comfortably, and smoothed the lad's hair back +with a motherly touch. "All the same," she said, "you must quit +hiding under the bed when folks come to call, Don 'Lonzo. You don't +want 'em to think I treat you bad, and keep you out o' sight, so's +they'll not find it out." Then, seeing the boy's face flush with +distress, she added, hastily, "Besides, you're getting to be 'most a +man now; I want strangers should know there's men-folks about the +place, now Joe's away. There's burglars in town, Don 'Lonzo, and we +must look out and keep things shut up close, nights."</p> + +<p>"Burglars!" repeated the youth.</p> + +<p>"Yes; Deacon Bassett was telling me about 'em just now. I guess +likely half what he came for was to give me a good scare, knowing +Joe was away. Now, ain't I uncharitable! 'Twas just as likely to be +a friendly warning. Anyway, he was telling me they came through from +Tupham Corner day before yesterday, and they've been lurking and +spying round."</p> + +<p>"Some boys saw them, coming through Green Gully, and were scared to +death at their looks; they said they were big, black-looking men, +strangers to these parts; and they swore at the boys and ordered 'em +off real ugly. Nobody else has seen them in honest daylight, but +they broke into Dan'l Brown's house last night. He's deaf, you know, +and didn't hear a sound. They came right into the room where he slept, +—Deacon Bassett was there the next day, and saw their tracks all +over the floor,—and took ten dollars out of his pants pocket. The +pants was hanging right beside the bed, and they turned them clean +inside out, and Dan'l never stirred."</p> + +<p>"My, oh!" exclaimed Don Alonzo.</p> + +<p>"Why, it's terrible!" Mira went on. "Then, last night, they got into +Mis' Pegrum's house, too. She's a lone woman, you know, same as +Dan'l is a man. Seems as if they had took note of every house where +there wasn't plenty of folks to be stirring and taking notice. They +got into the pantry window, and took every living thing she had to +eat. They might do that, and still go hungry, Deacon Bassett says; +you know there's always been a little feeling between him and Mis' +Pegrum; her cat and his hens—it's an old story. Well, and she did +hear a noise, and came out into the kitchen, and there sat two great, +black men, eating her best peach preserves, and the cake she'd made +for the Ladies' Aid, to-day. She was so scare't, she couldn't speak +a word; and they just laughed and told her to go back to bed, and +she went. Poor-spirited, it seems, but I don't know as I should have +done a bit better in her place. There! I wish Joe'd come back! I +feel real nervous, hearing about it all. Oh, and her gold watch, too, +they got, and three solid silver teaspoons that belonged to her +mother. She's sick abed, Deacon Bassett says, and I don't wonder. I +don't feel as if I should sleep a wink to-night!"</p> + +<p>The color came into Don Alonzo's thin cheeks. "There sha'n't no one +do you any hurt while I'm round, Mira!" he said; and for a moment he +forgot his deformity, and straightened his poor shoulders, and held +up his head like a man.</p> + +<p>There was no shade of amusement in Mira Pitkin's honest smile. +"I expect you'd be as brave as a lion, Don 'Lonzo," she said. +"I expect you'd shoo 'em right out of the yard, same as you did the +turkey gobbler when he run at my red shawl; don't you remember? But +all the same, I hope they will not come; and I shall be glad to see +Joe back again."</p> + +<p>At that moment the lad caught sight of himself in the little +looking-glass that hung over his chest of drawers. Mira, watching him, +saw the sparkle go out of his eyes, saw his shoulders droop, and his +head sink forward; and she said, quickly:</p> + +<p>"But there! we've said enough about the burglars, I should think! +How's the experiments, Don 'Lonzo? I heard an awful fizzing going on, +just before Deacon Bassett came in. I expect you've got great things +hidden under that bed; I expect there's other perils round besides +burglars! Joe may come back and find us both blown into kindlin'-wood, +after all!"</p> + +<p>This was a favorite joke of theirs; she had the pleasure of seeing a +smile come into the boy's sad eyes; then, with another of those +motherly touches on his hair, she went away, singing, to her work.</p> + +<p>Don Alonzo looked after her. From the way his eyes followed her, she +might have been a glorified saint in robe and crown, instead of a +rosy-cheeked young woman in a calico gown. "There sha'n't nothing +hurt her while I'm round!" he muttered again.</p> + +<p>The night fell, dark and cloudy. Mrs. Pitkin went to bed early, +after shaking every door and trying every window to make sure that +all was safe. Don Alonzo went through the same process twice after +she was gone, but he did not feel like sleeping, himself. He lay +down on his bed, but his thoughts seemed dancing from one thing to +another,—to Brother Joe, travelling homeward now, he hoped, after a +week's absence; to Mira's goodness, her patience with his wayward +self, her kindness in letting him mess with chemicals, and turn the +shed into a laboratory, and frighten her with explosions; to Dan'l +Brown and Mis' Pegrum and the burglars.</p> + +<p>Ah, the burglars! What could he do, if they should really come to +the house? They were two men, probably well-grown; he—he knew what +he was! How could he carry out his promise to Mira, if she should be +in actual danger? Not by strength, clearly; but there must be some +way; bodily strength was not the only thing in the world. He looked +about him, seeking for inspiration; his eyes, wandering here and +there, lighted upon something, then remained fixed. The room was +dimly lighted by a small lamp, but the corners were dark, and in one +of these dark corners something was shining with a faint, uncertain +light. The phosphorescent match-box! He had made it himself, and had +ornamented it with a grotesque face in luminous paint. This face now +glimmered and glowered at him from the darkness; and Don Alonzo lay +still and looked back at it. Lying so and looking, there crept into +his mind an old story that he had once read; and he laughed to +himself, and then nodded at the glimmering face. "Thank you, old +fellow!" said Don Alonzo.</p> + +<p>Was there a noise? Was it his imagination, or did a branch snap, a +twig rustle down the road? The hunchback had ears like a fox, and in +an instant he was at the window, peering out into the darkness. At +first he could see nothing; but gradually the lilac bushes at the +gate came into sight, and the clumps of flowers in the little garden +plot. Not a breath was stirring, yet—hark! Again a twig snapped, a +branch crackled; and now again! and nearer each time. Don Alonzo +strained his eyes to pierce the darkness. Were those bushes, those +two shapes by the gate? They were not there a moment ago. Ha! they +moved; they were coming nearer. Their feet made no sound on the +soft earth, but his sharp ears caught a new sound,—a whisper, faint, +yet harsh, like a hiss. Don Alonzo had seen and heard enough. He +left the window, and the next moment was diving under the bed.</p> + +<hr> + +<p>Mira Pitkin usually slept like a child, from the moment her head +touched the pillow till the precise second when something woke in +her brain and said "Five o'clock!" But to-night her sleep was broken. +She tossed and muttered in her dreams; and suddenly she sat up in bed +with eyes wide open and a distinct sense of something wrong. Her +first thought was of fire; she sniffed; the air was pure and clear. +Then, like a cry in her ears, came—"The burglars!" She held her +breath and listened; was the night as still as it was dark? No! a +faint, steady sound came to her ears. A mouse, was it, or—the sound +of a tool?</p> + +<p>And then, almost noiselessly, a window was opened, the window of the +upper entry, next her room. Mira was at her own window in an instant, +raising it; that, too, opened silently, for Joe was a carpenter and +detested noisy windows. She peered out into the thick darkness. Black, +black! Was the blackness deeper there, just at the front door? +Surely it was! Surely something, somebody, was busy with the lock of +the door; and then she heard, as Don Alonzo had heard, a low sound +like a hiss, beside the soft scraping of the tool. What should she do? +The windows were fast, there was a bar and chain inside the door, +but what of that? Two desperate men could force an entrance anywhere +in a moment. What could she do, a woman, with only a sickly boy to +help her? And—who had opened that upper window? Was there a third +accomplice—for she thought she could see two spots of deeper +blackness by the door—hidden in the house? Oh, if only Joe had +borrowed his father's old pistol for her, as she had begged him to do!</p> + +<p>Mira opened her lips to shout, in the hope of rousing the nearest +neighbors, though they were not very near. Opened her lips—but no +sound came from them. For at that instant something appeared at the +window next her own; something stepped from it, out on to the little +porch over the front door. Mira Pitkin gasped, and felt her heart +fail within her. A skeleton! Every limb outlined in pale fire, the +bony fingers points of wavering flame. What awful portent was this? +The Thing paused and turned, a frightful face gazed at her for an +instant, a hand waved, then the Thing dropped, silent as a shadow, on +that spot of deeper blackness that was stooping at the front door.