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padding-top: 1px } + + .coverpage, .titlepage, + .contents, .foreword, .preface, .introduction, .dedication, .prologue, + .epilogue, .appendix, .glossary, .bibliography, .index, .colophon, + .footnotes, + .cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 1px } + + .vfill { margin-top: 20% } + h2.title { margin-top: 20% } +} +</style> +<style type="text/css"> +.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; } +.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } +.toc-pageref { float: right } +pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 35593 ***</div> +<div class="document" id="jane-lends-a-hand"> +<h1 class="document-title level-1 pfirst title">Jane Lends A Hand</h1> +</div> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<div class="container" id="pg-produced-by"> +<p class="noindent pfirst">Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at <a class="reference external" href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>.</p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="center line-block noindent"> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> +<span class="x-large"> +Jane Lends A Hand</span></div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> +BY</div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> +<span class="larger"> +Shirley Watkins</span></div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> +<em class="italics">Author of “Nancy of Paradise Cottage,”</em></div> +<div class="line"> +<em class="italics">and “Georgina Finds Herself”</em></div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> +The GOLDSMITH Publishing Co.</div> +<div class="line"> +CHICAGO ILL.</div> +<div class="line"> +MADE IN USA</div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> +<span class="small-caps"> +Copyright 1923, by</span></div> +<div class="line"> +<span class="small-caps"> +George W. Jacobs & Company</span></div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> +All rights reserved</div> +<div class="line"> +PRINTED IN U.S.A.</div> +</div> +<div class="contents level-2 section" id="id1"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title">Contents</h2> +<ul class="simple toc-list"> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-iaffairs-of-the-lambert-family" id="id2">CHAPTER I—AFFAIRS OF THE LAMBERT FAMILY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-iibusybody-jane" id="id3">CHAPTER II—BUSYBODY JANE</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-iiicivic-interest" id="id4">CHAPTER III—CIVIC INTEREST</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-ivthe-appearance-of-paul" id="id5">CHAPTER IV—THE APPEARANCE OF PAUL</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-vpaul-hesitates" id="id6">CHAPTER V—PAUL HESITATES</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-via-rebel-in-the-house" id="id7">CHAPTER VI—A REBEL IN THE HOUSE</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-viigirls" id="id8">CHAPTER VII—GIRLS</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-viiijane-lends-a-hand" id="id9">CHAPTER VIII—JANE LENDS A HAND</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-ixthe-best-laid-plans" id="id10">CHAPTER IX—“THE BEST LAID PLANS—”</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xpaul-and-carl" id="id11">CHAPTER X—PAUL AND CARL</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xicarl-squares-his-debt" id="id12">CHAPTER XI—CARL SQUARES HIS DEBT</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xiijeff-roberts" id="id13">CHAPTER XII—JEFF ROBERTS</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xiiidisaster" id="id14">CHAPTER XIII—DISASTER</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xivthe-crossroads" id="id15">CHAPTER XIV—THE CROSSROADS</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xvan-unsuspected-hero" id="id16">CHAPTER XV—AN UNSUSPECTED HERO</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xvia-family-matter" id="id17">CHAPTER XVI—A FAMILY MATTER</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xviian-honor-to-the-family" id="id18">CHAPTER XVII—AN HONOR TO THE FAMILY</a></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#chapter-xviiithe-wanderer-comes-home" id="id19">CHAPTER XVIII—THE WANDERER COMES HOME</a></li> +</ul> +</div> +<div class="center line-block noindent"> +<div class="line"> +––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––</div> +<div class="line"> + </div> +<div class="line"> +<span class="x-large"> +JANE LENDS A HAND</span></div> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iaffairs-of-the-lambert-family"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id2">CHAPTER I—AFFAIRS OF THE LAMBERT FAMILY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">At six o’clock Jane had awakened, and, lifting +her tousled head from her pillow, sniffed the +frosty air.</p> +<p class="pnext">The red sunlight of an October morning was +sending its first ruddy beams into the bare little +room, but notwithstanding this sign that the morning +was advancing, and the fact that all the children +had had their first summons to get up and +dress, Jane, this lazy Jane, merely burrowed down +deeper into her warm nest, and buried her round +nose in the patchwork quilt.</p> +<p class="pnext">She had a strong disinclination to leaving her +cosy bed, and braving the penetrating chill of an +autumn morning. Owing to Mr. Lambert’s +Spartan ideas on the up-bringing of children, the +little bed-rooms under the irregular roof of the +old house were never heated until the bitterest days +of mid-winter. <em class="italics">His</em> children were not, said he, to +be softened and rendered unfit to endure the various +hardships of life by pampering. His wife, the +jolly comfort-loving Gertrude, sometimes confided +privately to Grandmother Winkler that she thought +it was too hard on the children to have to leave +their warm beds, and dress in rooms where the ice +formed a film in the water pitchers, and in which +they could see their breath; but when anyone in the +Lambert household had ideas contrary to those of +the master, they did not advertise them publicly.</p> +<p class="pnext">Among Mr. Lambert’s pet aversions were Unpunctuality +and Laziness, and no one had better +reason to know this than Jane. Nevertheless, she +infringed upon the iron-bound rules of the household +every day of her life, and cheerfully paid her +penalties with a sort of serene stoicism. She had +inherited from her placid, happy-tempered mother +a vigorous dislike of physical discomfort, and a +calm way of doing what she wanted, and then +good-naturedly paying the piper as circumstances +demanded.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the adjoining room, the twins, Wilhelmine +(or Minie) and Lottie could be heard chattering +and laughing in their fresh, sweet voices. Shivering, +but rosy and wide-awake, the two little girls +were dressed in their warm woolen frocks inside +of ten minutes. Since they were six years old, Mr. +Lambert had permitted no one to help them but +themselves; and so, with their little cold red +fingers they buttoned each other’s dress and plaited +each other’s smooth, shining yellow hair; then set +to work making up their wooden beds, sweeping, +dusting, and putting their room to rights.</p> +<!-- File: 006.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">At half-past six came the summons to breakfast, +which had already been announced by appetizing +odors of porridge and frying bacon.</p> +<p class="pnext">Little Minie, running past her sister’s door, +glanced in, and stood transfixed with horror at the +sight of Jane rolled up like a dormouse, and still +dozing peacefully.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, <em class="italics">Ja-ane</em>!”</p> +<p class="pnext">A head covered with curly, reddish hair rose +above the mountain of bed-clothes; a pair of +sleepy eyes blinked at the little girl.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Um.” A yawn. “What time is it?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s <em class="italics">half-past thix</em>, and breakfath’s all ready, +and you’ll be late <em class="italics">again</em>, Jane. Whatever will +Papa thay!” This was Lottie, who never failed +to join her twin on any occasion of grave importance. +The two plump, rosy-cheeked little girls, +with their stiffly starched white pinafores, and +with their yellow pig-tails sticking out at the sides +of their heads, were as much alike as a pair of +Dresden ornaments. They stood now, hand-in-hand, +their china-blue eyes round with reproof +and dismay, gazing at lazy Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ve got a—a headache,” announced Jane unblushingly, +“I don’t think I’ll go to school to-day.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“O-oh, Jane!” remonstrated the twins in chorus.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I haven’t exactly got one <em class="italics">now</em>,” said +Jane, “but I would have if I got up too suddenly. +I’ve been studying too hard. That’s what.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ooooh, Jane!” The twins covered their rosy +mouths with their hands, and tittered.</p> +<!-- File: 007.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“You don’t know anything about it,” said Jane, +tartly. She reflected for a moment. On second +thought the plea of a headache seemed weak; +furthermore, if it were accepted the chances that +Mr. Lambert would recommend a bitter dose and +a dull day in the house had to be considered; for +the stern parent had a certain grim humour of his +own, and was not easily to be imposed on even by +Jane’s fertile invention.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, then put down the windows, Minie—like +a good little darling, and I’ll be down-stairs in +three minutes. The day after to-morrow’s Saturday +anyhow.” And encouraged by this cheerful +thought, Jane at length prepared to rise.</p> +<p class="pnext">Her idea of “three minutes” was astonishingly +inaccurate. She dawdled into her clothes, interrupted +by fits of abstraction, during which, with +one foot on the chair, and the button-hook thrust +through the button-holes of her sturdy shoes, she +stared out of the uncurtained window.</p> +<p class="pnext">The old house, a rambling two storey building, +half-wood, half-brick, abounding in gables and +dormer windows which gave it its quaintly picturesque +outline, fronted on the busiest street of the +industrious but placid little town.</p> +<p class="pnext">For more than a hundred years the Winkler +family had held there a certain calm, unassailable +position; rightly theirs as the unfailing reward of +industry, honesty, and the other simple, respectable +virtues of conscientious, self-respecting citizens +and tradesfolk.</p> +<!-- File: 008.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">One hundred and thirty years ago, to be exact, +old Johann Winkler had settled there, and had +founded what deserves the name of an Institution. +Certainly, it was the most wonderful bakeshop in +the world.</p> +<p class="pnext">Now, no one but a true Winkler had ever been +intrusted with the precious recipes for those spiced +fruit cookies, or those rich snow-cakes, those +golden breakfast-rolls, or those plum-puddings +which have immortalized the name. And in view +of the importance which such a family must have +in the eyes of all who respect supremely excellent +baking, a short history of its affairs may be admitted +here.</p> +<p class="pnext">It is hardly necessary to say that it prospered +for no Winkler had ever been born lacking the +virtue of wise thriftiness, or the ability to make +small savings bring in generous increase. At the +same time, the shop was never moved from the +spot where it had first been opened, nor was any +attempt ever made to give it a more pretentious +appearance.