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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Bookful of Girls, by Anna Fuller
+
+
+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: A Bookful of Girls
+
+
+Author: Anna Fuller
+
+
+
+Release Date: April 8, 2009  [eBook #28538]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOKFUL OF GIRLS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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+
+
+
+
+
+A BOOKFUL OF GIRLS
+
+by
+
+ANNA FULLER
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+ By Anna Fuller
+
+ A Literary Courtship
+ A Venetian June
+ Peak and Prairie
+ Pratt Portraits
+ Later Pratt Portraits
+ One of the Pilgrims
+ Katherine Day
+ A Bookful of Girls
+
+ The Thunderhead Lady
+ By Anna Fuller and Brian Read
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "Suddenly a new sound reached her ear."]
+
+A BOOKFUL OF GIRLS
+
+by
+
+ANNA FULLER
+
+Author of "Pratt Portraits," "Katherine Day," etc.
+
+Illustrated
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+G. P. Putnam's Sons
+New York and London
+
+The Knickerbocker Press
+
+Copyright, 1905
+by
+Anna Fuller
+
+The Knickerbocker Press, New York
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+S. E. R.
+
+THE YOUNGEST OF ALL MY FRIENDS
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                                  PAGE
+
+ Blythe Halliday's Voyage                                            1
+
+ Artful Madge                                                       63
+
+ The Ideas of Polly                                                130
+
+ Nannie's Theatre Party                                            196
+
+ Olivia's Sun-Dial                                                 219
+
+ Bagging a Grandfather                                             242
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                                                  PAGE
+
+ "Suddenly a new sound reached her ear."                _Frontispiece_
+
+ "Eleanor's eyes had wandered to the high, broad
+ north window."                                                     80
+
+ "Mufty hastily established himself across her
+ shoulder."                                                        142
+
+ "All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this
+ little hand."                                                     201
+
+ "Please ma'am, will ye gimme a bowkay?"                           227
+
+ "'Good afternoon, Grandfather,' was the
+ apparition's cheerful greeting."                                  255
+
+
+
+
+BLYTHE HALLIDAY'S VOYAGE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE CROW'S NEST
+
+
+"You never told me how you happened to name her Blythe."
+
+The two old friends, Mr. John DeWitt and Mrs. Halliday, were reclining
+side by side in their steamer-chairs, lulled into a quiescent mood by
+the gentle, scarcely perceptible, motion of the vessel. It was an
+exertion to speak, and Mrs. Halliday replied evasively, "Do you like
+the name?"
+
+"For Blythe,--yes. But I don't know another girl who could carry it
+off so well. Tell me how it happened."
+
+Then Blythe's mother reluctantly gathered herself together for a
+serious effort, and said: "It was the old Scotch nurse who did it. She
+called her 'a blythe lassie' before she was three days old. We had
+been hesitating between Lucretia for Charles's mother and Hannah for
+mine, and we compromised on Blythe!"
+
+Upon which the speaker, allowing her eyes to close definitively, took
+on the appearance of gentle inanition which characterised nine-tenths
+of her fellow-voyagers, ranged side by side in their steamer-chairs
+along the deck.
+
+They had passed the Azores, that lovely May morning, and were headed
+for Cape St. Vincent,--the good old _Lorelei_ lounging along at her
+easiest gait, the which is also her rapidest. For there is nothing
+more deceptive than a steamer's behaviour on a calm day when the sea
+offers no perceptible resistance to the keel.
+
+Here and there an insatiable novel-reader held a paper-covered volume
+before his nose, but more often the book had slid to the deck, to be
+picked up by Gustav, the prince of deck-stewards, and carefully tucked
+in among the wraps of the unconscious owner.
+
+Just now, however, Gustav was enjoying a moment of unaccustomed
+respite from activity, for his most exacting beneficiaries were not
+sufficiently awake to demand a service of him. He had administered
+_bouillon_ and lemonade and cracked ice by the gallon; he had
+scattered sandwiches and ginger cookies broadcast among them; he had
+tenderly inquired of the invalids, "'Ow you feel?" and had cheerfully
+pronounced them, one and all, to be "mush besser"; and now he himself
+was, for a fleeting moment, the centre of interest in the one tiny
+eddy of animation on the whole length of the deck.
+
+Just aft of the awning, in the full sunshine, he was engaged in
+"posing," with the sheepish air of a person having his photograph
+taken, while a fresh, comely girl of sixteen stood, kodak in hand,
+waiting for his attitude to relax. Half a dozen spectators, elderly
+men and small boys, stood about making facetious remarks, but Gustav
+and his youthful "operator" were too much in earnest to pay them much
+heed.
+
+Blythe Halliday was usually very much in earnest; by which is not to
+be inferred that she was of an alarmingly serious cast of mind. Her
+earnestness took the form of intense satisfaction in the matter in
+hand, whatever that might be, and she had found life a succession of
+delightful experiences, of which this one of an ocean voyage was
+perhaps the most delectable of all.
+
+In one particular Blythe totally disagreed with her mother; for Mrs.
+Halliday had declared, on one of the first universally unbecoming days
+of the voyage, that it was a mystery how all the agreeable people got
+to Europe, since so few of them were ever to be discovered on an ocean
+steamer! Whereas Blythe, for her part, had never dreamed that there
+were so many interesting persons in the world as were to be discovered
+among their fellow-voyagers.
+
+Was not the big, bluff Captain himself, with his unfathomable
+sea-craft and his autocratic power, a regular old Viking such as you
+might read of in your history books, but would hardly expect to meet
+with in the flesh? And was there not a real Italian Count, elderly
+but impressive, who had dealings with no one but his valet, the latter
+being a nimble personage with a wicked eye who seemed to possess the
+faculty of starting up through the deck as if summoned by a species of
+wireless telegraphy? Best of all, was not Blythe's opposite neighbour
+at the Captain's table a shaggy, keen-eyed Englishman, figuring on the
+passenger-list as "Mr. Grey," but who was generally believed to be no
+less a personage than Hugh Dalton, the famous poet, travelling
+incognito?
+
+This latter gentleman was more approachable than the Count, and had
+taken occasion to tell Blythe some very wonderful tales, besides still
+further endearing himself to her by listening with flattering
+attention to such narratives as she was pleased to relate for his
+benefit. Indeed, they were rapidly becoming fast friends and she was
+seriously contemplating a snap-shot at his expense.
+
+Mr. Grey, meanwhile, had joined the group in the sunshine, where he
+stood, pipe in mouth, with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of
+his reefer, regarding Gustav's awkwardness with kindly amusement.
+
+"There they go, those energetic young persons!" Mr. De Witt observed,
+a few minutes later, as Blythe and the Englishman walked past, in
+search of the Captain, whom Mr. Grey had suggested as the next subject
+for photographic prowess. "Do you suppose that really is Dalton?"
+
+Mr. De Witt spoke with entire disregard of the fact that Mrs. Halliday
+appeared to be slumbering tranquilly. And indeed an interrupted nap is
+so easily made good on shipboard that Blythe used sometimes to beg her
+mother to try and "fall awake" for a minute!
+
+On this occasion, as she walked past with the alleged poet, she
+remarked: "Even Mr. De Witt can't keep Mamma awake on shipboard, and
+she isn't a bit of a sleepy person on dry land."
+
+By way of response, Mr. Grey turned to contemplate the line of
+steamer-chairs, billowy with voluminous wraps, saying: "Doesn't the
+deck look like a sea becalmed? See! Those are the waves, too lazy to
+break!"
+
+"How funny the ocean would look if the waves forgot to turn over!"
+Blythe exclaimed, glancing across the gently undulating surface of the
+sea. "I don't suppose they've kept still one single instant in
+millions of years!"
+
+"Not since the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters," her
+companion returned, with quiet emphasis; and Blythe felt surer than
+ever that he really was the great poet whom people believed him to
+be.
+
+A moment later they had stormed the bridge, where they two, of all the
+ship's company, were pretty sure of a welcome. They found the Captain
+standing, with his sextant at his eye, the four gold stripes on his
+sleeve gleaming gaily in the sunshine. Evidently things were going
+right, for the visitors and their daring proposal were most graciously
+received.
+
+The fine old sea-dog stood like a man to be shot at; and as Blythe
+faced him, kodak in hand, the breeze playing pranks with her hair and
+blowing her golf-cape straight back from her shoulders, it was all so
+exhilarating that before she knew it she had turned her little camera
+upon the supposed Hugh Dalton himself, who made an absurd grimace and
+told her to "let her go!"
+
+It was always a delightful experience for Blythe to stand on the
+bridge and watch the ship's officers at their wonderful work of
+guiding the great sea-monster across the pathless deep. Here was the
+brain of the ship, as Mr. Grey had once pointed out, and to-day, when
+a sailor suddenly appeared above the gangway and, touching his hat,
+received a curt order,--"That is one of the nerves of the vessel," her
+companion said. "It carries the message of the brain to the furthest
+parts of the body."
+
+"And I suppose the eyes are up there," Blythe returned, glancing at
+the "crow's nest," half-way up the great forward mast, where the two
+lookouts were keeping their steady watch.
+
+"Yes," he rejoined, "that must be why they always have a pair of
+them,--so as to get a proper focus. _Nicht wahr, Herr Capitän?_"
+
+And the little fiction was explained to the Captain, who grew more
+genial than ever under the stimulus of such agreeable conversation.
+
+"_Ja wohl!_" he agreed, heartily; "_Ja wohl!_"--which was really quite
+an outburst of eloquence for Captain Seemann.
+
+"If I couldn't be captain," Blythe announced, "I think I should choose
+to be lookout."
+
+"How is dat?" the Captain inquired.
+
+"It must be the best place of all, away up above everything and
+everybody."
+
+"And you would like to go up dare?"
+
+"Of course I should!"
+
+"And you would not be afraid?"
+
+"Not I!"
+
+Upon which the Captain, in high good-humour, declared, "I belief
+you!"
+
+After that he fell to speaking German with Mr. Grey, and Blythe moved
+to the end of the bridge, and stood looking down upon the steerage
+passengers, where they were disporting themselves in the sun on the
+lower deck.
+
+They were a motley crew, and she never tired of watching them, as they
+sat about in picturesque groups, singing or playing games, or lay
+stretched on the deck, fast asleep.
+
+Somewhat apart from the others was a woman with a little girl whom
+Blythe had not before observed. The child lay on a bright shawl, her
+head against the woman's knee, her dark Italian eyes gazing straight
+up into the luminous blue of the sky. There was a curiously high-bred
+look in the pale features, young and unformed as they were, and Blythe
+wondered how such a child as that came to belong to the stout,
+middle-aged woman who did not herself seem altogether out of place in
+the rough steerage.
+
+At this point in her meditations, a quiet, matter-of-fact voice struck
+her ear, and, turning, she found that Mr. Grey had come up behind
+her.
+
+"The Captain says he will have the 'crow's nest' lowered and let you
+go up in it if you like," was the startling announcement which roused
+her from her revery.
+
+"Oh, you are making fun!" she protested.
+
+"I don't wonder you think so, but he seems quite in earnest, and I can
+tell you it's the chance of a lifetime!"
+
+"I should think it was!" she gasped. "Oh, tell him he's an angel with
+wings! And please, _please_ don't let him change his mind while I run
+and ask Mamma!" With which Blythe vanished down the gangway, her
+golf-cape rising straight up around her head as the draught took it.
+
+We may well believe that such a prospect as that drove from her mind
+all speculations as to the steerage passengers, and that even the
+thought of the little girl with the wonderful eyes did not again visit
+her in the few hours intervening.
+
+Yet when, that afternoon at eight-bells, she passed with Mr. Grey down
+the steep gangway to the steerage deck, which they were obliged to
+traverse on their way to the forecastle, and they came upon the
+little creature lying, with upturned face, against the woman's knee,
+Blythe felt a sharp pang of compunction and pity. The child looked
+even more pathetic than when seen from above, and the young girl
+involuntarily stooped in passing, and touched the wan little cheek.
+Whereupon one of those ineffable smiles which are the birthright of
+Italians lighted the little face, and the small hand was lifted with
+so captivating a gesture that Blythe, clasping it in her own, dropped
+on her knees beside the child.
+
+"Is it your little girl?" she asked, looking up into the face of the
+woman, whose marked unlikeness to the child was answer enough.
+
+"No, no, Signorina," the woman protested. "She is my little
+Signorina."
+
+"And you are taking her to Italy?"
+
+"_Si, Signorina; alla bella Italia_!"
+
+Then the lips of the little girl parted with a still more radiant
+smile, and she murmured, "_Alla bella Italia_!"
+
+A moment later, Blythe and her companion had passed on and up to the
+forward deck where, climbing a short ladder to the railing of the
+"crow's nest," they dropped lightly down into this most novel of
+elevators. There was a shrill whistle from the boatswain, the waving
+of white handkerchiefs where Mrs. Halliday and Mr. DeWitt stood,
+forward of the wheel-house, to watch the start; then the big windlass
+began to turn, the rope was "paid out," and the slow, rather creaky
+journey up the mast had begun.
+
+It was a perfect day for the adventure. The ship was not rolling at
+all, the little motion to be felt being a gentle tilt from stem to
+stern which manifested itself at long intervals in the slightest
+imaginable dip of the prow. And presently the ascent was accomplished,
+and the "crow's nest" once more clung in its accustomed place against
+the mast,--forty feet up in the air, according to Mr. Grey's
+reckoning.
+
+As they looked across the great sea the horizon seemed to have receded
+to an incalculable distance, and the airs that came to them across
+that broad expanse, unsullied by the faintest trace of man or his
+works, were purer than are often vouchsafed to mortals. Blythe felt
+her heart grow big with the sense of space and purity, and this
+wonderful swift passage through the upper air. Involuntarily she took
+off her hat to get the full sweep of the breeze upon her forehead.
+
+Suddenly, a new sound reached her ear,--a small, remote, confidential
+kind of voice, that seemed to arrive from nowhere in particular.
+
+"It's the Captain, hailing us through his megaphone," her companion
+remarked; and, glancing down, far down, in the direction of the
+bridge, Blythe beheld the Captain, looking curiously attenuated in the
+unusual perspective, standing with a gigantic object resembling a
+cornucopia raised to his lips.
+
+"You like it vare you are?" quoth the uncanny voice, not loud, but
+startlingly near.
+
+And Blythe nodded her head and waved her hat in vigorous assent.
+
+The great ship stretched long and narrow astern, the main deck shut in
+with awnings through which the huge smokestacks rose, and the
+wide-mouthed ventilators crooked their necks. Along either outer edge
+of the awnings a line of lifeboats showed, tied fast in their
+high-springing davits, while from the mouth of the yellow
+ship's-funnels black masses of smoke floated slowly and heavily
+astern. The _Lorelei_ swam the water like a wonderful white aquatic
+bird, leaving upon the quiet sea a long snowy track of foam.
+
+On a line with their lofty perch a sailor swung spider-like among the
+network of sheets and halyards that clung about the mainmast, its
+meshes clearly defined against the pure blue of the sky, while below
+there, on the bridge, the big brass nautical instruments gleamed, and
+the caps of the Captain and his lieutenants showed white in the sun.
+As Blythe glanced down and away from this stirring outlook, she could
+just distinguish among the dark figures of the steerage the small
+white face of the child upturned toward the sky; and again a sharp
+pang took her, a feeling that the little creature did not belong
+among those rough men and women. No wonder that the beautiful Italian
+eyes always sought the sky; it was their only refuge from sordid
+sights.
+
+"I suppose the woman meant that the child was her little mistress; did
+she not?" Blythe asked abruptly.
+
+"That was what I understood."
+
+"It's probably a romance; don't you think so?" and Blythe felt that
+she was applying to a high authority for information on such a head.
+
+"Looks like it," the great authority opined. "I think we shall have to
+investigate the case."
+
+"Oh, will you? And you speak Italian so beautifully!"
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Oh, I'm sure of it! It sounds so exactly like the hand-organ men!"
+
+"Look here, Miss Blythe," the poet protested, "you must not flatter a
+modest man like that. My daughter would say you were turning my
+head."
+
+"Oh, I rather think your daughter knows that it's not the kind of head
+to be turned," Blythe answered easily. She was beginning to feel as
+if she had known this famous personage all her life.
+
+"I shall tell her that," said he.
+
+Presently one-bell sounded a faint tinkle far below, and the big
+megaphone inquired whether they wanted to come down, and was assured
+that they did not. And all the while during their voyage through the
+air, which was prolonged for another half-hour, the two good comrades
+were weaving romances about the little girl; and with a curious
+confidence, as if, forsooth, they could conjure up what fortunes they
+would out of that vast horizon toward which the good ship was bearing
+them on.
+
+At last the time came for them to go below, and they reluctantly
+signalled to the sailors, grouped about the deck in patient
+expectation. Upon which the windlass was set going, and slowly and
+creakingly the "crow's nest" was lowered from its airy height.
+
+The two aëronauts found the steerage still populous with queer
+figures, and the atmosphere seemed more unsavoury than ever after
+their sojourn among the upper airs. To their disappointment, however,
+the woman and her Signorina were nowhere to be seen. Blythe and Mr.
+Grey looked for them in every corner of the deck, but no trace of them
+was to be found, and Blythe mounted the gangway to their own deck with
+much of the reluctance which she often felt in submitting to an
+interruption in a serial story.
+
+They found Mrs. Halliday amusing herself with a glass of cracked ice,
+giving casual attention the while to a very long story told by a
+garrulous fellow-passenger in a wadded hood.
+
+"Oh, Mamma," Blythe cried, perching upon the extension foot of her
+mother's chair, "why didn't you and Mr. DeWitt stay longer? And how
+did it happen that nobody else got wind of it? I don't believe a
+single person knows what we've been about! And oh! we have had such a
+glorious time! It was like being a bird! Only that little girl in the
+steerage oughtn't to be there, and Mr. Grey and I are going to see
+what can be done about it, and----"
+
+The wadded hood had fallen silent, and now its wearer rose, with an
+air of resignation, and carried her tale to another listener, while
+Mr. Grey also moved away, leaving Blythe to tell her own story.
+
+They were great friends, Mrs. Halliday and this only child of hers,
+and well they might be; for, as Blythe had informed Mr. Grey early in
+their acquaintance; "Mamma and I are all there are of us."
+
+As she sat beside this best of friends,--having dropped into the chair
+left vacant by the wadded hood,--Blythe lived over again every
+experience and sensation of that eventful afternoon, and with the
+delightful sense of sharing it with somebody who understood. And,
+since the most abiding impression of all had been her solicitude for
+the little steerage passenger, she found no difficulty in arousing her
+mother to an almost equal interest in the child's fate.
+
+And presently, when the cornet player passed them, with the air of
+short-lived importance which comes to a ship's cornet three times a
+day, and, stationing himself well aft, played the cheerful little tune
+which heralds the approaching dinner-hour, Blythe slipped her hand
+into her mother's and said:
+
+"We'll do something about that little girl; won't us, Mumsey?"
+
+Upon which Mrs. Halliday, rising, and patting the rosy cheek which she
+used to call the "apple of her eye," said:
+
+"I shouldn't wonder if us did, Blythe."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE LITTLE SIGNORINA
+
+
+Blythe lay awake a long time that night, thinking, not of the bridge
+nor of the "crow's nest," not of the Captain nor of the supposed Hugh
+Dalton, but of the child in the steerage. How stifling it must be down
+there to-night! It was hot and airless enough here, where Blythe had a
+stateroom to herself,--separated from her mother's by a narrow
+passageway, and where the port-holes had been open all day. Now, to be
+sure, they were closed; for the sea was rising, and already the spray
+dashed against the thick glass. Oh, how must it be in the steerage!
+And how did it happen that that nice woman had been obliged to take
+her little Signorina in such squalid fashion to _la bella Italia_?
+
+Blythe fell asleep with the sound of creaking timbers in her ears, as
+the good ship strained against the rising sea, and when the clear note
+of the cornet, playing the morning hymn, roused her from her dreams,
+the roaring of wind and waves sent her thoughts with a shock of pity
+to the little steerage passenger shut up below. For with such a sea as
+this the waves must be sweeping the lower deck, and there could be no
+release for the poor little prisoner.
+
+"Vhy you not report that veather from the lookout?" the Captain asked
+with mock severity as Blythe appeared at the breakfast table.
+
+The racks were on, and the knives and forks had begun their
+time-honoured minuet within their funny little fences. The amateur
+"lookout" glanced across the table at her friend and ally the poet,
+who nodded encouragingly as she answered:
+
+"Oh, we knew the Captain knew all about it!"
+
+"You think de Capitän know pretty much eferything, _wie es scheint_!"
+was the reply, uttered in so deep a guttural that Blythe knew the old
+Viking did not take very seriously the "bit of weather" that seemed to
+her so violent. In fact, he owned as much before he had finished his
+second cup of coffee.
+
+Yet when she came up the companionway after breakfast, she found a
+stout rope stretched across the deck from stanchion to stanchion to
+hold on by, the steamer chairs all tied fast to the rail that runs
+around the deckhouse, and every preparation made for rough weather.
+
+It was not what a sailor would have called a storm, but the sea was
+changed enough from the smiling calm of yesterday. Not many passengers
+were on deck, half a dozen, only, reclining in their chairs in the lee
+of the deckhouse, close reefed in their heavy wraps; while here and
+there a pair of indefatigable promenaders lurched and slid along the
+heaving deck arm in arm, or clung to any chance support in a desperate
+effort to keep their footing.
+
+Blythe had to buffet her way lustily as she turned a corner to
+windward. Holding her golf-cape close about her and jamming her felt
+hat well down on her head, she made her way to the narrow passageway
+forward of the wheel-house where one looks down into the steerage. The
+waves were dashing across the deck, which was deserted excepting for
+one or two dark-browed men crouched under shelter of the forecastle.
+
+There was a light, drizzling rain, and now and then the spray struck
+against her face. Blythe looked up at the "crow's nest," which was
+describing strange geometrical figures against the sky. The lookouts
+in their oil-coats did not seem in the least to mind their erratic
+passage through space. She wished it were eight-bells and time for
+them to change watch; it was always such fun to see them running up
+the ladder, hand over hand, their quick, monkey-like figures
+silhouetted against the sky.
+
+How nobly the great ship forged ahead against an angry sea, climbing
+now to the crest of a big wave, and giving a long, shuddering shake
+of determination before plunging down into a black, swirling hollow!
+And how the wind and the waters bellowed together!
+
+The Captain was on the bridge in his rubber coat and sou'-wester. He
+had said this would not last long, and he had stopped for a second cup
+of coffee before leaving the table. All the same, Blythe would not
+have ventured to accost him now, even if he had passed her way.
+
+Presently she returned under shelter of the awning and let Gustav tuck
+her up in her chair to dry off. And Mr. DeWitt came and sat down
+beside her and instructed her in the delectable game of "Buried
+Cities," in which she became speedily so proficient that, taking her
+cue from the lettering on one of the lifeboats, she discovered the
+city of Bremen lying "buried" in "the som_bre men_ace of the sea!"
+
+After a while, Gustav appeared before them, bearing a huge tray of
+_bouillon_ and sandwiches, with which he was striking the most
+eccentric angles; and Blythe discovered that she was preposterously
+hungry. And while her nose was still buried in her cup, she espied
+over its rim a pair of legs planted well apart, in the cause of
+equilibrium, and the big, pleasant voice of Mr. Grey made itself heard
+above wind and sea, saying, "Guess where I've been."
+
+"In the smoking-room," was the prompt reply.
+
+"Guess again."
+
+"On the bridge,--only you wouldn't dare!"
+
+"Once more."
+
+"Oh, I know," Blythe cried, setting her thick cup down on the deck,
+and tumbling off her chair in a snarl of steamer-rugs; "You've been
+down in the steerage finding out about the little Signorina!"
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"You did! You looked so pleased with yourself! Oh, do tell me all
+about her!"
+
+"Well, I've had a long talk with the woman. Shall we walk up and
+down?"
+
+And off they went, with that absence of ceremony which characterises
+life on shipboard, leaving Mr. DeWitt to bury his cities all unaided
+and unapplauded. Then, as the two walked up and down,--literally up
+and down, for the ship was pitching a bit, and sometimes they were
+labouring up-hill, and sometimes they were running down a steep
+incline,--as they walked up and down Mr. Grey told his story.
+
+The woman, Giuditta, had confided to him all she knew, and he had
+surmised more. Giuditta had known the family only since the time,
+three years ago, when she had been called in to take care of the
+little Cecilia during the illness of the Signora. The father had been
+a handsome good-for-nothing, who had got shot in a street row in
+that quarter of New York known as "Little Italy." He was
+nothing,--_niente_, _niente_;--but the Signora! Oh, if the gentleman
+could but have known the Signora, so beautiful, so patient, so sad!
+Giuditta had stayed with her and shared her fortunes, which were
+all, alas! misfortunes,--and had nursed her through a long
+decline. But never a word had she told of her own origin,--the
+beautiful Signora,--nor had her father's name ever passed her lips.
+Had she known that she was dying, perhaps then, for the child's
+sake, she might have forgotten her pride. But she was always
+thinking she should get well,--and then, one day, she died!
+
+There was very little left,--only a few dollars; but among the squalid
+properties of the pitiful little stage where the poor young thing had
+enacted the last act of her tragedy, was one picture, a _Madonna_,
+with the painter's name, G. Bellini, just decipherable. It was a
+little picture, twelve inches by sixteen, in a dingy old frame, and
+not a pretty picture at that. But a kind man, a dealer in antiquities,
+had given Giuditta one hundred dollars for it. "Think of that,
+Signore! One hundred dollars for an ugly little black picture no
+bigger than that!"
+
+"I suppose," Mr. Grey remarked, as they stood balancing themselves at
+an angle of many degrees,--"I suppose that the picture was
+genuine,--else the man would hardly have paid one hundred dollars for
+it."
+
+"And would it be worth more than that?"
+
+"A trifle," he replied, rather grimly. "Somewhere among the
+thousands."
+
+"But why should they have kept such a picture when they were so poor?
+Why didn't they sell it?"
+
+"That would hardly have occurred to them. It was evidently a family
+heirloom that the girl had taken with her because she loved it. I
+doubt if she guessed its value. A Bellini! A Giovanni Bellini, in a
+New York tenement house! Think of it! And now I suppose some
+millionaire has got it. Likely enough somebody who doesn't know enough
+to buy his own pictures! Horrible idea! Horrible!" and Mr. Grey strode
+along, all but snorting with rage at the thought.
+
+"But tell me more about the little girl," Blythe entreated, wishing
+the wind wouldn't blow her words out of her mouth so rudely. "Her name
+is Cecilia, you say?"
+
+"Yes; Cecilia. Dopo is the name they went by, but the nurse doesn't
+think it genuine. Her idea is that her Signora was the daughter of
+some great family, and got herself disowned by marrying an opera
+singer who subsequently made a fiasco and dropped his name with his
+fame. She doesn't think Dopo ever was a family name. It means 'after,'
+you know, and they may have adopted it for its ironical
+significance."
+
+"And the poor lady died and never told!" Blythe panted, as they toiled
+painfully up-hill with the rain beating in their faces.
+
+"Yes, and--look out! hold tight!" for suddenly the slant of the deck
+was reversed, and they came coasting down to an impromptu seat on a
+bench.
+
+"It seems," Mr. Grey went on, when they had resumed their somewhat
+arduous promenade,--"it seems the woman, Giuditta, is quite alone in
+the world and has been longing to get back to Italy. So she easily
+persuaded herself that she could find the child's family and establish
+her in high life. Giuditta has an uncommonly high idea of high life,"
+he added. "I think she imagines that somebody in a court train and a
+coronet will come to meet her Signorina at the pier in Genoa. Poor
+things! There'll be a rude awakening!"
+
+"But we won't let it be rude!" Blythe protested. "We must do something
+about it. Can't you think of anything to do?"
+
+They were standing now, clinging to the friendly rope stretched across
+the deck, shoulder high.
+
+"Giuditta's plan," Mr. Grey replied, "is the naïve one of appealing to
+the Queen about it. And, seriously, I think it may be worth while to
+ask the American Minister to make inquiries. For there is, of course,
+a bare chance that the family may be known at Court. In the
+meantime----"
+
+"In the meantime," Blythe interposed, "we've got to get her out of the
+steerage!"
+
+"But how?"
+
+"Oh, Mamma will arrange that. We'll just make a cabin passenger of
+her, and I can take her in with me in my stateroom. Oh! how happy she
+will be, lying in my steamer chair, with that dear Gustav to wait on
+her! I must go down at once and get Mamma to say yes!"
+
+"And you think she will?"
+
+"I know she will! She is always doing nice things. If you really knew
+her you wouldn't doubt it!" And with that the young optimist vanished
+in her accustomed whirl of golf-cape.
+
+If faith can move mountains, it is perhaps no wonder that the implicit
+and energetic faith of which Blythe Halliday was possessed proved
+equal to the removal of a small child from one quarter to another of
+the big ship. The three persons concerned in bringing about the change
+were easily won over; for Mrs. Halliday was quite of Blythe's mind in
+the matter, Mr. Grey had little difficulty in bringing the Captain to
+their point of view, while, as for Giuditta, she hailed the event as
+the first step in the transformation of her small Signorina into the
+little "great lady" she was born to be.
+
+Accordingly, close upon luncheon time, when the sun was just breaking
+through the clouds, and the sea, true to the Captain's prediction, was
+already beginning to subside, the tiny Signorina was carried, in the
+strong arms of Gustav, up the steep gangway by the wheel-house, where
+Blythe and her mother, Mr. DeWitt and the poet, to say nothing of
+Captain Seemann himself, formed an impromptu reception committee for
+her little ladyship.
+
+As the child was set on her feet at the head of the gangway, she
+turned to throw a kiss down upon her faithful Giuditta, and then,
+without the slightest hesitation, she placed her hand in Blythe's, and
+walked away with her.
+
+That evening there was a dance on board the _Lorelei_; for it had been
+but the fringe of a storm which they had crossed, and the sea was
+again taking on its long, easy swell.
+
+The deck presented a festal appearance for the occasion. Rows of
+Japanese lanterns were strung from side to side against the white
+background of awning and deckhouse, and the flags of many nations
+lent their gay colours to the pretty scene. The ship's orchestra was
+in its element, playing with a "go" and rhythm which seemed caught
+from the pulsing movement of the ship itself.
+
+As Blythe, with Mr. DeWitt, who had been a famous dancer in his day,
+led off the Virginia Reel, she wondered how it would strike the
+sailors of a passing brig,--this gay apparition of light and music,
+riding the great, dark, solemn sea.
+
+The dance itself was rather a staid, middle-aged affair, for Blythe
+was the only young girl on board, and none but the youngest or the
+surest-footed could put much spirit into a dance where the law of
+gravitation was apparently changing base from moment to moment. Blythe
+and her partner, however, took little account of the moving floor
+beneath their feet, or the hesitating demeanour of their companions.
+One after another, even the most reluctant and self-distrustful of the
+revellers found themselves caught up into active participation in the
+figure.
+
+In a quiet corner of the deck sat Mrs. Halliday, with little Cecilia
+beside her, snugly stowed away in a nest of steamer-rugs; for they
+could not bear to take her below, out of the fresh, invigorating air.
+Their little guest spoke hardly any English, but, although Mrs.
+Halliday was under the impression that she herself spoke Italian, the
+child seemed more conversable in Blythe's company than in that of any
+one else, not excepting Mr. Grey, about whose linguistic
+accomplishments there could be no question.
+
+Accordingly when, the Virginia Reel being finished, Blythe came and
+sat on the foot of the little girl's chair, they fell into an animated
+conversation, each in her own tongue. And presently, during a pause in
+the music, the Italian Count chanced to pass their way, and, stopping
+in his solitary promenade, appeared to give ear to their talk.
+
+Suddenly he stooped, and, looking into the animated face of the child,
+inquired in his own tongue; "What is thy name, little one?"
+
+But when the pure, liquid, childish voice answered "Cecilia Dopo," he
+merely lifted his hat and, bowing ceremoniously, passed on.
+
+Mr. Grey, who had watched the little scene from a distance, joined the
+group a moment later and, taking a vacant chair beside Mrs. Halliday,
+remarked:
+
+"I think we shall have to cultivate the old gentleman. He might be
+induced to lend a hand in behalf of this young person. They are both
+Florentines," he added, thoughtfully, "and Florentine society is not
+large."
+
+"Then you really believe the nurse is right about the child?" Mrs.
+Halliday asked.
+
+"Oh, I shouldn't dare say that the mother was a great lady," he
+returned; "but there is certainly something high-bred about the little
+thing."
+
+"They often have that air," Mrs. Halliday demurred,--"even the beggar
+children."
+
+"Yes; to our eyes. But, do you know, I rather think the Italians
+themselves can tell the difference. I would rather trust Giuditta's
+judgment than my own. Besides," he added, after a long pause, during
+which he had been watching the expressive face of the child.
+"Besides,--there's that Giovanni Bellini. That sort of thing doesn't
+often stray into low society."
+
+At this juncture the tall Italian moved again into their
+neighbourhood, and stood, at a point where the awning had been drawn
+back, gazing, with a preoccupied air, out to sea.
+
+Rising from his seat, Mr. Grey approached him, remarking abruptly, and
+with a jerk of the head toward Cecilia, "Florentine, is she not?"
+
+"_Sicuro_," was the grave reply; upon which the Count moved away, to
+be seen no more that evening.
+
+As the Englishman rejoined them after this laconic interview, Blythe
+greeted him with a new theory.
+
+"Do you know," she said, "I used to think the Count was haughty and
+disagreeable, but I have changed my mind."
+
+"That only shows how susceptible you good Republicans are to any sign
+of attention from the nobility," was the teasing reply.
+
+"Perhaps you are right," Blythe returned, with the fair-mindedness
+which distinguished her. "You know I never saw a titled person before,
+excepting one red-headed English Lord, who hadn't any manners. I've
+often thought I should like, of all things, to know a King or Queen
+really well!"
+
+"You don't say so!" Mr. Grey laughed. "And what's your opinion now, of
+the old gentleman, since he deigned to interrupt your conversation?"
+
+"I believe he is unhappy."
+
+"What makes you think so?"
+
+"There's an unhappy look away back in his eyes. I never looked in
+before,--and then----"
+
+"And then----?"
+
+"There's something about his voice."
+
+"Yes; Tuscan, you know."
+
+"Oh, is that it? Well, any way, I like him!"
+
+"If that's the case, perhaps you could make better headway with him
+than I."
+
+"But I don't speak Italian."
+
+"Perhaps you speak French."
+
+"I know my conjugations," was the modest admission.
+
+"And I'm sure he would be enchanted to hear them," Mr. Grey laughed,
+as the orchestra struck into the familiar music of the Lancers,
+causing him to beat a retreat into the smoking-room.
+
+And while Blythe danced gaily and heartily with a boy somewhat younger
+than herself, and not quite as tall, her little protégée fell into a
+deep sleep. And presently, the dance being over, the faithful Gustav
+carried her down to Blythe's stateroom, where she was snugly tucked
+away in the gently rocking cradle of the lower berth.
+
+As for Blythe, thus relegated to the upper berth, she entered promptly
+into an agreeable dreamland, where she found herself speaking Italian
+fluently, and where she discovered, to her extreme satisfaction, that
+the Queen of Italy was her bosom friend!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A NEW DAWN
+
+
+It was pretty to see the little Signorina revive under the favouring
+influences of prosperity; and indeed the soft airs of the southern
+seas were never sweeter nor more caressing than those which came to
+console our voyagers for their short-lived storm.
+
+Life was full of interest and excitement for the little girl. The
+heavy lassitude of her steerage days had fallen from her, and already
+that first morning a delicate glow of returning vigour touched the
+little cheek.
+
+"She's picking up, isn't she?" Mr. DeWitt remarked, as he joined
+Blythe and the child at the head of the steerage gangway, where the
+little one was throwing enthusiastic kisses and musical Italian
+phrases down upon the hardly less radiant Giuditta.
+
+"Oh, yes!" was the confident reply. "She's a different child since her
+saltwater bath and her big bowl of oatmeal. Mamma says she really has
+a splendid physique, only she was smothering down there in the
+steerage."
+
+Then Mr. DeWitt stooped and, lifting the child, set her on the
+railing, where she could get a better view of her faithful friend
+below.
+
+"There! How do you like that?" he inquired.
+
+Upon which the little girl, finding herself unexpectedly on a level
+with Blythe's face, put up her tiny hand and stroked her cheek.
+
+"Like-a Signorina," she remarked with apparent irrelevance.
+
+"Oh! You do, do you? Well, she's a nice girl."
+
+"Nice-a girl-a," the child repeated, adding a vowel, Italian fashion,
+to each word.
+
+Then, with an appreciative look into the pleasant, whiskered
+countenance, whose owner was holding her so securely on her
+precarious perch, she pressed her little hand gently against his
+waistcoat, and gravely remarked, "Nice-a girl-a, _anche il Signore_!"
+
+"So! I'm a nice girl too, am I?" the old gentleman replied, much
+elated with the compliment.
+
+And Giuditta, down below, perceiving that her Signorina was making new
+conquests, snatched her bright handkerchief from her head, and waved
+it gaily; whereupon a score of the steerage passengers, seized with
+her enthusiasm, waved their hats and handkerchiefs and shouted;
+"_Buon' viaggio, Signorina! Buon' viaggio_!"
+
+And the little recipient of this ovation became so excited that she
+almost jumped out of the detaining arms of Mr. DeWitt, who, being of a
+cautious disposition, made haste to set her down again; upon which
+they all walked aft, under the big awning.
+
+"She makes friends easily," Mr. Grey remarked, later in the morning,
+as he and Blythe paused a moment in their game of ring-toss. The
+child was standing, clinging to the hand of a tall woman in black, a
+grave, silent Southerner who had hitherto kept quite to herself.
+
+"Yes," Blythe rejoined, "but she is fastidious. She will listen to no
+blandishments from any one whom she doesn't take a fancy to. That
+good-natured, talkative Mr. Distel has been trying all day to get her
+to come to him, but she always gives him the slip." And Blythe, in her
+preoccupation, proceeded to throw two rings out of three wide of the
+mark.
+
+"Has the Count taken any more notice of her?" Mr. Grey inquired,
+deftly tossing the smallest of all the rings over the top of the
+post.
+
+"Apparently not; but she takes a great deal of notice of him. See,
+she's watching him now. I should not be a bit surprised if she were to
+speak to him of her own accord one of these days."
+
+"There are not many days left," her companion remarked. "The Captain
+says we shall make Cape St. Vincent before night."
+
+"Oh, how fast the voyage is going!" Blythe sighed.
+
+Yet, sorry as she would be to have the voyage over, no one was more
+enchanted than Blythe when Cape St. Vincent rose out of the sea,
+marking the end of the Atlantic passage. It was just at sundown, and
+the beautiful headland, bathed in a golden light, stood, like the
+mystic battlements of a veritable "Castle in Spain," against a
+luminous sky.
+
+"Mamma," Blythe asked, "did you ever see anything more beautiful than
+that?"
+
+They were standing at the port railing, with the little girl between
+them, watching the great cliffs across the deep blue sea.
+
+"Nothing more beautiful than that seen through your eyes, Blythe."
+
+"I believe you do see it through my eyes, Mumsey," Blythe answered,
+thoughtfully, "just as I am getting to see things through Cecilia's
+eyes. I never realised before how things open up when you look at them
+that way."
+
+And Mrs. Halliday smiled a quiet, inward smile that Blythe understood
+with a new understanding.
+
+They took little Cecilia ashore with them at Gibraltar the next
+morning, and again Blythe experienced the truth of her new theory.
+
+It was our heroine's first glimpse of Europe, and no delectable detail
+of their hour's drive, no exotic bloom, no strange Moorish costume, no
+enchanting vista of cliff or sea, was lost upon her. Yet she felt that
+even her enthusiasm paled before the deep, speechless ecstasy of the
+little Cecilia. It was as if, in the tropical glow and fragrant
+warmth, the child were breathing her native air,--as if she had come
+to her own.
+
+On their return, as the grimy old tug which had carried them across
+the harbour came alongside the big steamer, the child suddenly
+exclaimed, "_Ecco, il Signore!_" and, following the direction of her
+gesture, their eyes met those of the Count looking down upon them. He
+instantly moved away, and they had soon forgotten him, in the
+pleasurable excitement of bestowing upon Giuditta the huge, hat-shaped
+basket filled with fruit which they had brought for her.
+
+Later in the day, as they weighed anchor and sailed out from the
+shadow of the great Rock, Blythe found herself standing with Mr. Grey
+at the stern-rail of their own deck, watching the face of the mighty
+cliff as it changed with the varying perspective.
+
+"Oh! I wish I were a poet or an artist or something!" she cried.
+
+"Would you take that monstrous fortress for a subject?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, and I should do something so splendid with it that nobody would
+dare to be satirical!" and she glanced defiantly at her companion,
+whose good-humoured countenance was wrinkling with amusement.
+
+"Let us see," he said. "How would this do?" And he gravely repeated
+the following:
+
+                "There once was a fortress named Gib,
+                Whose manners were haughty and--
+
+What rhymes with Gib?"
+
+"Glib!" Blythe cried.
+
+"Good!
+
+                 Whose manners were haughty and glib.
+                           If you tried to get in,
+                           She replied with a grin,--
+
+Quick! Give me another rhyme for Gib."
+
+"Rib!" Blythe suggested, audaciously.
+
+"Excellent, excellent! Rib! Now, how does it go?
+
+                There once was a fortress named Gib,
+                Whose manners were haughty and glib!
+                          If you tried to get in,
+                          She replied, with a grin,
+                'I'm Great Britain's impregnable rib!'
+
+Rather neat! Don't you think?"
+
+"O Mr. Grey!" Blythe cried. "You've got to write that in my
+voyage-book! It's the----"
+
+At that moment, a gesture from her companion caused her to turn and
+look behind her. There, only a few feet from where they were standing,
+but with his back to them, was the Count, sitting on one of the long,
+stationary benches fastened against the hatchway, while just at his
+knees stood little Cecilia. She was balancing herself with some
+difficulty on the gently swaying deck, holding out for his acceptance
+a small bunch of violets, which one of the market-women at Gibraltar
+had bestowed upon her.
+
+As he appeared to hesitate: "_Prendili!_" she cried, with pretty
+wilfulness. Upon which he took the little offering, and lifted it to
+his face.
+
+The child stood her ground resolutely, and presently, "Put me up!" she
+commanded, still in her own sweet tongue.
+
+Obediently he lifted her, and placed her beside him on the seat, where
+she sat clinging with one little hand to the sleeve of his coat to
+keep from slipping down, with the gentle dip of the vessel.
+
+The two sat, for a few minutes, quite silent, gazing off toward the
+African coast, and Blythe and her companion drew nearer, filled with
+curiosity as to the outcome of the interview.
+
+Presently the child looked up into the Count's face and inquired, with
+the pretty Tuscan accent which sounded like an echo of his own
+question on the evening of the dance:
+
+"What is thy name?"
+
+"Giovanni Battista Allamiraviglia."
+
+Cecilia repeated after him the long, musical name, without missing a
+syllable, and with a certain approving inflection which evidently had
+an ingratiating effect upon the many-syllabled aristocrat; for he
+lifted his carefully gloved hand and passed it gently over the little
+head.
+
+The child took the caress very naturally, and when, presently, the
+hand returned to the knee, she got possession of it, and began
+crossing the kid fingers one over the other, quite undisturbed by the
+fact that they invariably fell apart again as soon as she loosed her
+hold.
+
+At this juncture the two eavesdroppers moved discreetly away, and
+Blythe, leaving her fellow-conspirator far behind, flew to her
+mother's side, crying:
+
+"O Mumsey! She's simply winding him round her finger, and there's
+nothing he won't be ready to do for us now!"
+
+"Yes, dear; I'm delighted to hear it," Mrs. Halliday replied, with
+what Blythe was wont to call her "benignant and amused" expression.
+"And after a while you will tell me what you are talking about!"
+
+But Blythe, nothing daunted, only appealed to Mr. Grey, who had just
+caught up with her.
+
+"You agree with me, Mr. Grey; don't you?" she insisted.
+
+"Perfectly, and in every particular. Mrs. Halliday, your daughter and
+I have been eavesdropping, and we have come to confess."
+
+Whereupon Blythe dropped upon the foot of her mother's chair, Mr. Grey
+established himself in the chair adjoining, and they gave their
+somewhat bewildered auditor the benefit of a few facts.
+
+"I really believe," the Englishman remarked, in conclusion,--"I really
+believe that haughty old dago can help us if anybody can. And when
+your engaging young protégée has completed her conquest,--to-morrow,
+it may be, or the day after, for she's making quick work of
+it,--we'll see what can be done with him."
+
+And, after all, what could have been more natural than the attraction
+which, from that time forth, manifested itself between the Count and
+his small countrywoman? If the little girl, in making her very marked
+advances, had been governed by the unwavering instinct which always
+guided her choice of companions, the old man, for his part, could not
+but find refreshment, after his long, solitary voyage, in the pretty
+Tuscan prattle of the child. Most Italians love children, and the
+Count Giovanni Battista Allamiraviglia appeared to be no exception to
+his race.
+
+The two would sit together by the hour, absorbed, neither in the
+lovely sights of this wonderful Mediterranean voyage, nor in the
+movements of those about them, but simply and solely in one another.
+
+"She's telling her own story better than we could do," Mr. Grey used
+to say.
+
+It was now no unusual thing to see the child established on the old
+gentleman's knee, and once Blythe found her fast asleep in his arms.
+But it was not until the very last day of the voyage that the most
+wonderful thing of all occurred.
+
+The sea was smooth as a lake, and all day they had been sailing the
+length of the Riviera. All day people had been giving names to the
+gleaming white points on the distant, dreamy shore,--Nice, Mentone,
+San Remo,--names fragrant with association even to the mind of the
+young traveller, who knew them only from books and letters.
+
+Blythe and the little girl were sitting, somewhat apart from the
+others, on the long bench by the hatchway where Cecilia had first laid
+siege to the Count's affections, and Blythe was allowing the child to
+look through the large end of her field-glass,--a source of endless
+entertainment to them both. Suddenly Cecilia gave a little shriek of
+delight at the way her good friend, Mr. Grey, dwindled into a pigmy;
+upon which the Count, attracted apparently by her voice, left his
+chair and came and sat down beside them.
+
+As he lifted his hat, with a polite "_Permetta, Signorina_," Blythe
+noticed, for the first time on the whole voyage, that he was without
+his gloves. Perhaps the general humanising of his attitude, through
+intercourse with the child, had caused him to relax this little point
+of punctilio.
+
+Cecilia, meanwhile, had promptly climbed upon his knee, and now,
+laying hold of one of the ungloved hands, she began twisting a large
+seal ring which presented itself to her mind as a pleasing novelty.
+Presently her attention seemed arrested by the device of the seal, and
+she murmured softly, "_Fideliter_."
+
+Blythe might not have distinguished the word as being Latin rather
+than Italian, had she not been struck by the change of countenance in
+the wearer of the ring. He turned to her abruptly, and asked, in
+French:
+
+"Does she read?"
+
+"No," Blythe answered, thankful that she was not obliged to muster her
+"conjugations" for the emergency!
+
+There was a swift interchange of question and answer between the old
+man and the child, of which Blythe understood but little. She heard
+Cecilia say "Mamma," in answer to an imperative question; the words
+"_orologio_" and "_perduto_" were intelligible to her. She was sure
+that the crest and motto formed the subject of discussion, and it was
+distinctly borne in upon her that the same device--a mailed hand and
+arm with the word _Fideliter_ beneath it--had been engraved on a lost
+watch which had belonged to the child's mother. But it was all surmise
+on her part, and she could hardly refrain from shouting aloud to Mr.
+Grey, standing over there, in dense unconsciousness, to come quickly
+and interpret this exasperating tongue, which sounded so pretty, and
+eluded her understanding so hopelessly.
+
+The mind of the Count seemed to be turning in the same direction, for,
+after a little, he arose abruptly, and, setting the child down beside
+Blythe, walked straight across the deck to the Englishman, whom he
+accosted so unceremoniously that Blythe's sense of wonders unfolding
+was but confirmed.
+
+The two men turned and walked away to a more secluded part of the
+deck, where they remained, deep in conversation, for what seemed to
+Blythe a long, long time. She felt as if she must not leave her seat,
+lest she miss the thread of the plot,--for a plot it surely was, with
+its unravelling close at hand.
+
+At last she saw the two men striding forward in the direction of the
+steerage, and with a conspicuous absence of that aimlessness which
+marks the usual promenade at sea.
+
+The little girl was again amusing herself with the glasses, and, as
+the two arbiters of her destiny passed her line of vision, she laughed
+aloud at their swiftly diminishing forms. Impelled by a curious
+feeling that the child must take some serious part in this crucial
+moment of her destiny, Blythe quietly took the glasses from her and
+said, as she had done each night when she put her little charge to
+bed:
+
+"Will you say a little prayer, Cecilia?"
+
+And the child, wondering, yet perfectly docile, pulled out the little
+mother-of-pearl rosary that she always wore under her dress, and
+reverently murmured one of the prayers her mother had taught her.
+After which, as if beguiled by the association of ideas into thinking
+it bedtime, she curled herself up on the bench, and, with her head in
+Blythe's lap, fell fast asleep.
+
+And Blythe sat, lost in thought, absently stroking the little head,
+until suddenly Mr. Grey appeared before her.
+
+"You have been outrageously treated, Miss Blythe," he declared,
+seating himself beside her, "but I had to let the old fellow have his
+head."
+
+"Oh, don't tell me anything, till we find Mamma," Blythe cried. "It's
+all her doing, you know,--letting me have Cecilia up here," and,
+gently rousing the sleeper, she said, "Come, Cecilia. We are going to
+find the Signora."
+
+"And you consider it absolutely certain?" Mrs. Halliday asked, when
+Mr. Grey had finished his tale. She was far more surprised than
+Blythe, for she had had a longer experience of life, to teach her a
+distrust in fairy-stories.
+
+"There does not seem a doubt. The child's familiarity with the crest
+was striking enough, but that Bellini _Madonna_ clinches it. And then,
+Giuditta's description of both father and mother seems to be
+unmistakable."
+
+"Oh! To think of his finding the child that he had never heard of,
+just as he had given up the search for her mother!" Blythe exclaimed.
+
+Cecilia was again playing happily with the glasses, paying no heed to
+her companions.
+
+"The strangest thing of all to me," Mrs. Halliday declared, "is his
+relenting toward his daughter after all these years."
+
+"You must not forget that Fate had been pounding him pretty hard," Mr.
+Grey interposed. "When a man loses in one year two of his children,
+and the only grandchild he knows anything about, it's not surprising
+that he should soften a bit toward the only child he has left."
+
+They were still discussing this wonderful subject, when, half an hour
+later, the tall figure of the Count emerged from the companionway. As
+he bent his steps toward the other side of the deck he was visible
+only to the child, who stood facing the rest of the group. She
+promptly dropped the glasses upon Blythe's knee, and crying, "_Il
+Signore!_" ran and took hold of his hand; whereupon the two walked
+away together and were not seen for a long, long time.
+
+Then Blythe and Mr. Grey went up on the bridge and told the Captain.
+No one else was to know--not even Mr. DeWitt--until after they had
+landed, but the Captain was certainly entitled to their confidence.
+
+"For," Blythe said, "you know, Captain Seemann, it never would have
+happened if you had not sent us up in the crow's nest that day."
+
+Upon which the Captain, beaming his brightest, and letting his cigar
+go out in the damp breeze for the sake of making his little speech,
+declared:
+
+"I know one thing! It would neffer haf happen at all, if I had sent
+anybody else up in the crow's nest but just Miss Blythe Halliday with
+her bright eyes and her kind heart!"
+
+And Blythe was so overpowered by this tremendous compliment from the
+Captain of the _Lorelei_ that she had not a word to say for herself.
+
+That evening Mr. Grey inscribed his nonsense-verse in Blythe's book;
+and not that only, for to those classic lines he added the following:
+
+"The above was composed in collaboration with his esteemed
+fellow-passenger, Miss Blythe Halliday, by Hugh Dalton, _alias_ 'Mr.
+Grey.'"
+
+It was, of course, a great distinction to own such an autograph as
+that; yet somehow the kind, witty Mr. Grey had been so delightful just
+as he was, that Blythe hardly felt as if the famous name added so very
+much to her satisfaction in his acquaintance.
+
+"I knew it all the time," she declared, quietly; "but it didn't make
+any difference."
+
+"That's worth hearing," said Hugh Dalton.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+They parted from the little Cecilia at sunrise, but with promises on
+both sides of a speedy meeting among the hills of Tuscany.
+
+The old Count, with the child's hand clasped in his, paused as he
+reached the gangway, at the foot of which the triumphant Giuditta was
+awaiting them, and pointed toward the rosy east which was flushing the
+beautiful bay a deep crimson.
+
+"Signorina," he said in his careful French, made more careful by his
+effort to control his voice,--"Signorina, it is to you that I owe a
+new dawn,--to you and to your honoured mother."
+
+Then, as Mr. DeWitt and Mr. Grey approached, to tell them that
+everything was in readiness for them to land, Blythe turned, with the
+light of the sunrise in her face, and said, under her breath, so that
+only her mother could hear:
+
+"O Mumsey! How beautiful the world is, with you and me right in the
+very middle of it!"
+
+
+
+
+ARTFUL MADGE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE PRIZE CONTEST
+
+
+"Artful Madge" was the very flippant name by which Madge Burtwell's
+brother Ned had persisted in calling her from the time when, at the
+age of sixteen, she gained reluctant permission to become a student at
+the Art School.
+
+"Not that we have any objection to art," Mrs. Burtwell was wont to
+explain in a deprecatory tone; "only we should have preferred to have
+Madge graduate first, before devoting herself to a mere
+accomplishment. It seems a little like putting the trimming on a dress
+before sewing the seams up," she would add; "I did it once when I was
+a girl, and the dress always had a queer look."
+
+But Mrs. Burtwell, though firm in her own opinions, was something of
+a philosopher in her attitude toward the contrary-minded, and even
+where her own children were concerned she never allowed her influence
+to degenerate into tyranny. When she found Madge, at the age of
+sixteen, more eager than ever before to study art, and nothing else,
+she told her husband that they might as well make up their minds to
+it, and, at the word, their minds were made up. For Mr. Burtwell was
+the one entirely and unreasoningly tractable member of Mrs. Burtwell's
+flock; in explanation of which fact he was careful to point out that
+only a mature mind could appreciate the true worth of Mrs. Burtwell's
+judgment.
+
+The Burtwells were people of small means and of correspondingly modest
+requirements. They lived in an unfashionable quarter of the city, kept
+a maid-of-all-work, sent their children to the public schools, and got
+their books from the Public Library. Having no expensive tastes, they
+regarded themselves as well-to-do and envied no one.
+
+If Madge Burtwell's eyes had been a whit less clear, or her nature a
+thought less guileless, Ned would not have been so enchanted with his
+new name for her. Indeed, a few years ago she had been described by an
+only half-appreciative friend as "a splendid girl without a mite of
+tact," and if she had succeeded in somewhat softening the asperity of
+her natural frankness, there was enough of it left to lend a delicate
+shade of humour to the name.
+
+Artful Madge, then, was a student at the Art School, and a very
+promising one at that. At the end of three years she had made such
+good progress that she was promoted to painting in the Portrait Class,
+and since her special friend and crony, Eleanor Merritt, was also a
+member of that class, Madge considered her cup of happiness full. Not
+that there were not visions in plenty of still better things to come,
+but they seemed so far in the future that they hardly took on any
+relation with the actual present. Madge and Eleanor dreamed of Europe,
+of the old masters and of the great Paris studios, but it is a
+question whether the fulfillment of any dream could have made them
+happier than they were to-day. Certain it is, that, as they stood side
+by side in the great barren studio, clad in their much-bedaubed,
+long-sleeved aprons, and working away at a portrait head, they had
+little thought for anything but the task in hand. The one vital matter
+for the moment was the mixing and applying of their colours, and, in
+their eagerness to reproduce the exact contour of a cheek, or the
+precise shadow of an unbeautiful nose, they would hardly have
+transferred their attention from the most ill-favoured model to the
+last and greatest Whistler masterpiece.
+
+The girls at the Art School had got hold of Ned's name for his sister
+and adopted it with enthusiasm.
+
+"If you want to know the truth, ask Artful Madge," was a very common
+saying among them.
+
+"Artful Madge says it's a good likeness, anyhow!" modest little Minnie
+Drayton would maintain, when hard pressed by the teasing of the older
+girls.
+
+The incongruity of the name seemed somehow to throw into brighter
+relief the peculiar sincerity of its bearer's character, and by the
+time it was generally adopted among the students Madge Burtwell's
+popularity was established.
+
+It was well that Madge was a favourite, for in certain respects she
+was the worst sinner in the class. To begin with, her palette was the
+very largest in the room, and the most plentifully besmeared with
+colours, and woe to the girl who ventured too near it! As Madge stood
+before her easel, tall and fair and earnest, painting with an ardour
+and concentration which was all too sure to beguile her into her
+besetting sin of "exaggerating details," she wielded both brush- and
+palette-arm with a genial disregard of consequences. Nor could one
+count upon her confining her activities to one location. Like all the
+students, she was in the habit of backing away from her natural
+anchorage from time to time, the better to judge of her work, and not
+one of them all had such a fatal tendency to come up against an
+unoffending easel in the rear, sending canvas and paint-tubes rattling
+upon the floor.
+
+Instantly she would drop upon her knees, overcome with contrition, and
+help collect the scattered treasures, giving many a jar or joggle to
+neighbouring easels in the process.
+
+"It's a shame, Miss Folsom!" she would cry, struggling to her feet
+again, still clutching her beloved palette, which seemed fairly to
+rain colours on every surrounding object. "It's a shame! But if you
+will just cast your eye upon that thing of mine, you will perceive
+that it was the recklessness of desperation. Look at it! There's not a
+value in it!"
+
+Artful Madge was always forgiven, and no one ever thought of calling
+her awkward, and when, in the early autumn, a Saturday sketching club
+was organised, it was christened "The Artful Daubers" in honor of
+Madge, and she was unanimously elected president.
+
+The girls were not in the habit of paying much attention to chance
+visitors who came in from time to time and made the perilous passage
+among the easels, and lucky was the "parent" or "art-patron" who
+escaped without a streak of colour on some portion of his raiment.
+When Mrs. Oliver Jacques looked in upon them one memorable morning in
+February no premonition of great things to come stirred the company;
+only indifferent glances were directed upon her by the few who deigned
+to observe her at all. And this pleased Mrs. Oliver Jacques very much
+indeed.
+
+Yet, if the girls had paused to consider,--a thing which they never
+did when there was a model on the platform,--they would have been
+aware that their visitor was a person of importance in the world of
+Art, for importance in no other world would have secured to her the
+personal escort of Mr. Salome, the adored teacher of their class. Yet
+Mrs. Jacques was a charming little old lady who would have commanded
+attention on her own merits in any less preoccupied assembly than
+that of the studio. Her exceedingly bright eyes and her exceedingly
+white hair seemed to accentuate her animation of manner; there was so
+much sparkle in her face that even her silence did not lack point.
+
+She had accomplished her tortuous passage among the easels without
+meeting with any mishaps in the shape of Cremnitz-white or
+crimson-lake. She had paused occasionally and had bestowed a critical
+nod upon the one "blocked-in" countenance, or had drawn her brows
+together questioningly over a study in which the nose had a
+startlingly finished appearance in a still sketchy environment, but
+not until she had successfully avoided the last easel, planted at an
+erratic angle just where the unwary would be sure to stub his toe, did
+she make any remark.
+
+"A lot of them, aren't there?" she observed.
+
+"Yes, the school is pretty full," Mr. Salome replied. "In fact, we're
+a little bothered for room."
+
+"Any imagination among them?"
+
+"Well, as to that, it's rather early to form an opinion. Our aim just
+now is to keep them to facts. Some of them," the artist added with a
+smile, "are rather too much inclined to draw upon their imagination.
+Now there is one girl there who is, humanly speaking, certain to paint
+the model's hair jet-black, or as black as paint can be made. And yet,
+you see, there is not a black thread in it."
+
+"I wonder whether you would object to my making an experiment?" Mrs.
+Jacques asked, abruptly.
+
+And from that seemingly unpremeditated question of Mrs. Jacques', and
+from the consultation that ensued, grew the Prize Contest, destined to
+be famous in the annals of the school.
+
+When, on that very afternoon, the students were assembled for the
+occasion, they had not yet had time to adjust their minds to the
+magnitude of the interests involved. Yet the conditions were simple
+enough. That student who should, in the space of two hours, produce
+the best composition illustrative of "Hope" was to receive a prize of
+five hundred dollars! The conviction prevailed among them that the
+vivacious little old lady with the white hair could be none other than
+the fairy godmother of nursery lore, and it was only too delightful to
+find that agile and beneficent myth interesting herself in the cause
+of Art.
+
+When once the class was fairly launched upon its new emprise, a change
+in the usual aspect of things became apparent. In the first place,
+most of the students were seated; for, in a task of pure composition,
+there was no occasion either for standing or for "prowling,"--the term
+familiarly applied to the sometimes disastrous backward and forward
+movements of which mention has been made, and which ordinarily gave so
+much action to the scene. Furthermore, the use of watercolor, as
+lending itself more readily than oils to rapid execution, deprived the
+scene of one of its most picturesque features,--namely, the
+brilliant-hued palette which, with its similarity to a shield, was
+wont to lend its bearer an Amazonian air, not lost upon the class
+caricaturists. Subdued, however, and almost "lady-like" as the
+appearance of the class had become, hardly half an hour had passed
+before the genial spirit of creation had so taken possession of the
+assembly as to cast a glow and glamour of its own upon it. Here and
+there, to be sure, might still be seen an anxious, intent young face
+with eyes fixed upon vacancy, or an idle, if somewhat begrimed and
+parti-coloured hand, fiercely clutching a dejected head; but nearly
+all were already busily at work, eagerly painting, or as eagerly
+obliterating strokes too hastily made. The subject, hackneyed as it
+certainly is, had pleased and stimulated the girls. There was a
+mingled vagueness and familiarity in its suggestion which puzzled them
+and spurred them on at the same time.
+
+Among the most impetuous workers, almost from the outset, was Artful
+Madge. She had instantly conceived of Hope as a vague, beckoning
+figure, which was to take its significance from the multitude and
+variety of its followers. She chose a large sheet of paper and
+quickly sketched in the upper left-hand corner a very indefinite hint
+of a winged, luminous something,--it might have been an angel or a
+bird or a cloud, seen from a great distance, against a somewhat
+threatening sky. Without defining the form at all she very cleverly
+produced an impression of receding motion;--she ventured even to hope
+that there was something alluring in the motion. That, however, must
+be made unmistakably clear through the pursuing figures with which she
+proposed to fill the foreground.
+
+She glanced at Eleanor, who had not yet mixed a colour.
+
+"What are you waiting for?" she asked.
+
+"I don't seem ready to begin," said Eleanor, in an absent tone of
+voice.
+
+"Have you got an idea?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Then do hurry up and go ahead, or you'll get left."
+
+Madge sat a moment, looking straight before her.
+
+"What are you going to put in there?" asked Eleanor.
+
+"What I want is all the people in the world," Madge replied, with
+perfect gravity. "But there is not room for them."
+
+A moment later she was working furiously, with hot cheeks and shining
+eyes and breath coming faster and faster.
+
+First she would have a soldier. Madge had always loved a soldier; her
+father had been one in the great and splendid days before she was
+born. Yes, a soldier must come first. And forthwith a very sketchy
+warrior stepped, with a very martial air, upon the paper. Then an
+artist ought to come next;--only she could not think of any way of
+indicating his calling without the aid of some conventional emblem. A
+mere look of inspiration might belong to a poet or a preacher as well
+as to an artist. Besides which, she was by no means sure that she knew
+how to paint a look of inspiration. And then it came to her that,
+unless she could paint just that, her picture must be a failure; and
+so she fell upon it, and began sketching in figures of old and young,
+rich and poor, trying only to put into each face the eager, upward
+look which should focus all, in spirit as well as in actual direction,
+upon the flying, luminous figure. In some attempts she succeeded and
+in some she failed. There was one old woman, with abnormally deep
+wrinkles, and shoulders somewhat out of drawing, whose face had caught
+a curiously inspired look; Madge did not dare touch her again for fear
+of losing it. Her artist, on the other hand, the young man with the
+ideal brow and very large eyes, grew more and more inane and
+expressionless the more eagerly his creator worked at him.
+
+On the whole, the production as a two-hour composition by a three-year
+student was rather good than bad. When time was called Madge felt
+pretty sure that she should not win the prize; she had undertaken too
+much, both for the occasion and for her own ability. And yet it was
+borne in upon her to-day that she was going to make a better artist
+than she had ever before dared hope.
+
+So absorbed had she been in her own work, that she had completely
+forgotten Eleanor, and had not even been aware that her friend had
+begun painting an hour ago. Now she turned to her with compunction in
+her heart. Eleanor held her finished sketch in her hand, but her eyes
+had wandered to the high, broad north window which was one great sheet
+of radiant blue sky.
+
+Eleanor's composition was very simple, but extremely well done, and in
+the glance Madge was able to give it before the sketches were handed
+in she saw that it was delicately suggestive. It represented a curving
+shore, a quiet sea, and a saffron sky,--no sails on the sea, no clouds
+in the sky. Upon the shore stood a solitary pine-tree, almost denuded
+of branches, and against the tree leaned the slender figure of a
+youth, looking dreamily across the sea to the horizon, where the
+saffron colour was tinged with gold. That was all, but Madge felt sure
+that it was enough; and, as she thought about it, she felt herself
+very small and crude and confused, and she was conscious of a
+perfectly calm and dispassionate wish to tear her own sketch in two.
+She did not do so, however. There was no irritation, nor envy, nor
+even displeasure, in her mind. She had not supposed that either she or
+Eleanor could do anything so good as that sketch,--since one of them
+could, why, that was just so much clear gain.
+
+A moment later the studio was in a tumult. The sketches had been
+handed over to the three judges, who had gone into instant
+consultation over them. Mrs. Jacques had decreed, with characteristic
+decision, that the judges were bound to be as prompt as the
+competitors, and the award was promised within half an hour. What
+wonder if the usual tumult of dispersion was increased tenfold by the
+excitement of the occasion? The voices were pitched in a higher key,
+the easels clattered more noisily than ever, there was a more lively
+movement among the many-hued aprons, as they were pulled off and
+consigned with many a shake and a flourish to their respective pegs.
+
+[Illustration: "Eleanor's eyes had wandered to the high, broad north
+window."]
+
+"What did you paint?" asked one high voice, whose owner was
+enthusiastically shaking the water from her paint-brush all over the
+floor.
+
+"I painted you--working for the prize."
+
+"Not really!"
+
+"Yes, really! You were just at the right angle for it, and you did
+look so hopeful!"
+
+"You can't make me believe you played such a shabby trick upon me,
+Mary Downing!"
+
+"Shabby! If you knew how good-looking you were at a three-eighths'
+angle you would be grateful to me! You did have such an inspired look
+for a little while,--before you got disgusted, and began to wash
+out."
+
+"Jane Rhoades did an awfully pretty thing--a white bird with a boy
+running after it. But I felt perfectly certain that the little wretch
+had a gun in his other hand!"
+
+"What a fiery head you gave your angel, Mattie Stiles! He looked like
+Loge in _Rheingold!_"
+
+"I don't care," said Mattie, in a tone of voice that showed that she
+did care very much indeed. "I do like red hair, and we haven't had a
+chance to paint any all winter."
+
+"Red hair wouldn't make Titians of us," sighed Miss Isabella Ricker,
+who was of a despondent temperament.
+
+"It wouldn't be any hindrance, anyhow!" Mattie insisted.
+
+Meanwhile the half-hour was drawing to a close. A general air of rough
+order had descended upon the studio. The girls were sitting or
+standing about in groups, their remarks getting more disjointed and
+irrelevant as the nervousness of anticipation grew upon them. Madge
+and Eleanor had found a seat on the steps of the platform. The former
+was making a pencil sketch of Miss Isabella Ricker, who had abandoned
+herself to dejection in a remote corner of the room. Madge looked up
+suddenly, and found that Eleanor was watching her work.
+
+"Your thing is very interesting," she remarked, in a reserved tone,
+which, nevertheless, sent the colour mounting slowly up her friend's
+sensitive cheek. They both understood that no more commendatory
+adjective than "interesting" was to be found in the art-student's
+vocabulary.
+
+"You're partial, Madge."
+
+"Not a bit of it. But I know an interesting thing when I see it. If
+you win the prize," she asked abruptly, "what shall you do with the
+money?"
+
+"If you go to the moon next week, what shall you do with the green
+cheese?" Eleanor retorted, with an unprecedented outburst of sarcasm.
+
+"I think you might answer my question," said Madge; and at that
+instant the door opened and a hush fell upon the room.
+
+The suspense was not painfully prolonged. The Curator of the Art
+Museum, who had been associated with Mrs. Jacques and Mr. Salome as
+judge, stepped upon the platform, from which Madge and Eleanor had
+precipitately retreated, and made the following announcement:
+
+"We have, on the whole," he said, "been very well pleased with the
+work we have had to consider. In fact, several of the sketches were
+better than anything we had looked for. Nevertheless our decision was
+not a difficult one, and our choice is unanimous. The prize which Mrs.
+Jacques has had the originality and the generosity to offer has been
+awarded to Mary Eleanor Merritt."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And now will you answer my question?"
+
+Madge and Eleanor were walking home together through the light snow
+which had just begun to fall. They had been curiously shy of speaking,
+and, before the silence was broken, a pretty wreath of snow had formed
+itself about the rim of each of their black felt hats, while little
+ribbons of it were decorating the folds of their garments.
+
+"What are you going to do with your green cheese?"
+
+"I shall go to Paris next autumn," said Eleanor, tightly clasping the
+check which she held inside her muff.
+
+"That's what I thought," said Madge; and if her eyes grew a trifle red
+and moist it was perhaps natural enough, since the snow was flying
+straight into them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE MINIATURE
+
+
+"What makes you keep looking at me, Eleanor Merritt? You're not a bit
+of a good model!"
+
+Thus reproved, Eleanor once more fixed her eyes upon a very bad
+oil-portrait of Great-grandfather Burtwell, an elderly man of a wooden
+countenance, in stock and choker, surmounting an expanse of black
+broadcloth which occupied two-thirds of the canvas.
+
+The girls were established in what was known as the spare-room of the
+Burtwell house, which, with its north light and usual freedom from
+visitors made a very good studio. Madge was painting a miniature of
+Eleanor. The diminutive size of her undertaking was causing her a good
+deal of embarrassment, and she was consequently inclined to be rather
+severe with her sitter.
+
+"You know I am not going to have many more chances of looking at you
+for a year to come," Eleanor urged, in a tone of meek dejection.
+
+"And I can't see you, even now," Madge persisted, "if you don't turn
+more toward the light."
+
+There was silence again for some minutes, while Madge painted steadily
+on. Difficult as was this new task which she had set herself, she was
+captivated with it. However the miniature might turn out as a
+likeness, she felt sure that each stroke of her brush was making a
+prettier picture of it. The eyes already had the real Eleanor look,
+and the hair was "pretty nice." The mouth was troublesome, to be sure,
+and to-day she did not feel inspired to improve it, and had turned her
+attention to less important details.
+
+"You've got such a pretty ear!" she remarked presently, as she touched
+its outermost rim with a hair line, cocking her head to one side, the
+while, in a very professional manner; "Did you ever notice what a
+pretty ear you have?"
+
+"Better be careful how you talk about it," Eleanor laughed, "for fear
+it should begin to burn!"
+
+The artist looked in some trepidation at the feature in question, but
+its soft hue did not deepen. She took the precaution, however, to
+change the subject; to one which she often chose, indeed, for the sake
+of the animation it brought into the pretty face of her model.
+Eleanor's "repose" sometimes bothered her.
+
+"What shall you do the first day in Paris?" Madge asked.
+
+"I shall write to you."
+
+"Good gracious! You won't write to me before you have seen the
+Louvre!"
+
+"I shall write to you the very first minute. And then I shall write
+again that same evening, and tell you whether there really is a
+Louvre! If there shouldn't be one, you know, I shouldn't feel so like
+a pig in being there without you!"
+
+"You needn't feel like a pig, as far as that goes," said Madge. "I
+couldn't have gone to Paris if I had won the prize."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, I had it out with Father this morning. He says it's not a mere
+matter of money; that if he and Mother thought well of my going, they
+could manage it."
+
+"O Madge! Can't you make them think well of it?"
+
+"I'm afraid not. Father never did really believe in my going in for
+art, and I think he believes in it less now than he ever did. He says
+I've been at it for three years, and I haven't painted a pretty
+picture yet. And he says he doesn't see what good it's going to do me
+in after-life; that if I marry I sha'n't keep it up, and there
+wouldn't be any good in my trying to;--which is, of course a mistake,
+only I can't make him believe that it is,--and he says that if I don't
+marry, I've got to earn my living sooner or later."
+
+"Why, but that's just it, Madge! You're going to be able to earn your
+living! You're sure to!"
+
+But Madge was again engrossed in her work. The afternoon would soon
+draw to a close, and if she wished to carry out her designs upon that
+ear it behooved her to stop talking. Though her little picture was an
+oval of three inches by four, it had cost her more strokes than any
+canvas of ten times the size had ever done. And Eleanor was to sail in
+a fortnight!
+
+At last the light began to fade, and Madge knew that she must stop.
+
+"What do you suppose Father said to me this morning?" she asked, as
+she washed out her brushes and put her paint-box in order.
+
+"I can't imagine."
+
+"Well, he said that when any good judge thought my pictures worth
+paying for in good hard cash, it would be time to think of sending me
+'traipsing over the world with my paint-pot.' He said that if I would
+come to him with a fifty-dollar bill of my own earning he should begin
+to think there was some sense in my art-talk."
+
+"Did he really say that? Why, Madge, who knows?"
+
+Madge had shut up her paint-box and moved to the window, where she was
+gloomily looking down into her neighbours' backyards.
+
+"If you mean Noah's Dove," she said, "You might as well give him up.
+He's come back for the thirteenth time."
+
+Now "Noah's Dove" was the name which Madge had bestowed upon a small
+bundle of pen-and-ink sketches which she had been sending about to the
+illustrated papers for two or three months past, and which had earned
+their name by the persistency with which they had found their way back
+again. The girls had both thought them funny and original; indeed
+Eleanor, with the partiality of one's best friend, did not hesitate to
+pronounce them better than many of the things that got accepted. Up to
+this time, however, no editor had seemed disposed to recognise their
+merits, and they had been repeatedly and ignominiously rejected.
+
+"But you'll keep on sending them, won't you, Madge?" Eleanor
+insisted.
+
+"Of course I shall, as long as there is a picture-paper left in the
+country; though the postage does cost an awful lot!"
+
+The sun had set, and a tinge of rosy colour was spreading across the
+northern sky behind the chimneys. The girls stood silent for a moment,
+watching the colour deepen, while a wistful look came into Eleanor's
+face.
+
+"After all, Madge," she said; "it must be nice to have somebody think
+for you, even when he doesn't think the way you want him to."
+
+"Oh, of course, Father's a dear. I don't suppose I would swap him off,
+even for Paris!"
+
+"I wish I could even remember my father or my mother, or anybody that
+really belonged to me!" Eleanor said; then, feeling that she was
+making an appeal for sympathy, a thing which she was principled
+against doing, she turned her eyes away from the tender, beguiling
+colour behind the chimneys, and looked, instead, at the big oil
+portrait on the wall. "It's something to have even a painted
+grandfather of your own!" she declared.
+
+"How I should love to give you mine!" laughed Madge. "He's such a
+horrible daub, and I should so like to have the frame when it comes
+time to exhibit! You would not insist upon having him in a frame,
+would you, Nell?"
+
+Presently the girls went down-stairs together and Eleanor stayed to
+tea, and told the family all about her Paris plans, and how she felt
+like a pig to be going without Madge. And all the time, as she talked
+to these kindly, sympathetic people, it seemed to her that Madge was
+even more to be envied than she; and she wished she knew how to say so
+in an acceptable manner. But Eleanor found as much difficulty as most
+of us do, in expressing our best and truest thoughts, and so the
+Burtwell family never knew what a heart-warming impression they had
+made upon their guest.
+
+Eleanor had lived for the past three years with a married cousin, a
+daughter of the not particularly congenial or affectionate Aunt Sarah,
+now deceased, who had brought her up from babyhood. The gentle,
+sensitive girl, with the artistic temperament, had never been happy
+with her cousin, though the latter was far from suspecting the fact.
+Mrs. Hamilton Hicks was fond of Eleanor, or imagined herself to be so,
+and she always gave her young cousin her due share of credit, in view
+of the fact that they had "never had any words together."
+Nevertheless, she had acceded very readily to the Paris plan, and had
+herself taken pains to find a suitable chaperon for the young
+traveller.
+
+The result was, that on the fifteenth of September Eleanor went forth
+into the great world in company with a lively and voluble Frenchwoman,
+a lady whom she had seen but twice before in her life, who had
+promised to establish her in a good private family in Paris. And since
+Mrs. Hamilton Hicks had negotiated the arrangement, its success was a
+foregone conclusion.
+
+When Madge left the railway station after bidding Eleanor good-bye,
+and stepped out into the crowded city thoroughfare, the world seemed
+to her very empty and desolate, in spite of the multitude of her
+fellow-creatures who jostled against her. She could think of nothing
+but Eleanor, standing on the platform of the car as the train moved
+out of the station, and she was desperately sorry to have lost the
+last sight of her friend's tearful face, because of a curious blur
+that had come over her own eyes at the moment. At the recollection,
+she mechanically put her hand into her pocket in search of the
+miniature which she usually carried about with her. She had left it at
+home lest she should lose it in the crowded railway station. It gave
+her a pang not to find it, and she made up her mind then and there
+that she would never go without it again.
+
+The moment she reached her own room she seized the picture and had a
+good look at it. She had placed it in the inner gilt rim of an old
+daguerreotype, which set it off very nicely. She had discarded the
+hard leather daguerreotype case, as being too clumsy to carry about in
+her pocket, and in its place had made a sort of pocket-book of red
+morocco which was a sufficient protection for the glass, in her
+careful keeping.
+
+She had never liked the picture so well as she did to-day, for she
+thought of it now for the first time, not as a work of art, but as a
+likeness, and imperfect as it was, even from that point of view, it
+gave her very great pleasure to look at it. Yes, decidedly, she must
+always have it by her hereafter; and she slipped it into her pocket
+while she made herself ready for tea.
+
+But supposing she should have her pocket picked! A pickpocket, she
+reflected, might, in the hastiness which must always characterise his
+operations, mistake the little leather case for a purse, and then--how
+should she ever get the precious miniature back again? "Not that he
+would want to keep it," she said to herself, as she took it out once
+more for a parting look,--"unless he should lose his heart to that
+ear!"--and she regarded the tiny pink object with pardonable pride.
+But with the best intentions in the world, how would he be able to
+restore it? She must put her address in the case; that would be a
+simple matter.
+
+An hour later, the family were gathered about the great round table in
+the pleasant sitting-room, pursuing their various avocations by the
+light of an excellent argand burner. Mr. Burtwell was reading his
+evening paper, imparting occasional choice bits to his wife and his
+eldest daughter, Julia, who were dealing with a heap of mending. The
+two younger children were playing lotto, while Ned was having a
+hand-to-hand tussle with his Cicero, a foeman likely to prove worthy
+of his steel.
+
+Madge had taken out a sheet of paper, with a view to inscribing her
+address upon it. The mere act of doing so had called up to her mind so
+vivid an impression of the thief for whose information it was
+destined, that she suddenly felt impelled to address to him a few
+words of admonition. With an agreeable sense of the absurdity of her
+performance, she began a letter to this figment of her imagination,
+and this is what she wrote:
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+"DEAR PICKPOCKET,
+
+"For, as I shall never leave this miniature about anywhere, you must
+be a pickpocket if it falls into your hands. To begin with, then; it
+is not a good miniature at all, and there is no use in your trying to
+sell it. In fact, it is a very bad miniature, as you will see if you
+know anything about such things, which you probably don't. But it is
+very valuable to me, and so I hope you will return it to me as soon as
+you find out how bad it is. You probably won't want to bring it
+yourself,--I'm sure I should not think you would!--but you can
+perfectly well send it by express, and you can let them collect
+charges on delivery, unless you think that, under the circumstances,
+you ought to prepay them. My address is,
+
+                                         Miss Margaret Burtwell," etc.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Madge read over her production with an amusement and satisfaction
+which quite filled, for the moment, the aching void of which she had
+been so painfully conscious. The letter occupied but one-half the
+sheet, and, as the young artist's eye fell upon the blank third page,
+she was seized with an irresistible impulse to draw a picture on it.
+
+The figure of the pickpocket was by this time so vivid to her mind,
+that she began making a pen-and-ink sketch of him, as a dark-browed
+villain in the act of rifling the pocket of a very haughty young woman
+proceeding along the street with an air of extreme self-consciousness.
+The drawing was on a very small scale, and when it was finished to her
+satisfaction there was still half the page unoccupied. Madge hastily
+wrote under the sketch the words: "The Crime," and a moment later she
+was engrossed in the execution of a still more dramatic design,
+representing the criminal in the hands of two stalwart policemen,
+being ignominiously dragged through the street toward a sort of
+mediæval fortress, with walls some twenty feet thick, upon which was
+inscribed in enormous characters, "JAIL." Still more action was given
+the drawing by the introduction of two or three small and gleeful
+ragamuffins, dancing a derisive war-dance behind the captive, and of
+two dogs of doubtful lineage, barking like mad on the outskirts of the
+group. Under this picture was inscribed, "The Consequences of Crime,"
+and at the bottom of the page appeared the words, "Behold and
+tremble!"
+
+"What's Artful Madge up to?" asked Ned, as he closed his Latin
+Dictionary with a bang.
+
+"Writing a letter," Madge replied, composedly.
+
+"To the Prize Pig?"
+
+"The what?"
+
+"The Prize Pig! You know Eleanor said she felt like a pig to be going
+to Paris without you, and as she got the prize----"
+
+"You impudent boy!"
+
+"Not in the least. I'm only witty."
+
+"Witty!"
+
+"Yes,--I've heard wit defined as the unexpected."
+
+"The dictionary doesn't define it so, and good manners don't define
+impudence as wit."
+
+"We're not discussing impudence, we're discussing wit. And I know
+positively that wit is defined as the unexpected."
+
+"Let's have your authority," said Mr. Burtwell, who had not heard the
+first part of the discussion.
+
+"Let us see what the dictionary says," suggested Julia, who was the
+scholar of the family.
+
+"Very well; and what will you bet that I'm not right?"
+
+"We don't bet in this family," said Mr. Burtwell, with decision.
+
+"Oh, well, that's only a form of speech. What will you do for me,
+Madge, if I'm right?"
+
+"I'll put you into an allegorical sketch."
+
+"Good! I always wondered that you didn't make use of such good
+material in the artful line!"
+
+The wire dictionary-stand, containing the portly form of Webster
+Unabridged, was instantly brought up to the light, and there was half
+a minute's silence while Ned turned the leaves.
+
+"Score me one!" he shouted, in high glee. "Listen to Webster! 'Wit. 3.
+Felicitous association of objects not usually connected, so as to
+produce a pleasant surprise.' Quite at your service, my artful
+relative, whenever you would like a sitting!"
+
+"I protest! You haven't won!"
+
+"Haven't won, indeed! I leave it to the gentlemen of the jury. Is not
+the name of Prize Pig for Miss Eleanor Merritt a 'felicitous
+association of objects not usually connected'?"
+
+"No! The association is infelicitous, and consequently it does not
+produce a 'pleasant surprise.'"
+
+The family listened with the amused tolerance with which they usually
+left such discussions to the two chief wranglers.
+
+"I maintain," insisted Ned, "that the association of objects is
+felicitous, and must be, because it was instituted by Miss Eleanor
+Merritt herself. She won the prize, and she said she was a pig."
+
+"But it doesn't produce a pleasant surprise," Madge objected.
+
+"I beg your pardon! It _has_ produced a pleasant surprise, as I can
+testify, for I have experienced it myself. What is your verdict,
+Mother?"
+
+"My verdict is, that it's a pity, as I always thought it was, that you
+are not to be a lawyer, and that Madge can't do better than practise
+her drawing by making the allegorical sketch."
+
+That Mrs. Burtwell should be on Ned's side was a foregone conclusion,
+and Madge appealed to her father.
+
+"Father, is calling Eleanor Merritt a prize pig a form of wit?"
+
+"Pretty poor wit I should call it!"
+
+"Father is on my side!" shouted Ned. "He says it's poor wit, which is
+only one way of saying that it is wit!"
+
+"Can wit be poor?" asked Julia.