</p> + +<p>Then rose an outcry wild and hideous. The burglar shouted hoarsely, +and tried to shake off the Thing that sat on his shoulders, gripping +his neck with hands of iron, digging his sides with bony knees and +feet; but the second thief, who saw by what his comrade was ridden, +shrieked in pure animal terror, uttering unearthly sounds that cut +the air like a knife. For a moment he could only stand and shriek; +then he turned and fled through the yard, and the other fled after +him, the glimmering phantom clutching him tight. Down the road they +fled. Mira could now see nothing save the riding Thing, apparently +horsed on empty air; but now she saw it, still clutching close with +its left hand, raise the right, holding what looked like a shining +snake, and bring it down hissing and curling. Again, and again! and +with every blow the shrieks grew more and more hideous, till now +they had reached the cluster of houses at the head of the street, +and every window was flung open, and lights appeared, and voices +clamored in terror and amaze. The village was roused; and now—now, +the glimmering skeleton was seen to loose its hold. It dropped from +its perch, and turning that awful face toward her once more, came +loping back, silent as a shadow. But when she saw that, Mira Pitkin, +for the first and last time in her sensible life, fainted away.</p> + +<p>When she came to herself, the skeleton was bending over her anxiously, +but its face was no longer frightful; it was white and anxious, and +the eyes that met hers were piteous with distress.</p> + +<p>"My, oh!" cried Don Alonzo. "I vowed no one should do her any hurt, +and now I've done it myself."</p> + +<p>There was little sleep in the Pitkin house that night. The neighbors +came flocking in with cries and questions; and when all was explained, +Don Alonzo found himself the hero of the hour. For once he did not +hide under the bed, but received everybody—from Deacon Bassett down +to the smallest boy who came running in shirt and trousers, +half-awake, and athirst for marvels—with modest pride, and told +over and over again how it all happened.</p> + +<p>'Twas no great thing, he maintained. He had fooled considerable with +phosphorus, and had some of the luminous paint that he had mixed +some time before. Thinking about these fellows, he remembered a +story he read once, where they painted up a dead body to scare away +some murdering robbers. He thought a living person was as good as a +dead one, any day; so he tried it on, and it appeared to succeed. He +didn't think likely those men would stop short of the next township, +from the way they were running when he got down. Oh, the snake? That +was Joe's whip. He presumed likely it hurt some, from the way they +yelled.</p> + +<p>But the best of all was when Joe came home, the very next day, and +when, the three of them sitting about the supper-table, Mira herself +told the great story, from the first moment of Deacon Bassett's +visit down to the triumphant close—"And I see him coming back, +shining like a corpse-candle, and I fell like dead on the floor!"</p> + +<p>"There!" she continued, beaming across the table at Joe, as she +handed him his fourth cup of coffee, "you may go away again whenever +you're a mind to; I sha'n't be afraid. You ain't half the man Don +'Lonzo is!"</p> + +<p>"I don't expect I be!" said big Joe, beaming back again.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Don Alonzo that their smiles made the kitchen warm as +June, though October was falling cold that year.</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="shed"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +THE SHED CHAMBER</h2> +</center> +<br> +<p> +"Well, I once answered an advertisement in the <i>Farmer's Friend</i>, +girls, and I have always been glad I did. It was that summer when +father broke his arm and the potato crop failed, and everything +seemed to be going wrong on the farm. There were plenty of girls to +do the work at home, and I thought I ought to get something outside +to do if I could. I tried here and there, but without success; at +last my eye caught a notice in the <i>Farmer's Friend</i>, just the same +kind of notice as that you are speaking of, Lottie: 'Wanted, a +capable, steady girl to assist in housework and take care of children. +Address, with reference, A. B. C., Dashville.' I talked it over with +mother, and she agreed with me; father didn't take so kindly to the +idea, naturally; he likes to have us all at home, especially in +summer. However, he said I might do as I pleased; so I answered the +notice and sent a letter from our pastor, saying what he thought of +me. I was almost ashamed to send it, too; he has always been more +than kind to me, you know; if I'd been his own daughter he couldn't +have said more. Well, they wrote for me to come, and I went.</p> + +<p>"Girls, it was pretty hard when it came to that part, leaving the +house, and mother standing in the doorway trying not to look anxious, +and father fretting and saying it was all nonsense, and he shouldn't +have hands enough to pick the apples. Of course he knew I knew better, +but I was glad he didn't want me to go, after all. Sister Nell and +Sister Margie had packed my trunk, and they were as excited as I was, +and almost wished they were going instead, but not quite, I think; +and so Joe whistled to old Senator, and I waved my handkerchief, and +mother and the two girls waved their aprons, and off I went.</p> + +<p>"I didn't really feel alone till I was in the train and had lost +sight of Joe standing and smoothing Senator's mane and nodding at me; +then the world seemed very big and Tupham Corner a very small corner +in it. I will not say anything more about this part; you'll find it +out soon enough yourselves, when you go away from home the first time.</p> + +<p>"It was a long journey, or it seemed so then; but everything comes +to an end some time, and there was plenty of daylight left for me to +see my new home when I arrived. It was a pleasant-looking house, +long and rambling, painted yellow, too, which made me more homesick +than ever. There were two children standing in the doorway, and +presently Mr. Bowles came out and shook hands with me and helped me +down with my things. He was a kind, sensible-looking man, and he +made the children come and speak to me and shake hands. They were +shy then and hung back, and put their fingers in their mouths; I +knew just how they felt. I wanted to hang back, too, when he took me +into the house to see Mrs. Bowles. She was an invalid, he told me, +and could not leave her room.</p> + +<p>"Girls, the minute I saw that sweet, pale face, with the look of +pain and patience in it, I knew what I had come for. I do think we +understood each other from the first minute, Mrs. Bowles and I; for +she held my hand a good while, looking into my face and I into hers, +and she must have seen how sorry I was for her, and how I hoped I +could help her; for when I went into the kitchen I heard her say, +with a little sigh, as she lay back again, 'O John, I do believe +this is the right one at last!' You may believe I made up my mind +that I would be the right one, Lottie!</p> + +<p>"That kitchen was in a scandalous condition. It was well I had seen +Mrs. Bowles first or I should have wanted to run away that very +minute. The eldest little girl—it seems strange to think that there +ever was a time when I didn't know Barbara's name!—followed me out, +—I think her father told her to,—and rubbed along against the wall, +just exactly as I used to when I felt shy. When I asked her a little +about where things were, and so on—they were everywhere and nowhere; +you never saw such a looking place in your life!—she took her +finger out of her mouth, and pretty soon I told her about our yellow +coon kittens, and after that we got on very well. She said they had +had one girl after another, each worse than the last. The shoe +factory had taken off all the good help and left only the incapable +ones. The last one, Barbara said, had almost starved them, and been +saucy to Mrs. Bowles, and dirty—well, there was no need to tell me +that. It was a shame to see good things so destroyed; for the things +were good, only all dirty and broken, and—oh, well! there's no use +in telling about that part.</p> + +<p>"I asked when her mother had had anything to eat, and she said not +since noon; I knew that was no way for an invalid to be taken care of, +so I put the kettle on and hunted about till I found a cup and saucer +I liked, and then I found the bread-box—oh, dear! that bread-box, +girls! But the mold scraped right off, and the bread wasn't really +bad; I made some toast and cut the crust off, and put just a thin +scrape of butter on it; then I sent Barbara in with a little tray +and told her to see that her mother took it all. I thought she'd +feel more like taking it from the child than from a stranger, if she +hadn't much appetite. My dears, the child came out again in a few +minutes, her face all alight.</p> + +<p>"'She drank it all, every drop!' she cried. 'And now she's eating +the toast. She said how did you know, and she cried, but now she's +all right. Father 'most cried, too, I think. Say!'