</p> +<p class="pnext">The corner stone which old Johann Winkler +had laid himself with so much pride bore the date, +“A.D. 1789.”</p> +<p class="pnext">A good many generations of little Winklers had +grown up in the shelter of the quaint old house; +and a good many generations of little townspeople +had stuffed their round stomachs with those incomparable +spice-cakes and ginger-nuts, had loitered +hungrily around the tempting show-window, +and had scrawled caricatures on the walls and the +worn stone steps.</p> +<p class="pnext">The business had been inherited in a direct line +from father to son; until the day when Uncle +Franz Winkler had gone to sea, and left his +domestic patrimony in the hands of his sister.</p> +<p class="pnext">This sister was no other than the jolly Gertrude, +once the prettiest, most blooming maiden in +Frederickstown; who, in the course of time married +one Peter Carl Lambert, a grave, practical-minded +young man; and this grave, practical-minded +young man (who, as the years went on +became more and more grave, not to say, severe, +and more and more practical) was no other +than the father of all the young Lamberts, a portion +of whose history is going to be the subject of +this story.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert was, himself, the owner of a moderately +prosperous business, dealing in the whole-sale +and retail distribution of hay and grain; but +at the some time he had no inclination to allow his +wife’s inheritance to decline, and while he managed +his own affairs, Gertrude and Grandmother Winkler +continued in charge of the bakery, which under +his shrewd supervision became more flourishing +than ever.</p> +<p class="pnext">On one point and only one did husband and wife +find cause for dissension. It had become a tradition +in the family, as has already been said, that +no one but a Winkler had ever possessed the magical +recipes for those cakes and pies which had no +rivals. Now, since the outrageous and even impious +conduct of Uncle Franz, the question had +risen, who should be regarded as the heir to the +business and the name? For there were no more +Winklers. Gertrude wanted her only son, Carl, to +be her heir, although he was a Lambert. But Mr. +Lambert had other ideas for the youth, and the +hope that his son would, by becoming a professional +man, take a step up in the world, was dear +to his heart. Furthermore, Carl himself, a calm, +phlegmatic and determined boy, shared his father’s +views. He had announced his intention of becoming +a lawyer.</p> +<p class="pnext">So matters stood. There seemed to be no solution +to the problem. But these family difficulties +had no place in Jane’s mind as she took her time +to wash and dress on that October morning. +What engrossed <em class="italics">her</em> thoughts was the concocting +of a feasible plan to avoid the distasteful prospect +of going to school.</p> +<p class="pnext">The sun had fully risen now, and already the +frosty air had been softened by its genial warmth. +She opened her window again, and leaned out, +looking critically from east to west with the gaze +of an old seaman, calculating the possibilities of +the weather.</p> +<p class="pnext">There was not a cloud in the sky. Never before, +it seemed to her, had the heavens displayed +such a vast expanse of deep, untroubled blue. A +light, fresh wind rustled through the hazel-nut +tree whose boughs touched her window; and sent a +few of the ruddy, copper-colored leaves drifting +lazily down to the uneven brick pavement below.</p> +<p class="pnext">Across the square, she could see the broad, +open door of Mr. Lambert’s warehouse, where already +two men in blue shirts were at work tossing +a fresh wagon-load of corn husks into the well-filled +loft. Early to bed and early to rise was the +motto of the industrious folk of Frederickstown, +one and all. Wagons covered with white canvas +hoods, and filled with tobacco, others, overflowing +with pumpkins, celery, apples and cranberries—all +the rich autumn produce of the fertile farming +country beyond the town—were rumbling over the +cobblestones in a picturesque procession, on their +way to the market-place. And the well-known +smell of the rimy vegetables was to the adventuresome +Jane an almost irresistible call to the open.</p> +<p class="pnext">Her meditations were soon cut short by a final +summons—and this in the firm cold tones of Mr. +Lambert himself—to breakfast.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Jane! Coming? Or must I fetch you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Jiminy!” said Jane, and banging down the +window she fled, clattering down the old wooden +staircase like a whirlwind.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the large, sunny room, which served nearly +all purposes, the family had gathered for breakfast; +Granny Winkler at one end of the table—a +miniature old lady with a frilled cap,—Mr. Lambert +at the other end, Carl at his right and flaxen +haired Elise at his left, Mrs. Lambert with one +twin beside her and another facing her. Jane’s +chair, between Elise and Lottie was still conspicuously +empty.</p> +<p class="pnext">A door at the right of the dining room opened +into the bakeshop, and a second door at the back +led to the kitchen, from which the exquisite odors +of the day’s outlay of fresh cakes and bread were +already issuing. The big, bright room, with its +casement windows opening onto the small garden +hemmed in by high brick walls, with its pots of +geraniums, and Chinese lilies,—which were Elise’s +special care—its immaculately dusted cupboards on +whose shelves gleamed rows of solid old German +pewter ware, was the scene in which the Lambert’s, +great and small, carried on a large part +of their daily affairs. In one corner stood Mr. +Lambert’s squat, business-like desk, where every +evening, from nine to ten, he went over his accounts. +At the round table in the center, the family +ate their meals, and at night, the children prepared +their lessons, while Grandmother Winkler, +seated in her padded rocking chair, read her Bible, +or nodded over her knitting.</p> +<p class="pnext">When Jane made her unceremonious entry, the +family was seated, and, with their heads bent +reverently over their plates of steaming porridge, +were reciting grace in unison.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Lambert, glancing up, made her a sign to +take her place as inconspicuously as possible; and +accordingly just before Mr. Lambert raised his +head, she slipped into her chair.</p> +<p class="pnext">Her father eyed her for a moment with uncertainty and +displeasure; but this morning he had +another matter on his mind of greater importance +than that of reprimanding incorrigible Jane. +Moreover, he had made it a rule, always, if possible, +to avoid unpleasantness at meals, owing to +the unfavorable effects upon the digestion. Consequently, +after a brief, cold stare at his daughter, +whose shining morning face was as bland as if her +conscience were completely innocent of guilt, he +said, solemnly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good morning, Jane.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And Jane said, beaming at him, “Good morning, +Papa,” and rose to kiss his cheek, and then to +give her mother a hug that left the plump, smiling, +dimpling Gertrude quite breathless.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sit down now, you bad child,” whispered Mrs. +Lambert, patting Jane’s ruddy cheek, “and don’t +talk. Your father is going to.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The family sat silent and expectant, while Mr. +Lambert gravely salted his porridge, then fumbled +for his steel-rimmed spectacles in the pocket of his +coat, fitted them on his high-bridged nose, and at +length cleared his throat.</p> +<p class="pnext">By this time Jane, whose curiosity was of the +most irrepressible variety, had all but broken her +neck by craning and wriggling in her chair to see +the letter which lay beside her father’s plate. It +bore a foreign stamp, and she guessed, and guessed +rightly that it had some bearing on Mr. Lambert’s +gravity of demeanor. Finally, unable to endure +her father’s pompous preparations for speech any +longer she pointed to the envelope, and inquired +timidly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Who’s that from, Papa?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That is none of your affair, Jane,” said Carl, +with perfect truth, but in his unfortunately superior +and reproving way, “and you are very ill-mannered.”</p> +<p class="pnext">He spoke with his characteristically priggish air, +with a pomposity ludicrously like his father’s, and +doubly ludicrous in a lad of barely sixteen.</p> +<p class="pnext">Carl, who was Mr. Lambert’s darling, was at +that time a tall, thin, delicate looking boy, with a +long pale face, straight brown hair, which was cut +in a bang across his forehead, and a pair of nearsighted, +light grey eyes, that blinked owlishly behind +the thick lenses of his spectacles.</p> +<p class="pnext">It is true that his character was as nearly faultless +as it is possible for any youth’s character to +be; he was quiet, studious, and dutiful. At school +he shone as by far the best of all the pupils, and +at home he was never known to disobey a single +rule of the household. Intelligent beyond the average, +with a precocious love of accuracy; astonishingly, +even irritatingly self-controlled, and with a +dry judicial quickness and keenness already strongly +developed, he was an unusually promising boy, in +whom one already saw the successful, complacent, +cool-tempered man. But at the same time he +neither cared for, nor could boast of great popularity. +His mother felt more awe than affection for +him; in all of his sisters but Jane, he inspired only +a sort of timid admiration and respect; and his +school-companions summed him up tersely as a +“muff” and a “grind.” For, while he walked away +with the highest honors at the close of every session, +he was, if the truth must be told, something +of a coward. He had moods of sulkiness, and +moods of maddening superiority. His brain was +nimble enough, but he had never been known to +accept any challenge to match his physical strength +and courage with theirs. He professed a deep +contempt for their primitive and barbaric methods +of settling difficulties, and adroitly evaded the outcome +of any schoolboy’s discussion that seemed +likely to end in mortal combat, by yielding his +point with a self-contained, contemptuous politeness, +and a premature diplomacy which mystified +and enraged his companions.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane only was not to be dominated by his assumption +of patronizing authority; and at his unsolicited +correction, she promptly bristled up. It +rarely took much to rouse the fiery, impulsive Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Mind your <em class="italics">own</em> business!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">Jane</em>!” Mr. Lambert turned to her, his spectacles +glistening warningly. There was a moment’s +silence.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you wish to leave the table?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, Papa, but—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Very well, then. Have the goodness to be +quiet.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, Papa. But—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Silence, ma’am! Your brother was quite right. +He is older than you, and he had good reason to +reprimand you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane meekly subsided; but when her father had +withdrawn his gaze, she refreshed herself by making +a most hideous grimace at her brother, who, +more complacent than ever, retaliated with a look +of icy and withering scorn.