+
+"Father says it can."
+
+"Then it isn't wit!" Madge protested.
+
+"I should like to know why not. Old Mr. Tanner is a poor man, but he's
+a man for all that, and votes at elections for the highest bidder.
+And your logic's poor, but I suppose you'd call it logic!"
+
+"I have an idea!" cried Madge. "I'm going to make my fortune out of
+you! I'm going to make a pair of excruciatingly funny pictures of you!
+The first shall be called _The Student and Logic_, and the second
+shall be called _Logic and the Student!_ In the first the student
+shall be patting Logic on the head, and in the second,--oh, it's an
+inspiration!"
+
+And forthwith Madge seized a large sheet of paper and began work.
+
+"I'm not sure that this won't be the beginning of a series," she
+declared. "When it's finished I shall send it to a funny paper and get
+fifty dollars for it,--and when I have got fifty dollars for it,
+Father will send me to Paris; won't you, Daddy, dear?"
+
+"What's that? What's that?" asked Mr. Burtwell.
+
+"When I get fifty dollars,--_or more!_--for my Student, you will send
+me to Europe!"
+
+"Oh, yes! And when you're Queen of England I shall be presented at
+Court! Listen to what the paper says: 'The Honourable Jacob Luddington
+and family have just returned from an extensive foreign tour. The two
+Miss Luddingtons were presented at the Court of St. James, where their
+exceptional beauty and elegance are said to have made a marked
+impression.' Good for the Honourable Jacob! His father was my father's
+chore-man, and here are his daughters hobnobbing with crowned heads!"
+
+From which digression it is fair to conclude that Mr. Burtwell did not
+attach any great importance to his daughter's question or to his own
+answer. But Madge put away the promise in the safest recesses of her
+memory as carefully as she had tucked the letter to her "dear
+pickpocket" inside the red morocco pocket-book. It seemed as if the
+one were likely to be called for about as soon as the other,--"which
+means never at all!" she said to herself, with a profound sigh.
+
+"The throes of creation have begun," Ned chuckled; and then, as he
+watched his sister's business-like proceedings, marvelling the while
+at what he secretly considered her quite phenomenal skill, he let
+himself be sufficiently carried away by enthusiasm to remark, "I say,
+Madge, you're no fool at that sort of thing, if you _are_ a girl!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+NOAH'S DOVE
+
+
+"I really think, Miss Burtwell, you might be a little more careful,"
+Miss Isabella Ricker wailed, in a tone of hopeless remonstrance. It
+was the third time that morning that Madge had knocked against her
+easel, and human nature could bear no more.
+
+"I think so too," said Madge, in a voice as dejected as her victim's
+own. "If I only knew how to prowl more intelligently, I would, I truly
+would."
+
+"Tie yourself to your own easel," suggested Delia Smith; "then that
+will have to go first."
+
+"You're a good one to talk!" cried Mary Downing. "You've upset my
+things twice this very morning!"
+
+"Put those two behind each other," Josephine Wilkes suggested. "It
+will be a lesson to them."
+
+"And who's going to sit behind the rear one?" somebody asked.
+
+"Harriet Wells," Delia Smith proposed. "Mr. Salome said 'very good' to
+her this morning; she must be proof against adversity."
+
+"No one is proof against adversity," Madge declared, in a tragic tone;
+but her remark passed unheeded. The girls were already at work again,
+and nothing short of another wreck was likely to distract their
+attention. The scrape of a palette-knife, the tread of a prowler, or
+the shoving of a chair to one side, were the only sounds audible in
+the room, excepting when the occasional roar of an electric car or the
+rattle of a passing waggon came in at the open window. It was the
+first warm day in April.
+
+Artful Madge's sententious observation with regard to adversity was
+the fruit of bitter experience. Misfortune's arrows had been raining
+thick and fast about her, and although she was holding her ground
+against them very well, she felt that adversity was a subject on which
+she was fitted to speak with authority.
+
+In the first place, her Student series was proving to be quite as much
+of a Noah's Dove as the first set of sketches which had so signally
+failed to find a permanent roosting-place in an inhospitable world.
+Only yesterday the familiar parcel had made its appearance on the
+front-entry table, that table which, for a year past, she had never
+come in sight of without a quicker beating of the heart. If she ever
+did have a bit of success, she often reflected, that piece of
+ancestral mahogany was likely to be the first to know of it. How often
+she had dreamed of the small business envelope, addressed in an
+unfamiliar hand, which might one day appear there! It would be half a
+second before she should take in the meaning of it. Then would come a
+premonitory thrill, instantly justified by a glance at the upper
+left-hand corner of the envelope, where the name of some great
+periodical would seem literally blazoned forth, however small the
+type in which it was printed. And then,--oh, then! the tearing open of
+the envelope, the unfolding of the sheet with trembling fingers, the
+check! Would it be for $10 or $15 or even $25, and might there be a
+word of editorial praise or admonition? Foolish, foolish dreams! And
+there was that hideous parcel, which she was getting to hate the very
+sight of! As she squeezed a long rope of burnt-sienna upon her
+palette, she made up her mind that she would wait a week before
+exposing herself to another disappointment. Perhaps the Student would
+improve with keeping, like violins and old masters. Certainly if he
+was anything like his prototype he needed maturing.
+
+Meanwhile the model's mouth was proving as troublesome to paint as
+Eleanor's had been, and as Madge grew more and more perplexed with the
+problem of it she thought of the miniature with a fresh pang. For she
+had lost it! Three days ago it had somehow slipped from her
+possession. Had she left it lying on the table in the Public Library?
+Nobody there had seen anything of it. But on the very day of her loss
+she had been at the Library, examining the current numbers of all the
+illustrated papers, in the hope of gleaning some hint as to editorial
+tastes. She remembered reading Eleanor's last letter there, the letter
+in which her friend had written that she was to have two years more of
+Paris. She had read the letter through twice, and then she had taken
+out the miniature and had a good look at it. To think of Eleanor,
+having two more years of Paris! And it had all come about so simply!
+She had merely persuaded her cousin, Mr. Hicks, to advance a few
+hundred dollars till she should be of age and at liberty to sell a
+bond.
+
+"There isn't anybody that believes in me," Madge had told herself; and
+then she had thought of something that Mr. Salome had said to her a
+few days ago, something that she would have considered it very
+unbecoming to repeat, even to Eleanor, but the memory of which, thus
+suddenly recalled, had filled her with such hopefulness that she had
+sped homeward to the mahogany table almost with a conviction of
+success. Was it in that sudden rush of hopefulness, so mistaken, alas,
+so groundless, that she had left the little morocco case lying about?
+Or had she pulled it out of her pocket with her handkerchief? Or had
+she really had her pocket picked?
+
+What wonder that in the stress of anxious speculation she was making
+bad work of her painting! This would never do! She took a long stride
+backwards, and over went Miss Ricker's long-suffering easel, prone
+upon the floor, carrying with it a neighbouring structure of similar
+unsteadiness, which was, however, happily empty, save for a couple of
+jam-pots filled with turpentine and oil! These plunged with headlong
+impetuosity into space, forming little rivers of stickiness, as they
+rolled half-way across the room. Everybody rushed to the rescue, while
+Miss Ricker gazed upon the catastrophe with stony displeasure.
+
+By a miracle, the canvas, though "butter-side-down," had escaped
+unscathed. Not until she was assured of this did the culprit speak.
+
+"I'm a disgrace to the class," she said, "and expulsion is the only
+remedy. Tell Mr. Salome that I have forfeited every right to
+membership, and it's quite possible that I may never exaggerate
+another detail as long as I live."
+
+"Time's up in two minutes," Mary Downing remarked, in her
+matter-of-fact voice, as she dabbed some yellow-ochre upon her
+subject's chin. "I rather think you'll come back to-morrow."
+
+"But I do think it's somebody's else turn to work behind her," said
+Josephine Wilkes.
+
+Miss Ricker gave a faint, assenting smile.
+
+"I think Miss Ricker is very much indebted to Artful Madge," Harriet
+Wells declared. "There isn't another girl in the class who could have
+knocked that easel over without damaging the picture."
+
+"Practice makes perfect," some one observed; and then, time being
+called, everybody began talking at once, and wit and wisdom were
+alike lost upon the company.
+
+But Artful Madge was not to be lightly consoled.
+
+"Mother," she said, that same afternoon, as she came into the little
+sitting-room over the front entry, where her mother was stitching on
+the sewing-machine, "I think I should like to do something useful. I'm
+kind of tired of art."
+
+Madge had been helping wash the luncheon dishes, and was beginning to
+wonder whether her talents were not, perhaps, of a purely domestic
+order.
+
+"I should think you _would_ be tired of it!" said Mrs. Burtwell, in
+perfect good faith, as she snipped the thread at the end of a seam.
+"How you can make up your mind to spend all your days bedaubing your
+clothes with those nasty paints passes my comprehension."
+
+"But sometimes I daub the canvas," Madge protested, with unwonted
+meekness, as she drew a grey woollen sock over her hand, and pounced
+upon a small hole in the toe; and at that very instant, which Madge
+was whimsically regarding as a possible turning-point in her career,
+the doorbell rang.
+
+"A gintleman to see you, Miss," said Nora, a moment later, handing
+Madge a card.
+
+"To see me?" asked Madge, incredulously, as she read the name, "Mr.
+Philip Spriggs! Are you sure he didn't ask for Father?"
+
+But Nora was quite clear that she had not made a mistake.
+
+"Who is it, Madge?" Mrs. Burtwell queried.
+
+"It's probably a book agent," said Madge, as she went down-stairs to
+the parlour, rather begrudging the interruption to her darning bout.
+
+Standing by the window, hat in hand, was an elderly man of a somewhat
+severe cast of countenance, as unsuggestive as possible, in his
+general appearance, of the comparatively frivolous name which a
+satirical fate had bestowed upon him.
+
+As Madge entered the room he observed, without advancing a step toward
+her: "You are Miss Burtwell, I suppose. I came to answer your letter
+in person."
+
+"My letter?" asked Madge, with a confused impression that something
+remarkable was going forward.
+
+"Yes; this one,"--and he drew from his pocket the red morocco
+miniature case.
+
+"Oh!" cried Madge, "how glad I am to have it!--and how kind you are to
+bring it!--and, oh! that dreadful letter!"
+
+The three aspects of the case had chased each other in rapid
+succession through her mind, and each had got its-self expressed in
+turn.
+
+Mr. Spriggs did not relax a muscle of his face.
+
+"I found this on a table in the Public Library," he stated. "Your
+directions were so explicit that I could do no less than be guided by
+them."
+
+There was something so solemn, almost judicial, about her guest that
+Madge became quite awestruck.
+
+"Won't you please take a seat?" she begged, humbly. "I think I could
+apologise better if you were to sit down."
+
+"Then you consider that there is occasion to apologise?" he asked,
+taking the proffered chair, and resting his hat upon the floor.
+
+"Indeed, yes!" said Madge. "It's perfectly dreadful to think of the
+letter having fallen into the hands of any one so--" and she broke
+short off.
+
+"So what?" asked Mr. Spriggs.
+
+"Why, so dignified and so--very different from--" but again she found
+herself unable to finish her sentence.
+
+"From a 'dear pickpocket?'" he suggested.
+
+"Did I say 'dear pickpocket'?" cried Madge in consternation. "I didn't
+know I said 'dear.'"
+
+"I suppose you desired to make a favourable impression, in order to
+get your picture back. There are some very good points about the
+picture," he remarked, as he took it out of the case and examined it.
+"There's a good deal of drawing in it, and considerable colour."
+
+"Do you know about pictures?" asked Madge with eager interest.
+
+"Not much. I've heard more or less art-jargon in my day; that's all."
+
+Madge looked at him suspiciously.
+
+"I am sure you will agree with me that I don't know much," he
+continued, "when I tell you that I prefer your pen-and-ink work to the
+miniature. 'The Consequences of Crime' is full of humour; and I have
+been given to understand that you can't produce an effect without
+skill,--what you would probably dignify with the name of technique.
+The second small boy on the right is not at all bad."
+
+"You do know about art!" cried Madge. "I rather think you must be an
+artist."
+
+Mr. Spriggs did not exactly change countenance; he only looked as if
+he were either trying to smile or trying not to. Madge wished she
+could make out just what were the lines and shadows in his face that
+produced this singular expression.
+
+"Have you never thought of doing anything for the papers?" he asked.
+
+"Thought of it! I've spent four dollars and sixty-one cents in postage
+within the last ten months, and he always comes back to the ark!"
+
+"'He'? Comes back where?"
+
+"To the ark. I call the package 'Noah's Dove' because it never finds a
+place to roost."
+
+"The original dove did, after a while." Mr. Spriggs spoke as if he
+were taking the serious, historical view of the incident. "I imagine
+yours will, one of these days. Have you got anything you could show
+me?"
+
+"Would you really care to see?"
+
+"I can't tell till you show me," he said cautiously; but this time
+there was something so very like a smile among the stern features that
+Madge could see just what the line was that produced it.
+
+She flew to her room, and seized Noah's Dove, and in five minutes that
+much-travelled bird had spread his wings,--all six of them,--for the
+delectation of this mysterious critic.
+
+Madge watched him, as he leaned back in his chair and examined the
+sketches. He seemed inclined to take his time over them, and she felt
+sure that her Student had never before been so seriously considered.
+
+At last Mr. Spriggs laid the drawings upon the table and fixed his
+thoughtful gaze upon the artist. His contemplation of her countenance
+was prolonged a good many seconds, yet Madge did not feel in the least
+self-conscious; it never once occurred to her that this severe old
+gentleman was thinking of anything but her Student. She found herself
+taking a very low view of her work, and quite ready to believe that
+perhaps, after all, those unappreciative editors knew what they were
+about.
+
+"Have you ever sent these to the _Gay Head?_" her visitor inquired
+casually.
+
+"Oh, no! I should not dare send anything to the _Gay Head!_"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Why! Because it's the best paper in the country. It would never look
+at my things."
+
+"It certainly won't if you never give it a chance. You had better try
+it," he went on, in a tone that carried a good deal of weight. "You
+know they can do no worse than return it; and I should think, myself,
+that the _Gay Head_ was quite as well worth expending postage-stamps
+on as any other paper. Mind; I don't say they'll take your
+things,--but it's worth trying for. By the way," he added as he rose
+to go; "I wouldn't send No. 5 if I were you; it's a chestnut."
+
+He had picked up his hat and stood on his feet so unexpectedly that
+Madge was afraid he would escape her without a word of thanks.
+
+"Oh, please wait just a minute," she begged. "I haven't told you a
+single word of how grateful I am. I feel somehow as if,--as if,--_the
+worst were over!_" This time Mr. Spriggs smiled broadly.
+
+"And you will send Noah's Dove to the _Gay Head?_"
+
+"Yes, I will, because you advise me to. But you mustn't think I'm
+conceited enough to expect him to roost there."
+
+And that very evening the dove spread his wings,--only five of them
+now,--and set forth on the most ambitious flight he had yet ventured
+upon.
+
+In the next few days Madge found her thoughts much occupied with
+speculations regarding her mysterious visitor; everything about him,
+his name, his errand, both the matter and the manner of his speech,
+roused and piqued her curiosity. It was clear that he knew a great
+deal about art. And yet, if he were an artist, she would certainly
+be familiar with his name. Whatever his calling, he was sure to
+be distinguished. Those judicial eyes would be severe with any
+work more pretentious than that of a mere student; that firm,
+discriminating hand,--she had been struck with the way he handled her
+sketches,--would never have signed a poor performance. Perhaps it was
+Elihu Vedder in disguise,--or Sargent, or Abbey! Since the descent of
+the fairy-godmother upon the class a year ago, no miracle seemed
+impossible. And yet, the miracle which actually befell would have
+seemed, of all imaginable ones, the most incredible. It took place,
+too, in the simplest, most unpremeditated manner, as miracles have a
+way of doing.
+
+One evening, about a week after the return of the miniature, the
+family were gathered together as usual about the argand burner. It was
+a warm evening, and Ned, who was to devote his energies to the cause
+of electrical science, when once he was delivered from the thraldom of
+the classics, had made some disparaging remarks about the heat
+engendered by gas.
+
+"By the way," said Mr. Burtwell, "that, reminds me! I have a letter
+for you, Madge. I met the postman just after I left the door this
+noon, and he handed me this with my gas bill. Who's your New York
+correspondent?"
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," said Madge, with entire sincerity, for it was
+far too early to look for any word from the _Gay Head_.
+
+The letter had the appearance of a friendly note, being enclosed in a
+square envelope, undecorated with any business address. Madge opened
+it, and glanced at the signature, which was at the bottom of the first
+page. The blood rushed to her face as her eye fell upon the name:
+"Philip Spriggs, Art Editor of the _Gay Head_."
+
+She read the letter very slowly, with a curious feeling that this was
+a dream, and she must be careful not to wake herself up. This was what
+she read:
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+"MY DEAR MISS BURTWELL,
+
+"We like Noah's Dove as much as I thought we should. We shall hope to
+get him out some time next year. Can't you work up the pickpocket
+idea? That small boy, the second one from the right, is nucleus enough
+for another set. In fact, it is the small-boy element in your Student
+that makes him original--and true to life. We think that you have the
+knack, and count upon you for better work yet. We take pleasure in
+handing you herewith a check for this.
+
+                                                 "Yours truly,
+                                                   "PHILIP SPRIGGS."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The check was a very plain one on thin yellow paper, not in the least
+what she had looked for from a great publishing-house; but the amount
+inscribed in the upper left-hand corner of the modest slip of paper
+seemed to her worthy the proudest traditions of the _Gay Head_ itself.
+The check was for sixty dollars.
+
+As Madge gradually assured herself that she was awake, the first
+sensation that took shape in her mind was the very ridiculous one of
+regret that the mahogany table should have been deprived of its
+legitimate share in this great event. And then she remembered that it
+was her father himself who had handed her the letter.
+
+She was still wondering how she should break the news to him, when she
+found herself giving an odd little laugh, and asking, "Father, what is
+your favourite line of ocean steamers?"
+
+Mr. Burtwell, who had really felt no special curiosity as to his
+daughter's correspondent, was once more immersed in his evening paper.
+He looked up, at her words, as all the family did, and was struck by
+the expression of her face.
+
+"What makes you ask that?" he demanded sharply.
+
+"Because I know you always keep your promises, and--there's a letter
+you might like to read."
+
+Mr. Burtwell took the letter, frowning darkly, a habit of his when he
+was puzzled or anxious. He read the letter through twice, and then he
+examined the check. He did not speak at once. There was something so
+portentous in this deliberation, and something so very like emotion in
+his kind, sensible face, that even Ned was awed into respectful
+silence.
+
+At last Mr. Burtwell turned his eyes to his daughter's face, where
+everything, even suspense itself, seemed arrested, and said, in a
+matter-of-fact tone:
+
+"I think you had better go by the North German Lloyd. Shall you start
+this week?"
+
+"Oh, you darling!" cried Madge, throwing her arms about her father's
+neck, regardless of letter and check, which, being still in his
+hands, were called upon to bear the brunt of this attack; "How can I
+ever make up my mind to leave you?"
+
+
+
+
+THE IDEAS OF POLLY
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+DAN'S PLIGHT
+
+
+"_Well_, Mis' Lapham, I _am_ sorry to hear it, I _must_ say! It _doos_
+seem's though you'd _had_ your share of affliction!"
+
+Mrs. Henry Dodge always emphasised a great many of her words, which
+habit gave to her remarks an impression of peculiar sincerity and
+warmth; a perfectly correct impression, too, it must be admitted. Her
+needle, moreover, being quite as energetic as her tongue, she was a
+valuable member of the sewing-circle, at which function she was now
+assisting with much spirit.
+
+Mrs. Lapham accepted this tribute to her many trials with becoming
+modesty. She was a dull, colourless woman whose sole distinction lay
+in the visitations of affliction, and it is not too much to affirm
+that she was proud of them. She was sewing, not too rapidly, on a very
+long seam, which occupation was typical of her course of life. She
+sighed heavily in response to her neighbour's words of sympathy, and
+said:
+
+"It did seem hard that it should have been Dan, just as he was
+beginning to be a help to his uncle, and all. But I s'pose we'd ought
+to have been prepared for it."
+
+"There's been quite a pause in the death-roll," the Widow Criswell
+observed. She was engaged in sewing a button on a boy's jacket with a
+black thread.
+
+"How long is it since Eliza went?" asked Miss Louisa Bailey, pursuing
+the widow's train of thought.
+
+"Seven years this month. She began to cough at Christmas, and by
+Washington's Birthday she was in her grave."
+
+"And Jane? They didn't go very far apart, did they?"
+
+"No, Jane died eleven months before Eliza; and their mother went three
+years before that, and their father when Dan was a baby; that's goin'
+on sixteen years."
+
+"_Well_, you _have_ had a hard time, I _will_ say!" exclaimed Mrs.
+Dodge. "Your Martha losing her little girl, and John's wife breaking
+her collar-bone, and all, and now _this_ to be gone through with! I
+_should_ think you'd feel _discouraged_!"
+
+"I do; real discouraged. But I s'pose it's no more than I'd ought to
+expect, with such an inheritance."
+
+"Have there been many cases of lung-trouble on your side of the
+family, Mrs. Lapham?" Miss Bailey inquired with respectful interest.
+
+"No; Sister Fitch was the first case."
+
+For a few seconds, conversation languished, and only the snip of Mrs.
+Royce's scissors could be heard, and the soft rustle of cotton cloth.
+The sewing-circle was going on in the church vestry where there was a
+faint odour from the kerosene lamps, which had just been lighted. The
+Widow Criswell was the first to break the silence.
+
+"Polly ain't showed no symptoms yet, has she?" she asked, testing one
+of the buttons as if sceptical of her thread.
+
+"Well, no; not yet. But then Dan seemed as smart as anybody six months
+ago, and just look at him to-day!"
+
+The mental eyes of a score of women were turned upon Dan, as he was
+daily seen, round-shouldered and hollow-chested, toiling along the
+snowy country roads to and from school, coughing as he went. The topic
+was not an uncongenial one to the members of the sewing-circle, who
+had really very little to talk about. So absorbed were they, indeed,
+in the discussion of poor Dan's fate, and of the long list of
+casualties that had preceded it, that no one noticed the entrance of a
+young girl, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, who had come to help with
+the supper. There was an air of peculiar freshness about her, and as
+she stood in her blue dress and white apron near the door, her ruddy
+brown hair shining in the lamp-light, the effect was like the opening
+of a window in a close room. Her step was arrested in the act of
+coming forward, and, as she paused to listen, the pretty colour was
+quite blotted out of her cheeks.
+
+"I don't think Dan's will be a lingering case," Mrs. Lapham was
+saying. "The lingering cases are the most trying."
+
+Polly stood motionless. Was it true then, that which she had dreaded,
+that which she had shrunk from facing? Was it more than a cold that
+Dan had got? Was Dan really ill? Her Dan? Really ill? Her heart was
+beating like a trip-hammer, but no one seemed to hear it.
+
+"Queer that the doctors don't find any cure for lung-trouble," Mrs.
+Royce was saying. "Seems as though there must be some way of stopping
+it, if you could only find it out."
+
+"Have you tried Kinderling's Certain Cure?" asked Mrs. Dodge. "They do
+say that it's _very_ efficacious."
+
+"Well, no," said Mrs. Lapham; "I don't hold much to medicines myself;
+but if I did I should think it just a wilful waste to try them for
+Dan. The boy's doomed, to begin with, and there's no help for it."
+
+"There _is_ a help for it, there _shall_ be a help for it!" cried a
+voice, vibrating with youthful energy and emotion. "I don't see how
+you can talk so, Aunt Lucia! Dan _isn't_ doomed! he _sha'n't_ die! I
+won't _let_ him die!"
+
+The women looked at Polly and then they looked at one another, fairly
+abashed by the girl's spirit; all, that is, excepting Aunt Lucia, who
+was not impressionable enough to feel anything but the superficial
+rudeness of Polly's outbreak.
+
+"That'll do, Polly," she said, with a spiritless severity. "This is no
+place for a display of temper."
+
+The colour had come back into the girl's face now, and there were hot
+tears in her eyes. She turned without a word and left the room, nor
+was she seen again among the waitresses who came to hand the tea.
+
+Polly was rather ashamed of having run away from the sewing-circle,
+and she had serious thoughts of going back. It was the first time in
+her life that she had allowed herself to be routed by circumstances;
+but somehow she felt as if she could not find it in her heart to hand
+about tea and seed-cakes, sandwiches and quince-preserve, to people
+who could think such dreadful thoughts of Dan. And then, besides, she
+knew what a pleasant surprise it would be for Dan to have her all to
+himself for an evening. Uncle Seth would be sure to go for his weekly
+game of checkers with Deacon White, and she could help Dan with his
+algebra and Latin, and see that he was warm and "comfy," and perhaps
+find that he did not cough so much as he did the evening before.
+
+They had a very cozy evening, she and Dan, just as she had planned it
+in every particular but one, namely, the cough. There was no
+improvement in that since the night before, and for the first time the
+boy spoke of it.
+
+"I say, Polly! Isn't it stupid, the way this cold hangs on? Do you
+remember how long it is since I caught it?"
+
+"Why, no, Dan. It does seem a good while, doesn't it? I guess it must
+be about over by this time. Don't you know how suddenly those things
+go?"
+
+Dan, who was on his way to bed, had stopped, close to the air-tight
+stove, to warm his hands.
+
+"I wish it were summer, Polly," he said, with a wistful look in his
+great black eyes that cut Polly to the heart. "It's been such a cold
+winter; and a fellow gets kind of tired of barking all the time."
+
+"It'll be spring before you know it, Dan, you see if it isn't, and
+you'll forget you ever had a cold in your life."
+
+And when, half an hour later, the evening was over, and Polly was safe
+in her bed, she buried her head in her pillow and cried herself to
+sleep.
+
+But tears and bewailings were not a natural resource with Polly, whose
+forte was action. Her first thought in the morning was: what should
+she do about it? Something must be done, of course, and she was the
+only one to do it. What it was she had not the faintest idea, but
+then it was her business to find out. Here was she, eighteen years
+old, strong and hearty, and with good practical common sense, the
+natural guardian and protector of her younger brother. It was time she
+bestirred herself!
+
+As a first step, she got up with the sun and dressed herself, and then
+she slipped down-stairs to the parlour where such of her father's
+books as had been rescued from auction were lodged; her father had
+been the village doctor. All the medical works had been sold, and many
+other volumes besides, but among those remaining was an old
+encyclopædia which had proved to Polly a mine of information on many
+subjects. As she took down the third volume, she heard a portentous
+_Meaouw!_ and there, outside the window, stood Mufty, the grey cat,
+rubbing himself against the frosty pane. Polly opened the window and
+Mufty sprang in, bringing a puff of frosty air in his wake. Without so
+much as a word of thanks he walked over to the stove. Finding it,
+however, cold, as only an empty air-tight stove can be cold, he
+strolled, with a disengaged air, beneath which lurked a very distinct
+intention, toward the only warm object in the room, namely, Polly in
+her woollen gown. She had the volume open on the table before her, and
+was deep in its perusal, murmuring as she read.
+
+"Appears to have committed its ravages from the earliest time," Polly
+read, "and its distribution is probably universal, though far from
+equal."
+
+At this point Mufty lifted himself lightly in the air, after the
+manner peculiar to cats, and landed in Polly's lap. After switching
+his tail across her eyes once or twice, and rubbing himself against
+the book in rather a disturbing way, he at last settled down, and
+began purring vigorously in token of satisfaction. The room was very
+cold, and Polly, without interrupting her reading, was glad to bury
+her hands in the thick fur. Presently the colour in her cheeks grew
+brighter and her breath came quicker. There _was_ a way, after all!
+People had been saved, people a good deal sicker than Dan,--saved by
+a change of climate. What could be simpler? Just to pick Dan up and
+carry him off! And such fun, too!
+
+"Mufty," she whispered, excitedly, "Mufty, what should you say to Dan
+and me going away and never coming back again?"
+
+"_Brrrrr, brrrrr_," quoth Mufty.
+
+"I knew you would approve! You know how necessary it is, and you think
+it best to do it; don't you, Mufty?"
+
+"_Brrrr, brrrrrrrrrr_," quoth Mufty, again.
+
+"O Mufty, what a darling you are, to approve! And there isn't really
+any one's opinion that I care more about!"
+
+She got up and went to the window, while Mufty, not to be dislodged,
+hastily established himself across her shoulder, his fore paws well
+down her back, his tail contentedly waving before her eyes. The
+picture which he thus turned his back upon was a wintry one.
+
+"Cold morning, isn't it, Mufty?" said Polly. "No kind of a climate for
+a delicate person."
+
+"_Brrrr, brrrrrr!_" Mufty was digging a claw into her shoulder to
+adjust himself more comfortably.
+
+"Ow!" cried Polly. Then, lifting him down: "Mufty, you're a very
+intelligent cat, and I haven't a doubt that your judgment is as
+penetrating as your claws. All the same, I guess you'd better get down
+and come with me and help Susan get the breakfast. Don't you hear her
+shaking down the kitchen stove?"
+
+Whereupon Mufty, finding himself dropped upon the coldly unsympathetic
+ingrain carpet, desisted from further encouraging remarks.
+
+Polly was a schoolgirl still, though she was nearing the dignity of
+graduation. She had no special taste for study, but she cherished the
+Yankee reverence for education, and although it was not quite clear to
+her how Latin declensions and algebraic symbols were to help her in
+after-life, she committed them to memory with a very good grace, and
+enjoyed all the satisfaction of work for work's sake.
+
+It happened, therefore, that the pursuit of learning interfered for
+several hours with the far more important object which she had at
+heart to-day; and it was not until two o'clock that she found herself
+at liberty to do what every nerve and fibre of her young organism was
+straining to accomplish.
+
+[Illustration: "Mufty hastily established himself across her shoulder."]
+
+"I'm not going right home," she said to Dan; "I've got an errand to
+do."
+
+"Polly's got an idea," Dan said to himself, struck with the eagerness
+in her face, and the haste with which she walked away. "What a girl
+she is for ideas, any way!" and he trudged along the snowy road with
+the other boys, getting rather out of breath in the effort to keep up
+with them.
+
+Polly, meanwhile, stepped swiftly on her way. She was thinking of Dan.
+He at least was a natural student and had always led his class. She
+was not only fond of Dan, but proud of him, too. He was a handsome
+boy, with those clear, dark eyes of his in which a less partial
+observer than Polly might have read the promise of fine things.
+
+"Yes," Polly said to herself, as she sped along the road that
+glittering winter's day: "Dan isn't just an ordinary boy. He's an
+unusual boy. Why, the world couldn't _afford_ to lose Dan!" and she
+looked into the faces of the passers-by, as if to challenge their
+acquiescence in this bold statement.
+
+Whether Dan was all that Polly thought him, only the future could
+prove,--that future that Polly was about to secure to him. If she
+idealised him a bit, why, all the better for Dan, and all the better
+for Polly, too. One thing is sure, that no one who could have looked
+into the sister's heart that winter's day would have doubted her for
+an instant when she said to herself:
+
+"He sha'n't die! I won't let him die! But, _oh! how I wish that cough
+were mine!_"
+
+From her interview with the doctor, Polly brought away with her only
+one word, "_Colorado_"; and with that word shining like a great snowy
+peak in her imagination, she took another swift walk to a farmhouse
+on the outskirts of the village, where dwelt a man whose son had gone
+to Colorado three years ago.
+
+"Great place!" he told her; "Great place, Colorado! Mile up in the
+air! Prairie-dogs and Rocky Mountains! Big cattle ranches that could
+put all Fieldham in their vest pockets! Cold as thunder, hot as
+thunder! Blizzards and cyclones and water-spouts! Wind! Blow you right
+out of your boots! Cures sick folks? Oh, yes. Better than all the
+doctors. Braces 'em right up--stands 'em on their legs! Nothing like
+it, so Bill says. Costs a sight to get out there; oh, yes! Fifty
+dollars and fifteen cents! Queer about that fifteen cents. Seems as
+though they might ha' throwed that in on such a long trip's that; but
+them railroads ain't got no insides any way; and when you once git out
+there, why, _there you are!_"
+
+The philosophy of that last remark appealed particularly to Polly.
+"When you once git out there, why, _there you are!_" Somehow it seemed
+to make everything perfectly simple and easy. Blizzards and cyclones?
+Yes, to be sure. But then it was the air that you went out for, Polly
+reasoned, that was what was going to cure you; and perhaps the more
+you got of it the quicker you would get cured. And Polly hurried home
+from her last visit, flushed and eager for the fray. She found her
+uncle in the barn putting up his horses.
+
+Mr. Seth Lapham was a good man; there could be no doubt about that.
+Nothing but a sincere and very efficient conscience could have so
+tempered his natural penuriousness as to cause him to receive into his
+family a mere sister-in-law's children and allow them to "want for
+nothing"; that, too, at a time when his own children, John and Martha,
+were still a bill of expense to him, before their respective
+marriages. For many years, Uncle Seth had conscientiously, if not
+lavishly, fed and clothed the little orphans, whose entire patrimony
+in the Savings Bank scarcely yielded interest enough to pay for their
+boots and shoes; but it remained for the present crisis to prove him
+as open-minded as he was conscientious. For, no sooner had Polly
+finished the rapid exposition of her great plan--how they were to draw
+the money from the bank to pay for their tickets and start them in
+their new life, and how they were to earn their own living when once
+they got started--than he was ready to admit the reasonableness of
+it.
+
+"And when you once get out there, why, there you are!" Polly declared,
+in her most convincing tone.
+
+As she stood before him, flushed and breathless, prepared to do battle
+for Dan to the very last extremity, her uncle gave old Dick a slap
+that sent him tramping into his stall, and then said, with the
+drawling accent peculiar to him:
+
+"Well, Polly, you're a pretty sensible girl. If the doctor says so, I
+guess it's wuth trying."
+
+Then Polly, who had so courageously braced herself for the contest,
+experienced an overwhelming revulsion of feeling, and a great wave of
+gratitude and compunction swept over her. To Uncle Seth's speechless
+astonishment she flung her arms around his big neck, and, with some
+thing very like a sob, she cried:
+
+"Oh, Uncle Seth, I never loved you half enough!"
+
+Uncle Seth bore it very well, all things considered. He got pretty red
+in the face, but happily a full grizzly beard kept the secret of his
+blushes.
+
+"Why, Polly!" he said, pounding away on her shoulder in an attempt to
+be consolatory; "you've always ben a good girl; not a mite of trouble,
+not a mite!"
+
+They walked up to the house, Polly holding the rough, hairy hand as
+tightly as if it had been a solid chunk of gold. Before the short walk
+to the kitchen door was finished they had become sworn conspirators,
+and Uncle Seth was so entirely in the spirit of the piece that he held
+Polly back a minute to say, in a sepulchral whisper,
+
+"Just you leave your Aunt Lucia to me. I'll fix her."
+
+Polly never knew all the pains Uncle Seth was at to "fix" Aunt Lucia,
+but by hook or crook the "fixing" was accomplished, and Aunt Lucia had
+given a mournful consent.
+
+"I shouldn't feel it right," she declared, "to let you suppose I
+thought there was any hope of its curing Dan. That boy's doomed, if
+ever a boy was, and I don't know how you'll ever manage with the
+funeral and all, way out there in Colorado, far from kith and kin. But
+your Uncle Seth says you'd better try it, and I ain't one to oppose
+just for the sake of opposin'. I've been through too much for that.
+Only I warn you; mind, you don't forget I warned you."
+
+Polly listened to Aunt Lucia's lugubrious views with scarcely a twinge
+of alarm, and in five minutes she had plunged into preparations for
+the journey.
+
+As for Dan, the mere thought of Colorado seemed to revive him. "Larks"
+of any description had always been very much to his taste, but the
+unending "lark" of an escape into the big world with Polly filled him
+with a fairly riotous joy.
+
+And so it happened that by the time the March thaws were setting in
+and the March winds were getting ready for their boisterous attack,
+Polly and Dan had slipped away, and were travelling as fast as steam
+could carry them toward the high, health-giving region of the Rocky
+Mountains.
+
+"A harebrained venture as ever was!" Miss Louisa Bailey declared when
+she heard of it. "I don't see what Mr. and Mrs. Lapham were thinking
+of, to countenance such a step!"
+
+The monthly sewing-circle had come round again, and Mrs. Lapham, whose
+turn it was to look after the supper, had stepped out of the room for
+a moment.
+
+"Well, I don't know but it's about as well," the Widow Criswell
+rejoined, sighing profoundly. She was more out of spirits than usual
+to-day, for circumstances, otherwise known as Mrs. Royce, the
+president of the sewing-circle, had forced into her hands a baby's
+pinafore, the cheerful suggestiveness of which could only serve to
+deepen her gloom. "The boy's doomed, wherever he is, and Sister
+Lapham never had any real taste for sick-nursing. She's spared a sight
+o' trouble and expense."
+
+"_Well_," said Mrs. Henry Dodge, winding a needleful of No. 20 thread
+off the spool, with the hissing sound familiar to the ears of the
+seamstress, and breaking it off with a snap, "_I_ think it's the very
+_best_ thing that could have been _done_. The minute I _saw_ that
+girl's face last sewing-circle, I _knew_ she'd make out to _save that
+boy_. Mark my words, he'll outlive us all _yet!_ I declare, I always
+_did_ like Polly Fitch. She reminds me of _myself_ when _I_ was a
+girl!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+WESTWARD HO!
+
+
+"Pike's Peak or Bust!" was the chosen motto of those early pilgrims
+who, thirty-odd years ago, crossed the continent in a "prairie
+schooner," escorted by a cavalry guard to keep Indian marauders at a
+respectful distance; and "Pike's Peak or Bust!" was the motto chosen
+by Polly and Dan, our two young modern pilgrims, as they journeyed
+with greater ease, but with no less courage and venturesomeness,
+across the two thousand miles intervening between quiet Fieldham and
+their goal.
+
+"Pike's Peak or Bust!" No one looking into the bright young faces
+turned so bravely westward ho! could have had any doubt as to which of
+the two alternatives hinted at in that picturesque motto would be
+fulfilled for them. On they journeyed, on and on, past populous
+cities, across great rivers, over vast plains brown with last year's
+stubble or white with newly fallen snow, till at last there came a
+morning when they awoke in the tingling dawn, and, looking forth
+across miles of shadowy prairie, beheld a great white dome cut clear
+against a sapphire sky. On the train rushed, on and on, straight
+toward that snowy dome, and, as they drew nearer, other mountains
+began to define themselves on either side the central peak, and
+presently a town revealed itself, and they knew that it could be no
+other than Colorado Springs, sleeping there at the foot of the great
+range, all unconscious of the two young pilgrims, coming so
+confidingly to seek their fortunes within its borders.
+
+Their first spring and summer were a very happy time, of which Polly
+and Dan could relate a hundred noteworthy incidents. They rented a
+tiny cottage of three rooms in the unfashionable part of the town
+where rents were low. Here was a bit of ground all about, and a
+narrow porch that looked straight into the face of the splendid old
+Peak; and here they lived the merriest of lives on the smallest and
+most precarious of incomes; for they were determined to infringe as
+little as possible upon the slender capital, snugly stowed away in a
+Colorado bank.
+
+Dan soon found employment in a livery-stable at fifty cents a day. His
+chief business was the agreeable one of delivering "teams" and
+saddle-horses to pleasure-seekers at the north end of the town, riding
+back to the stable again on a "led horse" provided for the purpose. If
+not a very ambitious calling, it was, at least, exceedingly good fun,
+and it also had the merit of conforming to the doctor's directions.
+"Don't let him get behind a counter or into any stuffy back-office,"
+the doctor had said to Polly. "Whatever he does, let it keep him in
+the open air as much as possible." Had the very obvious wisdom of this
+advice required demonstration, Dan's rapid improvement would have been
+sufficient.
+
+They did not shock the sensibilities of the sewing-circle by writing
+home exactly what the employment was that Dan had found, while, for
+themselves, Polly had her own little ways of embellishing the somewhat
+prosaic situation. She dubbed the young stable-boy Hercules, and
+always spoke of the establishment he served as "The Augæans." Nor did
+her invention fail when, a month or two later, Dan got a place at
+somewhat higher wages as druggist's messenger; for then he was
+promptly informed that his name was Mercury, and that there were wings
+on his heels, though he could not himself see them, by reason of their
+being turned back, and visible only when his feet were in rapid
+motion!
+
+Meanwhile, Polly, too, was doing her part, though it had not yet
+proved very lucrative. When they first took the house, Dan painted a
+sign for her, bearing the following announcement:
+
+               FINE NEEDLEWORK AND EMBROIDERY TO ORDER.
+
+But the spring and summer went by, and autumn came, and still the sign
+which had ornamented their house-front for so many months had as yet
+attracted the notice of only the impecunious class of customers their
+immediate neighbourhood afforded. Polly had gratefully taken coarse
+work at low prices, but she still hoped for better things. The street
+where their tiny cottage stood, though at the wrong end of the town,
+was a thoroughfare for pleasure parties driving to the great cañons,
+and Polly never saw the approach of a pretty turnout without a thrill
+of hope that the occupants might be attracted by her sign. She knew
+herself to be a quick and skilful needlewoman, and she thought that if
+only she might once get started in well-paid work, Dan, who was
+growing stronger every day, might go on with his education at the
+Colorado College Preparatory School. She had found out all about the
+college, of which she had formed a very high opinion, and she told
+herself proudly that Dan had such a good mind that he would not need
+to study too hard.
+
+One evening in September they were clearing the supper table,
+preparatory to washing up the dishes, which ceremony was one of the
+numerous "larks" by which brother and sister found life diversified
+and enlivened.
+
+"Mercury, I have an idea!" Polly suddenly cried.
+
+"Never saw the time you hadn't, Polly."
+
+"But this is a great idea, a really great one, because it includes all
+the little ones, like Milton's universe in the crescent moon; don't
+you remember?"
+
+"My goody, Polly! But it must be a corker!"--and Dan was all
+attention.
+
+Now Polly, it is needless to repeat, was a young person of ideas; that
+was her strong point, and Dan at least considered her a marvel of
+ingenuity and invention. Their tiny sitting-room, where Dan slept, was
+a witness to her taste and originality. There were picturesque shelves
+which Dan had made in accordance with her directions; there were
+cheesecloth window-curtains, with rustic boughs in place of poles;
+there were barrels standing bottom upward for tables, draped with
+ancient "duds"--a changeable-silk skirt of her mother's over one, a
+moth-eaten camel's-hair shawl over another. The crack in the only
+mirror which a munificent landlord had provided was concealed by a
+kinikinick vine; a piece of Turkey-red at five cents a yard, their one
+bit of extravagance, converted Dan's cot-bed into a canopy of state.
+And having heard Dan chant the praises of her "ideas" with gratifying
+persistence for a month past, Polly had begun to wonder whether they
+might not be turned to account.
+
+"What's the latest idea, Polly?" Dan asked, seizing a dripping handful
+of what they were pleased to call their "family plate."
+
+"Well, Dan, I want you to paint something more on my sign. Only two
+words; it won't take you long."
+
+"What two words?"
+
+"_Also Ideas!_"
+
+Dan reflected a moment, and then he proceeded to dance a jig of
+delight, wildly waving his dish-cloth about Polly's head.
+
+"Polly, you beat the world!" he cried.
+
+A house-painter lived next door, from whom Dan borrowed paint and
+brushes, and before they slept the old sign was further decorated with
+two magic words done in brilliant scarlet. The inscription now read:
+
+               FINE NEEDLEWORK AND EMBROIDERY TO ORDER.
+                              ALSO IDEAS
+
+There was something positively dazzling about those two words in
+flaming scarlet, and Polly and Dan stepped out twice in the course of
+their early breakfast to have a look at them.
+
+"Don't you feel scared, Polly?" asked Dan, as he left her at her
+dish-washing.
+
+"Scared? Not I!" and she walked down the path with him, drying her
+hands on a dish-towel.
+
+It was a delicious morning in late September; the air dry and
+sparkling as a jewel, the mountains baring their shoulders to the
+morning sun. The Peak had already a dash of winter on his crown, but
+the barren slope of rock below looked like an impregnable fortress.
+Polly and Dan were never tired of wondering at the changing moods that
+played so gloriously upon that steadfast front.
+
+"Seems as if they must almost see him from Fieldham this morning, he's
+so bright," said Polly.
+
+"That's so," Dan agreed. "I say, Polly, isn't he enjoying himself,
+though?"
+
+"Course he is!" Polly answered. "Isn't everybody?"
+
+Then Polly went back to her splashing water and flopping dish-towels,
+and was busy for an hour about the house. By and bye she sat herself
+down in the little porch and proceeded to put good honest stitches
+into a child's frock, for the making of which she was to receive
+twenty-five cents. Not very good pay for a day's work, but
+"twenty-five-hundred-million per cent. better than nothing," as she
+had assured the doubtful Dan.
+
+Life looked very different to her since those two bright words had
+been added to the sign. Not that it had looked otherwise than pleasant
+before; but there was so little originality in the idea of doing
+needlework that it had scarcely merited success, while this,--of
+course it must succeed!
+
+In truth, she had sat there hardly an hour, when she distinctly heard
+the occupant of a yellow buckboard read the sign, and then turn to her
+companion with a word of comment. Polly had always had an idea that
+one of those yellow buckboards would be the making of her fortune yet.
+The one in question was drawn by a pretty pair of ponies, and two
+young girls were in possession of it.
+
+"I have an idea they'll notice it again, when they come back this
+way," Polly surmised. "But if they're going up the cañon they won't
+come back till just as I'm getting dinner."
+
+And, sure enough, the mutton stew was just beginning to simmer, when
+there came a rap at the door.
+
+The front door opened directly into the little sitting-room, and was
+never closed in pleasant weather. As Polly emerged from the kitchen,
+her face very red from hobnobbing with the stove, she found one of
+the girls of the yellow buckboard standing in the doorway.
+
+"Good morning, Miss----"
+
+"Fitch. My name is Polly Fitch."
+
+"What a jolly name!" the visitor exclaimed. "I think you must be the
+one with ideas."
+
+"Yes," said Polly, "Do you want one? Come in and take a seat."
+
+"I do want an idea most dreadfully," the young lady rejoined, taking
+the proffered chair. "I want something for a booby prize for a
+backgammon tournament. I don't suppose anybody ever heard of a
+backgammon tournament before, but it's going to be great fun. We are
+doing it to take the conceit out of a young man we know, who declares
+that there's nothing in backgammon that he didn't learn the first time
+he played it with his grandfather."
+
+"And you want a booby prize?" Polly looked thoughtful for the space of
+sixteen seconds. Then she cried; "Oh, I have an idea! Get somebody to
+whittle you a couple of wooden dice; then paint them white and mark
+them with black sixes on each of the six sides of each die. You could
+call it '_a booby pair-o'-dice_' if you don't object to puns!"
+
+"What a good idea! It's simply perfect! I wonder whom I could get to
+do it for me?"
+
+"Why, Dan could do it with his jackknife, just as well as not. If
+you'll come to-morrow morning you shall have them."
+
+Accordingly, the next morning, the young lady appeared, and was
+enchanted with her prize.
+
+"And how much will they be?" she asked.
+
+"Well, I had thought of charging twenty-five cents for an idea, and
+the dice didn't cost us anything and only took a few minutes to
+make."
+
+"Supposing we call it a dollar. Would that be fair?"
+
+"I don't believe they are worth a dollar."
+
+"Yes, they are; I should be ashamed to take them for less. What a
+splendid idea that was of yours, to put out that sign!"
+
+"I should think it was, if I could get any more customers like you!"
+
+"I'll send them to you,--never you fear!"
+
+Miss Beatrice Compton returned to her buckboard a captive to Polly.
+
+"She's the sweetest thing," she told her mother, who chanced to be her
+passenger on this occasion. "She's got eyes and hair exactly of a
+colour, a sort of reddish brown, and her eyes twinkle at you in the
+dearest way, and she wears her hair in the quaintest pug, just in the
+right place on her head, sort of up in the air; and she's a lady, too;
+anybody can see that. I wonder who 'Dan' is; you don't suppose she's
+married, do you?"
+
+"You can't tell," Mrs. Compton replied. "Persons in that walk of life
+marry very young."
+
+"But, Mamma, she isn't a 'person,' and she doesn't belong to 'that
+walk of life.' She's a lady."
+
+Miss Beatrice was as good as her word, and three days had not passed
+when a horseman stopped before the little cottage, sprang from his
+horse, and looked about for a place to tie; there was no hitching-post
+near by. Polly was sitting in the porch making buttonholes.
+
+"If you were coming in here, you'd better lead him right up the walk,"
+she said, "and tie him to the porch-post."
+
+"That's a good idea!" the young man replied, promptly acting upon the
+advice. "You are Miss Polly Fitch, are you not?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I knew you the minute I saw you, because Miss Compton described you
+to me." This was meant to be very flattering, but Polly, who seldom
+missed a point, was quite unconscious that one had been made.
+
+"Have you come for an idea?" she asked, quite innocently, and Mr.
+Reginald Axton, who was rather sensitive, wondered whether she "meant
+anything." On second thoughts he concluded that she did not, and he
+began again:
+
+"I got that booby prize you made."
+
+"Did you?" cried Polly, with animation. "Oh, I wonder whether you
+were the one--" she paused.
+
+"The one that what?" he asked hastily.
+
+"The one that thought there wasn't anything in the game."
+
+"Well, yes, I was. And the others had all the luck, and so of course I
+got beaten."
+
+"Of course!" said Polly, with a twinkle of delight.
+
+"I see you're on their side, but all the same I want you to help me to
+pay them back. You see I wanted to do something about it, and I
+thought of sending Miss Compton some flowers with a verse, and I
+thought perhaps you could do the verse."
+
+"Did you expect me to furnish the idea, too?"
+
+"Why, of course! That's why I came to you. I thought, if you were so
+awfully bright, perhaps you could make verses."
+
+Polly looked thoughtful.
+
+"I should charge you quite a lot for it," she said,--"much as a dollar
+perhaps; for you know writing verses is quite an accomplishment."
+
+"I'll pay a dollar a line for it! I know a fellow that gets more than
+that from the magazines. And I'm sure that it will be good if you do
+it."
+
+"My gracious! that's great pay!" cried Polly, with sparkling eyes,
+ignoring the compliment, but enchanted to hear what a price verses
+brought. "I'll send it to you by mail."
+
+"No, I guess I'll look in every once in a while and see how you're
+getting on!"
+
+"Dear me!" said Polly, "you don't expect me to spend a week over it,
+do you? That isn't why you offered such high pay?"
+
+"Oh, no; the quicker you got it done the more I should be willing to
+pay for it." He paused a moment. "And, Miss Fitch," he went on, "I
+don't care if you make it a little,--well,--a little soft. She
+deserves it, she's such a tease! Her name's Beatrice," he added. "We
+call her Trix, if that'll help you any."
+
+Polly understood Mr. Reginald perfectly, and she dismissed him with a
+twinkle which promised well. Then Polly proceeded to cudgel her
+brain, while the needle went in and out, and a buttonhole formed
+itself in the firm, narrow line that makes of a buttonhole a work of
+art.
+
+"I wish I could rhyme words as well as I can stitches," Polly thought
+to herself, as she held up a completed buttonhole, with the honest
+pride of a good workman. "Sixes,--Trixes! that heart were Trix's! That
+ought to be made to go. A double rhyme, too! I don't believe he
+expects a double rhyme." And in and out and in and out her thoughts
+plied themselves round and about the two words, and her cheeks got
+quite hot with the pleasurable excitement of this new mental
+exercise.
+
+At last she tossed down her work, and, fetching a piece of brown
+wrapping-paper, proceeded, with many erasures and tinkerings, to
+inscribe upon it the following verse:
+
+         Were hearts the dice and love the game,
+             Of no avail were double sixes;
+         On every heart is but one name,
+             We nought could throw but _double-Trixes!_
+
+"Rather neat," said Polly to herself, "rather neat! Now if he were to
+send it with two bunches of roses of six each, I think it could not
+fail to make an impression. I should rather hate to pay another person
+to make love for me, though," she went on, with a little toss of the
+head; and then she picked up her work and began again to "rhyme
+buttonholes."
+
+When Dan came home to supper he had much to learn. He was lost in
+wonder over the rhyme which Polly repeated to him, but still more
+impressed by the four great silver dollars she had to show; for her
+impatient customer had already called for the verses.
+
+"Jiminy!" cried Dan; "that's most a week's earnings for some of us!"
+
+"Yes," Polly replied, demurely; "that's what Mrs. O'Toole would have
+paid me for sixteen baby-dresses. Things even themselves out in the
+long run, don't they, Dan?" As though Polly knew anything about the
+long run, by the way!
+
+Before Christmas Polly was driving a pretty trade, not only in ideas
+but in sewing. She had in all ten dozen pocket handkerchiefs to mark
+for Christmas customers, besides towels and table-linen, sheets and
+pillow-cases. People had found her out, and she had to refuse more
+than one good order for lack of time. But needlework alone, quick as
+she was in doing it, would have given her but a meagre income, had she
+not been able to furnish "also ideas."
+
+One lady, for instance, came to ask her for an "idea" for a
+Thanksgiving dinner, and Polly not only suggested the idea, but
+carried it out for her. She went about with a big basket to all the
+markets and collected perfect specimens of vegetables with which to
+make a centrepiece for the dinner table. The dinner was given in a
+house where the round dining table would seat twenty-four guests. In
+this ample centre she erected a pyramid of fruits of the earth. There
+were crimson beets, pale yellow squashes, scarlet tomatoes, and the
+long, thin fingers of the string-bean; potatoes furnished a
+comfortable brown, which, together with the soft bronze of the onion,
+harmonized discordant colours; and, crowning all, the silken tassel of
+the red-eared corn raised its graceful crest.
+
+The hostess was delighted with her table, and more delighted still
+with the pretty decorator. Polly's fame flew from one to another
+throughout that kindly and prosperous community, and she found herself
+accumulating a goodly hoard. As Christmas drew near, many a perplexed
+shopper came to her for "ideas," and all went away content. She had
+long since discovered that the Colorado shops were treasure-houses of
+pretty things. She never passed a jeweller's window without taking
+note of his latest novelties; she kept an eye upon Mexican and Indian
+bazaars, and Chinese bric-à-brac collections; she made a study of
+Colorado gems, and knew where the prizes lay hidden; she ran through
+the books in the bookstores; she was alert for new inventions in
+harness decoration and bridle trimmings; she gave hints for fancy-work
+of divers kinds.
+
+Mercury, meanwhile, sped about the town, dispensing healing, as Polly
+often reminded him, and "getting more than I dispense, Polly," he
+would declare in return. "I feel so well that everything is a regular
+lark!"
+
+And so Dan made a "lark" of his work, and trotted all day in his
+capacity of Mercury, little dreaming of the wealth that was
+accumulating for his use; while Polly went on with her hoarding, of
+which she made a great secret, and thought of a still better time
+coming.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A MERRY CHRISTMAS
+
+
+Of all Polly's new friends, not one took a warmer interest in the
+young idea-vendor than that first customer of hers, Miss Beatrice
+Compton. Miss Beatrice was a warm-hearted and enthusiastic girl, who
+never did anything by halves; and when she talked of Polly, of Polly's
+skill and of Polly's originality, when she extolled Polly's eyes and
+Polly's hair, Polly's wit and Polly's sweetness, few listeners
+remained quite unmoved and incurious. Among the many who were thus
+stirred to seek out this youthful paragon, was Miss Compton's
+brother-in-law, Mr. Horace Clapp. Nor was an idle curiosity his only
+motive in taking the step. Beneath the pretext he found for paying the
+visit lurked a rather shamefaced purpose of doing this "plucky little
+genius" a good turn.
+
+It happened, therefore, one morning in December, that Polly came home
+from her marketing to find a stranger sitting in her porch. A
+dog-cart, driven by a groom in livery, was passing and repassing her
+door; and one look at the occupant of the porch sufficed to fix the
+connection between the two. He was a well-dressed man of thirty or
+more, who rose as she opened the gate and saluted her as if she had
+been a duchess.
+
+"Miss Polly Fitch?" he inquired, as he stood before her, hat in hand.
+
+It was noticeable that no one ever omitted the "Polly" from the girl's
+name. It seemed as much a part of her as the ruddy hair and the dimple
+in her chin. That dimple, by the way, should have been mentioned long
+ago; but that, in its turn, was so essential a feature, that one would
+as soon think it necessary to state that Polly's nose had an upward
+tilt as that her chin had a dimple. Any one who had ever heard of
+Polly must know that her nose would tilt and her chin have a dimple.
+
+Polly had a large market-basket on her arm, and as she felt in her
+pocket for the key to the front door, her visitor took possession of
+the basket. She was a good deal impressed by the attention from so
+magnificent a personage, and one, moreover, of advanced years. She
+began to think that she must be mistaken about his being thirty; why,
+that was Cousin John's age, and Cousin John was quite an oldish man.
+She motioned her visitor to enter, and it must be admitted that there
+was no oppressive reverence in her tone as she said:
+
+"If you would tell me _your_ name, now we should be starting fair!"
+
+"My name is Horace Clapp. Did you ever hear of me?"
+
+"No, I don't think so. Ought I to have?"
+
+"Well, no, there's no obligation in the matter. I only had an idea
+that I was a local celebrity, like you."
+
+"Like me?"
+
+"Yes! You're a surprise to the town and so am I."
+
+"What have you done to surprise the town?" asked Polly, filled with
+curiosity.
+
+"I've only got rich very fast."
+
+"Why, so have I!" said Polly. "We _are_ a good deal alike."
+
+"Really? Then you will be in an even better position to advise me than
+I thought for."
+
+"I _supposed_ you had come for an idea," said Polly, as naturally as
+if her wares had consisted in tape and buttons.
+
+Offering her visitor the only fairly comfortable chair in the room,
+she seated herself by the window, near which was one of the draped
+barrels with her work-basket on top.
+
+"You won't mind my sewing, please," she said, picking up a bit of
+embroidery; "I can think better that way."
+
+The new customer meanwhile was wondering whether Miss Polly would
+guess that he had come partly from curiosity, and partly with that
+other far more daring motive of finding a way to do her a service.
+And yet, who could tell? Perhaps she _could_ give him a hint; perhaps
+she _was_ the youthful sibyl people seemed half inclined to believe
+her.
+
+"Miss Polly," he said, leaning forward in his chair, with his elbows
+on his knees,--"Miss Polly, I've got an awful lot of money, and I
+don't know what to do with it."
+
+Mere words had not often the power of staying Polly's needle, but at
+this astounding declaration she actually let her work fall in her lap,
+and gazed with wide-eyed wonder at the speaker.
+
+"Yes," he went on, "I really want to do some good with it, and I've
+tried in lots of ways and I've never hit it off. I should just like to
+tell you about some of the things I've made a fizzle of in the last
+year,--if it wouldn't bore you?"
+
+"Oh, no, it wouldn't bore me; nothing ever does. Only,--I can't
+understand it. Why, I think I could give away _a thousand dollars a
+year_ just there at home, where we used to live, and every dollar of
+it would be well spent!"
+
+"Yes, Miss Polly," he said very meekly, "but, you see, what I've got
+to consider is _two hundred thousand_ dollars a year!"
+
+He looked positively ashamed of himself, and Polly did not wonder. She
+had given a little gasp at mention of the sum; then she shook her head
+with decision. Polly knew her limits.
+
+"I haven't any ideas big enough for that" she said. "I should as soon
+think of advising the President of the United States!"
+
+"Well, if you won't advise me about mine, perhaps you will tell me
+what you are going to do with your own riches. You said you were
+getting rich, did you not? You know," he added, "it isn't necessary to
+make the map of a State as big as the State itself."
+
+"You have ideas, too," Polly remarked appreciatively, resuming her
+embroidery.
+
+"But you have not told me how you are going to use your riches."
+
+"Oh, I'm going to use mine for education."
+
+"Going up to the college?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, no; there'd be no good in my knowing a lot. I've been nearly
+through the Fieldham High School already, and the little that I've
+learned doesn't seem to stick very well. No, indeed! I'm going to--"
+she paused with a feeling of loyalty to Dan--"I'm only going to help
+on the general cause of education," she finished demurely.
+
+As she made this sphinx-like remark, Mr. Horace Clapp wished she would
+relinquish the pursuit of wealth long enough to put her work down and
+let him see exactly what she meant.
+
+"I think that is the best use to put money to," he said gravely, "but
+I'm not in the way of knowing about people who need help. Couldn't you
+tell me of somebody, some young man who wanted to go to college, or
+some girl who would like to go abroad? Of course, I could found a
+scholarship, or endow a 'chair,' but one likes a bit of the personal
+element in one's work."
+
+Polly's heart gave a thump. Here was a chance for Dan; a word from her
+was all that was needed to make his path an easy one. Had she a right
+to withhold that word,--to cramp and hinder him? She did not speak for
+a good many seconds; she simply plied her needle with more and more
+diligence, while her breath came fast and unevenly. Suddenly a furious
+blush went mounting up into her temples and spread itself down her
+neck. Her visitor thought he had never seen any one blush like that,
+and it somehow struck him that his little plan was swamped. Quite
+right he was, too. Polly blushed to think that she had thought of Dan
+in such a connection for a single instant.
+
+It was very unreasoning, this impulse of rebellious shame: are we not
+admonished to help one another? And what could the helpers do if all
+their benefactions were indignantly thrust back? Very unreasoning
+indeed, but natural!--natural as the colour of her hair and the
+quickness of her wit, natural as all the graces and virtues, all the
+misconceptions and foibles, that went to make up the personality of
+Polly Fitch,--of Polly Fitch, the daughter of Puritan ancestors; men
+and women who could starve, body and mind, but who never had learned
+to accept a charity.
+
+Before the flush had died away, Polly was quite herself again, and
+looked up so brightly and sweetly that Mr. Clapp took heart of hope.
+
+"You do know somebody like that; I'm sure you do!" he said
+insinuatingly.
+
+"I?" said Polly. "I know hardly anybody. But I'm sure the president of
+the college could tell you of a dozen boys who would be grateful for
+help."
+
+And so Mr. Horace Clapp's little plan had come to nought, and he took
+his leave more than ever convinced that it is a very difficult thing
+to spend one's money in a good cause. As he stood a moment, waiting
+for his dog-cart, a boy came down the street with a parcel under his
+arm.
+
+"Say, Mister, do you know whether Daniel Fitch lives here?" he asked.
+
+"Daniel Fitch?" thought Mr. Clapp, as the boy turned in at the gate.
+"Daniel Fitch? Where have I heard that name? Oh, yes, Beatrice said
+there was a brother; runs errands for Jones, the druggist. Plucky
+children! It would be pleasant to give them a lift!"
+
+As for Polly, she had not a twinge of regret. In fact, she rather
+enjoyed dwelling upon the splendour of the opportunity she had thrust
+from her, the better to glory in her escape. And she looked forward
+with entire confidence to the time when she should test Dan's feeling
+on the point.
+
+On Christmas Eve they hung up their stockings, fairly bulging with
+materialised jokes and ideas which the morning was to bring to light,
+and we may be sure that they did not wait for the lazy winter sun to
+put in an appearance before beginning their investigations. Amid
+shouts of merriment the revelations of a remarkably inventive Santa
+Claus were greeted, while Polly held her climbing excitement in check
+until the hour should be ripe for greater things. But when, at last,
+just as the sun was peeping in at the kitchen window, Dan's ferret
+fingers penetrated the extreme toe of his sock, she grew so agitated
+that she quite forgot to make a certain witty observation she had been
+saving up for that particular moment. And so it came about that an
+unwonted silence reigned as the unsuspecting Dan drew forth a small
+flat parcel labelled: "A Merry Christmas from Polly."
+
+Within was their familiar bank-book, wrapped about with a less
+familiar sheet of note-paper bearing the following inscription:
+
+"An Idea! Namely, to wit: That Daniel Reddiman Fitch, Esq., lay aside
+his character of Mercury, and become a student at Colorado College!
+
+"P. S.--An examination of the within balance will assure the said Dan
+that there is nothing to prevent his thus delighting the heart of his
+faithful Polly."
+
+A glance at the balance recorded, a reperusal of the "idea," and the
+impressive silence was broken into a thousand fragments.
+
+"For you see, Dan," Polly explained, when, at last, she had secured a
+hearing, "I shouldn't know what in the world to do with so much
+money,--some rich people don't, they say,--and I've got plenty of
+ideas to last us for years to come. Then, just as they begin to give
+out, you'll have got to be a mining engineer, with your pockets
+cram-full of money, and you'll have to support me for the rest of my
+life. So I don't see but that I'm getting the best of the bargain,
+after all!"
+
+It all seemed perfectly natural to Dan. This sister of his had always
+lent a hand when he needed it. Of course he would accept her help, and
+let the future, the glorious, inexhaustible future straighten out the
+account between them. He did not express himself even in his inmost
+thoughts in any such high-flown manner as this. He simply gave an
+Indian war-whoop, administered to Polly a portentous hug, and declared
+for the hundredth time, "Polly, you _beat the world!_"
+
+When everything was thus amicably settled and Dan had agreed to "give
+notice" in his capacity as Mercury, the following day, Polly said:
+"You won't mind being poor, will you, Dan? You don't wish we were
+rich, do you?"
+
+"Rich? Why, we _are_ rich!"
+
+"But, Dan, if any one came along and offered you a lot of money, say a
+thousand dollars a year, you wouldn't take it, would you?"
+
+"Do you mean a stranger, Polly, some one we hadn't any claim on?"
+
+"Yes; but somebody who had such a lot he wouldn't miss it. Would you
+take it, Dan? Say, would you take it?"
+
+"What a goose you are, Polly! Of course I wouldn't take it! I would
+rather go back to the Augæans for the rest of my life!"
+
+On the evening of that momentous Christmas Day, our two young people
+had out their Latin books and began industriously to polish up their
+somewhat rusty acquirements in that classic tongue. A year ago they
+might not have regarded this as precisely a holiday pastime, but their
+ideas had undergone a great change since then.
+
+They sat at the little centre-table, the ruddy head and the black one
+close together in the lamp-light, reading their Cicero. A rap at the
+door seemed a rude interruption; yet so unusual was the excitement of
+an evening visitor that they could not be quite indifferent to the
+event,--the less so when the visitor proved to be Polly's client of
+the cumbrous income.
+
+"Good evening, Miss Polly," he called, from the door, and Polly
+fancied that his voice had a particularly cheerful ring in it. As he
+spoke, he glanced at Dan, who had opened the door.
+
+"This is my brother, Dan. Won't you come in, Mr. Clapp?"
+
+"With all the pleasure in the world, for I have come in the character
+of Santa Claus."
+
+"Have you indeed?" thought Polly to herself; "we'll see about that!"
+Perhaps there was something in her manner that betrayed her thoughts,
+for her visitor said, with evident amusement:
+
+"You take alarm too easily, Miss Polly. I should as soon think of
+offering a gift in my own name to,--to any other extremely rich young
+woman."
+
+"I was glad to hear that your brother's name was Dan," he continued
+with apparent irrelevance, as he took his seat. "And more delighted
+still when I found out his middle name. Didn't it strike you," he
+asked, turning abruptly to Dan, "that your employer, Mr. Jones, was
+developing rather a sudden interest in your antecedents?"
+
+"Yes," Polly thought, "he is pleased about something."
+
+"Why, yes," Dan answered, with boyish bluntness. "But what do you know
+about it?"
+
+"Only that it was I that put Jones up to making his inquiries."
+
+"You?" Dan looked half inclined to resent the liberty. But Polly saw
+that there was something coming.
+
+"Would you mind telling us what it's all about?" she asked. "You look
+as if you knew something nice."
+
+"I do; it's one of the nicest things I ever knew in my life. I didn't
+tell you the other day, did I, that I had made most of my money in
+mines?"
+
+"No," said Polly, wondering why he should want to tell them how he
+made "his old money."
+
+"Well, that is the case; nearly all in one mine, too. It's a great
+placer mine up north. I don't suppose you know much about placer
+mines?"
+
+Polly, disclaiming such knowledge, tried to look politely interested,
+while Dan's interest, fortunately for his manners, was very genuine.
+Was he not to be a mining engineer, and did he not want to learn all
+he could?
+
+"Well," Mr. Clapp went on, "a placer mine is one where the gold lies
+embedded in the soil and has to be washed out, and if there doesn't
+happen to be running water near by it costs an awful lot to bring it
+in."
+
+"Yes," said the polite Polly, with a vision of a fire-brigade running
+about with buckets in their hands, as they used to do in Fieldham.
+
+"What they call hydraulic mining," Dan put in.
+
+"Yes, that's it. Big ditches to be dug, and all that sort of thing.
+Well, this 'Big Bonus Mine' was discovered twenty years ago. A company
+was started and the stock was put on the market at a dollar a share.
+The management made a mess of it, as a management usually does, and it
+fizzled out. It was believed that the thing was chock-full of gold,
+but they couldn't get it out."
+
+Polly was beginning to be interested; she usually did find things
+interesting when she gave her mind to them.
+
+"Well, what did they do?" asked Dan.
+
+"They gave it up for a bad job, and tried to forget all the money they
+had put into it."
+
+"Then where did your money come from?"
+
+"Out of the 'Big Bonus Placer Gold Mine!' We scoop it right out
+to-day."
+
+"I wish you'd go ahead!" said Dan, for the guest had paused, and was
+examining the _Cicero_.
+
+"Well, hydraulic mining improves, like every thing else, and three
+years ago a new company was formed. Luckily the old company had not
+gone into debt; perhaps they could not borrow money on their elephant.
+However that may be, they agreed to put half their stock back into the
+treasury, and it was sold at fifty cents a share, which gave us money
+to work with."
+
+"And it was a howling success!" cried Dan. "I remember; I've heard all
+about it."
+
+"Yes, we've paid out two dollars a share in dividends in the last six
+months, and the stock is held at fifteen or sixteen dollars a share
+to-day. The beauty of it is," Mr. Horace Clapp added, glancing quietly
+from Dan to Polly, "I am convinced that you are both stockholders."
+
+"We?" they cried in a breath.
+
+"Yes! For Jones tells me that your father was a doctor; that his name
+was Daniel Reddiman Fitch, and that he once lived in Bington, Ohio."
+
+"Yes," said Polly; "that was when he was first married; before old
+Doctor Royce died, and left an opening in Fieldham, so that Father
+came back home again."
+
+"The name of such a stockholder stands on our books, but we haven't
+heretofore been able to trace him."
+
+"That's why old Jones pumped me so," Dan remarked, giving his mind
+first to the more familiar aspects of the case.
+
+"What a pity he never knew!" said Polly, with glistening eyes. "He was
+always so poor."
+
+"Your father's original holdings were five thousand shares, so that
+you are the possessors of twenty-five hundred shares. If you sell it
+pretty soon, as I think you may as well do, you will have something
+over forty thousand dollars to invest; for there is, in addition to
+the stock, five thousand dollars in back dividends due you."
+
+Dan and Polly looked at each other almost aghast; but that was only
+for a moment.
+
+"Why, Dan, you can have a saddle-horse of your own!" cried Polly.
+
+"And so can you!"
+
+"And we can--O Mr. Clapp, how rude we are!"
+
+Mr. Clapp looked as if it were a kind of rudeness that he was enjoying
+very much. As he rose to go, he said:
+
+"Don't you think I'm a pretty good sort of a Santa Claus after all,
+Miss Polly?"
+
+Polly seized his outstretched hand.
+
+"I didn't believe any one person could be so rich, and so good, too!"
+she declared.
+
+"And, O Dan!" cried Polly, the minute they were alone together, "let's
+send a New-Year's box home. There'll be just time enough. We can get
+one of those great carriage rugs for Uncle Seth, and a China silk for
+Aunt Lucia."
+
+"And I'll send Cousin John's boys some Indian bows and arrows."
+
+"And Cousin Martha a dozen Chinese cups and saucers."
+
+"And the old Professor a meerschaum pipe."
+
+"And Miss Louisa Bailey, and dear Mrs. Dodge, and the Widow
+Criswell,--what _shall_ we send the Widow Criswell, Dan?"
+
+"Some black-bordered pocket-handkerchiefs!" cried the irreverent Dan.
+
+Before going to bed they stepped out on the porch to bid the Peak
+good-night.
+
+"Going to be a fine day to-morrow, Polly."
+
+"All the days are fine in Colorado," said Polly.
+
+"You forget the blizzard last month."
+
+"Oh, but it was _such a dear blizzard_ not to do you any harm when it
+caught you out!"
+
+Dan grew thoughtful.
+
+"Do you ever think, Polly, that we should never have come out here if
+it hadn't been for you?"
+
+"You know it was 'Pike's Peak or bust!' with both of us, Dan."
+
+Dan looked critically from the great Peak, gleaming there in the
+starlight, to Polly's uplifted face, and then, as they turned to go
+in, he exclaimed, for the hundred-and-first time:
+
+"Polly, _you beat the world!_"
+
+
+
+
+NANNIE'S THEATRE PARTY
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+NANNIE'S THEATRE PARTY
+
+
+"Yes, my dear, I went to the the_ett_er myself once when I was quite a
+girl, younger 'n you be, I guess. 'Twas Uncle 'Bijah Lane that took
+me, 'n' he was so upsot by their hevin' a fun'ral all acted out on the
+stage, that he come home and told Ma 'twa'n't no fit place for young
+girls to go to, 'n' I ain't never ben inside a the_ett_er sence. Doos
+seem good to see play-actin' agin after all these years, I declare it
+doos!"--and Miss Becky took up her sewing, which she had laid down in
+a moment of enthusiasm.
+
+"If you liked it half as well as I like to do it, Miss Becky, you'd
+like it even better than you do now," replied Lady Macbeth, with a
+cheerful gusto, somewhat at odds with her tragic character.
+
+Nannie Ray, herself still very new to the delights of theatre-going,
+had recently seen a great actress play Lady Macbeth, and, fired with
+the spirit of emulation, she had been enacting the sleep-walking scene
+for the benefit of her country neighbour. Miss Becky Crawlin lived
+only half a mile down the road from the old Ray homestead, where the
+family were in the habit of spending six months of the year. She and
+Nannie had always been great cronies, Miss Becky finding a perennial
+delight in "that child's goin's on."
+
+The "child" meanwhile had come to be sixteen years old, but no one
+would have given her credit for such dignity who had seen the
+incongruous little figure perched upon the slippery haircloth sofa,
+twinkling with delight at Miss Becky's encomiums. She wore a
+voluminous nightgown, from under the hem of which a pink gingham
+ruffle insisted upon poking itself out; her long black hair hung over
+her shoulders in sufficiently tragic strands; her cheeks, liberally
+powdered with flour, gleamed treacherously pink through a chance
+break in their highly artificial pallor, while portentous brows of
+burnt cork did their best to make terrible a pair of very girlish and
+innocent eyes. A touch of realism which the original Lady Macbeth
+lacked was given by a streak of red crayon which lent a murderous
+significance to the small brown hand.
+
+"I declare!" her admiring auditor went on, stitching away to make up
+for lost time, "I can't see but you do's well's the lady I saw--only
+she was dressed prettier, and went round with a wreath on her head. A
+wreath's always so becomin'! We used to wear 'em May Day, when I was a
+girl. They was made o' paper flowers, all colours, so's you could suit
+your complexion, and when it didn't rain I must say we looked reel
+nice. 'Twas surprisin', though, how quick a few drops o' rain would
+wilt one o' them paper wreaths right down so's you could scurcely tell
+what 'twas meant for."
+
+"Tell me some more about the girl with the wreath, Miss Becky," said
+Lady Macbeth, longing to curl herself up in a corner, but too mindful
+of her tragic dignity to unbend.
+
+"Well, she looked reel pretty, but she didn't hev _sperit_ enough to
+suit my idees. She was kind o' lackadaisical and namby-pamby, 'n' when
+her young man sarsed her she didn't seem to hev nothin' to say for
+herself. I must say 'twas a heathenish kind of a play anyway, 'n' I
+ain't surprised that Uncle 'Bijah got sot agin it. The language wa'n't
+sech as I'd ben brought up to, either."
+
+Lady Macbeth had leaned forward and was clasping her knees, thus
+unconsciously widening the expanse of pink gingham visible beneath the
+white robe. She was glad she had modified her Shakespeare to suit her
+listener, though "Out, _dreadful_ spot!" was not nearly as
+bloodcurdling as the original.
+
+Miss Becky, meanwhile, had not paused in her narration.
+
+"There was a long-winded young man," she was saying, "him that sarsed
+his girl, 'n' he went slashin' round, killin' folks off in a kind of
+an aimless way, an'----"
+
+"It must have been _Hamlet_ that you saw!" cried Nannie, much excited.
+"Oh, I do so want to see _Hamlet_!"
+
+"Yes, _Hamlet_; that was it. And then there was a ghost in it that
+sent the shivers down my back; 'n' a king 'n' queen; 'n' the king
+looked for all the world like Deacon Ember, Jenny Lowe's grandpa, that
+died before you was born; 'n' I declare, I _did_ enjoy it! 'Twas jest
+like bein' alive in history times! Why, I ain't had sech shivers down
+my spine's the ghost give me, sence that day, till I seen you standin'
+there tryin' to wash your hands without any water, 'n' your eyes
+rollin' fit to scare the cat!"
+
+"Would you like to have me do it again for you, Miss Becky?" asked
+Nan, springing to her feet with renewed ardour. And straightway she
+stationed herself at the end of the little room and began propelling
+herself forward with occasional erratic halts.
+
+The September sunshine came slanting through the tiny panes of glass
+at the window, and touched with impartial grace the youthful figure
+of distracted mien, the worsted tidies on the haircloth sofa, and the
+neat alpaca occupant of the stuffed "rocker." Again the sewing was
+forgotten, and Miss Becky's glittering spectacles were fixed upon the
+tragic queen. As the queer little figure stalked solemnly down the
+room, eyes fixed in a glassy stare, hands wringing one another
+distressfully; as a moving wail rent the air, to the effect that "all
+the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand," a most
+agreeable succession of shivers made a highway of Miss Becky's spine.
+
+"Why don't you ever go to the theatre now, Miss Becky?" Nannie asked,
+when, having laid aside her tragic toggery, she came in her own person
+to take her leave. "I should think you'd like to go again."
+
+"Oh, yes, I should be reel tickled to go again, but I ain't got nobody
+to go with, and, well--there's other reasons besides."
+
+[Illustration: "All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little
+hand."]
+
+Nannie blushed to think how inconsiderate she had been to force her
+old friend to allude, even indirectly, to her poverty, and she walked
+up the dusty road to her own gate, filled with compunction. Just
+outside the gate was a little wilderness of goldenrod and asters. She
+thought what a pity it was they should get so gray with dust. Poor
+things, they could not help it; they had to stay where chance had
+planted them unless somebody picked them and carried them away, and
+even then they left their roots behind them. Somehow they made her
+think of Miss Becky, living her little narrow, stationary life all
+alone in the old tumble-down farmhouse. And just at this point in her
+reflections a delightful scheme came into her head.
+
+Now, Nannie was the recipient of a slender monthly allowance intended
+for gloves and ruchings, postage stamps, and the like, and, having
+spent the last four months far from the allurements of city shops, she
+happened at this juncture to be in funds. Her stock of gloves, to be
+sure, was pretty well exhausted, and Christmas was only a few months
+away. But Miss Becky was nearer still, and Nannie had no hesitation
+between the two claims. As a natural consequence it happened that,
+one pleasant day early in October, Miss Becky, in her best black
+bonnet, found herself steaming up to Boston, about to do Nannie "a
+real favour" by chaperoning her to the theatre. Miss Becky was so much
+impressed by the gravity of her responsibility that she hardly took in
+the fact that she was going to the theatre herself!
+
+They were to see _The Shaughraun_--a play which her best friend had
+assured Nannie was "just great"; and as the train rushed up to town
+the young hostess was at a loss to decide whether she was happier on
+her own account or on Miss Becky's. To be sure, she was just a little
+disappointed about Miss Becky, who seemed curiously silent and stiff;
+and when they came out of the station and walked up the crowded city
+street, the old lady held her by the sleeve and looked bewildered and
+frightened.
+
+"How long is it since you've been in Boston?" Nannie asked, looking up
+into the anxious old face framed in the black silk bonnet which
+looked twice as old-fashioned as ever before.
+
+"Not sence Sophia was married 'n' we came up to select her weddin'
+gownd. I was quite a girl then, an' I guess I felt more at home in a
+crowd than I do now. We don't often hev much of a crowd out our way."
+
+They were among the first to take their seats at the theatre. Mr. Ray
+had got places for them only three rows back from the stage, and, once
+established there, Nannie felt that they were in a safe haven, where
+her guest could grow calm and responsive again.
+
+At first Miss Becky was almost too overawed to speak, but after a
+while she got the better of the situation and began telling Nannie all
+about Sophia and her "true-so," and how they got lost on their way to
+the station and almost missed their train, which was the only train
+"out" in old times.
+
+"I do hope we sha'n't miss our train to-night, my dear! It doos seem's
+though we might 'f they don't begin pretty soon," and the old
+lady--for a very old lady she seemed to have become all of a
+sudden--fidgeted in her chair, and looked over her shoulder to see if
+the seats were not filling up.
+
+"We sha'n't lose our train, Miss Becky," Nannie assured her. "You know
+it doesn't go until half-past five o'clock, and the play is always
+over before five. And even if we did miss it we could take the
+seven-fifteen."
+
+"Oh, dear, no! I sh'd feel reel bad to miss the train. Why, it gits
+dark by six o'clock, 'n' 'twouldn't be safe for us to be goin' round
+the city streets after dark. We might git garroted or, or--_spoken
+to!_ Dear me! I _wish_ they would begin!"
+
+"If it gets late, Miss Becky, we won't wait for the end of the play,"
+said Nannie, while a very distinct pang seized her at thought of
+missing anything.
+
+"I think that _would_ be better!" Miss Becky cried, with evident
+relief. "Don't you think it might be better to go out a little early,
+anyway? They'll be such a crowd when everybody tries to go out to
+once that we might git delayed. _My!_ what a sight of people there is
+already! And up in the galleries, too! Ain't you 'most afeared to stay
+in sech a crowd?"
+
+"Oh, no, Miss Becky. It's just like this always, and nothing ever
+happens."
+
+"Them galleries don't look strong enough to hold many people. Why,
+Nannie, see! They ain't any _pillows_ under 'em! What do you suppose
+keeps 'em up?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure; but they're safe enough."
+
+At this point the orchestra struck up a popular tune and silence fell
+upon Miss Becky. She sat, stiff and severe, gazing straight before
+her, and when Nannie ventured to make a remark she received only a
+reproving look in reply.
+
+How strange it was, Nannie thought! She had meant to give Miss Becky
+such a treat, and here sat her guest, looking anxious and
+distressed--yes, more anxious and distressed than she looked a year
+ago when her cow died. But then the play had not begun yet, Nannie
+reflected, with a gleam of hope. When the play had once begun, Miss
+Becky would forget all her worries and be as "tickled" as she had
+counted on her being. And when once the curtain had gone up, Nannie at
+least had no more misgivings. Her fancy was instantly taken captive,
+first by the charming young officer and his pretty Irish sweetheart,
+then by the fine old priest, then by Con himself,--dear, droll,
+happy-go-lucky Con, with his picturesque foibles, his bubbling humour,
+and his phenomenal virtues. From the moment of his entry, with
+"Tatters" just not at his heels, Nannie was all smiles and tears.
+
+Miss Becky, meanwhile, sat erect as a ramrod, a look of perplexity
+screwing her wrinkles all out of shape. Her bonnet had got somewhat
+askew from her constant effort to keep an eye on those unsupported
+galleries, and there was a general air of discomfort about her, which
+was the first thing that struck Nannie when, as the curtain fell upon
+the first act, she turned to look at her.
+
+"Aren't you enjoying it, Miss Becky?" she asked, with quick anxiety.
+
+"Oh, yes, I'm hevin' a reel pleasant time. 'T ain't through yet, is
+it?"
+
+"Why, no; it's only just begun. There's lots more! May Colby says that
+Con gets them all out of all their troubles and almost gets killed
+himself!"
+
+"I sh'd think 't would take a long time. Are you sure 't ain't most
+five o'clock?"
+
+"Oh, no; it's only three. See! And my watch is fast, too. Wasn't it
+funny about the letter?"
+
+"Well, I didn't quite understand about that. What made 'em laugh so?"
+
+"Why, that was because he couldn't read, and so he had to make it all
+up out of his head."
+
+"Well!" declared Miss Becky, with strong disapproval, "I don't think
+he'd ought to hev deceived his mother that way; do you?"
+
+This was a poser; but at that moment the orchestra came to the rescue
+with a new tune, and Nannie was spared the necessity of replying.