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, dear.'</p> + +<p>"'Father says the Lord sent you. Did he?'"</p> + + +<a name="father"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="3w_Lordsent.jpg (103K)" src="3w_Lordsent.jpg" height="1071" width="669"> +<br> +<p>["'FATHER SAYS THE LORD SENT YOU. DID HE?'"]</p> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"I nodded, for I couldn't say anything that minute. I kissed the +little girl and went on with my cleaning. Girls, don't ever grudge +the time you spend in learning to cook nicely. Food is what keeps the +breath of life in us, and it all depends upon us girls now, and later, +when we are older women, whether it is good or bad. No, Sue, I'm not +going to preach, but I shall never forget how that tired man and +those hungry children enjoyed their supper. 'Twas mother's supper, +every bit of it, from the light biscuit down to the ham omelette; I +found the ham bone in a dark cupboard, all covered with mold, like +the bread, but 'twas good and sweet underneath. I only wish mother +had been there to see them eat. After supper Mr. Bowles came and +shook hands with me. I didn't know then that he never used any more +words than he had to; but I was pleased, if I did think it funny.</p> + +<p>"I was tired enough by the time bedtime came, and after I had put +the children to bed and seen that Mrs. Bowles was comfortable, and +had water and crackers and a candle beside her—she was a very poor +sleeper—I was glad enough to go to bed myself. Barbara showed me my +room, a pretty little room with sloping gables and windows down by +the floor. There were two doors, and I asked her where the other led +to. She opened it and said, 'The shed chamber.' I looked over her +shoulder, holding up the candle, and saw a great bare room, with +some large trunks in it, but no other furniture except a high +wardrobe. I liked the look of the place, for it was a little like +our play room in the attic at home; but I was too tired to explore, +and I was asleep in ten minutes from the time I had tucked up +Barbara in her bed, and Rob and Billy in their double crib.</p> + +<p>"I should take a week if I tried to tell you all about those first +days; and, after all, it is one particular thing that I started to +tell, only there is so much that comes back to me. In a few days I +felt that I belonged there, almost as much as at home; they were +that kind of people, and made me feel that they cared about me, and +not only about what I did. Mrs. Bowles has always been the best +friend I have in the world after my own folks; it didn't take us a +day to see into each other, and by and by it got to be so that I +knew what she wanted almost before she knew, herself.</p> + +<p>"At the end of the week Mr. Bowles said he ought to go away on +business for a few days, and asked her if she would feel safe to +stay with me and the children, or if he should ask his brother to +come and sleep in the house.</p> + +<p>"'No, indeed!' said Mrs. Bowles. 'I shall feel as safe with Nora as +if I had a regiment in the house; a good deal safer!' she added, and +laughed.</p> + +<p>"So it was settled, and the next day Mr. Bowles went away and I was +left in full charge. I suppose I rather liked the responsibility. I +asked Mrs. Bowles if I might go all over the house to see how +everything fastened, and she said, 'Of course.' The front windows +were just common windows, quite high up from the floor; but in the +shed chamber, as in my room, they opened near the floor, and there +was no very secure way of fastening them, it seemed to me. However, I +wasn't going to say anything to make her nervous, and that was the +way they had always had them. If I had only known!</p> + +<p>"After the children went to bed that evening I read to Mrs. Bowles +for an hour, and then I went to warm up a little cocoa for her; she +slept better if she took a drop of something hot the last thing. It +was about nine o'clock. I had just got into the kitchen, and was +going to light the lamp, when I heard the door open softly.</p> + +<p>"'Who's there?' I asked.</p> + +<p>"'Only me,' said a girl's voice.</p> + +<p>"I lighted my lamp, and saw a girl about my own age, pretty, and +showily dressed. She said she was the girl who had left the house a +few days ago; she had forgotten something, and might she go up into +the shed chamber and get it? I told her to wait a minute, and went +and asked Mrs. Bowles. She said yes, Annie might go up. 'Annie was +careless and saucy,' she said, 'but I think she meant no harm. She +can go and get her things.'</p> + +<p>"I came back and told the girl, and she smiled and nodded. I did not +like her smile, I could not tell why. I started to go with her, but +she turned on me pretty sharply, and said she had been in the house +three months and didn't need to be shown the way by a stranger. I +didn't want to put myself forward, but no sooner had she run +up-stairs, and I heard her steps in the chamber above me, than +something seemed to be pushing, pushing me toward those stairs, +whether I would or no. I tried to hold back, and tell myself it was +nonsense, and that I was nervous and foolish; it made no difference, +I had to go up-stairs.</p> + +<p>"I went softly, my shoes making no noise. My own little room was dark, +for I had closed the blinds when the afternoon sun was pouring in +hot and bright; but a slender line of light lay across the blackness +like a long finger, and I knew the moon was shining in at the +windows of the shed chamber. I did a thing I had never done before +in my life; that silver finger came through the keyhole, and it drew +me to it. I knelt down and looked through.</p> + +<p>"The big room shone bare and white in the moonlight; the trunks +looked like great animals crouching along the walls. Annie stood in +the middle of the room, as if she were waiting or listening for +something. Then she slipped off her shoes and went to one of the +windows and opened it. I had fastened it, but the catch was old and +she knew the trick of it, of course. In another moment something +black appeared over the low sill; it was a man's head. My heart +seemed to stand still. She helped him, and he got in without making +a sound. He must have climbed up the big elm-tree which grew close +against the house. They stood whispering together for a few minutes, +but I could not hear a word.</p> + +<p>"The man was in stocking feet; he had an evil, coarse face, yet he +was good-looking, too, in a way. I thought the girl seemed frightened, +and yet pleased, too; and he seemed to be praising her, I thought, +and once he put his arms round her and kissed her. She went to the +wardrobe and opened it, but he shook his head; then she opened the +great cedar trunk, and he nodded, and measured it and got into it +and sat down. It was so deep that he could sit quite comfortably +with the cover down. Annie shut it and then opened it again.</p> + +<p>"I had seen all I wanted to see. I slipped down-stairs as I heard +her move toward the door; when she came down I was stirring my cocoa +on the stove, with my back to her. She came round and showed me a +bundle she had in her hand, and said she must be going now. I kept +my face in the shadow as well as I could, for I was afraid I might +not be able to look just as usual; but I spoke quietly, and asked +her if she had found everything, and wished her good night as +pleasantly as I knew how. All the while my head was in a whirl and +my heart beat so loud I thought she must have heard it. There was a +good deal of silver in the house, and I knew that Mr. Bowles had +drawn some money from the bank only a day or two before, to pay a +life-insurance premium.</p> + +<p>"I never listened to anything as I did to the sound of her footsteps; +even after they had died away, after she had turned the corner, a +good way off, I stood still, listening, not stirring hand or foot. +But when I no longer heard any sound my strength seemed to come back +with a leap, and I knew what I had to do. I told you my shoes made +no noise. I slipped up-stairs, through my own room, and into the shed +chamber. Girls, it lay so peaceful and bare in the white moonlight, +that for a moment I thought I must have dreamed it all.</p> + +<p>"It seemed half a mile to the farther end, where the great cedar +trunk stood. As I went a board creaked under my feet, and I +heard—or fancied I heard—a faint rustle inside the trunk. I began +to hum a tune, and moved about among the trunks, raising and +shutting the lids, as if I were looking for something. Now at last I +was beside the dreadful chest, and in another instant I had turned +the key. Then, girls, I flew! I knew the lock was a stout one and +the wood heavy and hard; it would take the man some time to get it +open from the inside, whatever tools he might have. I was +down-stairs in one breath, praying that I might be able to control my +voice so that it would not sound strange to the sick woman.</p> + +<p>"'Would you mind if I went out for a few minutes, Mrs. Bowles? The +moonlight is so lovely I thought I would like to take a little walk, +if there is nothing you want.'</p> + +<p>"She looked surprised, but said in her kind way, yes, certainly I +might go, only I'd better not go far.