</p> +<p class="pnext">By this time, Mr. Lambert had almost finished +a second reading of the letter, while his wife +scanned his face anxiously, not daring to urge him +to share its news with her. It covered three or +four pages of cheap paper, and was written in a +great, sprawling script that consumed one sheet in +six or seven lines.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It looks as if it were written by a <em class="italics">sailor</em>,” +murmured Jane, without lifting her eyes, and +seemingly speaking to herself; and in the same +dreamy undertone, she explained this singular observation, +“Everything about a sailor is sort of +loose and blowy; they’ve got blowy coats, and +blowy neckties, and blowy trousers—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You’ve never seen a sailor,” said Carl also in +a low tone, “so you don’t know what you’re talking +about.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I <em class="italics">do</em> know what I’m talking about,” returned +Jane, “I wrote a story about a sailor once, and I +could see him inside of my head just as plainly as +anything. He had red hair, and a fuzzy wart on +his cheek, like a caterpillar, and his name was +Moses Thomson—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, wife, after all there is no choice left us,” +said Mr. Lambert laying down the letter. “Without +a doubt, this will be a burden, a heavy responsibility; +but I hope I am not deficient in generosity. +I think no one can accuse me of that. I am prepared +to do my duty in this matter as in all others.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But—but what does the letter say, Peter?” +asked Mrs. Lambert timidly. “I haven’t seen it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“This letter is from your brother—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. From Franz. I recognized his hand +after all these years—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Your poor brother. Far be it from me to +judge him. I have nothing to say about him. A +shiftless idler, a hair-brained, irresponsible ne’er-do-well +comes to no good end, and leaves better +folk to take up his burdens. But it is not for <em class="italics">us</em> +to judge. I have nothing to say about him—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Peter! My poor brother—my poor Franz!” +cried Mrs. Lambert, greatly agitated, “what are +you saying?” She stretched out her hand to take +the letter, and, in her concern, half-rose from her +chair.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I will read you his letter, my dear,” said Mr. +Lambert. “Try to control yourself.” He looked +at her calmly and firmly, and she sat down again, +with tears welling up in her soft, beautiful eyes.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert cleared his throat, and read:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<p class="pfirst">“Dear brother and Honored Sir; I hope this finds +you and my good, dear mother, and my dear sister, +Gertrude, and all your dear little ones in good health. +I am not in good health. I am thinking that my time +is about up although not an old man, just forty-two +which is the Prime of life. The doctor, who is a good +fellow, thinks it is about up with me but I have got a lot +out of life and have no complaints to make. But I +would ask you a favor, and hope that you will see +your way to granting me this, seeing that I am a dying +man and have no one to turn to and being in a +forran country. My son, Paul, will soon be left +alone, I fear, which is a bad thing for a young lad and +I am hoping that perhaps being kinsfolk and he being +a likely young fellow, good hearted though a bit unlicked, +you may find your way to giving him a home +until he can shift for himself. I haven’t done all I +should have done by the lad, perhaps, living a kind +of touch and go life, and I am hoping that you may find +your way to letting him get some education which I +think a valuable thing for a man, though having no +great love of letters myself. This is a great favor I +am asking I know but I trust you may find it in your +heart to do me this favor and the boy will not forget +it. The boy will work for you also and do as +you say. He is sixteen years old now, and an orphan +my wife being dead these ten years or so.</p> +<p class="pnext">“My dear brother, I beg you to forget me and my +failings, which have been many and show your kindness +to my poor boy. And now I will close with respectful +regards to yourself and give my love to my +dear old mother and to my dear sister and all her +sweet children who must be big youngsters now.</p> +<div class="line-block noindent right"> +<div class="line"> +“Respectfully your brother,</div> +<div class="line"> +“Franz Winkler.</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">“P. S. Am not letting on to the boy what the doctor +says as he will take it hard and I can’t bear that. Have +just told him that I am sending him back to America +with a friend, Mr. Morse, and that I will join him +as soon as I am in better shape, and have told him +how to find you.”</p> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">A silence followed the reading of this letter, and +the emotions that it had roused among the members +of the little family, were plainly to be seen +in their faces. The twins who had not been able +to understand it but who felt that it had brought +some grave news, looked first at their father and +then at their mother. Carl watched Mr. Lambert, +and Elise’s plump, rosy face was solemn; but Jane, +as if she were pierced by an understanding of the +pathos that was magnified by the very clumsy illiterateness +of the letter, sat perfectly still; her +vivid face contracted with a look of genuine +pain.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Lambert was weeping. Then, suddenly, +old Grandmother Winkler, who had not said a +word, got up, took her son’s letter out of Mr. +Lambert’s hand, and leaning on her cane, went out +of the room.</p> +<p class="pnext">The astonishment and awkwardness depicted in +Mr. Lambert’s face showed that he had not guessed +that the letter would produce such an effect.</p> +<p class="pnext">After a moment or two, he cleared his throat, +and said in a gentle but somewhat unctuous tone +to his wife:</p> +<p class="pnext">“My dear, we must not be impatient under our +afflictions. This is very sad; but it is the will of +heaven, and we should learn to endure our sorrows—er—uncomplainingly. +Furthermore, Providence +has seen fit to soften this blow by—er—that +is after all, you have not seen Franz in ten years or +more.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, Peter. Of course,” answered Mrs. Lambert, +meekly wiping her eyes on her napkin. “But +when I think of poor Franz—all alone—and the +boy—that poor child—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Of course my dear, your brother may have +deceived himself. Come, he may be on the road to +health at this moment. Let us hope for the best. +Let us prepare to welcome our nephew, and perhaps,—who +knows, Franz himself may be spared +to us.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Lambert’s face brightened. She was naturally +optimistic, and eagerly grasped this ray of +hope. Moreover, while she had been very fond of +her brother, in years of absence his features had +somewhat faded from her memory. She was not +fond of sorrow or melancholy, and was ready to +exchange grief for hope, and tears for sanguine +smiles the moment she saw a possibility of the +future setting her fears at nothing.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, yes. What you say is quite true, Peter. +After all Franz may recover completely.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Certainly,” said Mr. Lambert, briskly. “And +now my dear, let us consider.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is Paul our cousin, Papa?” asked Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert ignored her question.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I feel great sympathy for the boy,” he said to +his wife. “It is hard indeed to lose a father at his +tender age. For after all, to whom can one turn +for such disinterested guidance? Who will have +his welfare more deeply at heart? I hope my son, +that in comparing <em class="italics">your</em> lot,” he turned to Carl, +“with that of this unfortunate young man, you +will realize your blessings. And I hope, nay, I +believe that in me, this orphaned youth will find +one who in every way will strive to fill in his life +a place worthy of the revered name of ‘father.’ ”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Then,” continued Jane, who had been following +up her own train of thought, “then Paul is a +Winkler. And so he can go into the business when +he is a man.”</p> +<p class="pnext">This simple observation, which had not yet +occurred to anyone, called forth looks of surprise.</p> +<p class="pnext">“That is quite true!” exclaimed Mr. Lambert.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But of course!” cried his wife.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I see the beneficent hand of Providence in this,” +said Mr. Lambert, who was fond of thinking that +Heaven had his domestic affairs very much in +mind. “Yes, we must prepare to welcome our +nephew. I hope, my dear, that he will not prove +difficult to manage. I hope that he is not lacking +in a grateful heart.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Poor child. No father or mother, and so +young,” murmured Mrs. Lambert, her eyes again +filling with tears. “And I never even knew that +Franz had a child. I had forgotten even that he +had married.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yon can put a cot in Carl’s room,” suggested +Mr. Lambert; “I presume that the boy will arrive +in a day or two. And now, children, it is a quarter +past seven.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Everyone rose from the table, and the day’s +routine began again in its accustomed groove. Mr. +Lambert departed for the warehouse. Elise helped +the fat young servant girl to clear away the dishes; +Carl went out to bring in wood for the stove; even +the twins had their household tasks which had to +be finished before they started to school at eight +o’clock.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Jane went off to find her Grandmother. +Behind the counter, in the bakeshop, the old woman +was sitting, weeping quietly; and the slow tears of +age were trickling down her wrinkled, brown face, +while she strained her eyes to read the crooked awkward +lines of her son’s letter.</p> +<p class="pnext">“He was a good boy,” she said, taking Jane’s +little hand in her gnarled old one. “I understood +him, never fear. He was a brave, fine boy—and +he always loved his old mother. I know that. +Didn’t he send me this pretty shawl—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But Granny, darling, he may get well. Don’t +cry, Granny. Don’t you cry.” She kissed the old +woman, and patted her, feeling awed and oppressed +by this aged sorrow that she could not share.</p> +<p class="pnext">After a minute, she quietly left Grandmother +Winkler, and in an unusually silent, and subdued +mood, went away to help the twins.</p> +<!-- File: 023.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iibusybody-jane"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id3">CHAPTER II—BUSYBODY JANE</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">At half past eight, Elise had seen that the two +little girls had their books and their packages of +sandwiches, and started them off to school, Carl +and Jane marching behind.