+
+After that the play became every moment more exciting and the central
+figure more entirely captivating, and even between the acts Nannie
+was preoccupied and unobservant. They had got to the prison scene,
+with all its ingenious intricacies of plot and stage machinery; Con
+had accomplished the rescue, and was scrambling over the rocks, when
+suddenly the sharp report of a rifle rang out, followed by another,
+and then another, in quick succession.
+
+Instantly Nannie felt her arm clutched, and she heard Miss Becky
+saying: "You must come right away, this very minute!"
+
+"Oh, please not, Miss Becky," she implored.
+
+But there was a resolute gleam in Miss Becky's eye.
+
+"Come right along, child," she whispered, hoarsely, "come right along
+with me!"--and poor Nannie, to her consternation and chagrin, found
+herself absolutely obliged to follow.
+
+The whole row of people stood up to let them pass, and every kind of
+look--glances of amusement and curiosity, of annoyance and of
+sympathy--followed the oddly assorted pair, as they made their way
+out of the slip and then up the aisle.
+
+Once outside the door, the tension of Miss Becky's face relaxed, but
+she did not waver in her determination.
+
+"There, child!" she cried, as they walked down the slight incline of
+the long passageway to the street. "There! I am glad I had strength
+given me to do my duty by you!"
+
+"But, Miss Becky, there wasn't a bit of danger," Nannie protested,
+bravely keeping the tears back in her cruel disappointment. "Really,
+there wasn't. Won't you _please_ go back with me, and just stand
+inside the door and see the end of it? I'm sure they'd let us stand
+inside the door."
+
+"Nannie Ray," Miss Becky replied, looking very fiercely at the girl's
+flushed cheeks and imploring eyes, "if you knew as much about firearms
+as I do, you wouldn't ask such a thing. But there! It's jest because
+you're young and inexperienced that your ma wanted me to come and look
+after you. I guess she'll be thankful she was so foresighted when she
+hears of the danger you was in."
+
+In her exultation and relief of mind, Miss Becky marched on,
+regardless of jostling crowds and thronging teams. Her whole attitude
+had changed. She was no longer the timid, shrinking old woman; she was
+the responsible guardian, aware of the importance of her charge, and
+nothing was ever to convince her that she had not as good as saved
+Nannie's life on that occasion.
+
+Then Nannie, as became a hostess, accepted the situation with the best
+grace in the world.
+
+"I tell you what let's do, Miss Becky," she said. "Let's go and get
+some ice-cream. That is, if you like it."
+
+The stern old face relaxed.
+
+"Oh, yes; I like ice-cream, especially vanilla. But--do you think
+we've got time enough?"
+
+"We've got an hour and a quarter before the train goes. Let's come in
+here and get it."
+
+From the crowded street they passed in at the doorway and walked
+between marble counters to what seemed to Miss Becky a scene in
+fairyland. Ascending two or three broad steps, on each side of which
+an antlered stag kept guard, they stepped upon a great carpeted space,
+lighted from above,--a space in the middle of which was a fountain,
+springing high into the air, and splashing back into a round basin
+lined with shining shells and pebbles, over and among which goldfish
+swam and dove like animated jewels. Ferns and palms grew all about the
+basin, and in among the greenery was a little table where Nannie and
+her guest sat hidden safe away from the world.
+
+"Well, this doos beat all!" the old lady exclaimed, gazing at the
+fountain with an expression of rapt delight--just the expression that
+Nannie had counted upon seeing among the wrinkles.
+
+"Do you like it?" she asked, all her disappointment and chagrin
+forgotten.
+
+"Like it? Why, it's the most tasty place I was ever in! It's better
+than any play; it's like bein' in a play yourself! Jest see them
+pillows supportin' that gallery! 'N' them picters of tropical fruits!
+'N' this ice-cream! Why, it's different from what we hev at the
+Sunday-school picnics! 'Pears to me it's more creamy!"
+
+Now, at last, Miss Becky had lost all thought of the passage of time.
+She took her ice-cream, just a little at a time, off the tip-end of
+her spoon, and with every mouthful the look of content grew deeper.
+One of the little cakes that were served with the ice-cream was a
+macaroon with a sugar swan upon it--"a reel little statoo of a swan,"
+Miss Becky called it. She could not be persuaded to eat it, but she
+studied it with such undisguised admiration that Nannie ventured to
+suggest that she take it home with her. Again Miss Becky was
+enchanted. She wrapped it in her pocket-handkerchief, and placed it
+carefully in her reticule, whence it was to emerge only to enter upon
+a long and admired career as a parlour ornament.
+
+"And now, Miss Becky," Nannie queried, as they sat there embowered in
+palms and ferns, listening to the plash of the fountain, "didn't you
+enjoy the play at all?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Miss Becky, "I had a very pleasant time before they
+got so reckless with their guns. But--I wonder whether they take sech
+pains with the the-etter's they used to? Why, when I went with Uncle
+'Bijah Lane that time, they all wore the most beautiful clothes. Even
+the men was dressed out in velvets and satins, and they wa'n't anybody
+on the stage that didn't make a good appearance."
+
+"But, you know, this was a different sort of play, Miss Becky. The
+folks in _The Shaughraun_ weren't kings and queens, but just every-day
+people."
+
+"Well, s'posin' they was! I don't see no excuse for that man Con goin'
+round lookin' so slack. I sh'd think he might at least git a whole
+coat to wear when he 'pears before the public!"
+
+"I'm afraid you're sorry you came," said Nannie, very meekly, feeling
+quite ashamed of her poor little party.
+
+"Oh, no, I ain't! Why, child, I'd hev come _barefoot_ to see this
+place here, with the founting a-splashin' and the fishes a-gleamin'!
+_Barefoot_, I tell ye!"
+
+It was a forcible expression, yet Nannie was not quite reassured. She
+still demurred.
+
+"But the play was the principal thing, you know."
+
+"The play? Well, I don't know," said Miss Becky, thoughtfully. "I
+don't know's I'm so terrible sot on the the_ett_er's I thought for.
+I'd a good deal ruther hev you come over 'n do that sleep-walkin'
+piece for me. I don't want nothin' better'n that. 'F I can see you act
+that once in a while, 'n' hev this here Garding of Eden to think
+about,--a founting playin' right in the house, 'n' all,--I ain't
+likely to want for amusement."
+
+The best bonnet was still very much askew, but the pleasant old face
+within, whose wrinkles had resumed their accustomed grooves, was
+irradiated with a look of unmistakable beatitude; and somehow it was
+borne in upon Nannie that her theatre party had been a success after
+all.
+
+
+
+
+OLIVIA'S SUN-DIAL
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+OLIVIA'S SUN-DIAL
+
+
+"It's all we need to make it the prettiest garden in Dunbridge."
+
+"Hm! And why must we have the prettiest garden in Dunbridge?"
+
+"Why shouldn't we?"
+
+Here was a deadlock--a thing quite shockingly out of place in a
+garden, and one's own particular garden at that!
+
+Olivia Page could make almost anything grow, as she had abundantly
+proved, but even her garden-craft could hardly suffice for the setting
+of a sun-dial on a pedestal of snow-white marble over there where the
+four triangular rose-beds converged to a circle, and where the south
+sun would play on it all day long.
+
+For a year Olivia had dreamed of this, and, since she was not a
+churlishly reticent young person, it was not the first intimation her
+father had received of her desire. Not until to-day, however, had she
+asked outright for what she wanted.
+
+"I wish you would say something more," she remarked, glancing sidewise
+at the professor's deeply corrugated countenance, which, for all their
+intimacy, was sometimes difficult to decipher. She had heard of girls
+who could twist their parents round their fingers; she wondered how
+they did it.
+
+The two were sitting on the white half-circle of a bench that stood at
+the west boundary of the old tennis-court, just where one end of the
+net used to be staked up. Excepting for that break, three sides of the
+garden were fenced in by the high wire screen originally designed to
+keep the tennis balls within bounds, and now doing duty as a trellis
+over which a luxuriant woodbine clambered, waving its reddening
+tendrils in the light September breeze. Wide flowerbeds bordered the
+entire court, the central turf being broken only by the cluster of
+rose-beds at the further end. From the white bench one looked across
+the grass to a broad flight of veranda steps, flanked on the right by
+a mass of white boltonia, while on the left a superb growth of New
+England asters reared their sturdy heads.
+
+The garden had been a great success this year, quite the admiration of
+the neighbourhood. Really, Papa must be proud of it, and it was all
+Olivia's doing. Who would ever guess that it had had its modest
+beginnings in half a dozen tin cracker-boxes with holes bored in the
+bottoms, where, in March, two years ago, she had planted queer little
+brown seeds as hard as pebbles, which Nature had straightway taken in
+hand, softening and expanding them down there in the dark, till they
+came alive, and began feeling their way up to meet the sun. Ah, the
+bliss of seeing those first tiny shoots turn into stems and leaflets,
+ready to play their part in the great spring awakening! Would Olivia
+ever love any flowers quite as she had loved those first seedlings,
+especially a certain pentstemon, which blossomed "white with purple
+spots," exactly as the seed-catalogue had promised?
+
+Yes, the garden was a great success, and just now it was at one of its
+prettiest moments, gay with autumn colours; the rudbeckia in its
+glory, and the great pink blossoms of the hibiscus spreading their
+skirts for all the world like ladies in an old-time minuet, while over
+yonder the soldier spikes of the flame-flower threatened to set the
+woodbine afire. Olivia loved the Latin names, but somehow "tritonia"
+did not seem to express those spikes of burning colour. And the roses!
+How lovely those late hybrids were! Why, the way that Margaret Dickson
+drooped her head above the pansies, still blooming freely at her feet,
+was enough to melt the heart of a Salem gibraltar! A pity that the
+professor's attention seemed for the moment to be riveted upon the toe
+of his boot!
+
+"I wish you would say something more," Olivia repeated.
+
+"Something different, you mean," and Doctor Page smiled, benignly and
+stubbornly.
+
+"For instance, you might tell me why you are opposed to it."
+
+"You wouldn't understand."
+
+"I might; you said, only the other day, that I sometimes displayed
+almost human intelligence!"
+
+The professor liked to have his jokes remembered; but still he seemed
+inclined to temporise.
+
+"I might say that we couldn't afford it. It is generally conceded that
+Alma Mater is not a munificent provider."
+
+"Yes; and you might say that my great-grandfather was not an East
+India trader--only you don't tell fibs."
+
+"Or that a sun-dial is an anachronism."
+
+"You are too good a Latin scholar for that."
+
+"So a subterfuge won't do? Very well; then you'll have to put up with
+a psychological proposition."
+
+"How interesting!"
+
+The professor glanced at the expectant young face turned toward him,
+and he could not but admit that his estimate of its owner's
+intelligence had been well within the truth.
+
+"You think a sun-dial would make it the prettiest garden in
+Dunbridge?"
+
+"I'm sure it would."
+
+"And that is what you are aiming at?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Now, I have noticed that when you have got what you are aiming at you
+lose interest in it."
+
+"O Papa!"
+
+"There was tennis," he went on, marking off the list on a combative
+forefinger, "and cookery; there was the Polyglot Club, and the
+Sketching Club, and----"
+
+"But, Papa! They were every one of them good things, and I got a lot
+out of them; truly, I did."
+
+"No doubt; but as soon as you could play tennis, or sketch a pine
+tree, or toss an omelette a little better than the other girls, you
+had squeezed your orange dry."
+
+"But, Papa! I've stuck to gardening for more than two years!" Olivia's
+tone seemed to give those years the dignity of centuries.
+
+"True; but you haven't got your sun-dial. You will consider that the
+finishing touch, and then before we know it you will be wanting to
+turn the whole thing into a sand-garden for the little micks at the
+Corners."
+
+"Not such a bad idea," Olivia admitted unguardedly.
+
+"There you are! The mere mention of a new scheme is enough to set you
+agog!"
+
+But this was not their first fencing match, and Olivia had learned to
+parry.
+
+"I thought you believed in people being open-minded," she ventured
+demurely.
+
+"And so I do; but not so open-minded that for every new idea that
+comes in an old one goes out."
+
+"Oh, the sun-dial hasn't got away yet," she laughed, springing to her
+feet and going over to the court-end of the garden, where she placed
+herself in the exact centre of the converging rose-beds.
+
+"There!" she cried; "don't you see how my white gown lights up the
+whole place? It's just the high light that it needs."
+
+And so it was: a fact of which no one was better aware than the
+professor. As he, too, rose and sauntered toward the house he could
+not deny that Olivia's ideas were usually good. The only trouble was
+that she had too many of them; and here was the kernel of truth that
+gave substance to his whimsical argument. The beauty of the garden was
+not lost upon him, nor yet the skill and industry of the young
+gardener. But more important than either was the advantage to the
+girl's health. Olivia was sound as a nut; of course she was! There
+could be no doubt of that. But--so had her mother seemed, until that
+fatal winter ten years ago. He did not fear for Olivia; why should he?
+Only--well, this out-of-door life was a capital thing for anybody. No,
+he could not have her tire of her garden.
+
+At the foot of the veranda steps Dr. Page paused and glanced again at
+his daughter. She had left the rose-beds and was already intent upon
+her work, pulling seeds from the hollyhocks over yonder. She made a
+pretty picture in her white gown, standing shoulder-high among the
+brown stalks, her slender fingers deftly gleaning from such as showed
+no rust. The child was really very persistent about her gardening; she
+had fairly earned an indulgence. Perhaps, after all, she might be
+trusted. He moved a few steps toward her.
+
+"Olivia," he said,--and the first word betrayed his relenting,--"Olivia,
+your sun-dial scheme is not such a bad idea. I should rather like that
+white-petticoat effect myself. Supposing we say that if between now and
+next June you don't think of anything you want more, we'll have it."
+
+"Oh, you blessèd angel! What could I want more?"
+
+"Time will show," the blessèd angel replied, retracing his steps
+toward the house--unaided by angelic wings!
+
+"Yes," Olivia called confidently. "It's the sun-dial that time will
+show, and afterward--why, the sun-dial will show the time!"--and
+although he made no sign, she knew there were little puckers of
+amused approval about her father's mouth.
+
+As if she could ever want anything more than a sun-dial! she thought,
+while she passed along the borders, harvesting her little crop. She
+had finished with the hollyhocks, and now she was bending over a bed
+of withered columbines. And there were the foxglove seeds still
+clinging. Really, it was almost impossible to keep up. How brilliant
+the salvia was to-day, and what a brave second blossoming that was of
+the delphinium, its knightly spurs, metallic blue, gleaming in the
+sun!
+
+"No," she declared to herself, "there will never be anything so much
+worth while as the garden. Why, of course there won't; because Nature
+is the best thing in the world--the very best."
+
+"Plase, ma'am, will ye gimme a bowkay?"
+
+Olivia turned, startled by a voice so near at hand, for she had heard
+no footfall on the thick turf. There, in the centre of the grass-grown
+space, stood two comical little midgets, their smutty yet cherubic
+faces blooming brightly above garments highly coloured and earthy,
+too, as the autumn garden-beds.
+
+[Illustration: "Please ma'am, will ye gimme a bowkay?"]
+
+"Dear me!" Olivia laughed, "how things do sprout in a garden! Did you
+come right up out of the ground?"
+
+"Plase, ma'am, a bowkay! Me mudder's sick an' me fader's goned away."
+
+The speaker, a boy of five, stood holding by the hand something in the
+way of a sister, about two sizes smaller. At Olivia's little joke,
+which they did not in the least understand, they had both grinned
+sympathetically, showing rows of diminutive teeth as white and even as
+snow-berries.
+
+"Bless your little hearts, of course you shall have a bouquet! Come
+and choose one,"--and taking a hand of each Olivia led them slowly
+along the brilliant borders.
+
+They were a bit shy at first, but they soon picked up their courage,
+and Patsy fell to accumulating a mass of incongruous blossoms whose
+colours fought each other tooth and nail. Little Biddy, more modest,
+as beseemed her inferior rank in the scale of being, fixed her heart
+upon a single flame-flower which absolutely refused to reconcile
+itself with the ingenuous pink of her calico frock.
+
+"How long has your mother been ill?" Olivia asked of the boy, who by
+this time was quite hidden behind a perfect forest of asters and
+larkspur and lobelia cardinalis.
+
+"Me mudder's always sick. She coughs an' coughs, and den she lays on
+de bed long whiles."
+
+"And she likes flowers?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am; me an' Biddy picked a bowkay outen a ashba'l oncet, an'
+me mudder sticked it in a tumbler an' loved it. Come, Biddy, make de
+lady a bow!" Upon which the small Chesterfield stood off a few steps
+and gave an absurd little bob of a bow which Biddy gravely endeavoured
+to imitate.
+
+"I think I'll go with you," said Olivia, open-minded as ever to a new
+interest; and hand in hand and chattering amicably, the three moved
+across the turf and down the long gravel walk to the dusty street.
+Surprising how short the distance was between the sweet seclusion of
+the old tennis-court and the squalid quarter where these little human
+blossoms grew!
+
+Olivia was thinking of that as she stood on the veranda an hour later,
+looking down upon the flowery kingdom to which all her interest and
+ambition had been pledged. Yes, it was lovely, lovely in the long
+afternoon light, and it would have been lovelier still with the
+gleaming marble she had dreamed of. She really tried to keep her mind
+upon it, to forget the little drama over there in the stuffy tenement.
+But no; she was too good a gardener for that. Was not a whole family
+broken and wilting for lack of means to transplant it?
+
+The doctor had ordered Mrs. O'Trannon to Colorado, and Mike had
+dropped his work as "finisher"--whatever that might be--and had gone
+out to prepare the way for the others to follow. He had found no
+chance to work at his trade, but he had got a job on a ranch, where
+the pay was small, but the living good. A fine place it would be for
+the invalid and the children, when once he could get together the
+money to send for them. But meanwhile here they were, and the winter
+coming on.
+
+As Olivia stood looking down upon her beloved garden, she could not
+seem to see anything but brown stalks and dead blossoms. All that
+lavish colour looked fictitious and transitory; she had somehow lost
+faith in it.
+
+Mrs. O'Trannon had been pleased with the flowers; she had grown up on
+a farm, she said. Sure she never'd ha' got sick at all if she'd ha'
+stayed where she belonged. But then, where would Mike have been, and
+the babies? And where would Mike be, and the babies, Olivia thought
+with a pang,--where would they be if the mother wilted and died? She
+turned, suddenly, and passed in at the glass doors and on to her
+father's study.
+
+At sight of the kind, quizzical face lifted at her entrance, Olivia
+winced a bit. About an hour and a half it must be, since he said it,
+and he had given her a year! As if that made any difference! she told
+herself, with a little defiant movement of the chin, as she crossed
+the room and seated herself at the opposite side of the big
+writing-table where she could face the music handsomely.
+
+"Well, Olivia; changed your mind yet?" the professor inquired, struck,
+perhaps, by the resolution of her aspect.
+
+"Yes," she answered, in an impressive tone, "I've thought of something
+I should prefer to a sun-dial."
+
+Dr. Page took off his glasses and laid them upon his open book. He did
+not really imagine that she was serious--such a turn-about-face was
+too precipitate even for Olivia; but it pleased him to meet her on her
+own ground.
+
+"And what is it this time? A sixty-inch telescope? Or a diamond
+tiara?"
+
+"Well, no. Those are things I had not thought of--before! It's a kind
+of gardening project--a little matter of transplanting."
+
+"Will it cost a hundred and fifty dollars?"
+
+"About that, I should think, to do it properly and comfortably.
+And--it can't wait till June. It's the kind of transplanting that has
+to be done in the autumn."
+
+Then, dropping the little fiction, and resting her chin upon her
+folded hands, the better to transfix her father's mocking
+countenance,--"Papa," she said, "there's a poor family down at the
+Corners,--our neighbours, you know,--and the mother is dying for want
+of transplanting, just like the beautiful hydrangea--you
+remember?--that I didn't understand about till it was too late. I
+never knew what too late meant, till I saw that splendid great bush
+lying stone-dead on the ground when we came home from the Adirondacks
+last year. A great healthy hydrangea dying just for lack of the right
+kind of soil! And now, here is this good human woman, that might live
+out her life and bring up her little family, and be happy and useful
+for years to come. Such a nice woman she must be to name her babies
+Patsy and Biddy, when she might have called them Algernon and
+Celestina, you know, and just spoiled it all!--and such a nice, kind
+husband to take care of her on a big ranch where there's good air,
+and lots to eat, and plenty of work and not too much, and--why Papa!
+they might have a garden out there! who knows? What a thing that would
+be for the prairie! A real New England garden!"
+
+"With a sun-dial?" the professor interposed.
+
+For an instant Olivia's face fell, but only for an instant.
+
+"I've been thinking," she said, with a very convincing seriousness,
+"that perhaps a sun-dial is not so important, after all. At any rate
+it's not so important as the mother of a family; now, is it, Papa?"
+
+"That depends upon the point of view," the professor opined. "As a
+high light among the rose-bushes I should be constrained to give my
+vote for the sun-dial."
+
+Olivia sprang to her feet.
+
+"That means that you are coming straight over with me to see Mrs.
+O'Trannon," she cried, "and that you are going to have the whole
+family packed off to Colorado quicker'n a wink! Come along, please!
+There's plenty of time before dinner!"
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+"It's just another of Nature's miracles!" Olivia observed, as she and
+her father stood one morning in late October watching the workmen pack
+the sods about the beautiful pedestal, now securely planted upon its
+base of cement and broken stone. "It always makes me think of the
+wonderful things that came up in those tin cracker-boxes you used to
+make such fun of. There really doesn't seem to be any place too
+unlikely for Nature to set things going in."
+
+The marble was but roughly hewn, in lines that held the suggestion of
+an hourglass. The top only was smoothly finished, while here and there
+on the curving sides the hint of a leaf, a blossom, a trailing vine,
+came and went with the point of view, like cloud-pictures or the
+pencillings of Jack Frost. It was as if a 'prentice-hand had tried to
+express the soul of an artist, too self-distrustful to work more
+boldly.
+
+"Funny, how things come into your head," Olivia went on. "Do you know,
+Papa, that day when I was helping Mrs. O'Trannon with her preposterous
+packing and suddenly came upon this miracle hidden away under an old
+bedquilt, the only thing I could think of was the way my first
+pentstemons came out, 'white with purple spots,' exactly as I had
+chosen them by the seed-catalogue. And to think that she had bought it
+for a dollar of that poor stone-cutter's widow that was moving
+out--bought it to make pastry on because the top was smooth and cold!
+And then had never had time to make but one pie in the three years! I
+wish you could have heard her tell about it. 'Faith, it cost me a
+dollar, me one pie did, an' Mike says it's lucky it was that I didn't
+make a dozen whin they come so high! Silly b'y, that Mike!' O Papa,
+isn't it heavenly that they're together again?"
+
+"So you think there is nothing Nature can't do?" Dr. Page mused, with
+apparent irrelevance. "How about the sun-dial itself?"
+
+"Oh, Nature will attend to that, too."
+
+"She will, will she? And in what particular tin cracker-box should you
+look for it to come up?"
+
+"It wouldn't be polite to say," Olivia declared, looking with
+unmistakable significance straight into her father's face.
+
+"Saucebox!" he chuckled.
+
+And when, in early June, the brass disk of the sun-dial had begun its
+record of happy hours, and still Olivia toiled with unabated zeal at
+her garden, the rose of health blooming ever brighter in her face, a
+great sense of satisfaction and approval took possession of her
+father's mind. But he only remarked, in a casual manner, as they sat
+together on the white bench one fragrant sunset hour:
+
+"After all, I'm not sure but Nature's biggest miracle has been
+performed in the saucebox."
+
+And Olivia, smiling softly, answered: "I told you, you know, that
+there isn't any place too unlikely for Nature to set things going
+in!"
+
+
+
+
+BAGGING A GRANDFATHER
+
+
+"I'll warrant that 'he, she, or it' will come! Di usually bags her
+game!"
+
+The speaker, Mr. Thomas Crosby, must have had implicit faith in his
+daughter's prowess to venture such a confident assertion as that, for
+he was quite in the dark as to who "he, she, or it" might be.
+
+It was a cozy November evening, when open fires and friendly
+drop-lights are in order, and the three grown-folks of the family were
+enjoying these luxuries. Mr. Crosby was supposed to be reading his
+paper, but he had a sociable way of letting fall an occasional item of
+interest, or of letting fall the paper itself, at the first hint of
+interest in the remarks of his wife and daughter.
+
+Only within a very short time had there been three grown-folks in the
+family, unless, indeed, we count Rollo, the Gordon setter, who had
+attained his majority years ago. Di, who was but just turned sixteen,
+really did not like to remember how very recently she had been sent to
+bed at eight o'clock!
+
+Could Mr. Crosby have guessed the scheme which was occupying the
+active brain of the young person engaged in embroidering harmless
+bachelor's buttons upon a linen centrepiece, he would have been very
+much astonished,--whether pleasurably or otherwise, events alone must
+show. And since events had been taken in hand by Di the revelation was
+not likely to be long delayed.
+
+The incident which had elicited her father's declaration of confidence
+was a request on Di's part to be allowed the privilege of inviting a
+guest of her own choosing to the Thanksgiving dinner. The family party
+was to be materially reduced this year, for Mrs. Crosby's mother and
+sister, their only available relatives, were at that moment sojourning
+in Rome, where, if they were sufficiently mindful of current maxims
+to do as the Romans do, they were very unlikely to meet with any
+satisfactory combination of turkey and plum-pudding. It was with that
+fact in view, that Di felt a fair degree of assurance in preferring
+her request. They all liked each other, of course, better than they
+liked anybody else, but, really, one must do something a little out of
+the common on Thanksgiving day.
+
+"Certainly," Di's mother had agreed; "you shall invite any one you
+choose. I have been wishing we could think of some one to ask, but
+people all have their own family parties on Thanksgiving day. Is it to
+be one of your girl friends?"
+
+"That is my secret," Di had replied, sedately; "but, whoever it is,
+he, she, or it is a very important personage, and will have to be
+treated with great consideration!"
+
+"And how is that very _un_important personage, Di Crosby, going to get
+hold of so great a dignitary?" Mrs. Crosby had laughingly inquired. At
+which juncture Mr. Crosby had expressed his belief that Di would bag
+her game.
+
+That the prospective dinner should be incomplete was all the harder,
+considering the fact that the Crosbys were, by good rights, the
+possessors of that most desired ornament of such an occasion,--a _bona
+fide_ grandfather. Not only was old Mr. Crosby living, and in
+excellent health, but his residence was not above a dozen blocks
+removed from his son's house. And yet no grandfather had ever graced
+their Thanksgiving feast.
+
+Family quarrels are an unpleasant subject at the best, and since Di
+herself had never learned the precise cause of the long estrangement
+between father and son, in which the old gentleman had decreed that
+his son's wife and children should share, it is hardly worth while to
+recount it here. Suffice it to say, that it was a very old quarrel
+indeed, older than Di herself, and one to which Mr. and Mrs. Crosby
+never alluded.
+
+It was six years ago, when Di, the eldest of the children, was ten
+years of age, that she had come home from school one day, breathless
+with excitement.
+
+"Mamma!" she cried, bursting into the room where her mother was
+changing the baby's frock: "Mamma! Have I got a grandfather?"
+
+Mrs. Crosby glanced furtively at the round eyes of the baby, and took
+the precaution of smothering him in billows of white lawn before
+replying, rather softly: "Yes, dear; Papa's father is living. Why do
+you ask?"
+
+"I saw him to-day."
+
+"You saw him? Where?"
+
+"On the street."
+
+"How did you know it was he?"
+
+"Sallie Watson asked me why I didn't bow to my grandfather."
+
+"And what did you say?"
+
+"I said: 'Never you mind!' And then I ran home all the way, as tight
+as ever I could run! Mamma, why don't we ever see him?"
+
+The baby's head was just emerging from temporary eclipse, and Mrs.
+Crosby's voice dropped still lower, as she answered:
+
+"Because, dear, _he doesn't wish it_."
+
+There was something so gently conclusive in this answer that little Di
+was silenced. Yet the look in her mother's face had not escaped her; a
+wistful, hurt look, such as the child had never seen there before. And
+in her own mind Di asked many questions.
+
+What did it all mean? How did it happen that her grandfather did not
+wish it? Why was he so different from other girls' grandfathers? There
+must be something very wrong somewhere, but where was it? Since it
+could not possibly be with her father or mother, it must be that her
+grandfather was himself at fault.
+
+The object of Di's perplexities, Mr. Horatio Crosby, lived all alone
+in a very good house, and was in the habit of driving about in a very
+pretty victoria; people bowed to him, people who were friends of Di's
+father and mother, and must therefore be creditable acquaintances. All
+this she soon discovered, for, having once come to know her
+grandfather by sight, she seemed to be constantly crossing his path.
+
+Little by little, as she grew older, Di picked up certain stray bits
+of information, but she never tried to piece them together. She felt
+that she would a little rather not know any more. A quarrel there had
+certainly been, some time in the dark ages before she was born, and
+the old man had proved himself obstinate and implacable. Friendly
+overtures had been made from time to time, but he had set his face
+against all such advances, and now, for many, many years,--as many as
+three or four, little Di had gathered,--the friendly overtures had
+ceased.
+
+One gets used to things, and Di got used to having a grandfather who
+did not know her by sight. She was sure he did not know her, because
+once, when she was twelve years old, he had stopped her on the street
+to tell her that she had dropped her pocket-handkerchief. It had been
+very polite of the old gentleman, and she had been glad not to lose
+her handkerchief. Yet, as she thanked him, she gave him one searching
+look, and she told herself that he had a very cross expression, as
+well as a very harsh voice.
+
+This uncomplimentary verdict was largely due to the fact that, at this
+period, Di had quite made up her mind that her grandfather was a
+hateful, unreasonable old despot, and that it served him right never
+to come to the family parties, nor to have any Christmas presents, nor
+to have seen the baby, which Mamma said was the prettiest of all her
+babies, and which Di considered the most enchanting object on the face
+of the earth.
+
+But again many years had passed,--four, in this instance,--and there
+came a time, only a few weeks previous to the opening of our story,
+when Di found herself constrained to modify her view of her
+grandfather.
+
+It happened that she had gone with her drawing teacher, Miss Downs, to
+an exhibition of paintings. Among the pictures was a very striking one
+entitled _Le Grandpère_. It represented an old French peasant, just
+stopping off work for the day, with a flock of grandchildren clinging
+about his knees. Miss Downs called Di's attention to the wonderful
+reach of upland meadow, and the exquisite effect of the sunset light
+on the face of the old man; but, to Di, the meadow and the sunset
+light were unimportant accessories to the central idea. It was the
+grandfather himself that commanded all her attention,--the look of
+blissful indulgence on the old man's face; his attitude of protecting
+affection towards one young girl in particular, on whose head the
+toil-stained hand rested.
+
+"Yes," she said, after several minutes of rapt contemplation: "Yes;
+the sunset is very nice, and the fields; but, oh, the old man is such
+a darling!"
+
+As she spoke she turned to see how her teacher took her remark, and
+found herself face to face, not with Miss Downs, but with her own
+grandfather! She gave a little gasp of surprise, which he appeared not
+to notice.
+
+"So you think him a darling, do you?" he asked, and somehow his voice
+did not sound quite as harsh as it had done four years ago.
+
+Miss Downs had passed on, and there was no one standing near them, no
+one at all in the gallery who shared Di's knowledge of the strange
+situation. She felt sure that the old man had no suspicion of her
+identity.
+
+"Yes, I do," she answered boldly.
+
+"What makes a darling of him?" the old gentleman inquired.
+
+Di felt that this was her opportunity, and that she was letting it
+slip. But she could not help herself, and she only answered rather
+lamely:
+
+"Oh, nothing, except that he is _such a good grandfather!_" Upon which
+she beat a hasty retreat, and fled to the protection of Miss Downs,
+whom she found in an adjoining room.
+
+It was perhaps twenty minutes later that Di and her teacher passed the
+picture again, and, behold, there was the old gentleman standing, lost
+in thought, exactly on the spot where she had left him. He did not
+seem to be looking at the picture, but Di felt certain that he was
+thinking of it. And, suddenly, it passed through her mind like a flash
+that he was sorry.
+
+"Yes; he's sorry," she said to herself. "He's sorry, and he doesn't
+know how to say so!"
+
+The more she thought of it in the days that followed,--and she seemed
+to be thinking pretty much all the time of the old man and the look on
+his face as he stood before the picture,--the more convinced she
+became that he was sorry and did not know how to say so.
+
+"And he ought not to have to say so," she told herself. "He's an old,
+old man, and he ought not to have to say that he is sorry."
+
+The old, old man--aged sixty-five--might have taken exception to that
+part of her proposition touching his extreme antiquity, but we may be
+pretty sure that he would have cordially endorsed her opinion that the
+dignity of his years forbade his saying that he was sorry.
+
+In those days Di used to walk often past her grandfather's house. It
+was a very big house for a single occupant. Even the stout footman,
+whom she had once seen at the door, did not seem stout enough, nor
+numerous enough to relieve the big house of its vacancy. There were
+heavy woollen draperies in the parlor windows, but not a hint of the
+pretty white muslin which a woman would have had up in no time. Once
+she passed the house just at dusk, after the lights were lighted.
+Through the long windows she looked into the empty room. Not so much
+as a cat or a dog was awaiting the master. In the swift glance with
+which she swept the interior she noted that the fireplace was boarded
+in. That seemed to Di indescribably dreary. Perhaps her grandfather
+did not sit here; perhaps he had a library somewhere, like their own.
+But, no; there was the portly footman entering with the evening paper,
+which he laid upon the table before coming to close the shutters.
+
+"He's too old to say he is sorry," Di said to herself, as she turned
+dejectedly away; "a great deal too old--and lonely--and dreary!"
+
+And it was on that very evening that she made her little petition to
+her mother, and that her father declared that Di was sure to bag her
+game.
+
+Old Mr. Crosby, meanwhile, was too well-used to his empty house and to
+his boarded-in fireplace to mind them very much, too unaccustomed to
+muslin curtains to miss them. Yet he had not been on very good terms
+with himself for the past few weeks, and that was something which he
+did mind particularly.
+
+The result of his long cogitation in front of the grandfather picture
+had been highly uncomplimentary to the artist. He pronounced the
+homespun subject unworthy of artistic treatment, and he told himself
+that it merited just that order of criticism which it had received at
+the hands of the young person with the rather pretty turn of
+countenance, who had regarded it with such enthusiasm. Nevertheless,
+he did not forget the picture,--nor yet the young person!
+
+It was the afternoon of Thanksgiving day, and there was a light fall
+of snow outside. He remembered that in old times there used always to
+be a lot of snow on Thanksgiving day. Things were very different in
+old times. He wondered what would have been thought of a man fifty
+years ago,--or seventeen years ago, for the matter of that,--who was
+giving his servants a holiday and dining at the club. As if those
+foreign servants had any concern in the Yankee festival! But then,
+what concern had he, Horatio Crosby, in it nowadays? What had he to be
+thankful for? Whom had he to be thankful with? He was very lucky to
+have a club to go to! He might as well go now, though it was still two
+or three hours to dinner time. He would ring for his overcoat and
+snow-shoes.
+
+His hand was on the bell-rope--for Mr. Horatio Crosby was
+old-fashioned, and had never yet admitted an electric button to his
+domain.
+
+At that moment the door opened softly--what was Burns thinking of, not
+to knock?--and there stood, not Burns, not Nora, but a slender
+apparition in petticoats, with a dash of snow on hat and jacket, and a
+dash of daring in a pair of very bright eyes.
+
+"Good afternoon, Grandfather," was the apparition's cheerful greeting,
+and involuntarily the old gentleman found himself replying with a
+"Good afternoon" of his own.
+
+The apparition moved swiftly forward, and, before he knew what he was
+about, an unmistakable kiss had got itself applied to his countenance
+and--more amazing still--he was strongly of the impression that there
+had been--no robbery!
+
+Greatly agitated by so unusual an experience, he only managed to say:
+"So you are----?"
+
+"Yes; I am Di Crosby,--your granddaughter, you know, and--this is
+Thanksgiving day!"
+
+"You don't say so!" and the old man gazed down at her in growing
+trepidation.
+
+"Let's sit down," Di suggested, feeling that she gained every point
+that her adversary lost. "This must be your chair. And I'll sit here.
+There! Isn't this cozy?"
+
+"Oh, very!"
+
+The master of the house had sufficiently recovered himself to put on
+his spectacles, the use of which was affording him much satisfaction.
+He really did not know that the young girl of the day was so pretty!
+
+"I don't suppose you smoke a pipe," Di remarked, in a strictly
+conversational tone.
+
+"Well, no; I can't say I do. Why?"
+
+"I only thought I should like to light one for you. You know," she
+added, confidentially, "girls always light their grandfathers' pipes
+in books. And I've had so little practice in that sort of thing!"
+
+"In pipes?"
+
+"No--in grandfathers!"
+
+There came a pause, occupied, on Di's part, by a swift, not altogether
+approving survey of the stiff, high-studded room. This time it was the
+old gentleman who broke the silence.
+
+[Illustration: "'Good afternoon, Grandfather,' was the apparition's
+cheerful greeting."]
+
+"I believe you are the young lady who admired that old clodhopper in
+the picture," he remarked.
+
+"Oh, yes; he was a great darling!"
+
+"He wasn't very handsome."
+
+"No, but--there is always something so dear about a grandfather!"
+
+"Always?"
+
+"Yes; always!" and suddenly Di left her seat, and, taking a few steps
+forward, she dropped on her knees before him.
+
+"Grandfather," she said, clasping her small gloved hands on his knee,
+"Grandfather!"
+
+She was meaning to be very eloquent indeed,--that is, if it were to
+become necessary. She did not dream that that one word, so
+persuasively spoken, was more eloquent than a whole oration.
+
+"Well, Miss Di?"
+
+"Grandfather, I've a great favour to ask of you, and I should like to
+have you say 'yes' beforehand!"
+
+He looked down upon her with a heart rendered surprisingly soft by
+that first word,--and a mind much tickled by the audacity of the rest
+of it.
+
+"And are you in the habit of getting favours granted in the dark?" he
+inquired.
+
+"Papa says I usually bag my game!"
+
+Now old Mr. Crosby had been a sportsman in his day, and he was
+mightily pleased with the little jest. But he only asked:
+
+"And what's your game in this instance, if you please?"
+
+"You!"
+
+"Oh, I! And you want to bag me? Bag me for what?"
+
+"For dinner!"
+
+"Oh, for dinner!"
+
+"Yes! We are all by ourselves to-day, and you'll just make the table
+even. There's only Papa and Mamma, and Louise, and Beth, and Alice,
+and the baby." Somehow the succession of sweet, soft names sounded
+very attractive to the crabbed old man.
+
+"The baby is six years old," Di continued, unconsciously adding
+another touch to the attractiveness of the picture.
+
+"And what is her name?"
+
+"_His_ name is Horatio. I never liked it very well; it seemed too long
+for a baby. But, do you know?--I think I shall like it better now."
+
+She was still kneeling before him, with her small gloved hands clasped
+on his knee. It was clear that she had not the faintest idea of being
+refused. Yet even had she been somewhat less confident, she might well
+have taken heart of hope, for, at this point, he gently laid his
+wrinkled hand upon hers.
+
+"You _will_ come to dinner?" she begged, apparently quite unconscious
+of the little caress. "We dine at five on Thanksgiving day, and you
+and I can walk over together. They will all be so surprised,--and so
+happy!"
+
+"Then they are not expecting me?" and the old man gave her a very
+piercing look, which did not seem to pierce at all.
+
+"No; they didn't know who it was to be. I only said it was a very
+important personage."
+
+"Coming in a bag!" he suggested.
+
+"Oh, that's only a sportsman's expression!"
+
+"Indeed! And is it customary nowadays to go a-hunting for your
+Thanksgiving dinner?"
+
+Di's eyes danced. This was indeed a grandfather worth waiting for! But
+she only answered demurely:
+
+"That depends upon your quarry!"
+
+Lucky Di, to have hit upon that pretty, old-fashioned word! She had,
+indeed, read her Sir Walter to good purpose.
+
+Now, Mr. Horatio Crosby had held out stoutly against every appeal of
+natural affection, of reason, of conscience. He was not a
+quick-tempered man like his son; he was not, like his daughter-in-law,
+easily rebuffed; but there was about him a toughness of fibre which
+yielded neither to blows nor to pressure, and which, for many years,
+neither friend nor foe had penetrated. And here was this young thing
+simply ignoring the hitherto impenetrable barrier! The clear young
+eyes looked straight through it, the fresh young voice made nothing of
+it, the playful fancies overleapt it. A quarry, indeed! Where had the
+child got hold of the word?
+
+Of a sudden the old man bent forward and lightly touched the laughing
+face in token of surrender.
+
+"It's an old bird you've winged, little girl," he said, as he rose to
+his feet and stepped once more to the bell-rope; and this time he
+really rang for his coat and overshoes.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And so you've named this little chap Horatio?"
+
+Dinner was over,--a very pleasant, natural kind of dinner, too, in
+spite of the difficulty some of the family had found in eating
+it,--and they were all gathered about a roaring woodfire, fortifying
+themselves, with the aid of coffee, cigars, and chocolate-drops,--each
+according to his kind,--for a game of blind-man's-buff. The small
+scion of the house was seated on his grandfather's knee, playing with
+his grandfather's fob, after the immemorial habit of small scions.
+
+"Of course we named him Horatio!" It was Mrs. Crosby who answered,
+and, as her father-in-law looked across at her face with the
+firelight playing upon it, he seemed to remember that he had always
+wished for a daughter.
+
+"And what do you call him for short?"
+
+"Just Horatio!" piped up little Alice, who was sitting on the rug at
+the old gentleman's feet, gently pulling Rollo's long-suffering ears.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Thomas Crosby; "we have always been proud of the
+name."
+
+Then Di, perceiving a slight unsteadiness in the voice in which this
+was said, stepped behind her grandfather's chair, and, dropping a
+small kiss on the top of his head, looked across at her father, and
+exclaimed:
+
+"Oh, Papa! To think of our having bagged a grandfather!"
+
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+A Selection from the Catalogue of
+
+G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+Complete Catalogue sent on application
+
+
+
+
+BY ANNA FULLER
+
+A LITERARY COURTSHIP
+
+Under the Auspices of Pike's Peak. 28th thousand. Illustrated.
+16°, gilt top. $1.25
+
+"A delightful little love story. Like her other books it is bright
+and breezy; its humor is crisp, and the general idea decidedly
+original."--Boston Times.
+
+A VENETIAN JUNE
+
+Illustrated by George Sloane. 15th thousand. 16°, gilt top $1.25
+
+"Full of the picturesqueness, the novelty, the beauty of life in the
+city of gondolas and gondoliers."--Literary World.
+
+Handsome Holiday Edition, Illustrated by Frederick Simpson Coburn.
+8° $3.00
+
+PRATT PORTRAITS
+
+Sketched in a New England Suburb. 12th thousand. Illustrated by
+George Sloane. 12°, gilt top $1.25
+
+"The lines the author cuts in her vignette are sharp and clear, but she
+has, too, not alone the knack of color, but what is rarer, the gift of
+humor."--New York Times.
+
+ONE OF THE PILGRIMS
+
+A Bank Story. 6th thousand. 12°, gilt top, $1.25
+
+"The story is graceful and delightful, full of vivacity, and is not
+without pathos. It is thoroughly interesting."--Congregationalist.
+
+G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+New York--London
+
+
+
+
+BY ANNA FULLER
+
+PEAK AND PRAIRIE
+From a Colorado Sketch Book.
+12°. Illustrated. 7th thousand $1.50
+
+"The stories are as varied as our Colorado wild-flowers, and through
+each one, whether grave or gay, runs a wholesome cheeriness and moral
+uplift which leaves the reader not only happier but better."--Colorado
+Springs Evening Telegraph.
+
+KATHERINE DAY
+12°. 8th thousand $1.50
+
+"A love story of the first water. The heroine is a woman's woman, and
+the hero is a man's man.... The spirit of 'Katherine Day' is very
+gallant, very humorously tender. The lightest passages, like the
+gravest, are sane and true."--Louise Imogen Guiney in The Critic.
+
+A BOOKFUL OF GIRLS
+12°. 4th thousand. With 6 Full-Page Illustrations $1.50
+
+This book is filled to the brim with happy school-girls, and overflowing
+with innocent mischief and fun. Madge and Patty, Blythe and Olivia, are
+at that "betwixt and between" age when the great questions are how
+high up the hair should go, and just how much boot-top should be left
+below the skirt.
+
+LATER PRATT PORTRAITS
+With 8 Full-Page Illustrations by Maud Tousey Faugel
+net $1.25
+
+The author's style is unaffected and charming; her humor is subtle and
+delightful; her characters are sharply drawn, and their stories told
+with fidelity and sympathy.
+
+G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+New York--London
+
+
+
+
+The Thunderhead Lady
+By Anna Fuller and Brian Read
+With about 40 Line Drawings. $1.00 net. By mail, $1.10
+
+"Wanted: By a Harvard Graduate, a permanent position as husband.
+Carefully trained by an anxious mother, and used to feminine
+domination."
+
+So begins a clipping from the Boston Herald, written in jest, and
+printed from bravado, which elicits a reply from a chance reader and
+results in the correspondence that forms the substance of this little
+skit. From mock seriousness the writers drift off into more or less
+casual chat upon books and people, illumined from time to time with a
+touch of romance. The whole forms a bit of light reading which should
+appeal in equal measure to the thoughtful and the frivolous.
+
+New York--G. P. Putnam's Sons London
+
+
+
+
+By the Author of
+
+"Aunt Olive in Bohemia," "The Notch in the Stick," etc.
+
+The Peacock Feather By Leslie Moore
+$1.35 net. By mail, $1.50
+
+In a moment of reminiscent detachment the wearer of the Peacock
+feather describes himself as "one whom Fate in one of her freakish
+moods had wedded to the roads, the highways and hedges, the fields
+and woods. Once Cupid had touched him with his wing--the merest flick
+of a feather. The man--poor fool!--fancied himself wounded. Later
+when he looked for the scar, he found there was none." And so he
+wandered.
+
+Here is a rare love story, that breathes of the open spaces and is
+filled with the lure of the road.
+
+G. P. Putnam's Sons
+New York--London
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOKFUL OF GIRLS***
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+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Bookful of Girls, by Anna Fuller</title>
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+<body>
+<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Bookful of Girls, by Anna Fuller</h1>
+<pre>
+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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: A Bookful of Girls</p>
+<p>Author: Anna Fuller</p>
+<p>Release Date: April 8, 2009  [eBook #28538]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOKFUL OF GIRLS***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class='tp'><span style='text-decoration:underline;font-size:1.2em;'><i>By Anna Fuller</i></span><br /><br />
+A Literary Courtship<br />
+A Venetian June<br />
+Peak and Prairie<br />
+Pratt Portraits<br />
+Later Pratt Portraits<br />
+One of the Pilgrims<br />
+Katherine Day<br />
+A Bookful of Girls</p>
+<hr class='p10' />
+<p class='tp'>The Thunderhead Lady<br />
+<span style='font-size:0.8em;'>By Anna Fuller and Brian Read</span></p>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a>
+<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 369px; height: 529px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 369px;'>
+&#8220;Suddenly a new sound reached her ear.&#8221;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<p class='tp' style='margin-top:0.5em;margin-bottom:2em;font-size:2.2em;'>A Bookful of Girls</p>
+<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:15px;'>By</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;'>Anna Fuller</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.8em;margin-bottom:5em;'>Author of &#8220;Pratt Portraits,&#8221; &#8220;Katherine Day,&#8221; etc.</p>
+<div class='figcenter' style='margin:0 auto'>
+<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-em2.png' />
+</div>
+<p class='tp' style='margin:10px auto'>Illustrated</p>
+<div class='figcenter' style='margin:0 auto'>
+<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-em2.png' />
+</div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;margin-top:3em;'>G. P. Putnam&#8217;s Sons</p>
+<p class='tp' style='letter-spacing: 0.15em;'>New York and London</p>
+<p class='tp' style=''>The Knickerbocker Press</p>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.8em;'><span style=''>Copyright, 1905</span><br />
+BY<br />
+<span style='font-size:larger;'>ANNA FULLER</span><br /><br />
+The Knickerbocker Press, New York</p>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:0.8em; line-height:2em;'>TO<br />
+<span style='font-size:larger;'>S. E. R.</span><br />
+THE YOUNGEST OF ALL MY FRIENDS</p>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
+<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'>
+<tr>
+  <td align='left'><span style='font-size:small;'>&nbsp;</span></td>
+  <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Blythe Halliday&#8217;s Voyage</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#BLYTHE_HALLIDAYS_VOYAGE'>1</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Artful Madge</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#ARTFUL_MADGE'>63</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>The Ideas of Polly</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_IDEAS_OF_POLLY'>129</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Nannie&#8217;s Theatre Party</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#NANNIES_THEATRE_PARTY'>194</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Olivia&#8217;s Sun-Dial</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#OLIVIAS_SUNDIAL'>216</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'>Bagging a Grandfather</td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#BAGGING_A_GRANDFATHER'>238</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3>
+<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto;'>
+<col style='width:80%;' />
+<col style='width:20%;' />
+<tr>
+  <td></td>
+  <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small'>PAGE</span></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><i>&#8220;Suddenly a new sound reached her ear.&#8221;</i></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><i>&#8220;Eleanor&#8217;s eyes had wandered to the high, broad north window.&#8221;</i></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'>80</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><i>&#8220;Mufty hastily established himself across her shoulder.&#8221;</i></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>142</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><i>&#8220;All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.&#8221;</i></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'>201</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><i>&#8220;Please ma&#8217;am, will ye gimme a bowkay?&#8221;</i></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_5'>227</a></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+  <td valign='top' align='left'><i>&#8220;&#8216;Good afternoon, Grandfather,&#8217; was the apparition&#8217;s cheerful greeting.&#8221;</i></td>
+  <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_6'>255</a></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='BLYTHE_HALLIDAYS_VOYAGE' id='BLYTHE_HALLIDAYS_VOYAGE'></a>
+<h2>Blythe Halliday&#8217;s Voyage</h2>
+</div>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span></div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>CHAPTER I</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1em;margin-bottom:30px;'>THE CROW&#8217;S NEST</p>
+<p>&#8220;You never told me how you happened
+to name her Blythe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The two old friends, Mr. John DeWitt
+and Mrs. Halliday, were reclining side by
+side in their steamer-chairs, lulled into a
+quiescent mood by the gentle, scarcely
+perceptible, motion of the vessel. It was
+an exertion to speak, and Mrs. Halliday
+replied evasively, &#8220;Do you like the
+name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For Blythe,&mdash;yes. But I don&#8217;t know
+another girl who could carry it off so
+well. Tell me how it happened.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then Blythe&#8217;s mother reluctantly gathered
+herself together for a serious effort,
+and said: &#8220;It was the old Scotch nurse
+who did it. She called her &#8216;a blythe lassie&#8217;
+before she was three days old. We had
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span>
+been hesitating between Lucretia for
+Charles&#8217;s mother and Hannah for mine,
+and we compromised on Blythe!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Upon which the speaker, allowing her
+eyes to close definitively, took on the
+appearance of gentle inanition which
+characterised nine-tenths of her fellow-voyagers,
+ranged side by side in their
+steamer-chairs along the deck.</p>
+<p>They had passed the Azores, that lovely
+May morning, and were headed for Cape
+St. Vincent,&mdash;the good old <i>Lorelei</i>
+lounging along at her easiest gait, the
+which is also her rapidest. For there is
+nothing more deceptive than a steamer&#8217;s
+behaviour on a calm day when the sea
+offers no perceptible resistance to the
+keel.</p>
+<p>Here and there an insatiable novel-reader
+held a paper-covered volume before
+his nose, but more often the book had
+slid to the deck, to be picked up by Gustav,
+the prince of deck-stewards, and carefully
+tucked in among the wraps of the
+unconscious owner.</p>
+<p>Just now, however, Gustav was enjoying
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span>
+a moment of unaccustomed respite
+from activity, for his most exacting beneficiaries
+were not sufficiently awake to
+demand a service of him. He had administered
+<i>bouillon</i> and lemonade and
+cracked ice by the gallon; he had scattered
+sandwiches and ginger cookies broadcast
+among them; he had tenderly inquired of
+the invalids, &#8220;&#8217;Ow you feel?&#8221; and had
+cheerfully pronounced them, one and all,
+to be &#8220;mush besser&#8221;; and now he himself
+was, for a fleeting moment, the centre
+of interest in the one tiny eddy of animation
+on the whole length of the deck.</p>
+<p>Just aft of the awning, in the full sunshine,
+he was engaged in &#8220;posing,&#8221; with
+the sheepish air of a person having his
+photograph taken, while a fresh, comely
+girl of sixteen stood, kodak in hand,
+waiting for his attitude to relax. Half a
+dozen spectators, elderly men and small
+boys, stood about making facetious remarks,
+but Gustav and his youthful &#8220;operator&#8221;
+were too much in earnest to pay
+them much heed.</p>
+<p>Blythe Halliday was usually very much
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span>
+in earnest; by which is not to be inferred
+that she was of an alarmingly serious cast
+of mind. Her earnestness took the form
+of intense satisfaction in the matter in
+hand, whatever that might be, and she had
+found life a succession of delightful experiences,
+of which this one of an ocean voyage
+was perhaps the most delectable of all.</p>
+<p>In one particular Blythe totally disagreed
+with her mother; for Mrs. Halliday
+had declared, on one of the first
+universally unbecoming days of the voyage,
+that it was a mystery how all the
+agreeable people got to Europe, since so
+few of them were ever to be discovered
+on an ocean steamer! Whereas Blythe,
+for her part, had never dreamed that
+there were so many interesting persons in
+the world as were to be discovered among
+their fellow-voyagers.</p>
+<p>Was not the big, bluff Captain himself,
+with his unfathomable sea-craft and his
+autocratic power, a regular old Viking
+such as you might read of in your history
+books, but would hardly expect to meet
+with in the flesh? And was there not
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span>
+a real Italian Count, elderly but impressive,
+who had dealings with no one
+but his valet, the latter being a nimble
+personage with a wicked eye who seemed
+to possess the faculty of starting up
+through the deck as if summoned by a
+species of wireless telegraphy? Best of
+all, was not Blythe&#8217;s opposite neighbour
+at the Captain&#8217;s table a shaggy, keen-eyed
+Englishman, figuring on the passenger-list
+as &#8220;Mr. Grey,&#8221; but who was
+generally believed to be no less a personage
+than Hugh Dalton, the famous poet,
+travelling incognito?</p>
+<p>This latter gentleman was more approachable
+than the Count, and had taken
+occasion to tell Blythe some very wonderful
+tales, besides still further endearing
+himself to her by listening with flattering
+attention to such narratives as she
+was pleased to relate for his benefit. Indeed,
+they were rapidly becoming fast
+friends and she was seriously contemplating
+a snap-shot at his expense.</p>
+<p>Mr. Grey, meanwhile, had joined the
+group in the sunshine, where he stood,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span>
+pipe in mouth, with his hands thrust
+deep into the pockets of his reefer, regarding
+Gustav&#8217;s awkwardness with kindly
+amusement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There they go, those energetic young
+persons!&#8221; Mr. De Witt observed, a few
+minutes later, as Blythe and the Englishman
+walked past, in search of the Captain,
+whom Mr. Grey had suggested as the next
+subject for photographic prowess. &#8220;Do
+you suppose that really is Dalton?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. De Witt spoke with entire disregard
+of the fact that Mrs. Halliday appeared
+to be slumbering tranquilly. And
+indeed an interrupted nap is so easily
+made good on shipboard that Blythe
+used sometimes to beg her mother to try
+and &#8220;fall awake&#8221; for a minute!</p>
+<p>On this occasion, as she walked past
+with the alleged poet, she remarked:
+&#8220;Even Mr. De Witt can&#8217;t keep Mamma
+awake on shipboard, and she isn&#8217;t a bit
+of a sleepy person on dry land.&#8221;</p>
+<p>By way of response, Mr. Grey turned
+to contemplate the line of steamer-chairs,
+billowy with voluminous wraps, saying:
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span>
+&#8220;Doesn&#8217;t the deck look like a sea becalmed?
+See! Those are the waves,
+too lazy to break!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How funny the ocean would look if
+the waves forgot to turn over!&#8221; Blythe
+exclaimed, glancing across the gently undulating
+surface of the sea. &#8220;I don&#8217;t suppose
+they&#8217;ve kept still one single instant
+in millions of years!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not since the Spirit of God moved
+upon the face of the waters,&#8221; her companion
+returned, with quiet emphasis; and
+Blythe felt surer than ever that he really
+was the great poet whom people believed
+him to be.</p>
+<p>A moment later they had stormed the
+bridge, where they two, of all the ship&#8217;s
+company, were pretty sure of a welcome.
+They found the Captain standing, with
+his sextant at his eye, the four gold stripes
+on his sleeve gleaming gaily in the sunshine.
+Evidently things were going right,
+for the visitors and their daring proposal
+were most graciously received.</p>
+<p>The fine old sea-dog stood like a man
+to be shot at; and as Blythe faced him,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span>
+kodak in hand, the breeze playing pranks
+with her hair and blowing her golf-cape
+straight back from her shoulders, it was
+all so exhilarating that before she knew
+it she had turned her little camera upon
+the supposed Hugh Dalton himself, who
+made an absurd grimace and told her to
+&#8220;let her go!&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was always a delightful experience
+for Blythe to stand on the bridge and
+watch the ship&#8217;s officers at their wonderful
+work of guiding the great sea-monster
+across the pathless deep. Here was the
+brain of the ship, as Mr. Grey had once
+pointed out, and to-day, when a sailor
+suddenly appeared above the gangway
+and, touching his hat, received a curt
+order,&mdash;&#8220;That is one of the nerves of the
+vessel,&#8221; her companion said. &#8220;It carries
+the message of the brain to the furthest
+parts of the body.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I suppose the eyes are up there,&#8221;
+Blythe returned, glancing at the &#8220;crow&#8217;s
+nest,&#8221; half-way up the great forward mast,
+where the two lookouts were keeping
+their steady watch.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he rejoined, &#8220;that must be why
+they always have a pair of them,&mdash;so as
+to get a proper focus. <i>Nicht wahr, Herr
+Capit&auml;n?</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>And the little fiction was explained to
+the Captain, who grew more genial than
+ever under the stimulus of such agreeable
+conversation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Ja wohl!</i>&#8221; he agreed, heartily; &#8220;<i>Ja
+wohl!</i>&#8221;&mdash;which was really quite an outburst
+of eloquence for Captain Seemann.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If I couldn&#8217;t be captain,&#8221; Blythe announced,
+&#8220;I think I should choose to be
+lookout.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How is dat?&#8221; the Captain inquired.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It must be the best place of all, away
+up above everything and everybody.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you would like to go up dare?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course I should!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you would not be afraid?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not I!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Upon which the Captain, in high good-humour,
+declared, &#8220;I belief you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>After that he fell to speaking German
+with Mr. Grey, and Blythe moved to the
+end of the bridge, and stood looking down
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span>
+upon the steerage passengers, where they
+were disporting themselves in the sun on
+the lower deck.</p>
+<p>They were a motley crew, and she never
+tired of watching them, as they sat about
+in picturesque groups, singing or playing
+games, or lay stretched on the deck, fast
+asleep.</p>
+<p>Somewhat apart from the others was
+a woman with a little girl whom Blythe
+had not before observed. The child lay
+on a bright shawl, her head against the
+woman&#8217;s knee, her dark Italian eyes gazing
+straight up into the luminous blue
+of the sky. There was a curiously high-bred
+look in the pale features, young and
+unformed as they were, and Blythe wondered
+how such a child as that came to
+belong to the stout, middle-aged woman
+who did not herself seem altogether out
+of place in the rough steerage.</p>
+<p>At this point in her meditations, a quiet,
+matter-of-fact voice struck her ear, and,
+turning, she found that Mr. Grey had
+come up behind her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Captain says he will have the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span>
+&#8216;crow&#8217;s nest&#8217; lowered and let you go up in
+it if you like,&#8221; was the startling announcement
+which roused her from her revery.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you are making fun!&#8221; she protested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t wonder you think so, but he
+seems quite in earnest, and I can tell you
+it&#8217;s the chance of a lifetime!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should think it was!&#8221; she gasped.
+&#8220;Oh, tell him he&#8217;s an angel with wings!
+And please, <i>please</i> don&#8217;t let him change
+his mind while I run and ask Mamma!&#8221;
+With which Blythe vanished down the
+gangway, her golf-cape rising straight up
+around her head as the draught took it.</p>
+<p>We may well believe that such a prospect
+as that drove from her mind all
+speculations as to the steerage passengers,
+and that even the thought of the little
+girl with the wonderful eyes did not again
+visit her in the few hours intervening.</p>
+<p>Yet when, that afternoon at eight-bells,
+she passed with Mr. Grey down the steep
+gangway to the steerage deck, which they
+were obliged to traverse on their way to the
+forecastle, and they came upon the little
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span>
+creature lying, with upturned face, against
+the woman&#8217;s knee, Blythe felt a sharp
+pang of compunction and pity. The child
+looked even more pathetic than when seen
+from above, and the young girl involuntarily
+stooped in passing, and touched the
+wan little cheek. Whereupon one of those
+ineffable smiles which are the birthright
+of Italians lighted the little face, and the
+small hand was lifted with so captivating
+a gesture that Blythe, clasping it in her
+own, dropped on her knees beside the
+child.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Is it your little girl?&#8221; she asked, looking
+up into the face of the woman, whose
+marked unlikeness to the child was answer
+enough.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, no, Signorina,&#8221; the woman protested.
+&#8220;She is my little Signorina.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you are taking her to Italy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Si, Signorina; alla bella Italia</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then the lips of the little girl parted
+with a still more radiant smile, and she
+murmured, &#8220;<i>Alla bella Italia</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>A moment later, Blythe and her companion
+had passed on and up to the forward
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span>
+deck where, climbing a short ladder
+to the railing of the &#8220;crow&#8217;s nest,&#8221; they
+dropped lightly down into this most novel
+of elevators. There was a shrill whistle
+from the boatswain, the waving of white
+handkerchiefs where Mrs. Halliday and
+Mr. DeWitt stood, forward of the wheel-house,
+to watch the start; then the big
+windlass began to turn, the rope was
+&#8220;paid out,&#8221; and the slow, rather creaky
+journey up the mast had begun.</p>
+<p>It was a perfect day for the adventure.
+The ship was not rolling at all, the little
+motion to be felt being a gentle tilt from
+stem to stern which manifested itself at
+long intervals in the slightest imaginable
+dip of the prow. And presently the ascent
+was accomplished, and the &#8220;crow&#8217;s
+nest&#8221; once more clung in its accustomed
+place against the mast,&mdash;forty feet up in
+the air, according to Mr. Grey&#8217;s reckoning.</p>
+<p>As they looked across the great sea the
+horizon seemed to have receded to an incalculable
+distance, and the airs that came
+to them across that broad expanse, unsullied
+by the faintest trace of man or his
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span>
+works, were purer than are often vouchsafed
+to mortals. Blythe felt her heart
+grow big with the sense of space and
+purity, and this wonderful swift passage
+through the upper air. Involuntarily she
+took off her hat to get the full sweep of
+the breeze upon her forehead.</p>
+<p>Suddenly, a new sound reached her
+ear,&mdash;a small, remote, confidential kind of
+voice, that seemed to arrive from nowhere
+in particular.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s the Captain, hailing us through
+his megaphone,&#8221; her companion remarked;
+and, glancing down, far down,
+in the direction of the bridge, Blythe beheld
+the Captain, looking curiously attenuated
+in the unusual perspective, standing
+with a gigantic object resembling a cornucopia
+raised to his lips.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You like it vare you are?&#8221; quoth the
+uncanny voice, not loud, but startlingly
+near.</p>
+<p>And Blythe nodded her head and
+waved her hat in vigorous assent.</p>
+<p>The great ship stretched long and narrow
+astern, the main deck shut in with
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span>
+awnings through which the huge smokestacks
+rose, and the wide-mouthed ventilators
+crooked their necks. Along either
+outer edge of the awnings a line of lifeboats
+showed, tied fast in their high-springing
+davits, while from the mouth of
+the yellow ship&#8217;s-funnels black masses of
+smoke floated slowly and heavily astern.
+The <i>Lorelei</i> swam the water like a wonderful
+white aquatic bird, leaving upon the
+quiet sea a long snowy track of foam.</p>
+<p>On a line with their lofty perch a sailor
+swung spider-like among the network of
+sheets and halyards that clung about
+the mainmast, its meshes clearly defined
+against the pure blue of the sky, while below
+there, on the bridge, the big brass
+nautical instruments gleamed, and the
+caps of the Captain and his lieutenants
+showed white in the sun. As Blythe
+glanced down and away from this stirring
+outlook, she could just distinguish among
+the dark figures of the steerage the small
+white face of the child upturned toward
+the sky; and again a sharp pang took her,
+a feeling that the little creature did not
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span>
+belong among those rough men and
+women. No wonder that the beautiful
+Italian eyes always sought the sky; it
+was their only refuge from sordid sights.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose the woman meant that the
+child was her little mistress; did she
+not?&#8221; Blythe asked abruptly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That was what I understood.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s probably a romance; don&#8217;t you
+think so?&#8221; and Blythe felt that she was
+applying to a high authority for information
+on such a head.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Looks like it,&#8221; the great authority
+opined. &#8220;I think we shall have to investigate
+the case.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, will you? And you speak Italian
+so beautifully!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How do you know that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m sure of it! It sounds so
+exactly like the hand-organ men!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Look here, Miss Blythe,&#8221; the poet protested,
+&#8220;you must not flatter a modest
+man like that. My daughter would say
+you were turning my head.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I rather think your daughter
+knows that it&#8217;s not the kind of head to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span>
+be turned,&#8221; Blythe answered easily. She
+was beginning to feel as if she had known
+this famous personage all her life.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall tell her that,&#8221; said he.</p>
+<p>Presently one-bell sounded a faint tinkle
+far below, and the big megaphone inquired
+whether they wanted to come down,
+and was assured that they did not. And
+all the while during their voyage through
+the air, which was prolonged for another
+half-hour, the two good comrades were
+weaving romances about the little girl;
+and with a curious confidence, as if, forsooth,
+they could conjure up what fortunes
+they would out of that vast horizon toward
+which the good ship was bearing them
+on.</p>
+<p>At last the time came for them to go
+below, and they reluctantly signalled to
+the sailors, grouped about the deck in
+patient expectation. Upon which the
+windlass was set going, and slowly and
+creakingly the &#8220;crow&#8217;s nest&#8221; was lowered
+from its airy height.</p>
+<p>The two a&euml;ronauts found the steerage
+still populous with queer figures, and the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span>
+atmosphere seemed more unsavoury than
+ever after their sojourn among the upper
+airs. To their disappointment, however,
+the woman and her Signorina were nowhere
+to be seen. Blythe and Mr. Grey
+looked for them in every corner of the
+deck, but no trace of them was to be
+found, and Blythe mounted the gangway
+to their own deck with much of the reluctance
+which she often felt in submitting to
+an interruption in a serial story.</p>
+<p>They found Mrs. Halliday amusing herself
+with a glass of cracked ice, giving
+casual attention the while to a very long
+story told by a garrulous fellow-passenger
+in a wadded hood.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Mamma,&#8221; Blythe cried, perching
+upon the extension foot of her mother&#8217;s
+chair, &#8220;why didn&#8217;t you and Mr. DeWitt
+stay longer? And how did it happen that
+nobody else got wind of it? I don&#8217;t believe
+a single person knows what we&#8217;ve
+been about! And oh! we have had such
+a glorious time! It was like being a bird!
+Only that little girl in the steerage oughtn&#8217;t
+to be there, and Mr. Grey and I are
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span>
+going to see what can be done about it,
+and&#8211;&#8211;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The wadded hood had fallen silent, and
+now its wearer rose, with an air of resignation,
+and carried her tale to another listener,
+while Mr. Grey also moved away,
+leaving Blythe to tell her own story.</p>
+<p>They were great friends, Mrs. Halliday
+and this only child of hers, and well they
+might be; for, as Blythe had informed
+Mr. Grey early in their acquaintance;
+&#8220;Mamma and I are all there are of us.&#8221;</p>
+<p>As she sat beside this best of friends,&mdash;having
+dropped into the chair left vacant
+by the wadded hood,&mdash;Blythe lived over
+again every experience and sensation of
+that eventful afternoon, and with the delightful
+sense of sharing it with somebody
+who understood. And, since the most
+abiding impression of all had been her
+solicitude for the little steerage passenger,
+she found no difficulty in arousing her
+mother to an almost equal interest in the
+child&#8217;s fate.</p>
+<p>And presently, when the cornet player
+passed them, with the air of short-lived
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span>
+importance which comes to a ship&#8217;s cornet
+three times a day, and, stationing himself
+well aft, played the cheerful little tune
+which heralds the approaching dinner-hour,
+Blythe slipped her hand into her
+mother&#8217;s and said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll do something about that little
+girl; won&#8217;t us, Mumsey?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Upon which Mrs. Halliday, rising, and
+patting the rosy cheek which she used to
+call the &#8220;apple of her eye,&#8221; said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shouldn&#8217;t wonder if us did, Blythe.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='chapter' />
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span></div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>CHAPTER II</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1em;margin-bottom:30px;'>THE LITTLE SIGNORINA</p>
+<p>Blythe lay awake a long time that
+night, thinking, not of the bridge nor
+of the &#8220;crow&#8217;s nest,&#8221; not of the Captain
+nor of the supposed Hugh Dalton, but of
+the child in the steerage. How stifling it
+must be down there to-night! It was
+hot and airless enough here, where Blythe
+had a stateroom to herself,&mdash;separated
+from her mother&#8217;s by a narrow passageway,
+and where the port-holes had been
+open all day. Now, to be sure, they were
+closed; for the sea was rising, and already
+the spray dashed against the thick glass.
+Oh, how must it be in the steerage! And
+how did it happen that that nice woman
+had been obliged to take her little Signorina
+in such squalid fashion to <i>la bella
+Italia</i>?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></p>
+<p>Blythe fell asleep with the sound of
+creaking timbers in her ears, as the good
+ship strained against the rising sea, and
+when the clear note of the cornet, playing
+the morning hymn, roused her from her
+dreams, the roaring of wind and waves
+sent her thoughts with a shock of pity to
+the little steerage passenger shut up below.
+For with such a sea as this the waves
+must be sweeping the lower deck, and
+there could be no release for the poor
+little prisoner.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Vhy you not report that veather from
+the lookout?&#8221; the Captain asked with
+mock severity as Blythe appeared at the
+breakfast table.</p>
+<p>The racks were on, and the knives and
+forks had begun their time-honoured minuet
+within their funny little fences. The
+amateur &#8220;lookout&#8221; glanced across the
+table at her friend and ally the poet, who
+nodded encouragingly as she answered:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, we knew the Captain knew all
+about it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You think de Capit&auml;n know pretty
+much eferything, <i>wie es scheint</i>!&#8221; was the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span>
+reply, uttered in so deep a guttural that
+Blythe knew the old Viking did not take
+very seriously the &#8220;bit of weather&#8221; that
+seemed to her so violent. In fact, he
+owned as much before he had finished his
+second cup of coffee.</p>
+<p>Yet when she came up the companionway
+after breakfast, she found a stout rope
+stretched across the deck from stanchion
+to stanchion to hold on by, the steamer
+chairs all tied fast to the rail that runs
+around the deckhouse, and every preparation
+made for rough weather.</p>
+<p>It was not what a sailor would have
+called a storm, but the sea was changed
+enough from the smiling calm of yesterday.
+Not many passengers were on
+deck, half a dozen, only, reclining in their
+chairs in the lee of the deckhouse, close
+reefed in their heavy wraps; while here
+and there a pair of indefatigable promenaders
+lurched and slid along the heaving
+deck arm in arm, or clung to any chance
+support in a desperate effort to keep their
+footing.</p>
+<p>Blythe had to buffet her way lustily as
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span>
+she turned a corner to windward. Holding
+her golf-cape close about her and jamming
+her felt hat well down on her head,
+she made her way to the narrow passageway
+forward of the wheel-house where one
+looks down into the steerage. The waves
+were dashing across the deck, which was
+deserted excepting for one or two dark-browed
+men crouched under shelter of
+the forecastle.</p>
+<p>There was a light, drizzling rain, and
+now and then the spray struck against her
+face. Blythe looked up at the &#8220;crow&#8217;s
+nest,&#8221; which was describing strange geometrical
+figures against the sky. The
+lookouts in their oil-coats did not seem in
+the least to mind their erratic passage
+through space. She wished it were eight-bells
+and time for them to change watch;
+it was always such fun to see them running
+up the ladder, hand over hand, their
+quick, monkey-like figures silhouetted
+against the sky.</p>
+<p>How nobly the great ship forged ahead
+against an angry sea, climbing now to the
+crest of a big wave, and giving a long,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span>
+shuddering shake of determination before
+plunging down into a black, swirling hollow!
+And how the wind and the waters
+bellowed together!</p>
+<p>The Captain was on the bridge in his
+rubber coat and sou&#8217;-wester. He had said
+this would not last long, and he had
+stopped for a second cup of coffee before
+leaving the table. All the same, Blythe
+would not have ventured to accost him
+now, even if he had passed her way.</p>
+<p>Presently she returned under shelter of
+the awning and let Gustav tuck her up in
+her chair to dry off. And Mr. DeWitt
+came and sat down beside her and instructed
+her in the delectable game of
+&#8220;Buried Cities,&#8221; in which she became
+speedily so proficient that, taking her cue
+from the lettering on one of the lifeboats,
+she discovered the city of Bremen lying
+&#8220;buried&#8221; in &#8220;the som<i>bre men</i>ace of the
+sea!&#8221;</p>
+<p>After a while, Gustav appeared before
+them, bearing a huge tray of <i>bouillon</i>
+and sandwiches, with which he was striking
+the most eccentric angles; and Blythe
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span>
+discovered that she was preposterously
+hungry. And while her nose was still
+buried in her cup, she espied over its rim
+a pair of legs planted well apart, in the
+cause of equilibrium, and the big, pleasant
+voice of Mr. Grey made itself heard above
+wind and sea, saying, &#8220;Guess where I&#8217;ve
+been.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the smoking-room,&#8221; was the prompt
+reply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Guess again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;On the bridge,&mdash;only you wouldn&#8217;t
+dare!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Once more.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I know,&#8221; Blythe cried, setting her
+thick cup down on the deck, and tumbling
+off her chair in a snarl of steamer-rugs;
+&#8220;You&#8217;ve been down in the steerage finding
+out about the little Signorina!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who told you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You did! You looked so pleased with
+yourself! Oh, do tell me all about her!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I&#8217;ve had a long talk with the
+woman. Shall we walk up and down?&#8221;</p>
+<p>And off they went, with that absence
+of ceremony which characterises life on
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span>
+shipboard, leaving Mr. DeWitt to bury
+his cities all unaided and unapplauded.
+Then, as the two walked up and down,&mdash;literally
+up and down, for the ship was
+pitching a bit, and sometimes they were
+labouring up-hill, and sometimes they
+were running down a steep incline,&mdash;as
+they walked up and down Mr. Grey told
+his story.</p>
+<p>The woman, Giuditta, had confided to
+him all she knew, and he had surmised
+more. Giuditta had known the family
+only since the time, three years ago,
+when she had been called in to take care
+of the little Cecilia during the illness of
+the Signora. The father had been a
+handsome good-for-nothing, who had got
+shot in a street row in that quarter of
+New York known as &#8220;Little Italy.&#8221; He
+was nothing,&mdash;<i>niente</i>, <i>niente</i>;&mdash;but the
+Signora! Oh, if the gentleman could but
+have known the Signora, so beautiful, so
+patient, so sad! Giuditta had stayed with
+her and shared her fortunes, which were
+all, alas! misfortunes,&mdash;and had nursed
+her through a long decline. But never
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span>
+a word had she told of her own origin,&mdash;the
+beautiful Signora,&mdash;nor had her
+father&#8217;s name ever passed her lips. Had
+she known that she was dying, perhaps
+then, for the child&#8217;s sake, she might have
+forgotten her pride. But she was always
+thinking she should get well,&mdash;and then,
+one day, she died!</p>
+<p>There was very little left,&mdash;only a few
+dollars; but among the squalid properties
+of the pitiful little stage where the poor
+young thing had enacted the last act of
+her tragedy, was one picture, a <i>Madonna</i>,
+with the painter&#8217;s name, G. Bellini, just
+decipherable. It was a little picture,
+twelve inches by sixteen, in a dingy old
+frame, and not a pretty picture at
+that. But a kind man, a dealer in antiquities,
+had given Giuditta one hundred
+dollars for it. &#8220;Think of that, Signore!
+One hundred dollars for an ugly little
+black picture no bigger than that!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose,&#8221; Mr. Grey remarked, as
+they stood balancing themselves at an
+angle of many degrees,&mdash;&#8220;I suppose that
+the picture was genuine,&mdash;else the man
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span>
+would hardly have paid one hundred
+dollars for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And would it be worth more than
+that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;A trifle,&#8221; he replied, rather grimly.
+&#8220;Somewhere among the thousands.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But why should they have kept such
+a picture when they were so poor? Why
+didn&#8217;t they sell it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That would hardly have occurred to
+them. It was evidently a family heirloom
+that the girl had taken with her because
+she loved it. I doubt if she guessed its
+value. A Bellini! A Giovanni Bellini,
+in a New York tenement house! Think
+of it! And now I suppose some millionaire
+has got it. Likely enough somebody
+who doesn&#8217;t know enough to buy
+his own pictures! Horrible idea! Horrible!&#8221;
+and Mr. Grey strode along, all but
+snorting with rage at the thought.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But tell me more about the little
+girl,&#8221; Blythe entreated, wishing the wind
+wouldn&#8217;t blow her words out of her
+mouth so rudely. &#8220;Her name is Cecilia,
+you say?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; Cecilia. Dopo is the name they
+went by, but the nurse doesn&#8217;t think it
+genuine. Her idea is that her Signora
+was the daughter of some great family,
+and got herself disowned by marrying
+an opera singer who subsequently made
+a fiasco and dropped his name with
+his fame. She doesn&#8217;t think Dopo ever
+was a family name. It means &#8216;after,&#8217; you
+know, and they may have adopted it for
+its ironical significance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the poor lady died and never
+told!&#8221; Blythe panted, as they toiled painfully
+up-hill with the rain beating in their
+faces.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and&mdash;look out! hold tight!&#8221; for
+suddenly the slant of the deck was reversed,
+and they came coasting down to
+an impromptu seat on a bench.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It seems,&#8221; Mr. Grey went on, when
+they had resumed their somewhat arduous
+promenade,&mdash;&#8220;it seems the woman, Giuditta,
+is quite alone in the world and has
+been longing to get back to Italy. So
+she easily persuaded herself that she could
+find the child&#8217;s family and establish her in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span>
+high life. Giuditta has an uncommonly
+high idea of high life,&#8221; he added. &#8220;I
+think she imagines that somebody in a
+court train and a coronet will come to
+meet her Signorina at the pier in Genoa.
+Poor things! There&#8217;ll be a rude awakening!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But we won&#8217;t let it be rude!&#8221; Blythe
+protested. &#8220;We must do something about
+it. Can&#8217;t you think of anything to do?&#8221;</p>
+<p>They were standing now, clinging to
+the friendly rope stretched across the
+deck, shoulder high.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Giuditta&#8217;s plan,&#8221; Mr. Grey replied,
+&#8220;is the na&iuml;ve one of appealing to the
+Queen about it. And, seriously, I think
+it may be worth while to ask the American
+Minister to make inquiries. For there
+is, of course, a bare chance that the family
+may be known at Court. In the meantime&#8211;&#8211;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In the meantime,&#8221; Blythe interposed,
+&#8220;we&#8217;ve got to get her out of the steerage!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But how?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Mamma will arrange that. We&#8217;ll
+just make a cabin passenger of her, and I
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span>
+can take her in with me in my stateroom.
+Oh! how happy she will be, lying in my
+steamer chair, with that dear Gustav to
+wait on her! I must go down at once
+and get Mamma to say yes!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you think she will?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know she will! She is always doing
+nice things. If you really knew her you
+wouldn&#8217;t doubt it!&#8221; And with that the
+young optimist vanished in her accustomed
+whirl of golf-cape.</p>
+<p>If faith can move mountains, it is perhaps
+no wonder that the implicit and energetic
+faith of which Blythe Halliday was
+possessed proved equal to the removal of
+a small child from one quarter to another
+of the big ship. The three persons concerned
+in bringing about the change were
+easily won over; for Mrs. Halliday was
+quite of Blythe&#8217;s mind in the matter, Mr.
+Grey had little difficulty in bringing the
+Captain to their point of view, while, as
+for Giuditta, she hailed the event as the
+first step in the transformation of her
+small Signorina into the little &#8220;great
+lady&#8221; she was born to be.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span></p>
+<p>Accordingly, close upon luncheon time,
+when the sun was just breaking through
+the clouds, and the sea, true to the Captain&#8217;s
+prediction, was already beginning to
+subside, the tiny Signorina was carried, in
+the strong arms of Gustav, up the steep
+gangway by the wheel-house, where Blythe
+and her mother, Mr. DeWitt and the poet,
+to say nothing of Captain Seemann himself,
+formed an impromptu reception committee
+for her little ladyship.</p>
+<p>As the child was set on her feet at the
+head of the gangway, she turned to throw
+a kiss down upon her faithful Giuditta,
+and then, without the slightest hesitation,
+she placed her hand in Blythe&#8217;s, and
+walked away with her.</p>
+<p>That evening there was a dance on
+board the <i>Lorelei</i>; for it had been but the
+fringe of a storm which they had crossed,
+and the sea was again taking on its long,
+easy swell.</p>
+<p>The deck presented a festal appearance
+for the occasion. Rows of Japanese lanterns
+were strung from side to side against
+the white background of awning and deckhouse,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span>
+and the flags of many nations lent
+their gay colours to the pretty scene. The
+ship&#8217;s orchestra was in its element, playing
+with a &#8220;go&#8221; and rhythm which seemed
+caught from the pulsing movement of the
+ship itself.</p>
+<p>As Blythe, with Mr. DeWitt, who had
+been a famous dancer in his day, led off
+the Virginia Reel, she wondered how it
+would strike the sailors of a passing brig,&mdash;this
+gay apparition of light and music,
+riding the great, dark, solemn sea.</p>
+<p>The dance itself was rather a staid,
+middle-aged affair, for Blythe was the only
+young girl on board, and none but the
+youngest or the surest-footed could put
+much spirit into a dance where the law of
+gravitation was apparently changing base
+from moment to moment. Blythe and
+her partner, however, took little account
+of the moving floor beneath their feet, or
+the hesitating demeanour of their companions.
+One after another, even the most
+reluctant and self-distrustful of the revellers
+found themselves caught up into active
+participation in the figure.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span></p>
+<p>In a quiet corner of the deck sat Mrs.
+Halliday, with little Cecilia beside her,
+snugly stowed away in a nest of steamer-rugs;
+for they could not bear to take her
+below, out of the fresh, invigorating air.
+Their little guest spoke hardly any English,
+but, although Mrs. Halliday was under the
+impression that she herself spoke Italian,
+the child seemed more conversable in
+Blythe&#8217;s company than in that of any one
+else, not excepting Mr. Grey, about whose
+linguistic accomplishments there could be
+no question.</p>
+<p>Accordingly when, the Virginia Reel
+being finished, Blythe came and sat on the
+foot of the little girl&#8217;s chair, they fell into
+an animated conversation, each in her own
+tongue. And presently, during a pause
+in the music, the Italian Count chanced to
+pass their way, and, stopping in his solitary
+promenade, appeared to give ear to their
+talk.</p>
+<p>Suddenly he stooped, and, looking into
+the animated face of the child, inquired
+in his own tongue; &#8220;What is thy name,
+little one?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span></p>
+<p>But when the pure, liquid, childish voice
+answered &#8220;Cecilia Dopo,&#8221; he merely lifted
+his hat and, bowing ceremoniously, passed
+on.</p>
+<p>Mr. Grey, who had watched the little
+scene from a distance, joined the group
+a moment later and, taking a vacant chair
+beside Mrs. Halliday, remarked:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think we shall have to cultivate the
+old gentleman. He might be induced to
+lend a hand in behalf of this young person.
+They are both Florentines,&#8221; he added,
+thoughtfully, &#8220;and Florentine society is
+not large.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you really believe the nurse is
+right about the child?&#8221; Mrs. Halliday
+asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I shouldn&#8217;t dare say that the
+mother was a great lady,&#8221; he returned;
+&#8220;but there is certainly something high-bred
+about the little thing.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;They often have that air,&#8221; Mrs.