</p> + +<p>"I thanked her, and walked quietly out to the end of the garden walk; +then I ran! Girls, I had no idea I could run so! Strength seemed +given me, for I never felt my body. I was like a spirit flying or a +wind blowing. The road melted away before me, and all the time I saw +two things before my eyes as plain as I see you now,—the evil-faced +man working away at the lock of the cedar chest, and the sweet lady +sitting in the room below with her Bible on her knee. Yes, I thought +of the children, too, but it seemed to me no one, not even the +wickedest, could wish to hurt a child. So on I ran!</p> + +<p>"I reached the first house, but I knew there was no man there, only +two nervous old ladies. At the next house I should find two men, +George Brett and his father.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Lottie, my George, but I had never seen him then. He had only +lately come back from college. The first I saw of him was two +minutes later, when I ran almost into his arms as he came out of the +house. I can see him now, in the moonlight, tall and strong, with +his surprised eyes on me. I must have been a wild figure, I suppose. +I could hardly speak, but somehow I made him understand.</p> + +<p>"He turned back to the door and shouted to his father, who came +hurrying out; then he looked at me. 'Can you run back?' he asked.</p> + +<p>"I nodded. I had no breath for words but plenty for running, I +thought.</p> + +<p>"'Come on, then!'</p> + +<p>"Girls, it was twice as easy running with that strong figure beside +me. I noticed in all my hurry and distress how easily he ran, and I +felt my feet, that had grown heavy in the last few steps, light as +air again. Once I sobbed for breath, and he took my hand as we ran, +saying, 'Courage, brave girl!' We ran on hand in hand, and I never +failed again. We heard Mr. Brett's feet running, not far behind; he +was a strong, active man, but could not quite keep up with us.</p> + +<p>"As we neared the house, 'Quiet,' I said; 'Mrs. Bowles does not know.'"</p> + +<p>He nodded, and we slipped in at the back door. In an instant his +shoes were off and he was up the back stairs like a cat, and I after +him. As we entered the shed chamber the lid of the cedar trunk rose.</p> + +<p>I saw the gleam of the evil black eyes and the shine of white, +wolfish teeth. Without a sound George Brett sprang past me; without +a sound the robber leaped to meet him. I saw them in the white light +as they clinched and stood locked together; then a mist came before +my eyes and I saw nothing more.</p> + +<p>"I did not actually faint, I think; it cannot have been more than a +few minutes before I came to myself. But when I looked again George +was kneeling with his knee on the man's breast, holding him down, +and Father Brett was looking about the chamber and saying, in his +dry way, 'Now where in Tunkett is the clothes-line to tie this fellow?'</p> + +<p>"And the girl? Annie? O girls, she was so young! She was just my own +age and she had no mother. I went to see her the next day, and many +days after that. We are fast friends now, and she is a good, steady +girl; and no one knows—no one except our two selves and two +others—that she was ever in the shed chamber."</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="maine"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +MAINE TO THE RESCUE</h2></center> +<br> +<p> +"Oh, dear! oh, dear! It's snowing!"</p> + +<p>"Hurrah! hurrah! It's snowing!"</p> + +<p>Massachusetts looked up from her algebra. She was the head of the +school. She was rosy and placid as the apple she was generally +eating when not in class. Apples and algebra were the things she +cared most about in school life.</p> + +<p>"Whence come these varying cries?" she said, taking her feet off the +fender and trying to be interested, though her thoughts went on with +"a 1/6 b =" etc.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Virginia is grumbling because it is snowing, and Maine is +feeling happy over it, that's all!" said Rhode Island, the smallest +girl in Miss Wayland's school.</p> + +<p>"Poor Virginia! It is rather hard on you to have snow in March, when +you have just got your box of spring clothes from home."</p> + +<p>"It is atrocious!" said Virginia, a tall, graceful, languishing girl. +"How could they send me to such a place, where it is winter all the +spring? Why, at home the violets are in blossom, the trees are coming +out, the birds singing—"</p> + +<p>"And at home," broke in Maine, who was a tall girl, too, but lithe +and breezy as a young willow, with flyaway hair and dancing brown +eyes, "at home all is winter—white, beautiful, glorious winter, +with ice two or three feet thick on the rivers, and great fields and +fields of snow, all sparkling in the sun, and the sky a vast +sapphire overhead, without a speck. Oh, the glory of it, the +splendor of it! And here—here it is neither fish, flesh, fowl, nor +good red herring. A wretched, makeshift season, which they call +winter because they don't know what else to call it."</p> + +<p>"Come! come!" said Old New York, who was seventeen years old and had +her own ideas of dignity. "Let us alone, you two outsiders! We are +neither Eskimos nor Hindoos, it is true, but the Empire State would +not change climates with either of you."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed!" chimed in Young New York, who always followed her +leader in everything, from opinions down to hair-ribbons.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed!" repeated Virginia, with languid scorn. "Because you +couldn't get any one to change with you, my dear."</p> + +<p>Young New York reddened. "You are so disagreeable, Virginia!" she +said. "I am sure I am glad I don't have to live with you all the +year round—"</p> + +<p>"Personal remarks!" said Massachusetts, looking up calmly. "One cent, +Young New York, for the missionary fund. Thank you! Let me give you +each half an apple, and you will feel better."</p> + +<p>She solemnly divided a large red apple, and gave the halves to the +two scowling girls, who took them, laughing in spite of themselves, +and went their separate ways.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you let them have it out, Massachusetts?" said Maine, +laughing. "You never let any one have a good row."</p> + +<p>"Slang!" said Massachusetts, looking up again. "One cent for the +missionary fund. You will clothe the heathen at this rate, Maine. +That is the fourth cent to-day."</p> + +<p>"'Row' isn't slang!" protested Maine, feeling, however, for her +pocket-book.</p> + +<p>"Vulgar colloquial!" returned Massachusetts, quietly. "And perhaps +you would go away now, Maine, or else be quiet. Have you learned—"</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't!" said Maine. "I will do it very soon, dear Saint +Apple. I must look at the snow a little more."</p> + +<p>Maine went dancing off to her room, where she threw the window open +and looked out with delight. The girl caught up a double handful and +tossed it about, laughing for pure pleasure. Then she leaned out to +feel the beating of the flakes on her face.</p> + +<p>"Really quite a respectable little snowstorm!" she said, nodding +approval at the whirling white drift. "Go on, and you will be worth +while, my dear." She went singing to her algebra, which she could not +have done if it had not been snowing.</p> + +<p>The snow went on increasing from hour to hour. By noon the wind +began to rise; before night it was blowing a furious gale. Furious +blasts clutched at the windows, and rattled them like castanets. The +wind howled and shrieked and moaned, till it seemed as if the air +were filled with angry demons fighting to possess the square white +house.</p> + +<p>Many of the pupils of Miss Wayland's school came to the tea-table +with disturbed faces; but Massachusetts was as calm as usual, and +Maine was jubilant.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a glorious storm?" she cried, exultingly. "I didn't know +there could be such a storm in this part of the country, Miss Wayland. +Will you give me some milk, please?"</p> + +<p>"There is no milk, my dear," said Miss Wayland, who looked rather +troubled. "The milkman has not come, and probably will not come +to-night. There has never been such a storm here in my lifetime!" +she added. "Do you have such storms at home, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, indeed!" Maine said, cheerfully. "I don't know that we +often have so much wind as this, but the snow is nothing out of the +way. Why, on Palm Sunday last year our milkman dug through a drift +twenty feet deep to get at his cows. He was the only milkman who +ventured out, and he took me and the minister's wife to church in +his little red pung.</p> + +<p>"We were the only women in church, I remember. Miss Betsy Follansbee, +who had not missed going to church in fifteen years, started on foot, +after climbing out of her bedroom window to the shed roof and +sliding down. All her doors were blocked up, and she lived alone, so +there was no one to dig her out. But she got stuck in a drift about +half-way, and had to stay there till one of the neighbors came by +and pulled her out."</p> + +<p>All the girls laughed at this, and even Miss Wayland smiled; but +suddenly she looked grave again.</p> + +<p>"Hark!" she said, and listened. "Did you not hear something?"</p> + +<p>"We hear Boreas, Auster, Eurus, and Zephyrus," answered Old New York. +"Nothing else."