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, and Janey!” she called, hastening back to +the doorway. “Will you remember to give those +patterns back to Lily Deacon for me. I’m going +to be <em class="italics">so</em> busy. Any time this afternoon will do. +I put them in your school bag.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“All right,” said Jane, and Elise, always busy, +always placid and gentle, went back to her work.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, what do <em class="italics">you</em> think about it?” Jane asked, +presently. She had quite forgotten her recent +friction with Carl, for quick tempered as she was, +she rarely remembered a quarrel ten minutes after +it occurred.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Think about what?” said Carl, gruffly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“About Paul’s coming, of course. It’s awfully +sad about Uncle Franz—but it <em class="italics">is</em> sort of exciting +having a new cousin to stay with us, I think.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You wouldn’t think it so awfully exciting if +<em class="italics">you</em> had to share your room with someone you +never saw in your life,” returned Carl, sulkily. “I +don’t see why one of the store-rooms couldn’t be +cleared out for him. All I know is that I won’t +stand for it a second if he tries to sling my things +around, or scatter his all over the place.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Carl was never very enthusiastic about sharing +anything with anyone (though in this instance one +might sympathize with his annoyance) and his +fussy love of neatness reached a degree that one +would far sooner expect to find in a crabbed old +maid than in a boy of sixteen years.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane did not reply to this indignant objection.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What do you think he’ll be like?” she asked +next, scuffling through the piles of ruddy brown +leaves that lay thick on the uneven brick walk.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think he’ll be a big, roistering bully. That’s +what I think,” answered Carl savagely; his lips +set in a stubborn line, and the lenses of his spectacles +glinted so angrily, that Jane decided to drop +the subject.</p> +<p class="pnext">For several minutes they walked along in silence: +the twins marching ahead, chattering like little magpies, +their yellow pigtails bobbing under their round +brown felt hats. Each clutched her spelling book +and reader, and her package of sandwiches and +cookies; each wore a bright blue dress, a bright red +sweater, and a snow white pinafore.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was fully a mile to the school, but as a rule +the brisk young Lamberts walked it in twenty +minutes. This morning, however, Jane dawdled +shamelessly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t feel like school to-day a bit,” she remarked, +looking up through the trees.</p> +<!-- File: 025.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“You never do,” returned Carl, dryly, “but +you’ve got to go all the same. I bet you don’t +play hookey again in a hurry.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“H’m?” said Jane, “why not?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why not?” the first really mirthful grin that +Carl had shown that day spread slowly over his +serious features. “Didn’t you catch it hot enough +last time? You’re such an idiot anyway. If you’d +only do your work conscientiously you wouldn’t +mind school. I’d hate it too if I were as big a +dunce as you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh,—you would, would you, Goody-goody?” +retorted Jane with spirit. “I’m not a dunce. I’m +the brightest girl in my class.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Whoo-ee!” whooped Carl, staggered by +this cool conceit. “Well! If you haven’t got +cheek!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“’Tisn’t cheek,” said Jane, calmly, “I am. I +heard Dr. Andrews say so to Miss Trowbridge.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well—he must have been talking through his +hat, then,” observed Carl. “He was <em class="italics">probably</em> talking +about someone else.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, he wasn’t. They were standing outside +the school-room door, at lunch-hour, and I was in +there, and I heard Dr. Andrews say, ‘That little +Jane Lambert has brains. She’s one of the brightest +children—’ ”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That’s the trouble with you!” broke in Carl, +thoroughly exasperated. “You’ve got such a +swell-head that you won’t work at all. And I +don’t see how anyone could say that you were +clever when you get about one problem right out +of a dozen.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t see how either,” said Jane placidly; “but +he did. Oh, look—Miss Clementina has got a new +canary!”</p> +<p class="pnext">There was no event that occurred in Frederickstown +which did not excite Jane’s interest. She +stopped to peer into the front window of a small +brick house, where amid a perfect jungle of banana +plants and ferns, a brightly gilded cage hung between +two much befrilled net curtains.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Poor old lady, I’m glad she got her bird. He +has a black spot on his head just like her old one. +I daresay her cat will eat him too. I wonder what +she has named him. Her old one was named +William.” Jane giggled.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What an idiotic name for a bird!” said Carl. +Like his father, he was never amused by anything +that seemed to him fantastic. “You’d better hurry +up and stop peeking into everyone’s window. Come +on.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane reluctantly obeyed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“William is a queer name for a bird,” she agreed +amicably, “but it’s no queerer than calling her cat +Alfred, and that awful little monkey of hers, Howard. +She told me that she named her pets for all +her old sweethearts.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Her old sweethearts!” echoed Carl derisively.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. She said that she had dozens. And you +know what? I believe it’s true. Anyhow, she has +lots of pictures of beautiful gentlemen, with black +moustaches and curly side-whiskers. I’ve seen the +whole collection. She said she never could bear +fair men.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Humph!” said Carl.</p> +<p class="pnext">“She said that she was dreadfully heartless when +she was a girl. An awful flirt. Professor Dodge +still calls on her every Sunday afternoon—all +dressed up with a flower in his button-hole, and +kid gloves, and a little bouquet wrapped up in wet +paper. And she plays the piano for him, and sings +‘Alice Ben Bolt’ and ‘The Mocking Bird’ and +‘Coming Thro’ the Rye.’ ”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What a busybody you are. Always prying into +other people’s affairs. It wouldn’t hurt you to +mind your own business for a while, I must say.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t pry into other people’s affairs,” said +Jane, quite unruffled. “Most of ’em seem to like +to talk, and I just listen—that’s all.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“There’s the bell, now! Hang it, we’re late. +Why can’t you—” but here Carl set off in a race +for the school-house, outstripping the two squealing, +panting twins. And in another moment, Jane, too, +was scampering across the square as fast as her +legs would carry her.</p> +<p class="pnext">That was, in truth, not destined to be a very +successful day for Jane. To begin with, she was +marked “tardy” for the third time that month. +The first classes went off passably; but she came to +grief as she was congratulating herself on the fact +that she had managed to scrape along fairly well.</p> +<p class="pnext">With all her quickness and curiosity, Jane had +small love for hard study; but her aptness in gathering +the general sense of a lesson at almost a glance +stood her in good stead, and with very little trouble +on her part she succeeded in shining quite brilliantly +in history, general science, and geography. When +it came to mathematics however, she met her Waterloo.</p> +<p class="pnext">This class was presided over by Miss Farrel, a +vague old lady, with near-sighted, reproachful blue +eyes, and an almost inaudible voice, who taught a +dry subject in the dryest possible manner.</p> +<p class="pnext">For some reason, Jane found it more difficult +than ever to keep her mind on square roots and unknown +quantities that morning. Her eyes wandered +longingly to the window. It was open, for the day +had grown warmer toward noon, and in the quiet +square an old man was raking up the fallen leaves +into a row of small bonfires, and lifting them in +bundles into a little wheeled cart. Patiently he +limped back and forth, stopping every now and +then to push his old felt hat back on his head and +mop his forehead with a colored handkerchief, +which in between times waved jauntily from his +hip pocket. The pungent smell of leaf smoke +drifted in through the window. The golden and +ruddy foliage of the elm-trees and lindens made +a fretted canopy over the drowsy green, through +which sifted the mellow light of an Indian summer +sun.</p> +<p class="pnext">Fat Lulu Pierson’s thick, glossy pig-tails next +engrossed Jane’s attention. She took one gently in +her fingers; the evenly clipped end of it reminded +her of the brush that Sam Lung, the Chinese laundry-man +used when he wrote out his receipts. She +dipped it in the ink, and began to make hieroglyphics +on her scratch-tablet. Then Lulu gave an impatient +jerk, and the wet pig-tail just missed causing +general disaster. Jane carefully took it again, dried +it on her blotter, and made a serious effort to concentrate +her attention by fixing her gaze gravely on +Miss Farrel’s wrinkled face. But she soon found +that she was merely wondering why that prim old +dame took the trouble to wear a little bunch of false +curls across her forehead—such a remarkable cluster, +as smooth and crisp as spun glass, pinned with +a little bow of black taffeta ribbon. And so +honestly false—certainly they could not have been +selected with the intention of deceiving, for not +even Miss Farrel, near-sighted as she was, could +have imagined for a moment that they matched the +diminutive nubbin into which her own grey locks +were twisted every morning.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why doesn’t she wear a wig? Though after +all that auburn is rather nice. I don’t see why +she doesn’t change ’em around sometimes—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, Jane, perhaps you can tell us,” Miss +Farrel’s soft voice broke in upon these reflections, +and Jane started as if she had been awakened from +a sound sleep. She gasped, and then quickly recovering +herself, said blandly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, Miss Farrel.”</p> +<p class="pnext">There was a dead silence. Jane looked about +her in surprise, to find every eye in the room fixed +on her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well?” prompted Miss Farrel.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane swallowed. She had not the remotest idea +what the question was. Nevertheless she made a +bold attempt to conceal this fact, and with an aplomb +admirable under the circumstances, said,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I didn’t exactly understand the question, Miss +Farrel.”</p> +<p class="pnext">A faint tinge of color appeared upon each of +Miss Farrel’s cheekbones, and her almost invisible +eyebrows went up.