+Halliday demurred,&mdash;&#8220;even the beggar
+children.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; to our eyes. But, do you know,
+I rather think the Italians themselves can
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span>
+tell the difference. I would rather trust
+Giuditta&#8217;s judgment than my own. Besides,&#8221;
+he added, after a long pause, during
+which he had been watching the
+expressive face of the child. &#8220;Besides,&mdash;there&#8217;s
+that Giovanni Bellini. That sort
+of thing doesn&#8217;t often stray into low
+society.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At this juncture the tall Italian moved
+again into their neighbourhood, and stood,
+at a point where the awning had been
+drawn back, gazing, with a preoccupied
+air, out to sea.</p>
+<p>Rising from his seat, Mr. Grey approached
+him, remarking abruptly, and
+with a jerk of the head toward Cecilia,
+&#8220;Florentine, is she not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Sicuro</i>,&#8221; was the grave reply; upon
+which the Count moved away, to be seen
+no more that evening.</p>
+<p>As the Englishman rejoined them after
+this laconic interview, Blythe greeted him
+with a new theory.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know,&#8221; she said, &#8220;I used to
+think the Count was haughty and disagreeable,
+but I have changed my mind.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That only shows how susceptible you
+good Republicans are to any sign of attention
+from the nobility,&#8221; was the teasing
+reply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps you are right,&#8221; Blythe returned,
+with the fair-mindedness which
+distinguished her. &#8220;You know I never
+saw a titled person before, excepting one
+red-headed English Lord, who hadn&#8217;t any
+manners. I&#8217;ve often thought I should
+like, of all things, to know a King or
+Queen really well!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t say so!&#8221; Mr. Grey laughed.
+&#8220;And what&#8217;s your opinion now, of the
+old gentleman, since he deigned to interrupt
+your conversation?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I believe he is unhappy.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What makes you think so?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s an unhappy look away back
+in his eyes. I never looked in before,&mdash;and
+then&#8211;&#8211;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And then&#8211;&#8211;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s something about his voice.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; Tuscan, you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, is that it? Well, any way, I like
+him!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;If that&#8217;s the case, perhaps you could
+make better headway with him than I.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I don&#8217;t speak Italian.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perhaps you speak French.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know my conjugations,&#8221; was the
+modest admission.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I&#8217;m sure he would be enchanted
+to hear them,&#8221; Mr. Grey laughed, as the
+orchestra struck into the familiar music of
+the Lancers, causing him to beat a retreat
+into the smoking-room.</p>
+<p>And while Blythe danced gaily and heartily
+with a boy somewhat younger than
+herself, and not quite as tall, her little prot&eacute;g&eacute;e
+fell into a deep sleep. And presently,
+the dance being over, the faithful Gustav
+carried her down to Blythe&#8217;s stateroom,
+where she was snugly tucked away in the
+gently rocking cradle of the lower berth.</p>
+<p>As for Blythe, thus relegated to the
+upper berth, she entered promptly into
+an agreeable dreamland, where she found
+herself speaking Italian fluently, and where
+she discovered, to her extreme satisfaction,
+that the Queen of Italy was her bosom
+friend!</p>
+<hr class='chapter' />
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>CHAPTER III</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1em;margin-bottom:30px;'>A NEW DAWN</p>
+<p>It was pretty to see the little Signorina
+revive under the favouring influences
+of prosperity; and indeed the soft airs of
+the southern seas were never sweeter nor
+more caressing than those which came to
+console our voyagers for their short-lived
+storm.</p>
+<p>Life was full of interest and excitement
+for the little girl. The heavy lassitude
+of her steerage days had fallen from her,
+and already that first morning a delicate
+glow of returning vigour touched
+the little cheek.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s picking up, isn&#8217;t she?&#8221; Mr.
+DeWitt remarked, as he joined Blythe and
+the child at the head of the steerage gangway,
+where the little one was throwing
+enthusiastic kisses and musical Italian
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span>
+phrases down upon the hardly less radiant
+Giuditta.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes!&#8221; was the confident reply.
+&#8220;She&#8217;s a different child since her saltwater
+bath and her big bowl of oatmeal.
+Mamma says she really has a splendid
+physique, only she was smothering down
+there in the steerage.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then Mr. DeWitt stooped and, lifting
+the child, set her on the railing, where
+she could get a better view of her faithful
+friend below.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There! How do you like that?&#8221; he
+inquired.</p>
+<p>Upon which the little girl, finding herself
+unexpectedly on a level with Blythe&#8217;s
+face, put up her tiny hand and stroked
+her cheek.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Like-a Signorina,&#8221; she remarked with
+apparent irrelevance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh! You do, do you? Well, she&#8217;s
+a nice girl.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nice-a girl-a,&#8221; the child repeated, adding
+a vowel, Italian fashion, to each word.</p>
+<p>Then, with an appreciative look into
+the pleasant, whiskered countenance,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span>
+whose owner was holding her so securely
+on her precarious perch, she pressed her
+little hand gently against his waistcoat,
+and gravely remarked, &#8220;Nice-a girl-a,
+<i>anche il Signore</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So! I&#8217;m a nice girl too, am I?&#8221; the
+old gentleman replied, much elated with
+the compliment.</p>
+<p>And Giuditta, down below, perceiving
+that her Signorina was making new conquests,
+snatched her bright handkerchief
+from her head, and waved it gaily; whereupon
+a score of the steerage passengers,
+seized with her enthusiasm, waved their
+hats and handkerchiefs and shouted;
+&#8220;<i>Buon&#8217; viaggio, Signorina! Buon&#8217;
+viaggio</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And the little recipient of this ovation
+became so excited that she almost
+jumped out of the detaining arms of Mr.
+DeWitt, who, being of a cautious disposition,
+made haste to set her down again;
+upon which they all walked aft, under the
+big awning.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She makes friends easily,&#8221; Mr. Grey
+remarked, later in the morning, as he and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span>
+Blythe paused a moment in their game of
+ring-toss. The child was standing, clinging
+to the hand of a tall woman in black,
+a grave, silent Southerner who had hitherto
+kept quite to herself.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; Blythe rejoined, &#8220;but she is
+fastidious. She will listen to no blandishments
+from any one whom she doesn&#8217;t
+take a fancy to. That good-natured,
+talkative Mr. Distel has been trying all
+day to get her to come to him, but she always
+gives him the slip.&#8221; And Blythe, in
+her preoccupation, proceeded to throw
+two rings out of three wide of the
+mark.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Has the Count taken any more notice
+of her?&#8221; Mr. Grey inquired, deftly
+tossing the smallest of all the rings over
+the top of the post.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Apparently not; but she takes a great
+deal of notice of him. See, she&#8217;s watching
+him now. I should not be a bit surprised
+if she were to speak to him of her
+own accord one of these days.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There are not many days left,&#8221; her
+companion remarked. &#8220;The Captain says
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span>
+we shall make Cape St. Vincent before
+night.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, how fast the voyage is going!&#8221;
+Blythe sighed.</p>
+<p>Yet, sorry as she would be to have the
+voyage over, no one was more enchanted
+than Blythe when Cape St. Vincent rose
+out of the sea, marking the end of the
+Atlantic passage. It was just at sundown,
+and the beautiful headland, bathed
+in a golden light, stood, like the mystic
+battlements of a veritable &#8220;Castle in
+Spain,&#8221; against a luminous sky.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mamma,&#8221; Blythe asked, &#8220;did you ever
+see anything more beautiful than that?&#8221;</p>
+<p>They were standing at the port railing,
+with the little girl between them, watching
+the great cliffs across the deep blue sea.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nothing more beautiful than that
+seen through your eyes, Blythe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I believe you do see it through my
+eyes, Mumsey,&#8221; Blythe answered, thoughtfully,
+&#8220;just as I am getting to see things
+through Cecilia&#8217;s eyes. I never realised
+before how things open up when you look
+at them that way.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></p>
+<p>And Mrs. Halliday smiled a quiet, inward
+smile that Blythe understood with a
+new understanding.</p>
+<p>They took little Cecilia ashore with
+them at Gibraltar the next morning, and
+again Blythe experienced the truth of her
+new theory.</p>
+<p>It was our heroine&#8217;s first glimpse of
+Europe, and no delectable detail of their
+hour&#8217;s drive, no exotic bloom, no strange
+Moorish costume, no enchanting vista of
+cliff or sea, was lost upon her. Yet she
+felt that even her enthusiasm paled before
+the deep, speechless ecstasy of the little
+Cecilia. It was as if, in the tropical glow
+and fragrant warmth, the child were
+breathing her native air,&mdash;as if she had
+come to her own.</p>
+<p>On their return, as the grimy old tug
+which had carried them across the harbour
+came alongside the big steamer,
+the child suddenly exclaimed, &#8220;<i>Ecco, il
+Signore!</i>&#8221; and, following the direction of
+her gesture, their eyes met those of the
+Count looking down upon them. He instantly
+moved away, and they had soon
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span>
+forgotten him, in the pleasurable excitement
+of bestowing upon Giuditta the
+huge, hat-shaped basket filled with fruit
+which they had brought for her.</p>
+<p>Later in the day, as they weighed anchor
+and sailed out from the shadow of
+the great Rock, Blythe found herself
+standing with Mr. Grey at the stern-rail
+of their own deck, watching the face of
+the mighty cliff as it changed with the
+varying perspective.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh! I wish I were a poet or an artist
+or something!&#8221; she cried.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you take that monstrous fortress
+for a subject?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, and I should do something so
+splendid with it that nobody would dare
+to be satirical!&#8221; and she glanced defiantly
+at her companion, whose good-humoured
+countenance was wrinkling with amusement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let us see,&#8221; he said. &#8220;How would
+this do?&#8221; And he gravely repeated the
+following:</p>
+<table style='margin: auto' summary=''><tr><td>
+<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;'>
+&#8220;There once was a fortress named Gib,<br />
+Whose manners were haughty and&mdash;</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span></div>
+<p>What rhymes with Gib?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Glib!&#8221; Blythe cried.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good!</p>
+<table style='margin: auto' summary=''><tr><td>
+<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;'>
+Whose manners were haughty and glib.<br />
+<span style='margin-left: 3.90625em;'>If you tried to get in,</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 3.90625em;'>She replied with a grin,&mdash;</span></p>
+</td></tr></table>
+<p>Quick! Give me another rhyme for Gib.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rib!&#8221; Blythe suggested, audaciously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Excellent, excellent! Rib! Now,
+how does it go?</p>
+<table style='margin: auto' summary=''><tr><td>
+<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;'>
+There once was a fortress named Gib,<br />
+Whose manners were haughty and glib!<br />
+<span style='margin-left: 3.90625em;'>If you tried to get in,</span><br />
+<span style='margin-left: 3.90625em;'>She replied, with a grin,</span><br />
+&#8216;I&#8217;m Great Britain&#8217;s impregnable rib!&#8217;</p>
+</td></tr></table>
+<p>Rather neat! Don&#8217;t you think?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;O Mr. Grey!&#8221; Blythe cried. &#8220;You&#8217;ve
+got to write that in my voyage-book! It&#8217;s
+the&#8211;&#8211;&#8221;</p>
+<p>At that moment, a gesture from her
+companion caused her to turn and look
+behind her. There, only a few feet from
+where they were standing, but with his
+back to them, was the Count, sitting on
+one of the long, stationary benches fastened
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span>
+against the hatchway, while just at
+his knees stood little Cecilia. She was
+balancing herself with some difficulty on
+the gently swaying deck, holding out for
+his acceptance a small bunch of violets,
+which one of the market-women at Gibraltar
+had bestowed upon her.</p>
+<p>As he appeared to hesitate: &#8220;<i>Prendili!</i>&#8221;
+she cried, with pretty wilfulness. Upon
+which he took the little offering, and
+lifted it to his face.</p>
+<p>The child stood her ground resolutely,
+and presently, &#8220;Put me up!&#8221; she commanded,
+still in her own sweet tongue.</p>
+<p>Obediently he lifted her, and placed
+her beside him on the seat, where she sat
+clinging with one little hand to the sleeve
+of his coat to keep from slipping down,
+with the gentle dip of the vessel.</p>
+<p>The two sat, for a few minutes, quite
+silent, gazing off toward the African
+coast, and Blythe and her companion
+drew nearer, filled with curiosity as to the
+outcome of the interview.</p>
+<p>Presently the child looked up into the
+Count&#8217;s face and inquired, with the pretty
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span>
+Tuscan accent which sounded like an echo
+of his own question on the evening of the
+dance:</p>
+<p>&#8220;What is thy name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Giovanni Battista Allamiraviglia.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Cecilia repeated after him the long,
+musical name, without missing a syllable,
+and with a certain approving inflection
+which evidently had an ingratiating effect
+upon the many-syllabled aristocrat; for he
+lifted his carefully gloved hand and passed
+it gently over the little head.</p>
+<p>The child took the caress very naturally,
+and when, presently, the hand returned to
+the knee, she got possession of it, and began
+crossing the kid fingers one over the
+other, quite undisturbed by the fact that
+they invariably fell apart again as soon as
+she loosed her hold.</p>
+<p>At this juncture the two eavesdroppers
+moved discreetly away, and Blythe, leaving
+her fellow-conspirator far behind, flew
+to her mother&#8217;s side, crying:</p>
+<p>&#8220;O Mumsey! She&#8217;s simply winding
+him round her finger, and there&#8217;s nothing
+he won&#8217;t be ready to do for us now!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, dear; I&#8217;m delighted to hear it,&#8221;
+Mrs. Halliday replied, with what Blythe
+was wont to call her &#8220;benignant and
+amused&#8221; expression. &#8220;And after a while
+you will tell me what you are talking
+about!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Blythe, nothing daunted, only appealed
+to Mr. Grey, who had just caught
+up with her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You agree with me, Mr. Grey; don&#8217;t
+you?&#8221; she insisted.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Perfectly, and in every particular.
+Mrs. Halliday, your daughter and I have
+been eavesdropping, and we have come
+to confess.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Whereupon Blythe dropped upon the
+foot of her mother&#8217;s chair, Mr. Grey established
+himself in the chair adjoining,
+and they gave their somewhat bewildered
+auditor the benefit of a few facts.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I really believe,&#8221; the Englishman remarked,
+in conclusion,&mdash;&#8220;I really believe
+that haughty old dago can help us if anybody
+can. And when your engaging
+young prot&eacute;g&eacute;e has completed her conquest,&mdash;to-morrow,
+it may be, or the day
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span>
+after, for she&#8217;s making quick work of it,&mdash;we&#8217;ll
+see what can be done with him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And, after all, what could have been
+more natural than the attraction which,
+from that time forth, manifested itself between
+the Count and his small countrywoman?
+If the little girl, in making her
+very marked advances, had been governed
+by the unwavering instinct which always
+guided her choice of companions, the old
+man, for his part, could not but find refreshment,
+after his long, solitary voyage,
+in the pretty Tuscan prattle of the child.
+Most Italians love children, and the Count
+Giovanni Battista Allamiraviglia appeared
+to be no exception to his race.</p>
+<p>The two would sit together by the hour,
+absorbed, neither in the lovely sights of
+this wonderful Mediterranean voyage, nor
+in the movements of those about them,
+but simply and solely in one another.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s telling her own story better
+than we could do,&#8221; Mr. Grey used to say.</p>
+<p>It was now no unusual thing to see the
+child established on the old gentleman&#8217;s
+knee, and once Blythe found her fast
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span>
+asleep in his arms. But it was not until
+the very last day of the voyage that the
+most wonderful thing of all occurred.</p>
+<p>The sea was smooth as a lake, and all
+day they had been sailing the length of
+the Riviera. All day people had been
+giving names to the gleaming white points
+on the distant, dreamy shore,&mdash;Nice, Mentone,
+San Remo,&mdash;names fragrant with
+association even to the mind of the young
+traveller, who knew them only from books
+and letters.</p>
+<p>Blythe and the little girl were sitting,
+somewhat apart from the others, on the
+long bench by the hatchway where Cecilia
+had first laid siege to the Count&#8217;s affections,
+and Blythe was allowing the child to
+look through the large end of her field-glass,&mdash;a
+source of endless entertainment
+to them both. Suddenly Cecilia gave a
+little shriek of delight at the way her good
+friend, Mr. Grey, dwindled into a pigmy;
+upon which the Count, attracted apparently
+by her voice, left his chair and came
+and sat down beside them.</p>
+<p>As he lifted his hat, with a polite
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span>
+&#8220;<i>Permetta, Signorina</i>,&#8221; Blythe noticed, for
+the first time on the whole voyage, that
+he was without his gloves. Perhaps the
+general humanising of his attitude, through
+intercourse with the child, had caused him
+to relax this little point of punctilio.</p>
+<p>Cecilia, meanwhile, had promptly climbed
+upon his knee, and now, laying hold of
+one of the ungloved hands, she began
+twisting a large seal ring which presented
+itself to her mind as a pleasing novelty.
+Presently her attention seemed arrested
+by the device of the seal, and she murmured
+softly, &#8220;<i>Fideliter</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Blythe might not have distinguished the
+word as being Latin rather than Italian,
+had she not been struck by the change of
+countenance in the wearer of the ring.
+He turned to her abruptly, and asked, in
+French:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Does she read?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; Blythe answered, thankful that
+she was not obliged to muster her &#8220;conjugations&#8221;
+for the emergency!</p>
+<p>There was a swift interchange of question
+and answer between the old man and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span>
+the child, of which Blythe understood but
+little. She heard Cecilia say &#8220;Mamma,&#8221;
+in answer to an imperative question; the
+words &#8220;<i>orologio</i>&#8221; and &#8220;<i>perduto</i>&#8221; were intelligible
+to her. She was sure that the
+crest and motto formed the subject of discussion,
+and it was distinctly borne in upon
+her that the same device&mdash;a mailed hand
+and arm with the word <i>Fideliter</i> beneath
+it&mdash;had been engraved on a lost
+watch which had belonged to the child&#8217;s
+mother. But it was all surmise on her
+part, and she could hardly refrain from
+shouting aloud to Mr. Grey, standing over
+there, in dense unconsciousness, to come
+quickly and interpret this exasperating
+tongue, which sounded so pretty, and
+eluded her understanding so hopelessly.</p>
+<p>The mind of the Count seemed to be
+turning in the same direction, for, after a
+little, he arose abruptly, and, setting the
+child down beside Blythe, walked straight
+across the deck to the Englishman, whom
+he accosted so unceremoniously that
+Blythe&#8217;s sense of wonders unfolding was
+but confirmed.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span></p>
+<p>The two men turned and walked away
+to a more secluded part of the deck, where
+they remained, deep in conversation, for
+what seemed to Blythe a long, long time.
+She felt as if she must not leave her seat,
+lest she miss the thread of the plot,&mdash;for
+a plot it surely was, with its unravelling
+close at hand.</p>
+<p>At last she saw the two men striding
+forward in the direction of the steerage,
+and with a conspicuous absence of that
+aimlessness which marks the usual promenade
+at sea.</p>
+<p>The little girl was again amusing herself
+with the glasses, and, as the two arbiters
+of her destiny passed her line of
+vision, she laughed aloud at their swiftly
+diminishing forms. Impelled by a curious
+feeling that the child must take some
+serious part in this crucial moment of her
+destiny, Blythe quietly took the glasses
+from her and said, as she had done each
+night when she put her little charge to bed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will you say a little prayer, Cecilia?&#8221;</p>
+<p>And the child, wondering, yet perfectly
+docile, pulled out the little mother-of-pearl
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span>
+rosary that she always wore under her
+dress, and reverently murmured one of
+the prayers her mother had taught her.
+After which, as if beguiled by the association
+of ideas into thinking it bedtime, she
+curled herself up on the bench, and, with
+her head in Blythe&#8217;s lap, fell fast asleep.</p>
+<p>And Blythe sat, lost in thought, absently
+stroking the little head, until suddenly
+Mr. Grey appeared before her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have been outrageously treated,
+Miss Blythe,&#8221; he declared, seating himself
+beside her, &#8220;but I had to let the old fellow
+have his head.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, don&#8217;t tell me anything, till we
+find Mamma,&#8221; Blythe cried. &#8220;It&#8217;s all
+her doing, you know,&mdash;letting me have
+Cecilia up here,&#8221; and, gently rousing the
+sleeper, she said, &#8220;Come, Cecilia. We
+are going to find the Signora.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you consider it absolutely certain?&#8221;
+Mrs. Halliday asked, when Mr.
+Grey had finished his tale. She was far
+more surprised than Blythe, for she had
+had a longer experience of life, to teach
+her a distrust in fairy-stories.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;There does not seem a doubt. The
+child&#8217;s familiarity with the crest was striking
+enough, but that Bellini <i>Madonna</i>
+clinches it. And then, Giuditta&#8217;s description
+of both father and mother seems to
+be unmistakable.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh! To think of his finding the
+child that he had never heard of, just
+as he had given up the search for her
+mother!&#8221; Blythe exclaimed.</p>
+<p>Cecilia was again playing happily with
+the glasses, paying no heed to her companions.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The strangest thing of all to me,&#8221;
+Mrs. Halliday declared, &#8220;is his relenting
+toward his daughter after all these years.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You must not forget that Fate had
+been pounding him pretty hard,&#8221; Mr.
+Grey interposed. &#8220;When a man loses in
+one year two of his children, and the only
+grandchild he knows anything about, it&#8217;s
+not surprising that he should soften a bit
+toward the only child he has left.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They were still discussing this wonderful
+subject, when, half an hour later, the
+tall figure of the Count emerged from the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span>
+companionway. As he bent his steps toward
+the other side of the deck he was
+visible only to the child, who stood facing
+the rest of the group. She promptly
+dropped the glasses upon Blythe&#8217;s knee,
+and crying, &#8220;<i>Il Signore!</i>&#8221; ran and took
+hold of his hand; whereupon the two
+walked away together and were not seen
+for a long, long time.</p>
+<p>Then Blythe and Mr. Grey went up
+on the bridge and told the Captain. No
+one else was to know&mdash;not even Mr.
+DeWitt&mdash;until after they had landed, but
+the Captain was certainly entitled to their
+confidence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For,&#8221; Blythe said, &#8220;you know, Captain
+Seemann, it never would have happened if
+you had not sent us up in the crow&#8217;s nest
+that day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Upon which the Captain, beaming his
+brightest, and letting his cigar go out
+in the damp breeze for the sake of making
+his little speech, declared:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I know one thing! It would neffer
+haf happen at all, if I had sent anybody
+else up in the crow&#8217;s nest but just Miss
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span>
+Blythe Halliday with her bright eyes and
+her kind heart!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And Blythe was so overpowered by this
+tremendous compliment from the Captain
+of the <i>Lorelei</i> that she had not a word to
+say for herself.</p>
+<p>That evening Mr. Grey inscribed his
+nonsense-verse in Blythe&#8217;s book; and not
+that only, for to those classic lines he
+added the following:</p>
+<p>&#8220;The above was composed in collaboration
+with his esteemed fellow-passenger,
+Miss Blythe Halliday, by Hugh Dalton,
+<i>alias</i> &#8216;Mr. Grey.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was, of course, a great distinction to
+own such an autograph as that; yet somehow
+the kind, witty Mr. Grey had been so
+delightful just as he was, that Blythe hardly
+felt as if the famous name added so very
+much to her satisfaction in his acquaintance.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knew it all the time,&#8221; she declared,
+quietly; &#8220;but it didn&#8217;t make any difference.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s worth hearing,&#8221; said Hugh
+Dalton.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>They parted from the little Cecilia at
+sunrise, but with promises on both sides
+of a speedy meeting among the hills of
+Tuscany.</p>
+<p>The old Count, with the child&#8217;s hand
+clasped in his, paused as he reached the
+gangway, at the foot of which the triumphant
+Giuditta was awaiting them, and
+pointed toward the rosy east which was
+flushing the beautiful bay a deep crimson.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Signorina,&#8221; he said in his careful
+French, made more careful by his effort
+to control his voice,&mdash;&#8220;Signorina, it is to
+you that I owe a new dawn,&mdash;to you and
+to your honoured mother.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then, as Mr. DeWitt and Mr. Grey
+approached, to tell them that everything
+was in readiness for them to land, Blythe
+turned, with the light of the sunrise in her
+face, and said, under her breath, so that
+only her mother could hear:</p>
+<p>&#8220;O Mumsey! How beautiful the world
+is, with you and me right in the very middle
+of it!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='ARTFUL_MADGE' id='ARTFUL_MADGE'></a>
+<h2>Artful Madge</h2>
+</div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>CHAPTER I</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1em;margin-bottom:30px;'>THE PRIZE CONTEST</p>
+<p>&#8220;Artful Madge&#8221; was the very
+flippant name by which Madge
+Burtwell&#8217;s brother Ned had persisted in
+calling her from the time when, at the age
+of sixteen, she gained reluctant permission
+to become a student at the Art
+School.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not that we have any objection to
+art,&#8221; Mrs. Burtwell was wont to explain
+in a deprecatory tone; &#8220;only we should
+have preferred to have Madge graduate
+first, before devoting herself to a mere
+accomplishment. It seems a little like
+putting the trimming on a dress before
+sewing the seams up,&#8221; she would add;
+&#8220;I did it once when I was a girl, and the
+dress always had a queer look.&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Mrs. Burtwell, though firm in her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span>
+own opinions, was something of a philosopher
+in her attitude toward the contrary-minded,
+and even where her own children
+were concerned she never allowed her influence
+to degenerate into tyranny. When
+she found Madge, at the age of sixteen,
+more eager than ever before to study art,
+and nothing else, she told her husband
+that they might as well make up their
+minds to it, and, at the word, their minds
+were made up. For Mr. Burtwell was
+the one entirely and unreasoningly tractable
+member of Mrs. Burtwell&#8217;s flock; in
+explanation of which fact he was careful
+to point out that only a mature mind could
+appreciate the true worth of Mrs. Burtwell&#8217;s
+judgment.</p>
+<p>The Burtwells were people of small
+means and of correspondingly modest
+requirements. They lived in an unfashionable
+quarter of the city, kept a maid-of-all-work,
+sent their children to the public
+schools, and got their books from the
+Public Library. Having no expensive
+tastes, they regarded themselves as well-to-do
+and envied no one.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span></p>
+<p>If Madge Burtwell&#8217;s eyes had been a
+whit less clear, or her nature a thought
+less guileless, Ned would not have been
+so enchanted with his new name for her.
+Indeed, a few years ago she had been
+described by an only half-appreciative
+friend as &#8220;a splendid girl without a mite
+of tact,&#8221; and if she had succeeded in somewhat
+softening the asperity of her natural
+frankness, there was enough of it left to
+lend a delicate shade of humour to the
+name.</p>
+<p>Artful Madge, then, was a student at
+the Art School, and a very promising one
+at that. At the end of three years she
+had made such good progress that she was
+promoted to painting in the Portrait Class,
+and since her special friend and crony,
+Eleanor Merritt, was also a member of
+that class, Madge considered her cup of
+happiness full. Not that there were not
+visions in plenty of still better things to
+come, but they seemed so far in the future
+that they hardly took on any relation with
+the actual present. Madge and Eleanor
+dreamed of Europe, of the old masters
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span>
+and of the great Paris studios, but it is a
+question whether the fulfillment of any
+dream could have made them happier
+than they were to-day. Certain it is, that,
+as they stood side by side in the great
+barren studio, clad in their much-bedaubed,
+long-sleeved aprons, and working away at
+a portrait head, they had little thought for
+anything but the task in hand. The one
+vital matter for the moment was the mixing
+and applying of their colours, and, in
+their eagerness to reproduce the exact
+contour of a cheek, or the precise shadow
+of an unbeautiful nose, they would hardly
+have transferred their attention from the
+most ill-favoured model to the last and
+greatest Whistler masterpiece.</p>
+<p>The girls at the Art School had got
+hold of Ned&#8217;s name for his sister and
+adopted it with enthusiasm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you want to know the truth, ask
+Artful Madge,&#8221; was a very common saying
+among them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Artful Madge says it&#8217;s a good likeness,
+anyhow!&#8221; modest little Minnie
+Drayton would maintain, when hard
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span>
+pressed by the teasing of the older
+girls.</p>
+<p>The incongruity of the name seemed
+somehow to throw into brighter relief the
+peculiar sincerity of its bearer&#8217;s character,
+and by the time it was generally adopted
+among the students Madge Burtwell&#8217;s
+popularity was established.</p>
+<p>It was well that Madge was a favourite,
+for in certain respects she was the worst
+sinner in the class. To begin with, her
+palette was the very largest in the room,
+and the most plentifully besmeared with
+colours, and woe to the girl who ventured
+too near it! As Madge stood before her
+easel, tall and fair and earnest, painting
+with an ardour and concentration which
+was all too sure to beguile her into her
+besetting sin of &#8220;exaggerating details,&#8221;
+she wielded both brush- and palette-arm
+with a genial disregard of consequences.
+Nor could one count upon her confining
+her activities to one location. Like all
+the students, she was in the habit of backing
+away from her natural anchorage from
+time to time, the better to judge of her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span>
+work, and not one of them all had such a
+fatal tendency to come up against an unoffending
+easel in the rear, sending canvas
+and paint-tubes rattling upon the floor.</p>
+<p>Instantly she would drop upon her
+knees, overcome with contrition, and help
+collect the scattered treasures, giving
+many a jar or joggle to neighbouring
+easels in the process.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a shame, Miss Folsom!&#8221; she
+would cry, struggling to her feet again,
+still clutching her beloved palette, which
+seemed fairly to rain colours on every
+surrounding object. &#8220;It&#8217;s a shame! But
+if you will just cast your eye upon that
+thing of mine, you will perceive that it
+was the recklessness of desperation. Look
+at it! There&#8217;s not a value in it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Artful Madge was always forgiven, and
+no one ever thought of calling her awkward,
+and when, in the early autumn, a Saturday
+sketching club was organised, it was
+christened &#8220;The Artful Daubers&#8221; in
+honor of Madge, and she was unanimously
+elected president.</p>
+<p>The girls were not in the habit of paying
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span>
+much attention to chance visitors who
+came in from time to time and made the
+perilous passage among the easels, and
+lucky was the &#8220;parent&#8221; or &#8220;art-patron&#8221;
+who escaped without a streak of colour on
+some portion of his raiment. When Mrs.
+Oliver Jacques looked in upon them one
+memorable morning in February no premonition
+of great things to come stirred
+the company; only indifferent glances
+were directed upon her by the few who
+deigned to observe her at all. And this
+pleased Mrs. Oliver Jacques very much
+indeed.</p>
+<p>Yet, if the girls had paused to consider,&mdash;a
+thing which they never did when
+there was a model on the platform,&mdash;they
+would have been aware that their visitor
+was a person of importance in the world
+of Art, for importance in no other world
+would have secured to her the personal
+escort of Mr. Salome, the adored teacher
+of their class. Yet Mrs. Jacques was a
+charming little old lady who would have
+commanded attention on her own merits
+in any less preoccupied assembly than
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span>
+that of the studio. Her exceedingly
+bright eyes and her exceedingly white
+hair seemed to accentuate her animation
+of manner; there was so much sparkle in
+her face that even her silence did not
+lack point.</p>
+<p>She had accomplished her tortuous passage
+among the easels without meeting
+with any mishaps in the shape of Cremnitz-white
+or crimson-lake. She had
+paused occasionally and had bestowed a
+critical nod upon the one &#8220;blocked-in&#8221;
+countenance, or had drawn her brows together
+questioningly over a study in which
+the nose had a startlingly finished appearance
+in a still sketchy environment, but
+not until she had successfully avoided the
+last easel, planted at an erratic angle just
+where the unwary would be sure to stub
+his toe, did she make any remark.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A lot of them, aren&#8217;t there?&#8221; she
+observed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, the school is pretty full,&#8221; Mr.
+Salome replied. &#8220;In fact, we&#8217;re a little
+bothered for room.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Any imagination among them?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, as to that, it&#8217;s rather early to
+form an opinion. Our aim just now is to
+keep them to facts. Some of them,&#8221; the
+artist added with a smile, &#8220;are rather too
+much inclined to draw upon their imagination.
+Now there is one girl there who
+is, humanly speaking, certain to paint the
+model&#8217;s hair jet-black, or as black as paint
+can be made. And yet, you see, there is
+not a black thread in it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wonder whether you would object to
+my making an experiment?&#8221; Mrs. Jacques
+asked, abruptly.</p>
+<p>And from that seemingly unpremeditated
+question of Mrs. Jacques&#8217;, and from
+the consultation that ensued, grew the
+Prize Contest, destined to be famous in
+the annals of the school.</p>
+<p>When, on that very afternoon, the students
+were assembled for the occasion,
+they had not yet had time to adjust their
+minds to the magnitude of the interests
+involved. Yet the conditions were simple
+enough. That student who should, in the
+space of two hours, produce the best composition
+illustrative of &#8220;Hope&#8221; was to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span>
+receive a prize of five hundred dollars!
+The conviction prevailed among them that
+the vivacious little old lady with the white
+hair could be none other than the fairy
+godmother of nursery lore, and it was
+only too delightful to find that agile and
+beneficent myth interesting herself in the
+cause of Art.</p>
+<p>When once the class was fairly launched
+upon its new emprise, a change in the
+usual aspect of things became apparent.
+In the first place, most of the students
+were seated; for, in a task of pure composition,
+there was no occasion either for
+standing or for &#8220;prowling,&#8221;&mdash;the term
+familiarly applied to the sometimes disastrous
+backward and forward movements
+of which mention has been made, and
+which ordinarily gave so much action to
+the scene. Furthermore, the use of watercolor,
+as lending itself more readily than
+oils to rapid execution, deprived the scene
+of one of its most picturesque features,&mdash;namely,
+the brilliant-hued palette which,
+with its similarity to a shield, was wont to
+lend its bearer an Amazonian air, not lost
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span>
+upon the class caricaturists. Subdued,
+however, and almost &#8220;lady-like&#8221; as the
+appearance of the class had become,
+hardly half an hour had passed before
+the genial spirit of creation had so taken
+possession of the assembly as to cast a
+glow and glamour of its own upon it.
+Here and there, to be sure, might still be
+seen an anxious, intent young face with
+eyes fixed upon vacancy, or an idle, if
+somewhat begrimed and parti-coloured
+hand, fiercely clutching a dejected head;
+but nearly all were already busily at work,
+eagerly painting, or as eagerly obliterating
+strokes too hastily made. The subject,
+hackneyed as it certainly is, had
+pleased and stimulated the girls. There
+was a mingled vagueness and familiarity
+in its suggestion which puzzled them and
+spurred them on at the same time.</p>
+<p>Among the most impetuous workers,
+almost from the outset, was Artful Madge.
+She had instantly conceived of Hope as a
+vague, beckoning figure, which was to take
+its significance from the multitude and variety
+of its followers. She chose a large
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span>
+sheet of paper and quickly sketched in
+the upper left-hand corner a very indefinite
+hint of a winged, luminous something,&mdash;it
+might have been an angel or a bird or
+a cloud, seen from a great distance, against
+a somewhat threatening sky. Without
+defining the form at all she very cleverly
+produced an impression of receding motion;&mdash;she
+ventured even to hope that
+there was something alluring in the motion.
+That, however, must be made unmistakably
+clear through the pursuing
+figures with which she proposed to fill
+the foreground.</p>
+<p>She glanced at Eleanor, who had not
+yet mixed a colour.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you waiting for?&#8221; she
+asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t seem ready to begin,&#8221; said
+Eleanor, in an absent tone of voice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you got an idea?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think so.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then do hurry up and go ahead, or
+you&#8217;ll get left.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Madge sat a moment, looking straight
+before her.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you going to put in there?&#8221;
+asked Eleanor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What I want is all the people in the
+world,&#8221; Madge replied, with perfect gravity.
+&#8220;But there is not room for them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A moment later she was working furiously,
+with hot cheeks and shining eyes
+and breath coming faster and faster.</p>
+<p>First she would have a soldier. Madge
+had always loved a soldier; her father had
+been one in the great and splendid days
+before she was born. Yes, a soldier must
+come first. And forthwith a very sketchy
+warrior stepped, with a very martial air,
+upon the paper. Then an artist ought to
+come next;&mdash;only she could not think of
+any way of indicating his calling without
+the aid of some conventional emblem. A
+mere look of inspiration might belong to
+a poet or a preacher as well as to an
+artist. Besides which, she was by no means
+sure that she knew how to paint a look of
+inspiration. And then it came to her
+that, unless she could paint just that, her
+picture must be a failure; and so she fell
+upon it, and began sketching in figures of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span>
+old and young, rich and poor, trying only
+to put into each face the eager, upward
+look which should focus all, in spirit as
+well as in actual direction, upon the flying,
+luminous figure. In some attempts
+she succeeded and in some she failed.
+There was one old woman, with abnormally
+deep wrinkles, and shoulders somewhat
+out of drawing, whose face had
+caught a curiously inspired look; Madge
+did not dare touch her again for fear of
+losing it. Her artist, on the other hand,
+the young man with the ideal brow and
+very large eyes, grew more and more inane
+and expressionless the more eagerly his
+creator worked at him.</p>
+<p>On the whole, the production as a two-hour
+composition by a three-year student
+was rather good than bad. When time
+was called Madge felt pretty sure that she
+should not win the prize; she had undertaken
+too much, both for the occasion and
+for her own ability. And yet it was borne
+in upon her to-day that she was going to
+make a better artist than she had ever
+before dared hope.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></p>
+<p>So absorbed had she been in her own
+work, that she had completely forgotten
+Eleanor, and had not even been aware
+that her friend had begun painting an
+hour ago. Now she turned to her with
+compunction in her heart. Eleanor held
+her finished sketch in her hand, but her
+eyes had wandered to the high, broad
+north window which was one great sheet
+of radiant blue sky.</p>
+<p>Eleanor&#8217;s composition was very simple,
+but extremely well done, and in the glance
+Madge was able to give it before the
+sketches were handed in she saw that it
+was delicately suggestive. It represented
+a curving shore, a quiet sea, and a saffron
+sky,&mdash;no sails on the sea, no clouds in
+the sky. Upon the shore stood a solitary
+pine-tree, almost denuded of branches,
+and against the tree leaned the slender
+figure of a youth, looking dreamily across
+the sea to the horizon, where the saffron
+colour was tinged with gold. That was
+all, but Madge felt sure that it was
+enough; and, as she thought about it,
+she felt herself very small and crude and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span>
+confused, and she was conscious of a perfectly
+calm and dispassionate wish to tear
+her own sketch in two. She did not do
+so, however. There was no irritation, nor
+envy, nor even displeasure, in her mind.
+She had not supposed that either she or
+Eleanor could do anything so good as
+that sketch,&mdash;since one of them could,
+why, that was just so much clear gain.</p>
+<p>A moment later the studio was in a
+tumult. The sketches had been handed
+over to the three judges, who had gone
+into instant consultation over them. Mrs.
+Jacques had decreed, with characteristic
+decision, that the judges were bound to
+be as prompt as the competitors, and the
+award was promised within half an hour.
+What wonder if the usual tumult of dispersion
+was increased tenfold by the excitement
+of the occasion? The voices
+were pitched in a higher key, the easels
+clattered more noisily than ever, there was
+a more lively movement among the many-hued
+aprons, as they were pulled off and
+consigned with many a shake and a flourish
+to their respective pegs.</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a>
+<img src='images/illus-080.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 366px; height: 528px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 366px;'>
+&#8220;Eleanor&#8217;s eyes had wandered to the high, broad north window.&#8221;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;What did you paint?&#8221; asked one high
+voice, whose owner was enthusiastically
+shaking the water from her paint-brush
+all over the floor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I painted you&mdash;working for the prize.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not really!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, really! You were just at the right
+angle for it, and you did look so hopeful!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t make me believe you played
+such a shabby trick upon me, Mary Downing!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Shabby! If you knew how good-looking
+you were at a three-eighths&#8217; angle you
+would be grateful to me! You did have
+such an inspired look for a little while,&mdash;before
+you got disgusted, and began to
+wash out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jane Rhoades did an awfully pretty
+thing&mdash;a white bird with a boy running
+after it. But I felt perfectly certain that
+the little wretch had a gun in his other
+hand!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What a fiery head you gave your
+angel, Mattie Stiles! He looked like
+Loge in <i>Rheingold!</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t care,&#8221; said Mattie, in a tone of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span>
+voice that showed that she did care very
+much indeed. &#8220;I do like red hair, and
+we haven&#8217;t had a chance to paint any all
+winter.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Red hair wouldn&#8217;t make Titians of
+us,&#8221; sighed Miss Isabella Ricker, who was
+of a despondent temperament.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It wouldn&#8217;t be any hindrance, anyhow!&#8221;
+Mattie insisted.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the half-hour was drawing to
+a close. A general air of rough order had
+descended upon the studio. The girls were
+sitting or standing about in groups, their
+remarks getting more disjointed and irrelevant
+as the nervousness of anticipation
+grew upon them. Madge and Eleanor
+had found a seat on the steps of the platform.
+The former was making a pencil
+sketch of Miss Isabella Ricker, who had
+abandoned herself to dejection in a remote
+corner of the room. Madge looked up
+suddenly, and found that Eleanor was
+watching her work.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your thing is very interesting,&#8221; she
+remarked, in a reserved tone, which, nevertheless,
+sent the colour mounting slowly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span>
+up her friend&#8217;s sensitive cheek. They
+both understood that no more commendatory
+adjective than &#8220;interesting&#8221; was to
+be found in the art-student&#8217;s vocabulary.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re partial, Madge.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not a bit of it. But I know an interesting
+thing when I see it. If you win
+the prize,&#8221; she asked abruptly, &#8220;what shall
+you do with the money?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you go to the moon next week,
+what shall you do with the green cheese?&#8221;
+Eleanor retorted, with an unprecedented
+outburst of sarcasm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think you might answer my question,&#8221;
+said Madge; and at that instant
+the door opened and a hush fell upon the
+room.</p>
+<p>The suspense was not painfully prolonged.
+The Curator of the Art Museum,
+who had been associated with Mrs.
+Jacques and Mr. Salome as judge, stepped
+upon the platform, from which Madge
+and Eleanor had precipitately retreated,
+and made the following announcement:</p>
+<p>&#8220;We have, on the whole,&#8221; he said,
+&#8220;been very well pleased with the work we
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span>
+have had to consider. In fact, several of
+the sketches were better than anything
+we had looked for. Nevertheless our decision
+was not a difficult one, and our
+choice is unanimous. The prize which
+Mrs. Jacques has had the originality and
+the generosity to offer has been awarded
+to Mary Eleanor Merritt.&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>&#8220;And now will you answer my question?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Madge and Eleanor were walking home
+together through the light snow which
+had just begun to fall. They had been
+curiously shy of speaking, and, before the
+silence was broken, a pretty wreath of
+snow had formed itself about the rim of
+each of their black felt hats, while little
+ribbons of it were decorating the folds of
+their garments.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What are you going to do with your
+green cheese?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall go to Paris next autumn,&#8221; said
+Eleanor, tightly clasping the check which
+she held inside her muff.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s what I thought,&#8221; said Madge;
+and if her eyes grew a trifle red and
+moist it was perhaps natural enough,
+since the snow was flying straight into
+them.</p>
+<hr class='chapter' />
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>CHAPTER II</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1em;margin-bottom:30px;'>THE MINIATURE</p>
+<p>&#8220;What makes you keep looking at
+me, Eleanor Merritt? You&#8217;re
+not a bit of a good model!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Thus reproved, Eleanor once more fixed
+her eyes upon a very bad oil-portrait of
+Great-grandfather Burtwell, an elderly
+man of a wooden countenance, in stock
+and choker, surmounting an expanse of
+black broadcloth which occupied two-thirds
+of the canvas.</p>
+<p>The girls were established in what was
+known as the spare-room of the Burtwell
+house, which, with its north light and
+usual freedom from visitors made a very
+good studio. Madge was painting a miniature
+of Eleanor. The diminutive size of
+her undertaking was causing her a good
+deal of embarrassment, and she was consequently
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span>
+inclined to be rather severe with
+her sitter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know I am not going to have
+many more chances of looking at you for
+a year to come,&#8221; Eleanor urged, in a tone
+of meek dejection.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I can&#8217;t see you, even now,&#8221; Madge
+persisted, &#8220;if you don&#8217;t turn more toward
+the light.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was silence again for some minutes,
+while Madge painted steadily on.
+Difficult as was this new task which she
+had set herself, she was captivated with it.
+However the miniature might turn out as
+a likeness, she felt sure that each stroke of
+her brush was making a prettier picture of
+it. The eyes already had the real Eleanor
+look, and the hair was &#8220;pretty nice.&#8221; The
+mouth was troublesome, to be sure, and
+to-day she did not feel inspired to improve
+it, and had turned her attention to less
+important details.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got such a pretty ear!&#8221; she
+remarked presently, as she touched its
+outermost rim with a hair line, cocking
+her head to one side, the while, in a very
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span>
+professional manner; &#8220;Did you ever notice
+what a pretty ear you have?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Better be careful how you talk about
+it,&#8221; Eleanor laughed, &#8220;for fear it should
+begin to burn!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The artist looked in some trepidation
+at the feature in question, but its soft hue
+did not deepen. She took the precaution,
+however, to change the subject; to one
+which she often chose, indeed, for the
+sake of the animation it brought into the
+pretty face of her model. Eleanor&#8217;s &#8220;repose&#8221;
+sometimes bothered her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What shall you do the first day in
+Paris?&#8221; Madge asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall write to you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good gracious! You won&#8217;t write to
+me before you have seen the Louvre!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shall write to you the very first minute.
+And then I shall write again that
+same evening, and tell you whether there
+really is a Louvre! If there shouldn&#8217;t be
+one, you know, I shouldn&#8217;t feel so like a
+pig in being there without you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You needn&#8217;t feel like a pig, as far
+as that goes,&#8221; said Madge. &#8220;I couldn&#8217;t
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span>
+have gone to Paris if I had won the
+prize.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I had it out with Father this
+morning. He says it&#8217;s not a mere matter
+of money; that if he and Mother thought
+well of my going, they could manage it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;O Madge! Can&#8217;t you make them
+think well of it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid not. Father never did
+really believe in my going in for art, and
+I think he believes in it less now than
+he ever did. He says I&#8217;ve been at it
+for three years, and I haven&#8217;t painted a
+pretty picture yet. And he says he
+doesn&#8217;t see what good it&#8217;s going to do
+me in after-life; that if I marry I sha&#8217;n&#8217;t
+keep it up, and there wouldn&#8217;t be any
+good in my trying to;&mdash;which is, of course
+a mistake, only I can&#8217;t make him believe
+that it is,&mdash;and he says that if I don&#8217;t
+marry, I&#8217;ve got to earn my living sooner
+or later.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, but that&#8217;s just it, Madge!
+You&#8217;re going to be able to earn your
+living! You&#8217;re sure to!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p>
+<p>But Madge was again engrossed in her
+work. The afternoon would soon draw to
+a close, and if she wished to carry out her
+designs upon that ear it behooved her to
+stop talking. Though her little picture
+was an oval of three inches by four, it had
+cost her more strokes than any canvas of
+ten times the size had ever done. And
+Eleanor was to sail in a fortnight!</p>
+<p>At last the light began to fade, and
+Madge knew that she must stop.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What do you suppose Father said to
+me this morning?&#8221; she asked, as she
+washed out her brushes and put her paint-box
+in order.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t imagine.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, he said that when any good
+judge thought my pictures worth paying
+for in good hard cash, it would be time to
+think of sending me &#8216;traipsing over the
+world with my paint-pot.&#8217; He said that
+if I would come to him with a fifty-dollar
+bill of my own earning he should begin to
+think there was some sense in my art-talk.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did he really say that? Why, Madge,
+who knows?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span></p>
+<p>Madge had shut up her paint-box and
+moved to the window, where she was
+gloomily looking down into her neighbours&#8217;
+backyards.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you mean Noah&#8217;s Dove,&#8221; she said,
+&#8220;You might as well give him up. He&#8217;s
+come back for the thirteenth time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Now &#8220;Noah&#8217;s Dove&#8221; was the name
+which Madge had bestowed upon a small
+bundle of pen-and-ink sketches which she
+had been sending about to the illustrated
+papers for two or three months past, and
+which had earned their name by the persistency
+with which they had found their
+way back again. The girls had both
+thought them funny and original; indeed
+Eleanor, with the partiality of one&#8217;s best
+friend, did not hesitate to pronounce them
+better than many of the things that got
+accepted. Up to this time, however, no
+editor had seemed disposed to recognise
+their merits, and they had been repeatedly
+and ignominiously rejected.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you&#8217;ll keep on sending them,
+won&#8217;t you, Madge?&#8221; Eleanor insisted.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course I shall, as long as there is a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span>
+picture-paper left in the country; though
+the postage does cost an awful lot!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The sun had set, and a tinge of rosy
+colour was spreading across the northern
+sky behind the chimneys. The girls stood
+silent for a moment, watching the colour
+deepen, while a wistful look came into
+Eleanor&#8217;s face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;After all, Madge,&#8221; she said; &#8220;it must
+be nice to have somebody think for you,
+even when he doesn&#8217;t think the way you
+want him to.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, of course, Father&#8217;s a dear. I
+don&#8217;t suppose I would swap him off, even
+for Paris!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish I could even remember my
+father or my mother, or anybody that
+really belonged to me!&#8221; Eleanor said;
+then, feeling that she was making an appeal
+for sympathy, a thing which she was
+principled against doing, she turned her
+eyes away from the tender, beguiling
+colour behind the chimneys, and looked,
+instead, at the big oil portrait on the wall.
+&#8220;It&#8217;s something to have even a painted
+grandfather of your own!&#8221; she declared.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;How I should love to give you mine!&#8221;
+laughed Madge. &#8220;He&#8217;s such a horrible
+daub, and I should so like to have the frame
+when it comes time to exhibit! You
+would not insist upon having him in a
+frame, would you, Nell?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Presently the girls went down-stairs together
+and Eleanor stayed to tea, and
+told the family all about her Paris plans,
+and how she felt like a pig to be going
+without Madge. And all the time, as she
+talked to these kindly, sympathetic people,
+it seemed to her that Madge was even
+more to be envied than she; and she
+wished she knew how to say so in an acceptable
+manner. But Eleanor found as
+much difficulty as most of us do, in expressing
+our best and truest thoughts, and
+so the Burtwell family never knew what a
+heart-warming impression they had made
+upon their guest.</p>
+<p>Eleanor had lived for the past three
+years with a married cousin, a daughter
+of the not particularly congenial or affectionate
+Aunt Sarah, now deceased, who
+had brought her up from babyhood. The
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span>
+gentle, sensitive girl, with the artistic temperament,
+had never been happy with her
+cousin, though the latter was far from suspecting
+the fact. Mrs. Hamilton Hicks
+was fond of Eleanor, or imagined herself
+to be so, and she always gave her
+young cousin her due share of credit, in
+view of the fact that they had &#8220;never
+had any words together.&#8221; Nevertheless,
+she had acceded very readily to the Paris
+plan, and had herself taken pains to
+find a suitable chaperon for the young
+traveller.</p>
+<p>The result was, that on the fifteenth of
+September Eleanor went forth into the
+great world in company with a lively and
+voluble Frenchwoman, a lady whom she
+had seen but twice before in her life, who
+had promised to establish her in a good
+private family in Paris. And since Mrs.
+Hamilton Hicks had negotiated the arrangement,
+its success was a foregone
+conclusion.</p>
+<p>When Madge left the railway station
+after bidding Eleanor good-bye, and
+stepped out into the crowded city thoroughfare,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span>
+the world seemed to her very
+empty and desolate, in spite of the multitude
+of her fellow-creatures who jostled
+against her. She could think of nothing
+but Eleanor, standing on the platform of
+the car as the train moved out of the
+station, and she was desperately sorry to
+have lost the last sight of her friend&#8217;s tearful
+face, because of a curious blur that had
+come over her own eyes at the moment.
+At the recollection, she mechanically put
+her hand into her pocket in search of the
+miniature which she usually carried about
+with her. She had left it at home lest
+she should lose it in the crowded railway
+station. It gave her a pang not to find
+it, and she made up her mind then and
+there that she would never go without
+it again.</p>
+<p>The moment she reached her own room
+she seized the picture and had a good look
+at it. She had placed it in the inner gilt
+rim of an old daguerreotype, which set it
+off very nicely. She had discarded the
+hard leather daguerreotype case, as being
+too clumsy to carry about in her pocket,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span>
+and in its place had made a sort of pocket-book
+of red morocco which was a sufficient
+protection for the glass, in her careful
+keeping.</p>
+<p>She had never liked the picture so well
+as she did to-day, for she thought of it
+now for the first time, not as a work of art,
+but as a likeness, and imperfect as it was,
+even from that point of view, it gave her
+very great pleasure to look at it. Yes, decidedly,
+she must always have it by her
+hereafter; and she slipped it into her
+pocket while she made herself ready for
+tea.</p>
+<p>But supposing she should have her
+pocket picked! A pickpocket, she reflected,
+might, in the hastiness which must
+always characterise his operations, mistake
+the little leather case for a purse, and
+then&mdash;how should she ever get the precious
+miniature back again? &#8220;Not that
+he would want to keep it,&#8221; she said to herself,
+as she took it out once more for a
+parting look,&mdash;&#8220;unless he should lose
+his heart to that ear!&#8221;&mdash;and she regarded
+the tiny pink object with pardonable
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span>
+pride. But with the best intentions in
+the world, how would he be able to restore
+it? She must put her address in the
+case; that would be a simple matter.</p>
+<p>An hour later, the family were gathered
+about the great round table in the pleasant
+sitting-room, pursuing their various
+avocations by the light of an excellent
+argand burner. Mr. Burtwell was reading
+his evening paper, imparting occasional
+choice bits to his wife and his eldest
+daughter, Julia, who were dealing with
+a heap of mending. The two younger
+children were playing lotto, while Ned
+was having a hand-to-hand tussle with his
+Cicero, a foeman likely to prove worthy
+of his steel.</p>
+<p>Madge had taken out a sheet of paper,
+with a view to inscribing her address upon
+it. The mere act of doing so had called
+up to her mind so vivid an impression of
+the thief for whose information it was destined,
+that she suddenly felt impelled to
+address to him a few words of admonition.
+With an agreeable sense of the absurdity
+of her performance, she began a letter to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span>
+this figment of her imagination, and this
+is what she wrote:</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>&#8220;<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Dear Pickpocket</span>,</p>
+<p>&#8220;For, as I shall never leave this miniature
+about anywhere, you must be a pickpocket
+if it falls into your hands. To
+begin with, then; it is not a good miniature
+at all, and there is no use in your
+trying to sell it. In fact, it is a very bad
+miniature, as you will see if you know
+anything about such things, which you
+probably don&#8217;t. But it is very valuable
+to me, and so I hope you will return it to
+me as soon as you find out how bad it is.
+You probably won&#8217;t want to bring it
+yourself,&mdash;I&#8217;m sure I should not think
+you would!&mdash;but you can perfectly well
+send it by express, and you can let them
+collect charges on delivery, unless you
+think that, under the circumstances, you
+ought to prepay them. My address is,</p>
+<p style='margin-left:0.0em; margin-right:0.0em; text-align:right'>Miss Margaret Burtwell,&#8221; etc.<br /></p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>Madge read over her production with
+an amusement and satisfaction which
+quite filled, for the moment, the aching
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span>
+void of which she had been so painfully
+conscious. The letter occupied but one-half
+the sheet, and, as the young artist&#8217;s
+eye fell upon the blank third page, she
+was seized with an irresistible impulse to
+draw a picture on it.</p>
+<p>The figure of the pickpocket was by
+this time so vivid to her mind, that she
+began making a pen-and-ink sketch of
+him, as a dark-browed villain in the act
+of rifling the pocket of a very haughty
+young woman proceeding along the street
+with an air of extreme self-consciousness.
+The drawing was on a very small scale, and
+when it was finished to her satisfaction
+there was still half the page unoccupied.
+Madge hastily wrote under the sketch the
+words: &#8220;The Crime,&#8221; and a moment later
+she was engrossed in the execution of a
+still more dramatic design, representing
+the criminal in the hands of two stalwart
+policemen, being ignominiously dragged
+through the street toward a sort of medi&aelig;val
+fortress, with walls some twenty feet
+thick, upon which was inscribed in enormous
+characters, &#8220;JAIL.&#8221; Still more action
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span>
+was given the drawing by the introduction
+of two or three small and gleeful
+ragamuffins, dancing a derisive war-dance
+behind the captive, and of two dogs of
+doubtful lineage, barking like mad on the
+outskirts of the group. Under this picture
+was inscribed, &#8220;The Consequences of
+Crime,&#8221; and at the bottom of the page appeared
+the words, &#8220;Behold and tremble!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s Artful Madge up to?&#8221; asked
+Ned, as he closed his Latin Dictionary
+with a bang.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Writing a letter,&#8221; Madge replied,
+composedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To the Prize Pig?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The Prize Pig! You know Eleanor
+said she felt like a pig to be going to
+Paris without you, and as she got the
+prize&#8211;&#8211;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You impudent boy!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not in the least. I&#8217;m only witty.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Witty!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&mdash;I&#8217;ve heard wit defined as the
+unexpected.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The dictionary doesn&#8217;t define it so,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span>
+and good manners don&#8217;t define impudence
+as wit.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;re not discussing impudence,
+we&#8217;re discussing wit. And I know
+positively that wit is defined as the unexpected.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s have your authority,&#8221; said Mr.
+Burtwell, who had not heard the first part
+of the discussion.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let us see what the dictionary says,&#8221;
+suggested Julia, who was the scholar of
+the family.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Very well; and what will you bet that
+I&#8217;m not right?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We don&#8217;t bet in this family,&#8221; said Mr.
+Burtwell, with decision.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, well, that&#8217;s only a form of speech.
+What will you do for me, Madge, if I&#8217;m
+right?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll put you into an allegorical sketch.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good! I always wondered that you
+didn&#8217;t make use of such good material in
+the artful line!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The wire dictionary-stand, containing
+the portly form of Webster Unabridged,
+was instantly brought up to the light, and
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span>
+there was half a minute&#8217;s silence while
+Ned turned the leaves.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Score me one!&#8221; he shouted, in high
+glee. &#8220;Listen to Webster! &#8216;Wit. 3.
+Felicitous association of objects not usually
+connected, so as to produce a pleasant
+surprise.&#8217; Quite at your service, my artful
+relative, whenever you would like a
+sitting!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I protest! You haven&#8217;t won!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Haven&#8217;t won, indeed! I leave it to
+the gentlemen of the jury. Is not the
+name of Prize Pig for Miss Eleanor Merritt
+a &#8216;felicitous association of objects not
+usually connected&#8217;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No! The association is infelicitous,
+and consequently it does not produce a
+&#8216;pleasant surprise.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>The family listened with the amused
+tolerance with which they usually left such
+discussions to the two chief wranglers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I maintain,&#8221; insisted Ned, &#8220;that the
+association of objects is felicitous, and
+must be, because it was instituted by Miss
+Eleanor Merritt herself. She won the
+prize, and she said she was a pig.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;But it doesn&#8217;t produce a pleasant surprise,&#8221;
+Madge objected.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I beg your pardon! It <i>has</i> produced
+a pleasant surprise, as I can testify, for I
+have experienced it myself. What is your
+verdict, Mother?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My verdict is, that it&#8217;s a pity, as I
+always thought it was, that you are not
+to be a lawyer, and that Madge can&#8217;t do
+better than practise her drawing by making
+the allegorical sketch.&#8221;</p>
+<p>That Mrs. Burtwell should be on Ned&#8217;s
+side was a foregone conclusion, and Madge
+appealed to her father.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Father, is calling Eleanor Merritt a
+prize pig a form of wit?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pretty poor wit I should call it!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Father is on my side!&#8221; shouted Ned.
+&#8220;He says it&#8217;s poor wit, which is only one
+way of saying that it is wit!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Can wit be poor?&#8221; asked Julia.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Father says it can.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then it isn&#8217;t wit!&#8221; Madge protested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should like to know why not. Old
+Mr. Tanner is a poor man, but he&#8217;s a
+man for all that, and votes at elections
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span>
+for the highest bidder. And your logic&#8217;s
+poor, but I suppose you&#8217;d call it logic!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have an idea!&#8221; cried Madge. &#8220;I&#8217;m
+going to make my fortune out of you!
+I&#8217;m going to make a pair of excruciatingly
+funny pictures of you! The first
+shall be called <i>The Student and Logic</i>,
+and the second shall be called <i>Logic and
+the Student!</i> In the first the student
+shall be patting Logic on the head, and in
+the second,&mdash;oh, it&#8217;s an inspiration!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And forthwith Madge seized a large
+sheet of paper and began work.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not sure that this won&#8217;t be the
+beginning of a series,&#8221; she declared.
+&#8220;When it&#8217;s finished I shall send it to a
+funny paper and get fifty dollars for it,&mdash;and
+when I have got fifty dollars for it,
+Father will send me to Paris; won&#8217;t you,
+Daddy, dear?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s that? What&#8217;s that?&#8221; asked
+Mr. Burtwell.</p>
+<p>&#8220;When I get fifty dollars,&mdash;<i>or more!</i>&mdash;for
+my Student, you will send me to
+Europe!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes! And when you&#8217;re Queen
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span>
+of England I shall be presented at Court!
+Listen to what the paper says: &#8216;The
+Honourable Jacob Luddington and family
+have just returned from an extensive
+foreign tour. The two Miss Luddingtons
+were presented at the Court of St.
+James, where their exceptional beauty and
+elegance are said to have made a marked
+impression.&#8217; Good for the Honourable
+Jacob! His father was my father&#8217;s chore-man,
+and here are his daughters hobnobbing
+with crowned heads!&#8221;</p>
+<p>From which digression it is fair to conclude
+that Mr. Burtwell did not attach
+any great importance to his daughter&#8217;s
+question or to his own answer. But
+Madge put away the promise in the safest
+recesses of her memory as carefully as she
+had tucked the letter to her &#8220;dear pickpocket&#8221;
+inside the red morocco pocket-book.
+It seemed as if the one were likely
+to be called for about as soon as the
+other,&mdash;&#8220;which means never at all!&#8221; she
+said to herself, with a profound sigh.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The throes of creation have begun,&#8221;
+Ned chuckled; and then, as he watched
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span>
+his sister&#8217;s business-like proceedings, marvelling
+the while at what he secretly considered
+her quite phenomenal skill, he let
+himself be sufficiently carried away by
+enthusiasm to remark, &#8220;I say, Madge,
+you&#8217;re no fool at that sort of thing, if
+you <i>are</i> a girl!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='chapter' />
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>CHAPTER III</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1em;margin-bottom:30px;'>NOAH&#8217;S DOVE</p>
+<p>&#8220;I really think, Miss Burtwell, you
+might be a little more careful,&#8221;
+Miss Isabella Ricker wailed, in a tone of
+hopeless remonstrance. It was the third
+time that morning that Madge had
+knocked against her easel, and human
+nature could bear no more.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think so too,&#8221; said Madge, in a voice
+as dejected as her victim&#8217;s own. &#8220;If I
+only knew how to prowl more intelligently,
+I would, I truly would.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tie yourself to your own easel,&#8221; suggested
+Delia Smith; &#8220;then that will have
+to go first.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;re a good one to talk!&#8221; cried
+Mary Downing. &#8220;You&#8217;ve upset my
+things twice this very morning!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Put those two behind each other,&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span>
+Josephine Wilkes suggested. &#8220;It will be
+a lesson to them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And who&#8217;s going to sit behind the
+rear one?&#8221; somebody asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Harriet Wells,&#8221; Delia Smith proposed.
+&#8220;Mr. Salome said &#8216;very good&#8217; to her this
+morning; she must be proof against
+adversity.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No one is proof against adversity,&#8221;
+Madge declared, in a tragic tone; but her
+remark passed unheeded. The girls were
+already at work again, and nothing short
+of another wreck was likely to distract
+their attention. The scrape of a palette-knife,
+the tread of a prowler, or the shoving
+of a chair to one side, were the only
+sounds audible in the room, excepting
+when the occasional roar of an electric car
+or the rattle of a passing waggon came in
+at the open window. It was the first warm
+day in April.</p>
+<p>Artful Madge&#8217;s sententious observation
+with regard to adversity was the fruit of
+bitter experience. Misfortune&#8217;s arrows
+had been raining thick and fast about her,
+and although she was holding her ground
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span>
+against them very well, she felt that adversity
+was a subject on which she was fitted
+to speak with authority.</p>
+<p>In the first place, her Student series
+was proving to be quite as much of a
+Noah&#8217;s Dove as the first set of sketches
+which had so signally failed to find a permanent
+roosting-place in an inhospitable
+world. Only yesterday the familiar parcel
+had made its appearance on the front-entry
+table, that table which, for a year
+past, she had never come in sight of without
+a quicker beating of the heart. If
+she ever did have a bit of success, she
+often reflected, that piece of ancestral mahogany
+was likely to be the first to know
+of it. How often she had dreamed of
+the small business envelope, addressed in
+an unfamiliar hand, which might one day
+appear there! It would be half a second
+before she should take in the meaning of
+it. Then would come a premonitory thrill,
+instantly justified by a glance at the upper
+left-hand corner of the envelope, where
+the name of some great periodical would
+seem literally blazoned forth, however
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span>
+small the type in which it was printed.
+And then,&mdash;oh, then! the tearing open of
+the envelope, the unfolding of the sheet
+with trembling fingers, the check! Would
+it be for $10 or $15 or even $25, and
+might there be a word of editorial praise
+or admonition? Foolish, foolish dreams!
+And there was that hideous parcel, which
+she was getting to hate the very sight of!
+As she squeezed a long rope of burnt-sienna
+upon her palette, she made up her
+mind that she would wait a week before
+exposing herself to another disappointment.
+Perhaps the Student would improve
+with keeping, like violins and old
+masters. Certainly if he was anything
+like his prototype he needed maturing.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the model&#8217;s mouth was proving
+as troublesome to paint as Eleanor&#8217;s
+had been, and as Madge grew more and
+more perplexed with the problem of it she
+thought of the miniature with a fresh
+pang. For she had lost it! Three days
+ago it had somehow slipped from her possession.
+Had she left it lying on the
+table in the Public Library? Nobody
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span>
+there had seen anything of it. But on
+the very day of her loss she had been at
+the Library, examining the current numbers
+of all the illustrated papers, in the
+hope of gleaning some hint as to editorial
+tastes. She remembered reading Eleanor&#8217;s
+last letter there, the letter in which
+her friend had written that she was to
+have two years more of Paris. She had
+read the letter through twice, and then she
+had taken out the miniature and had a
+good look at it. To think of Eleanor,
+having two more years of Paris! And it
+had all come about so simply! She had
+merely persuaded her cousin, Mr. Hicks, to
+advance a few hundred dollars till she
+should be of age and at liberty to sell a
+bond.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There isn&#8217;t anybody that believes in
+me,&#8221; Madge had told herself; and then
+she had thought of something that Mr.
+Salome had said to her a few days ago,
+something that she would have considered
+it very unbecoming to repeat, even to
+Eleanor, but the memory of which, thus
+suddenly recalled, had filled her with such
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span>
+hopefulness that she had sped homeward
+to the mahogany table almost with a conviction
+of success. Was it in that sudden
+rush of hopefulness, so mistaken, alas, so
+groundless, that she had left the little
+morocco case lying about? Or had she
+pulled it out of her pocket with her handkerchief?
+Or had she really had her
+pocket picked?</p>
+<p>What wonder that in the stress of
+anxious speculation she was making bad
+work of her painting! This would never
+do! She took a long stride backwards,
+and over went Miss Ricker&#8217;s long-suffering
+easel, prone upon the floor, carrying with
+it a neighbouring structure of similar unsteadiness,
+which was, however, happily
+empty, save for a couple of jam-pots filled
+with turpentine and oil! These plunged
+with headlong impetuosity into space, forming
+little rivers of stickiness, as they rolled
+half-way across the room. Everybody
+rushed to the rescue, while Miss Ricker
+gazed upon the catastrophe with stony
+displeasure.</p>
+<p>By a miracle, the canvas, though &#8220;butter-side-down,&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span>
+had escaped unscathed.
+Not until she was assured of this did the
+culprit speak.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m a disgrace to the class,&#8221; she said,
+&#8220;and expulsion is the only remedy. Tell
+Mr. Salome that I have forfeited every
+right to membership, and it&#8217;s quite possible
+that I may never exaggerate another
+detail as long as I live.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Time&#8217;s up in two minutes,&#8221; Mary
+Downing remarked, in her matter-of-fact
+voice, as she dabbed some yellow-ochre
+upon her subject&#8217;s chin. &#8220;I rather think
+you&#8217;ll come back to-morrow.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But I do think it&#8217;s somebody&#8217;s else
+turn to work behind her,&#8221; said Josephine
+Wilkes.</p>
+<p>Miss Ricker gave a faint, assenting
+smile.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think Miss Ricker is very much indebted
+to Artful Madge,&#8221; Harriet Wells
+declared. &#8220;There isn&#8217;t another girl in
+the class who could have knocked that
+easel over without damaging the picture.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Practice makes perfect,&#8221; some one
+observed; and then, time being called,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span>
+everybody began talking at once, and
+wit and wisdom were alike lost upon the
+company.</p>
+<p>But Artful Madge was not to be lightly
+consoled.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mother,&#8221; she said, that same afternoon,
+as she came into the little sitting-room
+over the front entry, where her
+mother was stitching on the sewing-machine,
+&#8220;I think I should like to do
+something useful. I&#8217;m kind of tired of
+art.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Madge had been helping wash the
+luncheon dishes, and was beginning to
+wonder whether her talents were not,
+perhaps, of a purely domestic order.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should think you <i>would</i> be tired of
+it!&#8221; said Mrs. Burtwell, in perfect good
+faith, as she snipped the thread at the
+end of a seam. &#8220;How you can make up
+your mind to spend all your days bedaubing
+your clothes with those nasty paints
+passes my comprehension.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But sometimes I daub the canvas,&#8221;
+Madge protested, with unwonted meekness,
+as she drew a grey woollen sock over
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span>
+her hand, and pounced upon a small hole
+in the toe; and at that very instant, which
+Madge was whimsically regarding as a possible
+turning-point in her career, the doorbell
+rang.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A gintleman to see you, Miss,&#8221; said
+Nora, a moment later, handing Madge a
+card.</p>
+<p>&#8220;To see me?&#8221; asked Madge, incredulously,
+as she read the name, &#8220;Mr. Philip
+Spriggs! Are you sure he didn&#8217;t ask
+for Father?&#8221;</p>
+<p>But Nora was quite clear that she had
+not made a mistake.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Who is it, Madge?&#8221; Mrs. Burtwell
+queried.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s probably a book agent,&#8221; said
+Madge, as she went down-stairs to the
+parlour, rather begrudging the interruption
+to her darning bout.</p>
+<p>Standing by the window, hat in hand,
+was an elderly man of a somewhat severe
+cast of countenance, as unsuggestive as
+possible, in his general appearance, of the
+comparatively frivolous name which a satirical
+fate had bestowed upon him.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span></p>
+<p>As Madge entered the room he observed,
+without advancing a step toward
+her: &#8220;You are Miss Burtwell, I suppose.
+I came to answer your letter in person.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My letter?&#8221; asked Madge, with a
+confused impression that something remarkable
+was going forward.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; this one,&#8221;&mdash;and he drew from
+his pocket the red morocco miniature case.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; cried Madge, &#8220;how glad I am
+to have it!&mdash;and how kind you are to
+bring it!&mdash;and, oh! that dreadful letter!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The three aspects of the case had
+chased each other in rapid succession
+through her mind, and each had got its-self
+expressed in turn.</p>
+<p>Mr. Spriggs did not relax a muscle of
+his face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I found this on a table in the Public
+Library,&#8221; he stated. &#8220;Your directions
+were so explicit that I could do no less
+than be guided by them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was something so solemn, almost
+judicial, about her guest that Madge became
+quite awestruck.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Won&#8217;t you please take a seat?&#8221; she
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span>
+begged, humbly. &#8220;I think I could apologise
+better if you were to sit down.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then you consider that there is occasion
+to apologise?&#8221; he asked, taking the
+proffered chair, and resting his hat upon
+the floor.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed, yes!&#8221; said Madge. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+perfectly dreadful to think of the letter
+having fallen into the hands of any one
+so&mdash;&#8221; and she broke short off.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So what?&#8221; asked Mr. Spriggs.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, so dignified and so&mdash;very different
+from&mdash;&#8221; but again she found herself
+unable to finish her sentence.</p>
+<p>&#8220;From a &#8216;dear pickpocket?&#8217;&#8221; he suggested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did I say &#8216;dear pickpocket&#8217;?&#8221; cried
+Madge in consternation. &#8220;I didn&#8217;t know
+I said &#8216;dear.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I suppose you desired to make a
+favourable impression, in order to get
+your picture back. There are some very
+good points about the picture,&#8221; he remarked,
+as he took it out of the case and
+examined it. &#8220;There&#8217;s a good deal of
+drawing in it, and considerable colour.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you know about pictures?&#8221; asked
+Madge with eager interest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not much. I&#8217;ve heard more or less
+art-jargon in my day; that&#8217;s all.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Madge looked at him suspiciously.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I am sure you will agree with me that
+I don&#8217;t know much,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;when
+I tell you that I prefer your pen-and-ink
+work to the miniature. &#8216;The Consequences
+of Crime&#8217; is full of humour; and
+I have been given to understand that you
+can&#8217;t produce an effect without skill,&mdash;what
+you would probably dignify with the
+name of technique. The second small
+boy on the right is not at all bad.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You do know about art!&#8221; cried
+Madge. &#8220;I rather think you must be an
+artist.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. Spriggs did not exactly change
+countenance; he only looked as if he
+were either trying to smile or trying not to.
+Madge wished she could make out just
+what were the lines and shadows in his face
+that produced this singular expression.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you never thought of doing anything
+for the papers?&#8221; he asked.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Thought of it! I&#8217;ve spent four dollars
+and sixty-one cents in postage within
+the last ten months, and he always comes
+back to the ark!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;He&#8217;? Comes back where?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;To the ark. I call the package
+&#8216;Noah&#8217;s Dove&#8217; because it never finds a
+place to roost.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The original dove did, after a while.&#8221;
+Mr. Spriggs spoke as if he were taking
+the serious, historical view of the incident.
+&#8220;I imagine yours will, one of these days.
+Have you got anything you could show
+me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you really care to see?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I can&#8217;t tell till you show me,&#8221; he said
+cautiously; but this time there was something
+so very like a smile among the stern
+features that Madge could see just what
+the line was that produced it.</p>
+<p>She flew to her room, and seized Noah&#8217;s
+Dove, and in five minutes that much-travelled
+bird had spread his wings,&mdash;all
+six of them,&mdash;for the delectation of this
+mysterious critic.</p>
+<p>Madge watched him, as he leaned back
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span>
+in his chair and examined the sketches.
+He seemed inclined to take his time over
+them, and she felt sure that her Student
+had never before been so seriously considered.</p>
+<p>At last Mr. Spriggs laid the drawings
+upon the table and fixed his thoughtful
+gaze upon the artist. His contemplation
+of her countenance was prolonged a good
+many seconds, yet Madge did not feel in
+the least self-conscious; it never once
+occurred to her that this severe old gentleman
+was thinking of anything but her
+Student. She found herself taking a very
+low view of her work, and quite ready to
+believe that perhaps, after all, those unappreciative
+editors knew what they were
+about.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you ever sent these to the <i>Gay
+Head?</i>&#8221; her visitor inquired casually.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no! I should not dare send anything
+to the <i>Gay Head!</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why! Because it&#8217;s the best paper in
+the country. It would never look at my
+things.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It certainly won&#8217;t if you never give it
+a chance. You had better try it,&#8221; he went
+on, in a tone that carried a good deal of
+weight. &#8220;You know they can do no
+worse than return it; and I should think,
+myself, that the <i>Gay Head</i> was quite as
+well worth expending postage-stamps on
+as any other paper. Mind; I don&#8217;t say
+they&#8217;ll take your things,&mdash;but it&#8217;s worth
+trying for. By the way,&#8221; he added as he
+rose to go; &#8220;I wouldn&#8217;t send No. 5 if I
+were you; it&#8217;s a chestnut.&#8221;</p>
+<p>He had picked up his hat and stood on
+his feet so unexpectedly that Madge was
+afraid he would escape her without a word
+of thanks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, please wait just a minute,&#8221; she
+begged. &#8220;I haven&#8217;t told you a single
+word of how grateful I am. I feel somehow
+as if,&mdash;as if,&mdash;<i>the worst were over!</i>&#8221;
+This time Mr. Spriggs smiled broadly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you will send Noah&#8217;s Dove to
+the <i>Gay Head?</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I will, because you advise me to.
+But you mustn&#8217;t think I&#8217;m conceited
+enough to expect him to roost there.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></p>
+<p>And that very evening the dove spread
+his wings,&mdash;only five of them now,&mdash;and
+set forth on the most ambitious flight he
+had yet ventured upon.</p>
+<p>In the next few days Madge found her
+thoughts much occupied with speculations
+regarding her mysterious visitor; everything
+about him, his name, his errand,
+both the matter and the manner of his
+speech, roused and piqued her curiosity.
+It was clear that he knew a great deal
+about art. And yet, if he were an artist,
+she would certainly be familiar with his
+name. Whatever his calling, he was sure
+to be distinguished. Those judicial eyes
+would be severe with any work more pretentious
+than that of a mere student; that
+firm, discriminating hand,&mdash;she had been
+struck with the way he handled her
+sketches,&mdash;would never have signed a poor
+performance. Perhaps it was Elihu Vedder
+in disguise,&mdash;or Sargent, or Abbey!
+Since the descent of the fairy-godmother
+upon the class a year ago, no miracle
+seemed impossible. And yet, the miracle
+which actually befell would have seemed,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span>
+of all imaginable ones, the most incredible.
+It took place, too, in the simplest, most
+unpremeditated manner, as miracles have
+a way of doing.</p>
+<p>One evening, about a week after the
+return of the miniature, the family were
+gathered together as usual about the argand
+burner. It was a warm evening, and
+Ned, who was to devote his energies to
+the cause of electrical science, when once
+he was delivered from the thraldom of
+the classics, had made some disparaging
+remarks about the heat engendered by
+gas.</p>
+<p>&#8220;By the way,&#8221; said Mr. Burtwell, &#8220;that,
+reminds me! I have a letter for you,
+Madge. I met the postman just after I
+left the door this noon, and he handed me
+this with my gas bill. Who&#8217;s your New
+York correspondent?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; said Madge,
+with entire sincerity, for it was far too
+early to look for any word from the <i>Gay
+Head</i>.</p>
+<p>The letter had the appearance of a
+friendly note, being enclosed in a square
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span>
+envelope, undecorated with any business
+address. Madge opened it, and glanced
+at the signature, which was at the bottom
+of the first page. The blood rushed to
+her face as her eye fell upon the name:
+&#8220;Philip Spriggs, Art Editor of the <i>Gay
+Head</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She read the letter very slowly, with a
+curious feeling that this was a dream, and
+she must be careful not to wake herself
+up. This was what she read:</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>&#8220;<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>My dear Miss Burtwell</span>,</p>
+<p>&#8220;We like Noah&#8217;s Dove as much as I
+thought we should. We shall hope to get
+him out some time next year. Can&#8217;t you
+work up the pickpocket idea? That small
+boy, the second one from the right, is
+nucleus enough for another set. In fact,
+it is the small-boy element in your Student
+that makes him original&mdash;and true to life.
+We think that you have the knack, and
+count upon you for better work yet. We
+take pleasure in handing you herewith a
+check for this.</p>
+<p style='margin-left:0.0em; margin-right:0.0em; text-align:right'><span style='margin-right: 3.125em;'>&#8220;Yours truly,</span><br />
+<span style='margin-right: 1.0em;'>&#8220;<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Philip Spriggs</span>.&#8221;</span><br /></p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></div>
+<p>The check was a very plain one on thin
+yellow paper, not in the least what she had
+looked for from a great publishing-house;
+but the amount inscribed in the upper
+left-hand corner of the modest slip of
+paper seemed to her worthy the proudest
+traditions of the <i>Gay Head</i> itself. The
+check was for sixty dollars.</p>
+<p>As Madge gradually assured herself
+that she was awake, the first sensation
+that took shape in her mind was the very
+ridiculous one of regret that the mahogany
+table should have been deprived
+of its legitimate share in this great event.
+And then she remembered that it was her
+father himself who had handed her the
+letter.</p>
+<p>She was still wondering how she should
+break the news to him, when she found
+herself giving an odd little laugh, and asking,
+&#8220;Father, what is your favourite line
+of ocean steamers?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. Burtwell, who had really felt no
+special curiosity as to his daughter&#8217;s correspondent,
+was once more immersed in
+his evening paper. He looked up, at her
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span>
+words, as all the family did, and was
+struck by the expression of her face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What makes you ask that?&#8221; he demanded
+sharply.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Because I know you always keep
+your promises, and&mdash;there&#8217;s a letter you
+might like to read.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. Burtwell took the letter, frowning
+darkly, a habit of his when he was
+puzzled or anxious. He read the letter
+through twice, and then he examined
+the check. He did not speak at once.
+There was something so portentous in
+this deliberation, and something so very
+like emotion in his kind, sensible face,
+that even Ned was awed into respectful
+silence.</p>
+<p>At last Mr. Burtwell turned his eyes to
+his daughter&#8217;s face, where everything,
+even suspense itself, seemed arrested, and
+said, in a matter-of-fact tone:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think you had better go by the
+North German Lloyd. Shall you start
+this week?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you darling!&#8221; cried Madge, throwing
+her arms about her father&#8217;s neck, regardless
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span>
+of letter and check, which, being
+still in his hands, were called upon to bear
+the brunt of this attack; &#8220;How can I ever
+make up my mind to leave you?&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='THE_IDEAS_OF_POLLY' id='THE_IDEAS_OF_POLLY'></a>
+<h2>The Ideas of Polly</h2>
+</div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>CHAPTER I</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1em;margin-bottom:30px;'>DAN&#8217;S PLIGHT</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Well</i>, Mis&#8217; Lapham, I <i>am</i> sorry to
+hear it, I <i>must</i> say! It <i>doos</i> seem&#8217;s
+though you&#8217;d <i>had</i> your share of affliction!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Henry Dodge always emphasised
+a great many of her words, which habit
+gave to her remarks an impression of
+peculiar sincerity and warmth; a perfectly
+correct impression, too, it must be admitted.
+Her needle, moreover, being
+quite as energetic as her tongue, she was
+a valuable member of the sewing-circle, at
+which function she was now assisting with
+much spirit.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Lapham accepted this tribute to
+her many trials with becoming modesty.
+She was a dull, colourless woman whose
+sole distinction lay in the visitations of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span>
+affliction, and it is not too much to affirm
+that she was proud of them. She was
+sewing, not too rapidly, on a very long
+seam, which occupation was typical of her
+course of life. She sighed heavily in
+response to her neighbour&#8217;s words of sympathy,
+and said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;It did seem hard that it should have
+been Dan, just as he was beginning to
+be a help to his uncle, and all. But I
+s&#8217;pose we&#8217;d ought to have been prepared
+for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s been quite a pause in the
+death-roll,&#8221; the Widow Criswell observed.
+She was engaged in sewing a button on a
+boy&#8217;s jacket with a black thread.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How long is it since Eliza went?&#8221;
+asked Miss Louisa Bailey, pursuing the
+widow&#8217;s train of thought.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seven years this month. She began
+to cough at Christmas, and by Washington&#8217;s
+Birthday she was in her grave.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And Jane? They didn&#8217;t go very far
+apart, did they?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, Jane died eleven months before
+Eliza; and their mother went three years
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span>
+before that, and their father when Dan
+was a baby; that&#8217;s goin&#8217; on sixteen
+years.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Well</i>, you <i>have</i> had a hard time, I
+<i>will</i> say!&#8221; exclaimed Mrs. Dodge. &#8220;Your
+Martha losing her little girl, and John&#8217;s
+wife breaking her collar-bone, and all, and
+now <i>this</i> to be gone through with! I
+<i>should</i> think you&#8217;d feel <i>discouraged</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do; real discouraged. But I s&#8217;pose
+it&#8217;s no more than I&#8217;d ought to expect,
+with such an inheritance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have there been many cases of lung-trouble
+on your side of the family, Mrs.
+Lapham?&#8221; Miss Bailey inquired with
+respectful interest.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No; Sister Fitch was the first case.&#8221;</p>
+<p>For a few seconds, conversation languished,
+and only the snip of Mrs.
+Royce&#8217;s scissors could be heard, and the
+soft rustle of cotton cloth. The sewing-circle
+was going on in the church vestry
+where there was a faint odour from the
+kerosene lamps, which had just been
+lighted. The Widow Criswell was the first
+to break the silence.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Polly ain&#8217;t showed no symptoms yet,
+has she?&#8221; she asked, testing one of the
+buttons as if sceptical of her thread.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, no; not yet. But then Dan
+seemed as smart as anybody six months
+ago, and just look at him to-day!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The mental eyes of a score of women
+were turned upon Dan, as he was daily
+seen, round-shouldered and hollow-chested,
+toiling along the snowy country roads
+to and from school, coughing as he went.