</p> + +<p>At that moment there was a lull in the screeching of the wind; all +listened intently, and a faint sound was heard from without which +was not that of the blast.</p> + +<p>"A child!" said Massachusetts, rising quickly. "It is a child's voice. +I will go, Miss Wayland."</p> + +<p>"I cannot permit it, Alice!" cried Miss Wayland, in great distress. +"I cannot allow you to think of it. You are just recovering from a +severe cold, and I am responsible to your parents. What shall we do? +It certainly sounds like a child crying out in the pitiless storm. +Of course it <i>may</i> be a cat—"</p> + +<p>Maine had gone to the window at the first alarm, and now turned with +shining eyes.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> a child!" she said, quietly. "I have no cold, Miss Wayland. +I am going, of course."</p> + +<p>Passing by Massachusetts, who had started out of her usual calm and +stood in some perplexity, she whispered, "If it were freezing, it +wouldn't cry. I shall be in time. Get a ball of stout twine."</p> + +<p>She disappeared. In three minutes she returned, dressed in her +blanket coat, reaching half-way below her knees, scarlet leggings +and gaily wrought moccasins; on her head a fur cap, with a band of +sea-otter fur projecting over her eyes. In her hand she held a pair +of snow-shoes. She had had no opportunity to wear her snow-shoeing +suit all winter, and she was quite delighted.</p> + +<p>"My child!" said Miss Wayland, faintly. "How can I let you go? My +duty to your parents—what are those strange things, and what use +are you going to make of them?"</p> + +<p>By way of answer Maine slipped her feet into the snow-shoes, and, +with Massachusetts' aid, quickly fastened the thongs.</p> + +<p>"The twine!" she said. "Yes, that will do; plenty of it. Tie it to +the door-handle, square knot, so! I'm all right, dear; don't worry." +Like a flash the girl was gone out into the howling night.</p> + +<p>Miss Wayland wrung her hands and wept, and most of the girls wept +with her. Virginia, who was curled up in a corner, really sick with +fright, beckoned to Massachusetts.</p> + +<p>"Is there any chance of her coming back alive?" she asked, in a +whisper. "I wish I had made up with her. But we may all die in this +awful storm."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" said Massachusetts. "Try to have a little sense, Virginia! +Maine is all right, and can take care of herself; and as for +whimpering at the wind, when you have a good roof over your head, it +is too absurd."</p> + +<p>For the first time since she came to school Massachusetts forgot the +study hour, as did every one else; and in spite of her brave efforts +at cheerful conversation, it was a sad and an anxious group that sat +about the fire in the pleasant parlor.</p> + +<p>Maine went out quickly, and closed the door behind her; then stood +still a moment, listening for the direction of the cry. She did not +hear it at first, but presently it broke out—a piteous little wail, +sounding louder now in the open air. The girl bent her head to listen. +Where was the child? The voice came from the right, surely! She +would make her way down to the road, and then she could tell better.</p> + +<p>Grasping the ball of twine firmly, she stepped forward, planting the +broad snow-shoes lightly in the soft, dry snow. As she turned the +corner of the house an icy blast caught her, as if with furious hands, +shook her like a leaf, and flung her roughly against the wall.</p> + +<p>Her forehead struck the corner, and for a moment she was stunned; +but the blood trickling down her face quickly brought her to herself. +She set her teeth, folded her arms tightly, and stooping forward, +measured her strength once more with that of the gale.</p> + +<p>This time it seemed as if she were cleaving a wall of ice, which +opened only to close behind her. On she struggled, unrolling her +twine as she went.</p> + +<p>The child's cry sounded louder, and she took fresh heart. Pausing, +she clapped her hand to her mouth repeatedly, uttering a shrill, +long call. It was the Indian whoop, which her father had taught her +in their woodland rambles at home.</p> + +<p>The childish wail stopped; she repeated the cry louder and longer; +then shouted, at the top of her lungs, "Hold on! Help is coming!"</p> + +<p>Again and again the wind buffeted her, and forced her backward a +step or two; but she lowered her head, and wrapped her arms more +tightly about her body, and plodded on.</p> + +<p>Once she fell, stumbling over a stump; twice she ran against a tree, +for the white darkness was absolutely blinding, and she saw nothing, +felt nothing but snow, snow. At last her snow-shoe struck something +hard. She stretched out her hands—it was the stone wall. And now, +as she crept along beside it, the child's wail broke out again close +at hand.</p> + +<p>"Mother! O mother! mother!"</p> + +<p>The girl's heart beat fast.</p> + +<p>"Where are you?" she cried. At the same moment she stumbled against +something soft. A mound of snow, was it? No! for it moved. It moved +and cried, and little hands clutched her dress.</p> + +<p>She saw nothing, but put her hands down, and touched a little cold +face. She dragged the child out of the snow, which had almost +covered it, and set it on its feet.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" she asked, putting her face down close, while by +vigorous patting and rubbing she tried to give life to the benumbed, +cowering little figure, which staggered along helplessly, clutching +her with half-frozen fingers.</p> + +<p>"Benny Withers!" sobbed the child. "Mother sent me for the clothes, +but I can't get 'em!"</p> + +<p>"Benny Withers!" cried Maine. "Why, you live close by. Why didn't +you go home, child?"</p> + +<p>"I can't!" cried the boy. "I can't see nothing. I tried to get to +the school, an' I tried to get home, an' I can't get nowhere 'cept +against this wall. Let me stay here now! I want to rest me a little."</p> + +<p>He would have sunk down again, but Maine caught him up in her strong, +young arms.</p> + +<p>"Here, climb up on my back, Benny!" she said, cheerfully. "Hold on +tight round my neck, and you shall rest while I take you home. So! +That's a brave boy! Upsy, now! there you are! Now put your head on +my shoulder—close! and hold on!"</p> + +<p>Ah! how Maine blessed the heavy little brother at home, who <i>would</i> +ride on his sister's back, long after mamma said he was too big. How +she blessed the carryings up and down stairs, the "horsey rides" +through the garden and down the lane, which had made her shoulders +strong!</p> + +<p>Benny Withers was eight years old, but he was small and slender, and +no heavier than six-year-old Philip. No need of telling the child to +hold on, once he was up out of the cruel snow bed. He clung +desperately round the girl's neck, and pressed his head close +against the woollen stuff.</p> + +<p>Maine pulled her ball of twine from her pocket—fortunately it was a +large one, and the twine, though strong, was fine, so that there +seemed to be no end to it—and once more lowered her head, and set +her teeth, and moved forward, keeping close to the wall, in the +direction of Mrs. Withers's cottage.</p> + +<p>For awhile she saw nothing, when she looked up under the fringe of +otter fur, which, long and soft, kept the snow from blinding her; +nothing but the white, whirling drift which beat with icy, stinging +blows in her face. But at last her eyes caught a faint glimmer of +light, and presently a brighter gleam showed her Mrs. Withers's gray +cottage, now white like the rest of the world.</p> + +<p>Bursting open the cottage door, she almost threw the child into the +arms of his mother.</p> + +<p>The woman, who had been weeping wildly, could hardly believe her eyes. +She caught the little boy and smothered him with kisses, chafing his +cold hands, and crying over him.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know!" she said. "I didn't know till he was gone. I told +him at noon he was to go, never thinking 'twould be like this. I was +sure he was lost and dead, but I couldn't leave my sick baby. Bless +you, whoever you are, man or woman! But stay and get warm, and rest +ye! You're never going out again in this awful storm!"</p> + +<p>But Maine was gone.</p> + +<p>In Miss Wayland's parlor the suspense was fast becoming unendurable. +They had heard Maine's Indian whoop, and some of them, Miss Wayland +herself among the number, thought it was a cry of distress; but +Massachusetts rightly interpreted the call, and assured them that it +was a call of encouragement to the bewildered child.</p> + +<p>Then came silence within the house, and a prolonged clamor—a sort +of witches' chorus, with wailing and shrieking without. Once a heavy +branch was torn from one of the great elms, and came thundering down +on the roof. This proved the finishing touch for poor Virginia. She +went into violent hysterics, and was carried off to bed by Miss Way +land and Old New York.</p> + +<p>Massachusetts presently ventured to explore a little. She hastened +through the hall to the front door, opened it a few inches, and put +her hand on the twine which was fastened to the handle. What was her +horror to find that it hung loose, swinging idly in the wind! Sick +at heart, she shut the door, and pressing her hands over her eyes, +tried to think.