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And what didn’t you understand about it? I +am sure I don’t see how it could be expressed in +any clearer terms. Will you repeat it to me? +Then we can soon find out just where my words +confused you.” The old lady felt that she was +being exceedingly cunning.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane winked her eyes rapidly, opened her mouth, +shut it, and moistened her lower lip with the tip of +her tongue. She knew she was cornered.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, Jane. And stand up please when you recite,” +said Miss Farrel in ominously gentle tones. +“And don’t fidget, Jane. Put that eraser down. +We are waiting, Jane.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, what I didn’t understand was—was—I +didn’t understand—I didn’t understand the question.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Another silence.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Did you <em class="italics">hear</em> the question?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, Miss Farrel.”</p> +<!-- File: 031.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Oh. And what, pray, have you been doing?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why—just thinking.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah. How interesting. And what were you +thinking of?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane tried to keep her face straight, and looked +down to hide the laughter in her eyes.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Nothing, Miss Farrel.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Silence again. Miss Farrel opened her little +black record book, and slowly and deliberately registered +Jane’s crime.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sit down, Jane. And will you please wait for +me here after school. At three o’clock. Well, +Isabel, will <em class="italics">you</em> give me the formula for finding the +area of a circle.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane took her seat.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What a goose I am, anyway,” she thought, and +accepted her punishment with her usual calmness.</p> +<p class="pnext">At three o’clock, when the other girls, chattering +and laughing gathered their books and left the +school-room singly and in groups, she sat at her +desk waiting for Miss Farrel. The cleaning +woman came in, with her mop and bucket, and began +to splash the dusty wooden floor. She was a +talkative, good-natured old thing, and one of Jane’s +numerous intimates.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, now, what are they keepin’ you here for, +this fine afternoon, Miss Janey?” she said sympathetically.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I don’t mind much. How’s Amelia, Mrs. +Tinker?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Fine. Fine, miss, thank yer.”</p> +<!-- File: 032.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“And how’s Henry Clay?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“He’s fine, too, I thank yer.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is Mr. Tinker out of the hospital yet?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Not yet, I thank yer,” said Mrs. Tinker, cheerfully. +“They think as how he’ll have to be there +another six weeks or so. Well, I’m not one to +complain against what the Lord thinks best, and +I says to Henry Clay, ‘Don’t complain, Henry. +You let well enough alone,’ says I.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is Henry Clay the one that’s going to be an +undertaker?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That’s right, miss. The boy’s always had his +heart set on it, and as I says to Mr. Tinker, ‘Don’t +oppose him.’ And Henry shows wonderful talent +for it, miss. Wonderful.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane was going to ask how a precocious talent +for undertaking manifested itself, when Miss Farrel +appeared.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Perhaps, Mrs. Tinker, you might work just now +in one of the other rooms,” she suggested with +dignity. “You may return in an hour.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And then she turned her attention to Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">The old lady began by a plaintive little discourse +on Jane’s shortcomings, and on the future disasters +that they would most certainly lead to. She tried +to sound severe and cold, but now and then she +said “my dear,” and once she laid her small, old +hand on Janey’s. It was so difficult to be severe +with Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And now, Jane, we must review all last week’s +work. You see how much time you lose?”</p> +<!-- File: 033.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">The lesson began; but it turned out that Jane +was able to answer very nearly every question that +Miss Farrel asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, you see? Oh, if you would only put +your mind on your work, my dear, it would really +be a pleasure to teach you. My dear old teacher +used to say—”</p> +<p class="pnext">And here, veering away from the discussion of +altitudes and bases, the good dame began to prattle +in the friendliest way about her own girlhood, and +about the little school she used to go to, way up in +the country, where half the tuition was paid in salt +pork and other provisions, and about her father and +brothers. Everybody seemed to drift into talking +about their own affairs to Jane, and Jane remembered +everything they told her. There was hardly +a soul in Frederickstown whose general history she +was not familiar with; very simple histories for +the most part, for the inhabitants of Frederickstown +were simple souls, yet each had its measure of +comedy and tragedy, and each had its mysterious +relationship to the character of its confiding narrator.</p> +<p class="pnext">So now Miss Farrel told her about her sister, +Miss Elizabeth, who was, she said, so much the +cleverer and better in every way—the last of her +whole family, and crippled with inflammatory +rheumatism; and about her wonderful cat, Amaryllis, +and so on, and so on.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was nearly half-past four when the old lady +suddenly realized how little of the time she had +given to the lesson. Then she made a last attempt +to assume her dignity.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, now, my dear. Let me see. I think that +if only you will train yourself—so much depends +on our own selves, you know, my dear.” And then +after a second little discourse, delivered no doubt +principally to assure herself that everything she had +been saying had had some bearing on Jane’s particular +case, she picked up her inevitable knitting-bag, +and took her departure.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane, remembering her promise to Elise, to return +Lily’s patterns, set out toward the Deacon’s +house.</p> +<p class="pnext">It stood just at the top of Sheridan Lane, a +sleepy, prim old street, regarded as being rather +fashionable and aristocratic, principally because at +the lower end of it stood the deserted Sheridan +mansion, which, notwithstanding the fact that its +owners had not deigned to pay any attention to it +in fifteen years, was still one of the prides of Frederickstown.</p> +<p class="pnext">The quiet street was paved with cobblestones as +it descended the hill from Frederickstown itself, as +far as the ancient rusty fountain, in whose basin +the leaves collected in the autumn, and the birds +bathed in the spring; but on the opposite side, +where the hill began its rise, the street became +simply a white dusty road, leading on through sweet +smelling fields, over wooden bridges, where a +meadow stream doubled back on itself in loops, +past the Sheridan mansion, which marked the +limits of Frederickstown proper, and on to the open +country.</p> +<p class="pnext">The branches of the elm trees arched over Janey’s +head, and now and then, shaken by a drowsy breeze, +the yellowed leaves fell noiselessly.</p> +<p class="pnext">Through the open window of the Deacon’s little +parlour, came the sound of chords struck on a tinkling +square piano, followed by scales and arpeggios +sung in a sweet, if rather timid and unsubstantial, +feminine voice.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah.” Chord. “Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah.” +Chord. And so on, patiently +up the scale. Miss Deacon was practising. +It was a part of her daily program, and never would +it have entered Lily’s head to deviate from that +daily program, mapped out by her excellent but +strong-minded and dictatorial mamma. Singing +was a very genteel accomplishment for a young +lady, and Mrs. Deacon desired above all things that +Lily should be elegant.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane leaned on the window sill, and listened +to the scales for a little while, watching Miss +Lily’s slender throat swell and quiver like a +bird’s.</p> +<p class="pnext">“How pretty she is. If I were as pretty as that, +I think I’d be perfectly happy; but she always looks +sort of sad. Maybe it’s because she’s always being +fussed at.”</p> +<p class="pnext">There was indeed no girl in Frederickstown who +could claim to be quite as pretty as Lily Deacon. +Slender and small, with a little tip-tilted nose, which +gave the most unexpected and charming spice of +coquetry to her delicate face, with large serious +blue eyes, and glossy black hair so neatly coiled on +the nape of her neck, with beautifully drawn eyebrows, +and a tiny mole at the corner of her under +lip, accentuating the whiteness of her skin, she would +have drawn her tributes of admiration from any +pair of eyes that rested on her—and would have +been perfectly blind to them. Lily’s mother would +not have allowed her for a moment to imagine that +she was pretty, and Lily never thought of disobeying +mamma. Prettiness, according to Mrs. Deacon’s +severe judgement, counted for nothing; as she +had once observed, “It was only as deep as the epidermis.” +Elegance alone was desirable. You +should never say that you were “hot”—a lady +spoke of being “warm.” And the word “scared” +was abominable; you should speak of being “startled” +or “alarmed.” Lily was almost perfectly elegant. +She wore a silk dress, and her pink nails +were polished, and even when she sat at the piano, +she was so afraid of not having her feet demurely +crossed, that she did not dare to use the pedals.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But, Miss Lily, don’t you ever sing anything but +scales?” demanded Jane presently. Miss Deacon +jumped, put her hand to her throat, and then slowly +turned her head.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh—Janey! How you sc-alarmed me!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m sorry,” said Jane, “Elise told me to give +you these patterns. Here they are in my bag. +No—I don’t believe she put ’em in at all. Well, +then it’s her fault this time—no, here they are.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Thank you so much. How thoughtful of you. +Won’t you come in?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, you’re practising, aren’t you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Lily shook her head.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s nearly five. And I’m tired.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What a lovely day it is,” she got up, and came +to the window, where she stood, looking up the +street, one hand resting on the frame above her +head. The wind ruffled her hair a little, and blew +the end of her lacy kerchief against her cheek, +shaking free a faint scent of sachet.</p> +<p class="pnext">She sighed gently, and a momentary frown ruffled +her smooth forehead.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I wish—” she began impetuously, and then +abruptly checked herself.