+The topic was not an uncongenial one to
+the members of the sewing-circle, who
+had really very little to talk about. So
+absorbed were they, indeed, in the discussion
+of poor Dan&#8217;s fate, and of the long
+list of casualties that had preceded it, that
+no one noticed the entrance of a young
+girl, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, who
+had come to help with the supper. There
+was an air of peculiar freshness about her,
+and as she stood in her blue dress and
+white apron near the door, her ruddy
+brown hair shining in the lamp-light, the
+effect was like the opening of a window in
+a close room. Her step was arrested in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span>
+the act of coming forward, and, as she
+paused to listen, the pretty colour was
+quite blotted out of her cheeks.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t think Dan&#8217;s will be a lingering
+case,&#8221; Mrs. Lapham was saying. &#8220;The
+lingering cases are the most trying.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly stood motionless. Was it true
+then, that which she had dreaded, that
+which she had shrunk from facing? Was
+it more than a cold that Dan had got?
+Was Dan really ill? Her Dan? Really
+ill? Her heart was beating like a trip-hammer,
+but no one seemed to hear
+it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Queer that the doctors don&#8217;t find any
+cure for lung-trouble,&#8221; Mrs. Royce was
+saying. &#8220;Seems as though there must
+be some way of stopping it, if you could
+only find it out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you tried Kinderling&#8217;s Certain
+Cure?&#8221; asked Mrs. Dodge. &#8220;They do
+say that it&#8217;s <i>very</i> efficacious.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, no,&#8221; said Mrs. Lapham; &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t hold much to medicines myself;
+but if I did I should think it just a wilful
+waste to try them for Dan. The
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span>
+boy&#8217;s doomed, to begin with, and there&#8217;s
+no help for it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There <i>is</i> a help for it, there <i>shall</i> be
+a help for it!&#8221; cried a voice, vibrating
+with youthful energy and emotion. &#8220;I
+don&#8217;t see how you can talk so, Aunt Lucia!
+Dan <i>isn&#8217;t</i> doomed! he <i>sha&#8217;n&#8217;t</i> die!
+I won&#8217;t <i>let</i> him die!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The women looked at Polly and then
+they looked at one another, fairly abashed
+by the girl&#8217;s spirit; all, that is, excepting
+Aunt Lucia, who was not impressionable
+enough to feel anything but the superficial
+rudeness of Polly&#8217;s outbreak.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;ll do, Polly,&#8221; she said, with a
+spiritless severity. &#8220;This is no place for
+a display of temper.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The colour had come back into the
+girl&#8217;s face now, and there were hot tears
+in her eyes. She turned without a word
+and left the room, nor was she seen again
+among the waitresses who came to hand
+the tea.</p>
+<p>Polly was rather ashamed of having run
+away from the sewing-circle, and she had
+serious thoughts of going back. It was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span>
+the first time in her life that she had
+allowed herself to be routed by circumstances;
+but somehow she felt as if she
+could not find it in her heart to hand
+about tea and seed-cakes, sandwiches and
+quince-preserve, to people who could think
+such dreadful thoughts of Dan. And
+then, besides, she knew what a pleasant
+surprise it would be for Dan to have her
+all to himself for an evening. Uncle Seth
+would be sure to go for his weekly game
+of checkers with Deacon White, and she
+could help Dan with his algebra and
+Latin, and see that he was warm and
+&#8220;comfy,&#8221; and perhaps find that he did
+not cough so much as he did the evening
+before.</p>
+<p>They had a very cozy evening, she and
+Dan, just as she had planned it in every
+particular but one, namely, the cough.
+There was no improvement in that since
+the night before, and for the first time the
+boy spoke of it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I say, Polly! Isn&#8217;t it stupid, the way
+this cold hangs on? Do you remember
+how long it is since I caught it?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, no, Dan. It does seem a good
+while, doesn&#8217;t it? I guess it must be
+about over by this time. Don&#8217;t you know
+how suddenly those things go?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dan, who was on his way to bed, had
+stopped, close to the air-tight stove, to
+warm his hands.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish it were summer, Polly,&#8221; he said,
+with a wistful look in his great black eyes
+that cut Polly to the heart. &#8220;It&#8217;s been
+such a cold winter; and a fellow gets kind
+of tired of barking all the time.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;ll be spring before you know it,
+Dan, you see if it isn&#8217;t, and you&#8217;ll forget
+you ever had a cold in your life.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And when, half an hour later, the evening
+was over, and Polly was safe in her
+bed, she buried her head in her pillow and
+cried herself to sleep.</p>
+<p>But tears and bewailings were not a
+natural resource with Polly, whose forte
+was action. Her first thought in the
+morning was: what should she do about
+it? Something must be done, of course,
+and she was the only one to do it. What
+it was she had not the faintest idea, but
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span>
+then it was her business to find out. Here
+was she, eighteen years old, strong and
+hearty, and with good practical common
+sense, the natural guardian and protector
+of her younger brother. It was time she
+bestirred herself!</p>
+<p>As a first step, she got up with the sun
+and dressed herself, and then she slipped
+down-stairs to the parlour where such of
+her father&#8217;s books as had been rescued from
+auction were lodged; her father had been
+the village doctor. All the medical works
+had been sold, and many other volumes
+besides, but among those remaining was
+an old encyclop&aelig;dia which had proved to
+Polly a mine of information on many subjects.
+As she took down the third volume,
+she heard a portentous <i>Meaouw!</i> and
+there, outside the window, stood Mufty,
+the grey cat, rubbing himself against the
+frosty pane. Polly opened the window
+and Mufty sprang in, bringing a puff of
+frosty air in his wake. Without so much
+as a word of thanks he walked over to the
+stove. Finding it, however, cold, as only
+an empty air-tight stove can be cold, he
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span>
+strolled, with a disengaged air, beneath
+which lurked a very distinct intention, toward
+the only warm object in the room,
+namely, Polly in her woollen gown. She
+had the volume open on the table before
+her, and was deep in its perusal, murmuring
+as she read.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Appears to have committed its ravages
+from the earliest time,&#8221; Polly read,
+&#8220;and its distribution is probably universal,
+though far from equal.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At this point Mufty lifted himself lightly
+in the air, after the manner peculiar to
+cats, and landed in Polly&#8217;s lap. After
+switching his tail across her eyes once or
+twice, and rubbing himself against the
+book in rather a disturbing way, he at last
+settled down, and began purring vigorously
+in token of satisfaction. The room
+was very cold, and Polly, without interrupting
+her reading, was glad to bury her
+hands in the thick fur. Presently the
+colour in her cheeks grew brighter and her
+breath came quicker. There <i>was</i> a way,
+after all! People had been saved, people
+a good deal sicker than Dan,&mdash;saved by a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span>
+change of climate. What could be simpler?
+Just to pick Dan up and carry him
+off! And such fun, too!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mufty,&#8221; she whispered, excitedly,
+&#8220;Mufty, what should you say to Dan and
+me going away and never coming back
+again?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Brrrrr, brrrrr</i>,&#8221; quoth Mufty.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knew you would approve! You
+know how necessary it is, and you think
+it best to do it; don&#8217;t you, Mufty?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Brrrr, brrrrrrrrrr</i>,&#8221; quoth Mufty,
+again.</p>
+<p>&#8220;O Mufty, what a darling you are, to
+approve! And there isn&#8217;t really any
+one&#8217;s opinion that I care more about!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She got up and went to the window,
+while Mufty, not to be dislodged, hastily
+established himself across her shoulder,
+his fore paws well down her back, his tail
+contentedly waving before her eyes. The
+picture which he thus turned his back
+upon was a wintry one.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Cold morning, isn&#8217;t it, Mufty?&#8221; said
+Polly. &#8220;No kind of a climate for a delicate
+person.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Brrrr, brrrrrr!</i>&#8221; Mufty was digging
+a claw into her shoulder to adjust
+himself more comfortably.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Ow!&#8221; cried Polly. Then, lifting him
+down: &#8220;Mufty, you&#8217;re a very intelligent
+cat, and I haven&#8217;t a doubt that your
+judgment is as penetrating as your claws.
+All the same, I guess you&#8217;d better get
+down and come with me and help Susan
+get the breakfast. Don&#8217;t you hear her
+shaking down the kitchen stove?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Whereupon Mufty, finding himself
+dropped upon the coldly unsympathetic
+ingrain carpet, desisted from further encouraging
+remarks.</p>
+<p>Polly was a schoolgirl still, though she
+was nearing the dignity of graduation.
+She had no special taste for study, but
+she cherished the Yankee reverence for
+education, and although it was not quite
+clear to her how Latin declensions and
+algebraic symbols were to help her in
+after-life, she committed them to memory
+with a very good grace, and enjoyed all
+the satisfaction of work for work&#8217;s sake.</p>
+<p>It happened, therefore, that the pursuit
+of learning interfered for several hours
+with the far more important object which
+she had at heart to-day; and it was not
+until two o&#8217;clock that she found herself
+at liberty to do what every nerve and fibre
+of her young organism was straining to
+accomplish.</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a>
+<img src='images/illus-142.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 359px; height: 564px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 359px;'>
+&#8220;Mufty hastily established himself across her shoulder.&#8221;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m not going right home,&#8221; she said
+to Dan; &#8220;I&#8217;ve got an errand to do.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Polly&#8217;s got an idea,&#8221; Dan said to himself,
+struck with the eagerness in her face,
+and the haste with which she walked
+away. &#8220;What a girl she is for ideas, any
+way!&#8221; and he trudged along the snowy
+road with the other boys, getting rather
+out of breath in the effort to keep up
+with them.</p>
+<p>Polly, meanwhile, stepped swiftly on
+her way. She was thinking of Dan. He
+at least was a natural student and had always
+led his class. She was not only
+fond of Dan, but proud of him, too. He
+was a handsome boy, with those clear,
+dark eyes of his in which a less partial observer
+than Polly might have read the
+promise of fine things.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; Polly said to herself, as she
+sped along the road that glittering winter&#8217;s
+day: &#8220;Dan isn&#8217;t just an ordinary
+boy. He&#8217;s an unusual boy. Why, the
+world couldn&#8217;t <i>afford</i> to lose Dan!&#8221; and
+she looked into the faces of the passers-by,
+as if to challenge their acquiescence in
+this bold statement.</p>
+<p>Whether Dan was all that Polly thought
+him, only the future could prove,&mdash;that
+future that Polly was about to secure to
+him. If she idealised him a bit, why, all
+the better for Dan, and all the better for
+Polly, too. One thing is sure, that no
+one who could have looked into the sister&#8217;s
+heart that winter&#8217;s day would have
+doubted her for an instant when she said
+to herself:</p>
+<p>&#8220;He sha&#8217;n&#8217;t die! I won&#8217;t let him die!
+But, <i>oh! how I wish that cough were mine!</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>From her interview with the doctor,
+Polly brought away with her only one
+word, &#8220;<i>Colorado</i>&#8221;; and with that word
+shining like a great snowy peak in her
+imagination, she took another swift walk
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span>
+to a farmhouse on the outskirts of the
+village, where dwelt a man whose son had
+gone to Colorado three years ago.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Great place!&#8221; he told her; &#8220;Great
+place, Colorado! Mile up in the air!
+Prairie-dogs and Rocky Mountains! Big
+cattle ranches that could put all Fieldham
+in their vest pockets! Cold as thunder,
+hot as thunder! Blizzards and cyclones
+and water-spouts! Wind! Blow you
+right out of your boots! Cures sick
+folks? Oh, yes. Better than all the
+doctors. Braces &#8217;em right up&mdash;stands
+&#8217;em on their legs! Nothing like it, so
+Bill says. Costs a sight to get out there;
+oh, yes! Fifty dollars and fifteen cents!
+Queer about that fifteen cents. Seems
+as though they might ha&#8217; throwed that in
+on such a long trip&#8217;s that; but them railroads
+ain&#8217;t got no insides any way; and
+when you once git out there, why, <i>there
+you are!</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>The philosophy of that last remark appealed
+particularly to Polly. &#8220;When you
+once git out there, why, <i>there you are!</i>&#8221;
+Somehow it seemed to make everything
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span>
+perfectly simple and easy. Blizzards and
+cyclones? Yes, to be sure. But then
+it was the air that you went out for,
+Polly reasoned, that was what was
+going to cure you; and perhaps the
+more you got of it the quicker you
+would get cured. And Polly hurried
+home from her last visit, flushed and
+eager for the fray. She found her uncle
+in the barn putting up his horses.</p>
+<p>Mr. Seth Lapham was a good man;
+there could be no doubt about that.
+Nothing but a sincere and very efficient
+conscience could have so tempered his
+natural penuriousness as to cause him to
+receive into his family a mere sister-in-law&#8217;s
+children and allow them to &#8220;want
+for nothing&#8221;; that, too, at a time when
+his own children, John and Martha, were
+still a bill of expense to him, before their
+respective marriages. For many years,
+Uncle Seth had conscientiously, if not
+lavishly, fed and clothed the little orphans,
+whose entire patrimony in the Savings
+Bank scarcely yielded interest enough to
+pay for their boots and shoes; but it remained
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span>
+for the present crisis to prove
+him as open-minded as he was conscientious.
+For, no sooner had Polly finished
+the rapid exposition of her great plan&mdash;how
+they were to draw the money from the
+bank to pay for their tickets and start
+them in their new life, and how they were
+to earn their own living when once they
+got started&mdash;than he was ready to admit
+the reasonableness of it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And when you once get out there,
+why, there you are!&#8221; Polly declared, in her
+most convincing tone.</p>
+<p>As she stood before him, flushed and
+breathless, prepared to do battle for Dan
+to the very last extremity, her uncle gave
+old Dick a slap that sent him tramping
+into his stall, and then said, with the
+drawling accent peculiar to him:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Polly, you&#8217;re a pretty sensible
+girl. If the doctor says so, I guess it&#8217;s
+wuth trying.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then Polly, who had so courageously
+braced herself for the contest, experienced
+an overwhelming revulsion of feeling, and
+a great wave of gratitude and compunction
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span>
+swept over her. To Uncle Seth&#8217;s
+speechless astonishment she flung her
+arms around his big neck, and, with some
+thing very like a sob, she cried:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Uncle Seth, I never loved you
+half enough!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Uncle Seth bore it very well, all things
+considered. He got pretty red in the
+face, but happily a full grizzly beard kept
+the secret of his blushes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, Polly!&#8221; he said, pounding away
+on her shoulder in an attempt to be consolatory;
+&#8220;you&#8217;ve always ben a good
+girl; not a mite of trouble, not a mite!&#8221;</p>
+<p>They walked up to the house, Polly
+holding the rough, hairy hand as tightly as
+if it had been a solid chunk of gold. Before
+the short walk to the kitchen door
+was finished they had become sworn conspirators,
+and Uncle Seth was so entirely
+in the spirit of the piece that he held Polly
+back a minute to say, in a sepulchral
+whisper,</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just you leave your Aunt Lucia to
+me. I&#8217;ll fix her.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly never knew all the pains Uncle
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span>
+Seth was at to &#8220;fix&#8221; Aunt Lucia, but
+by hook or crook the &#8220;fixing&#8221; was accomplished,
+and Aunt Lucia had given a
+mournful consent.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I shouldn&#8217;t feel it right,&#8221; she declared,
+&#8220;to let you suppose I thought there was
+any hope of its curing Dan. That boy&#8217;s
+doomed, if ever a boy was, and I don&#8217;t
+know how you&#8217;ll ever manage with the
+funeral and all, way out there in Colorado,
+far from kith and kin. But your Uncle
+Seth says you&#8217;d better try it, and I ain&#8217;t
+one to oppose just for the sake of opposin&#8217;.
+I&#8217;ve been through too much for that.
+Only I warn you; mind, you don&#8217;t forget
+I warned you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly listened to Aunt Lucia&#8217;s lugubrious
+views with scarcely a twinge of alarm,
+and in five minutes she had plunged into
+preparations for the journey.</p>
+<p>As for Dan, the mere thought of Colorado
+seemed to revive him. &#8220;Larks&#8221;
+of any description had always been very
+much to his taste, but the unending &#8220;lark&#8221;
+of an escape into the big world with Polly
+filled him with a fairly riotous joy.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></p>
+<p>And so it happened that by the time
+the March thaws were setting in and the
+March winds were getting ready for their
+boisterous attack, Polly and Dan had
+slipped away, and were travelling as fast
+as steam could carry them toward the
+high, health-giving region of the Rocky
+Mountains.</p>
+<p>&#8220;A harebrained venture as ever was!&#8221;
+Miss Louisa Bailey declared when she
+heard of it. &#8220;I don&#8217;t see what Mr. and
+Mrs. Lapham were thinking of, to countenance
+such a step!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The monthly sewing-circle had come
+round again, and Mrs. Lapham, whose
+turn it was to look after the supper, had
+stepped out of the room for a moment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I don&#8217;t know but it&#8217;s about as
+well,&#8221; the Widow Criswell rejoined, sighing
+profoundly. She was more out of
+spirits than usual to-day, for circumstances,
+otherwise known as Mrs. Royce, the
+president of the sewing-circle, had forced
+into her hands a baby&#8217;s pinafore, the
+cheerful suggestiveness of which could
+only serve to deepen her gloom. &#8220;The
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span>
+boy&#8217;s doomed, wherever he is, and Sister
+Lapham never had any real taste for sick-nursing.
+She&#8217;s spared a sight o&#8217; trouble
+and expense.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Well</i>,&#8221; said Mrs. Henry Dodge, winding
+a needleful of No. 20 thread off the
+spool, with the hissing sound familiar to
+the ears of the seamstress, and breaking
+it off with a snap, &#8220;<i>I</i> think it&#8217;s the very
+<i>best</i> thing that could have been <i>done</i>. The
+minute I <i>saw</i> that girl&#8217;s face last sewing-circle,
+I <i>knew</i> she&#8217;d make out to <i>save that
+boy</i>. Mark my words, he&#8217;ll outlive us all
+<i>yet!</i> I declare, I always <i>did</i> like Polly
+Fitch. She reminds me of <i>myself</i> when <i>I</i>
+was a girl!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='chapter' />
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>CHAPTER II</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1em;margin-bottom:30px;'>WESTWARD HO!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pike&#8217;s Peak or Bust!&#8221; was the chosen
+motto of those early pilgrims who,
+thirty-odd years ago, crossed the continent
+in a &#8220;prairie schooner,&#8221; escorted by
+a cavalry guard to keep Indian marauders
+at a respectful distance; and &#8220;Pike&#8217;s
+Peak or Bust!&#8221; was the motto chosen by
+Polly and Dan, our two young modern
+pilgrims, as they journeyed with greater
+ease, but with no less courage and venturesomeness,
+across the two thousand
+miles intervening between quiet Fieldham
+and their goal.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Pike&#8217;s Peak or Bust!&#8221; No one looking
+into the bright young faces turned so
+bravely westward ho! could have had
+any doubt as to which of the two alternatives
+hinted at in that picturesque motto
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span>
+would be fulfilled for them. On they
+journeyed, on and on, past populous
+cities, across great rivers, over vast plains
+brown with last year&#8217;s stubble or white
+with newly fallen snow, till at last there
+came a morning when they awoke in the
+tingling dawn, and, looking forth across
+miles of shadowy prairie, beheld a great
+white dome cut clear against a sapphire
+sky. On the train rushed, on and on,
+straight toward that snowy dome, and, as
+they drew nearer, other mountains began
+to define themselves on either side the
+central peak, and presently a town revealed
+itself, and they knew that it could
+be no other than Colorado Springs, sleeping
+there at the foot of the great range,
+all unconscious of the two young pilgrims,
+coming so confidingly to seek their fortunes
+within its borders.</p>
+<p>Their first spring and summer were a
+very happy time, of which Polly and Dan
+could relate a hundred noteworthy incidents.
+They rented a tiny cottage of
+three rooms in the unfashionable part of
+the town where rents were low. Here
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span>
+was a bit of ground all about, and a narrow
+porch that looked straight into the face
+of the splendid old Peak; and here they
+lived the merriest of lives on the smallest
+and most precarious of incomes; for they
+were determined to infringe as little as
+possible upon the slender capital, snugly
+stowed away in a Colorado bank.</p>
+<p>Dan soon found employment in a
+livery-stable at fifty cents a day. His
+chief business was the agreeable one of
+delivering &#8220;teams&#8221; and saddle-horses to
+pleasure-seekers at the north end of the
+town, riding back to the stable again on a
+&#8220;led horse&#8221; provided for the purpose. If
+not a very ambitious calling, it was, at
+least, exceedingly good fun, and it also
+had the merit of conforming to the doctor&#8217;s
+directions. &#8220;Don&#8217;t let him get
+behind a counter or into any stuffy back-office,&#8221;
+the doctor had said to Polly.
+&#8220;Whatever he does, let it keep him in
+the open air as much as possible.&#8221; Had
+the very obvious wisdom of this advice
+required demonstration, Dan&#8217;s rapid improvement
+would have been sufficient.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></p>
+<p>They did not shock the sensibilities of
+the sewing-circle by writing home exactly
+what the employment was that Dan had
+found, while, for themselves, Polly had her
+own little ways of embellishing the somewhat
+prosaic situation. She dubbed the
+young stable-boy Hercules, and always
+spoke of the establishment he served as
+&#8220;The Aug&aelig;ans.&#8221; Nor did her invention
+fail when, a month or two later, Dan got
+a place at somewhat higher wages as
+druggist&#8217;s messenger; for then he was
+promptly informed that his name was
+Mercury, and that there were wings on
+his heels, though he could not himself see
+them, by reason of their being turned
+back, and visible only when his feet were
+in rapid motion!</p>
+<p>Meanwhile, Polly, too, was doing her
+part, though it had not yet proved very
+lucrative. When they first took the house,
+Dan painted a sign for her, bearing the
+following announcement:</p>
+<p style='margin-left:0.0em; margin-right:0.0em; text-align:center'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Fine Needlework and Embroidery to Order</span>.<br /></p>
+<p>But the spring and summer went by, and
+autumn came, and still the sign which
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span>
+had ornamented their house-front for
+so many months had as yet attracted
+the notice of only the impecunious class
+of customers their immediate neighbourhood
+afforded. Polly had gratefully
+taken coarse work at low prices, but
+she still hoped for better things. The
+street where their tiny cottage stood,
+though at the wrong end of the town, was
+a thoroughfare for pleasure parties driving
+to the great ca&ntilde;ons, and Polly never saw
+the approach of a pretty turnout without
+a thrill of hope that the occupants might
+be attracted by her sign. She knew herself
+to be a quick and skilful needlewoman,
+and she thought that if only she
+might once get started in well-paid work,
+Dan, who was growing stronger every
+day, might go on with his education at
+the Colorado College Preparatory School.
+She had found out all about the college,
+of which she had formed a very high
+opinion, and she told herself proudly that
+Dan had such a good mind that he would
+not need to study too hard.</p>
+<p>One evening in September they were
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span>
+clearing the supper table, preparatory to
+washing up the dishes, which ceremony
+was one of the numerous &#8220;larks&#8221; by which
+brother and sister found life diversified
+and enlivened.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mercury, I have an idea!&#8221; Polly suddenly
+cried.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Never saw the time you hadn&#8217;t,
+Polly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But this is a great idea, a really great
+one, because it includes all the little ones,
+like Milton&#8217;s universe in the crescent
+moon; don&#8217;t you remember?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My goody, Polly! But it must be a
+corker!&#8221;&mdash;and Dan was all attention.</p>
+<p>Now Polly, it is needless to repeat, was
+a young person of ideas; that was her
+strong point, and Dan at least considered
+her a marvel of ingenuity and invention.
+Their tiny sitting-room, where Dan slept,
+was a witness to her taste and originality.
+There were picturesque shelves which Dan
+had made in accordance with her directions;
+there were cheesecloth window-curtains,
+with rustic boughs in place of
+poles; there were barrels standing bottom
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span>
+upward for tables, draped with ancient
+&#8220;duds&#8221;&mdash;a changeable-silk skirt of her
+mother&#8217;s over one, a moth-eaten camel&#8217;s-hair
+shawl over another. The crack in
+the only mirror which a munificent landlord
+had provided was concealed by a
+kinikinick vine; a piece of Turkey-red at
+five cents a yard, their one bit of extravagance,
+converted Dan&#8217;s cot-bed into a
+canopy of state. And having heard Dan
+chant the praises of her &#8220;ideas&#8221; with
+gratifying persistence for a month past,
+Polly had begun to wonder whether they
+might not be turned to account.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s the latest idea, Polly?&#8221; Dan
+asked, seizing a dripping handful of what
+they were pleased to call their &#8220;family
+plate.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Dan, I want you to paint something
+more on my sign. Only two words;
+it won&#8217;t take you long.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What two words?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>Also Ideas!</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dan reflected a moment, and then he
+proceeded to dance a jig of delight, wildly
+waving his dish-cloth about Polly&#8217;s head.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Polly, you beat the world!&#8221; he cried.</p>
+<p>A house-painter lived next door, from
+whom Dan borrowed paint and brushes,
+and before they slept the old sign was
+further decorated with two magic words
+done in brilliant scarlet. The inscription
+now read:</p>
+<p style='margin-left:0.0em; margin-right:0.0em; text-align:center'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Fine Needlework and Embroidery to Order</span>.<br />
+<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Also Ideas</span><br /></p>
+<p>There was something positively dazzling
+about those two words in flaming scarlet,
+and Polly and Dan stepped out twice in
+the course of their early breakfast to have
+a look at them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you feel scared, Polly?&#8221; asked
+Dan, as he left her at her dish-washing.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Scared? Not I!&#8221; and she walked
+down the path with him, drying her hands
+on a dish-towel.</p>
+<p>It was a delicious morning in late September;
+the air dry and sparkling as a
+jewel, the mountains baring their shoulders
+to the morning sun. The Peak had already
+a dash of winter on his crown, but
+the barren slope of rock below looked like
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span>
+an impregnable fortress. Polly and Dan
+were never tired of wondering at the
+changing moods that played so gloriously
+upon that steadfast front.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Seems as if they must almost see him
+from Fieldham this morning, he&#8217;s so
+bright,&#8221; said Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s so,&#8221; Dan agreed. &#8220;I say,
+Polly, isn&#8217;t he enjoying himself, though?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Course he is!&#8221; Polly answered.
+&#8220;Isn&#8217;t everybody?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then Polly went back to her splashing
+water and flopping dish-towels, and was
+busy for an hour about the house. By
+and bye she sat herself down in the little
+porch and proceeded to put good honest
+stitches into a child&#8217;s frock, for the making
+of which she was to receive twenty-five
+cents. Not very good pay for a day&#8217;s
+work, but &#8220;twenty-five-hundred-million
+per cent. better than nothing,&#8221; as she had
+assured the doubtful Dan.</p>
+<p>Life looked very different to her since
+those two bright words had been added
+to the sign. Not that it had looked otherwise
+than pleasant before; but there was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span>
+so little originality in the idea of doing
+needlework that it had scarcely merited
+success, while this,&mdash;of course it must
+succeed!</p>
+<p>In truth, she had sat there hardly an hour,
+when she distinctly heard the occupant
+of a yellow buckboard read the sign, and
+then turn to her companion with a word
+of comment. Polly had always had an
+idea that one of those yellow buckboards
+would be the making of her fortune yet.
+The one in question was drawn by a
+pretty pair of ponies, and two young girls
+were in possession of it.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I have an idea they&#8217;ll notice it again,
+when they come back this way,&#8221; Polly
+surmised. &#8220;But if they&#8217;re going up the
+ca&ntilde;on they won&#8217;t come back till just as
+I&#8217;m getting dinner.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And, sure enough, the mutton stew
+was just beginning to simmer, when there
+came a rap at the door.</p>
+<p>The front door opened directly into the
+little sitting-room, and was never closed
+in pleasant weather. As Polly emerged
+from the kitchen, her face very red from
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span>
+hobnobbing with the stove, she found one
+of the girls of the yellow buckboard standing
+in the doorway.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good morning, Miss&#8211;&#8211;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Fitch. My name is Polly Fitch.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What a jolly name!&#8221; the visitor exclaimed.
+&#8220;I think you must be the one
+with ideas.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Polly, &#8220;Do you want
+one? Come in and take a seat.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do want an idea most dreadfully,&#8221;
+the young lady rejoined, taking the proffered
+chair. &#8220;I want something for a
+booby prize for a backgammon tournament.
+I don&#8217;t suppose anybody ever
+heard of a backgammon tournament before,
+but it&#8217;s going to be great fun. We
+are doing it to take the conceit out of a
+young man we know, who declares that
+there&#8217;s nothing in backgammon that he
+didn&#8217;t learn the first time he played it
+with his grandfather.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And you want a booby prize?&#8221; Polly
+looked thoughtful for the space of sixteen
+seconds. Then she cried; &#8220;Oh, I have
+an idea! Get somebody to whittle you a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span>
+couple of wooden dice; then paint them
+white and mark them with black sixes on
+each of the six sides of each die. You
+could call it &#8216;<i>a booby pair-o&#8217;-dice</i>&#8217; if you
+don&#8217;t object to puns!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What a good idea! It&#8217;s simply perfect!
+I wonder whom I could get to do
+it for me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, Dan could do it with his jackknife,
+just as well as not. If you&#8217;ll come
+to-morrow morning you shall have them.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Accordingly, the next morning, the
+young lady appeared, and was enchanted
+with her prize.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And how much will they be?&#8221; she
+asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I had thought of charging
+twenty-five cents for an idea, and the dice
+didn&#8217;t cost us anything and only took a
+few minutes to make.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Supposing we call it a dollar. Would
+that be fair?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t believe they are worth a
+dollar.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, they are; I should be ashamed
+to take them for less. What a splendid
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span>
+idea that was of yours, to put out that
+sign!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should think it was, if I could get
+any more customers like you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll send them to you,&mdash;never you
+fear!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Miss Beatrice Compton returned to her
+buckboard a captive to Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;She&#8217;s the sweetest thing,&#8221; she told her
+mother, who chanced to be her passenger
+on this occasion. &#8220;She&#8217;s got eyes and
+hair exactly of a colour, a sort of reddish
+brown, and her eyes twinkle at you in the
+dearest way, and she wears her hair in
+the quaintest pug, just in the right place
+on her head, sort of up in the air; and
+she&#8217;s a lady, too; anybody can see that.
+I wonder who &#8216;Dan&#8217; is; you don&#8217;t suppose
+she&#8217;s married, do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You can&#8217;t tell,&#8221; Mrs. Compton replied.
+&#8220;Persons in that walk of life marry
+very young.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Mamma, she isn&#8217;t a &#8216;person,&#8217; and
+she doesn&#8217;t belong to &#8216;that walk of life.&#8217;
+She&#8217;s a lady.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Miss Beatrice was as good as her word,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span>
+and three days had not passed when a
+horseman stopped before the little cottage,
+sprang from his horse, and looked
+about for a place to tie; there was no
+hitching-post near by. Polly was sitting
+in the porch making buttonholes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you were coming in here, you&#8217;d
+better lead him right up the walk,&#8221; she
+said, &#8220;and tie him to the porch-post.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a good idea!&#8221; the young man
+replied, promptly acting upon the advice.
+&#8220;You are Miss Polly Fitch, are you not?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I knew you the minute I saw you,
+because Miss Compton described you to
+me.&#8221; This was meant to be very flattering,
+but Polly, who seldom missed a point, was
+quite unconscious that one had been made.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you come for an idea?&#8221; she
+asked, quite innocently, and Mr. Reginald
+Axton, who was rather sensitive, wondered
+whether she &#8220;meant anything.&#8221;
+On second thoughts he concluded that
+she did not, and he began again:</p>
+<p>&#8220;I got that booby prize you made.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you?&#8221; cried Polly, with animation.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span>
+&#8220;Oh, I wonder whether you were
+the one&mdash;&#8221; she paused.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The one that what?&#8221; he asked hastily.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The one that thought there wasn&#8217;t
+anything in the game.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, yes, I was. And the others
+had all the luck, and so of course I got
+beaten.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course!&#8221; said Polly, with a twinkle
+of delight.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I see you&#8217;re on their side, but all the
+same I want you to help me to pay them
+back. You see I wanted to do something
+about it, and I thought of sending Miss
+Compton some flowers with a verse, and I
+thought perhaps you could do the verse.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Did you expect me to furnish the idea,
+too?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, of course! That&#8217;s why I came
+to you. I thought, if you were so awfully
+bright, perhaps you could make verses.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly looked thoughtful.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I should charge you quite a lot for it,&#8221;
+she said,&mdash;&#8220;much as a dollar perhaps;
+for you know writing verses is quite an
+accomplishment.&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll pay a dollar a line for it! I know
+a fellow that gets more than that from the
+magazines. And I&#8217;m sure that it will be
+good if you do it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My gracious! that&#8217;s great pay!&#8221; cried
+Polly, with sparkling eyes, ignoring the
+compliment, but enchanted to hear what
+a price verses brought. &#8220;I&#8217;ll send it to
+you by mail.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I guess I&#8217;ll look in every once in
+a while and see how you&#8217;re getting on!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Dear me!&#8221; said Polly, &#8220;you don&#8217;t
+expect me to spend a week over it, do
+you? That isn&#8217;t why you offered such
+high pay?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no; the quicker you got it done
+the more I should be willing to pay for
+it.&#8221; He paused a moment. &#8220;And, Miss
+Fitch,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;I don&#8217;t care if you
+make it a little,&mdash;well,&mdash;a little soft. She
+deserves it, she&#8217;s such a tease! Her
+name&#8217;s Beatrice,&#8221; he added. &#8220;We call
+her Trix, if that&#8217;ll help you any.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly understood Mr. Reginald perfectly,
+and she dismissed him with a twinkle
+which promised well. Then Polly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span>
+proceeded to cudgel her brain, while the
+needle went in and out, and a buttonhole
+formed itself in the firm, narrow line that
+makes of a buttonhole a work of art.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish I could rhyme words as well as
+I can stitches,&#8221; Polly thought to herself, as
+she held up a completed buttonhole, with
+the honest pride of a good workman.
+&#8220;Sixes,&mdash;Trixes! that heart were Trix&#8217;s!
+That ought to be made to go. A double
+rhyme, too! I don&#8217;t believe he expects a
+double rhyme.&#8221; And in and out and
+in and out her thoughts plied themselves
+round and about the two words, and her
+cheeks got quite hot with the pleasurable
+excitement of this new mental exercise.</p>
+<p>At last she tossed down her work, and,
+fetching a piece of brown wrapping-paper,
+proceeded, with many erasures and tinkerings,
+to inscribe upon it the following
+verse:</p>
+<table style='margin: auto' summary=''><tr><td>
+<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;'>
+Were hearts the dice and love the game,<br />
+<span style='margin-left: 1.5625em;'>Of no avail were double sixes;</span><br />
+On every heart is but one name,<br />
+<span style='margin-left: 1.5625em;'>We nought could throw but <i>double-Trixes!</i></span></p>
+</td></tr></table>
+<p>&#8220;Rather neat,&#8221; said Polly to herself,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span>
+&#8220;rather neat! Now if he were to send
+it with two bunches of roses of six each, I
+think it could not fail to make an impression.
+I should rather hate to pay
+another person to make love for me,
+though,&#8221; she went on, with a little toss
+of the head; and then she picked up her
+work and began again to &#8220;rhyme buttonholes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>When Dan came home to supper he
+had much to learn. He was lost in wonder
+over the rhyme which Polly repeated
+to him, but still more impressed by the
+four great silver dollars she had to show;
+for her impatient customer had already
+called for the verses.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Jiminy!&#8221; cried Dan; &#8220;that&#8217;s most a
+week&#8217;s earnings for some of us!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; Polly replied, demurely; &#8220;that&#8217;s
+what Mrs. O&#8217;Toole would have paid me
+for sixteen baby-dresses. Things even
+themselves out in the long run, don&#8217;t they,
+Dan?&#8221; As though Polly knew anything
+about the long run, by the way!</p>
+<p>Before Christmas Polly was driving a
+pretty trade, not only in ideas but in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span>
+sewing. She had in all ten dozen pocket
+handkerchiefs to mark for Christmas
+customers, besides towels and table-linen,
+sheets and pillow-cases. People had
+found her out, and she had to refuse more
+than one good order for lack of time.
+But needlework alone, quick as she was
+in doing it, would have given her but a
+meagre income, had she not been able to
+furnish &#8220;also ideas.&#8221;</p>
+<p>One lady, for instance, came to ask her
+for an &#8220;idea&#8221; for a Thanksgiving dinner,
+and Polly not only suggested the idea, but
+carried it out for her. She went about
+with a big basket to all the markets and
+collected perfect specimens of vegetables
+with which to make a centrepiece for the
+dinner table. The dinner was given in a
+house where the round dining table would
+seat twenty-four guests. In this ample
+centre she erected a pyramid of fruits of
+the earth. There were crimson beets,
+pale yellow squashes, scarlet tomatoes,
+and the long, thin fingers of the string-bean;
+potatoes furnished a comfortable
+brown, which, together with the soft
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span>
+bronze of the onion, harmonized discordant
+colours; and, crowning all, the silken tassel
+of the red-eared corn raised its graceful
+crest.</p>
+<p>The hostess was delighted with her
+table, and more delighted still with the
+pretty decorator. Polly&#8217;s fame flew from
+one to another throughout that kindly and
+prosperous community, and she found herself
+accumulating a goodly hoard. As
+Christmas drew near, many a perplexed
+shopper came to her for &#8220;ideas,&#8221; and all
+went away content. She had long since
+discovered that the Colorado shops were
+treasure-houses of pretty things. She
+never passed a jeweller&#8217;s window without
+taking note of his latest novelties; she
+kept an eye upon Mexican and Indian
+bazaars, and Chinese bric-&agrave;-brac collections;
+she made a study of Colorado gems,
+and knew where the prizes lay hidden;
+she ran through the books in the bookstores;
+she was alert for new inventions
+in harness decoration and bridle trimmings;
+she gave hints for fancy-work of
+divers kinds.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p>
+<p>Mercury, meanwhile, sped about the
+town, dispensing healing, as Polly often
+reminded him, and &#8220;getting more than I
+dispense, Polly,&#8221; he would declare in return.
+&#8220;I feel so well that everything is
+a regular lark!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And so Dan made a &#8220;lark&#8221; of his work,
+and trotted all day in his capacity of Mercury,
+little dreaming of the wealth that
+was accumulating for his use; while Polly
+went on with her hoarding, of which she
+made a great secret, and thought of a still
+better time coming.</p>
+<hr class='chapter' />
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span></div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>CHAPTER III</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1em;margin-bottom:30px;'>A MERRY CHRISTMAS</p>
+<p>Of all Polly&#8217;s new friends, not one took
+a warmer interest in the young
+idea-vendor than that first customer of
+hers, Miss Beatrice Compton. Miss Beatrice
+was a warm-hearted and enthusiastic
+girl, who never did anything by halves;
+and when she talked of Polly, of Polly&#8217;s
+skill and of Polly&#8217;s originality, when she
+extolled Polly&#8217;s eyes and Polly&#8217;s hair,
+Polly&#8217;s wit and Polly&#8217;s sweetness, few listeners
+remained quite unmoved and incurious.
+Among the many who were
+thus stirred to seek out this youthful paragon,
+was Miss Compton&#8217;s brother-in-law,
+Mr. Horace Clapp. Nor was an idle curiosity
+his only motive in taking the step.
+Beneath the pretext he found for paying
+the visit lurked a rather shamefaced
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span>
+purpose of doing this &#8220;plucky little
+genius&#8221; a good turn.</p>
+<p>It happened, therefore, one morning in
+December, that Polly came home from
+her marketing to find a stranger sitting
+in her porch. A dog-cart, driven by a
+groom in livery, was passing and repassing
+her door; and one look at the occupant
+of the porch sufficed to fix the connection
+between the two. He was a well-dressed
+man of thirty or more, who rose as she
+opened the gate and saluted her as if she
+had been a duchess.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Polly Fitch?&#8221; he inquired, as he
+stood before her, hat in hand.</p>
+<p>It was noticeable that no one ever
+omitted the &#8220;Polly&#8221; from the girl&#8217;s name.
+It seemed as much a part of her as the
+ruddy hair and the dimple in her chin.
+That dimple, by the way, should have
+been mentioned long ago; but that, in its
+turn, was so essential a feature, that one
+would as soon think it necessary to state
+that Polly&#8217;s nose had an upward tilt as
+that her chin had a dimple. Any one
+who had ever heard of Polly must know
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span>
+that her nose would tilt and her chin have
+a dimple.</p>
+<p>Polly had a large market-basket on her
+arm, and as she felt in her pocket for the
+key to the front door, her visitor took
+possession of the basket. She was a good
+deal impressed by the attention from so
+magnificent a personage, and one, moreover,
+of advanced years. She began to
+think that she must be mistaken about his
+being thirty; why, that was Cousin John&#8217;s
+age, and Cousin John was quite an oldish
+man. She motioned her visitor to enter,
+and it must be admitted that there was
+no oppressive reverence in her tone as
+she said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you would tell me <i>your</i> name, now
+we should be starting fair!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;My name is Horace Clapp. Did you
+ever hear of me?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, I don&#8217;t think so. Ought I to
+have?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, no, there&#8217;s no obligation in the
+matter. I only had an idea that I was a
+local celebrity, like you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Like me?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes! You&#8217;re a surprise to the town
+and so am I.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What have you done to surprise the
+town?&#8221; asked Polly, filled with curiosity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve only got rich very fast.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, so have I!&#8221; said Polly. &#8220;We
+<i>are</i> a good deal alike.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Really? Then you will be in an even
+better position to advise me than I thought
+for.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I <i>supposed</i> you had come for an idea,&#8221;
+said Polly, as naturally as if her wares had
+consisted in tape and buttons.</p>
+<p>Offering her visitor the only fairly comfortable
+chair in the room, she seated herself
+by the window, near which was one of
+the draped barrels with her work-basket
+on top.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You won&#8217;t mind my sewing, please,&#8221;
+she said, picking up a bit of embroidery;
+&#8220;I can think better that way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The new customer meanwhile was wondering
+whether Miss Polly would guess
+that he had come partly from curiosity,
+and partly with that other far more daring
+motive of finding a way to do her a service.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span>
+And yet, who could tell? Perhaps
+she <i>could</i> give him a hint; perhaps she
+<i>was</i> the youthful sibyl people seemed half
+inclined to believe her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Miss Polly,&#8221; he said, leaning forward
+in his chair, with his elbows on his knees,&mdash;&#8220;Miss
+Polly, I&#8217;ve got an awful lot of
+money, and I don&#8217;t know what to do with
+it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mere words had not often the power of
+staying Polly&#8217;s needle, but at this astounding
+declaration she actually let her work
+fall in her lap, and gazed with wide-eyed
+wonder at the speaker.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; he went on, &#8220;I really want to do
+some good with it, and I&#8217;ve tried in lots
+of ways and I&#8217;ve never hit it off. I
+should just like to tell you about some
+of the things I&#8217;ve made a fizzle of in the
+last year,&mdash;if it wouldn&#8217;t bore you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, it wouldn&#8217;t bore me; nothing
+ever does. Only,&mdash;I can&#8217;t understand it.
+Why, I think I could give away <i>a thousand
+dollars a year</i> just there at home, where
+we used to live, and every dollar of it
+would be well spent!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, Miss Polly,&#8221; he said very meekly,
+&#8220;but, you see, what I&#8217;ve got to consider
+is <i>two hundred thousand</i> dollars a year!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked positively ashamed of himself,
+and Polly did not wonder. She had
+given a little gasp at mention of the sum;
+then she shook her head with decision.
+Polly knew her limits.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I haven&#8217;t any ideas big enough for
+that&#8221; she said. &#8220;I should as soon think
+of advising the President of the United
+States!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, if you won&#8217;t advise me about
+mine, perhaps you will tell me what you
+are going to do with your own riches.
+You said you were getting rich, did you
+not? You know,&#8221; he added, &#8220;it isn&#8217;t
+necessary to make the map of a State as
+big as the State itself.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You have ideas, too,&#8221; Polly remarked
+appreciatively, resuming her embroidery.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But you have not told me how you
+are going to use your riches.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I&#8217;m going to use mine for education.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Going up to the college?&#8221; he asked.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no; there&#8217;d be no good in my
+knowing a lot. I&#8217;ve been nearly through
+the Fieldham High School already, and
+the little that I&#8217;ve learned doesn&#8217;t seem
+to stick very well. No, indeed! I&#8217;m
+going to&mdash;&#8221; she paused with a feeling of
+loyalty to Dan&mdash;&#8220;I&#8217;m only going to help
+on the general cause of education,&#8221; she
+finished demurely.</p>
+<p>As she made this sphinx-like remark,
+Mr. Horace Clapp wished she would relinquish
+the pursuit of wealth long enough
+to put her work down and let him see
+exactly what she meant.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think that is the best use to put
+money to,&#8221; he said gravely, &#8220;but I&#8217;m not
+in the way of knowing about people who
+need help. Couldn&#8217;t you tell me of somebody,
+some young man who wanted to go
+to college, or some girl who would like to
+go abroad? Of course, I could found a
+scholarship, or endow a &#8216;chair,&#8217; but one
+likes a bit of the personal element in one&#8217;s
+work.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly&#8217;s heart gave a thump. Here was
+a chance for Dan; a word from her was
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span>
+all that was needed to make his path an
+easy one. Had she a right to withhold
+that word,&mdash;to cramp and hinder him?
+She did not speak for a good many seconds;
+she simply plied her needle with
+more and more diligence, while her breath
+came fast and unevenly. Suddenly a furious
+blush went mounting up into her temples
+and spread itself down her neck. Her
+visitor thought he had never seen any one
+blush like that, and it somehow struck
+him that his little plan was swamped.
+Quite right he was, too. Polly blushed to
+think that she had thought of Dan in
+such a connection for a single instant.</p>
+<p>It was very unreasoning, this impulse
+of rebellious shame: are we not admonished
+to help one another? And what
+could the helpers do if all their benefactions
+were indignantly thrust back? Very
+unreasoning indeed, but natural!&mdash;natural
+as the colour of her hair and the quickness
+of her wit, natural as all the graces and
+virtues, all the misconceptions and foibles,
+that went to make up the personality of
+Polly Fitch,&mdash;of Polly Fitch, the daughter
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span>
+of Puritan ancestors; men and women
+who could starve, body and mind, but who
+never had learned to accept a charity.</p>
+<p>Before the flush had died away, Polly
+was quite herself again, and looked up so
+brightly and sweetly that Mr. Clapp took
+heart of hope.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You do know somebody like that;
+I&#8217;m sure you do!&#8221; he said insinuatingly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I?&#8221; said Polly. &#8220;I know hardly anybody.
+But I&#8217;m sure the president of the
+college could tell you of a dozen boys who
+would be grateful for help.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And so Mr. Horace Clapp&#8217;s little plan
+had come to nought, and he took his
+leave more than ever convinced that it is
+a very difficult thing to spend one&#8217;s money
+in a good cause. As he stood a moment,
+waiting for his dog-cart, a boy came down
+the street with a parcel under his arm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Say, Mister, do you know whether
+Daniel Fitch lives here?&#8221; he asked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Daniel Fitch?&#8221; thought Mr. Clapp, as
+the boy turned in at the gate. &#8220;Daniel
+Fitch? Where have I heard that name?
+Oh, yes, Beatrice said there was a brother;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span>
+runs errands for Jones, the druggist.
+Plucky children! It would be pleasant to
+give them a lift!&#8221;</p>
+<p>As for Polly, she had not a twinge of
+regret. In fact, she rather enjoyed dwelling
+upon the splendour of the opportunity
+she had thrust from her, the better to
+glory in her escape. And she looked forward
+with entire confidence to the time
+when she should test Dan&#8217;s feeling on the
+point.</p>
+<p>On Christmas Eve they hung up their
+stockings, fairly bulging with materialised
+jokes and ideas which the morning was to
+bring to light, and we may be sure that
+they did not wait for the lazy winter sun to
+put in an appearance before beginning
+their investigations. Amid shouts of merriment
+the revelations of a remarkably inventive
+Santa Claus were greeted, while
+Polly held her climbing excitement in
+check until the hour should be ripe for
+greater things. But when, at last, just as
+the sun was peeping in at the kitchen window,
+Dan&#8217;s ferret fingers penetrated the
+extreme toe of his sock, she grew so agitated
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span>
+that she quite forgot to make a certain
+witty observation she had been saving
+up for that particular moment. And so
+it came about that an unwonted silence
+reigned as the unsuspecting Dan drew
+forth a small flat parcel labelled: &#8220;A
+Merry Christmas from Polly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Within was their familiar bank-book,
+wrapped about with a less familiar sheet
+of note-paper bearing the following inscription:</p>
+<p>&#8220;An Idea! Namely, to wit: That
+Daniel Reddiman Fitch, Esq., lay aside
+his character of Mercury, and become a
+student at Colorado College!</p>
+<p>&#8220;P. S.&mdash;An examination of the within
+balance will assure the said Dan that there
+is nothing to prevent his thus delighting
+the heart of his faithful Polly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>A glance at the balance recorded, a reperusal
+of the &#8220;idea,&#8221; and the impressive
+silence was broken into a thousand fragments.</p>
+<p>&#8220;For you see, Dan,&#8221; Polly explained,
+when, at last, she had secured a hearing,
+&#8220;I shouldn&#8217;t know what in the world to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span>
+do with so much money,&mdash;some rich people
+don&#8217;t, they say,&mdash;and I&#8217;ve got plenty
+of ideas to last us for years to come.
+Then, just as they begin to give out,
+you&#8217;ll have got to be a mining engineer,
+with your pockets cram-full of money, and
+you&#8217;ll have to support me for the rest
+of my life. So I don&#8217;t see but that I&#8217;m
+getting the best of the bargain, after
+all!&#8221;</p>
+<p>It all seemed perfectly natural to Dan.
+This sister of his had always lent a hand
+when he needed it. Of course he would
+accept her help, and let the future, the
+glorious, inexhaustible future straighten
+out the account between them. He did
+not express himself even in his inmost
+thoughts in any such high-flown manner
+as this. He simply gave an Indian war-whoop,
+administered to Polly a portentous
+hug, and declared for the hundredth time,
+&#8220;Polly, you <i>beat the world!</i>&#8221;</p>
+<p>When everything was thus amicably
+settled and Dan had agreed to &#8220;give notice&#8221;
+in his capacity as Mercury, the following
+day, Polly said: &#8220;You won&#8217;t mind
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span>
+being poor, will you, Dan? You don&#8217;t
+wish we were rich, do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Rich? Why, we <i>are</i> rich!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Dan, if any one came along and
+offered you a lot of money, say a thousand
+dollars a year, you wouldn&#8217;t take it, would
+you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you mean a stranger, Polly, some
+one we hadn&#8217;t any claim on?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; but somebody who had such
+a lot he wouldn&#8217;t miss it. Would you
+take it, Dan? Say, would you take it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;What a goose you are, Polly! Of
+course I wouldn&#8217;t take it! I would rather
+go back to the Aug&aelig;ans for the rest of my
+life!&#8221;</p>
+<p>On the evening of that momentous
+Christmas Day, our two young people had
+out their Latin books and began industriously
+to polish up their somewhat rusty
+acquirements in that classic tongue. A
+year ago they might not have regarded
+this as precisely a holiday pastime, but
+their ideas had undergone a great change
+since then.</p>
+<p>They sat at the little centre-table, the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span>
+ruddy head and the black one close together
+in the lamp-light, reading their
+Cicero. A rap at the door seemed a rude
+interruption; yet so unusual was the excitement
+of an evening visitor that they
+could not be quite indifferent to the event,&mdash;the
+less so when the visitor proved
+to be Polly&#8217;s client of the cumbrous
+income.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good evening, Miss Polly,&#8221; he called,
+from the door, and Polly fancied that his
+voice had a particularly cheerful ring in it.
+As he spoke, he glanced at Dan, who had
+opened the door.</p>
+<p>&#8220;This is my brother, Dan. Won&#8217;t you
+come in, Mr. Clapp?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;With all the pleasure in the world, for
+I have come in the character of Santa
+Claus.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Have you indeed?&#8221; thought Polly to
+herself; &#8220;we&#8217;ll see about that!&#8221; Perhaps
+there was something in her manner
+that betrayed her thoughts, for her visitor
+said, with evident amusement:</p>
+<p>&#8220;You take alarm too easily, Miss Polly.
+I should as soon think of offering a gift in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span>
+my own name to,&mdash;to any other extremely
+rich young woman.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I was glad to hear that your brother&#8217;s
+name was Dan,&#8221; he continued with apparent
+irrelevance, as he took his seat. &#8220;And
+more delighted still when I found out
+his middle name. Didn&#8217;t it strike you,&#8221;
+he asked, turning abruptly to Dan, &#8220;that
+your employer, Mr. Jones, was developing
+rather a sudden interest in your
+antecedents?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; Polly thought, &#8220;he is pleased
+about something.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, yes,&#8221; Dan answered, with boyish
+bluntness. &#8220;But what do you know
+about it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Only that it was I that put Jones up
+to making his inquiries.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You?&#8221; Dan looked half inclined to
+resent the liberty. But Polly saw that
+there was something coming.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you mind telling us what it&#8217;s
+all about?&#8221; she asked. &#8220;You look as if
+you knew something nice.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do; it&#8217;s one of the nicest things I
+ever knew in my life. I didn&#8217;t tell you
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span>
+the other day, did I, that I had made
+most of my money in mines?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; said Polly, wondering why he
+should want to tell them how he made
+&#8220;his old money.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, that is the case; nearly all in
+one mine, too. It&#8217;s a great placer mine
+up north. I don&#8217;t suppose you know
+much about placer mines?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly, disclaiming such knowledge, tried
+to look politely interested, while Dan&#8217;s
+interest, fortunately for his manners, was
+very genuine. Was he not to be a mining
+engineer, and did he not want to learn
+all he could?</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well,&#8221; Mr. Clapp went on, &#8220;a placer
+mine is one where the gold lies embedded
+in the soil and has to be washed out, and if
+there doesn&#8217;t happen to be running water
+near by it costs an awful lot to bring it in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said the polite Polly, with a
+vision of a fire-brigade running about with
+buckets in their hands, as they used to do
+in Fieldham.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What they call hydraulic mining,&#8221;
+Dan put in.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, that&#8217;s it. Big ditches to be dug,
+and all that sort of thing. Well, this
+&#8216;Big Bonus Mine&#8217; was discovered twenty
+years ago. A company was started and
+the stock was put on the market at a
+dollar a share. The management made a
+mess of it, as a management usually does,
+and it fizzled out. It was believed that
+the thing was chock-full of gold, but they
+couldn&#8217;t get it out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly was beginning to be interested;
+she usually did find things interesting
+when she gave her mind to them.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, what did they do?&#8221; asked Dan.</p>
+<p>&#8220;They gave it up for a bad job, and
+tried to forget all the money they had
+put into it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then where did your money come
+from?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Out of the &#8216;Big Bonus Placer Gold
+Mine!&#8217; We scoop it right out to-day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish you&#8217;d go ahead!&#8221; said Dan,
+for the guest had paused, and was examining
+the <i>Cicero</i>.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, hydraulic mining improves, like
+every thing else, and three years ago a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span>
+new company was formed. Luckily the
+old company had not gone into debt;
+perhaps they could not borrow money on
+their elephant. However that may be,
+they agreed to put half their stock back
+into the treasury, and it was sold at fifty
+cents a share, which gave us money to
+work with.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And it was a howling success!&#8221; cried
+Dan. &#8220;I remember; I&#8217;ve heard all
+about it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, we&#8217;ve paid out two dollars a
+share in dividends in the last six months,
+and the stock is held at fifteen or sixteen
+dollars a share to-day. The beauty of it
+is,&#8221; Mr. Horace Clapp added, glancing
+quietly from Dan to Polly, &#8220;I am convinced
+that you are both stockholders.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We?&#8221; they cried in a breath.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes! For Jones tells me that your
+father was a doctor; that his name was
+Daniel Reddiman Fitch, and that he once
+lived in Bington, Ohio.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Polly; &#8220;that was when
+he was first married; before old Doctor
+Royce died, and left an opening in Fieldham,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span>
+so that Father came back home
+again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The name of such a stockholder
+stands on our books, but we haven&#8217;t
+heretofore been able to trace him.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s why old Jones pumped me
+so,&#8221; Dan remarked, giving his mind first
+to the more familiar aspects of the case.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What a pity he never knew!&#8221; said
+Polly, with glistening eyes. &#8220;He was
+always so poor.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Your father&#8217;s original holdings were
+five thousand shares, so that you are the
+possessors of twenty-five hundred shares.
+If you sell it pretty soon, as I think you
+may as well do, you will have something
+over forty thousand dollars to invest; for
+there is, in addition to the stock, five
+thousand dollars in back dividends due
+you.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dan and Polly looked at each other
+almost aghast; but that was only for a
+moment.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, Dan, you can have a saddle-horse
+of your own!&#8221; cried Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And so can you!&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And we can&mdash;O Mr. Clapp, how
+rude we are!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mr. Clapp looked as if it were a kind
+of rudeness that he was enjoying very
+much. As he rose to go, he said:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Don&#8217;t you think I&#8217;m a pretty good
+sort of a Santa Claus after all, Miss Polly?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Polly seized his outstretched hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I didn&#8217;t believe any one person could
+be so rich, and so good, too!&#8221; she declared.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And, O Dan!&#8221; cried Polly, the minute
+they were alone together, &#8220;let&#8217;s send a
+New-Year&#8217;s box home. There&#8217;ll be just
+time enough. We can get one of those
+great carriage rugs for Uncle Seth, and
+a China silk for Aunt Lucia.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And I&#8217;ll send Cousin John&#8217;s boys
+some Indian bows and arrows.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And Cousin Martha a dozen Chinese
+cups and saucers.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And the old Professor a meerschaum
+pipe.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And Miss Louisa Bailey, and dear
+Mrs. Dodge, and the Widow Criswell,&mdash;what
+<i>shall</i> we send the Widow Criswell,
+Dan?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Some black-bordered pocket-handkerchiefs!&#8221;
+cried the irreverent Dan.</p>
+<p>Before going to bed they stepped out
+on the porch to bid the Peak good-night.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Going to be a fine day to-morrow,
+Polly.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;All the days are fine in Colorado,&#8221; said
+Polly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You forget the blizzard last month.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, but it was <i>such a dear blizzard</i>
+not to do you any harm when it caught
+you out!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dan grew thoughtful.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you ever think, Polly, that we
+should never have come out here if it
+hadn&#8217;t been for you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You know it was &#8216;Pike&#8217;s Peak or
+bust!&#8217; with both of us, Dan.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dan looked critically from the great
+Peak, gleaming there in the starlight, to
+Polly&#8217;s uplifted face, and then, as they
+turned to go in, he exclaimed, for the
+hundred-and-first time:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Polly, <i>you beat the world!</i>&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='NANNIES_THEATRE_PARTY' id='NANNIES_THEATRE_PARTY'></a>
+<h2>Nannie&#8217;s Theatre Party</h2>
+</div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>CHAPTER I</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1em;margin-bottom:30px;'>NANNIE&#8217;S THEATRE PARTY</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, my dear, I went to the the<i>ett</i>er
+myself once when I was quite a
+girl, younger &#8217;n you be, I guess. &#8217;Twas
+Uncle &#8217;Bijah Lane that took me, &#8217;n&#8217; he was
+so upsot by their hevin&#8217; a fun&#8217;ral all acted
+out on the stage, that he come home and
+told Ma &#8217;twa&#8217;n&#8217;t no fit place for young
+girls to go to, &#8217;n&#8217; I ain&#8217;t never ben inside
+a the<i>ett</i>er sence. Doos seem good to see
+play-actin&#8217; agin after all these years, I declare
+it doos!&#8221;&mdash;and Miss Becky took up
+her sewing, which she had laid down in a
+moment of enthusiasm.</p>
+<p>&#8220;If you liked it half as well as I like
+to do it, Miss Becky, you&#8217;d like it even
+better than you do now,&#8221; replied Lady
+Macbeth, with a cheerful gusto, somewhat
+at odds with her tragic character.</p>
+<p>Nannie Ray, herself still very new to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span>
+the delights of theatre-going, had recently
+seen a great actress play Lady
+Macbeth, and, fired with the spirit of
+emulation, she had been enacting the
+sleep-walking scene for the benefit of her
+country neighbour. Miss Becky Crawlin
+lived only half a mile down the road from
+the old Ray homestead, where the family
+were in the habit of spending six months
+of the year. She and Nannie had always
+been great cronies, Miss Becky finding
+a perennial delight in &#8220;that child&#8217;s
+goin&#8217;s on.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The &#8220;child&#8221; meanwhile had come to
+be sixteen years old, but no one would
+have given her credit for such dignity who
+had seen the incongruous little figure
+perched upon the slippery haircloth sofa,
+twinkling with delight at Miss Becky&#8217;s
+encomiums. She wore a voluminous
+nightgown, from under the hem of which
+a pink gingham ruffle insisted upon poking
+itself out; her long black hair hung over
+her shoulders in sufficiently tragic strands;
+her cheeks, liberally powdered with flour,
+gleamed treacherously pink through a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span>
+chance break in their highly artificial pallor,
+while portentous brows of burnt cork
+did their best to make terrible a pair of
+very girlish and innocent eyes. A touch
+of realism which the original Lady Macbeth
+lacked was given by a streak of red
+crayon which lent a murderous significance
+to the small brown hand.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I declare!&#8221; her admiring auditor went
+on, stitching away to make up for lost
+time, &#8220;I can&#8217;t see but you do&#8217;s well&#8217;s
+the lady I saw&mdash;only she was dressed
+prettier, and went round with a wreath on
+her head. A wreath&#8217;s always so becomin&#8217;!
+We used to wear &#8217;em May Day, when I
+was a girl. They was made o&#8217; paper
+flowers, all colours, so&#8217;s you could suit
+your complexion, and when it didn&#8217;t rain
+I must say we looked reel nice. &#8217;Twas
+surprisin&#8217;, though, how quick a few drops
+o&#8217; rain would wilt one o&#8217; them paper
+wreaths right down so&#8217;s you could scurcely
+tell what &#8217;twas meant for.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Tell me some more about the girl
+with the wreath, Miss Becky,&#8221; said Lady
+Macbeth, longing to curl herself up in a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span>
+corner, but too mindful of her tragic dignity
+to unbend.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, she looked reel pretty, but she
+didn&#8217;t hev <i>sperit</i> enough to suit my idees.
+She was kind o&#8217; lackadaisical and namby-pamby,
+&#8217;n&#8217; when her young man sarsed her
+she didn&#8217;t seem to hev nothin&#8217; to say for
+herself. I must say &#8217;twas a heathenish
+kind of a play anyway, &#8217;n&#8217; I ain&#8217;t surprised
+that Uncle &#8217;Bijah got sot agin it.
+The language wa&#8217;n&#8217;t sech as I&#8217;d ben
+brought up to, either.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Lady Macbeth had leaned forward and
+was clasping her knees, thus unconsciously
+widening the expanse of pink
+gingham visible beneath the white robe.
+She was glad she had modified her Shakespeare
+to suit her listener, though &#8220;Out,
+<i>dreadful</i> spot!&#8221; was not nearly as bloodcurdling
+as the original.</p>
+<p>Miss Becky, meanwhile, had not paused
+in her narration.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There was a long-winded young man,&#8221;
+she was saying, &#8220;him that sarsed his girl,
+&#8217;n&#8217; he went slashin&#8217; round, killin&#8217; folks off
+in a kind of an aimless way, an&#8217;&#8211;&#8211;&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;It must have been <i>Hamlet</i> that you
+saw!&#8221; cried Nannie, much excited. &#8220;Oh,
+I do so want to see <i>Hamlet</i>!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, <i>Hamlet</i>; that was it. And then
+there was a ghost in it that sent the
+shivers down my back; &#8217;n&#8217; a king &#8217;n&#8217;
+queen; &#8217;n&#8217; the king looked for all the
+world like Deacon Ember, Jenny Lowe&#8217;s
+grandpa, that died before you was born;
+&#8217;n&#8217; I declare, I <i>did</i> enjoy it! &#8217;Twas jest
+like bein&#8217; alive in history times! Why, I
+ain&#8217;t had sech shivers down my spine&#8217;s
+the ghost give me, sence that day, till I
+seen you standin&#8217; there tryin&#8217; to wash your
+hands without any water, &#8217;n&#8217; your eyes
+rollin&#8217; fit to scare the cat!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Would you like to have me do it again
+for you, Miss Becky?&#8221; asked Nan, springing
+to her feet with renewed ardour. And
+straightway she stationed herself at the
+end of the little room and began propelling
+herself forward with occasional erratic
+halts.</p>
+<p>The September sunshine came slanting
+through the tiny panes of glass at the
+window, and touched with impartial grace
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span>
+the youthful figure of distracted mien, the
+worsted tidies on the haircloth sofa, and
+the neat alpaca occupant of the stuffed
+&#8220;rocker.&#8221; Again the sewing was forgotten,
+and Miss Becky&#8217;s glittering spectacles
+were fixed upon the tragic queen. As
+the queer little figure stalked solemnly
+down the room, eyes fixed in a glassy
+stare, hands wringing one another distressfully;
+as a moving wail rent the air,
+to the effect that &#8220;all the perfumes of
+Arabia will not sweeten this little hand,&#8221;
+a most agreeable succession of shivers
+made a highway of Miss Becky&#8217;s spine.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why don&#8217;t you ever go to the theatre
+now, Miss Becky?&#8221; Nannie asked, when,
+having laid aside her tragic toggery, she
+came in her own person to take her
+leave. &#8220;I should think you&#8217;d like to go
+again.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, I should be reel tickled to go
+again, but I ain&#8217;t got nobody to go with,
+and, well&mdash;there&#8217;s other reasons besides.&#8221;</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a>
+<img src='images/illus-202.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 369px; height: 569px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 369px;'>
+&#8220;All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.&#8221;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span></div>
+<p>Nannie blushed to think how inconsiderate
+she had been to force her old friend
+to allude, even indirectly, to her poverty,
+and she walked up the dusty road to her
+own gate, filled with compunction. Just
+outside the gate was a little wilderness of
+goldenrod and asters. She thought what
+a pity it was they should get so gray with
+dust. Poor things, they could not help
+it; they had to stay where chance had
+planted them unless somebody picked
+them and carried them away, and even then
+they left their roots behind them. Somehow
+they made her think of Miss Becky,
+living her little narrow, stationary life all
+alone in the old tumble-down farmhouse.
+And just at this point in her reflections
+a delightful scheme came into her head.</p>
+<p>Now, Nannie was the recipient of a
+slender monthly allowance intended for
+gloves and ruchings, postage stamps, and
+the like, and, having spent the last four
+months far from the allurements of city
+shops, she happened at this juncture to
+be in funds. Her stock of gloves, to be
+sure, was pretty well exhausted, and
+Christmas was only a few months away.
+But Miss Becky was nearer still, and
+Nannie had no hesitation between the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span>
+two claims. As a natural consequence it
+happened that, one pleasant day early in
+October, Miss Becky, in her best black
+bonnet, found herself steaming up to Boston,
+about to do Nannie &#8220;a real favour&#8221;
+by chaperoning her to the theatre. Miss
+Becky was so much impressed by the
+gravity of her responsibility that she
+hardly took in the fact that she was going
+to the theatre herself!</p>
+<p>They were to see <i>The Shaughraun</i>&mdash;a
+play which her best friend had assured
+Nannie was &#8220;just great&#8221;; and as the
+train rushed up to town the young hostess
+was at a loss to decide whether she was
+happier on her own account or on Miss
+Becky&#8217;s. To be sure, she was just a little
+disappointed about Miss Becky, who
+seemed curiously silent and stiff; and
+when they came out of the station and
+walked up the crowded city street, the old
+lady held her by the sleeve and looked
+bewildered and frightened.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How long is it since you&#8217;ve been in
+Boston?&#8221; Nannie asked, looking up into
+the anxious old face framed in the black
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span>
+silk bonnet which looked twice as old-fashioned
+as ever before.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not sence Sophia was married &#8217;n&#8217; we
+came up to select her weddin&#8217; gownd. I
+was quite a girl then, an&#8217; I guess I felt
+more at home in a crowd than I do now.
+We don&#8217;t often hev much of a crowd out
+our way.&#8221;</p>
+<p>They were among the first to take their
+seats at the theatre. Mr. Ray had got
+places for them only three rows back from
+the stage, and, once established there,
+Nannie felt that they were in a safe haven,
+where her guest could grow calm and
+responsive again.</p>
+<p>At first Miss Becky was almost too
+overawed to speak, but after a while she
+got the better of the situation and began
+telling Nannie all about Sophia and her
+&#8220;true-so,&#8221; and how they got lost on their
+way to the station and almost missed their
+train, which was the only train &#8220;out&#8221; in
+old times.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I do hope we sha&#8217;n&#8217;t miss our train
+to-night, my dear! It doos seem&#8217;s though
+we might &#8217;f they don&#8217;t begin pretty soon,&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span>
+and the old lady&mdash;for a very old lady she
+seemed to have become all of a sudden&mdash;fidgeted
+in her chair, and looked over her
+shoulder to see if the seats were not filling
+up.</p>
+<p>&#8220;We sha&#8217;n&#8217;t lose our train, Miss Becky,&#8221;
+Nannie assured her. &#8220;You know it doesn&#8217;t
+go until half-past five o&#8217;clock, and the
+play is always over before five. And even
+if we did miss it we could take the seven-fifteen.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, dear, no! I sh&#8217;d feel reel bad to
+miss the train. Why, it gits dark by six
+o&#8217;clock, &#8217;n&#8217; &#8217;twouldn&#8217;t be safe for us to
+be goin&#8217; round the city streets after dark.
+We might git garroted or, or&mdash;<i>spoken to!</i>
+Dear me! I <i>wish</i> they would begin!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;If it gets late, Miss Becky, we won&#8217;t
+wait for the end of the play,&#8221; said Nannie,
+while a very distinct pang seized her at
+thought of missing anything.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think that <i>would</i> be better!&#8221; Miss
+Becky cried, with evident relief. &#8220;Don&#8217;t
+you think it might be better to go out a
+little early, anyway? They&#8217;ll be such a
+crowd when everybody tries to go out to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span>
+once that we might git delayed. <i>My!</i>
+what a sight of people there is already!
+And up in the galleries, too! Ain&#8217;t you
+&#8217;most afeared to stay in sech a crowd?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, Miss Becky. It&#8217;s just like
+this always, and nothing ever happens.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Them galleries don&#8217;t look strong
+enough to hold many people. Why, Nannie,
+see! They ain&#8217;t any <i>pillows</i> under
+&#8217;em! What do you suppose keeps &#8217;em up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t know, I&#8217;m sure; but they&#8217;re
+safe enough.&#8221;</p>
+<p>At this point the orchestra struck up a
+popular tune and silence fell upon Miss
+Becky. She sat, stiff and severe, gazing
+straight before her, and when Nannie ventured
+to make a remark she received only
+a reproving look in reply.</p>
+<p>How strange it was, Nannie thought!
+She had meant to give Miss Becky such
+a treat, and here sat her guest, looking
+anxious and distressed&mdash;yes, more anxious
+and distressed than she looked a year ago
+when her cow died. But then the play
+had not begun yet, Nannie reflected,
+with a gleam of hope. When the play
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span>
+had once begun, Miss Becky would forget
+all her worries and be as &#8220;tickled&#8221; as she
+had counted on her being. And when
+once the curtain had gone up, Nannie at
+least had no more misgivings. Her fancy
+was instantly taken captive, first by the
+charming young officer and his pretty
+Irish sweetheart, then by the fine old
+priest, then by Con himself,&mdash;dear, droll,
+happy-go-lucky Con, with his picturesque
+foibles, his bubbling humour, and his phenomenal
+virtues. From the moment of
+his entry, with &#8220;Tatters&#8221; just not at his
+heels, Nannie was all smiles and tears.</p>
+<p>Miss Becky, meanwhile, sat erect as a
+ramrod, a look of perplexity screwing her
+wrinkles all out of shape. Her bonnet
+had got somewhat askew from her constant
+effort to keep an eye on those unsupported
+galleries, and there was a general
+air of discomfort about her, which was the
+first thing that struck Nannie when, as the
+curtain fell upon the first act, she turned
+to look at her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Aren&#8217;t you enjoying it, Miss Becky?&#8221;
+she asked, with quick anxiety.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes, I&#8217;m hevin&#8217; a reel pleasant
+time. &#8217;T ain&#8217;t through yet, is it?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, no; it&#8217;s only just begun.
+There&#8217;s lots more! May Colby says
+that Con gets them all out of all their
+troubles and almost gets killed himself!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I sh&#8217;d think &#8217;t would take a long time.
+Are you sure &#8217;t ain&#8217;t most five o&#8217;clock?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no; it&#8217;s only three. See! And
+my watch is fast, too. Wasn&#8217;t it funny
+about the letter?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, I didn&#8217;t quite understand about
+that. What made &#8217;em laugh so?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why, that was because he couldn&#8217;t
+read, and so he had to make it all up out
+of his head.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well!&#8221; declared Miss Becky, with
+strong disapproval, &#8220;I don&#8217;t think he&#8217;d
+ought to hev deceived his mother that
+way; do you?&#8221;</p>
+<p>This was a poser; but at that moment
+the orchestra came to the rescue with a
+new tune, and Nannie was spared the
+necessity of replying.</p>
+<p>After that the play became every moment
+more exciting and the central figure
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span>
+more entirely captivating, and even between
+the acts Nannie was preoccupied
+and unobservant. They had got to the
+prison scene, with all its ingenious intricacies
+of plot and stage machinery; Con
+had accomplished the rescue, and was
+scrambling over the rocks, when suddenly
+the sharp report of a rifle rang out, followed
+by another, and then another, in
+quick succession.</p>
+<p>Instantly Nannie felt her arm clutched,
+and she heard Miss Becky saying: &#8220;You
+must come right away, this very minute!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, please not, Miss Becky,&#8221; she implored.</p>
+<p>But there was a resolute gleam in Miss
+Becky&#8217;s eye.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Come right along, child,&#8221; she whispered,
+hoarsely, &#8220;come right along with
+me!&#8221;&mdash;and poor Nannie, to her consternation
+and chagrin, found herself absolutely
+obliged to follow.</p>
+<p>The whole row of people stood up to
+let them pass, and every kind of look&mdash;glances
+of amusement and curiosity, of
+annoyance and of sympathy&mdash;followed the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span>
+oddly assorted pair, as they made their
+way out of the slip and then up the aisle.</p>
+<p>Once outside the door, the tension of
+Miss Becky&#8217;s face relaxed, but she did not
+waver in her determination.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There, child!&#8221; she cried, as they
+walked down the slight incline of the long
+passageway to the street. &#8220;There! I
+am glad I had strength given me to do
+my duty by you!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Miss Becky, there wasn&#8217;t a bit
+of danger,&#8221; Nannie protested, bravely
+keeping the tears back in her cruel disappointment.
+&#8220;Really, there wasn&#8217;t.
+Won&#8217;t you <i>please</i> go back with me, and
+just stand inside the door and see the end
+of it? I&#8217;m sure they&#8217;d let us stand inside
+the door.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Nannie Ray,&#8221; Miss Becky replied,
+looking very fiercely at the girl&#8217;s flushed
+cheeks and imploring eyes, &#8220;if you knew
+as much about firearms as I do, you
+wouldn&#8217;t ask such a thing. But there!
+It&#8217;s jest because you&#8217;re young and inexperienced
+that your ma wanted me to
+come and look after you. I guess she&#8217;ll
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span>
+be thankful she was so foresighted when
+she hears of the danger you was in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>In her exultation and relief of mind,
+Miss Becky marched on, regardless of
+jostling crowds and thronging teams. Her
+whole attitude had changed. She was no
+longer the timid, shrinking old woman;
+she was the responsible guardian, aware
+of the importance of her charge, and nothing
+was ever to convince her that she
+had not as good as saved Nannie&#8217;s life on
+that occasion.</p>
+<p>Then Nannie, as became a hostess, accepted
+the situation with the best grace in
+the world.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I tell you what let&#8217;s do, Miss Becky,&#8221;
+she said. &#8220;Let&#8217;s go and get some ice-cream.
+That is, if you like it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The stern old face relaxed.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes; I like ice-cream, especially
+vanilla. But&mdash;do you think we&#8217;ve got
+time enough?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve got an hour and a quarter
+before the train goes. Let&#8217;s come in
+here and get it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>From the crowded street they passed
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span>
+in at the doorway and walked between
+marble counters to what seemed to Miss
+Becky a scene in fairyland. Ascending
+two or three broad steps, on each side of
+which an antlered stag kept guard, they
+stepped upon a great carpeted space,
+lighted from above,&mdash;a space in the middle
+of which was a fountain, springing
+high into the air, and splashing back into
+a round basin lined with shining shells and
+pebbles, over and among which goldfish
+swam and dove like animated jewels.
+Ferns and palms grew all about the basin,
+and in among the greenery was a little
+table where Nannie and her guest sat
+hidden safe away from the world.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, this doos beat all!&#8221; the old lady
+exclaimed, gazing at the fountain with an
+expression of rapt delight&mdash;just the expression
+that Nannie had counted upon
+seeing among the wrinkles.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Do you like it?&#8221; she asked, all her
+disappointment and chagrin forgotten.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Like it? Why, it&#8217;s the most tasty
+place I was ever in! It&#8217;s better than any
+play; it&#8217;s like bein&#8217; in a play yourself!
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span>
+Jest see them pillows supportin&#8217; that
+gallery! &#8217;N&#8217; them picters of tropical
+fruits! &#8217;N&#8217; this ice-cream! Why, it&#8217;s
+different from what we hev at the Sunday-school
+picnics! &#8217;Pears to me it&#8217;s
+more creamy!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Now, at last, Miss Becky had lost all
+thought of the passage of time. She took
+her ice-cream, just a little at a time, off
+the tip-end of her spoon, and with every
+mouthful the look of content grew deeper.
+One of the little cakes that were served
+with the ice-cream was a macaroon with a
+sugar swan upon it&mdash;&#8220;a reel little statoo
+of a swan,&#8221; Miss Becky called it. She
+could not be persuaded to eat it, but she
+studied it with such undisguised admiration
+that Nannie ventured to suggest that
+she take it home with her. Again Miss
+Becky was enchanted. She wrapped it
+in her pocket-handkerchief, and placed it
+carefully in her reticule, whence it was to
+emerge only to enter upon a long and
+admired career as a parlour ornament.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And now, Miss Becky,&#8221; Nannie queried,
+as they sat there embowered in palms
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span>
+and ferns, listening to the plash of the
+fountain, &#8220;didn&#8217;t you enjoy the play at
+all?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes,&#8221; said Miss Becky, &#8220;I had a
+very pleasant time before they got so
+reckless with their guns. But&mdash;I wonder
+whether they take sech pains with the the-etter&#8217;s
+they used to? Why, when I went
+with Uncle &#8217;Bijah Lane that time, they all
+wore the most beautiful clothes. Even the
+men was dressed out in velvets and satins,
+and they wa&#8217;n&#8217;t anybody on the stage that
+didn&#8217;t make a good appearance.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, you know, this was a different
+sort of play, Miss Becky. The folks
+in <i>The Shaughraun</i> weren&#8217;t kings and
+queens, but just every-day people.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, s&#8217;posin&#8217; they was! I don&#8217;t see
+no excuse for that man Con goin&#8217; round
+lookin&#8217; so slack. I sh&#8217;d think he might at
+least git a whole coat to wear when he
+&#8217;pears before the public!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid you&#8217;re sorry you came,&#8221;
+said Nannie, very meekly, feeling quite
+ashamed of her poor little party.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, no, I ain&#8217;t! Why, child, I&#8217;d hev
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span>
+come <i>barefoot</i> to see this place here, with
+the founting a-splashin&#8217; and the fishes a-gleamin&#8217;!
+<i>Barefoot</i>, I tell ye!&#8221;</p>
+<p>It was a forcible expression, yet Nannie
+was not quite reassured. She still demurred.</p>
+<p>&#8220;But the play was the principal thing,
+you know.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;The play? Well, I don&#8217;t know,&#8221; said
+Miss Becky, thoughtfully. &#8220;I don&#8217;t know&#8217;s
+I&#8217;m so terrible sot on the the<i>ett</i>er&#8217;s I
+thought for. I&#8217;d a good deal ruther hev
+you come over &#8217;n do that sleep-walkin&#8217;
+piece for me. I don&#8217;t want nothin&#8217; better&#8217;n
+that. &#8217;F I can see you act that once
+in a while, &#8217;n&#8217; hev this here Garding of
+Eden to think about,&mdash;a founting playin&#8217;
+right in the house, &#8217;n&#8217; all,&mdash;I ain&#8217;t likely to
+want for amusement.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The best bonnet was still very much
+askew, but the pleasant old face within,
+whose wrinkles had resumed their accustomed
+grooves, was irradiated with a look
+of unmistakable beatitude; and somehow
+it was borne in upon Nannie that her theatre
+party had been a success after all.</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='OLIVIAS_SUNDIAL' id='OLIVIAS_SUNDIAL'></a>
+<h2>Olivia&#8217;s Sun-Dial</h2>
+</div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>CHAPTER I</p>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1em;margin-bottom:30px;'>OLIVIA&#8217;S SUN-DIAL</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s all we need to make it the prettiest
+garden in Dunbridge.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Hm! And why must we have the
+prettiest garden in Dunbridge?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Why shouldn&#8217;t we?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Here was a deadlock&mdash;a thing quite
+shockingly out of place in a garden, and
+one&#8217;s own particular garden at that!</p>
+<p>Olivia Page could make almost anything
+grow, as she had abundantly proved,
+but even her garden-craft could hardly
+suffice for the setting of a sun-dial on a
+pedestal of snow-white marble over there
+where the four triangular rose-beds converged
+to a circle, and where the south
+sun would play on it all day long.</p>
+<p>For a year Olivia had dreamed of this,
+and, since she was not a churlishly reticent
+young person, it was not the first intimation
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span>
+her father had received of her desire.
+Not until to-day, however, had she asked
+outright for what she wanted.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish you would say something
+more,&#8221; she remarked, glancing sidewise at
+the professor&#8217;s deeply corrugated countenance,
+which, for all their intimacy, was
+sometimes difficult to decipher. She had
+heard of girls who could twist their
+parents round their fingers; she wondered
+how they did it.</p>
+<p>The two were sitting on the white half-circle
+of a bench that stood at the west
+boundary of the old tennis-court, just
+where one end of the net used to be
+staked up. Excepting for that break,
+three sides of the garden were fenced in
+by the high wire screen originally designed
+to keep the tennis balls within
+bounds, and now doing duty as a trellis
+over which a luxuriant woodbine clambered,
+waving its reddening tendrils in
+the light September breeze. Wide flowerbeds
+bordered the entire court, the central
+turf being broken only by the cluster
+of rose-beds at the further end. From the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span>
+white bench one looked across the grass
+to a broad flight of veranda steps, flanked
+on the right by a mass of white boltonia,
+while on the left a superb growth of
+New England asters reared their sturdy
+heads.</p>
+<p>The garden had been a great success
+this year, quite the admiration of the
+neighbourhood. Really, Papa must be
+proud of it, and it was all Olivia&#8217;s doing.
+Who would ever guess that it had had its
+modest beginnings in half a dozen tin
+cracker-boxes with holes bored in the bottoms,
+where, in March, two years ago,
+she had planted queer little brown seeds
+as hard as pebbles, which Nature had
+straightway taken in hand, softening and
+expanding them down there in the dark,
+till they came alive, and began feeling
+their way up to meet the sun. Ah, the
+bliss of seeing those first tiny shoots turn
+into stems and leaflets, ready to play their
+part in the great spring awakening!
+Would Olivia ever love any flowers quite
+as she had loved those first seedlings,
+especially a certain pentstemon, which
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span>
+blossomed &#8220;white with purple spots,&#8221; exactly
+as the seed-catalogue had promised?</p>
+<p>Yes, the garden was a great success,
+and just now it was at one of its prettiest
+moments, gay with autumn colours; the
+rudbeckia in its glory, and the great pink
+blossoms of the hibiscus spreading their
+skirts for all the world like ladies in an
+old-time minuet, while over yonder the
+soldier spikes of the flame-flower threatened
+to set the woodbine afire. Olivia
+loved the Latin names, but somehow
+&#8220;tritonia&#8221; did not seem to express those
+spikes of burning colour. And the roses!
+How lovely those late hybrids were!
+Why, the way that Margaret Dickson
+drooped her head above the pansies, still
+blooming freely at her feet, was enough
+to melt the heart of a Salem gibraltar!