</p> + +<p>Maine must be lost in the howling storm! She must find her; but +where and how?</p> + +<p>Oh! if Miss Wayland had only let her go at first! She was older; it +would not have mattered so much.</p> + +<p>But now, quick! she would wrap herself warmly, and slip out without +any one knowing.</p> + +<p>The girl was turning to fly up-stairs, when suddenly something fell +heavily against the door outside. There was a fumbling for the handle; +the next moment it flew open, and something white stumbled into the +hall, shut the door, and sat down heavily on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Personal—rudeness!" gasped Maine, struggling for breath. "You shut +the door in my face! One cent for the missionary fund."</p> + +<p>The great storm was over. The sun came up, and looked down on a +strange, white world. No fences, no walls; only a smooth ridge where +one of these had been. Trees which the day before had been quite +tall now looked like dwarfs, spreading their broad arms not far from +the snow carpet beneath them. Road there was none; all was smooth, +save where some huge drift nodded its crest like a billow curling +for its downward rush.</p> + +<p>Maine, spite of her scarred face, which showed as many patches as +that of a court lady in King George's times, was jubilant. Tired! +not a bit of it! A little stiff, just enough to need "limbering out," +as they said at home.</p> + +<p>"There is no butter!" she announced at breakfast. "There is no milk, +no meat for dinner. Therefore, I go a-snow-shoeing. Dear Miss Wayland, +let me go! I have learned my algebra, and I shall be discovering +unknown quantities at every step, which will be just as instructive."</p> + +<p>Miss Wayland could refuse nothing to the heroine of last night's +adventure. Behold Maine, therefore, triumphant, sallying forth, clad +once more in her blanket suit, and dragging her sled behind her.</p> + +<p>There was no struggling now—no hand-to-hand wrestling with +storm-demons. The sun laughed from a sky as blue and deep as her own +sky of Maine, and the girl laughed with him as she walked along, the +powdery snow flying in a cloud from her snow-shoes at every step.</p> + +<p>Such a sight had never been seen in Mentor village before. The +people came running to their upper windows—their lower ones were +for the most part buried in snow—and stared with all their eyes at +the strange apparition.</p> + +<p>In the street, life was beginning to stir. People had found, +somewhat to their own surprise, that they were alive and well after +the blizzard; and knots of men were clustered here and there, +discussing the storm, while some were already at work tunnelling +through the drifts.</p> + +<p>Mr. Perkins, the butcher, had just got his door open, and great was +his amazement when Maine hailed him from the top of a great drift, +and demanded a quarter of mutton with some soup meat.</p> + + + +<a name="drift"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="4w_drift.jpg (97K)" src="4w_drift.jpg" height="1090" width="666"> +<br> +<p>["MAINE HAILED HIM FROM THE TOP OF A GREAT DRIFT."]</p> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"Yes, miss!" he stammered, open-mouthed with astonishment. "I—I've +got the meat; but I wasn't—my team isn't out this morning. I don't +know about sending it."</p> + +<p>"I have a 'team' here!" said Maine, quietly, pulling her sled +alongside. "Give me the mutton, Mr. Perkins; you may charge it to +Miss Wayland, please, and I will take it home."</p> + +<p>The butter-man and the grocer were visited in the same way, and Maine, +rather embarrassed by the concentrated observation of the whole +village, turned to pull her laden sled back, when suddenly a window +was thrown open, and a voice exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Young woman! I will give you ten dollars for the use of those +snow-shoes for an hour!"</p> + +<p>Maine looked up in amazement, and laughed merrily when she saw the +well-known countenance of the village doctor.</p> + +<p>"What! You, my dear young lady?" cried the good man. "This is 'Maine +to the Rescue,' indeed! I might have known it was you. But I repeat +my offer. Make it anything you please, only let me have the +snow-shoes. I cannot get a horse out, and have two patients +dangerously ill. What is your price for the magic shoes?"</p> + +<p>"My price, doctor?" repeated Maine, looking up with dancing eyes. +"My price is—one cent. For the Missionary Fund! The snow-shoes are +yours, and I will get home somehow with my sled and the mutton."</p> + +<p>So she did, and Doctor Fowler made his calls with the snow-shoes, +and saved a life, and brought cheer and comfort to many. But it was +ten dollars, and not one cent, which he gave to the Missionary Fund.</p> + +<br><br> +<br><br> +<a name="scarlet"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<h2> +THE SCARLET LEAVES</h2></center> +<br> +<p> +"The Committee will please come to order!" said Maine.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" asked Massachusetts, pausing in her occupation of +peeling chestnuts.</p> + +<p>"Why, you know well enough, Massachusetts. Here it is Wednesday, and +we don't know yet what we are going to do on Friday evening. We must +do something, or go shamed to our graves. Never a senior class has +missed its Frivolous Friday, since the school began."</p> + +<p>"Absolutely no hope of the play?"</p> + +<p>"None! Alma's part is too important; no one could possibly take it +at two days' notice. Unless—they say Chicago has a real gift for +acting; but somehow, I don't feel as if she were the person."</p> + +<p>"I should bar that, positively," put in Tennessee. "In the first +place, Chicago has not been here long enough to be identified with +the class. She is clever, of course, or she could not have entered +junior last year; but—well, it isn't necessary to say anything more; +she is out of the question."</p> + +<p>"It is too exasperating!" said Massachusetts. "Alma might have +waited another week before coming down with measles."</p> + +<p>"It's harder for her than for any one else, Massachusetts," said +Maine. "Poor dear; she almost cried her eyes out yesterday, when the +spots appeared, and there was no more doubt."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that; she is a poor, unfortunate Lamb, and I love her, +you know I do; still, a growl may be permitted, Maine. There's +nothing criminal in a growl. The question is, as you were saying, +what shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"A dance?"</p> + +<p>"We had a dance last week!" said Maine; "at least the sophomores did, +and we don't want to copy them."</p> + +<p>"A straw-ride?"</p> + +<p>"A candy-pull?"</p> + +<p>"A concert?"</p> + +<p>"The real question is," said Tennessee, cracking her chestnut +leisurely, "what does Maine intend to do? If she thinks we made her +Class President because we meant to arrange things ourselves, she is +more ignorant than I supposed her. Probably she has the whole thing +settled in her Napoleonic mind. Out with it, Moosetocmaguntic!"</p> + +<p>Maine smiled, and looked round her. The Committee was clustered in a +group at the foot of a great chestnut-tree, at the very edge of a +wood. The leaves were still thick on the trees, and the October sun +shone through their golden masses, pouring a flood of warmth and +light down on the greensward, sprinkled with yellow leaves and +half-open chestnut burrs. Massachusetts and Tennessee, sturdy and +four-square as their own hills; Old New York and New Jersey, and +Maine herself, a tall girl with clear, kind eyes, and a color that +came and went as she talked. This was the Committee.</p> + + + +<a name="conference"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="5w_conference.jpg (138K)" src="5w_conference.jpg" height="1057" width="670"> +<br> +<p>[THE CONFERENCE.]</p> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"Well," said Maine, modestly. "I did have an idea, girls. I don't +know whether you will approve or not, but—what do you say to a +fancy ball?"</p> + +<p>"A fancy ball! at two days' notice!"</p> + +<p>"Penobscot is losing her mind. Pity to see it shattered, for it was +once a fine organ."</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Tennessee! I don't mean anything elaborate, of course. +But I thought we might have an informal frolic, and dress up in—oh, +anything we happened to have. Not call it a dance, but have dancing +all the same; don't you see? There are all kinds of costumes that +can be got up with very little trouble, and no expense to speak of."</p> + +<p>"For example!" said Massachusetts. "She has it all arranged, girls; +all we have to do is to sit back and let wisdom flow in our ears."</p> + +<p>"Massachusetts, if you tease me any more, <i>I'll</i> sit back, and let +you do it all yourself. Well, then—let me see! Tennessee—to tell +the truth, I didn't sleep very well last night; my head ached; and I +amused myself by planning a few costumes, just in case you should +fancy the idea."</p> + +<p>"Quack! quack!" said Massachusetts. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but +you <i>are</i> a duck, and I must just show that I can speak your language. +Go on!"