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What?” prompted Jane, curiously. For some +reason, she really wanted very much to know what +Miss Lily wished. But Lily shook her head, smiling +a little awkwardly as if she regretted even having +said so much; or as if she wasn’t sure herself +what she did wish. Every now and again, one +caught that quick, vanishing expression in her large +blue eyes, which seemed to say, “I wish—” and +never got any farther.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I don’t know what I was going to say. +Something foolish, no doubt,” and then to change +the subject, she said hastily,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I suppose you have heard the news about the +Sheridan house?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No! What? It isn’t sold, is it? If they tear +it down, and build a horrid old factory there, I +don’t know what I’ll do.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, no—not that. But some member of the +family is going to live there again, and is already +moving in.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, that’s nice,” said Jane. What a lot of +events were taking place in Frederickstown! “Do +you know who it is? Man, woman or child? Any +people of my age? Anybody <em class="italics">interesting</em>?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Lily blushed slightly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, I’m not sure. I think there’s only one—a +Mr. Sheridan, I suppose.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Young, old or middle-aged?” inquired Jane, +who had already rather lost interest.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, he seemed rather youngish,” said Lily, +blushing again, “but I couldn’t tell very well.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“When did you see him?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, I didn’t exactly see him. I heard mamma +talking about it last night, and then this morning I +just happened to see a carriage drive past—in my +mirror, while I was doing my hair, so of course, I +couldn’t be sure—but, anyhow, someone was sitting +in it leaning back, with a stick—but it seemed to be +fairly young—though I couldn’t tell,” Lily explained +confusedly. It seemed to her to be a little +indelicate perhaps to look at a fairly young +man in a mirror, while you were doing your +hair.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Um,” said Jane. “Well, I suppose it’s too late +to go and investigate now. But I think I’ll go to-morrow.”</p> +<!-- File: 039.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Jane! You couldn’t do that!” said Lily, +in a shocked tone.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why not? How else’ll I find out.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, I don’t know.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Very well then. Somebody’s got to know +something about strangers when they come here.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes—that’s true,” said Lily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Of course,” said Jane. “It’s what you call +civic interest.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh,” said Lily,—she had been taught to call +“it” curiosity; but then mamma’s vocabulary was +not like other peoples’.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I have a tremendous amount of civic interest,” +said Jane, complacently, “I ought to be able to do +this town a lot of good.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And with a jaunty wave of her hand, she took +her leave. As she turned out of Sheridan Lane, +she once more heard the light, pure tones of Lily’s +voice, but now they sounded a little gayer, a little +warmer and sweeter than they had before, and +what was more, instead of the monotonous scales, +Lily was singing a pert song, which mamma, had +she heard it, would probably not have thought elegant +at all.</p> +<!-- File: 040.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-iiicivic-interest"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id4">CHAPTER III—CIVIC INTEREST</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Young Mr. Sheridan might perhaps have grudgingly +admitted that the morning was beautiful. It +would have been hard even for a young man who +had definitely made up his mind to be no longer +pleased with anything, to deny that there was something +almost pleasant in a day as soft and quiet as +that June itself could bring, in a garden all enmeshed +in net of stirring shadows, and in a free +outlook toward hills that glowed with autumn +colors.</p> +<p class="pnext">The old “home place” wasn’t so bad; rather +overgrown with weeds and vines and somewhat +dilapidated; the roof leaked on the third floor front, +and the wooden steps at the back had broken down +completely; but this crumbling and tumbling state +harmonized with the state of young Mr. Sheridan’s +mind. He accepted it with a sort of gloomy satisfaction. +This general poetic decay seemed to him +quite touchingly suitable to the mood which he fully +believed was to color the declining years of his +short and blasted life. Mr. Sheridan had convinced +himself that he had received a crushing +blow; a blow that no self-respecting gentleman +<em class="italics">ought</em> to survive for very long. He had convinced +himself that he neither could nor should be happy +again. He had quite made up his mind that the +world was a dreary waste, and all human beings, +rascals and base deceivers, whose society a wise +man would shun. This unfriendly humor was +directed to mankind in general and to the feminine +element in particular.</p> +<p class="pnext">He had awakened that morning—his first in the +old mansion—in a gigantic mahogany bed. Peterson, +his servant, was kindling a fire to drive +the lingering dampness out of the long unused +room.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good morning, Mr. Tim, sir,” said Peterson +with objectionable cheerfulness, “I hope sir, ye had +a good night?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Sheridan eyed the old man with melancholy +suspicion. He was loath to class Peterson in with +the rest of the miserable human race; nevertheless, it +was wiser to trust no one absolutely—not even +Peterson.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, well, I suppose I slept as well as I could expect, +Peterson. An owl or something woke me up +at about one o’clock, and I couldn’t get to sleep +for hours. But still—”</p> +<p class="pnext">As a matter of fact, Mr. Sheridan had slept as +soundly as a baby, but having been entirely unconscious +while he did so, he certainly could not +have <em class="italics">known</em> whether he was asleep or awake. But +his latest fancy was that he suffered from insomnia. +Insomnia was the traditional affliction of all broken-hearted +lovers, and there was no ailment common +to the broken hearted that Mr. Sheridan would +allow himself to forego.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Any letters, Peterson?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Of course there were no letters. In the first +place, who knew or cared that he had buried himself +away in this forsaken corner of the earth, and +in the second place, what did letters mean to him, +who with all the contempt that they deserved had +severed his relations with his fellow beings—especially +the feminine ones—forever. He must +remember not to ask Peterson again if there were +any letters. Peterson might imagine that he was +so weak as to hope that Miss Abbot had repented +of her cruel and barbarous treatment, and under no +circumstances was Peterson to imagine anything of +the sort. Why, on the contrary, if Mary, that is +to say, Miss Abbot—were to come to him and beg +his pardon on her knees, and tell him that she knew +she was a wicked coquette, and unworthy of his +slightest notice, he would say to her,</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, Mary—or, No, Madam, what you ask now +is no longer in my power to give. My forgiveness +is yours—gladly, but neither you nor I can revive—or, +but never again, I fear, can that sweet emotion—” +or anyhow, something to the effect that +while he forgave her gladly—he wouldn’t forgive +her at all. But magnanimously. He would be +very magnanimous. Nothing could be more crushing +than a lofty and unapproachable kindness. He +would let her know the extent of the damage she +had wrought, but she should also be made to feel +that he was capable of supporting it without bitterness—to +the end.</p> +<p class="pnext">So engrossed was he in the composition of that +final speech of forgiveness and farewell—which he +had composed at least a dozen times already—that +he absent-mindedly tucked away every morsel of +Peterson’s generously provided breakfast, comprising +fruit and coffee, poached eggs, bacon, marmalade, +and half a dozen of the most exquisite rolls +he had ever eaten.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Those rolls, Peterson—they are rather nice,” he +remarked, with a touch of enthusiasm that he +quickly suppressed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Tim. I’m glad to +have found something as pleases you, sir,” said +Peterson, with a perfectly grave face.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. My appetite hasn’t been very good lately.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, Mr. Tim,” agreed Peterson, tactfully.</p> +<p class="pnext">After a short silence, Mr. Sheridan asked indifferently,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Where did you get them?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Up in the town, sir. There’s a Bakery there +sir as I never see the like of, Mr. Tim. Why, +what with the cakes and rolls and puddin’s and +what-not, I fairly lost me eyes, sir! You should +stroll up to the town, like, Mr. Tim. It’s a neat +little place, sure enough—”</p> +<p class="pnext">His young master checked him gently, reminding +him with a little wave of his hand, that he could +not be expected to be interested in all that.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But the rolls, Peterson. You might see that I +have them for breakfast every morning.” So saying, +he lit a cigarette, and walked out through the +open window into his garden to meditate; leaving +Peterson to meditate in his turn on this absolutely +novel way of acting that Mr. Tim had adopted. +Why, he could hardly believe that this formal and +taciturn gentleman was Mr. Tim at all, and the old +man who remembered the days, not long since, +when he had connived in all sorts of pranks and +waggery; when he had, many’s the time, been called +in as judge and counsel as to how his young master +should get himself out of this and that “scrape,” +when in fact, Mr. Tim never dreamed of doing +anything without Peterson’s opinion—remembering +those jolly days when he had been honored with +Mr. Tim’s perfect confidence, Peterson felt wounded. +Then he glanced through the window. Mr. Tim, +who had been promenading back and forth, leaning +on a stick, in keeping with his extraordinary notion +that blighted love always left one a semi-invalid, +had now allowed himself to sink wearily onto a +stone bench. On second thought, Peterson did +not feel wounded; he felt rather like shaking dear +Mr. Tim.