+A pity that the professor&#8217;s attention
+seemed for the moment to be riveted
+upon the toe of his boot!</p>
+<p>&#8220;I wish you would say something
+more,&#8221; Olivia repeated.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Something different, you mean,&#8221; and
+Doctor Page smiled, benignly and stubbornly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;For instance, you might tell me why
+you are opposed to it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You wouldn&#8217;t understand.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I might; you said, only the other
+day, that I sometimes displayed almost
+human intelligence!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The professor liked to have his jokes
+remembered; but still he seemed inclined
+to temporise.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I might say that we couldn&#8217;t afford it.
+It is generally conceded that Alma Mater
+is not a munificent provider.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; and you might say that my great-grandfather
+was not an East India trader&mdash;only
+you don&#8217;t tell fibs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Or that a sun-dial is an anachronism.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You are too good a Latin scholar for
+that.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So a subterfuge won&#8217;t do? Very
+well; then you&#8217;ll have to put up with a
+psychological proposition.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How interesting!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The professor glanced at the expectant
+young face turned toward him, and he
+could not but admit that his estimate of
+its owner&#8217;s intelligence had been well
+within the truth.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;You think a sun-dial would make it
+the prettiest garden in Dunbridge?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m sure it would.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And that is what you are aiming at?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Now, I have noticed that when you
+have got what you are aiming at you lose
+interest in it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;O Papa!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;There was tennis,&#8221; he went on, marking
+off the list on a combative forefinger,
+&#8220;and cookery; there was the Polyglot
+Club, and the Sketching Club, and&#8211;&#8211;&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Papa! They were every one of
+them good things, and I got a lot out of
+them; truly, I did.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No doubt; but as soon as you could
+play tennis, or sketch a pine tree, or toss
+an omelette a little better than the other
+girls, you had squeezed your orange dry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;But, Papa! I&#8217;ve stuck to gardening
+for more than two years!&#8221; Olivia&#8217;s
+tone seemed to give those years the dignity
+of centuries.</p>
+<p>&#8220;True; but you haven&#8217;t got your sun-dial.
+You will consider that the finishing
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span>
+touch, and then before we know it
+you will be wanting to turn the whole
+thing into a sand-garden for the little
+micks at the Corners.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Not such a bad idea,&#8221; Olivia admitted
+unguardedly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There you are! The mere mention
+of a new scheme is enough to set you
+agog!&#8221;</p>
+<p>But this was not their first fencing
+match, and Olivia had learned to parry.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I thought you believed in people being
+open-minded,&#8221; she ventured demurely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And so I do; but not so open-minded
+that for every new idea that comes in an
+old one goes out.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, the sun-dial hasn&#8217;t got away yet,&#8221;
+she laughed, springing to her feet and
+going over to the court-end of the garden,
+where she placed herself in the exact centre
+of the converging rose-beds.</p>
+<p>&#8220;There!&#8221; she cried; &#8220;don&#8217;t you see
+how my white gown lights up the whole
+place? It&#8217;s just the high light that it
+needs.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And so it was: a fact of which no one
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span>
+was better aware than the professor. As
+he, too, rose and sauntered toward the
+house he could not deny that Olivia&#8217;s
+ideas were usually good. The only trouble
+was that she had too many of them;
+and here was the kernel of truth that
+gave substance to his whimsical argument.
+The beauty of the garden was not
+lost upon him, nor yet the skill and industry
+of the young gardener. But more
+important than either was the advantage
+to the girl&#8217;s health. Olivia was sound as
+a nut; of course she was! There could
+be no doubt of that. But&mdash;so had her
+mother seemed, until that fatal winter ten
+years ago. He did not fear for Olivia;
+why should he? Only&mdash;well, this out-of-door
+life was a capital thing for anybody.
+No, he could not have her tire of her
+garden.</p>
+<p>At the foot of the veranda steps Dr.
+Page paused and glanced again at his
+daughter. She had left the rose-beds and
+was already intent upon her work, pulling
+seeds from the hollyhocks over yonder.
+She made a pretty picture in her white
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span>
+gown, standing shoulder-high among the
+brown stalks, her slender fingers deftly
+gleaning from such as showed no rust.
+The child was really very persistent about
+her gardening; she had fairly earned an
+indulgence. Perhaps, after all, she might
+be trusted. He moved a few steps toward
+her.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Olivia,&#8221; he said,&mdash;and the first word
+betrayed his relenting,&mdash;&#8220;Olivia, your
+sun-dial scheme is not such a bad idea.
+I should rather like that white-petticoat
+effect myself. Supposing we say that if
+between now and next June you don&#8217;t
+think of anything you want more, we&#8217;ll
+have it.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, you bless&egrave;d angel! What could
+I want more?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Time will show,&#8221; the bless&egrave;d angel replied,
+retracing his steps toward the house&mdash;unaided
+by angelic wings!</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; Olivia called confidently. &#8220;It&#8217;s
+the sun-dial that time will show, and afterward&mdash;why,
+the sun-dial will show
+the time!&#8221;&mdash;and although he made no
+sign, she knew there were little puckers
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span>
+of amused approval about her father&#8217;s
+mouth.</p>
+<p>As if she could ever want anything
+more than a sun-dial! she thought, while
+she passed along the borders, harvesting
+her little crop. She had finished with the
+hollyhocks, and now she was bending over
+a bed of withered columbines. And there
+were the foxglove seeds still clinging.
+Really, it was almost impossible to keep
+up. How brilliant the salvia was to-day,
+and what a brave second blossoming that
+was of the delphinium, its knightly spurs,
+metallic blue, gleaming in the sun!</p>
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; she declared to herself, &#8220;there
+will never be anything so much worth
+while as the garden. Why, of course
+there won&#8217;t; because Nature is the best
+thing in the world&mdash;the very best.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Plase, ma&#8217;am, will ye gimme a
+bowkay?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Olivia turned, startled by a voice so near
+at hand, for she had heard no footfall on
+the thick turf. There, in the centre of
+the grass-grown space, stood two comical
+little midgets, their smutty yet cherubic
+faces blooming brightly above garments
+highly coloured and earthy, too, as the
+autumn garden-beds.</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<a name='linki_5' id='linki_5'></a>
+<img src='images/illus-228.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 381px; height: 537px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 381px;'>
+&#8220;Please ma&#8217;am, will ye gimme a bowkay?&#8221;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;Dear me!&#8221; Olivia laughed, &#8220;how
+things do sprout in a garden! Did you
+come right up out of the ground?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Plase, ma&#8217;am, a bowkay! Me mudder&#8217;s
+sick an&#8217; me fader&#8217;s goned away.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The speaker, a boy of five, stood holding
+by the hand something in the way of
+a sister, about two sizes smaller. At
+Olivia&#8217;s little joke, which they did not
+in the least understand, they had both
+grinned sympathetically, showing rows of
+diminutive teeth as white and even as
+snow-berries.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Bless your little hearts, of course you
+shall have a bouquet! Come and choose
+one,&#8221;&mdash;and taking a hand of each Olivia
+led them slowly along the brilliant borders.</p>
+<p>They were a bit shy at first, but they
+soon picked up their courage, and Patsy
+fell to accumulating a mass of incongruous
+blossoms whose colours fought each
+other tooth and nail. Little Biddy, more
+modest, as beseemed her inferior rank in
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span>
+the scale of being, fixed her heart upon a
+single flame-flower which absolutely refused
+to reconcile itself with the ingenuous
+pink of her calico frock.</p>
+<p>&#8220;How long has your mother been ill?&#8221;
+Olivia asked of the boy, who by this time
+was quite hidden behind a perfect forest
+of asters and larkspur and lobelia cardinalis.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Me mudder&#8217;s always sick. She
+coughs an&#8217; coughs, and den she lays
+on de bed long whiles.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And she likes flowers?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, ma&#8217;am; me an&#8217; Biddy picked a
+bowkay outen a ashba&#8217;l oncet, an&#8217; me mudder
+sticked it in a tumbler an&#8217; loved it.
+Come, Biddy, make de lady a bow!&#8221;
+Upon which the small Chesterfield stood
+off a few steps and gave an absurd little
+bob of a bow which Biddy gravely endeavoured
+to imitate.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I think I&#8217;ll go with you,&#8221; said Olivia,
+open-minded as ever to a new interest;
+and hand in hand and chattering amicably,
+the three moved across the turf and down
+the long gravel walk to the dusty street.
+Surprising how short the distance was between
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span>
+the sweet seclusion of the old tennis-court
+and the squalid quarter where these
+little human blossoms grew!</p>
+<p>Olivia was thinking of that as she stood
+on the veranda an hour later, looking
+down upon the flowery kingdom to which
+all her interest and ambition had been
+pledged. Yes, it was lovely, lovely in the
+long afternoon light, and it would have
+been lovelier still with the gleaming marble
+she had dreamed of. She really tried to
+keep her mind upon it, to forget the little
+drama over there in the stuffy tenement.
+But no; she was too good a gardener for
+that. Was not a whole family broken and
+wilting for lack of means to transplant it?</p>
+<p>The doctor had ordered Mrs. O&#8217;Trannon
+to Colorado, and Mike had dropped his
+work as &#8220;finisher&#8221;&mdash;whatever that might
+be&mdash;and had gone out to prepare the way
+for the others to follow. He had found
+no chance to work at his trade, but he
+had got a job on a ranch, where the pay
+was small, but the living good. A fine
+place it would be for the invalid and the
+children, when once he could get together
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span>
+the money to send for them. But meanwhile
+here they were, and the winter coming
+on.</p>
+<p>As Olivia stood looking down upon her
+beloved garden, she could not seem to
+see anything but brown stalks and dead
+blossoms. All that lavish colour looked
+fictitious and transitory; she had somehow
+lost faith in it.</p>
+<p>Mrs. O&#8217;Trannon had been pleased with
+the flowers; she had grown up on a farm,
+she said. Sure she never&#8217;d ha&#8217; got sick at
+all if she&#8217;d ha&#8217; stayed where she belonged.
+But then, where would Mike have been,
+and the babies? And where would Mike
+be, and the babies, Olivia thought with a
+pang,&mdash;where would they be if the mother
+wilted and died? She turned, suddenly,
+and passed in at the glass doors and on to
+her father&#8217;s study.</p>
+<p>At sight of the kind, quizzical face
+lifted at her entrance, Olivia winced a bit.
+About an hour and a half it must be, since
+he said it, and he had given her a year!
+As if that made any difference! she told
+herself, with a little defiant movement of
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span>
+the chin, as she crossed the room and
+seated herself at the opposite side of the
+big writing-table where she could face the
+music handsomely.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Olivia; changed your mind
+yet?&#8221; the professor inquired, struck, perhaps,
+by the resolution of her aspect.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she answered, in an impressive
+tone, &#8220;I&#8217;ve thought of something I should
+prefer to a sun-dial.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dr. Page took off his glasses and laid
+them upon his open book. He did not
+really imagine that she was serious&mdash;such
+a turn-about-face was too precipitate even
+for Olivia; but it pleased him to meet
+her on her own ground.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what is it this time? A sixty-inch
+telescope? Or a diamond tiara?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, no. Those are things I had
+not thought of&mdash;before! It&#8217;s a kind of
+gardening project&mdash;a little matter of transplanting.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Will it cost a hundred and fifty
+dollars?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;About that, I should think, to do it
+properly and comfortably. And&mdash;it can&#8217;t
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span>
+wait till June. It&#8217;s the kind of transplanting
+that has to be done in the autumn.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then, dropping the little fiction, and
+resting her chin upon her folded hands,
+the better to transfix her father&#8217;s mocking
+countenance,&mdash;&#8220;Papa,&#8221; she said, &#8220;there&#8217;s
+a poor family down at the Corners,&mdash;our
+neighbours, you know,&mdash;and the mother
+is dying for want of transplanting, just
+like the beautiful hydrangea&mdash;you remember?&mdash;that
+I didn&#8217;t understand about till it
+was too late. I never knew what too late
+meant, till I saw that splendid great bush
+lying stone-dead on the ground when we
+came home from the Adirondacks last
+year. A great healthy hydrangea dying
+just for lack of the right kind of soil!
+And now, here is this good human woman,
+that might live out her life and bring up
+her little family, and be happy and useful
+for years to come. Such a nice woman
+she must be to name her babies Patsy and
+Biddy, when she might have called them
+Algernon and Celestina, you know, and
+just spoiled it all!&mdash;and such a nice, kind
+husband to take care of her on a big ranch
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span>
+where there&#8217;s good air, and lots to eat, and
+plenty of work and not too much, and&mdash;why
+Papa! they might have a garden out
+there! who knows? What a thing that
+would be for the prairie! A real New
+England garden!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;With a sun-dial?&#8221; the professor interposed.</p>
+<p>For an instant Olivia&#8217;s face fell, but
+only for an instant.</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve been thinking,&#8221; she said, with a
+very convincing seriousness, &#8220;that perhaps
+a sun-dial is not so important, after
+all. At any rate it&#8217;s not so important as
+the mother of a family; now, is it, Papa?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That depends upon the point of
+view,&#8221; the professor opined. &#8220;As a high
+light among the rose-bushes I should
+be constrained to give my vote for the
+sun-dial.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Olivia sprang to her feet.</p>
+<p>&#8220;That means that you are coming
+straight over with me to see Mrs. O&#8217;Trannon,&#8221;
+she cried, &#8220;and that you are going
+to have the whole family packed off to
+Colorado quicker&#8217;n a wink! Come along,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span>
+please! There&#8217;s plenty of time before
+dinner!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s just another of Nature&#8217;s miracles!&#8221;
+Olivia observed, as she and her
+father stood one morning in late October
+watching the workmen pack the sods
+about the beautiful pedestal, now securely
+planted upon its base of cement and
+broken stone. &#8220;It always makes me
+think of the wonderful things that came
+up in those tin cracker-boxes you used to
+make such fun of. There really doesn&#8217;t
+seem to be any place too unlikely for
+Nature to set things going in.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The marble was but roughly hewn, in
+lines that held the suggestion of an hourglass.
+The top only was smoothly finished,
+while here and there on the curving
+sides the hint of a leaf, a blossom, a trailing
+vine, came and went with the point of
+view, like cloud-pictures or the pencillings
+of Jack Frost. It was as if a &#8217;prentice-hand
+had tried to express the soul of an artist,
+too self-distrustful to work more boldly.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Funny, how things come into your
+head,&#8221; Olivia went on. &#8220;Do you know,
+Papa, that day when I was helping Mrs.
+O&#8217;Trannon with her preposterous packing
+and suddenly came upon this miracle hidden
+away under an old bedquilt, the only
+thing I could think of was the way my
+first pentstemons came out, &#8216;white with
+purple spots,&#8217; exactly as I had chosen
+them by the seed-catalogue. And to
+think that she had bought it for a dollar
+of that poor stone-cutter&#8217;s widow that was
+moving out&mdash;bought it to make pastry on
+because the top was smooth and cold!
+And then had never had time to make but
+one pie in the three years! I wish you
+could have heard her tell about it. &#8216;Faith,
+it cost me a dollar, me one pie did, an&#8217;
+Mike says it&#8217;s lucky it was that I didn&#8217;t
+make a dozen whin they come so high!
+Silly b&#8217;y, that Mike!&#8217; O Papa, isn&#8217;t it
+heavenly that they&#8217;re together again?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you think there is nothing Nature
+can&#8217;t do?&#8221; Dr. Page mused, with apparent
+irrelevance. &#8220;How about the sun-dial
+itself?&#8221;
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Nature will attend to that, too.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;She will, will she? And in what particular
+tin cracker-box should you look for
+it to come up?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;It wouldn&#8217;t be polite to say,&#8221; Olivia
+declared, looking with unmistakable significance
+straight into her father&#8217;s face.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Saucebox!&#8221; he chuckled.</p>
+<p>And when, in early June, the brass disk
+of the sun-dial had begun its record of
+happy hours, and still Olivia toiled with
+unabated zeal at her garden, the rose of
+health blooming ever brighter in her face,
+a great sense of satisfaction and approval
+took possession of her father&#8217;s mind. But
+he only remarked, in a casual manner, as
+they sat together on the white bench one
+fragrant sunset hour:</p>
+<p>&#8220;After all, I&#8217;m not sure but Nature&#8217;s
+biggest miracle has been performed in the
+saucebox.&#8221;</p>
+<p>And Olivia, smiling softly, answered:
+&#8220;I told you, you know, that there isn&#8217;t
+any place too unlikely for Nature to set
+things going in!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='major' />
+<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'>
+<a name='BAGGING_A_GRANDFATHER' id='BAGGING_A_GRANDFATHER'></a>
+<h2>Bagging a Grandfather</h2>
+</div>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></div>
+<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:20px;'>BAGGING A GRANDFATHER</p>
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ll warrant that &#8217;he, she, or it&#8217; will
+come! Di usually bags her game!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The speaker, Mr. Thomas Crosby,
+must have had implicit faith in his
+daughter&#8217;s prowess to venture such a
+confident assertion as that, for he was
+quite in the dark as to who &#8220;he, she, or
+it&#8221; might be.</p>
+<p>It was a cozy November evening, when
+open fires and friendly drop-lights are in
+order, and the three grown-folks of the
+family were enjoying these luxuries. Mr.
+Crosby was supposed to be reading his
+paper, but he had a sociable way of letting
+fall an occasional item of interest, or of
+letting fall the paper itself, at the first
+hint of interest in the remarks of his wife
+and daughter.</p>
+<p>Only within a very short time had
+there been three grown-folks in the family,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span>
+unless, indeed, we count Rollo, the Gordon
+setter, who had attained his majority
+years ago. Di, who was but just turned
+sixteen, really did not like to remember
+how very recently she had been sent to
+bed at eight o&#8217;clock!</p>
+<p>Could Mr. Crosby have guessed the
+scheme which was occupying the active
+brain of the young person engaged in
+embroidering harmless bachelor&#8217;s buttons
+upon a linen centrepiece, he would have
+been very much astonished,&mdash;whether
+pleasurably or otherwise, events alone
+must show. And since events had been
+taken in hand by Di the revelation was
+not likely to be long delayed.</p>
+<p>The incident which had elicited her
+father&#8217;s declaration of confidence was a
+request on Di&#8217;s part to be allowed the
+privilege of inviting a guest of her own
+choosing to the Thanksgiving dinner.
+The family party was to be materially
+reduced this year, for Mrs. Crosby&#8217;s
+mother and sister, their only available
+relatives, were at that moment sojourning
+in Rome, where, if they were sufficiently
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span>
+mindful of current maxims to do as the
+Romans do, they were very unlikely to
+meet with any satisfactory combination of
+turkey and plum-pudding. It was with
+that fact in view, that Di felt a fair
+degree of assurance in preferring her
+request. They all liked each other, of
+course, better than they liked anybody
+else, but, really, one must do something a
+little out of the common on Thanksgiving
+day.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Certainly,&#8221; Di&#8217;s mother had agreed;
+&#8220;you shall invite any one you choose. I
+have been wishing we could think of some
+one to ask, but people all have their own
+family parties on Thanksgiving day. Is
+it to be one of your girl friends?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;That is my secret,&#8221; Di had replied,
+sedately; &#8220;but, whoever it is, he, she,
+or it is a very important personage, and
+will have to be treated with great consideration!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And how is that very <i>un</i>important
+personage, Di Crosby, going to get hold
+of so great a dignitary?&#8221; Mrs. Crosby
+had laughingly inquired. At which
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span>
+juncture Mr. Crosby had expressed his belief
+that Di would bag her game.</p>
+<p>That the prospective dinner should be
+incomplete was all the harder, considering
+the fact that the Crosbys were, by good
+rights, the possessors of that most desired
+ornament of such an occasion,&mdash;a <i>bona
+fide</i> grandfather. Not only was old Mr.
+Crosby living, and in excellent health,
+but his residence was not above a dozen
+blocks removed from his son&#8217;s house.
+And yet no grandfather had ever graced
+their Thanksgiving feast.</p>
+<p>Family quarrels are an unpleasant subject
+at the best, and since Di herself had
+never learned the precise cause of the
+long estrangement between father and
+son, in which the old gentleman had
+decreed that his son&#8217;s wife and children
+should share, it is hardly worth while to
+recount it here. Suffice it to say, that it
+was a very old quarrel indeed, older than
+Di herself, and one to which Mr. and
+Mrs. Crosby never alluded.</p>
+<p>It was six years ago, when Di, the eldest
+of the children, was ten years of age, that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span>
+she had come home from school one day,
+breathless with excitement.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Mamma!&#8221; she cried, bursting into the
+room where her mother was changing the
+baby&#8217;s frock: &#8220;Mamma! Have I got a
+grandfather?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Mrs. Crosby glanced furtively at the
+round eyes of the baby, and took the precaution
+of smothering him in billows of
+white lawn before replying, rather softly:
+&#8220;Yes, dear; Papa&#8217;s father is living. Why
+do you ask?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I saw him to-day.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You saw him? Where?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;On the street.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;How did you know it was he?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Sallie Watson asked me why I didn&#8217;t
+bow to my grandfather.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what did you say?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I said: &#8216;Never you mind!&#8217; And then
+I ran home all the way, as tight as ever I
+could run! Mamma, why don&#8217;t we ever
+see him?&#8221;</p>
+<p>The baby&#8217;s head was just emerging from
+temporary eclipse, and Mrs. Crosby&#8217;s
+voice dropped still lower, as she answered:
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;Because, dear, <i>he doesn&#8217;t wish it</i>.&#8221;</p>
+<p>There was something so gently conclusive
+in this answer that little Di was
+silenced. Yet the look in her mother&#8217;s
+face had not escaped her; a wistful, hurt
+look, such as the child had never seen
+there before. And in her own mind Di
+asked many questions.</p>
+<p>What did it all mean? How did it
+happen that her grandfather did not wish
+it? Why was he so different from other
+girls&#8217; grandfathers? There must be something
+very wrong somewhere, but where
+was it? Since it could not possibly be
+with her father or mother, it must
+be that her grandfather was himself at
+fault.</p>
+<p>The object of Di&#8217;s perplexities, Mr.
+Horatio Crosby, lived all alone in a very
+good house, and was in the habit of driving
+about in a very pretty victoria; people
+bowed to him, people who were friends of
+Di&#8217;s father and mother, and must therefore
+be creditable acquaintances. All this
+she soon discovered, for, having once
+come to know her grandfather by sight,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span>
+she seemed to be constantly crossing his
+path.</p>
+<p>Little by little, as she grew older, Di
+picked up certain stray bits of information,
+but she never tried to piece them together.
+She felt that she would a little rather
+not know any more. A quarrel there had
+certainly been, some time in the dark
+ages before she was born, and the old
+man had proved himself obstinate and
+implacable. Friendly overtures had been
+made from time to time, but he had set his
+face against all such advances, and now, for
+many, many years,&mdash;as many as three or
+four, little Di had gathered,&mdash;the friendly
+overtures had ceased.</p>
+<p>One gets used to things, and Di got
+used to having a grandfather who did not
+know her by sight. She was sure he did
+not know her, because once, when she was
+twelve years old, he had stopped her on
+the street to tell her that she had dropped
+her pocket-handkerchief. It had been
+very polite of the old gentleman, and she
+had been glad not to lose her handkerchief.
+Yet, as she thanked him, she gave
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span>
+him one searching look, and she told herself
+that he had a very cross expression,
+as well as a very harsh voice.</p>
+<p>This uncomplimentary verdict was
+largely due to the fact that, at this period,
+Di had quite made up her mind that her
+grandfather was a hateful, unreasonable
+old despot, and that it served him right
+never to come to the family parties, nor to
+have any Christmas presents, nor to have
+seen the baby, which Mamma said was the
+prettiest of all her babies, and which Di
+considered the most enchanting object on
+the face of the earth.</p>
+<p>But again many years had passed,&mdash;four,
+in this instance,&mdash;and there came a
+time, only a few weeks previous to the
+opening of our story, when Di found herself
+constrained to modify her view of her
+grandfather.</p>
+<p>It happened that she had gone with her
+drawing teacher, Miss Downs, to an exhibition
+of paintings. Among the pictures
+was a very striking one entitled <i>Le
+Grandp&egrave;re</i>. It represented an old French
+peasant, just stopping off work for the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span>
+day, with a flock of grandchildren clinging
+about his knees. Miss Downs called
+Di&#8217;s attention to the wonderful reach of
+upland meadow, and the exquisite effect
+of the sunset light on the face of the old
+man; but, to Di, the meadow and the sunset
+light were unimportant accessories to the
+central idea. It was the grandfather himself
+that commanded all her attention,&mdash;the
+look of blissful indulgence on the old
+man&#8217;s face; his attitude of protecting affection
+towards one young girl in particular,
+on whose head the toil-stained hand
+rested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; she said, after several minutes
+of rapt contemplation: &#8220;Yes; the sunset
+is very nice, and the fields; but, oh,
+the old man is such a darling!&#8221;</p>
+<p>As she spoke she turned to see how her
+teacher took her remark, and found herself
+face to face, not with Miss Downs, but
+with her own grandfather! She gave a
+little gasp of surprise, which he appeared
+not to notice.</p>
+<p>&#8220;So you think him a darling, do you?&#8221;
+he asked, and somehow his voice did not
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span>
+sound quite as harsh as it had done four
+years ago.</p>
+<p>Miss Downs had passed on, and there
+was no one standing near them, no one
+at all in the gallery who shared Di&#8217;s
+knowledge of the strange situation. She
+felt sure that the old man had no suspicion
+of her identity.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I do,&#8221; she answered boldly.</p>
+<p>&#8220;What makes a darling of him?&#8221; the
+old gentleman inquired.</p>
+<p>Di felt that this was her opportunity,
+and that she was letting it slip. But she
+could not help herself, and she only answered
+rather lamely:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, nothing, except that he is <i>such
+a good grandfather!</i>&#8221; Upon which she
+beat a hasty retreat, and fled to the protection
+of Miss Downs, whom she found
+in an adjoining room.</p>
+<p>It was perhaps twenty minutes later
+that Di and her teacher passed the picture
+again, and, behold, there was the old
+gentleman standing, lost in thought, exactly
+on the spot where she had left him.
+He did not seem to be looking at the
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span>
+picture, but Di felt certain that he was
+thinking of it. And, suddenly, it passed
+through her mind like a flash that he was
+sorry.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; he&#8217;s sorry,&#8221; she said to herself.
+&#8220;He&#8217;s sorry, and he doesn&#8217;t know how to
+say so!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The more she thought of it in the days
+that followed,&mdash;and she seemed to be
+thinking pretty much all the time of the
+old man and the look on his face as he
+stood before the picture,&mdash;the more convinced
+she became that he was sorry and
+did not know how to say so.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And he ought not to have to say so,&#8221;
+she told herself. &#8220;He&#8217;s an old, old man,
+and he ought not to have to say that he is
+sorry.&#8221;</p>
+<p>The old, old man&mdash;aged sixty-five&mdash;might
+have taken exception to that part of
+her proposition touching his extreme antiquity,
+but we may be pretty sure that he
+would have cordially endorsed her opinion
+that the dignity of his years forbade his
+saying that he was sorry.</p>
+<p>In those days Di used to walk often
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span>
+past her grandfather&#8217;s house. It was a
+very big house for a single occupant.
+Even the stout footman, whom she had
+once seen at the door, did not seem stout
+enough, nor numerous enough to relieve
+the big house of its vacancy. There were
+heavy woollen draperies in the parlor windows,
+but not a hint of the pretty white
+muslin which a woman would have had up
+in no time. Once she passed the house just
+at dusk, after the lights were lighted.
+Through the long windows she looked
+into the empty room. Not so much as a
+cat or a dog was awaiting the master. In
+the swift glance with which she swept the
+interior she noted that the fireplace was
+boarded in. That seemed to Di indescribably
+dreary. Perhaps her grandfather
+did not sit here; perhaps he had a
+library somewhere, like their own. But,
+no; there was the portly footman entering
+with the evening paper, which he laid
+upon the table before coming to close the
+shutters.</p>
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s too old to say he is sorry,&#8221; Di
+said to herself, as she turned dejectedly
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span>
+away; &#8220;a great deal too old&mdash;and lonely&mdash;and
+dreary!&#8221;</p>
+<p>And it was on that very evening that
+she made her little petition to her mother,
+and that her father declared that Di was
+sure to bag her game.</p>
+<p>Old Mr. Crosby, meanwhile, was too
+well-used to his empty house and to his
+boarded-in fireplace to mind them very
+much, too unaccustomed to muslin curtains
+to miss them. Yet he had not been
+on very good terms with himself for the
+past few weeks, and that was something
+which he did mind particularly.</p>
+<p>The result of his long cogitation in
+front of the grandfather picture had been
+highly uncomplimentary to the artist. He
+pronounced the homespun subject unworthy
+of artistic treatment, and he told
+himself that it merited just that order of
+criticism which it had received at the
+hands of the young person with the rather
+pretty turn of countenance, who had regarded
+it with such enthusiasm. Nevertheless,
+he did not forget the picture,&mdash;nor
+yet the young person!
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></p>
+<p>It was the afternoon of Thanksgiving
+day, and there was a light fall of snow
+outside. He remembered that in old times
+there used always to be a lot of snow on
+Thanksgiving day. Things were very
+different in old times. He wondered
+what would have been thought of a man
+fifty years ago,&mdash;or seventeen years ago,
+for the matter of that,&mdash;who was giving
+his servants a holiday and dining at the
+club. As if those foreign servants had
+any concern in the Yankee festival! But
+then, what concern had he, Horatio
+Crosby, in it nowadays? What had he
+to be thankful for? Whom had he to be
+thankful with? He was very lucky to
+have a club to go to! He might as well
+go now, though it was still two or three
+hours to dinner time. He would ring for
+his overcoat and snow-shoes.</p>
+<p>His hand was on the bell-rope&mdash;for Mr.
+Horatio Crosby was old-fashioned, and
+had never yet admitted an electric button
+to his domain.</p>
+<p>At that moment the door opened softly&mdash;what
+was Burns thinking of, not to
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span>
+knock?&mdash;and there stood, not Burns, not
+Nora, but a slender apparition in petticoats,
+with a dash of snow on hat and
+jacket, and a dash of daring in a pair of
+very bright eyes.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Good afternoon, Grandfather,&#8221; was the
+apparition&#8217;s cheerful greeting, and involuntarily
+the old gentleman found himself
+replying with a &#8220;Good afternoon&#8221; of his
+own.</p>
+<p>The apparition moved swiftly forward,
+and, before he knew what he was about,
+an unmistakable kiss had got itself applied
+to his countenance and&mdash;more amazing
+still&mdash;he was strongly of the impression
+that there had been&mdash;no robbery!</p>
+<p>Greatly agitated by so unusual an experience,
+he only managed to say: &#8220;So you
+are&#8211;&#8211;?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; I am Di Crosby,&mdash;your granddaughter,
+you know, and&mdash;this is Thanksgiving
+day!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You don&#8217;t say so!&#8221; and the old man
+gazed down at her in growing trepidation.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Let&#8217;s sit down,&#8221; Di suggested, feeling
+that she gained every point that
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span>
+her adversary lost. &#8220;This must be your
+chair. And I&#8217;ll sit here. There! Isn&#8217;t
+this cozy?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, very!&#8221;</p>
+<p>The master of the house had sufficiently
+recovered himself to put on his spectacles,
+the use of which was affording him much
+satisfaction. He really did not know that
+the young girl of the day was so pretty!</p>
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t suppose you smoke a pipe,&#8221;
+Di remarked, in a strictly conversational
+tone.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, no; I can&#8217;t say I do. Why?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;I only thought I should like to light
+one for you. You know,&#8221; she added, confidentially,
+&#8220;girls always light their grandfathers&#8217;
+pipes in books. And I&#8217;ve had so
+little practice in that sort of thing!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;In pipes?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No&mdash;in grandfathers!&#8221;</p>
+<p>There came a pause, occupied, on Di&#8217;s
+part, by a swift, not altogether approving
+survey of the stiff, high-studded room.
+This time it was the old gentleman who
+broke the silence.</p>
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<a name='linki_6' id='linki_6'></a>
+<img src='images/illus-256.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 365px; height: 564px;' /><br />
+<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 365px;'>
+&#8220;&#8216;Good afternoon, Grandfather,&#8217; was the apparition&#8217;s cheerful greeting.&#8221;<br />
+</p>
+</div>
+<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></div>
+<p>&#8220;I believe you are the young lady who
+admired that old clodhopper in the picture,&#8221;
+he remarked.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, yes; he was a great darling!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;He wasn&#8217;t very handsome.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;No, but&mdash;there is always something
+so dear about a grandfather!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Always?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes; always!&#8221; and suddenly Di left
+her seat, and, taking a few steps forward,
+she dropped on her knees before him.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Grandfather,&#8221; she said, clasping her
+small gloved hands on his knee, &#8220;Grandfather!&#8221;</p>
+<p>She was meaning to be very eloquent
+indeed,&mdash;that is, if it were to become
+necessary. She did not dream that that
+one word, so persuasively spoken, was
+more eloquent than a whole oration.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Well, Miss Di?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Grandfather, I&#8217;ve a great favour to ask
+of you, and I should like to have you say
+&#8216;yes&#8217; beforehand!&#8221;</p>
+<p>He looked down upon her with a heart
+rendered surprisingly soft by that first
+word,&mdash;and a mind much tickled by the
+audacity of the rest of it.
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></p>
+<p>&#8220;And are you in the habit of getting
+favours granted in the dark?&#8221; he inquired.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Papa says I usually bag my game!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Now old Mr. Crosby had been a sportsman
+in his day, and he was mightily pleased
+with the little jest. But he only asked:</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what&#8217;s your game in this instance,
+if you please?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;You!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, I! And you want to bag me?
+Bag me for what?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;For dinner!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, for dinner!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes! We are all by ourselves to-day,
+and you&#8217;ll just make the table even.
+There&#8217;s only Papa and Mamma, and
+Louise, and Beth, and Alice, and the
+baby.&#8221; Somehow the succession of sweet,
+soft names sounded very attractive to the
+crabbed old man.</p>
+<p>&#8220;The baby is six years old,&#8221; Di continued,
+unconsciously adding another
+touch to the attractiveness of the picture.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what is her name?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;<i>His</i> name is Horatio. I never liked
+it very well; it seemed too long for a
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span>
+baby. But, do you know?&mdash;I think I shall
+like it better now.&#8221;</p>
+<p>She was still kneeling before him, with
+her small gloved hands clasped on his
+knee. It was clear that she had not the
+faintest idea of being refused. Yet even
+had she been somewhat less confident, she
+might well have taken heart of hope, for,
+at this point, he gently laid his wrinkled
+hand upon hers.</p>
+<p>&#8220;You <i>will</i> come to dinner?&#8221; she begged,
+apparently quite unconscious of the little
+caress. &#8220;We dine at five on Thanksgiving
+day, and you and I can walk over
+together. They will all be so surprised,&mdash;and
+so happy!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Then they are not expecting me?&#8221;
+and the old man gave her a very piercing
+look, which did not seem to pierce at all.</p>
+<p>&#8220;No; they didn&#8217;t know who it was to
+be. I only said it was a very important
+personage.&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Coming in a bag!&#8221; he suggested.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, that&#8217;s only a sportsman&#8217;s expression!&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Indeed! And is it customary nowadays
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span>
+to go a-hunting for your Thanksgiving
+dinner?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Di&#8217;s eyes danced. This was indeed a
+grandfather worth waiting for! But she
+only answered demurely:</p>
+<p>&#8220;That depends upon your quarry!&#8221;</p>
+<p>Lucky Di, to have hit upon that pretty,
+old-fashioned word! She had, indeed, read
+her Sir Walter to good purpose.</p>
+<p>Now, Mr. Horatio Crosby had held out
+stoutly against every appeal of natural
+affection, of reason, of conscience. He
+was not a quick-tempered man like his
+son; he was not, like his daughter-in-law,
+easily rebuffed; but there was about him
+a toughness of fibre which yielded neither
+to blows nor to pressure, and which, for
+many years, neither friend nor foe had
+penetrated. And here was this young
+thing simply ignoring the hitherto impenetrable
+barrier! The clear young eyes
+looked straight through it, the fresh young
+voice made nothing of it, the playful
+fancies overleapt it. A quarry, indeed!
+Where had the child got hold of the
+word?
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span></p>
+<p>Of a sudden the old man bent forward
+and lightly touched the laughing face in
+token of surrender.</p>
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s an old bird you&#8217;ve winged, little
+girl,&#8221; he said, as he rose to his feet
+and stepped once more to the bell-rope;
+and this time he really rang for his coat and
+overshoes.</p>
+<hr class='tb' />
+<p>&#8220;And so you&#8217;ve named this little chap
+Horatio?&#8221;</p>
+<p>Dinner was over,&mdash;a very pleasant,
+natural kind of dinner, too, in spite of the
+difficulty some of the family had found
+in eating it,&mdash;and they were all gathered
+about a roaring woodfire, fortifying themselves,
+with the aid of coffee, cigars, and
+chocolate-drops,&mdash;each according to his
+kind,&mdash;for a game of blind-man&#8217;s-buff.
+The small scion of the house was seated
+on his grandfather&#8217;s knee, playing with
+his grandfather&#8217;s fob, after the immemorial
+habit of small scions.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Of course we named him Horatio!&#8221;
+It was Mrs. Crosby who answered, and,
+<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span>
+as her father-in-law looked across at her
+face with the firelight playing upon it, he
+seemed to remember that he had always
+wished for a daughter.</p>
+<p>&#8220;And what do you call him for short?&#8221;</p>
+<p>&#8220;Just Horatio!&#8221; piped up little Alice,
+who was sitting on the rug at the old
+gentleman&#8217;s feet, gently pulling Rollo&#8217;s
+long-suffering ears.</p>
+<p>&#8220;Yes,&#8221; said Mr. Thomas Crosby; &#8220;we
+have always been proud of the name.&#8221;</p>
+<p>Then Di, perceiving a slight unsteadiness
+in the voice in which this was said,
+stepped behind her grandfather&#8217;s chair,
+and, dropping a small kiss on the top of
+his head, looked across at her father, and
+exclaimed:</p>
+<p>&#8220;Oh, Papa! To think of our having
+bagged a grandfather!&#8221;</p>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-ad1.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 350px; height: 590px;' /><br />
+</div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-ad2.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 384px; height: 660px;' /><br />
+</div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-ad3.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 391px; height: 635px;' /><br />
+</div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-ad4.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 401px; height: 652px;' /><br />
+</div>
+<hr class='pb' />
+<div class='figcenter'>
+<img src='images/illus-ad5.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 383px; height: 640px;' /><br />
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Bookful of Girls, by Anna Fuller
+
+
+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: A Bookful of Girls
+
+
+Author: Anna Fuller
+
+
+
+Release Date: April 8, 2009  [eBook #28538]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOKFUL OF GIRLS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 28538-h.htm or 28538-h.zip:
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/3/28538/28538-h/28538-h.htm)
+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/3/28538/28538-h.zip)
+
+
+
+
+
+A BOOKFUL OF GIRLS
+
+by
+
+ANNA FULLER
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+ By Anna Fuller
+
+ A Literary Courtship
+ A Venetian June
+ Peak and Prairie
+ Pratt Portraits
+ Later Pratt Portraits
+ One of the Pilgrims
+ Katherine Day
+ A Bookful of Girls
+
+ The Thunderhead Lady
+ By Anna Fuller and Brian Read
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: "Suddenly a new sound reached her ear."]
+
+A BOOKFUL OF GIRLS
+
+by
+
+ANNA FULLER
+
+Author of "Pratt Portraits," "Katherine Day," etc.
+
+Illustrated
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+G. P. Putnam's Sons
+New York and London
+
+The Knickerbocker Press
+
+Copyright, 1905
+by
+Anna Fuller
+
+The Knickerbocker Press, New York
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+S. E. R.
+
+THE YOUNGEST OF ALL MY FRIENDS
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                                  PAGE
+
+ Blythe Halliday's Voyage                                            1
+
+ Artful Madge                                                       63
+
+ The Ideas of Polly                                                130
+
+ Nannie's Theatre Party                                            196
+
+ Olivia's Sun-Dial                                                 219
+
+ Bagging a Grandfather                                             242
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+                                                                  PAGE
+
+ "Suddenly a new sound reached her ear."                _Frontispiece_
+
+ "Eleanor's eyes had wandered to the high, broad
+ north window."                                                     80
+
+ "Mufty hastily established himself across her
+ shoulder."                                                        142
+
+ "All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this
+ little hand."                                                     201
+
+ "Please ma'am, will ye gimme a bowkay?"                           227
+
+ "'Good afternoon, Grandfather,' was the
+ apparition's cheerful greeting."                                  255
+
+
+
+
+BLYTHE HALLIDAY'S VOYAGE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE CROW'S NEST
+
+
+"You never told me how you happened to name her Blythe."
+
+The two old friends, Mr. John DeWitt and Mrs. Halliday, were reclining
+side by side in their steamer-chairs, lulled into a quiescent mood by
+the gentle, scarcely perceptible, motion of the vessel. It was an
+exertion to speak, and Mrs. Halliday replied evasively, "Do you like
+the name?"
+
+"For Blythe,--yes. But I don't know another girl who could carry it
+off so well. Tell me how it happened."
+
+Then Blythe's mother reluctantly gathered herself together for a
+serious effort, and said: "It was the old Scotch nurse who did it. She
+called her 'a blythe lassie' before she was three days old. We had
+been hesitating between Lucretia for Charles's mother and Hannah for
+mine, and we compromised on Blythe!"
+
+Upon which the speaker, allowing her eyes to close definitively, took
+on the appearance of gentle inanition which characterised nine-tenths
+of her fellow-voyagers, ranged side by side in their steamer-chairs
+along the deck.
+
+They had passed the Azores, that lovely May morning, and were headed
+for Cape St. Vincent,--the good old _Lorelei_ lounging along at her
+easiest gait, the which is also her rapidest. For there is nothing
+more deceptive than a steamer's behaviour on a calm day when the sea
+offers no perceptible resistance to the keel.
+
+Here and there an insatiable novel-reader held a paper-covered volume
+before his nose, but more often the book had slid to the deck, to be
+picked up by Gustav, the prince of deck-stewards, and carefully tucked
+in among the wraps of the unconscious owner.
+
+Just now, however, Gustav was enjoying a moment of unaccustomed
+respite from activity, for his most exacting beneficiaries were not
+sufficiently awake to demand a service of him. He had administered
+_bouillon_ and lemonade and cracked ice by the gallon; he had
+scattered sandwiches and ginger cookies broadcast among them; he had
+tenderly inquired of the invalids, "'Ow you feel?" and had cheerfully
+pronounced them, one and all, to be "mush besser"; and now he himself
+was, for a fleeting moment, the centre of interest in the one tiny
+eddy of animation on the whole length of the deck.
+
+Just aft of the awning, in the full sunshine, he was engaged in
+"posing," with the sheepish air of a person having his photograph
+taken, while a fresh, comely girl of sixteen stood, kodak in hand,
+waiting for his attitude to relax. Half a dozen spectators, elderly
+men and small boys, stood about making facetious remarks, but Gustav
+and his youthful "operator" were too much in earnest to pay them much
+heed.
+
+Blythe Halliday was usually very much in earnest; by which is not to
+be inferred that she was of an alarmingly serious cast of mind. Her
+earnestness took the form of intense satisfaction in the matter in
+hand, whatever that might be, and she had found life a succession of
+delightful experiences, of which this one of an ocean voyage was
+perhaps the most delectable of all.
+
+In one particular Blythe totally disagreed with her mother; for Mrs.
+Halliday had declared, on one of the first universally unbecoming days
+of the voyage, that it was a mystery how all the agreeable people got
+to Europe, since so few of them were ever to be discovered on an ocean
+steamer! Whereas Blythe, for her part, had never dreamed that there
+were so many interesting persons in the world as were to be discovered
+among their fellow-voyagers.
+
+Was not the big, bluff Captain himself, with his unfathomable
+sea-craft and his autocratic power, a regular old Viking such as you
+might read of in your history books, but would hardly expect to meet
+with in the flesh? And was there not a real Italian Count, elderly
+but impressive, who had dealings with no one but his valet, the latter
+being a nimble personage with a wicked eye who seemed to possess the
+faculty of starting up through the deck as if summoned by a species of
+wireless telegraphy? Best of all, was not Blythe's opposite neighbour
+at the Captain's table a shaggy, keen-eyed Englishman, figuring on the
+passenger-list as "Mr. Grey," but who was generally believed to be no
+less a personage than Hugh Dalton, the famous poet, travelling
+incognito?
+
+This latter gentleman was more approachable than the Count, and had
+taken occasion to tell Blythe some very wonderful tales, besides still
+further endearing himself to her by listening with flattering
+attention to such narratives as she was pleased to relate for his
+benefit. Indeed, they were rapidly becoming fast friends and she was
+seriously contemplating a snap-shot at his expense.
+
+Mr. Grey, meanwhile, had joined the group in the sunshine, where he
+stood, pipe in mouth, with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of
+his reefer, regarding Gustav's awkwardness with kindly amusement.
+
+"There they go, those energetic young persons!" Mr. De Witt observed,
+a few minutes later, as Blythe and the Englishman walked past, in
+search of the Captain, whom Mr. Grey had suggested as the next subject
+for photographic prowess. "Do you suppose that really is Dalton?"
+
+Mr. De Witt spoke with entire disregard of the fact that Mrs. Halliday
+appeared to be slumbering tranquilly. And indeed an interrupted nap is
+so easily made good on shipboard that Blythe used sometimes to beg her
+mother to try and "fall awake" for a minute!
+
+On this occasion, as she walked past with the alleged poet, she
+remarked: "Even Mr. De Witt can't keep Mamma awake on shipboard, and
+she isn't a bit of a sleepy person on dry land."
+
+By way of response, Mr. Grey turned to contemplate the line of
+steamer-chairs, billowy with voluminous wraps, saying: "Doesn't the
+deck look like a sea becalmed? See! Those are the waves, too lazy to
+break!"
+
+"How funny the ocean would look if the waves forgot to turn over!"
+Blythe exclaimed, glancing across the gently undulating surface of the
+sea. "I don't suppose they've kept still one single instant in
+millions of years!"
+
+"Not since the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters," her
+companion returned, with quiet emphasis; and Blythe felt surer than
+ever that he really was the great poet whom people believed him to
+be.
+
+A moment later they had stormed the bridge, where they two, of all the
+ship's company, were pretty sure of a welcome. They found the Captain
+standing, with his sextant at his eye, the four gold stripes on his
+sleeve gleaming gaily in the sunshine. Evidently things were going
+right, for the visitors and their daring proposal were most graciously
+received.
+
+The fine old sea-dog stood like a man to be shot at; and as Blythe
+faced him, kodak in hand, the breeze playing pranks with her hair and
+blowing her golf-cape straight back from her shoulders, it was all so
+exhilarating that before she knew it she had turned her little camera
+upon the supposed Hugh Dalton himself, who made an absurd grimace and
+told her to "let her go!"
+
+It was always a delightful experience for Blythe to stand on the
+bridge and watch the ship's officers at their wonderful work of
+guiding the great sea-monster across the pathless deep. Here was the
+brain of the ship, as Mr. Grey had once pointed out, and to-day, when
+a sailor suddenly appeared above the gangway and, touching his hat,
+received a curt order,--"That is one of the nerves of the vessel," her
+companion said. "It carries the message of the brain to the furthest
+parts of the body."
+
+"And I suppose the eyes are up there," Blythe returned, glancing at
+the "crow's nest," half-way up the great forward mast, where the two
+lookouts were keeping their steady watch.
+
+"Yes," he rejoined, "that must be why they always have a pair of
+them,--so as to get a proper focus. _Nicht wahr, Herr Capitaen?_"
+
+And the little fiction was explained to the Captain, who grew more
+genial than ever under the stimulus of such agreeable conversation.
+
+"_Ja wohl!_" he agreed, heartily; "_Ja wohl!_"--which was really quite
+an outburst of eloquence for Captain Seemann.
+
+"If I couldn't be captain," Blythe announced, "I think I should choose
+to be lookout."
+
+"How is dat?" the Captain inquired.
+
+"It must be the best place of all, away up above everything and
+everybody."
+
+"And you would like to go up dare?"
+
+"Of course I should!"
+
+"And you would not be afraid?"
+
+"Not I!"
+
+Upon which the Captain, in high good-humour, declared, "I belief
+you!"
+
+After that he fell to speaking German with Mr. Grey, and Blythe moved
+to the end of the bridge, and stood looking down upon the steerage
+passengers, where they were disporting themselves in the sun on the
+lower deck.
+
+They were a motley crew, and she never tired of watching them, as they
+sat about in picturesque groups, singing or playing games, or lay
+stretched on the deck, fast asleep.
+
+Somewhat apart from the others was a woman with a little girl whom
+Blythe had not before observed. The child lay on a bright shawl, her
+head against the woman's knee, her dark Italian eyes gazing straight
+up into the luminous blue of the sky. There was a curiously high-bred
+look in the pale features, young and unformed as they were, and Blythe
+wondered how such a child as that came to belong to the stout,
+middle-aged woman who did not herself seem altogether out of place in
+the rough steerage.
+
+At this point in her meditations, a quiet, matter-of-fact voice struck
+her ear, and, turning, she found that Mr. Grey had come up behind
+her.
+
+"The Captain says he will have the 'crow's nest' lowered and let you
+go up in it if you like," was the startling announcement which roused
+her from her revery.
+
+"Oh, you are making fun!" she protested.
+
+"I don't wonder you think so, but he seems quite in earnest, and I can
+tell you it's the chance of a lifetime!"
+
+"I should think it was!" she gasped. "Oh, tell him he's an angel with
+wings! And please, _please_ don't let him change his mind while I run
+and ask Mamma!" With which Blythe vanished down the gangway, her
+golf-cape rising straight up around her head as the draught took it.
+
+We may well believe that such a prospect as that drove from her mind
+all speculations as to the steerage passengers, and that even the
+thought of the little girl with the wonderful eyes did not again visit
+her in the few hours intervening.
+
+Yet when, that afternoon at eight-bells, she passed with Mr. Grey down
+the steep gangway to the steerage deck, which they were obliged to
+traverse on their way to the forecastle, and they came upon the
+little creature lying, with upturned face, against the woman's knee,
+Blythe felt a sharp pang of compunction and pity. The child looked
+even more pathetic than when seen from above, and the young girl
+involuntarily stooped in passing, and touched the wan little cheek.
+Whereupon one of those ineffable smiles which are the birthright of
+Italians lighted the little face, and the small hand was lifted with
+so captivating a gesture that Blythe, clasping it in her own, dropped
+on her knees beside the child.
+
+"Is it your little girl?" she asked, looking up into the face of the
+woman, whose marked unlikeness to the child was answer enough.
+
+"No, no, Signorina," the woman protested. "She is my little
+Signorina."
+
+"And you are taking her to Italy?"
+
+"_Si, Signorina; alla bella Italia_!"
+
+Then the lips of the little girl parted with a still more radiant
+smile, and she murmured, "_Alla bella Italia_!"
+
+A moment later, Blythe and her companion had passed on and up to the
+forward deck where, climbing a short ladder to the railing of the
+"crow's nest," they dropped lightly down into this most novel of
+elevators. There was a shrill whistle from the boatswain, the waving
+of white handkerchiefs where Mrs. Halliday and Mr. DeWitt stood,
+forward of the wheel-house, to watch the start; then the big windlass
+began to turn, the rope was "paid out," and the slow, rather creaky
+journey up the mast had begun.
+
+It was a perfect day for the adventure. The ship was not rolling at
+all, the little motion to be felt being a gentle tilt from stem to
+stern which manifested itself at long intervals in the slightest
+imaginable dip of the prow. And presently the ascent was accomplished,
+and the "crow's nest" once more clung in its accustomed place against
+the mast,--forty feet up in the air, according to Mr. Grey's
+reckoning.
+
+As they looked across the great sea the horizon seemed to have receded
+to an incalculable distance, and the airs that came to them across
+that broad expanse, unsullied by the faintest trace of man or his
+works, were purer than are often vouchsafed to mortals. Blythe felt
+her heart grow big with the sense of space and purity, and this
+wonderful swift passage through the upper air. Involuntarily she took
+off her hat to get the full sweep of the breeze upon her forehead.
+
+Suddenly, a new sound reached her ear,--a small, remote, confidential
+kind of voice, that seemed to arrive from nowhere in particular.
+
+"It's the Captain, hailing us through his megaphone," her companion
+remarked; and, glancing down, far down, in the direction of the
+bridge, Blythe beheld the Captain, looking curiously attenuated in the
+unusual perspective, standing with a gigantic object resembling a
+cornucopia raised to his lips.
+
+"You like it vare you are?" quoth the uncanny voice, not loud, but
+startlingly near.
+
+And Blythe nodded her head and waved her hat in vigorous assent.
+
+The great ship stretched long and narrow astern, the main deck shut in
+with awnings through which the huge smokestacks rose, and the
+wide-mouthed ventilators crooked their necks. Along either outer edge
+of the awnings a line of lifeboats showed, tied fast in their
+high-springing davits, while from the mouth of the yellow
+ship's-funnels black masses of smoke floated slowly and heavily
+astern. The _Lorelei_ swam the water like a wonderful white aquatic
+bird, leaving upon the quiet sea a long snowy track of foam.
+
+On a line with their lofty perch a sailor swung spider-like among the
+network of sheets and halyards that clung about the mainmast, its
+meshes clearly defined against the pure blue of the sky, while below
+there, on the bridge, the big brass nautical instruments gleamed, and
+the caps of the Captain and his lieutenants showed white in the sun.
+As Blythe glanced down and away from this stirring outlook, she could
+just distinguish among the dark figures of the steerage the small
+white face of the child upturned toward the sky; and again a sharp
+pang took her, a feeling that the little creature did not belong
+among those rough men and women. No wonder that the beautiful Italian
+eyes always sought the sky; it was their only refuge from sordid
+sights.
+
+"I suppose the woman meant that the child was her little mistress; did
+she not?" Blythe asked abruptly.
+
+"That was what I understood."
+
+"It's probably a romance; don't you think so?" and Blythe felt that
+she was applying to a high authority for information on such a head.
+
+"Looks like it," the great authority opined. "I think we shall have to
+investigate the case."
+
+"Oh, will you? And you speak Italian so beautifully!"
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"Oh, I'm sure of it! It sounds so exactly like the hand-organ men!"
+
+"Look here, Miss Blythe," the poet protested, "you must not flatter a
+modest man like that. My daughter would say you were turning my
+head."
+
+"Oh, I rather think your daughter knows that it's not the kind of head
+to be turned," Blythe answered easily. She was beginning to feel as
+if she had known this famous personage all her life.
+
+"I shall tell her that," said he.
+
+Presently one-bell sounded a faint tinkle far below, and the big
+megaphone inquired whether they wanted to come down, and was assured
+that they did not. And all the while during their voyage through the
+air, which was prolonged for another half-hour, the two good comrades
+were weaving romances about the little girl; and with a curious
+confidence, as if, forsooth, they could conjure up what fortunes they
+would out of that vast horizon toward which the good ship was bearing
+them on.
+
+At last the time came for them to go below, and they reluctantly
+signalled to the sailors, grouped about the deck in patient
+expectation. Upon which the windlass was set going, and slowly and
+creakingly the "crow's nest" was lowered from its airy height.
+
+The two aeronauts found the steerage still populous with queer
+figures, and the atmosphere seemed more unsavoury than ever after
+their sojourn among the upper airs. To their disappointment, however,
+the woman and her Signorina were nowhere to be seen. Blythe and Mr.
+Grey looked for them in every corner of the deck, but no trace of them
+was to be found, and Blythe mounted the gangway to their own deck with
+much of the reluctance which she often felt in submitting to an
+interruption in a serial story.
+
+They found Mrs. Halliday amusing herself with a glass of cracked ice,
+giving casual attention the while to a very long story told by a
+garrulous fellow-passenger in a wadded hood.
+
+"Oh, Mamma," Blythe cried, perching upon the extension foot of her
+mother's chair, "why didn't you and Mr. DeWitt stay longer? And how
+did it happen that nobody else got wind of it? I don't believe a
+single person knows what we've been about! And oh! we have had such a
+glorious time! It was like being a bird! Only that little girl in the
+steerage oughtn't to be there, and Mr. Grey and I are going to see
+what can be done about it, and----"
+
+The wadded hood had fallen silent, and now its wearer rose, with an
+air of resignation, and carried her tale to another listener, while
+Mr. Grey also moved away, leaving Blythe to tell her own story.
+
+They were great friends, Mrs. Halliday and this only child of hers,
+and well they might be; for, as Blythe had informed Mr. Grey early in
+their acquaintance; "Mamma and I are all there are of us."
+
+As she sat beside this best of friends,--having dropped into the chair
+left vacant by the wadded hood,--Blythe lived over again every
+experience and sensation of that eventful afternoon, and with the
+delightful sense of sharing it with somebody who understood. And,
+since the most abiding impression of all had been her solicitude for
+the little steerage passenger, she found no difficulty in arousing her
+mother to an almost equal interest in the child's fate.
+
+And presently, when the cornet player passed them, with the air of
+short-lived importance which comes to a ship's cornet three times a
+day, and, stationing himself well aft, played the cheerful little tune
+which heralds the approaching dinner-hour, Blythe slipped her hand
+into her mother's and said:
+
+"We'll do something about that little girl; won't us, Mumsey?"
+
+Upon which Mrs. Halliday, rising, and patting the rosy cheek which she
+used to call the "apple of her eye," said:
+
+"I shouldn't wonder if us did, Blythe."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE LITTLE SIGNORINA
+
+
+Blythe lay awake a long time that night, thinking, not of the bridge
+nor of the "crow's nest," not of the Captain nor of the supposed Hugh
+Dalton, but of the child in the steerage. How stifling it must be down
+there to-night! It was hot and airless enough here, where Blythe had a
+stateroom to herself,--separated from her mother's by a narrow
+passageway, and where the port-holes had been open all day. Now, to be
+sure, they were closed; for the sea was rising, and already the spray
+dashed against the thick glass. Oh, how must it be in the steerage!
+And how did it happen that that nice woman had been obliged to take
+her little Signorina in such squalid fashion to _la bella Italia_?
+
+Blythe fell asleep with the sound of creaking timbers in her ears, as
+the good ship strained against the rising sea, and when the clear note
+of the cornet, playing the morning hymn, roused her from her dreams,
+the roaring of wind and waves sent her thoughts with a shock of pity
+to the little steerage passenger shut up below. For with such a sea as
+this the waves must be sweeping the lower deck, and there could be no
+release for the poor little prisoner.
+
+"Vhy you not report that veather from the lookout?" the Captain asked
+with mock severity as Blythe appeared at the breakfast table.
+
+The racks were on, and the knives and forks had begun their
+time-honoured minuet within their funny little fences. The amateur
+"lookout" glanced across the table at her friend and ally the poet,
+who nodded encouragingly as she answered:
+
+"Oh, we knew the Captain knew all about it!"
+
+"You think de Capitaen know pretty much eferything, _wie es scheint_!"
+was the reply, uttered in so deep a guttural that Blythe knew the old
+Viking did not take very seriously the "bit of weather" that seemed to
+her so violent. In fact, he owned as much before he had finished his
+second cup of coffee.
+
+Yet when she came up the companionway after breakfast, she found a
+stout rope stretched across the deck from stanchion to stanchion to
+hold on by, the steamer chairs all tied fast to the rail that runs
+around the deckhouse, and every preparation made for rough weather.
+
+It was not what a sailor would have called a storm, but the sea was
+changed enough from the smiling calm of yesterday. Not many passengers
+were on deck, half a dozen, only, reclining in their chairs in the lee
+of the deckhouse, close reefed in their heavy wraps; while here and
+there a pair of indefatigable promenaders lurched and slid along the
+heaving deck arm in arm, or clung to any chance support in a desperate
+effort to keep their footing.
+
+Blythe had to buffet her way lustily as she turned a corner to
+windward. Holding her golf-cape close about her and jamming her felt
+hat well down on her head, she made her way to the narrow passageway
+forward of the wheel-house where one looks down into the steerage. The
+waves were dashing across the deck, which was deserted excepting for
+one or two dark-browed men crouched under shelter of the forecastle.
+
+There was a light, drizzling rain, and now and then the spray struck
+against her face. Blythe looked up at the "crow's nest," which was
+describing strange geometrical figures against the sky. The lookouts
+in their oil-coats did not seem in the least to mind their erratic
+passage through space. She wished it were eight-bells and time for
+them to change watch; it was always such fun to see them running up
+the ladder, hand over hand, their quick, monkey-like figures
+silhouetted against the sky.
+
+How nobly the great ship forged ahead against an angry sea, climbing
+now to the crest of a big wave, and giving a long, shuddering shake
+of determination before plunging down into a black, swirling hollow!
+And how the wind and the waters bellowed together!
+
+The Captain was on the bridge in his rubber coat and sou'-wester. He
+had said this would not last long, and he had stopped for a second cup
+of coffee before leaving the table. All the same, Blythe would not
+have ventured to accost him now, even if he had passed her way.
+
+Presently she returned under shelter of the awning and let Gustav tuck
+her up in her chair to dry off. And Mr. DeWitt came and sat down
+beside her and instructed her in the delectable game of "Buried
+Cities," in which she became speedily so proficient that, taking her
+cue from the lettering on one of the lifeboats, she discovered the
+city of Bremen lying "buried" in "the som_bre men_ace of the sea!"
+
+After a while, Gustav appeared before them, bearing a huge tray of
+_bouillon_ and sandwiches, with which he was striking the most
+eccentric angles; and Blythe discovered that she was preposterously
+hungry. And while her nose was still buried in her cup, she espied
+over its rim a pair of legs planted well apart, in the cause of
+equilibrium, and the big, pleasant voice of Mr. Grey made itself heard
+above wind and sea, saying, "Guess where I've been."
+
+"In the smoking-room," was the prompt reply.
+
+"Guess again."
+
+"On the bridge,--only you wouldn't dare!"
+
+"Once more."
+
+"Oh, I know," Blythe cried, setting her thick cup down on the deck,
+and tumbling off her chair in a snarl of steamer-rugs; "You've been
+down in the steerage finding out about the little Signorina!"
+
+"Who told you?"
+
+"You did! You looked so pleased with yourself! Oh, do tell me all
+about her!"
+
+"Well, I've had a long talk with the woman. Shall we walk up and
+down?"
+
+And off they went, with that absence of ceremony which characterises
+life on shipboard, leaving Mr. DeWitt to bury his cities all unaided
+and unapplauded. Then, as the two walked up and down,--literally up
+and down, for the ship was pitching a bit, and sometimes they were
+labouring up-hill, and sometimes they were running down a steep
+incline,--as they walked up and down Mr. Grey told his story.
+
+The woman, Giuditta, had confided to him all she knew, and he had
+surmised more. Giuditta had known the family only since the time,
+three years ago, when she had been called in to take care of the
+little Cecilia during the illness of the Signora. The father had been
+a handsome good-for-nothing, who had got shot in a street row in
+that quarter of New York known as "Little Italy." He was
+nothing,--_niente_, _niente_;--but the Signora! Oh, if the gentleman
+could but have known the Signora, so beautiful, so patient, so sad!
+Giuditta had stayed with her and shared her fortunes, which were
+all, alas! misfortunes,--and had nursed her through a long
+decline. But never a word had she told of her own origin,--the
+beautiful Signora,--nor had her father's name ever passed her lips.
+Had she known that she was dying, perhaps then, for the child's
+sake, she might have forgotten her pride. But she was always
+thinking she should get well,--and then, one day, she died!
+
+There was very little left,--only a few dollars; but among the squalid
+properties of the pitiful little stage where the poor young thing had
+enacted the last act of her tragedy, was one picture, a _Madonna_,
+with the painter's name, G. Bellini, just decipherable. It was a
+little picture, twelve inches by sixteen, in a dingy old frame, and
+not a pretty picture at that. But a kind man, a dealer in antiquities,
+had given Giuditta one hundred dollars for it. "Think of that,
+Signore! One hundred dollars for an ugly little black picture no
+bigger than that!"
+
+"I suppose," Mr. Grey remarked, as they stood balancing themselves at
+an angle of many degrees,--"I suppose that the picture was
+genuine,--else the man would hardly have paid one hundred dollars for
+it."
+
+"And would it be worth more than that?"
+
+"A trifle," he replied, rather grimly. "Somewhere among the
+thousands."
+
+"But why should they have kept such a picture when they were so poor?
+Why didn't they sell it?"
+
+"That would hardly have occurred to them. It was evidently a family
+heirloom that the girl had taken with her because she loved it. I
+doubt if she guessed its value. A Bellini! A Giovanni Bellini, in a
+New York tenement house! Think of it! And now I suppose some
+millionaire has got it. Likely enough somebody who doesn't know enough
+to buy his own pictures! Horrible idea! Horrible!" and Mr. Grey strode
+along, all but snorting with rage at the thought.
+
+"But tell me more about the little girl," Blythe entreated, wishing
+the wind wouldn't blow her words out of her mouth so rudely. "Her name
+is Cecilia, you say?"
+
+"Yes; Cecilia. Dopo is the name they went by, but the nurse doesn't
+think it genuine. Her idea is that her Signora was the daughter of
+some great family, and got herself disowned by marrying an opera
+singer who subsequently made a fiasco and dropped his name with his
+fame. She doesn't think Dopo ever was a family name. It means 'after,'
+you know, and they may have adopted it for its ironical
+significance."
+
+"And the poor lady died and never told!" Blythe panted, as they toiled
+painfully up-hill with the rain beating in their faces.
+
+"Yes, and--look out! hold tight!" for suddenly the slant of the deck
+was reversed, and they came coasting down to an impromptu seat on a
+bench.
+
+"It seems," Mr. Grey went on, when they had resumed their somewhat
+arduous promenade,--"it seems the woman, Giuditta, is quite alone in
+the world and has been longing to get back to Italy. So she easily
+persuaded herself that she could find the child's family and establish
+her in high life. Giuditta has an uncommonly high idea of high life,"
+he added. "I think she imagines that somebody in a court train and a
+coronet will come to meet her Signorina at the pier in Genoa. Poor
+things! There'll be a rude awakening!"
+
+"But we won't let it be rude!" Blythe protested. "We must do something
+about it. Can't you think of anything to do?"
+
+They were standing now, clinging to the friendly rope stretched across
+the deck, shoulder high.
+
+"Giuditta's plan," Mr. Grey replied, "is the naive one of appealing to
+the Queen about it. And, seriously, I think it may be worth while to
+ask the American Minister to make inquiries. For there is, of course,
+a bare chance that the family may be known at Court. In the
+meantime----"
+
+"In the meantime," Blythe interposed, "we've got to get her out of the
+steerage!"
+
+"But how?"
+
+"Oh, Mamma will arrange that. We'll just make a cabin passenger of
+her, and I can take her in with me in my stateroom. Oh! how happy she
+will be, lying in my steamer chair, with that dear Gustav to wait on
+her! I must go down at once and get Mamma to say yes!"
+
+"And you think she will?"
+
+"I know she will! She is always doing nice things. If you really knew
+her you wouldn't doubt it!" And with that the young optimist vanished
+in her accustomed whirl of golf-cape.
+
+If faith can move mountains, it is perhaps no wonder that the implicit
+and energetic faith of which Blythe Halliday was possessed proved
+equal to the removal of a small child from one quarter to another of
+the big ship. The three persons concerned in bringing about the change
+were easily won over; for Mrs. Halliday was quite of Blythe's mind in
+the matter, Mr. Grey had little difficulty in bringing the Captain to
+their point of view, while, as for Giuditta, she hailed the event as
+the first step in the transformation of her small Signorina into the
+little "great lady" she was born to be.
+
+Accordingly, close upon luncheon time, when the sun was just breaking
+through the clouds, and the sea, true to the Captain's prediction, was
+already beginning to subside, the tiny Signorina was carried, in the
+strong arms of Gustav, up the steep gangway by the wheel-house, where
+Blythe and her mother, Mr. DeWitt and the poet, to say nothing of
+Captain Seemann himself, formed an impromptu reception committee for
+her little ladyship.
+
+As the child was set on her feet at the head of the gangway, she
+turned to throw a kiss down upon her faithful Giuditta, and then,
+without the slightest hesitation, she placed her hand in Blythe's, and
+walked away with her.
+
+That evening there was a dance on board the _Lorelei_; for it had been
+but the fringe of a storm which they had crossed, and the sea was
+again taking on its long, easy swell.
+
+The deck presented a festal appearance for the occasion. Rows of
+Japanese lanterns were strung from side to side against the white
+background of awning and deckhouse, and the flags of many nations
+lent their gay colours to the pretty scene. The ship's orchestra was
+in its element, playing with a "go" and rhythm which seemed caught
+from the pulsing movement of the ship itself.
+
+As Blythe, with Mr. DeWitt, who had been a famous dancer in his day,
+led off the Virginia Reel, she wondered how it would strike the
+sailors of a passing brig,--this gay apparition of light and music,
+riding the great, dark, solemn sea.
+
+The dance itself was rather a staid, middle-aged affair, for Blythe
+was the only young girl on board, and none but the youngest or the
+surest-footed could put much spirit into a dance where the law of
+gravitation was apparently changing base from moment to moment. Blythe
+and her partner, however, took little account of the moving floor
+beneath their feet, or the hesitating demeanour of their companions.
+One after another, even the most reluctant and self-distrustful of the
+revellers found themselves caught up into active participation in the
+figure.
+
+In a quiet corner of the deck sat Mrs. Halliday, with little Cecilia
+beside her, snugly stowed away in a nest of steamer-rugs; for they
+could not bear to take her below, out of the fresh, invigorating air.
+Their little guest spoke hardly any English, but, although Mrs.
+Halliday was under the impression that she herself spoke Italian, the
+child seemed more conversable in Blythe's company than in that of any
+one else, not excepting Mr. Grey, about whose linguistic
+accomplishments there could be no question.
+
+Accordingly when, the Virginia Reel being finished, Blythe came and
+sat on the foot of the little girl's chair, they fell into an animated
+conversation, each in her own tongue. And presently, during a pause in
+the music, the Italian Count chanced to pass their way, and, stopping
+in his solitary promenade, appeared to give ear to their talk.
+
+Suddenly he stooped, and, looking into the animated face of the child,
+inquired in his own tongue; "What is thy name, little one?"
+
+But when the pure, liquid, childish voice answered "Cecilia Dopo," he
+merely lifted his hat and, bowing ceremoniously, passed on.
+
+Mr. Grey, who had watched the little scene from a distance, joined the
+group a moment later and, taking a vacant chair beside Mrs. Halliday,
+remarked:
+
+"I think we shall have to cultivate the old gentleman. He might be
+induced to lend a hand in behalf of this young person. They are both
+Florentines," he added, thoughtfully, "and Florentine society is not
+large."
+
+"Then you really believe the nurse is right about the child?" Mrs.
+Halliday asked.
+
+"Oh, I shouldn't dare say that the mother was a great lady," he
+returned; "but there is certainly something high-bred about the little
+thing."
+
+"They often have that air," Mrs. Halliday demurred,--"even the beggar
+children."
+
+"Yes; to our eyes. But, do you know, I rather think the Italians
+themselves can tell the difference. I would rather trust Giuditta's
+judgment than my own. Besides," he added, after a long pause, during
+which he had been watching the expressive face of the child.
+"Besides,--there's that Giovanni Bellini. That sort of thing doesn't
+often stray into low society."
+
+At this juncture the tall Italian moved again into their
+neighbourhood, and stood, at a point where the awning had been drawn
+back, gazing, with a preoccupied air, out to sea.
+
+Rising from his seat, Mr. Grey approached him, remarking abruptly, and
+with a jerk of the head toward Cecilia, "Florentine, is she not?"
+
+"_Sicuro_," was the grave reply; upon which the Count moved away, to
+be seen no more that evening.
+
+As the Englishman rejoined them after this laconic interview, Blythe
+greeted him with a new theory.
+
+"Do you know," she said, "I used to think the Count was haughty and
+disagreeable, but I have changed my mind."
+
+"That only shows how susceptible you good Republicans are to any sign
+of attention from the nobility," was the teasing reply.
+
+"Perhaps you are right," Blythe returned, with the fair-mindedness
+which distinguished her. "You know I never saw a titled person before,
+excepting one red-headed English Lord, who hadn't any manners. I've
+often thought I should like, of all things, to know a King or Queen
+really well!"
+
+"You don't say so!" Mr. Grey laughed. "And what's your opinion now, of
+the old gentleman, since he deigned to interrupt your conversation?"
+
+"I believe he is unhappy."
+
+"What makes you think so?"
+
+"There's an unhappy look away back in his eyes. I never looked in
+before,--and then----"
+
+"And then----?"
+
+"There's something about his voice."
+
+"Yes; Tuscan, you know."
+
+"Oh, is that it? Well, any way, I like him!"
+
+"If that's the case, perhaps you could make better headway with him
+than I."
+
+"But I don't speak Italian."
+
+"Perhaps you speak French."
+
+"I know my conjugations," was the modest admission.
+
+"And I'm sure he would be enchanted to hear them," Mr. Grey laughed,
+as the orchestra struck into the familiar music of the Lancers,
+causing him to beat a retreat into the smoking-room.
+
+And while Blythe danced gaily and heartily with a boy somewhat younger
+than herself, and not quite as tall, her little protegee fell into a
+deep sleep. And presently, the dance being over, the faithful Gustav
+carried her down to Blythe's stateroom, where she was snugly tucked
+away in the gently rocking cradle of the lower berth.
+
+As for Blythe, thus relegated to the upper berth, she entered promptly
+into an agreeable dreamland, where she found herself speaking Italian
+fluently, and where she discovered, to her extreme satisfaction, that
+the Queen of Italy was her bosom friend!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A NEW DAWN
+
+
+It was pretty to see the little Signorina revive under the favouring
+influences of prosperity; and indeed the soft airs of the southern
+seas were never sweeter nor more caressing than those which came to
+console our voyagers for their short-lived storm.
+
+Life was full of interest and excitement for the little girl. The
+heavy lassitude of her steerage days had fallen from her, and already
+that first morning a delicate glow of returning vigour touched the
+little cheek.
+
+"She's picking up, isn't she?" Mr. DeWitt remarked, as he joined
+Blythe and the child at the head of the steerage gangway, where the
+little one was throwing enthusiastic kisses and musical Italian
+phrases down upon the hardly less radiant Giuditta.
+
+"Oh, yes!" was the confident reply. "She's a different child since her
+saltwater bath and her big bowl of oatmeal. Mamma says she really has
+a splendid physique, only she was smothering down there in the
+steerage."
+
+Then Mr. DeWitt stooped and, lifting the child, set her on the
+railing, where she could get a better view of her faithful friend
+below.
+
+"There! How do you like that?" he inquired.
+
+Upon which the little girl, finding herself unexpectedly on a level
+with Blythe's face, put up her tiny hand and stroked her cheek.
+
+"Like-a Signorina," she remarked with apparent irrelevance.
+
+"Oh! You do, do you? Well, she's a nice girl."
+
+"Nice-a girl-a," the child repeated, adding a vowel, Italian fashion,
+to each word.
+
+Then, with an appreciative look into the pleasant, whiskered
+countenance, whose owner was holding her so securely on her
+precarious perch, she pressed her little hand gently against his
+waistcoat, and gravely remarked, "Nice-a girl-a, _anche il Signore_!"
+
+"So! I'm a nice girl too, am I?" the old gentleman replied, much
+elated with the compliment.
+
+And Giuditta, down below, perceiving that her Signorina was making new
+conquests, snatched her bright handkerchief from her head, and waved
+it gaily; whereupon a score of the steerage passengers, seized with
+her enthusiasm, waved their hats and handkerchiefs and shouted;
+"_Buon' viaggio, Signorina! Buon' viaggio_!"
+
+And the little recipient of this ovation became so excited that she
+almost jumped out of the detaining arms of Mr. DeWitt, who, being of a
+cautious disposition, made haste to set her down again; upon which
+they all walked aft, under the big awning.
+
+"She makes friends easily," Mr. Grey remarked, later in the morning,
+as he and Blythe paused a moment in their game of ring-toss. The
+child was standing, clinging to the hand of a tall woman in black, a
+grave, silent Southerner who had hitherto kept quite to herself.
+
+"Yes," Blythe rejoined, "but she is fastidious. She will listen to no
+blandishments from any one whom she doesn't take a fancy to. That
+good-natured, talkative Mr. Distel has been trying all day to get her
+to come to him, but she always gives him the slip." And Blythe, in her
+preoccupation, proceeded to throw two rings out of three wide of the
+mark.
+
+"Has the Count taken any more notice of her?" Mr. Grey inquired,
+deftly tossing the smallest of all the rings over the top of the
+post.
+
+"Apparently not; but she takes a great deal of notice of him. See,
+she's watching him now. I should not be a bit surprised if she were to
+speak to him of her own accord one of these days."
+
+"There are not many days left," her companion remarked. "The Captain
+says we shall make Cape St. Vincent before night."
+
+"Oh, how fast the voyage is going!" Blythe sighed.
+
+Yet, sorry as she would be to have the voyage over, no one was more
+enchanted than Blythe when Cape St. Vincent rose out of the sea,
+marking the end of the Atlantic passage. It was just at sundown, and
+the beautiful headland, bathed in a golden light, stood, like the
+mystic battlements of a veritable "Castle in Spain," against a
+luminous sky.
+
+"Mamma," Blythe asked, "did you ever see anything more beautiful than
+that?"
+
+They were standing at the port railing, with the little girl between
+them, watching the great cliffs across the deep blue sea.
+
+"Nothing more beautiful than that seen through your eyes, Blythe."
+
+"I believe you do see it through my eyes, Mumsey," Blythe answered,
+thoughtfully, "just as I am getting to see things through Cecilia's
+eyes. I never realised before how things open up when you look at them
+that way."
+
+And Mrs. Halliday smiled a quiet, inward smile that Blythe understood
+with a new understanding.
+
+They took little Cecilia ashore with them at Gibraltar the next
+morning, and again Blythe experienced the truth of her new theory.
+
+It was our heroine's first glimpse of Europe, and no delectable detail
+of their hour's drive, no exotic bloom, no strange Moorish costume, no
+enchanting vista of cliff or sea, was lost upon her. Yet she felt that
+even her enthusiasm paled before the deep, speechless ecstasy of the
+little Cecilia. It was as if, in the tropical glow and fragrant
+warmth, the child were breathing her native air,--as if she had come
+to her own.
+
+On their return, as the grimy old tug which had carried them across
+the harbour came alongside the big steamer, the child suddenly
+exclaimed, "_Ecco, il Signore!_" and, following the direction of her
+gesture, their eyes met those of the Count looking down upon them. He
+instantly moved away, and they had soon forgotten him, in the
+pleasurable excitement of bestowing upon Giuditta the huge, hat-shaped
+basket filled with fruit which they had brought for her.
+
+Later in the day, as they weighed anchor and sailed out from the
+shadow of the great Rock, Blythe found herself standing with Mr. Grey
+at the stern-rail of their own deck, watching the face of the mighty
+cliff as it changed with the varying perspective.
+
+"Oh! I wish I were a poet or an artist or something!" she cried.
+
+"Would you take that monstrous fortress for a subject?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, and I should do something so splendid with it that nobody would
+dare to be satirical!" and she glanced defiantly at her companion,
+whose good-humoured countenance was wrinkling with amusement.
+
+"Let us see," he said. "How would this do?" And he gravely repeated
+the following:
+
+                "There once was a fortress named Gib,
+                Whose manners were haughty and--
+
+What rhymes with Gib?"
+
+"Glib!" Blythe cried.
+
+"Good!
+
+                 Whose manners were haughty and glib.
+                           If you tried to get in,
+                           She replied with a grin,--
+
+Quick! Give me another rhyme for Gib."
+
+"Rib!" Blythe suggested, audaciously.
+
+"Excellent, excellent! Rib! Now, how does it go?
+
+                There once was a fortress named Gib,
+                Whose manners were haughty and glib!
+                          If you tried to get in,
+                          She replied, with a grin,
+                'I'm Great Britain's impregnable rib!'
+
+Rather neat! Don't you think?"
+
+"O Mr. Grey!" Blythe cried. "You've got to write that in my
+voyage-book! It's the----"
+
+At that moment, a gesture from her companion caused her to turn and
+look behind her. There, only a few feet from where they were standing,
+but with his back to them, was the Count, sitting on one of the long,
+stationary benches fastened against the hatchway, while just at his
+knees stood little Cecilia. She was balancing herself with some
+difficulty on the gently swaying deck, holding out for his acceptance
+a small bunch of violets, which one of the market-women at Gibraltar
+had bestowed upon her.
+
+As he appeared to hesitate: "_Prendili!_" she cried, with pretty
+wilfulness. Upon which he took the little offering, and lifted it to
+his face.
+
+The child stood her ground resolutely, and presently, "Put me up!" she
+commanded, still in her own sweet tongue.
+
+Obediently he lifted her, and placed her beside him on the seat, where
+she sat clinging with one little hand to the sleeve of his coat to
+keep from slipping down, with the gentle dip of the vessel.
+
+The two sat, for a few minutes, quite silent, gazing off toward the
+African coast, and Blythe and her companion drew nearer, filled with
+curiosity as to the outcome of the interview.
+
+Presently the child looked up into the Count's face and inquired, with
+the pretty Tuscan accent which sounded like an echo of his own
+question on the evening of the dance:
+
+"What is thy name?"
+
+"Giovanni Battista Allamiraviglia."
+
+Cecilia repeated after him the long, musical name, without missing a
+syllable, and with a certain approving inflection which evidently had
+an ingratiating effect upon the many-syllabled aristocrat; for he
+lifted his carefully gloved hand and passed it gently over the little
+head.
+
+The child took the caress very naturally, and when, presently, the
+hand returned to the knee, she got possession of it, and began
+crossing the kid fingers one over the other, quite undisturbed by the
+fact that they invariably fell apart again as soon as she loosed her
+hold.
+
+At this juncture the two eavesdroppers moved discreetly away, and
+Blythe, leaving her fellow-conspirator far behind, flew to her
+mother's side, crying:
+
+"O Mumsey! She's simply winding him round her finger, and there's
+nothing he won't be ready to do for us now!"
+
+"Yes, dear; I'm delighted to hear it," Mrs. Halliday replied, with
+what Blythe was wont to call her "benignant and amused" expression.
+"And after a while you will tell me what you are talking about!"
+
+But Blythe, nothing daunted, only appealed to Mr. Grey, who had just
+caught up with her.
+
+"You agree with me, Mr. Grey; don't you?" she insisted.
+
+"Perfectly, and in every particular. Mrs. Halliday, your daughter and
+I have been eavesdropping, and we have come to confess."
+
+Whereupon Blythe dropped upon the foot of her mother's chair, Mr. Grey
+established himself in the chair adjoining, and they gave their
+somewhat bewildered auditor the benefit of a few facts.
+
+"I really believe," the Englishman remarked, in conclusion,--"I really
+believe that haughty old dago can help us if anybody can. And when
+your engaging young protegee has completed her conquest,--to-morrow,
+it may be, or the day after, for she's making quick work of
+it,--we'll see what can be done with him."
+
+And, after all, what could have been more natural than the attraction
+which, from that time forth, manifested itself between the Count and
+his small countrywoman? If the little girl, in making her very marked
+advances, had been governed by the unwavering instinct which always
+guided her choice of companions, the old man, for his part, could not
+but find refreshment, after his long, solitary voyage, in the pretty
+Tuscan prattle of the child. Most Italians love children, and the
+Count Giovanni Battista Allamiraviglia appeared to be no exception to
+his race.
+
+The two would sit together by the hour, absorbed, neither in the
+lovely sights of this wonderful Mediterranean voyage, nor in the
+movements of those about them, but simply and solely in one another.
+
+"She's telling her own story better than we could do," Mr. Grey used
+to say.
+
+It was now no unusual thing to see the child established on the old
+gentleman's knee, and once Blythe found her fast asleep in his arms.
+But it was not until the very last day of the voyage that the most
+wonderful thing of all occurred.
+
+The sea was smooth as a lake, and all day they had been sailing the
+length of the Riviera. All day people had been giving names to the
+gleaming white points on the distant, dreamy shore,--Nice, Mentone,
+San Remo,--names fragrant with association even to the mind of the
+young traveller, who knew them only from books and letters.
+
+Blythe and the little girl were sitting, somewhat apart from the
+others, on the long bench by the hatchway where Cecilia had first laid
+siege to the Count's affections, and Blythe was allowing the child to
+look through the large end of her field-glass,--a source of endless
+entertainment to them both. Suddenly Cecilia gave a little shriek of
+delight at the way her good friend, Mr. Grey, dwindled into a pigmy;
+upon which the Count, attracted apparently by her voice, left his
+chair and came and sat down beside them.