</p> + +<p>"Tennessee, I thought you might be an Indian. You must have something +that will show your hair. With my striped shawl for a blanket, and +the cock's feather out of Jersey's hat—what do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Perfect!" said Tennessee. "And I can try effects with my new +paint-box, one cheek stripes, the other spots. Hurrah! next!"</p> + +<p>"Old New York, you must be a flower of some kind. Or—why not a +basket of flowers? You could have a basket-work bodice, don't you see? +and flowers coming out of it all round your neck—your neck is so +pretty, you ought to show it—"</p> + +<p>"Or carrots and turnips!" said the irrepressible Massachusetts. +"Call her a Harvest Hamper, and braid her lovely locks with strings +of onions!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you," laughed Old New York, a slender girl whose flower-like +beauty made her a pleasure to look at. "I think I'll keep to the posy, +Massachusetts. Go on, Maine! what shall Massachusetts be, and what +will you be yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Massachusetts ought by rights to be an apple, a nice fat rosy apple; +but I don't quite know how that can be managed."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall be a codfish!" said Massachusetts, decidedly. +"I am not going to desert Mr. Micawber—I mean the Bay State. I +shall go as a salt codfish. <i>Dixi</i>! Pass on to the Pine-Tree!"</p> + +<p>"Why, so I might be a pine-tree! I didn't think of that. But still, +I don't think I will; I meant to be October. The leaves at home are +so glorious in October, and I saw some scarlet leaves yesterday that +will be lovely for chaplets and garlands."</p> + +<p>"What are they? the maples don't turn red here—too near the sea, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what they are. Pointed leaves, rather long and delicate, +and the most splendid color you ever saw. There is just this one +little tree, near the crossroad by the old stone house. I haven't +seen anything like it about here. I found it yesterday, and just +stood and looked at it, it was so beautiful. Yes, I shall be October; +I'll decide on that. What's that rustling in the wood? aren't we all +here? I thought I heard something moving among the trees. I do +believe some one is in there, Massachusetts."</p> + +<p>"I was pulling down a branch; don't be imaginative, my dear. Well, +go on! are we to make out all the characters?"</p> + +<p>"Why—I thought not. Some of the girls will like better to choose +their own, don't you think? I thought we, as the Committee, might +make out a list of suggestions, though, and then they can do as they +please. But now, I wish some of you others would suggest something; +I don't want to do it all."</p> + +<p>"Daisy will have to be her namesake, of course," said Tennessee.</p> + +<p>"Jersey can be a mosquito," said Old New York; "she's just the +figure for it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" said Jersey, who weighed ninety pounds. "Going on that +theory, Pennsylvania ought to go as an elephant, and Rhode Island as +a giraffe."</p> + +<p>"And Chicago as a snake—no! I didn't mean that!" cried Maine.</p> + +<p>"You said it! you said it!" cried several voices, in triumph.</p> + +<p>"The Charitable Organ has called names at last!" said Jersey, +laughing. "And she has hit it exactly. Now, Maine, what is the use +of looking pained? the girl <i>is</i> a snake—or a sneak, which amounts +to the same thing. Let us have truth, I say, at all hazards."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry!" said Maine, simply. "I am not fond of Chicago, and +that is the very reason why I should not call her names behind her +back. It slipped out before I knew it; I am sorry and ashamed, and +that is all there is to say. And now, suppose we go home, and tell +the other girls about the party."</p> + +<p>The Committee trooped off across the hill, laughing and talking, +Maine alone grave and silent. As their voices died away, the ferns +nodded beside a great pine-tree that stood just within the border of +the wood, not six yards from where they had been sitting. A slender +dark girl rose from the fern-clump in which she had been crouching, +and shook the pine-needles from her dress. Very cautiously she +parted the screen of leaves, and looked after the retreating girls.</p> + +<p>"That was worth while!" she said; and her voice, though quiet, was +full of ugly meaning. "Snakes can hear, Miss Oracle, and bite, too. +We'll see about those scarlet leaves!"</p> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +PART II</p> + +<p> + "Tra la, tra lee, + I want my tea!"</p> + +<p>Sang Tennessee, as she ran up-stairs. "Oh, Maine, is that you? my +dear, my costume is simply too perfect for anything. I've been out +in the woods, practising my war-whoop. Three yelps and a screech; I +flatter myself it is the <i>most</i> blood-curdling screech you ever heard. +I'm going to have a dress-rehearsal now, all by myself. Come and +see—why, what's the matter, Maine? something is wrong with you. +What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! nothing serious," said Maine, trying to speak lightly. +"I must get up another costume, that's all, and there isn't much time."</p> + +<p>"Why! what has happened?"</p> + +<p>"The scarlet leaves are gone."</p> + +<p>"Gone! fallen, do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"No! some one has cut or broken every branch. There is not one left. +The leaves made the whole costume, you see; it amounts to nothing +without them, merely a yellow gown."</p> + +<p>"Oh! my dear, what a shame! Who could have taken them?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot imagine. I thought I would get them to-day, and keep them +in water over night, so as to have them all ready to-morrow. Oh, well, +it can't be helped. I can call myself a sunflower, or Black-eyed +Susan, or some other yellow thing. It's absurd to mind, of course, +only—"</p> + +<p>"Only, being human, you do mind," said Tennessee, putting her arm +round her friend's waist. "I should think so, dear. We don't care +about having you canonized just yet. But, Maine, there must be more +red leaves somewhere. This comes of living near the sea. Now, in my +mountains, or in your woods, we could just go out and fill our arms +with glory in five minutes, whichever way we turned. These murmuring +pines and—well, I don't know that there are any hemlocks—are all +very splendid, and no one loves them better than I do; but for a +Harvest festival decoration, '<i>Ils ne sont pas là dedans</i>,' as the +French have it."</p> + +<p>"Slang, Tennessee! one cent!"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary; foreign language, mark of commendation.</p> + +<p>"But come now, and see my war-dance. I didn't mean to let any one +see it before-hand, but you are a dear old thing, and you shall. And +then, we can take counsel about your costume. Not that I have the +smallest anxiety about that; I've no doubt you have thought of +something pretty already. I don't see how you do it. When any one +says 'Clothes' to me, I never can think of anything but red flannel +petticoats, if you will excuse my mentioning the article. I think +Black-eyed Susan sounds delightful. How would you dress for it? you +have the pretty yellow dress all ready."</p> + +<p>"I should put brown velveteen with it. I have quite a piece left +over from my blouse. I'll get some yellow crêpe paper, and make a hat, +or cap, with a brown crown, you know, and yellow petals for the brim; +and have a brown bodice laced together over the full yellow waist, +and—"</p> + +<p>The two girls passed on, talking cheerfully—it is always soothing +to talk about pretty clothes, especially when one is as clever as +Maine was, and can make, as Massachusetts used to say, a court train +out of a jack-towel.</p> + +<p>A few minutes after, Massachusetts came along the same corridor, and +tapped at another door. Hearing "Come in!" she opened the door and +looked in.</p> + +<p>"Busy, Chicago? beg pardon! Miss Cram asked me, as I was going by, to +show you the geometry lesson, as you were not in class yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Thanks! come in, won't you?" said Chicago, rising ungraciously from +her desk, "I was going to ask Miss Cram, of course, but I'm much +obliged."</p> + +<p>Massachusetts pointed out the lesson briefly, and turned to go, when +her eyes fell on a jar set on the ground, behind the door.</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" she said, abruptly. "You've got scarlet leaves, too. Where +did you get them?"</p> + +<p>"I found them," said Chicago, coldly. "They were growing wild, on +the public highway. I had a perfect right to pick them."</p> + +<p>There was a defiant note in her voice, and Massachusetts looked at +her with surprise. The girl's eyes glittered with an uneasy light, +and her dark cheek was flushed.</p> + +<p>"I don't question your right," said Massachusetts, bluntly, +"but I do question your sense. I may be mistaken, but I don't +believe those leaves are very good to handle. They look to me +uncommonly like dogwood. I'm not sure; but if I were you, I would +show them to Miss Flower before I touched them again."</p> + +<p>She nodded and went out, dismissing the matter from her busy mind.</p> + +<p>"Spiteful!" said Chicago, looking after her sullenly.