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Say what you like, that’s no way to go on, now. +Life’s too easy for him, and that’s the truth, though +I don’t say I wouldn’t hate to see it hard for him. +But to take on so, just because a young lady was +pleased to make up her mind not to have him! +’Tisn’t every young feller has the leisure to sit and +mope himself into the vapors over a chip in his +heart, that’ll be whole again in three months.” +Then Peterson grinned. After all, such absurdities +had not been entirely absent from his own youth; +and he could not find it in his heart to censure Mr. +Tim severely for any of his eccentricities. In his +opinion this young man whom he had systematically +spoiled since his childhood was not to be +judged by common standards. Things that one +might call faults in other young gentlemen, became +merely “peculiarities” in the case of Mr. Tim. +And it was not Peterson alone who inclined to +shameless leniency with young Mr. Sheridan. His +friends always managed to explain why it was perfectly +all right for Tim to do things he oughtn’t to +do, and leave undone all the things he ought to do; +at college his teachers were forever giving him one +more chance, and at home his grumpy uncle scolded +him and pampered him, and feebly allowed his +usually sharp old wits to be completely fuddled +by Tim’s airy arguments.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Somehow or other you’ll manage to persuade +all your devoted friends and wellwishers to help +you to the dogs,” Major Sheridan had once remarked +acidly; and as proof of the truth of this, +as the Major himself pointed out, the old man, notwithstanding +many threats of disinheritance, had +left every sou of his fortune to his nephew, simply +because, while his common sense told him that the +best thing in the world for the young man would be +to leave him nothing at all, like Peterson he couldn’t +quite bear the thought of Tim’s lacking anything.</p> +<!-- File: 046.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">At the age of twenty-seven, then, Timothy Sheridan +possessed of an honorable name, health, +wealth, good looks, and a very fair measure of +intelligence, could consider himself sufficiently unencumbered +by duties and responsibilities to indulge +in the luxury of doing nothing whatever. +But somebody has said that no one can be thoroughly +happy without finding something to be +unhappy about; and the truth of the matter is that +Mr. Sheridan was exceedingly gratified to discover +that his heart was broken; though it need hardly +be said that this was the last thing in the world he +would ever have admitted. It was such a refreshingly +new experience. His only fear was that he +was not getting out of it all that some people +claimed to feel. He checked up all his symptoms +to make sure that he had the real disease. Sleeplessness, +loss of appetite, a longing for solitude—yes, +he was quite sure that he had all these symptoms, +and the satisfactory conclusion was that his +heart was broken. He might really consider the +matter settled. Now, what is the next thing to +be done? Under the circumstances one should +make no effort. One simply shunned society, +amused oneself with solitary walks perhaps, +looked on sceptically from afar at the insipid lives +of other human beings, and made sweet melancholy +a constant companion. But how long did +one keep this up? The very fact that he could ask +himself such a crudely practical question, made +him feel rather uncomfortable; how could he even +imagine the possibility of <em class="italics">wanting</em> to do anything +else?</p> +<p class="pnext">He leaned back, and looked about him with an +indifferent eye. From where he sat, he could see +beyond the wall that enclosed the garden—a wall +seven or eight feet high, its cracked plaster laced +together by the strong black tendrils of the ivy-vine. +If he turned his head he could see the whole length +of Sheridan Lane. All the trees on Sheridan Lane +had turned yellow, and the leaves strewing its +cobblestones, looked like golden coins—the generous +largess scattered in the progress of jovial +King Autumn. Above the mass of frost-nipped +foliage rose the rounded belfry of the old church, +and underneath lay the double rows of pretty gardens +all glowing with their asters and chrysanthemums.</p> +<p class="pnext">Then, if he looked in front of him he saw those +wine-tinted hills, rising beyond the gentle basin of +the valley meadows, where the sun was melting the +early morning frost, and scattering the light mists. +Two men with leggins laced up to their sturdy +knees, and carrying guns and game bags, were +striding across the field, followed by their dogs. +A glint of interest sparkled up in Mr. Sheridan’s +listless eyes.</p> +<p class="pnext">“By Jove, I’ll bet there’s shooting here. I +wonder if Peterson had the sense to pack my guns. +I’ll wire Phil to-night—” then he checked himself +hastily. Such diversions were premature to say +the least. But as he resumed his seat on the bench, +his attention was attracted by another object. On +the wall was something which had not been there +when he had last looked in the direction of Sheridan +Lane. Calmly planted on its broad flat top, with +a pair of slender black-stockinged legs swinging, +calmly polishing off a monstrous scarlet apple on +the front of a bright green sweater, sat a perfectly +strange specimen of the condemned human race; +and, what was more, it was unmistakably <em class="italics">feminine</em>. +It was, in short, a girl of about fourteen years of +age, though apparently not very tall for her years, +with a dense mop of curly, reddish hair, a pair of +uncommonly bright, and observant eyes, and the +beaming hospitable smile of one who has the rare +faculty of making herself thoroughly at home in +any circumstances. Even Mr. Sheridan’s cold and +unmistakably hostile stare did not seem to make +her feel that she was not welcome, or that she ought +to offer any explanation for her presence. She +looked at her apple, polished it some more, and at +length fastened her sharp little teeth in its red +cheek, biting off what seemed to be at least one +half of the entire fruit.</p> +<p class="pnext">After a pause, Mr. Sheridan said, with freezing +courtesy,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is there anything I can do for you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, no,” said Jane, kindly. “Nothing at all.” +And until she had finished her apple, and flung the +core with admirable markmanship against a tree at +the other side of the road, silence reigned—the +silence of indignation and helplessness on Mr. +Sheridan’s part, of serene composure on Jane’s.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I am just looking around,” she condescended +to explain at last.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I see,” said Mr. Sheridan politely. “Do you +know that you are trespassing?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, yes. But that’s all right. I’m always trespassing. +I can’t help it. Out there—” she jerked +her head in the direction of the fields, “there are +signs everywhere you go, ‘No trespassing.’ But +by the time I come to ’em I’ve already been trespassing +for miles, so I might as well go on. Besides, +I’ve often done it purposely just to see what +would happen, but nothing ever does.” And having +said this in a most reassuring tone, she fished +a second apple out of the pocket of her sweater +and began to polish it as she had the first. To his +horror, Mr. Sheridan saw that those green +pockets were bulging.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You’ll make yourself ill,” he remarked.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, no. I never make myself ill,” said Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Are you going to eat <em class="italics">all</em> those?” he demanded, +pointing with his stick at her crammed pockets.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I could, easily,” said Jane, “but you can +have as many as you like. Catch.” And she +pulled out a third apple, and tossed it to him. He +caught it; but feeling that it was not dignified even +to pretend that he wanted it, he laid it down beside +him on the bench.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Try it,” said Jane, “it’s a good one. It’s still +wet, because I just picked it up. Mr. Webster has +millions, and he <em class="italics">said</em> I could take all I wanted. +Here, I’ll dry it for you if you don’t want to get +your handkerchief all wet.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Thank you,” said Mr. Sheridan, “I don’t believe +I care for it just now.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Another silence. Then as if the idea had just +occurred to her, Jane said almost with alarm,</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">You</em> don’t mind my trespassing, do you, Mr. +Sheridan?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“How did you know my name?” he asked in +surprise, and at the same time, feeling a trifle flattered. +Like most people he was vain enough to +be pleased when anyone seemed to know who he +was without being told.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I recognized you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Recognized me? When did you—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“By your stick. Miss Lily said that you had a +stick, and that you were youngish.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh.” A brief pause, during which Mr. Sheridan +did not look displeased. Jane, who never +missed a change of expression, felt that she had hit +upon a happy thread of conversation, and she +ventured to commence another apple.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Who is Miss Lily?” inquired Mr. Sheridan, +forgetting that he was not in the least interested +in hearing about his fellow creatures—especially +the feminine ones.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, Miss Lily Deacon. She lives up there,” +Jane jerked her head casually in the direction, “in +the first house on the left hand side just as you +turn into Sheridan Lane. The one with iron deers +on each side of the gate. She’s <em class="italics">very</em> pretty. Mrs. +Deacon is very fat, but she certainly is what you’d +called impressive looking, and she does a lot of +good. I mean she’s on committees and things, and +<em class="italics">always</em> president.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Um,” said Mr. Sheridan. Then, boring the +end of his cane through a dead leaf, he asked carelessly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“But when did Miss Lily see me? I’ve never +been here before.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yesterday morning she said. She said she +couldn’t tell exactly what you were like, because +she only saw you in her handmirror while she was +brushing her hair, but <em class="italics">I</em> think she got a pretty good +idea.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Poor Miss Lily. If she had ever dreamed that +Jane would be placidly repeating her indiscreet +little confidences, she would have died of mortification. +But Jane, who, in her own peculiar way, +was immeasurably more astute than Miss Lily, saw +very plainly that Mr. Sheridan was trying to suppress +a complacent smile.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And how did <em class="italics">she</em> know who I was?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, in the first place, she’d heard that one of +the family was going to live in this house again, +and then she saw you drive in here, so she just +used her common sense, I suppose.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah—of course.”</p> +<p class="pnext">After a moment, he said, with the most engaging +friendliness,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think you might tell me <em class="italics">your</em> name.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“My name? Jane.”</p> +<!-- File: 052.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Jane what?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Lambert. Are you going to live here a long +time?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Sheridan sighed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think so.