+
+As he lifted his hat, with a polite "_Permetta, Signorina_," Blythe
+noticed, for the first time on the whole voyage, that he was without
+his gloves. Perhaps the general humanising of his attitude, through
+intercourse with the child, had caused him to relax this little point
+of punctilio.
+
+Cecilia, meanwhile, had promptly climbed upon his knee, and now,
+laying hold of one of the ungloved hands, she began twisting a large
+seal ring which presented itself to her mind as a pleasing novelty.
+Presently her attention seemed arrested by the device of the seal, and
+she murmured softly, "_Fideliter_."
+
+Blythe might not have distinguished the word as being Latin rather
+than Italian, had she not been struck by the change of countenance in
+the wearer of the ring. He turned to her abruptly, and asked, in
+French:
+
+"Does she read?"
+
+"No," Blythe answered, thankful that she was not obliged to muster her
+"conjugations" for the emergency!
+
+There was a swift interchange of question and answer between the old
+man and the child, of which Blythe understood but little. She heard
+Cecilia say "Mamma," in answer to an imperative question; the words
+"_orologio_" and "_perduto_" were intelligible to her. She was sure
+that the crest and motto formed the subject of discussion, and it was
+distinctly borne in upon her that the same device--a mailed hand and
+arm with the word _Fideliter_ beneath it--had been engraved on a lost
+watch which had belonged to the child's mother. But it was all surmise
+on her part, and she could hardly refrain from shouting aloud to Mr.
+Grey, standing over there, in dense unconsciousness, to come quickly
+and interpret this exasperating tongue, which sounded so pretty, and
+eluded her understanding so hopelessly.
+
+The mind of the Count seemed to be turning in the same direction, for,
+after a little, he arose abruptly, and, setting the child down beside
+Blythe, walked straight across the deck to the Englishman, whom he
+accosted so unceremoniously that Blythe's sense of wonders unfolding
+was but confirmed.
+
+The two men turned and walked away to a more secluded part of the
+deck, where they remained, deep in conversation, for what seemed to
+Blythe a long, long time. She felt as if she must not leave her seat,
+lest she miss the thread of the plot,--for a plot it surely was, with
+its unravelling close at hand.
+
+At last she saw the two men striding forward in the direction of the
+steerage, and with a conspicuous absence of that aimlessness which
+marks the usual promenade at sea.
+
+The little girl was again amusing herself with the glasses, and, as
+the two arbiters of her destiny passed her line of vision, she laughed
+aloud at their swiftly diminishing forms. Impelled by a curious
+feeling that the child must take some serious part in this crucial
+moment of her destiny, Blythe quietly took the glasses from her and
+said, as she had done each night when she put her little charge to
+bed:
+
+"Will you say a little prayer, Cecilia?"
+
+And the child, wondering, yet perfectly docile, pulled out the little
+mother-of-pearl rosary that she always wore under her dress, and
+reverently murmured one of the prayers her mother had taught her.
+After which, as if beguiled by the association of ideas into thinking
+it bedtime, she curled herself up on the bench, and, with her head in
+Blythe's lap, fell fast asleep.
+
+And Blythe sat, lost in thought, absently stroking the little head,
+until suddenly Mr. Grey appeared before her.
+
+"You have been outrageously treated, Miss Blythe," he declared,
+seating himself beside her, "but I had to let the old fellow have his
+head."
+
+"Oh, don't tell me anything, till we find Mamma," Blythe cried. "It's
+all her doing, you know,--letting me have Cecilia up here," and,
+gently rousing the sleeper, she said, "Come, Cecilia. We are going to
+find the Signora."
+
+"And you consider it absolutely certain?" Mrs. Halliday asked, when
+Mr. Grey had finished his tale. She was far more surprised than
+Blythe, for she had had a longer experience of life, to teach her a
+distrust in fairy-stories.
+
+"There does not seem a doubt. The child's familiarity with the crest
+was striking enough, but that Bellini _Madonna_ clinches it. And then,
+Giuditta's description of both father and mother seems to be
+unmistakable."
+
+"Oh! To think of his finding the child that he had never heard of,
+just as he had given up the search for her mother!" Blythe exclaimed.
+
+Cecilia was again playing happily with the glasses, paying no heed to
+her companions.
+
+"The strangest thing of all to me," Mrs. Halliday declared, "is his
+relenting toward his daughter after all these years."
+
+"You must not forget that Fate had been pounding him pretty hard," Mr.
+Grey interposed. "When a man loses in one year two of his children,
+and the only grandchild he knows anything about, it's not surprising
+that he should soften a bit toward the only child he has left."
+
+They were still discussing this wonderful subject, when, half an hour
+later, the tall figure of the Count emerged from the companionway. As
+he bent his steps toward the other side of the deck he was visible
+only to the child, who stood facing the rest of the group. She
+promptly dropped the glasses upon Blythe's knee, and crying, "_Il
+Signore!_" ran and took hold of his hand; whereupon the two walked
+away together and were not seen for a long, long time.
+
+Then Blythe and Mr. Grey went up on the bridge and told the Captain.
+No one else was to know--not even Mr. DeWitt--until after they had
+landed, but the Captain was certainly entitled to their confidence.
+
+"For," Blythe said, "you know, Captain Seemann, it never would have
+happened if you had not sent us up in the crow's nest that day."
+
+Upon which the Captain, beaming his brightest, and letting his cigar
+go out in the damp breeze for the sake of making his little speech,
+declared:
+
+"I know one thing! It would neffer haf happen at all, if I had sent
+anybody else up in the crow's nest but just Miss Blythe Halliday with
+her bright eyes and her kind heart!"
+
+And Blythe was so overpowered by this tremendous compliment from the
+Captain of the _Lorelei_ that she had not a word to say for herself.
+
+That evening Mr. Grey inscribed his nonsense-verse in Blythe's book;
+and not that only, for to those classic lines he added the following:
+
+"The above was composed in collaboration with his esteemed
+fellow-passenger, Miss Blythe Halliday, by Hugh Dalton, _alias_ 'Mr.
+Grey.'"
+
+It was, of course, a great distinction to own such an autograph as
+that; yet somehow the kind, witty Mr. Grey had been so delightful just
+as he was, that Blythe hardly felt as if the famous name added so very
+much to her satisfaction in his acquaintance.
+
+"I knew it all the time," she declared, quietly; "but it didn't make
+any difference."
+
+"That's worth hearing," said Hugh Dalton.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+They parted from the little Cecilia at sunrise, but with promises on
+both sides of a speedy meeting among the hills of Tuscany.
+
+The old Count, with the child's hand clasped in his, paused as he
+reached the gangway, at the foot of which the triumphant Giuditta was
+awaiting them, and pointed toward the rosy east which was flushing the
+beautiful bay a deep crimson.
+
+"Signorina," he said in his careful French, made more careful by his
+effort to control his voice,--"Signorina, it is to you that I owe a
+new dawn,--to you and to your honoured mother."
+
+Then, as Mr. DeWitt and Mr. Grey approached, to tell them that
+everything was in readiness for them to land, Blythe turned, with the
+light of the sunrise in her face, and said, under her breath, so that
+only her mother could hear:
+
+"O Mumsey! How beautiful the world is, with you and me right in the
+very middle of it!"
+
+
+
+
+ARTFUL MADGE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE PRIZE CONTEST
+
+
+"Artful Madge" was the very flippant name by which Madge Burtwell's
+brother Ned had persisted in calling her from the time when, at the
+age of sixteen, she gained reluctant permission to become a student at
+the Art School.
+
+"Not that we have any objection to art," Mrs. Burtwell was wont to
+explain in a deprecatory tone; "only we should have preferred to have
+Madge graduate first, before devoting herself to a mere
+accomplishment. It seems a little like putting the trimming on a dress
+before sewing the seams up," she would add; "I did it once when I was
+a girl, and the dress always had a queer look."
+
+But Mrs. Burtwell, though firm in her own opinions, was something of
+a philosopher in her attitude toward the contrary-minded, and even
+where her own children were concerned she never allowed her influence
+to degenerate into tyranny. When she found Madge, at the age of
+sixteen, more eager than ever before to study art, and nothing else,
+she told her husband that they might as well make up their minds to
+it, and, at the word, their minds were made up. For Mr. Burtwell was
+the one entirely and unreasoningly tractable member of Mrs. Burtwell's
+flock; in explanation of which fact he was careful to point out that
+only a mature mind could appreciate the true worth of Mrs. Burtwell's
+judgment.
+
+The Burtwells were people of small means and of correspondingly modest
+requirements. They lived in an unfashionable quarter of the city, kept
+a maid-of-all-work, sent their children to the public schools, and got
+their books from the Public Library. Having no expensive tastes, they
+regarded themselves as well-to-do and envied no one.
+
+If Madge Burtwell's eyes had been a whit less clear, or her nature a
+thought less guileless, Ned would not have been so enchanted with his
+new name for her. Indeed, a few years ago she had been described by an
+only half-appreciative friend as "a splendid girl without a mite of
+tact," and if she had succeeded in somewhat softening the asperity of
+her natural frankness, there was enough of it left to lend a delicate
+shade of humour to the name.
+
+Artful Madge, then, was a student at the Art School, and a very
+promising one at that. At the end of three years she had made such
+good progress that she was promoted to painting in the Portrait Class,
+and since her special friend and crony, Eleanor Merritt, was also a
+member of that class, Madge considered her cup of happiness full. Not
+that there were not visions in plenty of still better things to come,
+but they seemed so far in the future that they hardly took on any
+relation with the actual present. Madge and Eleanor dreamed of Europe,
+of the old masters and of the great Paris studios, but it is a
+question whether the fulfillment of any dream could have made them
+happier than they were to-day. Certain it is, that, as they stood side
+by side in the great barren studio, clad in their much-bedaubed,
+long-sleeved aprons, and working away at a portrait head, they had
+little thought for anything but the task in hand. The one vital matter
+for the moment was the mixing and applying of their colours, and, in
+their eagerness to reproduce the exact contour of a cheek, or the
+precise shadow of an unbeautiful nose, they would hardly have
+transferred their attention from the most ill-favoured model to the
+last and greatest Whistler masterpiece.
+
+The girls at the Art School had got hold of Ned's name for his sister
+and adopted it with enthusiasm.
+
+"If you want to know the truth, ask Artful Madge," was a very common
+saying among them.
+
+"Artful Madge says it's a good likeness, anyhow!" modest little Minnie
+Drayton would maintain, when hard pressed by the teasing of the older
+girls.
+
+The incongruity of the name seemed somehow to throw into brighter
+relief the peculiar sincerity of its bearer's character, and by the
+time it was generally adopted among the students Madge Burtwell's
+popularity was established.
+
+It was well that Madge was a favourite, for in certain respects she
+was the worst sinner in the class. To begin with, her palette was the
+very largest in the room, and the most plentifully besmeared with
+colours, and woe to the girl who ventured too near it! As Madge stood
+before her easel, tall and fair and earnest, painting with an ardour
+and concentration which was all too sure to beguile her into her
+besetting sin of "exaggerating details," she wielded both brush- and
+palette-arm with a genial disregard of consequences. Nor could one
+count upon her confining her activities to one location. Like all the
+students, she was in the habit of backing away from her natural
+anchorage from time to time, the better to judge of her work, and not
+one of them all had such a fatal tendency to come up against an
+unoffending easel in the rear, sending canvas and paint-tubes rattling
+upon the floor.
+
+Instantly she would drop upon her knees, overcome with contrition, and
+help collect the scattered treasures, giving many a jar or joggle to
+neighbouring easels in the process.
+
+"It's a shame, Miss Folsom!" she would cry, struggling to her feet
+again, still clutching her beloved palette, which seemed fairly to
+rain colours on every surrounding object. "It's a shame! But if you
+will just cast your eye upon that thing of mine, you will perceive
+that it was the recklessness of desperation. Look at it! There's not a
+value in it!"
+
+Artful Madge was always forgiven, and no one ever thought of calling
+her awkward, and when, in the early autumn, a Saturday sketching club
+was organised, it was christened "The Artful Daubers" in honor of
+Madge, and she was unanimously elected president.
+
+The girls were not in the habit of paying much attention to chance
+visitors who came in from time to time and made the perilous passage
+among the easels, and lucky was the "parent" or "art-patron" who
+escaped without a streak of colour on some portion of his raiment.
+When Mrs. Oliver Jacques looked in upon them one memorable morning in
+February no premonition of great things to come stirred the company;
+only indifferent glances were directed upon her by the few who deigned
+to observe her at all. And this pleased Mrs. Oliver Jacques very much
+indeed.
+
+Yet, if the girls had paused to consider,--a thing which they never
+did when there was a model on the platform,--they would have been
+aware that their visitor was a person of importance in the world of
+Art, for importance in no other world would have secured to her the
+personal escort of Mr. Salome, the adored teacher of their class. Yet
+Mrs. Jacques was a charming little old lady who would have commanded
+attention on her own merits in any less preoccupied assembly than
+that of the studio. Her exceedingly bright eyes and her exceedingly
+white hair seemed to accentuate her animation of manner; there was so
+much sparkle in her face that even her silence did not lack point.
+
+She had accomplished her tortuous passage among the easels without
+meeting with any mishaps in the shape of Cremnitz-white or
+crimson-lake. She had paused occasionally and had bestowed a critical
+nod upon the one "blocked-in" countenance, or had drawn her brows
+together questioningly over a study in which the nose had a
+startlingly finished appearance in a still sketchy environment, but
+not until she had successfully avoided the last easel, planted at an
+erratic angle just where the unwary would be sure to stub his toe, did
+she make any remark.
+
+"A lot of them, aren't there?" she observed.
+
+"Yes, the school is pretty full," Mr. Salome replied. "In fact, we're
+a little bothered for room."
+
+"Any imagination among them?"
+
+"Well, as to that, it's rather early to form an opinion. Our aim just
+now is to keep them to facts. Some of them," the artist added with a
+smile, "are rather too much inclined to draw upon their imagination.
+Now there is one girl there who is, humanly speaking, certain to paint
+the model's hair jet-black, or as black as paint can be made. And yet,
+you see, there is not a black thread in it."
+
+"I wonder whether you would object to my making an experiment?" Mrs.
+Jacques asked, abruptly.
+
+And from that seemingly unpremeditated question of Mrs. Jacques', and
+from the consultation that ensued, grew the Prize Contest, destined to
+be famous in the annals of the school.
+
+When, on that very afternoon, the students were assembled for the
+occasion, they had not yet had time to adjust their minds to the
+magnitude of the interests involved. Yet the conditions were simple
+enough. That student who should, in the space of two hours, produce
+the best composition illustrative of "Hope" was to receive a prize of
+five hundred dollars! The conviction prevailed among them that the
+vivacious little old lady with the white hair could be none other than
+the fairy godmother of nursery lore, and it was only too delightful to
+find that agile and beneficent myth interesting herself in the cause
+of Art.
+
+When once the class was fairly launched upon its new emprise, a change
+in the usual aspect of things became apparent. In the first place,
+most of the students were seated; for, in a task of pure composition,
+there was no occasion either for standing or for "prowling,"--the term
+familiarly applied to the sometimes disastrous backward and forward
+movements of which mention has been made, and which ordinarily gave so
+much action to the scene. Furthermore, the use of watercolor, as
+lending itself more readily than oils to rapid execution, deprived the
+scene of one of its most picturesque features,--namely, the
+brilliant-hued palette which, with its similarity to a shield, was
+wont to lend its bearer an Amazonian air, not lost upon the class
+caricaturists. Subdued, however, and almost "lady-like" as the
+appearance of the class had become, hardly half an hour had passed
+before the genial spirit of creation had so taken possession of the
+assembly as to cast a glow and glamour of its own upon it. Here and
+there, to be sure, might still be seen an anxious, intent young face
+with eyes fixed upon vacancy, or an idle, if somewhat begrimed and
+parti-coloured hand, fiercely clutching a dejected head; but nearly
+all were already busily at work, eagerly painting, or as eagerly
+obliterating strokes too hastily made. The subject, hackneyed as it
+certainly is, had pleased and stimulated the girls. There was a
+mingled vagueness and familiarity in its suggestion which puzzled them
+and spurred them on at the same time.
+
+Among the most impetuous workers, almost from the outset, was Artful
+Madge. She had instantly conceived of Hope as a vague, beckoning
+figure, which was to take its significance from the multitude and
+variety of its followers. She chose a large sheet of paper and
+quickly sketched in the upper left-hand corner a very indefinite hint
+of a winged, luminous something,--it might have been an angel or a
+bird or a cloud, seen from a great distance, against a somewhat
+threatening sky. Without defining the form at all she very cleverly
+produced an impression of receding motion;--she ventured even to hope
+that there was something alluring in the motion. That, however, must
+be made unmistakably clear through the pursuing figures with which she
+proposed to fill the foreground.
+
+She glanced at Eleanor, who had not yet mixed a colour.
+
+"What are you waiting for?" she asked.
+
+"I don't seem ready to begin," said Eleanor, in an absent tone of
+voice.
+
+"Have you got an idea?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Then do hurry up and go ahead, or you'll get left."
+
+Madge sat a moment, looking straight before her.
+
+"What are you going to put in there?" asked Eleanor.
+
+"What I want is all the people in the world," Madge replied, with
+perfect gravity. "But there is not room for them."
+
+A moment later she was working furiously, with hot cheeks and shining
+eyes and breath coming faster and faster.
+
+First she would have a soldier. Madge had always loved a soldier; her
+father had been one in the great and splendid days before she was
+born. Yes, a soldier must come first. And forthwith a very sketchy
+warrior stepped, with a very martial air, upon the paper. Then an
+artist ought to come next;--only she could not think of any way of
+indicating his calling without the aid of some conventional emblem. A
+mere look of inspiration might belong to a poet or a preacher as well
+as to an artist. Besides which, she was by no means sure that she knew
+how to paint a look of inspiration. And then it came to her that,
+unless she could paint just that, her picture must be a failure; and
+so she fell upon it, and began sketching in figures of old and young,
+rich and poor, trying only to put into each face the eager, upward
+look which should focus all, in spirit as well as in actual direction,
+upon the flying, luminous figure. In some attempts she succeeded and
+in some she failed. There was one old woman, with abnormally deep
+wrinkles, and shoulders somewhat out of drawing, whose face had caught
+a curiously inspired look; Madge did not dare touch her again for fear
+of losing it. Her artist, on the other hand, the young man with the
+ideal brow and very large eyes, grew more and more inane and
+expressionless the more eagerly his creator worked at him.
+
+On the whole, the production as a two-hour composition by a three-year
+student was rather good than bad. When time was called Madge felt
+pretty sure that she should not win the prize; she had undertaken too
+much, both for the occasion and for her own ability. And yet it was
+borne in upon her to-day that she was going to make a better artist
+than she had ever before dared hope.
+
+So absorbed had she been in her own work, that she had completely
+forgotten Eleanor, and had not even been aware that her friend had
+begun painting an hour ago. Now she turned to her with compunction in
+her heart. Eleanor held her finished sketch in her hand, but her eyes
+had wandered to the high, broad north window which was one great sheet
+of radiant blue sky.
+
+Eleanor's composition was very simple, but extremely well done, and in
+the glance Madge was able to give it before the sketches were handed
+in she saw that it was delicately suggestive. It represented a curving
+shore, a quiet sea, and a saffron sky,--no sails on the sea, no clouds
+in the sky. Upon the shore stood a solitary pine-tree, almost denuded
+of branches, and against the tree leaned the slender figure of a
+youth, looking dreamily across the sea to the horizon, where the
+saffron colour was tinged with gold. That was all, but Madge felt sure
+that it was enough; and, as she thought about it, she felt herself
+very small and crude and confused, and she was conscious of a
+perfectly calm and dispassionate wish to tear her own sketch in two.
+She did not do so, however. There was no irritation, nor envy, nor
+even displeasure, in her mind. She had not supposed that either she or
+Eleanor could do anything so good as that sketch,--since one of them
+could, why, that was just so much clear gain.
+
+A moment later the studio was in a tumult. The sketches had been
+handed over to the three judges, who had gone into instant
+consultation over them. Mrs. Jacques had decreed, with characteristic
+decision, that the judges were bound to be as prompt as the
+competitors, and the award was promised within half an hour. What
+wonder if the usual tumult of dispersion was increased tenfold by the
+excitement of the occasion? The voices were pitched in a higher key,
+the easels clattered more noisily than ever, there was a more lively
+movement among the many-hued aprons, as they were pulled off and
+consigned with many a shake and a flourish to their respective pegs.
+
+[Illustration: "Eleanor's eyes had wandered to the high, broad north
+window."]
+
+"What did you paint?" asked one high voice, whose owner was
+enthusiastically shaking the water from her paint-brush all over the
+floor.
+
+"I painted you--working for the prize."
+
+"Not really!"
+
+"Yes, really! You were just at the right angle for it, and you did
+look so hopeful!"
+
+"You can't make me believe you played such a shabby trick upon me,
+Mary Downing!"
+
+"Shabby! If you knew how good-looking you were at a three-eighths'
+angle you would be grateful to me! You did have such an inspired look
+for a little while,--before you got disgusted, and began to wash
+out."
+
+"Jane Rhoades did an awfully pretty thing--a white bird with a boy
+running after it. But I felt perfectly certain that the little wretch
+had a gun in his other hand!"
+
+"What a fiery head you gave your angel, Mattie Stiles! He looked like
+Loge in _Rheingold!_"
+
+"I don't care," said Mattie, in a tone of voice that showed that she
+did care very much indeed. "I do like red hair, and we haven't had a
+chance to paint any all winter."
+
+"Red hair wouldn't make Titians of us," sighed Miss Isabella Ricker,
+who was of a despondent temperament.
+
+"It wouldn't be any hindrance, anyhow!" Mattie insisted.
+
+Meanwhile the half-hour was drawing to a close. A general air of rough
+order had descended upon the studio. The girls were sitting or
+standing about in groups, their remarks getting more disjointed and
+irrelevant as the nervousness of anticipation grew upon them. Madge
+and Eleanor had found a seat on the steps of the platform. The former
+was making a pencil sketch of Miss Isabella Ricker, who had abandoned
+herself to dejection in a remote corner of the room. Madge looked up
+suddenly, and found that Eleanor was watching her work.
+
+"Your thing is very interesting," she remarked, in a reserved tone,
+which, nevertheless, sent the colour mounting slowly up her friend's
+sensitive cheek. They both understood that no more commendatory
+adjective than "interesting" was to be found in the art-student's
+vocabulary.
+
+"You're partial, Madge."
+
+"Not a bit of it. But I know an interesting thing when I see it. If
+you win the prize," she asked abruptly, "what shall you do with the
+money?"
+
+"If you go to the moon next week, what shall you do with the green
+cheese?" Eleanor retorted, with an unprecedented outburst of sarcasm.
+
+"I think you might answer my question," said Madge; and at that
+instant the door opened and a hush fell upon the room.
+
+The suspense was not painfully prolonged. The Curator of the Art
+Museum, who had been associated with Mrs. Jacques and Mr. Salome as
+judge, stepped upon the platform, from which Madge and Eleanor had
+precipitately retreated, and made the following announcement:
+
+"We have, on the whole," he said, "been very well pleased with the
+work we have had to consider. In fact, several of the sketches were
+better than anything we had looked for. Nevertheless our decision was
+not a difficult one, and our choice is unanimous. The prize which Mrs.
+Jacques has had the originality and the generosity to offer has been
+awarded to Mary Eleanor Merritt."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And now will you answer my question?"
+
+Madge and Eleanor were walking home together through the light snow
+which had just begun to fall. They had been curiously shy of speaking,
+and, before the silence was broken, a pretty wreath of snow had formed
+itself about the rim of each of their black felt hats, while little
+ribbons of it were decorating the folds of their garments.
+
+"What are you going to do with your green cheese?"
+
+"I shall go to Paris next autumn," said Eleanor, tightly clasping the
+check which she held inside her muff.
+
+"That's what I thought," said Madge; and if her eyes grew a trifle red
+and moist it was perhaps natural enough, since the snow was flying
+straight into them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE MINIATURE
+
+
+"What makes you keep looking at me, Eleanor Merritt? You're not a bit
+of a good model!"
+
+Thus reproved, Eleanor once more fixed her eyes upon a very bad
+oil-portrait of Great-grandfather Burtwell, an elderly man of a wooden
+countenance, in stock and choker, surmounting an expanse of black
+broadcloth which occupied two-thirds of the canvas.
+
+The girls were established in what was known as the spare-room of the
+Burtwell house, which, with its north light and usual freedom from
+visitors made a very good studio. Madge was painting a miniature of
+Eleanor. The diminutive size of her undertaking was causing her a good
+deal of embarrassment, and she was consequently inclined to be rather
+severe with her sitter.
+
+"You know I am not going to have many more chances of looking at you
+for a year to come," Eleanor urged, in a tone of meek dejection.
+
+"And I can't see you, even now," Madge persisted, "if you don't turn
+more toward the light."
+
+There was silence again for some minutes, while Madge painted steadily
+on. Difficult as was this new task which she had set herself, she was
+captivated with it. However the miniature might turn out as a
+likeness, she felt sure that each stroke of her brush was making a
+prettier picture of it. The eyes already had the real Eleanor look,
+and the hair was "pretty nice." The mouth was troublesome, to be sure,
+and to-day she did not feel inspired to improve it, and had turned her
+attention to less important details.
+
+"You've got such a pretty ear!" she remarked presently, as she touched
+its outermost rim with a hair line, cocking her head to one side, the
+while, in a very professional manner; "Did you ever notice what a
+pretty ear you have?"
+
+"Better be careful how you talk about it," Eleanor laughed, "for fear
+it should begin to burn!"
+
+The artist looked in some trepidation at the feature in question, but
+its soft hue did not deepen. She took the precaution, however, to
+change the subject; to one which she often chose, indeed, for the sake
+of the animation it brought into the pretty face of her model.
+Eleanor's "repose" sometimes bothered her.
+
+"What shall you do the first day in Paris?" Madge asked.
+
+"I shall write to you."
+
+"Good gracious! You won't write to me before you have seen the
+Louvre!"
+
+"I shall write to you the very first minute. And then I shall write
+again that same evening, and tell you whether there really is a
+Louvre! If there shouldn't be one, you know, I shouldn't feel so like
+a pig in being there without you!"
+
+"You needn't feel like a pig, as far as that goes," said Madge. "I
+couldn't have gone to Paris if I had won the prize."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Well, I had it out with Father this morning. He says it's not a mere
+matter of money; that if he and Mother thought well of my going, they
+could manage it."
+
+"O Madge! Can't you make them think well of it?"
+
+"I'm afraid not. Father never did really believe in my going in for
+art, and I think he believes in it less now than he ever did. He says
+I've been at it for three years, and I haven't painted a pretty
+picture yet. And he says he doesn't see what good it's going to do me
+in after-life; that if I marry I sha'n't keep it up, and there
+wouldn't be any good in my trying to;--which is, of course a mistake,
+only I can't make him believe that it is,--and he says that if I don't
+marry, I've got to earn my living sooner or later."
+
+"Why, but that's just it, Madge! You're going to be able to earn your
+living! You're sure to!"
+
+But Madge was again engrossed in her work. The afternoon would soon
+draw to a close, and if she wished to carry out her designs upon that
+ear it behooved her to stop talking. Though her little picture was an
+oval of three inches by four, it had cost her more strokes than any
+canvas of ten times the size had ever done. And Eleanor was to sail in
+a fortnight!
+
+At last the light began to fade, and Madge knew that she must stop.
+
+"What do you suppose Father said to me this morning?" she asked, as
+she washed out her brushes and put her paint-box in order.
+
+"I can't imagine."
+
+"Well, he said that when any good judge thought my pictures worth
+paying for in good hard cash, it would be time to think of sending me
+'traipsing over the world with my paint-pot.' He said that if I would
+come to him with a fifty-dollar bill of my own earning he should begin
+to think there was some sense in my art-talk."
+
+"Did he really say that? Why, Madge, who knows?"
+
+Madge had shut up her paint-box and moved to the window, where she was
+gloomily looking down into her neighbours' backyards.
+
+"If you mean Noah's Dove," she said, "You might as well give him up.
+He's come back for the thirteenth time."
+
+Now "Noah's Dove" was the name which Madge had bestowed upon a small
+bundle of pen-and-ink sketches which she had been sending about to the
+illustrated papers for two or three months past, and which had earned
+their name by the persistency with which they had found their way back
+again. The girls had both thought them funny and original; indeed
+Eleanor, with the partiality of one's best friend, did not hesitate to
+pronounce them better than many of the things that got accepted. Up to
+this time, however, no editor had seemed disposed to recognise their
+merits, and they had been repeatedly and ignominiously rejected.
+
+"But you'll keep on sending them, won't you, Madge?" Eleanor
+insisted.
+
+"Of course I shall, as long as there is a picture-paper left in the
+country; though the postage does cost an awful lot!"
+
+The sun had set, and a tinge of rosy colour was spreading across the
+northern sky behind the chimneys. The girls stood silent for a moment,
+watching the colour deepen, while a wistful look came into Eleanor's
+face.
+
+"After all, Madge," she said; "it must be nice to have somebody think
+for you, even when he doesn't think the way you want him to."
+
+"Oh, of course, Father's a dear. I don't suppose I would swap him off,
+even for Paris!"
+
+"I wish I could even remember my father or my mother, or anybody that
+really belonged to me!" Eleanor said; then, feeling that she was
+making an appeal for sympathy, a thing which she was principled
+against doing, she turned her eyes away from the tender, beguiling
+colour behind the chimneys, and looked, instead, at the big oil
+portrait on the wall. "It's something to have even a painted
+grandfather of your own!" she declared.
+
+"How I should love to give you mine!" laughed Madge. "He's such a
+horrible daub, and I should so like to have the frame when it comes
+time to exhibit! You would not insist upon having him in a frame,
+would you, Nell?"
+
+Presently the girls went down-stairs together and Eleanor stayed to
+tea, and told the family all about her Paris plans, and how she felt
+like a pig to be going without Madge. And all the time, as she talked
+to these kindly, sympathetic people, it seemed to her that Madge was
+even more to be envied than she; and she wished she knew how to say so
+in an acceptable manner. But Eleanor found as much difficulty as most
+of us do, in expressing our best and truest thoughts, and so the
+Burtwell family never knew what a heart-warming impression they had
+made upon their guest.
+
+Eleanor had lived for the past three years with a married cousin, a
+daughter of the not particularly congenial or affectionate Aunt Sarah,
+now deceased, who had brought her up from babyhood. The gentle,
+sensitive girl, with the artistic temperament, had never been happy
+with her cousin, though the latter was far from suspecting the fact.
+Mrs. Hamilton Hicks was fond of Eleanor, or imagined herself to be so,
+and she always gave her young cousin her due share of credit, in view
+of the fact that they had "never had any words together."
+Nevertheless, she had acceded very readily to the Paris plan, and had
+herself taken pains to find a suitable chaperon for the young
+traveller.
+
+The result was, that on the fifteenth of September Eleanor went forth
+into the great world in company with a lively and voluble Frenchwoman,
+a lady whom she had seen but twice before in her life, who had
+promised to establish her in a good private family in Paris. And since
+Mrs. Hamilton Hicks had negotiated the arrangement, its success was a
+foregone conclusion.
+
+When Madge left the railway station after bidding Eleanor good-bye,
+and stepped out into the crowded city thoroughfare, the world seemed
+to her very empty and desolate, in spite of the multitude of her
+fellow-creatures who jostled against her. She could think of nothing
+but Eleanor, standing on the platform of the car as the train moved
+out of the station, and she was desperately sorry to have lost the
+last sight of her friend's tearful face, because of a curious blur
+that had come over her own eyes at the moment. At the recollection,
+she mechanically put her hand into her pocket in search of the
+miniature which she usually carried about with her. She had left it at
+home lest she should lose it in the crowded railway station. It gave
+her a pang not to find it, and she made up her mind then and there
+that she would never go without it again.
+
+The moment she reached her own room she seized the picture and had a
+good look at it. She had placed it in the inner gilt rim of an old
+daguerreotype, which set it off very nicely. She had discarded the
+hard leather daguerreotype case, as being too clumsy to carry about in
+her pocket, and in its place had made a sort of pocket-book of red
+morocco which was a sufficient protection for the glass, in her
+careful keeping.
+
+She had never liked the picture so well as she did to-day, for she
+thought of it now for the first time, not as a work of art, but as a
+likeness, and imperfect as it was, even from that point of view, it
+gave her very great pleasure to look at it. Yes, decidedly, she must
+always have it by her hereafter; and she slipped it into her pocket
+while she made herself ready for tea.
+
+But supposing she should have her pocket picked! A pickpocket, she
+reflected, might, in the hastiness which must always characterise his
+operations, mistake the little leather case for a purse, and then--how
+should she ever get the precious miniature back again? "Not that he
+would want to keep it," she said to herself, as she took it out once
+more for a parting look,--"unless he should lose his heart to that
+ear!"--and she regarded the tiny pink object with pardonable pride.
+But with the best intentions in the world, how would he be able to
+restore it? She must put her address in the case; that would be a
+simple matter.
+
+An hour later, the family were gathered about the great round table in
+the pleasant sitting-room, pursuing their various avocations by the
+light of an excellent argand burner. Mr. Burtwell was reading his
+evening paper, imparting occasional choice bits to his wife and his
+eldest daughter, Julia, who were dealing with a heap of mending. The
+two younger children were playing lotto, while Ned was having a
+hand-to-hand tussle with his Cicero, a foeman likely to prove worthy
+of his steel.
+
+Madge had taken out a sheet of paper, with a view to inscribing her
+address upon it. The mere act of doing so had called up to her mind so
+vivid an impression of the thief for whose information it was
+destined, that she suddenly felt impelled to address to him a few
+words of admonition. With an agreeable sense of the absurdity of her
+performance, she began a letter to this figment of her imagination,
+and this is what she wrote:
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+"DEAR PICKPOCKET,
+
+"For, as I shall never leave this miniature about anywhere, you must
+be a pickpocket if it falls into your hands. To begin with, then; it
+is not a good miniature at all, and there is no use in your trying to
+sell it. In fact, it is a very bad miniature, as you will see if you
+know anything about such things, which you probably don't. But it is
+very valuable to me, and so I hope you will return it to me as soon as
+you find out how bad it is. You probably won't want to bring it
+yourself,--I'm sure I should not think you would!--but you can
+perfectly well send it by express, and you can let them collect
+charges on delivery, unless you think that, under the circumstances,
+you ought to prepay them. My address is,
+
+                                         Miss Margaret Burtwell," etc.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+Madge read over her production with an amusement and satisfaction
+which quite filled, for the moment, the aching void of which she had
+been so painfully conscious. The letter occupied but one-half the
+sheet, and, as the young artist's eye fell upon the blank third page,
+she was seized with an irresistible impulse to draw a picture on it.
+
+The figure of the pickpocket was by this time so vivid to her mind,
+that she began making a pen-and-ink sketch of him, as a dark-browed
+villain in the act of rifling the pocket of a very haughty young woman
+proceeding along the street with an air of extreme self-consciousness.
+The drawing was on a very small scale, and when it was finished to her
+satisfaction there was still half the page unoccupied. Madge hastily
+wrote under the sketch the words: "The Crime," and a moment later she
+was engrossed in the execution of a still more dramatic design,
+representing the criminal in the hands of two stalwart policemen,
+being ignominiously dragged through the street toward a sort of
+mediaeval fortress, with walls some twenty feet thick, upon which was
+inscribed in enormous characters, "JAIL." Still more action was given
+the drawing by the introduction of two or three small and gleeful
+ragamuffins, dancing a derisive war-dance behind the captive, and of
+two dogs of doubtful lineage, barking like mad on the outskirts of the
+group. Under this picture was inscribed, "The Consequences of Crime,"
+and at the bottom of the page appeared the words, "Behold and
+tremble!"
+
+"What's Artful Madge up to?" asked Ned, as he closed his Latin
+Dictionary with a bang.
+
+"Writing a letter," Madge replied, composedly.
+
+"To the Prize Pig?"
+
+"The what?"
+
+"The Prize Pig! You know Eleanor said she felt like a pig to be going
+to Paris without you, and as she got the prize----"
+
+"You impudent boy!"
+
+"Not in the least. I'm only witty."
+
+"Witty!"
+
+"Yes,--I've heard wit defined as the unexpected."
+
+"The dictionary doesn't define it so, and good manners don't define
+impudence as wit."
+
+"We're not discussing impudence, we're discussing wit. And I know
+positively that wit is defined as the unexpected."
+
+"Let's have your authority," said Mr. Burtwell, who had not heard the
+first part of the discussion.
+
+"Let us see what the dictionary says," suggested Julia, who was the
+scholar of the family.
+
+"Very well; and what will you bet that I'm not right?"
+
+"We don't bet in this family," said Mr. Burtwell, with decision.
+
+"Oh, well, that's only a form of speech. What will you do for me,
+Madge, if I'm right?"
+
+"I'll put you into an allegorical sketch."
+
+"Good! I always wondered that you didn't make use of such good
+material in the artful line!"
+
+The wire dictionary-stand, containing the portly form of Webster
+Unabridged, was instantly brought up to the light, and there was half
+a minute's silence while Ned turned the leaves.
+
+"Score me one!" he shouted, in high glee. "Listen to Webster! 'Wit. 3.
+Felicitous association of objects not usually connected, so as to
+produce a pleasant surprise.' Quite at your service, my artful
+relative, whenever you would like a sitting!"
+
+"I protest! You haven't won!"
+
+"Haven't won, indeed! I leave it to the gentlemen of the jury. Is not
+the name of Prize Pig for Miss Eleanor Merritt a 'felicitous
+association of objects not usually connected'?"
+
+"No! The association is infelicitous, and consequently it does not
+produce a 'pleasant surprise.'"
+
+The family listened with the amused tolerance with which they usually
+left such discussions to the two chief wranglers.
+
+"I maintain," insisted Ned, "that the association of objects is
+felicitous, and must be, because it was instituted by Miss Eleanor
+Merritt herself. She won the prize, and she said she was a pig."
+
+"But it doesn't produce a pleasant surprise," Madge objected.
+
+"I beg your pardon! It _has_ produced a pleasant surprise, as I can
+testify, for I have experienced it myself. What is your verdict,
+Mother?"
+
+"My verdict is, that it's a pity, as I always thought it was, that you
+are not to be a lawyer, and that Madge can't do better than practise
+her drawing by making the allegorical sketch."
+
+That Mrs. Burtwell should be on Ned's side was a foregone conclusion,
+and Madge appealed to her father.
+
+"Father, is calling Eleanor Merritt a prize pig a form of wit?"
+
+"Pretty poor wit I should call it!"
+
+"Father is on my side!" shouted Ned. "He says it's poor wit, which is
+only one way of saying that it is wit!"
+
+"Can wit be poor?" asked Julia.
+
+"Father says it can."
+
+"Then it isn't wit!" Madge protested.
+
+"I should like to know why not. Old Mr. Tanner is a poor man, but he's
+a man for all that, and votes at elections for the highest bidder.
+And your logic's poor, but I suppose you'd call it logic!"
+
+"I have an idea!" cried Madge. "I'm going to make my fortune out of
+you! I'm going to make a pair of excruciatingly funny pictures of you!
+The first shall be called _The Student and Logic_, and the second
+shall be called _Logic and the Student!_ In the first the student
+shall be patting Logic on the head, and in the second,--oh, it's an
+inspiration!"
+
+And forthwith Madge seized a large sheet of paper and began work.
+
+"I'm not sure that this won't be the beginning of a series," she
+declared. "When it's finished I shall send it to a funny paper and get
+fifty dollars for it,--and when I have got fifty dollars for it,
+Father will send me to Paris; won't you, Daddy, dear?"
+
+"What's that? What's that?" asked Mr. Burtwell.
+
+"When I get fifty dollars,--_or more!_--for my Student, you will send
+me to Europe!"
+
+"Oh, yes! And when you're Queen of England I shall be presented at
+Court! Listen to what the paper says: 'The Honourable Jacob Luddington
+and family have just returned from an extensive foreign tour. The two
+Miss Luddingtons were presented at the Court of St. James, where their
+exceptional beauty and elegance are said to have made a marked
+impression.' Good for the Honourable Jacob! His father was my father's
+chore-man, and here are his daughters hobnobbing with crowned heads!"
+
+From which digression it is fair to conclude that Mr. Burtwell did not
+attach any great importance to his daughter's question or to his own
+answer. But Madge put away the promise in the safest recesses of her
+memory as carefully as she had tucked the letter to her "dear
+pickpocket" inside the red morocco pocket-book. It seemed as if the
+one were likely to be called for about as soon as the other,--"which
+means never at all!" she said to herself, with a profound sigh.
+
+"The throes of creation have begun," Ned chuckled; and then, as he
+watched his sister's business-like proceedings, marvelling the while
+at what he secretly considered her quite phenomenal skill, he let
+himself be sufficiently carried away by enthusiasm to remark, "I say,
+Madge, you're no fool at that sort of thing, if you _are_ a girl!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+NOAH'S DOVE
+
+
+"I really think, Miss Burtwell, you might be a little more careful,"
+Miss Isabella Ricker wailed, in a tone of hopeless remonstrance. It
+was the third time that morning that Madge had knocked against her
+easel, and human nature could bear no more.
+
+"I think so too," said Madge, in a voice as dejected as her victim's
+own. "If I only knew how to prowl more intelligently, I would, I truly
+would."
+
+"Tie yourself to your own easel," suggested Delia Smith; "then that
+will have to go first."
+
+"You're a good one to talk!" cried Mary Downing. "You've upset my
+things twice this very morning!"
+
+"Put those two behind each other," Josephine Wilkes suggested. "It
+will be a lesson to them."
+
+"And who's going to sit behind the rear one?" somebody asked.
+
+"Harriet Wells," Delia Smith proposed. "Mr. Salome said 'very good' to
+her this morning; she must be proof against adversity."
+
+"No one is proof against adversity," Madge declared, in a tragic tone;
+but her remark passed unheeded. The girls were already at work again,
+and nothing short of another wreck was likely to distract their
+attention. The scrape of a palette-knife, the tread of a prowler, or
+the shoving of a chair to one side, were the only sounds audible in
+the room, excepting when the occasional roar of an electric car or the
+rattle of a passing waggon came in at the open window. It was the
+first warm day in April.
+
+Artful Madge's sententious observation with regard to adversity was
+the fruit of bitter experience. Misfortune's arrows had been raining
+thick and fast about her, and although she was holding her ground
+against them very well, she felt that adversity was a subject on which
+she was fitted to speak with authority.
+
+In the first place, her Student series was proving to be quite as much
+of a Noah's Dove as the first set of sketches which had so signally
+failed to find a permanent roosting-place in an inhospitable world.
+Only yesterday the familiar parcel had made its appearance on the
+front-entry table, that table which, for a year past, she had never
+come in sight of without a quicker beating of the heart. If she ever
+did have a bit of success, she often reflected, that piece of
+ancestral mahogany was likely to be the first to know of it. How often
+she had dreamed of the small business envelope, addressed in an
+unfamiliar hand, which might one day appear there! It would be half a
+second before she should take in the meaning of it. Then would come a
+premonitory thrill, instantly justified by a glance at the upper
+left-hand corner of the envelope, where the name of some great
+periodical would seem literally blazoned forth, however small the
+type in which it was printed. And then,--oh, then! the tearing open of
+the envelope, the unfolding of the sheet with trembling fingers, the
+check! Would it be for $10 or $15 or even $25, and might there be a
+word of editorial praise or admonition? Foolish, foolish dreams! And
+there was that hideous parcel, which she was getting to hate the very
+sight of! As she squeezed a long rope of burnt-sienna upon her
+palette, she made up her mind that she would wait a week before
+exposing herself to another disappointment. Perhaps the Student would
+improve with keeping, like violins and old masters. Certainly if he
+was anything like his prototype he needed maturing.
+
+Meanwhile the model's mouth was proving as troublesome to paint as
+Eleanor's had been, and as Madge grew more and more perplexed with the
+problem of it she thought of the miniature with a fresh pang. For she
+had lost it! Three days ago it had somehow slipped from her
+possession. Had she left it lying on the table in the Public Library?
+Nobody there had seen anything of it. But on the very day of her loss
+she had been at the Library, examining the current numbers of all the
+illustrated papers, in the hope of gleaning some hint as to editorial
+tastes. She remembered reading Eleanor's last letter there, the letter
+in which her friend had written that she was to have two years more of
+Paris. She had read the letter through twice, and then she had taken
+out the miniature and had a good look at it. To think of Eleanor,
+having two more years of Paris! And it had all come about so simply!
+She had merely persuaded her cousin, Mr. Hicks, to advance a few
+hundred dollars till she should be of age and at liberty to sell a
+bond.
+
+"There isn't anybody that believes in me," Madge had told herself; and
+then she had thought of something that Mr. Salome had said to her a
+few days ago, something that she would have considered it very
+unbecoming to repeat, even to Eleanor, but the memory of which, thus
+suddenly recalled, had filled her with such hopefulness that she had
+sped homeward to the mahogany table almost with a conviction of
+success. Was it in that sudden rush of hopefulness, so mistaken, alas,
+so groundless, that she had left the little morocco case lying about?
+Or had she pulled it out of her pocket with her handkerchief? Or had
+she really had her pocket picked?
+
+What wonder that in the stress of anxious speculation she was making
+bad work of her painting! This would never do! She took a long stride
+backwards, and over went Miss Ricker's long-suffering easel, prone
+upon the floor, carrying with it a neighbouring structure of similar
+unsteadiness, which was, however, happily empty, save for a couple of
+jam-pots filled with turpentine and oil! These plunged with headlong
+impetuosity into space, forming little rivers of stickiness, as they
+rolled half-way across the room. Everybody rushed to the rescue, while
+Miss Ricker gazed upon the catastrophe with stony displeasure.
+
+By a miracle, the canvas, though "butter-side-down," had escaped
+unscathed. Not until she was assured of this did the culprit speak.
+
+"I'm a disgrace to the class," she said, "and expulsion is the only
+remedy. Tell Mr. Salome that I have forfeited every right to
+membership, and it's quite possible that I may never exaggerate
+another detail as long as I live."
+
+"Time's up in two minutes," Mary Downing remarked, in her
+matter-of-fact voice, as she dabbed some yellow-ochre upon her
+subject's chin. "I rather think you'll come back to-morrow."
+
+"But I do think it's somebody's else turn to work behind her," said
+Josephine Wilkes.
+
+Miss Ricker gave a faint, assenting smile.
+
+"I think Miss Ricker is very much indebted to Artful Madge," Harriet
+Wells declared. "There isn't another girl in the class who could have
+knocked that easel over without damaging the picture."
+
+"Practice makes perfect," some one observed; and then, time being
+called, everybody began talking at once, and wit and wisdom were
+alike lost upon the company.
+
+But Artful Madge was not to be lightly consoled.
+
+"Mother," she said, that same afternoon, as she came into the little
+sitting-room over the front entry, where her mother was stitching on
+the sewing-machine, "I think I should like to do something useful. I'm
+kind of tired of art."
+
+Madge had been helping wash the luncheon dishes, and was beginning to
+wonder whether her talents were not, perhaps, of a purely domestic
+order.
+
+"I should think you _would_ be tired of it!" said Mrs. Burtwell, in
+perfect good faith, as she snipped the thread at the end of a seam.
+"How you can make up your mind to spend all your days bedaubing your
+clothes with those nasty paints passes my comprehension."
+
+"But sometimes I daub the canvas," Madge protested, with unwonted
+meekness, as she drew a grey woollen sock over her hand, and pounced
+upon a small hole in the toe; and at that very instant, which Madge
+was whimsically regarding as a possible turning-point in her career,
+the doorbell rang.
+
+"A gintleman to see you, Miss," said Nora, a moment later, handing
+Madge a card.
+
+"To see me?" asked Madge, incredulously, as she read the name, "Mr.
+Philip Spriggs! Are you sure he didn't ask for Father?"
+
+But Nora was quite clear that she had not made a mistake.
+
+"Who is it, Madge?" Mrs. Burtwell queried.
+
+"It's probably a book agent," said Madge, as she went down-stairs to
+the parlour, rather begrudging the interruption to her darning bout.
+
+Standing by the window, hat in hand, was an elderly man of a somewhat
+severe cast of countenance, as unsuggestive as possible, in his
+general appearance, of the comparatively frivolous name which a
+satirical fate had bestowed upon him.
+
+As Madge entered the room he observed, without advancing a step toward
+her: "You are Miss Burtwell, I suppose. I came to answer your letter
+in person."
+
+"My letter?" asked Madge, with a confused impression that something
+remarkable was going forward.
+
+"Yes; this one,"--and he drew from his pocket the red morocco
+miniature case.
+
+"Oh!" cried Madge, "how glad I am to have it!--and how kind you are to
+bring it!--and, oh! that dreadful letter!"
+
+The three aspects of the case had chased each other in rapid
+succession through her mind, and each had got its-self expressed in
+turn.
+
+Mr. Spriggs did not relax a muscle of his face.
+
+"I found this on a table in the Public Library," he stated. "Your
+directions were so explicit that I could do no less than be guided by
+them."
+
+There was something so solemn, almost judicial, about her guest that
+Madge became quite awestruck.
+
+"Won't you please take a seat?" she begged, humbly. "I think I could
+apologise better if you were to sit down."
+
+"Then you consider that there is occasion to apologise?" he asked,
+taking the proffered chair, and resting his hat upon the floor.
+
+"Indeed, yes!" said Madge. "It's perfectly dreadful to think of the
+letter having fallen into the hands of any one so--" and she broke
+short off.
+
+"So what?" asked Mr. Spriggs.
+
+"Why, so dignified and so--very different from--" but again she found
+herself unable to finish her sentence.
+
+"From a 'dear pickpocket?'" he suggested.
+
+"Did I say 'dear pickpocket'?" cried Madge in consternation. "I didn't
+know I said 'dear.'"
+
+"I suppose you desired to make a favourable impression, in order to
+get your picture back. There are some very good points about the
+picture," he remarked, as he took it out of the case and examined it.
+"There's a good deal of drawing in it, and considerable colour."
+
+"Do you know about pictures?" asked Madge with eager interest.
+
+"Not much. I've heard more or less art-jargon in my day; that's all."
+
+Madge looked at him suspiciously.
+
+"I am sure you will agree with me that I don't know much," he
+continued, "when I tell you that I prefer your pen-and-ink work to the
+miniature. 'The Consequences of Crime' is full of humour; and I have
+been given to understand that you can't produce an effect without
+skill,--what you would probably dignify with the name of technique.
+The second small boy on the right is not at all bad."
+
+"You do know about art!" cried Madge. "I rather think you must be an
+artist."
+
+Mr. Spriggs did not exactly change countenance; he only looked as if
+he were either trying to smile or trying not to. Madge wished she
+could make out just what were the lines and shadows in his face that
+produced this singular expression.
+
+"Have you never thought of doing anything for the papers?" he asked.
+
+"Thought of it! I've spent four dollars and sixty-one cents in postage
+within the last ten months, and he always comes back to the ark!"
+
+"'He'? Comes back where?"
+
+"To the ark. I call the package 'Noah's Dove' because it never finds a
+place to roost."
+
+"The original dove did, after a while." Mr. Spriggs spoke as if he
+were taking the serious, historical view of the incident. "I imagine
+yours will, one of these days. Have you got anything you could show
+me?"
+
+"Would you really care to see?"
+
+"I can't tell till you show me," he said cautiously; but this time
+there was something so very like a smile among the stern features that
+Madge could see just what the line was that produced it.
+
+She flew to her room, and seized Noah's Dove, and in five minutes that
+much-travelled bird had spread his wings,--all six of them,--for the
+delectation of this mysterious critic.
+
+Madge watched him, as he leaned back in his chair and examined the
+sketches. He seemed inclined to take his time over them, and she felt
+sure that her Student had never before been so seriously considered.
+
+At last Mr. Spriggs laid the drawings upon the table and fixed his
+thoughtful gaze upon the artist. His contemplation of her countenance
+was prolonged a good many seconds, yet Madge did not feel in the least
+self-conscious; it never once occurred to her that this severe old
+gentleman was thinking of anything but her Student. She found herself
+taking a very low view of her work, and quite ready to believe that
+perhaps, after all, those unappreciative editors knew what they were
+about.
+
+"Have you ever sent these to the _Gay Head?_" her visitor inquired
+casually.
+
+"Oh, no! I should not dare send anything to the _Gay Head!_"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Why! Because it's the best paper in the country. It would never look
+at my things."
+
+"It certainly won't if you never give it a chance. You had better try
+it," he went on, in a tone that carried a good deal of weight. "You
+know they can do no worse than return it; and I should think, myself,
+that the _Gay Head_ was quite as well worth expending postage-stamps
+on as any other paper. Mind; I don't say they'll take your
+things,--but it's worth trying for. By the way," he added as he rose
+to go; "I wouldn't send No. 5 if I were you; it's a chestnut."
+
+He had picked up his hat and stood on his feet so unexpectedly that
+Madge was afraid he would escape her without a word of thanks.
+
+"Oh, please wait just a minute," she begged. "I haven't told you a
+single word of how grateful I am. I feel somehow as if,--as if,--_the
+worst were over!_" This time Mr. Spriggs smiled broadly.
+
+"And you will send Noah's Dove to the _Gay Head?_"
+
+"Yes, I will, because you advise me to. But you mustn't think I'm
+conceited enough to expect him to roost there."
+
+And that very evening the dove spread his wings,--only five of them
+now,--and set forth on the most ambitious flight he had yet ventured
+upon.
+
+In the next few days Madge found her thoughts much occupied with
+speculations regarding her mysterious visitor; everything about him,
+his name, his errand, both the matter and the manner of his speech,
+roused and piqued her curiosity. It was clear that he knew a great
+deal about art. And yet, if he were an artist, she would certainly
+be familiar with his name. Whatever his calling, he was sure to
+be distinguished. Those judicial eyes would be severe with any
+work more pretentious than that of a mere student; that firm,
+discriminating hand,--she had been struck with the way he handled her
+sketches,--would never have signed a poor performance. Perhaps it was
+Elihu Vedder in disguise,--or Sargent, or Abbey! Since the descent of
+the fairy-godmother upon the class a year ago, no miracle seemed
+impossible. And yet, the miracle which actually befell would have
+seemed, of all imaginable ones, the most incredible. It took place,
+too, in the simplest, most unpremeditated manner, as miracles have a
+way of doing.
+
+One evening, about a week after the return of the miniature, the
+family were gathered together as usual about the argand burner. It was
+a warm evening, and Ned, who was to devote his energies to the cause
+of electrical science, when once he was delivered from the thraldom of
+the classics, had made some disparaging remarks about the heat
+engendered by gas.
+
+"By the way," said Mr. Burtwell, "that, reminds me! I have a letter
+for you, Madge. I met the postman just after I left the door this
+noon, and he handed me this with my gas bill. Who's your New York
+correspondent?"
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," said Madge, with entire sincerity, for it was
+far too early to look for any word from the _Gay Head_.
+
+The letter had the appearance of a friendly note, being enclosed in a
+square envelope, undecorated with any business address. Madge opened
+it, and glanced at the signature, which was at the bottom of the first
+page. The blood rushed to her face as her eye fell upon the name:
+"Philip Spriggs, Art Editor of the _Gay Head_."
+
+She read the letter very slowly, with a curious feeling that this was
+a dream, and she must be careful not to wake herself up. This was what
+she read:
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+"MY DEAR MISS BURTWELL,
+
+"We like Noah's Dove as much as I thought we should. We shall hope to
+get him out some time next year. Can't you work up the pickpocket
+idea? That small boy, the second one from the right, is nucleus enough
+for another set. In fact, it is the small-boy element in your Student
+that makes him original--and true to life. We think that you have the
+knack, and count upon you for better work yet. We take pleasure in
+handing you herewith a check for this.
+
+                                                 "Yours truly,
+                                                   "PHILIP SPRIGGS."
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The check was a very plain one on thin yellow paper, not in the least
+what she had looked for from a great publishing-house; but the amount
+inscribed in the upper left-hand corner of the modest slip of paper
+seemed to her worthy the proudest traditions of the _Gay Head_ itself.
+The check was for sixty dollars.
+
+As Madge gradually assured herself that she was awake, the first
+sensation that took shape in her mind was the very ridiculous one of
+regret that the mahogany table should have been deprived of its
+legitimate share in this great event. And then she remembered that it
+was her father himself who had handed her the letter.
+
+She was still wondering how she should break the news to him, when she
+found herself giving an odd little laugh, and asking, "Father, what is
+your favourite line of ocean steamers?"
+
+Mr. Burtwell, who had really felt no special curiosity as to his
+daughter's correspondent, was once more immersed in his evening paper.
+He looked up, at her words, as all the family did, and was struck by
+the expression of her face.
+
+"What makes you ask that?" he demanded sharply.
+
+"Because I know you always keep your promises, and--there's a letter
+you might like to read."
+
+Mr. Burtwell took the letter, frowning darkly, a habit of his when he
+was puzzled or anxious. He read the letter through twice, and then he
+examined the check. He did not speak at once. There was something so
+portentous in this deliberation, and something so very like emotion in
+his kind, sensible face, that even Ned was awed into respectful
+silence.
+
+At last Mr. Burtwell turned his eyes to his daughter's face, where
+everything, even suspense itself, seemed arrested, and said, in a
+matter-of-fact tone:
+
+"I think you had better go by the North German Lloyd. Shall you start
+this week?"
+
+"Oh, you darling!" cried Madge, throwing her arms about her father's
+neck, regardless of letter and check, which, being still in his
+hands, were called upon to bear the brunt of this attack; "How can I
+ever make up my mind to leave you?"
+
+
+
+
+THE IDEAS OF POLLY
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+DAN'S PLIGHT
+
+
+"_Well_, Mis' Lapham, I _am_ sorry to hear it, I _must_ say! It _doos_
+seem's though you'd _had_ your share of affliction!"
+
+Mrs. Henry Dodge always emphasised a great many of her words, which
+habit gave to her remarks an impression of peculiar sincerity and
+warmth; a perfectly correct impression, too, it must be admitted. Her
+needle, moreover, being quite as energetic as her tongue, she was a
+valuable member of the sewing-circle, at which function she was now
+assisting with much spirit.
+
+Mrs. Lapham accepted this tribute to her many trials with becoming
+modesty. She was a dull, colourless woman whose sole distinction lay
+in the visitations of affliction, and it is not too much to affirm
+that she was proud of them. She was sewing, not too rapidly, on a very
+long seam, which occupation was typical of her course of life. She
+sighed heavily in response to her neighbour's words of sympathy, and
+said:
+
+"It did seem hard that it should have been Dan, just as he was
+beginning to be a help to his uncle, and all. But I s'pose we'd ought
+to have been prepared for it."
+
+"There's been quite a pause in the death-roll," the Widow Criswell
+observed. She was engaged in sewing a button on a boy's jacket with a
+black thread.
+
+"How long is it since Eliza went?" asked Miss Louisa Bailey, pursuing
+the widow's train of thought.
+
+"Seven years this month. She began to cough at Christmas, and by
+Washington's Birthday she was in her grave."
+
+"And Jane? They didn't go very far apart, did they?"
+
+"No, Jane died eleven months before Eliza; and their mother went three
+years before that, and their father when Dan was a baby; that's goin'
+on sixteen years."
+
+"_Well_, you _have_ had a hard time, I _will_ say!" exclaimed Mrs.
+Dodge. "Your Martha losing her little girl, and John's wife breaking
+her collar-bone, and all, and now _this_ to be gone through with! I
+_should_ think you'd feel _discouraged_!"
+
+"I do; real discouraged. But I s'pose it's no more than I'd ought to
+expect, with such an inheritance."
+
+"Have there been many cases of lung-trouble on your side of the
+family, Mrs. Lapham?" Miss Bailey inquired with respectful interest.
+
+"No; Sister Fitch was the first case."
+
+For a few seconds, conversation languished, and only the snip of Mrs.
+Royce's scissors could be heard, and the soft rustle of cotton cloth.
+The sewing-circle was going on in the church vestry where there was a
+faint odour from the kerosene lamps, which had just been lighted. The
+Widow Criswell was the first to break the silence.
+
+"Polly ain't showed no symptoms yet, has she?" she asked, testing one
+of the buttons as if sceptical of her thread.
+
+"Well, no; not yet. But then Dan seemed as smart as anybody six months
+ago, and just look at him to-day!"
+
+The mental eyes of a score of women were turned upon Dan, as he was
+daily seen, round-shouldered and hollow-chested, toiling along the
+snowy country roads to and from school, coughing as he went. The topic
+was not an uncongenial one to the members of the sewing-circle, who
+had really very little to talk about. So absorbed were they, indeed,
+in the discussion of poor Dan's fate, and of the long list of
+casualties that had preceded it, that no one noticed the entrance of a
+young girl, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed, who had come to help with
+the supper. There was an air of peculiar freshness about her, and as
+she stood in her blue dress and white apron near the door, her ruddy
+brown hair shining in the lamp-light, the effect was like the opening
+of a window in a close room. Her step was arrested in the act of
+coming forward, and, as she paused to listen, the pretty colour was
+quite blotted out of her cheeks.
+
+"I don't think Dan's will be a lingering case," Mrs. Lapham was
+saying. "The lingering cases are the most trying."
+
+Polly stood motionless. Was it true then, that which she had dreaded,
+that which she had shrunk from facing? Was it more than a cold that
+Dan had got? Was Dan really ill? Her Dan? Really ill? Her heart was
+beating like a trip-hammer, but no one seemed to hear it.
+
+"Queer that the doctors don't find any cure for lung-trouble," Mrs.
+Royce was saying. "Seems as though there must be some way of stopping
+it, if you could only find it out."
+
+"Have you tried Kinderling's Certain Cure?" asked Mrs. Dodge. "They do
+say that it's _very_ efficacious."
+
+"Well, no," said Mrs. Lapham; "I don't hold much to medicines myself;
+but if I did I should think it just a wilful waste to try them for
+Dan. The boy's doomed, to begin with, and there's no help for it."
+
+"There _is_ a help for it, there _shall_ be a help for it!" cried a
+voice, vibrating with youthful energy and emotion. "I don't see how
+you can talk so, Aunt Lucia! Dan _isn't_ doomed! he _sha'n't_ die! I
+won't _let_ him die!"
+
+The women looked at Polly and then they looked at one another, fairly
+abashed by the girl's spirit; all, that is, excepting Aunt Lucia, who
+was not impressionable enough to feel anything but the superficial
+rudeness of Polly's outbreak.
+
+"That'll do, Polly," she said, with a spiritless severity. "This is no
+place for a display of temper."
+
+The colour had come back into the girl's face now, and there were hot
+tears in her eyes. She turned without a word and left the room, nor
+was she seen again among the waitresses who came to hand the tea.
+
+Polly was rather ashamed of having run away from the sewing-circle,
+and she had serious thoughts of going back. It was the first time in
+her life that she had allowed herself to be routed by circumstances;
+but somehow she felt as if she could not find it in her heart to hand
+about tea and seed-cakes, sandwiches and quince-preserve, to people
+who could think such dreadful thoughts of Dan. And then, besides, she
+knew what a pleasant surprise it would be for Dan to have her all to
+himself for an evening. Uncle Seth would be sure to go for his weekly
+game of checkers with Deacon White, and she could help Dan with his
+algebra and Latin, and see that he was warm and "comfy," and perhaps
+find that he did not cough so much as he did the evening before.
+
+They had a very cozy evening, she and Dan, just as she had planned it
+in every particular but one, namely, the cough. There was no
+improvement in that since the night before, and for the first time the
+boy spoke of it.
+
+"I say, Polly! Isn't it stupid, the way this cold hangs on? Do you
+remember how long it is since I caught it?"
+
+"Why, no, Dan. It does seem a good while, doesn't it? I guess it must
+be about over by this time. Don't you know how suddenly those things
+go?"
+
+Dan, who was on his way to bed, had stopped, close to the air-tight
+stove, to warm his hands.
+
+"I wish it were summer, Polly," he said, with a wistful look in his
+great black eyes that cut Polly to the heart. "It's been such a cold
+winter; and a fellow gets kind of tired of barking all the time."
+
+"It'll be spring before you know it, Dan, you see if it isn't, and
+you'll forget you ever had a cold in your life."
+
+And when, half an hour later, the evening was over, and Polly was safe
+in her bed, she buried her head in her pillow and cried herself to
+sleep.
+
+But tears and bewailings were not a natural resource with Polly, whose
+forte was action. Her first thought in the morning was: what should
+she do about it? Something must be done, of course, and she was the
+only one to do it. What it was she had not the faintest idea, but
+then it was her business to find out. Here was she, eighteen years
+old, strong and hearty, and with good practical common sense, the
+natural guardian and protector of her younger brother. It was time she
+bestirred herself!
+
+As a first step, she got up with the sun and dressed herself, and then
+she slipped down-stairs to the parlour where such of her father's
+books as had been rescued from auction were lodged; her father had
+been the village doctor. All the medical works had been sold, and many
+other volumes besides, but among those remaining was an old
+encyclopaedia which had proved to Polly a mine of information on many
+subjects. As she took down the third volume, she heard a portentous
+_Meaouw!_ and there, outside the window, stood Mufty, the grey cat,
+rubbing himself against the frosty pane. Polly opened the window and
+Mufty sprang in, bringing a puff of frosty air in his wake. Without so
+much as a word of thanks he walked over to the stove. Finding it,
+however, cold, as only an empty air-tight stove can be cold, he
+strolled, with a disengaged air, beneath which lurked a very distinct
+intention, toward the only warm object in the room, namely, Polly in
+her woollen gown. She had the volume open on the table before her, and
+was deep in its perusal, murmuring as she read.
+
+"Appears to have committed its ravages from the earliest time," Polly
+read, "and its distribution is probably universal, though far from
+equal."
+
+At this point Mufty lifted himself lightly in the air, after the
+manner peculiar to cats, and landed in Polly's lap. After switching
+his tail across her eyes once or twice, and rubbing himself against
+the book in rather a disturbing way, he at last settled down, and
+began purring vigorously in token of satisfaction. The room was very
+cold, and Polly, without interrupting her reading, was glad to bury
+her hands in the thick fur. Presently the colour in her cheeks grew
+brighter and her breath came quicker. There _was_ a way, after all!
+People had been saved, people a good deal sicker than Dan,--saved by
+a change of climate. What could be simpler? Just to pick Dan up and
+carry him off! And such fun, too!
+
+"Mufty," she whispered, excitedly, "Mufty, what should you say to Dan
+and me going away and never coming back again?"
+
+"_Brrrrr, brrrrr_," quoth Mufty.
+
+"I knew you would approve! You know how necessary it is, and you think
+it best to do it; don't you, Mufty?"
+
+"_Brrrr, brrrrrrrrrr_," quoth Mufty, again.
+
+"O Mufty, what a darling you are, to approve! And there isn't really
+any one's opinion that I care more about!"
+
+She got up and went to the window, while Mufty, not to be dislodged,
+hastily established himself across her shoulder, his fore paws well
+down her back, his tail contentedly waving before her eyes. The
+picture which he thus turned his back upon was a wintry one.
+
+"Cold morning, isn't it, Mufty?" said Polly. "No kind of a climate for
+a delicate person."
+
+"_Brrrr, brrrrrr!_" Mufty was digging a claw into her shoulder to
+adjust himself more comfortably.
+
+"Ow!" cried Polly. Then, lifting him down: "Mufty, you're a very
+intelligent cat, and I haven't a doubt that your judgment is as
+penetrating as your claws. All the same, I guess you'd better get down
+and come with me and help Susan get the breakfast. Don't you hear her
+shaking down the kitchen stove?"
+
+Whereupon Mufty, finding himself dropped upon the coldly unsympathetic
+ingrain carpet, desisted from further encouraging remarks.
+
+Polly was a schoolgirl still, though she was nearing the dignity of
+graduation. She had no special taste for study, but she cherished the
+Yankee reverence for education, and although it was not quite clear to
+her how Latin declensions and algebraic symbols were to help her in
+after-life, she committed them to memory with a very good grace, and
+enjoyed all the satisfaction of work for work's sake.
+
+It happened, therefore, that the pursuit of learning interfered for
+several hours with the far more important object which she had at
+heart to-day; and it was not until two o'clock that she found herself
+at liberty to do what every nerve and fibre of her young organism was
+straining to accomplish.
+
+[Illustration: "Mufty hastily established himself across her shoulder."]
+
+"I'm not going right home," she said to Dan; "I've got an errand to
+do."
+
+"Polly's got an idea," Dan said to himself, struck with the eagerness
+in her face, and the haste with which she walked away. "What a girl
+she is for ideas, any way!" and he trudged along the snowy road with
+the other boys, getting rather out of breath in the effort to keep up
+with them.
+
+Polly, meanwhile, stepped swiftly on her way. She was thinking of Dan.
+He at least was a natural student and had always led his class. She
+was not only fond of Dan, but proud of him, too. He was a handsome
+boy, with those clear, dark eyes of his in which a less partial
+observer than Polly might have read the promise of fine things.
+
+"Yes," Polly said to herself, as she sped along the road that
+glittering winter's day: "Dan isn't just an ordinary boy. He's an
+unusual boy. Why, the world couldn't _afford_ to lose Dan!" and she
+looked into the faces of the passers-by, as if to challenge their
+acquiescence in this bold statement.
+
+Whether Dan was all that Polly thought him, only the future could
+prove,--that future that Polly was about to secure to him. If she
+idealised him a bit, why, all the better for Dan, and all the better
+for Polly, too. One thing is sure, that no one who could have looked
+into the sister's heart that winter's day would have doubted her for
+an instant when she said to herself:
+
+"He sha'n't die! I won't let him die! But, _oh! how I wish that cough
+were mine!_"
+
+From her interview with the doctor, Polly brought away with her only
+one word, "_Colorado_"; and with that word shining like a great snowy
+peak in her imagination, she took another swift walk to a farmhouse
+on the outskirts of the village, where dwelt a man whose son had gone
+to Colorado three years ago.
+
+"Great place!" he told her; "Great place, Colorado! Mile up in the
+air! Prairie-dogs and Rocky Mountains! Big cattle ranches that could
+put all Fieldham in their vest pockets! Cold as thunder, hot as
+thunder! Blizzards and cyclones and water-spouts! Wind! Blow you right
+out of your boots! Cures sick folks? Oh, yes. Better than all the
+doctors. Braces 'em right up--stands 'em on their legs! Nothing like
+it, so Bill says. Costs a sight to get out there; oh, yes! Fifty
+dollars and fifteen cents! Queer about that fifteen cents. Seems as
+though they might ha' throwed that in on such a long trip's that; but
+them railroads ain't got no insides any way; and when you once git out
+there, why, _there you are!_"
+
+The philosophy of that last remark appealed particularly to Polly.
+"When you once git out there, why, _there you are!_" Somehow it seemed
+to make everything perfectly simple and easy. Blizzards and cyclones?
+Yes, to be sure. But then it was the air that you went out for, Polly
+reasoned, that was what was going to cure you; and perhaps the more
+you got of it the quicker you would get cured. And Polly hurried home
+from her last visit, flushed and eager for the fray. She found her
+uncle in the barn putting up his horses.
+
+Mr. Seth Lapham was a good man; there could be no doubt about that.
+Nothing but a sincere and very efficient conscience could have so
+tempered his natural penuriousness as to cause him to receive into his
+family a mere sister-in-law's children and allow them to "want for
+nothing"; that, too, at a time when his own children, John and Martha,
+were still a bill of expense to him, before their respective
+marriages. For many years, Uncle Seth had conscientiously, if not
+lavishly, fed and clothed the little orphans, whose entire patrimony
+in the Savings Bank scarcely yielded interest enough to pay for their
+boots and shoes; but it remained for the present crisis to prove him
+as open-minded as he was conscientious. For, no sooner had Polly
+finished the rapid exposition of her great plan--how they were to draw
+the money from the bank to pay for their tickets and start them in
+their new life, and how they were to earn their own living when once
+they got started--than he was ready to admit the reasonableness of
+it.
+
+"And when you once get out there, why, there you are!" Polly declared,
+in her most convincing tone.
+
+As she stood before him, flushed and breathless, prepared to do battle
+for Dan to the very last extremity, her uncle gave old Dick a slap
+that sent him tramping into his stall, and then said, with the
+drawling accent peculiar to him:
+
+"Well, Polly, you're a pretty sensible girl. If the doctor says so, I
+guess it's wuth trying."
+
+Then Polly, who had so courageously braced herself for the contest,
+experienced an overwhelming revulsion of feeling, and a great wave of
+gratitude and compunction swept over her. To Uncle Seth's speechless
+astonishment she flung her arms around his big neck, and, with some
+thing very like a sob, she cried:
+
+"Oh, Uncle Seth, I never loved you half enough!"
+
+Uncle Seth bore it very well, all things considered. He got pretty red
+in the face, but happily a full grizzly beard kept the secret of his
+blushes.
+
+"Why, Polly!" he said, pounding away on her shoulder in an attempt to
+be consolatory; "you've always ben a good girl; not a mite of trouble,
+not a mite!"
+
+They walked up to the house, Polly holding the rough, hairy hand as
+tightly as if it had been a solid chunk of gold. Before the short walk
+to the kitchen door was finished they had become sworn conspirators,
+and Uncle Seth was so entirely in the spirit of the piece that he held
+Polly back a minute to say, in a sepulchral whisper,
+
+"Just you leave your Aunt Lucia to me. I'll fix her."
+
+Polly never knew all the pains Uncle Seth was at to "fix" Aunt Lucia,
+but by hook or crook the "fixing" was accomplished, and Aunt Lucia had
+given a mournful consent.
+
+"I shouldn't feel it right," she declared, "to let you suppose I
+thought there was any hope of its curing Dan. That boy's doomed, if
+ever a boy was, and I don't know how you'll ever manage with the
+funeral and all, way out there in Colorado, far from kith and kin. But
+your Uncle Seth says you'd better try it, and I ain't one to oppose
+just for the sake of opposin'. I've been through too much for that.
+Only I warn you; mind, you don't forget I warned you."
+
+Polly listened to Aunt Lucia's lugubrious views with scarcely a twinge
+of alarm, and in five minutes she had plunged into preparations for
+the journey.
+
+As for Dan, the mere thought of Colorado seemed to revive him. "Larks"
+of any description had always been very much to his taste, but the
+unending "lark" of an escape into the big world with Polly filled him
+with a fairly riotous joy.
+
+And so it happened that by the time the March thaws were setting in
+and the March winds were getting ready for their boisterous attack,
+Polly and Dan had slipped away, and were travelling as fast as steam
+could carry them toward the high, health-giving region of the Rocky
+Mountains.
+
+"A harebrained venture as ever was!" Miss Louisa Bailey declared when
+she heard of it. "I don't see what Mr. and Mrs. Lapham were thinking
+of, to countenance such a step!"
+
+The monthly sewing-circle had come round again, and Mrs. Lapham, whose
+turn it was to look after the supper, had stepped out of the room for
+a moment.
+
+"Well, I don't know but it's about as well," the Widow Criswell
+rejoined, sighing profoundly. She was more out of spirits than usual
+to-day, for circumstances, otherwise known as Mrs. Royce, the
+president of the sewing-circle, had forced into her hands a baby's
+pinafore, the cheerful suggestiveness of which could only serve to
+deepen her gloom. "The boy's doomed, wherever he is, and Sister
+Lapham never had any real taste for sick-nursing. She's spared a sight
+o' trouble and expense."
+
+"_Well_," said Mrs. Henry Dodge, winding a needleful of No. 20 thread
+off the spool, with the hissing sound familiar to the ears of the
+seamstress, and breaking it off with a snap, "_I_ think it's the very
+_best_ thing that could have been _done_. The minute I _saw_ that
+girl's face last sewing-circle, I _knew_ she'd make out to _save that
+boy_. Mark my words, he'll outlive us all _yet!_ I declare, I always
+_did_ like Polly Fitch. She reminds me of _myself_ when _I_ was a
+girl!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+WESTWARD HO!
+
+
+"Pike's Peak or Bust!" was the chosen motto of those early pilgrims
+who, thirty-odd years ago, crossed the continent in a "prairie
+schooner," escorted by a cavalry guard to keep Indian marauders at a
+respectful distance; and "Pike's Peak or Bust!" was the motto chosen
+by Polly and Dan, our two young modern pilgrims, as they journeyed
+with greater ease, but with no less courage and venturesomeness,
+across the two thousand miles intervening between quiet Fieldham and
+their goal.
+
+"Pike's Peak or Bust!" No one looking into the bright young faces
+turned so bravely westward ho! could have had any doubt as to which of
+the two alternatives hinted at in that picturesque motto would be
+fulfilled for them. On they journeyed, on and on, past populous
+cities, across great rivers, over vast plains brown with last year's
+stubble or white with newly fallen snow, till at last there came a
+morning when they awoke in the tingling dawn, and, looking forth
+across miles of shadowy prairie, beheld a great white dome cut clear
+against a sapphire sky. On the train rushed, on and on, straight
+toward that snowy dome, and, as they drew nearer, other mountains
+began to define themselves on either side the central peak, and
+presently a town revealed itself, and they knew that it could be no
+other than Colorado Springs, sleeping there at the foot of the great
+range, all unconscious of the two young pilgrims, coming so
+confidingly to seek their fortunes within its borders.
+
+Their first spring and summer were a very happy time, of which Polly
+and Dan could relate a hundred noteworthy incidents. They rented a
+tiny cottage of three rooms in the unfashionable part of the town
+where rents were low. Here was a bit of ground all about, and a
+narrow porch that looked straight into the face of the splendid old
+Peak; and here they lived the merriest of lives on the smallest and
+most precarious of incomes; for they were determined to infringe as
+little as possible upon the slender capital, snugly stowed away in a
+Colorado bank.
+
+Dan soon found employment in a livery-stable at fifty cents a day. His
+chief business was the agreeable one of delivering "teams" and
+saddle-horses to pleasure-seekers at the north end of the town, riding
+back to the stable again on a "led horse" provided for the purpose. If
+not a very ambitious calling, it was, at least, exceedingly good fun,
+and it also had the merit of conforming to the doctor's directions.
+"Don't let him get behind a counter or into any stuffy back-office,"
+the doctor had said to Polly. "Whatever he does, let it keep him in
+the open air as much as possible." Had the very obvious wisdom of this
+advice required demonstration, Dan's rapid improvement would have been
+sufficient.
+
+They did not shock the sensibilities of the sewing-circle by writing
+home exactly what the employment was that Dan had found, while, for
+themselves, Polly had her own little ways of embellishing the somewhat
+prosaic situation. She dubbed the young stable-boy Hercules, and
+always spoke of the establishment he served as "The Augaeans." Nor did
+her invention fail when, a month or two later, Dan got a place at
+somewhat higher wages as druggist's messenger; for then he was
+promptly informed that his name was Mercury, and that there were wings
+on his heels, though he could not himself see them, by reason of their
+being turned back, and visible only when his feet were in rapid
+motion!
+
+Meanwhile, Polly, too, was doing her part, though it had not yet
+proved very lucrative. When they first took the house, Dan painted a
+sign for her, bearing the following announcement:
+
+               FINE NEEDLEWORK AND EMBROIDERY TO ORDER.
+
+But the spring and summer went by, and autumn came, and still the sign
+which had ornamented their house-front for so many months had as yet
+attracted the notice of only the impecunious class of customers their
+immediate neighbourhood afforded. Polly had gratefully taken coarse
+work at low prices, but she still hoped for better things. The street
+where their tiny cottage stood, though at the wrong end of the town,
+was a thoroughfare for pleasure parties driving to the great canyons,
+and Polly never saw the approach of a pretty turnout without a thrill
+of hope that the occupants might be attracted by her sign. She knew
+herself to be a quick and skilful needlewoman, and she thought that if
+only she might once get started in well-paid work, Dan, who was
+growing stronger every day, might go on with his education at the
+Colorado College Preparatory School. She had found out all about the
+college, of which she had formed a very high opinion, and she told
+herself proudly that Dan had such a good mind that he would not need
+to study too hard.
+
+One evening in September they were clearing the supper table,
+preparatory to washing up the dishes, which ceremony was one of the
+numerous "larks" by which brother and sister found life diversified
+and enlivened.
+
+"Mercury, I have an idea!" Polly suddenly cried.
+
+"Never saw the time you hadn't, Polly."
+
+"But this is a great idea, a really great one, because it includes all
+the little ones, like Milton's universe in the crescent moon; don't
+you remember?"
+
+"My goody, Polly! But it must be a corker!"--and Dan was all
+attention.
+
+Now Polly, it is needless to repeat, was a young person of ideas; that
+was her strong point, and Dan at least considered her a marvel of
+ingenuity and invention. Their tiny sitting-room, where Dan slept, was
+a witness to her taste and originality. There were picturesque shelves
+which Dan had made in accordance with her directions; there were
+cheesecloth window-curtains, with rustic boughs in place of poles;
+there were barrels standing bottom upward for tables, draped with
+ancient "duds"--a changeable-silk skirt of her mother's over one, a
+moth-eaten camel's-hair shawl over another. The crack in the only
+mirror which a munificent landlord had provided was concealed by a
+kinikinick vine; a piece of Turkey-red at five cents a yard, their one
+bit of extravagance, converted Dan's cot-bed into a canopy of state.
+And having heard Dan chant the praises of her "ideas" with gratifying
+persistence for a month past, Polly had begun to wonder whether they
+might not be turned to account.
+
+"What's the latest idea, Polly?" Dan asked, seizing a dripping handful
+of what they were pleased to call their "family plate."
+
+"Well, Dan, I want you to paint something more on my sign. Only two
+words; it won't take you long."
+
+"What two words?"
+
+"_Also Ideas!_"
+
+Dan reflected a moment, and then he proceeded to dance a jig of
+delight, wildly waving his dish-cloth about Polly's head.
+
+"Polly, you beat the world!" he cried.
+
+A house-painter lived next door, from whom Dan borrowed paint and
+brushes, and before they slept the old sign was further decorated with
+two magic words done in brilliant scarlet. The inscription now read:
+
+               FINE NEEDLEWORK AND EMBROIDERY TO ORDER.
+                              ALSO IDEAS
+
+There was something positively dazzling about those two words in
+flaming scarlet, and Polly and Dan stepped out twice in the course of
+their early breakfast to have a look at them.
+
+"Don't you feel scared, Polly?" asked Dan, as he left her at her
+dish-washing.
+
+"Scared? Not I!" and she walked down the path with him, drying her
+hands on a dish-towel.
+
+It was a delicious morning in late September; the air dry and
+sparkling as a jewel, the mountains baring their shoulders to the
+morning sun. The Peak had already a dash of winter on his crown, but
+the barren slope of rock below looked like an impregnable fortress.
+Polly and Dan were never tired of wondering at the changing moods that
+played so gloriously upon that steadfast front.
+
+"Seems as if they must almost see him from Fieldham this morning, he's
+so bright," said Polly.
+
+"That's so," Dan agreed. "I say, Polly, isn't he enjoying himself,
+though?"
+
+"Course he is!" Polly answered. "Isn't everybody?"
+
+Then Polly went back to her splashing water and flopping dish-towels,
+and was busy for an hour about the house. By and bye she sat herself
+down in the little porch and proceeded to put good honest stitches
+into a child's frock, for the making of which she was to receive
+twenty-five cents. Not very good pay for a day's work, but
+"twenty-five-hundred-million per cent. better than nothing," as she
+had assured the doubtful Dan.
+
+Life looked very different to her since those two bright words had
+been added to the sign. Not that it had looked otherwise than pleasant
+before; but there was so little originality in the idea of doing
+needlework that it had scarcely merited success, while this,--of
+course it must succeed!
+
+In truth, she had sat there hardly an hour, when she distinctly heard
+the occupant of a yellow buckboard read the sign, and then turn to her
+companion with a word of comment. Polly had always had an idea that
+one of those yellow buckboards would be the making of her fortune yet.
+The one in question was drawn by a pretty pair of ponies, and two
+young girls were in possession of it.
+
+"I have an idea they'll notice it again, when they come back this
+way," Polly surmised. "But if they're going up the canyon they won't
+come back till just as I'm getting dinner."
+
+And, sure enough, the mutton stew was just beginning to simmer, when
+there came a rap at the door.
+
+The front door opened directly into the little sitting-room, and was
+never closed in pleasant weather. As Polly emerged from the kitchen,
+her face very red from hobnobbing with the stove, she found one of
+the girls of the yellow buckboard standing in the doorway.
+
+"Good morning, Miss----"
+
+"Fitch. My name is Polly Fitch."
+
+"What a jolly name!" the visitor exclaimed. "I think you must be the
+one with ideas."
+
+"Yes," said Polly, "Do you want one? Come in and take a seat."