</p> + +<p>"She suspects where I got the leaves, and thinks she can frighten me +out of wearing them. I never saw such a hateful set of girls as +there are in this school. Never mind, sweet creatures! The 'snake' +has got the scarlet leaves, and she knows when she has got a good +thing."</p> + +<p>She took some of the leaves from the jar, and held them against her +black hair. They were brilliantly beautiful, and became her well. +She looked in the glass and nodded, well pleased with what she saw +there; then she carefully clipped the ends of the branches, and put +fresh water in the jar before replacing them.</p> + +<p>"Indian Summer will take the shine out of Black-eyed Susan, I'm +afraid," she said to herself. "Poor Susan, I am sorry for her." She +laughed; it was not a pleasant laugh; and went back to her books.</p> + +<br><br><br><br> + +<p> +PART III.</p> + +<p> +"What a pretty sight!"</p> + +<p>It was Miss Wayland who spoke. She and the other teachers were +seated on the raised platform at the end of the gymnasium. The long +room was wreathed with garlands and brilliantly lighted, and they +were watching the girls as they flitted by in their gay dresses, to +the waltz that good Miss Flower was playing.</p> + +<p>"How ingenious the children are!" Miss Wayland continued. "Look at +Virginia there, as Queen Elizabeth! Her train is my old party cloak +turned inside out, and her petticoat—you recognize that?"</p> + +<p>"I, not!" said Mademoiselle, peering forward. "I am too near of my +sight. What ees it?"</p> + +<p>"The piano cover. That Persian silk, you know, that my brother sent +me. I never knew how handsome it was before. The ruff, and those +wonderful puffed sleeves, are mosquito-netting; the whole effect is +superb—at a little distance."</p> + +<p>"I thought Virginie not suffeeciently clayver for to effect zis!" +said Mademoiselle. "Of custome, she shows not—what do you say? +—invention."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she simply wears the costume, with her own peculiar little air +of dignity. Maine designed it. Maine is costumer in chief. The +Valiant Three, Maine, Massachusetts, and Tennessee, took all the +unpractical girls in hand, and simply—dressed them. <i>Entre nous</i>, +Mademoiselle, I wish, in some cases, that they would do it every day."</p> + +<p>"<i>Et moi aussi</i>!" exclaimed Mademoiselle, nodding eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Maine herself is lovely," said Miss Cram. "I think hers is really +the prettiest costume in the room; all that soft brown and yellow is +really charming, and suits her to perfection."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I am so glad of it, for the child was sadly disappointed +about some other costume she had planned, and got this up almost at +the last moment. She is a clever child, and a good one. Do look at +Massachusetts! Massachusetts, my dear child, what do you call +yourself? you are a most singular figure."</p> + +<p>"The Codfish, Miss Wayland; straight from Boston State-House. Admire +my tail, please! I got up at five o'clock this morning to finish it, +and I must confess I am proud of it."</p> + +<p>She napped her tail, which was a truly astonishing one, made of +newspapers neatly plaited and sewed together, and wriggled her body, +clad in well-fitting scales of silver paper. "Quite a fish, I +flatter myself?" she said, insinuatingly.</p> + +<p>"Very like a whale, if not like a codfish," said Miss Wayland, +laughing heartily. "You certainly are one of the successes of the +evening, Massachusetts, and the Mosquito is another, in that filmy +gray. Is that mosquito-netting, too? I congratulate you both on your +skill. By the way, what does Chicago represent? she is very effective, +with all those scarlet leaves. What are they, I wonder!"</p> + +<p>Massachusetts turned hastily, and a low whistle came from her lips. +"Whew! I beg pardon, Miss Wayland. It was the codfish whistled, not I; +it's a way they have on Friday evenings. I told that girl to ask +Miss Flower about those leaves; I am afraid they are—oh, here is +Miss Flower!" as the good botany teacher came towards them, rather +out of breath after her playing.</p> + +<p>"Miss Flower, what are those leaves, please? those in Chicago's hair, +and on her dress."</p> + +<p>Miss Flower looked, and her cheerful face grew grave.</p> + +<p>"<i>Rhus veneneta</i>" she said; "poison dogwood."</p> + +<p>"I was afraid so!" said Massachusetts. "I told her yesterday that I +thought they were dogwood, and advised her to show them to you +before she touched them again."</p> + +<p>"Poor child!" said kind Miss Flower. "She has them all about her +face and neck, too. We must get them off at once."</p> + +<p>She was starting forward, but Miss Wayland detained her.</p> + +<p>"The mischief is done now, is it not?" she said. "And after all, +dogwood does not poison every one. I have had it in my hands, and +never got the smallest injury. Suppose we let her have her evening, +at least till after supper, which will be ready now in a few minutes. +If she is affected by the poison, this is her last taste of the +Harvest Festivities."</p> + +<p>They watched the girl. She was receiving compliments on her striking +costume, from one girl and another, and was in high spirits. She +glanced triumphantly about her, her eyes lighting up when they fell +on Maine in her yellow dress. She certainly looked brilliantly +handsome, the flaming scarlet of the leaves setting off her dark +skin and flashing eyes to perfection.</p> + +<p>Presently she put her hand up to her cheek, and held it there a +moment.</p> + +<p>"Aha!" said Massachusetts, aloud. "She's in for it!"</p> + +<p>"In for what?" said Maine, who came up at that moment. Following the +direction of Massachusetts' eyes, she drew her apart, and spoke in a +low tone. "I shall not say anything, Massachusetts, and I hope you +will not. Don't you know?" she added, seeing her friend's look of +inquiry. "Those are my scarlet leaves."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I have found out all about it. Daisy lingered behind the rest +of us the other day, when I had been telling you all about the leaves, +to pick blackberries. She saw Chicago come out of the wood a few +minutes after we left, looking black as thunder. Don't you remember, +I thought I heard a rustling in the fern, and you laughed at me? She +was hidden there, and heard every word we said. Next day the leaves +were gone, and now they are on Chicago's dress instead of mine."</p> + +<p>"And a far better place for them!" exclaimed Massachusetts, +"though I am awfully sorry for her. Oh! you lucky, lucky girl! and +you dear, precious, stupid ignoramus, not to know poison dogwood +when you see it."</p> + +<p>"Poison dogwood! those beautiful leaves!"</p> + +<p>"Those beautiful leaves. That young woman is in for about two weeks +of as pretty a torture as ever Inquisitor or Iroquois could devise. +I know all about it, though there was a time when I also was ignorant. +Look! she is feeling of her cheek already; it begins to sting. +Tomorrow she will be all over patches, red and white; itching—there +is nothing to describe the itching. It is beyond words. Next day her +face will begin to swell, and in two days more—the School Birthday, +my dear—she will be like nothing human, a mere shapeless lump of +pain and horror. She will not sleep by night or rest by day. She +will go home to her parents, and they will not know her, but will +think we have sent them a smallpox patient by mistake. Her eyes—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hush! hush, Massachusetts!" cried Maine. "Oh! poor thing! poor +thing! what shall I do? I feel as if it were all my fault, somehow."</p> + +<p>"Your fault that she sneaked and eavesdropped, and then stole your +decoration? Oh! come, Maine, don't be fantastic!"</p> + +<p>"No, Massachusetts, I don't mean that. But if I had only known, +myself, what they were, I should never have spoken of them, and all +this would never have happened."</p> + +<p>"The moral of which is, study botany!" said Massachusetts.</p> + +<p>"I'll begin to-morrow!" said Maine.</p> + +<hr> + +<p>"And what is to be the end of the dogwood story, I wonder!" said +Tennessee, meeting Massachusetts in a breathless interval between +two exercises on the School Birthday, the crowning event of the +Harvest Festivities at Miss Wayland's. "Have you heard the last +chapter?"</p> + +<p>"No! what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Maine is in a dark room with the moaning Thing that was Chicago, +singing to her, and telling her about the speeches and things last +night. She vows she will not come out again to-day, just because she +was at chapel and heard the singing this morning; says that was the +best of it, and she doesn't care much about dancing. Maine! and +Miss Wayland will not let us break in the door and carry her off +bodily; says she will be happier where she is, and will always be +glad of this day. I'll tell you what it is, Massachusetts, if this +is the New England conscience I hear so much about, I'm precious +glad I was born in Tennessee."</p> + +<p>"No, you aren't, Old One! you wish you had been born in Maine."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps I do!" said Tennessee.</p> + +<p> +THE END.</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Green Satin Gown, by Laura E. 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