+
+"I do want an idea most dreadfully," the young lady rejoined, taking
+the proffered chair. "I want something for a booby prize for a
+backgammon tournament. I don't suppose anybody ever heard of a
+backgammon tournament before, but it's going to be great fun. We are
+doing it to take the conceit out of a young man we know, who declares
+that there's nothing in backgammon that he didn't learn the first time
+he played it with his grandfather."
+
+"And you want a booby prize?" Polly looked thoughtful for the space of
+sixteen seconds. Then she cried; "Oh, I have an idea! Get somebody to
+whittle you a couple of wooden dice; then paint them white and mark
+them with black sixes on each of the six sides of each die. You could
+call it '_a booby pair-o'-dice_' if you don't object to puns!"
+
+"What a good idea! It's simply perfect! I wonder whom I could get to
+do it for me?"
+
+"Why, Dan could do it with his jackknife, just as well as not. If
+you'll come to-morrow morning you shall have them."
+
+Accordingly, the next morning, the young lady appeared, and was
+enchanted with her prize.
+
+"And how much will they be?" she asked.
+
+"Well, I had thought of charging twenty-five cents for an idea, and
+the dice didn't cost us anything and only took a few minutes to
+make."
+
+"Supposing we call it a dollar. Would that be fair?"
+
+"I don't believe they are worth a dollar."
+
+"Yes, they are; I should be ashamed to take them for less. What a
+splendid idea that was of yours, to put out that sign!"
+
+"I should think it was, if I could get any more customers like you!"
+
+"I'll send them to you,--never you fear!"
+
+Miss Beatrice Compton returned to her buckboard a captive to Polly.
+
+"She's the sweetest thing," she told her mother, who chanced to be her
+passenger on this occasion. "She's got eyes and hair exactly of a
+colour, a sort of reddish brown, and her eyes twinkle at you in the
+dearest way, and she wears her hair in the quaintest pug, just in the
+right place on her head, sort of up in the air; and she's a lady, too;
+anybody can see that. I wonder who 'Dan' is; you don't suppose she's
+married, do you?"
+
+"You can't tell," Mrs. Compton replied. "Persons in that walk of life
+marry very young."
+
+"But, Mamma, she isn't a 'person,' and she doesn't belong to 'that
+walk of life.' She's a lady."
+
+Miss Beatrice was as good as her word, and three days had not passed
+when a horseman stopped before the little cottage, sprang from his
+horse, and looked about for a place to tie; there was no hitching-post
+near by. Polly was sitting in the porch making buttonholes.
+
+"If you were coming in here, you'd better lead him right up the walk,"
+she said, "and tie him to the porch-post."
+
+"That's a good idea!" the young man replied, promptly acting upon the
+advice. "You are Miss Polly Fitch, are you not?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I knew you the minute I saw you, because Miss Compton described you
+to me." This was meant to be very flattering, but Polly, who seldom
+missed a point, was quite unconscious that one had been made.
+
+"Have you come for an idea?" she asked, quite innocently, and Mr.
+Reginald Axton, who was rather sensitive, wondered whether she "meant
+anything." On second thoughts he concluded that she did not, and he
+began again:
+
+"I got that booby prize you made."
+
+"Did you?" cried Polly, with animation. "Oh, I wonder whether you
+were the one--" she paused.
+
+"The one that what?" he asked hastily.
+
+"The one that thought there wasn't anything in the game."
+
+"Well, yes, I was. And the others had all the luck, and so of course I
+got beaten."
+
+"Of course!" said Polly, with a twinkle of delight.
+
+"I see you're on their side, but all the same I want you to help me to
+pay them back. You see I wanted to do something about it, and I
+thought of sending Miss Compton some flowers with a verse, and I
+thought perhaps you could do the verse."
+
+"Did you expect me to furnish the idea, too?"
+
+"Why, of course! That's why I came to you. I thought, if you were so
+awfully bright, perhaps you could make verses."
+
+Polly looked thoughtful.
+
+"I should charge you quite a lot for it," she said,--"much as a dollar
+perhaps; for you know writing verses is quite an accomplishment."
+
+"I'll pay a dollar a line for it! I know a fellow that gets more than
+that from the magazines. And I'm sure that it will be good if you do
+it."
+
+"My gracious! that's great pay!" cried Polly, with sparkling eyes,
+ignoring the compliment, but enchanted to hear what a price verses
+brought. "I'll send it to you by mail."
+
+"No, I guess I'll look in every once in a while and see how you're
+getting on!"
+
+"Dear me!" said Polly, "you don't expect me to spend a week over it,
+do you? That isn't why you offered such high pay?"
+
+"Oh, no; the quicker you got it done the more I should be willing to
+pay for it." He paused a moment. "And, Miss Fitch," he went on, "I
+don't care if you make it a little,--well,--a little soft. She
+deserves it, she's such a tease! Her name's Beatrice," he added. "We
+call her Trix, if that'll help you any."
+
+Polly understood Mr. Reginald perfectly, and she dismissed him with a
+twinkle which promised well. Then Polly proceeded to cudgel her
+brain, while the needle went in and out, and a buttonhole formed
+itself in the firm, narrow line that makes of a buttonhole a work of
+art.
+
+"I wish I could rhyme words as well as I can stitches," Polly thought
+to herself, as she held up a completed buttonhole, with the honest
+pride of a good workman. "Sixes,--Trixes! that heart were Trix's! That
+ought to be made to go. A double rhyme, too! I don't believe he
+expects a double rhyme." And in and out and in and out her thoughts
+plied themselves round and about the two words, and her cheeks got
+quite hot with the pleasurable excitement of this new mental
+exercise.
+
+At last she tossed down her work, and, fetching a piece of brown
+wrapping-paper, proceeded, with many erasures and tinkerings, to
+inscribe upon it the following verse:
+
+         Were hearts the dice and love the game,
+             Of no avail were double sixes;
+         On every heart is but one name,
+             We nought could throw but _double-Trixes!_
+
+"Rather neat," said Polly to herself, "rather neat! Now if he were to
+send it with two bunches of roses of six each, I think it could not
+fail to make an impression. I should rather hate to pay another person
+to make love for me, though," she went on, with a little toss of the
+head; and then she picked up her work and began again to "rhyme
+buttonholes."
+
+When Dan came home to supper he had much to learn. He was lost in
+wonder over the rhyme which Polly repeated to him, but still more
+impressed by the four great silver dollars she had to show; for her
+impatient customer had already called for the verses.
+
+"Jiminy!" cried Dan; "that's most a week's earnings for some of us!"
+
+"Yes," Polly replied, demurely; "that's what Mrs. O'Toole would have
+paid me for sixteen baby-dresses. Things even themselves out in the
+long run, don't they, Dan?" As though Polly knew anything about the
+long run, by the way!
+
+Before Christmas Polly was driving a pretty trade, not only in ideas
+but in sewing. She had in all ten dozen pocket handkerchiefs to mark
+for Christmas customers, besides towels and table-linen, sheets and
+pillow-cases. People had found her out, and she had to refuse more
+than one good order for lack of time. But needlework alone, quick as
+she was in doing it, would have given her but a meagre income, had she
+not been able to furnish "also ideas."
+
+One lady, for instance, came to ask her for an "idea" for a
+Thanksgiving dinner, and Polly not only suggested the idea, but
+carried it out for her. She went about with a big basket to all the
+markets and collected perfect specimens of vegetables with which to
+make a centrepiece for the dinner table. The dinner was given in a
+house where the round dining table would seat twenty-four guests. In
+this ample centre she erected a pyramid of fruits of the earth. There
+were crimson beets, pale yellow squashes, scarlet tomatoes, and the
+long, thin fingers of the string-bean; potatoes furnished a
+comfortable brown, which, together with the soft bronze of the onion,
+harmonized discordant colours; and, crowning all, the silken tassel of
+the red-eared corn raised its graceful crest.
+
+The hostess was delighted with her table, and more delighted still
+with the pretty decorator. Polly's fame flew from one to another
+throughout that kindly and prosperous community, and she found herself
+accumulating a goodly hoard. As Christmas drew near, many a perplexed
+shopper came to her for "ideas," and all went away content. She had
+long since discovered that the Colorado shops were treasure-houses of
+pretty things. She never passed a jeweller's window without taking
+note of his latest novelties; she kept an eye upon Mexican and Indian
+bazaars, and Chinese bric-a-brac collections; she made a study of
+Colorado gems, and knew where the prizes lay hidden; she ran through
+the books in the bookstores; she was alert for new inventions in
+harness decoration and bridle trimmings; she gave hints for fancy-work
+of divers kinds.
+
+Mercury, meanwhile, sped about the town, dispensing healing, as Polly
+often reminded him, and "getting more than I dispense, Polly," he
+would declare in return. "I feel so well that everything is a regular
+lark!"
+
+And so Dan made a "lark" of his work, and trotted all day in his
+capacity of Mercury, little dreaming of the wealth that was
+accumulating for his use; while Polly went on with her hoarding, of
+which she made a great secret, and thought of a still better time
+coming.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A MERRY CHRISTMAS
+
+
+Of all Polly's new friends, not one took a warmer interest in the
+young idea-vendor than that first customer of hers, Miss Beatrice
+Compton. Miss Beatrice was a warm-hearted and enthusiastic girl, who
+never did anything by halves; and when she talked of Polly, of Polly's
+skill and of Polly's originality, when she extolled Polly's eyes and
+Polly's hair, Polly's wit and Polly's sweetness, few listeners
+remained quite unmoved and incurious. Among the many who were thus
+stirred to seek out this youthful paragon, was Miss Compton's
+brother-in-law, Mr. Horace Clapp. Nor was an idle curiosity his only
+motive in taking the step. Beneath the pretext he found for paying the
+visit lurked a rather shamefaced purpose of doing this "plucky little
+genius" a good turn.
+
+It happened, therefore, one morning in December, that Polly came home
+from her marketing to find a stranger sitting in her porch. A
+dog-cart, driven by a groom in livery, was passing and repassing her
+door; and one look at the occupant of the porch sufficed to fix the
+connection between the two. He was a well-dressed man of thirty or
+more, who rose as she opened the gate and saluted her as if she had
+been a duchess.
+
+"Miss Polly Fitch?" he inquired, as he stood before her, hat in hand.
+
+It was noticeable that no one ever omitted the "Polly" from the girl's
+name. It seemed as much a part of her as the ruddy hair and the dimple
+in her chin. That dimple, by the way, should have been mentioned long
+ago; but that, in its turn, was so essential a feature, that one would
+as soon think it necessary to state that Polly's nose had an upward
+tilt as that her chin had a dimple. Any one who had ever heard of
+Polly must know that her nose would tilt and her chin have a dimple.
+
+Polly had a large market-basket on her arm, and as she felt in her
+pocket for the key to the front door, her visitor took possession of
+the basket. She was a good deal impressed by the attention from so
+magnificent a personage, and one, moreover, of advanced years. She
+began to think that she must be mistaken about his being thirty; why,
+that was Cousin John's age, and Cousin John was quite an oldish man.
+She motioned her visitor to enter, and it must be admitted that there
+was no oppressive reverence in her tone as she said:
+
+"If you would tell me _your_ name, now we should be starting fair!"
+
+"My name is Horace Clapp. Did you ever hear of me?"
+
+"No, I don't think so. Ought I to have?"
+
+"Well, no, there's no obligation in the matter. I only had an idea
+that I was a local celebrity, like you."
+
+"Like me?"
+
+"Yes! You're a surprise to the town and so am I."
+
+"What have you done to surprise the town?" asked Polly, filled with
+curiosity.
+
+"I've only got rich very fast."
+
+"Why, so have I!" said Polly. "We _are_ a good deal alike."
+
+"Really? Then you will be in an even better position to advise me than
+I thought for."
+
+"I _supposed_ you had come for an idea," said Polly, as naturally as
+if her wares had consisted in tape and buttons.
+
+Offering her visitor the only fairly comfortable chair in the room,
+she seated herself by the window, near which was one of the draped
+barrels with her work-basket on top.
+
+"You won't mind my sewing, please," she said, picking up a bit of
+embroidery; "I can think better that way."
+
+The new customer meanwhile was wondering whether Miss Polly would
+guess that he had come partly from curiosity, and partly with that
+other far more daring motive of finding a way to do her a service.
+And yet, who could tell? Perhaps she _could_ give him a hint; perhaps
+she _was_ the youthful sibyl people seemed half inclined to believe
+her.
+
+"Miss Polly," he said, leaning forward in his chair, with his elbows
+on his knees,--"Miss Polly, I've got an awful lot of money, and I
+don't know what to do with it."
+
+Mere words had not often the power of staying Polly's needle, but at
+this astounding declaration she actually let her work fall in her lap,
+and gazed with wide-eyed wonder at the speaker.
+
+"Yes," he went on, "I really want to do some good with it, and I've
+tried in lots of ways and I've never hit it off. I should just like to
+tell you about some of the things I've made a fizzle of in the last
+year,--if it wouldn't bore you?"
+
+"Oh, no, it wouldn't bore me; nothing ever does. Only,--I can't
+understand it. Why, I think I could give away _a thousand dollars a
+year_ just there at home, where we used to live, and every dollar of
+it would be well spent!"
+
+"Yes, Miss Polly," he said very meekly, "but, you see, what I've got
+to consider is _two hundred thousand_ dollars a year!"
+
+He looked positively ashamed of himself, and Polly did not wonder. She
+had given a little gasp at mention of the sum; then she shook her head
+with decision. Polly knew her limits.
+
+"I haven't any ideas big enough for that" she said. "I should as soon
+think of advising the President of the United States!"
+
+"Well, if you won't advise me about mine, perhaps you will tell me
+what you are going to do with your own riches. You said you were
+getting rich, did you not? You know," he added, "it isn't necessary to
+make the map of a State as big as the State itself."
+
+"You have ideas, too," Polly remarked appreciatively, resuming her
+embroidery.
+
+"But you have not told me how you are going to use your riches."
+
+"Oh, I'm going to use mine for education."
+
+"Going up to the college?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, no; there'd be no good in my knowing a lot. I've been nearly
+through the Fieldham High School already, and the little that I've
+learned doesn't seem to stick very well. No, indeed! I'm going to--"
+she paused with a feeling of loyalty to Dan--"I'm only going to help
+on the general cause of education," she finished demurely.
+
+As she made this sphinx-like remark, Mr. Horace Clapp wished she would
+relinquish the pursuit of wealth long enough to put her work down and
+let him see exactly what she meant.
+
+"I think that is the best use to put money to," he said gravely, "but
+I'm not in the way of knowing about people who need help. Couldn't you
+tell me of somebody, some young man who wanted to go to college, or
+some girl who would like to go abroad? Of course, I could found a
+scholarship, or endow a 'chair,' but one likes a bit of the personal
+element in one's work."
+
+Polly's heart gave a thump. Here was a chance for Dan; a word from her
+was all that was needed to make his path an easy one. Had she a right
+to withhold that word,--to cramp and hinder him? She did not speak for
+a good many seconds; she simply plied her needle with more and more
+diligence, while her breath came fast and unevenly. Suddenly a furious
+blush went mounting up into her temples and spread itself down her
+neck. Her visitor thought he had never seen any one blush like that,
+and it somehow struck him that his little plan was swamped. Quite
+right he was, too. Polly blushed to think that she had thought of Dan
+in such a connection for a single instant.
+
+It was very unreasoning, this impulse of rebellious shame: are we not
+admonished to help one another? And what could the helpers do if all
+their benefactions were indignantly thrust back? Very unreasoning
+indeed, but natural!--natural as the colour of her hair and the
+quickness of her wit, natural as all the graces and virtues, all the
+misconceptions and foibles, that went to make up the personality of
+Polly Fitch,--of Polly Fitch, the daughter of Puritan ancestors; men
+and women who could starve, body and mind, but who never had learned
+to accept a charity.
+
+Before the flush had died away, Polly was quite herself again, and
+looked up so brightly and sweetly that Mr. Clapp took heart of hope.
+
+"You do know somebody like that; I'm sure you do!" he said
+insinuatingly.
+
+"I?" said Polly. "I know hardly anybody. But I'm sure the president of
+the college could tell you of a dozen boys who would be grateful for
+help."
+
+And so Mr. Horace Clapp's little plan had come to nought, and he took
+his leave more than ever convinced that it is a very difficult thing
+to spend one's money in a good cause. As he stood a moment, waiting
+for his dog-cart, a boy came down the street with a parcel under his
+arm.
+
+"Say, Mister, do you know whether Daniel Fitch lives here?" he asked.
+
+"Daniel Fitch?" thought Mr. Clapp, as the boy turned in at the gate.
+"Daniel Fitch? Where have I heard that name? Oh, yes, Beatrice said
+there was a brother; runs errands for Jones, the druggist. Plucky
+children! It would be pleasant to give them a lift!"
+
+As for Polly, she had not a twinge of regret. In fact, she rather
+enjoyed dwelling upon the splendour of the opportunity she had thrust
+from her, the better to glory in her escape. And she looked forward
+with entire confidence to the time when she should test Dan's feeling
+on the point.
+
+On Christmas Eve they hung up their stockings, fairly bulging with
+materialised jokes and ideas which the morning was to bring to light,
+and we may be sure that they did not wait for the lazy winter sun to
+put in an appearance before beginning their investigations. Amid
+shouts of merriment the revelations of a remarkably inventive Santa
+Claus were greeted, while Polly held her climbing excitement in check
+until the hour should be ripe for greater things. But when, at last,
+just as the sun was peeping in at the kitchen window, Dan's ferret
+fingers penetrated the extreme toe of his sock, she grew so agitated
+that she quite forgot to make a certain witty observation she had been
+saving up for that particular moment. And so it came about that an
+unwonted silence reigned as the unsuspecting Dan drew forth a small
+flat parcel labelled: "A Merry Christmas from Polly."
+
+Within was their familiar bank-book, wrapped about with a less
+familiar sheet of note-paper bearing the following inscription:
+
+"An Idea! Namely, to wit: That Daniel Reddiman Fitch, Esq., lay aside
+his character of Mercury, and become a student at Colorado College!
+
+"P. S.--An examination of the within balance will assure the said Dan
+that there is nothing to prevent his thus delighting the heart of his
+faithful Polly."
+
+A glance at the balance recorded, a reperusal of the "idea," and the
+impressive silence was broken into a thousand fragments.
+
+"For you see, Dan," Polly explained, when, at last, she had secured a
+hearing, "I shouldn't know what in the world to do with so much
+money,--some rich people don't, they say,--and I've got plenty of
+ideas to last us for years to come. Then, just as they begin to give
+out, you'll have got to be a mining engineer, with your pockets
+cram-full of money, and you'll have to support me for the rest of my
+life. So I don't see but that I'm getting the best of the bargain,
+after all!"
+
+It all seemed perfectly natural to Dan. This sister of his had always
+lent a hand when he needed it. Of course he would accept her help, and
+let the future, the glorious, inexhaustible future straighten out the
+account between them. He did not express himself even in his inmost
+thoughts in any such high-flown manner as this. He simply gave an
+Indian war-whoop, administered to Polly a portentous hug, and declared
+for the hundredth time, "Polly, you _beat the world!_"
+
+When everything was thus amicably settled and Dan had agreed to "give
+notice" in his capacity as Mercury, the following day, Polly said:
+"You won't mind being poor, will you, Dan? You don't wish we were
+rich, do you?"
+
+"Rich? Why, we _are_ rich!"
+
+"But, Dan, if any one came along and offered you a lot of money, say a
+thousand dollars a year, you wouldn't take it, would you?"
+
+"Do you mean a stranger, Polly, some one we hadn't any claim on?"
+
+"Yes; but somebody who had such a lot he wouldn't miss it. Would you
+take it, Dan? Say, would you take it?"
+
+"What a goose you are, Polly! Of course I wouldn't take it! I would
+rather go back to the Augaeans for the rest of my life!"
+
+On the evening of that momentous Christmas Day, our two young people
+had out their Latin books and began industriously to polish up their
+somewhat rusty acquirements in that classic tongue. A year ago they
+might not have regarded this as precisely a holiday pastime, but their
+ideas had undergone a great change since then.
+
+They sat at the little centre-table, the ruddy head and the black one
+close together in the lamp-light, reading their Cicero. A rap at the
+door seemed a rude interruption; yet so unusual was the excitement of
+an evening visitor that they could not be quite indifferent to the
+event,--the less so when the visitor proved to be Polly's client of
+the cumbrous income.
+
+"Good evening, Miss Polly," he called, from the door, and Polly
+fancied that his voice had a particularly cheerful ring in it. As he
+spoke, he glanced at Dan, who had opened the door.
+
+"This is my brother, Dan. Won't you come in, Mr. Clapp?"
+
+"With all the pleasure in the world, for I have come in the character
+of Santa Claus."
+
+"Have you indeed?" thought Polly to herself; "we'll see about that!"
+Perhaps there was something in her manner that betrayed her thoughts,
+for her visitor said, with evident amusement:
+
+"You take alarm too easily, Miss Polly. I should as soon think of
+offering a gift in my own name to,--to any other extremely rich young
+woman."
+
+"I was glad to hear that your brother's name was Dan," he continued
+with apparent irrelevance, as he took his seat. "And more delighted
+still when I found out his middle name. Didn't it strike you," he
+asked, turning abruptly to Dan, "that your employer, Mr. Jones, was
+developing rather a sudden interest in your antecedents?"
+
+"Yes," Polly thought, "he is pleased about something."
+
+"Why, yes," Dan answered, with boyish bluntness. "But what do you know
+about it?"
+
+"Only that it was I that put Jones up to making his inquiries."
+
+"You?" Dan looked half inclined to resent the liberty. But Polly saw
+that there was something coming.
+
+"Would you mind telling us what it's all about?" she asked. "You look
+as if you knew something nice."
+
+"I do; it's one of the nicest things I ever knew in my life. I didn't
+tell you the other day, did I, that I had made most of my money in
+mines?"
+
+"No," said Polly, wondering why he should want to tell them how he
+made "his old money."
+
+"Well, that is the case; nearly all in one mine, too. It's a great
+placer mine up north. I don't suppose you know much about placer
+mines?"
+
+Polly, disclaiming such knowledge, tried to look politely interested,
+while Dan's interest, fortunately for his manners, was very genuine.
+Was he not to be a mining engineer, and did he not want to learn all
+he could?
+
+"Well," Mr. Clapp went on, "a placer mine is one where the gold lies
+embedded in the soil and has to be washed out, and if there doesn't
+happen to be running water near by it costs an awful lot to bring it
+in."
+
+"Yes," said the polite Polly, with a vision of a fire-brigade running
+about with buckets in their hands, as they used to do in Fieldham.
+
+"What they call hydraulic mining," Dan put in.
+
+"Yes, that's it. Big ditches to be dug, and all that sort of thing.
+Well, this 'Big Bonus Mine' was discovered twenty years ago. A company
+was started and the stock was put on the market at a dollar a share.
+The management made a mess of it, as a management usually does, and it
+fizzled out. It was believed that the thing was chock-full of gold,
+but they couldn't get it out."
+
+Polly was beginning to be interested; she usually did find things
+interesting when she gave her mind to them.
+
+"Well, what did they do?" asked Dan.
+
+"They gave it up for a bad job, and tried to forget all the money they
+had put into it."
+
+"Then where did your money come from?"
+
+"Out of the 'Big Bonus Placer Gold Mine!' We scoop it right out
+to-day."
+
+"I wish you'd go ahead!" said Dan, for the guest had paused, and was
+examining the _Cicero_.
+
+"Well, hydraulic mining improves, like every thing else, and three
+years ago a new company was formed. Luckily the old company had not
+gone into debt; perhaps they could not borrow money on their elephant.
+However that may be, they agreed to put half their stock back into the
+treasury, and it was sold at fifty cents a share, which gave us money
+to work with."
+
+"And it was a howling success!" cried Dan. "I remember; I've heard all
+about it."
+
+"Yes, we've paid out two dollars a share in dividends in the last six
+months, and the stock is held at fifteen or sixteen dollars a share
+to-day. The beauty of it is," Mr. Horace Clapp added, glancing quietly
+from Dan to Polly, "I am convinced that you are both stockholders."
+
+"We?" they cried in a breath.
+
+"Yes! For Jones tells me that your father was a doctor; that his name
+was Daniel Reddiman Fitch, and that he once lived in Bington, Ohio."
+
+"Yes," said Polly; "that was when he was first married; before old
+Doctor Royce died, and left an opening in Fieldham, so that Father
+came back home again."
+
+"The name of such a stockholder stands on our books, but we haven't
+heretofore been able to trace him."
+
+"That's why old Jones pumped me so," Dan remarked, giving his mind
+first to the more familiar aspects of the case.
+
+"What a pity he never knew!" said Polly, with glistening eyes. "He was
+always so poor."
+
+"Your father's original holdings were five thousand shares, so that
+you are the possessors of twenty-five hundred shares. If you sell it
+pretty soon, as I think you may as well do, you will have something
+over forty thousand dollars to invest; for there is, in addition to
+the stock, five thousand dollars in back dividends due you."
+
+Dan and Polly looked at each other almost aghast; but that was only
+for a moment.
+
+"Why, Dan, you can have a saddle-horse of your own!" cried Polly.
+
+"And so can you!"
+
+"And we can--O Mr. Clapp, how rude we are!"
+
+Mr. Clapp looked as if it were a kind of rudeness that he was enjoying
+very much. As he rose to go, he said:
+
+"Don't you think I'm a pretty good sort of a Santa Claus after all,
+Miss Polly?"
+
+Polly seized his outstretched hand.
+
+"I didn't believe any one person could be so rich, and so good, too!"
+she declared.
+
+"And, O Dan!" cried Polly, the minute they were alone together, "let's
+send a New-Year's box home. There'll be just time enough. We can get
+one of those great carriage rugs for Uncle Seth, and a China silk for
+Aunt Lucia."
+
+"And I'll send Cousin John's boys some Indian bows and arrows."
+
+"And Cousin Martha a dozen Chinese cups and saucers."
+
+"And the old Professor a meerschaum pipe."
+
+"And Miss Louisa Bailey, and dear Mrs. Dodge, and the Widow
+Criswell,--what _shall_ we send the Widow Criswell, Dan?"
+
+"Some black-bordered pocket-handkerchiefs!" cried the irreverent Dan.
+
+Before going to bed they stepped out on the porch to bid the Peak
+good-night.
+
+"Going to be a fine day to-morrow, Polly."
+
+"All the days are fine in Colorado," said Polly.
+
+"You forget the blizzard last month."
+
+"Oh, but it was _such a dear blizzard_ not to do you any harm when it
+caught you out!"
+
+Dan grew thoughtful.
+
+"Do you ever think, Polly, that we should never have come out here if
+it hadn't been for you?"
+
+"You know it was 'Pike's Peak or bust!' with both of us, Dan."
+
+Dan looked critically from the great Peak, gleaming there in the
+starlight, to Polly's uplifted face, and then, as they turned to go
+in, he exclaimed, for the hundred-and-first time:
+
+"Polly, _you beat the world!_"
+
+
+
+
+NANNIE'S THEATRE PARTY
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+NANNIE'S THEATRE PARTY
+
+
+"Yes, my dear, I went to the the_ett_er myself once when I was quite a
+girl, younger 'n you be, I guess. 'Twas Uncle 'Bijah Lane that took
+me, 'n' he was so upsot by their hevin' a fun'ral all acted out on the
+stage, that he come home and told Ma 'twa'n't no fit place for young
+girls to go to, 'n' I ain't never ben inside a the_ett_er sence. Doos
+seem good to see play-actin' agin after all these years, I declare it
+doos!"--and Miss Becky took up her sewing, which she had laid down in
+a moment of enthusiasm.
+
+"If you liked it half as well as I like to do it, Miss Becky, you'd
+like it even better than you do now," replied Lady Macbeth, with a
+cheerful gusto, somewhat at odds with her tragic character.
+
+Nannie Ray, herself still very new to the delights of theatre-going,
+had recently seen a great actress play Lady Macbeth, and, fired with
+the spirit of emulation, she had been enacting the sleep-walking scene
+for the benefit of her country neighbour. Miss Becky Crawlin lived
+only half a mile down the road from the old Ray homestead, where the
+family were in the habit of spending six months of the year. She and
+Nannie had always been great cronies, Miss Becky finding a perennial
+delight in "that child's goin's on."
+
+The "child" meanwhile had come to be sixteen years old, but no one
+would have given her credit for such dignity who had seen the
+incongruous little figure perched upon the slippery haircloth sofa,
+twinkling with delight at Miss Becky's encomiums. She wore a
+voluminous nightgown, from under the hem of which a pink gingham
+ruffle insisted upon poking itself out; her long black hair hung over
+her shoulders in sufficiently tragic strands; her cheeks, liberally
+powdered with flour, gleamed treacherously pink through a chance
+break in their highly artificial pallor, while portentous brows of
+burnt cork did their best to make terrible a pair of very girlish and
+innocent eyes. A touch of realism which the original Lady Macbeth
+lacked was given by a streak of red crayon which lent a murderous
+significance to the small brown hand.
+
+"I declare!" her admiring auditor went on, stitching away to make up
+for lost time, "I can't see but you do's well's the lady I saw--only
+she was dressed prettier, and went round with a wreath on her head. A
+wreath's always so becomin'! We used to wear 'em May Day, when I was a
+girl. They was made o' paper flowers, all colours, so's you could suit
+your complexion, and when it didn't rain I must say we looked reel
+nice. 'Twas surprisin', though, how quick a few drops o' rain would
+wilt one o' them paper wreaths right down so's you could scurcely tell
+what 'twas meant for."
+
+"Tell me some more about the girl with the wreath, Miss Becky," said
+Lady Macbeth, longing to curl herself up in a corner, but too mindful
+of her tragic dignity to unbend.
+
+"Well, she looked reel pretty, but she didn't hev _sperit_ enough to
+suit my idees. She was kind o' lackadaisical and namby-pamby, 'n' when
+her young man sarsed her she didn't seem to hev nothin' to say for
+herself. I must say 'twas a heathenish kind of a play anyway, 'n' I
+ain't surprised that Uncle 'Bijah got sot agin it. The language wa'n't
+sech as I'd ben brought up to, either."
+
+Lady Macbeth had leaned forward and was clasping her knees, thus
+unconsciously widening the expanse of pink gingham visible beneath the
+white robe. She was glad she had modified her Shakespeare to suit her
+listener, though "Out, _dreadful_ spot!" was not nearly as
+bloodcurdling as the original.
+
+Miss Becky, meanwhile, had not paused in her narration.
+
+"There was a long-winded young man," she was saying, "him that sarsed
+his girl, 'n' he went slashin' round, killin' folks off in a kind of
+an aimless way, an'----"
+
+"It must have been _Hamlet_ that you saw!" cried Nannie, much excited.
+"Oh, I do so want to see _Hamlet_!"
+
+"Yes, _Hamlet_; that was it. And then there was a ghost in it that
+sent the shivers down my back; 'n' a king 'n' queen; 'n' the king
+looked for all the world like Deacon Ember, Jenny Lowe's grandpa, that
+died before you was born; 'n' I declare, I _did_ enjoy it! 'Twas jest
+like bein' alive in history times! Why, I ain't had sech shivers down
+my spine's the ghost give me, sence that day, till I seen you standin'
+there tryin' to wash your hands without any water, 'n' your eyes
+rollin' fit to scare the cat!"
+
+"Would you like to have me do it again for you, Miss Becky?" asked
+Nan, springing to her feet with renewed ardour. And straightway she
+stationed herself at the end of the little room and began propelling
+herself forward with occasional erratic halts.
+
+The September sunshine came slanting through the tiny panes of glass
+at the window, and touched with impartial grace the youthful figure
+of distracted mien, the worsted tidies on the haircloth sofa, and the
+neat alpaca occupant of the stuffed "rocker." Again the sewing was
+forgotten, and Miss Becky's glittering spectacles were fixed upon the
+tragic queen. As the queer little figure stalked solemnly down the
+room, eyes fixed in a glassy stare, hands wringing one another
+distressfully; as a moving wail rent the air, to the effect that "all
+the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand," a most
+agreeable succession of shivers made a highway of Miss Becky's spine.
+
+"Why don't you ever go to the theatre now, Miss Becky?" Nannie asked,
+when, having laid aside her tragic toggery, she came in her own person
+to take her leave. "I should think you'd like to go again."
+
+"Oh, yes, I should be reel tickled to go again, but I ain't got nobody
+to go with, and, well--there's other reasons besides."
+
+[Illustration: "All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little
+hand."]
+
+Nannie blushed to think how inconsiderate she had been to force her
+old friend to allude, even indirectly, to her poverty, and she walked
+up the dusty road to her own gate, filled with compunction. Just
+outside the gate was a little wilderness of goldenrod and asters. She
+thought what a pity it was they should get so gray with dust. Poor
+things, they could not help it; they had to stay where chance had
+planted them unless somebody picked them and carried them away, and
+even then they left their roots behind them. Somehow they made her
+think of Miss Becky, living her little narrow, stationary life all
+alone in the old tumble-down farmhouse. And just at this point in her
+reflections a delightful scheme came into her head.
+
+Now, Nannie was the recipient of a slender monthly allowance intended
+for gloves and ruchings, postage stamps, and the like, and, having
+spent the last four months far from the allurements of city shops, she
+happened at this juncture to be in funds. Her stock of gloves, to be
+sure, was pretty well exhausted, and Christmas was only a few months
+away. But Miss Becky was nearer still, and Nannie had no hesitation
+between the two claims. As a natural consequence it happened that,
+one pleasant day early in October, Miss Becky, in her best black
+bonnet, found herself steaming up to Boston, about to do Nannie "a
+real favour" by chaperoning her to the theatre. Miss Becky was so much
+impressed by the gravity of her responsibility that she hardly took in
+the fact that she was going to the theatre herself!
+
+They were to see _The Shaughraun_--a play which her best friend had
+assured Nannie was "just great"; and as the train rushed up to town
+the young hostess was at a loss to decide whether she was happier on
+her own account or on Miss Becky's. To be sure, she was just a little
+disappointed about Miss Becky, who seemed curiously silent and stiff;
+and when they came out of the station and walked up the crowded city
+street, the old lady held her by the sleeve and looked bewildered and
+frightened.
+
+"How long is it since you've been in Boston?" Nannie asked, looking up
+into the anxious old face framed in the black silk bonnet which
+looked twice as old-fashioned as ever before.
+
+"Not sence Sophia was married 'n' we came up to select her weddin'
+gownd. I was quite a girl then, an' I guess I felt more at home in a
+crowd than I do now. We don't often hev much of a crowd out our way."
+
+They were among the first to take their seats at the theatre. Mr. Ray
+had got places for them only three rows back from the stage, and, once
+established there, Nannie felt that they were in a safe haven, where
+her guest could grow calm and responsive again.
+
+At first Miss Becky was almost too overawed to speak, but after a
+while she got the better of the situation and began telling Nannie all
+about Sophia and her "true-so," and how they got lost on their way to
+the station and almost missed their train, which was the only train
+"out" in old times.
+
+"I do hope we sha'n't miss our train to-night, my dear! It doos seem's
+though we might 'f they don't begin pretty soon," and the old
+lady--for a very old lady she seemed to have become all of a
+sudden--fidgeted in her chair, and looked over her shoulder to see if
+the seats were not filling up.
+
+"We sha'n't lose our train, Miss Becky," Nannie assured her. "You know
+it doesn't go until half-past five o'clock, and the play is always
+over before five. And even if we did miss it we could take the
+seven-fifteen."
+
+"Oh, dear, no! I sh'd feel reel bad to miss the train. Why, it gits
+dark by six o'clock, 'n' 'twouldn't be safe for us to be goin' round
+the city streets after dark. We might git garroted or, or--_spoken
+to!_ Dear me! I _wish_ they would begin!"
+
+"If it gets late, Miss Becky, we won't wait for the end of the play,"
+said Nannie, while a very distinct pang seized her at thought of
+missing anything.
+
+"I think that _would_ be better!" Miss Becky cried, with evident
+relief. "Don't you think it might be better to go out a little early,
+anyway? They'll be such a crowd when everybody tries to go out to
+once that we might git delayed. _My!_ what a sight of people there is
+already! And up in the galleries, too! Ain't you 'most afeared to stay
+in sech a crowd?"
+
+"Oh, no, Miss Becky. It's just like this always, and nothing ever
+happens."
+
+"Them galleries don't look strong enough to hold many people. Why,
+Nannie, see! They ain't any _pillows_ under 'em! What do you suppose
+keeps 'em up?"
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure; but they're safe enough."
+
+At this point the orchestra struck up a popular tune and silence fell
+upon Miss Becky. She sat, stiff and severe, gazing straight before
+her, and when Nannie ventured to make a remark she received only a
+reproving look in reply.
+
+How strange it was, Nannie thought! She had meant to give Miss Becky
+such a treat, and here sat her guest, looking anxious and
+distressed--yes, more anxious and distressed than she looked a year
+ago when her cow died. But then the play had not begun yet, Nannie
+reflected, with a gleam of hope. When the play had once begun, Miss
+Becky would forget all her worries and be as "tickled" as she had
+counted on her being. And when once the curtain had gone up, Nannie at
+least had no more misgivings. Her fancy was instantly taken captive,
+first by the charming young officer and his pretty Irish sweetheart,
+then by the fine old priest, then by Con himself,--dear, droll,
+happy-go-lucky Con, with his picturesque foibles, his bubbling humour,
+and his phenomenal virtues. From the moment of his entry, with
+"Tatters" just not at his heels, Nannie was all smiles and tears.
+
+Miss Becky, meanwhile, sat erect as a ramrod, a look of perplexity
+screwing her wrinkles all out of shape. Her bonnet had got somewhat
+askew from her constant effort to keep an eye on those unsupported
+galleries, and there was a general air of discomfort about her, which
+was the first thing that struck Nannie when, as the curtain fell upon
+the first act, she turned to look at her.
+
+"Aren't you enjoying it, Miss Becky?" she asked, with quick anxiety.
+
+"Oh, yes, I'm hevin' a reel pleasant time. 'T ain't through yet, is
+it?"
+
+"Why, no; it's only just begun. There's lots more! May Colby says that
+Con gets them all out of all their troubles and almost gets killed
+himself!"
+
+"I sh'd think 't would take a long time. Are you sure 't ain't most
+five o'clock?"
+
+"Oh, no; it's only three. See! And my watch is fast, too. Wasn't it
+funny about the letter?"
+
+"Well, I didn't quite understand about that. What made 'em laugh so?"
+
+"Why, that was because he couldn't read, and so he had to make it all
+up out of his head."
+
+"Well!" declared Miss Becky, with strong disapproval, "I don't think
+he'd ought to hev deceived his mother that way; do you?"
+
+This was a poser; but at that moment the orchestra came to the rescue
+with a new tune, and Nannie was spared the necessity of replying.
+
+After that the play became every moment more exciting and the central
+figure more entirely captivating, and even between the acts Nannie
+was preoccupied and unobservant. They had got to the prison scene,
+with all its ingenious intricacies of plot and stage machinery; Con
+had accomplished the rescue, and was scrambling over the rocks, when
+suddenly the sharp report of a rifle rang out, followed by another,
+and then another, in quick succession.
+
+Instantly Nannie felt her arm clutched, and she heard Miss Becky
+saying: "You must come right away, this very minute!"
+
+"Oh, please not, Miss Becky," she implored.
+
+But there was a resolute gleam in Miss Becky's eye.
+
+"Come right along, child," she whispered, hoarsely, "come right along
+with me!"--and poor Nannie, to her consternation and chagrin, found
+herself absolutely obliged to follow.
+
+The whole row of people stood up to let them pass, and every kind of
+look--glances of amusement and curiosity, of annoyance and of
+sympathy--followed the oddly assorted pair, as they made their way
+out of the slip and then up the aisle.
+
+Once outside the door, the tension of Miss Becky's face relaxed, but
+she did not waver in her determination.
+
+"There, child!" she cried, as they walked down the slight incline of
+the long passageway to the street. "There! I am glad I had strength
+given me to do my duty by you!"
+
+"But, Miss Becky, there wasn't a bit of danger," Nannie protested,
+bravely keeping the tears back in her cruel disappointment. "Really,
+there wasn't. Won't you _please_ go back with me, and just stand
+inside the door and see the end of it? I'm sure they'd let us stand
+inside the door."
+
+"Nannie Ray," Miss Becky replied, looking very fiercely at the girl's
+flushed cheeks and imploring eyes, "if you knew as much about firearms
+as I do, you wouldn't ask such a thing. But there! It's jest because
+you're young and inexperienced that your ma wanted me to come and look
+after you. I guess she'll be thankful she was so foresighted when she
+hears of the danger you was in."
+
+In her exultation and relief of mind, Miss Becky marched on,
+regardless of jostling crowds and thronging teams. Her whole attitude
+had changed. She was no longer the timid, shrinking old woman; she was
+the responsible guardian, aware of the importance of her charge, and
+nothing was ever to convince her that she had not as good as saved
+Nannie's life on that occasion.
+
+Then Nannie, as became a hostess, accepted the situation with the best
+grace in the world.
+
+"I tell you what let's do, Miss Becky," she said. "Let's go and get
+some ice-cream. That is, if you like it."
+
+The stern old face relaxed.
+
+"Oh, yes; I like ice-cream, especially vanilla. But--do you think
+we've got time enough?"
+
+"We've got an hour and a quarter before the train goes. Let's come in
+here and get it."
+
+From the crowded street they passed in at the doorway and walked
+between marble counters to what seemed to Miss Becky a scene in
+fairyland. Ascending two or three broad steps, on each side of which
+an antlered stag kept guard, they stepped upon a great carpeted space,
+lighted from above,--a space in the middle of which was a fountain,
+springing high into the air, and splashing back into a round basin
+lined with shining shells and pebbles, over and among which goldfish
+swam and dove like animated jewels. Ferns and palms grew all about the
+basin, and in among the greenery was a little table where Nannie and
+her guest sat hidden safe away from the world.
+
+"Well, this doos beat all!" the old lady exclaimed, gazing at the
+fountain with an expression of rapt delight--just the expression that
+Nannie had counted upon seeing among the wrinkles.
+
+"Do you like it?" she asked, all her disappointment and chagrin
+forgotten.
+
+"Like it? Why, it's the most tasty place I was ever in! It's better
+than any play; it's like bein' in a play yourself! Jest see them
+pillows supportin' that gallery! 'N' them picters of tropical fruits!
+'N' this ice-cream! Why, it's different from what we hev at the
+Sunday-school picnics! 'Pears to me it's more creamy!"
+
+Now, at last, Miss Becky had lost all thought of the passage of time.
+She took her ice-cream, just a little at a time, off the tip-end of
+her spoon, and with every mouthful the look of content grew deeper.
+One of the little cakes that were served with the ice-cream was a
+macaroon with a sugar swan upon it--"a reel little statoo of a swan,"
+Miss Becky called it. She could not be persuaded to eat it, but she
+studied it with such undisguised admiration that Nannie ventured to
+suggest that she take it home with her. Again Miss Becky was
+enchanted. She wrapped it in her pocket-handkerchief, and placed it
+carefully in her reticule, whence it was to emerge only to enter upon
+a long and admired career as a parlour ornament.
+
+"And now, Miss Becky," Nannie queried, as they sat there embowered in
+palms and ferns, listening to the plash of the fountain, "didn't you
+enjoy the play at all?"
+
+"Oh, yes," said Miss Becky, "I had a very pleasant time before they
+got so reckless with their guns. But--I wonder whether they take sech
+pains with the the-etter's they used to? Why, when I went with Uncle
+'Bijah Lane that time, they all wore the most beautiful clothes. Even
+the men was dressed out in velvets and satins, and they wa'n't anybody
+on the stage that didn't make a good appearance."
+
+"But, you know, this was a different sort of play, Miss Becky. The
+folks in _The Shaughraun_ weren't kings and queens, but just every-day
+people."
+
+"Well, s'posin' they was! I don't see no excuse for that man Con goin'
+round lookin' so slack. I sh'd think he might at least git a whole
+coat to wear when he 'pears before the public!"
+
+"I'm afraid you're sorry you came," said Nannie, very meekly, feeling
+quite ashamed of her poor little party.
+
+"Oh, no, I ain't! Why, child, I'd hev come _barefoot_ to see this
+place here, with the founting a-splashin' and the fishes a-gleamin'!
+_Barefoot_, I tell ye!"
+
+It was a forcible expression, yet Nannie was not quite reassured. She
+still demurred.
+
+"But the play was the principal thing, you know."
+
+"The play? Well, I don't know," said Miss Becky, thoughtfully. "I
+don't know's I'm so terrible sot on the the_ett_er's I thought for.
+I'd a good deal ruther hev you come over 'n do that sleep-walkin'
+piece for me. I don't want nothin' better'n that. 'F I can see you act
+that once in a while, 'n' hev this here Garding of Eden to think
+about,--a founting playin' right in the house, 'n' all,--I ain't
+likely to want for amusement."
+
+The best bonnet was still very much askew, but the pleasant old face
+within, whose wrinkles had resumed their accustomed grooves, was
+irradiated with a look of unmistakable beatitude; and somehow it was
+borne in upon Nannie that her theatre party had been a success after
+all.
+
+
+
+
+OLIVIA'S SUN-DIAL
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+OLIVIA'S SUN-DIAL
+
+
+"It's all we need to make it the prettiest garden in Dunbridge."
+
+"Hm! And why must we have the prettiest garden in Dunbridge?"
+
+"Why shouldn't we?"
+
+Here was a deadlock--a thing quite shockingly out of place in a
+garden, and one's own particular garden at that!
+
+Olivia Page could make almost anything grow, as she had abundantly
+proved, but even her garden-craft could hardly suffice for the setting
+of a sun-dial on a pedestal of snow-white marble over there where the
+four triangular rose-beds converged to a circle, and where the south
+sun would play on it all day long.
+
+For a year Olivia had dreamed of this, and, since she was not a
+churlishly reticent young person, it was not the first intimation her
+father had received of her desire. Not until to-day, however, had she
+asked outright for what she wanted.
+
+"I wish you would say something more," she remarked, glancing sidewise
+at the professor's deeply corrugated countenance, which, for all their
+intimacy, was sometimes difficult to decipher. She had heard of girls
+who could twist their parents round their fingers; she wondered how
+they did it.
+
+The two were sitting on the white half-circle of a bench that stood at
+the west boundary of the old tennis-court, just where one end of the
+net used to be staked up. Excepting for that break, three sides of the
+garden were fenced in by the high wire screen originally designed to
+keep the tennis balls within bounds, and now doing duty as a trellis
+over which a luxuriant woodbine clambered, waving its reddening
+tendrils in the light September breeze. Wide flowerbeds bordered the
+entire court, the central turf being broken only by the cluster of
+rose-beds at the further end. From the white bench one looked across
+the grass to a broad flight of veranda steps, flanked on the right by
+a mass of white boltonia, while on the left a superb growth of New
+England asters reared their sturdy heads.
+
+The garden had been a great success this year, quite the admiration of
+the neighbourhood. Really, Papa must be proud of it, and it was all
+Olivia's doing. Who would ever guess that it had had its modest
+beginnings in half a dozen tin cracker-boxes with holes bored in the
+bottoms, where, in March, two years ago, she had planted queer little
+brown seeds as hard as pebbles, which Nature had straightway taken in
+hand, softening and expanding them down there in the dark, till they
+came alive, and began feeling their way up to meet the sun. Ah, the
+bliss of seeing those first tiny shoots turn into stems and leaflets,
+ready to play their part in the great spring awakening! Would Olivia
+ever love any flowers quite as she had loved those first seedlings,
+especially a certain pentstemon, which blossomed "white with purple
+spots," exactly as the seed-catalogue had promised?
+
+Yes, the garden was a great success, and just now it was at one of its
+prettiest moments, gay with autumn colours; the rudbeckia in its
+glory, and the great pink blossoms of the hibiscus spreading their
+skirts for all the world like ladies in an old-time minuet, while over
+yonder the soldier spikes of the flame-flower threatened to set the
+woodbine afire. Olivia loved the Latin names, but somehow "tritonia"
+did not seem to express those spikes of burning colour. And the roses!
+How lovely those late hybrids were! Why, the way that Margaret Dickson
+drooped her head above the pansies, still blooming freely at her feet,
+was enough to melt the heart of a Salem gibraltar! A pity that the
+professor's attention seemed for the moment to be riveted upon the toe
+of his boot!
+
+"I wish you would say something more," Olivia repeated.
+
+"Something different, you mean," and Doctor Page smiled, benignly and
+stubbornly.
+
+"For instance, you might tell me why you are opposed to it."
+
+"You wouldn't understand."
+
+"I might; you said, only the other day, that I sometimes displayed
+almost human intelligence!"
+
+The professor liked to have his jokes remembered; but still he seemed
+inclined to temporise.
+
+"I might say that we couldn't afford it. It is generally conceded that
+Alma Mater is not a munificent provider."
+
+"Yes; and you might say that my great-grandfather was not an East
+India trader--only you don't tell fibs."
+
+"Or that a sun-dial is an anachronism."
+
+"You are too good a Latin scholar for that."
+
+"So a subterfuge won't do? Very well; then you'll have to put up with
+a psychological proposition."
+
+"How interesting!"
+
+The professor glanced at the expectant young face turned toward him,
+and he could not but admit that his estimate of its owner's
+intelligence had been well within the truth.
+
+"You think a sun-dial would make it the prettiest garden in
+Dunbridge?"
+
+"I'm sure it would."
+
+"And that is what you are aiming at?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Now, I have noticed that when you have got what you are aiming at you
+lose interest in it."
+
+"O Papa!"
+
+"There was tennis," he went on, marking off the list on a combative
+forefinger, "and cookery; there was the Polyglot Club, and the
+Sketching Club, and----"
+
+"But, Papa! They were every one of them good things, and I got a lot
+out of them; truly, I did."
+
+"No doubt; but as soon as you could play tennis, or sketch a pine
+tree, or toss an omelette a little better than the other girls, you
+had squeezed your orange dry."
+
+"But, Papa! I've stuck to gardening for more than two years!" Olivia's
+tone seemed to give those years the dignity of centuries.
+
+"True; but you haven't got your sun-dial. You will consider that the
+finishing touch, and then before we know it you will be wanting to
+turn the whole thing into a sand-garden for the little micks at the
+Corners."
+
+"Not such a bad idea," Olivia admitted unguardedly.
+
+"There you are! The mere mention of a new scheme is enough to set you
+agog!"
+
+But this was not their first fencing match, and Olivia had learned to
+parry.
+
+"I thought you believed in people being open-minded," she ventured
+demurely.
+
+"And so I do; but not so open-minded that for every new idea that
+comes in an old one goes out."
+
+"Oh, the sun-dial hasn't got away yet," she laughed, springing to her
+feet and going over to the court-end of the garden, where she placed
+herself in the exact centre of the converging rose-beds.
+
+"There!" she cried; "don't you see how my white gown lights up the
+whole place? It's just the high light that it needs."
+
+And so it was: a fact of which no one was better aware than the
+professor. As he, too, rose and sauntered toward the house he could
+not deny that Olivia's ideas were usually good. The only trouble was
+that she had too many of them; and here was the kernel of truth that
+gave substance to his whimsical argument. The beauty of the garden was
+not lost upon him, nor yet the skill and industry of the young
+gardener. But more important than either was the advantage to the
+girl's health. Olivia was sound as a nut; of course she was! There
+could be no doubt of that. But--so had her mother seemed, until that
+fatal winter ten years ago. He did not fear for Olivia; why should he?
+Only--well, this out-of-door life was a capital thing for anybody. No,
+he could not have her tire of her garden.
+
+At the foot of the veranda steps Dr. Page paused and glanced again at
+his daughter. She had left the rose-beds and was already intent upon
+her work, pulling seeds from the hollyhocks over yonder. She made a
+pretty picture in her white gown, standing shoulder-high among the
+brown stalks, her slender fingers deftly gleaning from such as showed
+no rust. The child was really very persistent about her gardening; she
+had fairly earned an indulgence. Perhaps, after all, she might be
+trusted. He moved a few steps toward her.
+
+"Olivia," he said,--and the first word betrayed his relenting,--"Olivia,
+your sun-dial scheme is not such a bad idea. I should rather like that
+white-petticoat effect myself. Supposing we say that if between now and
+next June you don't think of anything you want more, we'll have it."
+
+"Oh, you blessed angel! What could I want more?"
+
+"Time will show," the blessed angel replied, retracing his steps
+toward the house--unaided by angelic wings!
+
+"Yes," Olivia called confidently. "It's the sun-dial that time will
+show, and afterward--why, the sun-dial will show the time!"--and
+although he made no sign, she knew there were little puckers of
+amused approval about her father's mouth.
+
+As if she could ever want anything more than a sun-dial! she thought,
+while she passed along the borders, harvesting her little crop. She
+had finished with the hollyhocks, and now she was bending over a bed
+of withered columbines. And there were the foxglove seeds still
+clinging. Really, it was almost impossible to keep up. How brilliant
+the salvia was to-day, and what a brave second blossoming that was of
+the delphinium, its knightly spurs, metallic blue, gleaming in the
+sun!
+
+"No," she declared to herself, "there will never be anything so much
+worth while as the garden. Why, of course there won't; because Nature
+is the best thing in the world--the very best."
+
+"Plase, ma'am, will ye gimme a bowkay?"
+
+Olivia turned, startled by a voice so near at hand, for she had heard
+no footfall on the thick turf. There, in the centre of the grass-grown
+space, stood two comical little midgets, their smutty yet cherubic
+faces blooming brightly above garments highly coloured and earthy,
+too, as the autumn garden-beds.
+
+[Illustration: "Please ma'am, will ye gimme a bowkay?"]
+
+"Dear me!" Olivia laughed, "how things do sprout in a garden! Did you
+come right up out of the ground?"
+
+"Plase, ma'am, a bowkay! Me mudder's sick an' me fader's goned away."
+
+The speaker, a boy of five, stood holding by the hand something in the
+way of a sister, about two sizes smaller. At Olivia's little joke,
+which they did not in the least understand, they had both grinned
+sympathetically, showing rows of diminutive teeth as white and even as
+snow-berries.
+
+"Bless your little hearts, of course you shall have a bouquet! Come
+and choose one,"--and taking a hand of each Olivia led them slowly
+along the brilliant borders.
+
+They were a bit shy at first, but they soon picked up their courage,
+and Patsy fell to accumulating a mass of incongruous blossoms whose
+colours fought each other tooth and nail. Little Biddy, more modest,
+as beseemed her inferior rank in the scale of being, fixed her heart
+upon a single flame-flower which absolutely refused to reconcile
+itself with the ingenuous pink of her calico frock.
+
+"How long has your mother been ill?" Olivia asked of the boy, who by
+this time was quite hidden behind a perfect forest of asters and
+larkspur and lobelia cardinalis.
+
+"Me mudder's always sick. She coughs an' coughs, and den she lays on
+de bed long whiles."
+
+"And she likes flowers?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am; me an' Biddy picked a bowkay outen a ashba'l oncet, an'
+me mudder sticked it in a tumbler an' loved it. Come, Biddy, make de
+lady a bow!" Upon which the small Chesterfield stood off a few steps
+and gave an absurd little bob of a bow which Biddy gravely endeavoured
+to imitate.
+
+"I think I'll go with you," said Olivia, open-minded as ever to a new
+interest; and hand in hand and chattering amicably, the three moved
+across the turf and down the long gravel walk to the dusty street.
+Surprising how short the distance was between the sweet seclusion of
+the old tennis-court and the squalid quarter where these little human
+blossoms grew!
+
+Olivia was thinking of that as she stood on the veranda an hour later,
+looking down upon the flowery kingdom to which all her interest and
+ambition had been pledged. Yes, it was lovely, lovely in the long
+afternoon light, and it would have been lovelier still with the
+gleaming marble she had dreamed of. She really tried to keep her mind
+upon it, to forget the little drama over there in the stuffy tenement.
+But no; she was too good a gardener for that. Was not a whole family
+broken and wilting for lack of means to transplant it?
+
+The doctor had ordered Mrs. O'Trannon to Colorado, and Mike had
+dropped his work as "finisher"--whatever that might be--and had gone
+out to prepare the way for the others to follow. He had found no
+chance to work at his trade, but he had got a job on a ranch, where
+the pay was small, but the living good. A fine place it would be for
+the invalid and the children, when once he could get together the
+money to send for them. But meanwhile here they were, and the winter
+coming on.
+
+As Olivia stood looking down upon her beloved garden, she could not
+seem to see anything but brown stalks and dead blossoms. All that
+lavish colour looked fictitious and transitory; she had somehow lost
+faith in it.
+
+Mrs. O'Trannon had been pleased with the flowers; she had grown up on
+a farm, she said. Sure she never'd ha' got sick at all if she'd ha'
+stayed where she belonged. But then, where would Mike have been, and
+the babies? And where would Mike be, and the babies, Olivia thought
+with a pang,--where would they be if the mother wilted and died? She
+turned, suddenly, and passed in at the glass doors and on to her
+father's study.
+
+At sight of the kind, quizzical face lifted at her entrance, Olivia
+winced a bit. About an hour and a half it must be, since he said it,
+and he had given her a year! As if that made any difference! she told
+herself, with a little defiant movement of the chin, as she crossed
+the room and seated herself at the opposite side of the big
+writing-table where she could face the music handsomely.
+
+"Well, Olivia; changed your mind yet?" the professor inquired, struck,
+perhaps, by the resolution of her aspect.
+
+"Yes," she answered, in an impressive tone, "I've thought of something
+I should prefer to a sun-dial."
+
+Dr. Page took off his glasses and laid them upon his open book. He did
+not really imagine that she was serious--such a turn-about-face was
+too precipitate even for Olivia; but it pleased him to meet her on her
+own ground.
+
+"And what is it this time? A sixty-inch telescope? Or a diamond
+tiara?"
+
+"Well, no. Those are things I had not thought of--before! It's a kind
+of gardening project--a little matter of transplanting."
+
+"Will it cost a hundred and fifty dollars?"
+
+"About that, I should think, to do it properly and comfortably.
+And--it can't wait till June. It's the kind of transplanting that has
+to be done in the autumn."
+
+Then, dropping the little fiction, and resting her chin upon her
+folded hands, the better to transfix her father's mocking
+countenance,--"Papa," she said, "there's a poor family down at the
+Corners,--our neighbours, you know,--and the mother is dying for want
+of transplanting, just like the beautiful hydrangea--you
+remember?--that I didn't understand about till it was too late. I
+never knew what too late meant, till I saw that splendid great bush
+lying stone-dead on the ground when we came home from the Adirondacks
+last year. A great healthy hydrangea dying just for lack of the right
+kind of soil! And now, here is this good human woman, that might live
+out her life and bring up her little family, and be happy and useful
+for years to come. Such a nice woman she must be to name her babies
+Patsy and Biddy, when she might have called them Algernon and
+Celestina, you know, and just spoiled it all!--and such a nice, kind
+husband to take care of her on a big ranch where there's good air,
+and lots to eat, and plenty of work and not too much, and--why Papa!
+they might have a garden out there! who knows? What a thing that would
+be for the prairie! A real New England garden!"
+
+"With a sun-dial?" the professor interposed.
+
+For an instant Olivia's face fell, but only for an instant.
+
+"I've been thinking," she said, with a very convincing seriousness,
+"that perhaps a sun-dial is not so important, after all. At any rate
+it's not so important as the mother of a family; now, is it, Papa?"
+
+"That depends upon the point of view," the professor opined. "As a
+high light among the rose-bushes I should be constrained to give my
+vote for the sun-dial."
+
+Olivia sprang to her feet.
+
+"That means that you are coming straight over with me to see Mrs.
+O'Trannon," she cried, "and that you are going to have the whole
+family packed off to Colorado quicker'n a wink! Come along, please!
+There's plenty of time before dinner!"
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+"It's just another of Nature's miracles!" Olivia observed, as she and
+her father stood one morning in late October watching the workmen pack
+the sods about the beautiful pedestal, now securely planted upon its
+base of cement and broken stone. "It always makes me think of the
+wonderful things that came up in those tin cracker-boxes you used to
+make such fun of. There really doesn't seem to be any place too
+unlikely for Nature to set things going in."
+
+The marble was but roughly hewn, in lines that held the suggestion of
+an hourglass. The top only was smoothly finished, while here and there
+on the curving sides the hint of a leaf, a blossom, a trailing vine,
+came and went with the point of view, like cloud-pictures or the
+pencillings of Jack Frost. It was as if a 'prentice-hand had tried to
+express the soul of an artist, too self-distrustful to work more
+boldly.
+
+"Funny, how things come into your head," Olivia went on. "Do you know,
+Papa, that day when I was helping Mrs. O'Trannon with her preposterous
+packing and suddenly came upon this miracle hidden away under an old
+bedquilt, the only thing I could think of was the way my first
+pentstemons came out, 'white with purple spots,' exactly as I had
+chosen them by the seed-catalogue. And to think that she had bought it
+for a dollar of that poor stone-cutter's widow that was moving
+out--bought it to make pastry on because the top was smooth and cold!
+And then had never had time to make but one pie in the three years! I
+wish you could have heard her tell about it. 'Faith, it cost me a
+dollar, me one pie did, an' Mike says it's lucky it was that I didn't
+make a dozen whin they come so high! Silly b'y, that Mike!' O Papa,
+isn't it heavenly that they're together again?"
+
+"So you think there is nothing Nature can't do?" Dr. Page mused, with
+apparent irrelevance. "How about the sun-dial itself?"
+
+"Oh, Nature will attend to that, too."
+
+"She will, will she? And in what particular tin cracker-box should you
+look for it to come up?"
+
+"It wouldn't be polite to say," Olivia declared, looking with
+unmistakable significance straight into her father's face.
+
+"Saucebox!" he chuckled.
+
+And when, in early June, the brass disk of the sun-dial had begun its
+record of happy hours, and still Olivia toiled with unabated zeal at
+her garden, the rose of health blooming ever brighter in her face, a
+great sense of satisfaction and approval took possession of her
+father's mind. But he only remarked, in a casual manner, as they sat
+together on the white bench one fragrant sunset hour:
+
+"After all, I'm not sure but Nature's biggest miracle has been
+performed in the saucebox."
+
+And Olivia, smiling softly, answered: "I told you, you know, that
+there isn't any place too unlikely for Nature to set things going
+in!"
+
+
+
+
+BAGGING A GRANDFATHER
+
+
+"I'll warrant that 'he, she, or it' will come! Di usually bags her
+game!"
+
+The speaker, Mr. Thomas Crosby, must have had implicit faith in his
+daughter's prowess to venture such a confident assertion as that, for
+he was quite in the dark as to who "he, she, or it" might be.
+
+It was a cozy November evening, when open fires and friendly
+drop-lights are in order, and the three grown-folks of the family were
+enjoying these luxuries. Mr. Crosby was supposed to be reading his
+paper, but he had a sociable way of letting fall an occasional item of
+interest, or of letting fall the paper itself, at the first hint of
+interest in the remarks of his wife and daughter.
+
+Only within a very short time had there been three grown-folks in the
+family, unless, indeed, we count Rollo, the Gordon setter, who had
+attained his majority years ago. Di, who was but just turned sixteen,
+really did not like to remember how very recently she had been sent to
+bed at eight o'clock!
+
+Could Mr. Crosby have guessed the scheme which was occupying the
+active brain of the young person engaged in embroidering harmless
+bachelor's buttons upon a linen centrepiece, he would have been very
+much astonished,--whether pleasurably or otherwise, events alone must
+show. And since events had been taken in hand by Di the revelation was
+not likely to be long delayed.
+
+The incident which had elicited her father's declaration of confidence
+was a request on Di's part to be allowed the privilege of inviting a
+guest of her own choosing to the Thanksgiving dinner. The family party
+was to be materially reduced this year, for Mrs. Crosby's mother and
+sister, their only available relatives, were at that moment sojourning
+in Rome, where, if they were sufficiently mindful of current maxims
+to do as the Romans do, they were very unlikely to meet with any
+satisfactory combination of turkey and plum-pudding. It was with that
+fact in view, that Di felt a fair degree of assurance in preferring
+her request. They all liked each other, of course, better than they
+liked anybody else, but, really, one must do something a little out of
+the common on Thanksgiving day.
+
+"Certainly," Di's mother had agreed; "you shall invite any one you
+choose. I have been wishing we could think of some one to ask, but
+people all have their own family parties on Thanksgiving day. Is it to
+be one of your girl friends?"
+
+"That is my secret," Di had replied, sedately; "but, whoever it is,
+he, she, or it is a very important personage, and will have to be
+treated with great consideration!"
+
+"And how is that very _un_important personage, Di Crosby, going to get
+hold of so great a dignitary?" Mrs. Crosby had laughingly inquired. At
+which juncture Mr. Crosby had expressed his belief that Di would bag
+her game.
+
+That the prospective dinner should be incomplete was all the harder,
+considering the fact that the Crosbys were, by good rights, the
+possessors of that most desired ornament of such an occasion,--a _bona
+fide_ grandfather. Not only was old Mr. Crosby living, and in
+excellent health, but his residence was not above a dozen blocks
+removed from his son's house. And yet no grandfather had ever graced
+their Thanksgiving feast.
+
+Family quarrels are an unpleasant subject at the best, and since Di
+herself had never learned the precise cause of the long estrangement
+between father and son, in which the old gentleman had decreed that
+his son's wife and children should share, it is hardly worth while to
+recount it here. Suffice it to say, that it was a very old quarrel
+indeed, older than Di herself, and one to which Mr. and Mrs. Crosby
+never alluded.
+
+It was six years ago, when Di, the eldest of the children, was ten
+years of age, that she had come home from school one day, breathless
+with excitement.
+
+"Mamma!" she cried, bursting into the room where her mother was
+changing the baby's frock: "Mamma! Have I got a grandfather?"
+
+Mrs. Crosby glanced furtively at the round eyes of the baby, and took
+the precaution of smothering him in billows of white lawn before
+replying, rather softly: "Yes, dear; Papa's father is living. Why do
+you ask?"
+
+"I saw him to-day."
+
+"You saw him? Where?"
+
+"On the street."
+
+"How did you know it was he?"
+
+"Sallie Watson asked me why I didn't bow to my grandfather."
+
+"And what did you say?"
+
+"I said: 'Never you mind!' And then I ran home all the way, as tight
+as ever I could run! Mamma, why don't we ever see him?"
+
+The baby's head was just emerging from temporary eclipse, and Mrs.
+Crosby's voice dropped still lower, as she answered:
+
+"Because, dear, _he doesn't wish it_."
+
+There was something so gently conclusive in this answer that little Di
+was silenced. Yet the look in her mother's face had not escaped her; a
+wistful, hurt look, such as the child had never seen there before. And
+in her own mind Di asked many questions.
+
+What did it all mean? How did it happen that her grandfather did not
+wish it? Why was he so different from other girls' grandfathers? There
+must be something very wrong somewhere, but where was it? Since it
+could not possibly be with her father or mother, it must be that her
+grandfather was himself at fault.
+
+The object of Di's perplexities, Mr. Horatio Crosby, lived all alone
+in a very good house, and was in the habit of driving about in a very
+pretty victoria; people bowed to him, people who were friends of Di's
+father and mother, and must therefore be creditable acquaintances. All
+this she soon discovered, for, having once come to know her
+grandfather by sight, she seemed to be constantly crossing his path.
+
+Little by little, as she grew older, Di picked up certain stray bits
+of information, but she never tried to piece them together. She felt
+that she would a little rather not know any more. A quarrel there had
+certainly been, some time in the dark ages before she was born, and
+the old man had proved himself obstinate and implacable. Friendly
+overtures had been made from time to time, but he had set his face
+against all such advances, and now, for many, many years,--as many as
+three or four, little Di had gathered,--the friendly overtures had
+ceased.
+
+One gets used to things, and Di got used to having a grandfather who
+did not know her by sight. She was sure he did not know her, because
+once, when she was twelve years old, he had stopped her on the street
+to tell her that she had dropped her pocket-handkerchief. It had been
+very polite of the old gentleman, and she had been glad not to lose
+her handkerchief. Yet, as she thanked him, she gave him one searching
+look, and she told herself that he had a very cross expression, as
+well as a very harsh voice.
+
+This uncomplimentary verdict was largely due to the fact that, at this
+period, Di had quite made up her mind that her grandfather was a
+hateful, unreasonable old despot, and that it served him right never
+to come to the family parties, nor to have any Christmas presents, nor
+to have seen the baby, which Mamma said was the prettiest of all her
+babies, and which Di considered the most enchanting object on the face
+of the earth.
+
+But again many years had passed,--four, in this instance,--and there
+came a time, only a few weeks previous to the opening of our story,
+when Di found herself constrained to modify her view of her
+grandfather.
+
+It happened that she had gone with her drawing teacher, Miss Downs, to
+an exhibition of paintings. Among the pictures was a very striking one
+entitled _Le Grandpere_. It represented an old French peasant, just
+stopping off work for the day, with a flock of grandchildren clinging
+about his knees. Miss Downs called Di's attention to the wonderful
+reach of upland meadow, and the exquisite effect of the sunset light
+on the face of the old man; but, to Di, the meadow and the sunset
+light were unimportant accessories to the central idea. It was the
+grandfather himself that commanded all her attention,--the look of
+blissful indulgence on the old man's face; his attitude of protecting
+affection towards one young girl in particular, on whose head the
+toil-stained hand rested.
+
+"Yes," she said, after several minutes of rapt contemplation: "Yes;
+the sunset is very nice, and the fields; but, oh, the old man is such
+a darling!"
+
+As she spoke she turned to see how her teacher took her remark, and
+found herself face to face, not with Miss Downs, but with her own
+grandfather! She gave a little gasp of surprise, which he appeared not
+to notice.
+
+"So you think him a darling, do you?" he asked, and somehow his voice
+did not sound quite as harsh as it had done four years ago.
+
+Miss Downs had passed on, and there was no one standing near them, no
+one at all in the gallery who shared Di's knowledge of the strange
+situation. She felt sure that the old man had no suspicion of her
+identity.
+
+"Yes, I do," she answered boldly.
+
+"What makes a darling of him?" the old gentleman inquired.
+
+Di felt that this was her opportunity, and that she was letting it
+slip. But she could not help herself, and she only answered rather
+lamely:
+
+"Oh, nothing, except that he is _such a good grandfather!_" Upon which
+she beat a hasty retreat, and fled to the protection of Miss Downs,
+whom she found in an adjoining room.
+
+It was perhaps twenty minutes later that Di and her teacher passed the
+picture again, and, behold, there was the old gentleman standing, lost
+in thought, exactly on the spot where she had left him. He did not
+seem to be looking at the picture, but Di felt certain that he was
+thinking of it. And, suddenly, it passed through her mind like a flash
+that he was sorry.
+
+"Yes; he's sorry," she said to herself. "He's sorry, and he doesn't
+know how to say so!"
+
+The more she thought of it in the days that followed,--and she seemed
+to be thinking pretty much all the time of the old man and the look on
+his face as he stood before the picture,--the more convinced she
+became that he was sorry and did not know how to say so.
+
+"And he ought not to have to say so," she told herself. "He's an old,
+old man, and he ought not to have to say that he is sorry."
+
+The old, old man--aged sixty-five--might have taken exception to that
+part of her proposition touching his extreme antiquity, but we may be
+pretty sure that he would have cordially endorsed her opinion that the
+dignity of his years forbade his saying that he was sorry.
+
+In those days Di used to walk often past her grandfather's house. It
+was a very big house for a single occupant. Even the stout footman,
+whom she had once seen at the door, did not seem stout enough, nor
+numerous enough to relieve the big house of its vacancy. There were
+heavy woollen draperies in the parlor windows, but not a hint of the
+pretty white muslin which a woman would have had up in no time. Once
+she passed the house just at dusk, after the lights were lighted.
+Through the long windows she looked into the empty room. Not so much
+as a cat or a dog was awaiting the master. In the swift glance with
+which she swept the interior she noted that the fireplace was boarded
+in. That seemed to Di indescribably dreary. Perhaps her grandfather
+did not sit here; perhaps he had a library somewhere, like their own.
+But, no; there was the portly footman entering with the evening paper,
+which he laid upon the table before coming to close the shutters.
+
+"He's too old to say he is sorry," Di said to herself, as she turned
+dejectedly away; "a great deal too old--and lonely--and dreary!"
+
+And it was on that very evening that she made her little petition to
+her mother, and that her father declared that Di was sure to bag her
+game.
+
+Old Mr. Crosby, meanwhile, was too well-used to his empty house and to
+his boarded-in fireplace to mind them very much, too unaccustomed to
+muslin curtains to miss them. Yet he had not been on very good terms
+with himself for the past few weeks, and that was something which he
+did mind particularly.
+
+The result of his long cogitation in front of the grandfather picture
+had been highly uncomplimentary to the artist. He pronounced the
+homespun subject unworthy of artistic treatment, and he told himself
+that it merited just that order of criticism which it had received at
+the hands of the young person with the rather pretty turn of
+countenance, who had regarded it with such enthusiasm. Nevertheless,
+he did not forget the picture,--nor yet the young person!
+
+It was the afternoon of Thanksgiving day, and there was a light fall
+of snow outside. He remembered that in old times there used always to
+be a lot of snow on Thanksgiving day. Things were very different in
+old times. He wondered what would have been thought of a man fifty
+years ago,--or seventeen years ago, for the matter of that,--who was
+giving his servants a holiday and dining at the club. As if those
+foreign servants had any concern in the Yankee festival! But then,
+what concern had he, Horatio Crosby, in it nowadays? What had he to be
+thankful for? Whom had he to be thankful with? He was very lucky to
+have a club to go to! He might as well go now, though it was still two
+or three hours to dinner time. He would ring for his overcoat and
+snow-shoes.
+
+His hand was on the bell-rope--for Mr. Horatio Crosby was
+old-fashioned, and had never yet admitted an electric button to his
+domain.
+
+At that moment the door opened softly--what was Burns thinking of, not
+to knock?--and there stood, not Burns, not Nora, but a slender
+apparition in petticoats, with a dash of snow on hat and jacket, and a
+dash of daring in a pair of very bright eyes.
+
+"Good afternoon, Grandfather," was the apparition's cheerful greeting,
+and involuntarily the old gentleman found himself replying with a
+"Good afternoon" of his own.
+
+The apparition moved swiftly forward, and, before he knew what he was
+about, an unmistakable kiss had got itself applied to his countenance
+and--more amazing still--he was strongly of the impression that there
+had been--no robbery!
+
+Greatly agitated by so unusual an experience, he only managed to say:
+"So you are----?"
+
+"Yes; I am Di Crosby,--your granddaughter, you know, and--this is
+Thanksgiving day!"
+
+"You don't say so!" and the old man gazed down at her in growing
+trepidation.
+
+"Let's sit down," Di suggested, feeling that she gained every point
+that her adversary lost. "This must be your chair. And I'll sit here.
+There! Isn't this cozy?"
+
+"Oh, very!"
+
+The master of the house had sufficiently recovered himself to put on
+his spectacles, the use of which was affording him much satisfaction.
+He really did not know that the young girl of the day was so pretty!
+
+"I don't suppose you smoke a pipe," Di remarked, in a strictly
+conversational tone.
+
+"Well, no; I can't say I do. Why?"
+
+"I only thought I should like to light one for you. You know," she
+added, confidentially, "girls always light their grandfathers' pipes
+in books. And I've had so little practice in that sort of thing!"
+
+"In pipes?"
+
+"No--in grandfathers!"
+
+There came a pause, occupied, on Di's part, by a swift, not altogether
+approving survey of the stiff, high-studded room. This time it was the
+old gentleman who broke the silence.
+
+[Illustration: "'Good afternoon, Grandfather,' was the apparition's
+cheerful greeting."]
+
+"I believe you are the young lady who admired that old clodhopper in
+the picture," he remarked.
+
+"Oh, yes; he was a great darling!"
+
+"He wasn't very handsome."
+
+"No, but--there is always something so dear about a grandfather!"
+
+"Always?"
+
+"Yes; always!" and suddenly Di left her seat, and, taking a few steps
+forward, she dropped on her knees before him.
+
+"Grandfather," she said, clasping her small gloved hands on his knee,
+"Grandfather!"
+
+She was meaning to be very eloquent indeed,--that is, if it were to
+become necessary. She did not dream that that one word, so
+persuasively spoken, was more eloquent than a whole oration.
+
+"Well, Miss Di?"
+
+"Grandfather, I've a great favour to ask of you, and I should like to
+have you say 'yes' beforehand!"
+
+He looked down upon her with a heart rendered surprisingly soft by
+that first word,--and a mind much tickled by the audacity of the rest
+of it.
+
+"And are you in the habit of getting favours granted in the dark?" he
+inquired.
+
+"Papa says I usually bag my game!"
+
+Now old Mr. Crosby had been a sportsman in his day, and he was
+mightily pleased with the little jest. But he only asked:
+
+"And what's your game in this instance, if you please?"
+
+"You!"
+
+"Oh, I! And you want to bag me? Bag me for what?"
+
+"For dinner!"
+
+"Oh, for dinner!"
+
+"Yes! We are all by ourselves to-day, and you'll just make the table
+even. There's only Papa and Mamma, and Louise, and Beth, and Alice,
+and the baby." Somehow the succession of sweet, soft names sounded
+very attractive to the crabbed old man.
+
+"The baby is six years old," Di continued, unconsciously adding
+another touch to the attractiveness of the picture.
+
+"And what is her name?"
+
+"_His_ name is Horatio. I never liked it very well; it seemed too long
+for a baby. But, do you know?--I think I shall like it better now."
+
+She was still kneeling before him, with her small gloved hands clasped
+on his knee. It was clear that she had not the faintest idea of being
+refused. Yet even had she been somewhat less confident, she might well
+have taken heart of hope, for, at this point, he gently laid his
+wrinkled hand upon hers.
+
+"You _will_ come to dinner?" she begged, apparently quite unconscious
+of the little caress. "We dine at five on Thanksgiving day, and you
+and I can walk over together. They will all be so surprised,--and so
+happy!"
+
+"Then they are not expecting me?" and the old man gave her a very
+piercing look, which did not seem to pierce at all.
+
+"No; they didn't know who it was to be. I only said it was a very
+important personage."
+
+"Coming in a bag!" he suggested.
+
+"Oh, that's only a sportsman's expression!"
+
+"Indeed! And is it customary nowadays to go a-hunting for your
+Thanksgiving dinner?"
+
+Di's eyes danced. This was indeed a grandfather worth waiting for! But
+she only answered demurely:
+
+"That depends upon your quarry!"
+
+Lucky Di, to have hit upon that pretty, old-fashioned word! She had,
+indeed, read her Sir Walter to good purpose.
+
+Now, Mr. Horatio Crosby had held out stoutly against every appeal of
+natural affection, of reason, of conscience. He was not a
+quick-tempered man like his son; he was not, like his daughter-in-law,
+easily rebuffed; but there was about him a toughness of fibre which
+yielded neither to blows nor to pressure, and which, for many years,
+neither friend nor foe had penetrated. And here was this young thing
+simply ignoring the hitherto impenetrable barrier! The clear young
+eyes looked straight through it, the fresh young voice made nothing of
+it, the playful fancies overleapt it. A quarry, indeed! Where had the
+child got hold of the word?
+
+Of a sudden the old man bent forward and lightly touched the laughing
+face in token of surrender.
+
+"It's an old bird you've winged, little girl," he said, as he rose to
+his feet and stepped once more to the bell-rope; and this time he
+really rang for his coat and overshoes.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+"And so you've named this little chap Horatio?"
+
+Dinner was over,--a very pleasant, natural kind of dinner, too, in
+spite of the difficulty some of the family had found in eating
+it,--and they were all gathered about a roaring woodfire, fortifying
+themselves, with the aid of coffee, cigars, and chocolate-drops,--each
+according to his kind,--for a game of blind-man's-buff. The small
+scion of the house was seated on his grandfather's knee, playing with
+his grandfather's fob, after the immemorial habit of small scions.
+
+"Of course we named him Horatio!" It was Mrs. Crosby who answered,
+and, as her father-in-law looked across at her face with the
+firelight playing upon it, he seemed to remember that he had always
+wished for a daughter.
+
+"And what do you call him for short?"
+
+"Just Horatio!" piped up little Alice, who was sitting on the rug at
+the old gentleman's feet, gently pulling Rollo's long-suffering ears.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Thomas Crosby; "we have always been proud of the
+name."
+
+Then Di, perceiving a slight unsteadiness in the voice in which this
+was said, stepped behind her grandfather's chair, and, dropping a
+small kiss on the top of his head, looked across at her father, and
+exclaimed:
+
+"Oh, Papa! To think of our having bagged a grandfather!"
+
+
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+A Selection from the Catalogue of
+
+G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+Complete Catalogue sent on application
+
+
+
+
+BY ANNA FULLER
+
+A LITERARY COURTSHIP
+
+Under the Auspices of Pike's Peak. 28th thousand. Illustrated.
+Sextodecimo, gilt top. $1.25
+
+"A delightful little love story. Like her other books it is bright
+and breezy; its humor is crisp, and the general idea decidedly
+original."--Boston Times.
+
+A VENETIAN JUNE
+
+Illustrated by George Sloane. 15th thousand. Sextodecimo, gilt top
+$1.25
+
+"Full of the picturesqueness, the novelty, the beauty of life in the
+city of gondolas and gondoliers."--Literary World.
+
+Handsome Holiday Edition, Illustrated by Frederick Simpson Coburn.
+Octavo, $3.00
+
+PRATT PORTRAITS
+
+Sketched in a New England Suburb. 12th thousand. Illustrated by
+George Sloane. Duodecimo, gilt top $1.25
+
+"The lines the author cuts in her vignette are sharp and clear, but she
+has, too, not alone the knack of color, but what is rarer, the gift of
+humor."--New York Times.
+
+ONE OF THE PILGRIMS
+
+A Bank Story. 6th thousand. Duodecimo, gilt top, $1.25
+
+"The story is graceful and delightful, full of vivacity, and is not
+without pathos. It is thoroughly interesting."--Congregationalist.
+
+G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+New York--London
+
+
+
+
+BY ANNA FULLER
+
+PEAK AND PRAIRIE
+From a Colorado Sketch Book.
+Duodecimo. Illustrated. 7th thousand $1.50
+
+"The stories are as varied as our Colorado wild-flowers, and through
+each one, whether grave or gay, runs a wholesome cheeriness and moral
+uplift which leaves the reader not only happier but better."--Colorado
+Springs Evening Telegraph.
+
+KATHERINE DAY
+Duodecimo. 8th thousand $1.50
+
+"A love story of the first water. The heroine is a woman's woman, and
+the hero is a man's man.... The spirit of 'Katherine Day' is very
+gallant, very humorously tender. The lightest passages, like the
+gravest, are sane and true."--Louise Imogen Guiney in The Critic.
+
+A BOOKFUL OF GIRLS
+Duodecimo. 4th thousand. With 6 Full-Page Illustrations $1.50
+
+This book is filled to the brim with happy school-girls, and overflowing
+with innocent mischief and fun. Madge and Patty, Blythe and Olivia, are
+at that "betwixt and between" age when the great questions are how
+high up the hair should go, and just how much boot-top should be left
+below the skirt.
+
+LATER PRATT PORTRAITS
+With 8 Full-Page Illustrations by Maud Tousey Faugel
+net $1.25
+
+The author's style is unaffected and charming; her humor is subtle and
+delightful; her characters are sharply drawn, and their stories told
+with fidelity and sympathy.
+
+G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+New York--London
+
+
+
+
+The Thunderhead Lady
+By Anna Fuller and Brian Read
+With about 40 Line Drawings. $1.00 net. By mail, $1.10
+
+"Wanted: By a Harvard Graduate, a permanent position as husband.
+Carefully trained by an anxious mother, and used to feminine
+domination."
+
+So begins a clipping from the Boston Herald, written in jest, and
+printed from bravado, which elicits a reply from a chance reader and
+results in the correspondence that forms the substance of this little
+skit. From mock seriousness the writers drift off into more or less
+casual chat upon books and people, illumined from time to time with a
+touch of romance. The whole forms a bit of light reading which should
+appeal in equal measure to the thoughtful and the frivolous.
+
+New York--G. P. Putnam's Sons London
+
+
+
+
+By the Author of
+
+"Aunt Olive in Bohemia," "The Notch in the Stick," etc.
+
+The Peacock Feather By Leslie Moore
+$1.35 net. By mail, $1.50
+
+In a moment of reminiscent detachment the wearer of the Peacock
+feather describes himself as "one whom Fate in one of her freakish
+moods had wedded to the roads, the highways and hedges, the fields
+and woods. Once Cupid had touched him with his wing--the merest flick
+of a feather. The man--poor fool!--fancied himself wounded. Later
+when he looked for the scar, he found there was none." And so he
+wandered.
+
+Here is a rare love story, that breathes of the open spaces and is
+filled with the lure of the road.
+
+G. P. Putnam's Sons
+New York--London
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BOOKFUL OF GIRLS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 28538.txt or 28538.zip *******
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