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What are you going to do?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do? Well,—that would be a little difficult to +explain. I came here primarily for—solitude.” +The melancholy tone of his voice prompted a dozen +inquisitive questions to the tip of Jane’s tongue.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh. Are you sick?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“There are different kinds of illness,” said Mr. +Sheridan gloomily and mysteriously. Jane’s grave +eyes considered him attentively. Perhaps he was +suffering from a guilty conscience. He might have +embezzled money from a bank. He might even +have killed someone. She felt very sorry for him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t you ever want to see anybody? I can’t +understand that.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“My dear child,” said Mr. Sheridan in a patronizing +tone, “there are probably several things that +you don’t understand yet. How old are you, may +I ask?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Fourteen. Fifteen really. My birthday comes +next month. But don’t you remember that it says +in the Bible that it isn’t good for people to be alone. +That was the text just last Sunday, and I remember +thinking that that was why we are all crowded together +into this town, instead of scattering out over +there—” she waved in the direction of the country, +“where it seems much nicer.”</p> +<!-- File: 053.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Sheridan made no reply, for a moment. +Then as Jane made a motion to depart, he said +hastily,</p> +<p class="pnext">“What do <em class="italics">you</em> do?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, <em class="italics">I</em> go to school, and help mother, and go +on adventures—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Go on adventures?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. Long, long walks. Sometimes with the +twins, and sometimes with Carl, though he never +wants to go where I want to go, and often by myself. +I take a package of bread and cheese because +I get hungry very easily, or sometimes some +Raisin Delights, and I pretend that I’m going out +into the world to seek my fortune. And I walk +and walk, sometimes taking this road and sometimes +that—until it’s time to turn around and +come home.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t you ever get lost?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, often. That makes it more exciting than +ever.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What are Raisin Delights?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, just sort of cookies, with raisins and cinnamon +and orange peel. No one knows how to +make them but mother, because you see, she’s the +only real Winkler—except Granny, and Granny’s +too old to do much in the Bakery any more. When +Paul comes of course he’ll learn how, because he’s +a real Winkler too.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Who is Paul?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane, at this, launched into the complete history +of her family, charmed to find her listener who was +far more interested than he himself was aware of +being.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And—and is this Miss Lily a cousin or something +of yours?” inquired Mr. Sheridan, artfully +bringing the topic around to the subject that for +some reason he found particularly agreeable.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No. She’s just Elise’s best friend.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And what does <em class="italics">she</em> do?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, she practises on the piano, and sings, and +embroiders, and goes to committees with her +mother—though I don’t think she likes that much. +And then she makes up bundles of things to send +to people in China, and goes to see sick people.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Does she like that?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I guess so. She takes things to poor people—there +are a whole lot of them who live along the +creek, and she’s awfully good to them.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I see,” said Mr. Sheridan. He could not think +of anything more to say just then, and after a +pause, Jane began to think that she ought to be +going.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, good-bye. I hope you’ll feel better +after a while,” she said, catching hold of a low +hanging branch, preparatory to swinging herself +down to earth.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Thank you.” Mr. Sheridan did not understand +why he felt just a trifle foolish. “I hope you +will pay me another visit.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, but I thought you wanted to be alone,” +said Jane, innocently.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Sheridan hesitated.</p> +<!-- File: 055.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“People in general are terrible nuisances,” he +said, at length. “I came here to avoid the boredom—that +is, at present I am very little in the +mood for being bothered by the curiosity of a host +of friends and acquaintances. But on the other +hand, it would be a pleasure to chat with you now +and then.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane was tremendously flattered.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I can understand that perfectly,” she said, +nodding her curly head with a great air of wisdom. +“Well, I’ll come and see you again. Aren’t you +really going to eat that apple?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Sheridan laughed, and tossed it back to her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There you are, Eve. Like Adam, I’d be much +better without it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">With the agility of a monkey, Jane, holding the +apple between her teeth, swung herself lightly and +easily to the ground. A little later Mr. Sheridan +saw the curly auburn head and the green sweater +moving up the hill, and with the feeling that he +would very much like to be going in the same direction, +toward that busy little town—yes, in the very +same direction of that human society which he had +resolved to shun—he turned away.</p> +<p class="pnext">He had already begun to doubt his wisdom in +allowing this slight infringement of the iron rule +of seclusion he had resolved to follow. Already +he felt very little inclined to spend the rest of the +morning going over the battalions of musty volumes +in the Major’s library, as he had planned,—his +idea had been to bury his sorrows in grave +bookishness. Already he found himself possessed +by a desire to venture out beyond the security of +his garden. And if he had followed Janey up the +hill, if he had seen her stop for a few moments, at +the gate of the house on the left hand side, to report +to a demure and shocked and vastly interested +young lady on various features of her late venture, +he would have felt that all his doubts on the wisdom +of allowing anything feminine within thirty +yards of him, were more than justified.</p> +<!-- File: 057.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-ivthe-appearance-of-paul"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id5">CHAPTER IV—THE APPEARANCE OF PAUL</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Jane lay on her stomach, stretched out comfortably +on the window-seat in Granny’s room, her +elbows propped on a cushion, her chin in her hands +and a book open on another cushion. The light +was already waning, for the days were growing +perceptibly shorter, and furthermore the afternoon +had been dark and stormy. A driving autumn +rain pattered steadily against the window, +drummed on the roof, gushed from the drain +pipes, and angrily stripped the branches of the +trees of their gaudy foliage. Now, only the stark +black boughs creaked in the wind; here and there +one stubborn brown leaf still clung to a twig, but +you could see the whole lead grey sky clearly, and +the irregular outlines of glistening roofs.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Granny’s room, always cosy, was cosiest +when the outside world was bleakest. A coal fire +glowed brightly in the old fashioned open stove, +reflecting in the window panes, on the elaborately +carved head-board of the great four-poster bed, +and in the plump, bulging surfaces of the well-polished +pewter jugs which stood in a row along +the shelf—treasured heirlooms, glistening self-complacently, +as if they knew that they had outlived four generations +of human beings. Granny’s +room, was in fact, a regular museum; a big, speckled +sea shell served as the door prop; chunks of +rock sparkling with mica lay on each side of the +stove; a stuffed owl, with only one glass eye stared +down from the lintel of the door. Wherever you +looked you saw some singular object which interested +you simply because you could not imagine +what it was for, why it had been treasured, or how +it had ever got into Granny’s room in the first +place. But there was not an article that Granny +would not have missed sadly if it had been removed. +Each curiosity had its particular association +which made it valuable to her; each was linked +to some memory, and she could not have parted +with one without parting with the thing it stood for.</p> +<p class="pnext">The atmosphere, warm almost to the point of +suffocation, was permeated with a peculiar, and far +from unpleasant odor, of apples, spices, and camphor, +emanating from the gigantic chest on one +side of the room. Like all good Winklers, Granny +had a sweet tooth, which was one reason why the +young Lamberts found her society so desirable. +To be sure, some people might not care much for +the flavor of camphor or cedar in their candied +orange peel, or Smyrna figs, but it was inseparable +from Granny’s tid-bits, and her grandchildren had +cultivated an especial taste for it.</p> +<p class="pnext">The twins sat on the floor in front of the fire, +playing with their paper dolls, while Granny nodded +over the many-coloured quilt she was knitting, happily +unconscious of the fact that Phyllis, her maltese +cat, had playfully carried the ball of red wool off +to a far corner, and was gleefully tangling it around +the legs of the dressing table. Every now and then +a burst of fresh laughter from one of the flaxen +haired twins roused her, and she smiled sympathetically, +and for a little while listened to their chatter; +then her head drooped again, her steel-rimmed spectacles +slid down on her nose, and lulled by the heat +of the fire, the drumming of the rain, and the sound +of their soft, happy voices, she dozed off peacefully.</p> +<p class="pnext">Lottie, looking up, and seeing that Jane was no +longer engrossed in “John Halifax,” ventured to +suggest timidly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Will you play with uth, Janey?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Occasionally, Jane condescended to forget her +fifteen years, and to take part in their infantile +games.</p> +<p class="pnext">“All right.” She rolled herself off the window +seat. “Want to play ‘French Revolution’?” +Jane had little taste for the domestic character of +the twin’s doll games.</p> +<p class="pnext">“How do you play that?” asked Minie.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, first of all you get me some books out of +my room,” ordered Jane, and Minie obediently +trotted off to return grunting under the burden of +“stage properties.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, you see, build a prison out of ’em,” went +on Jane; “this is the Conciergerie, and it has to be +full of prisoners; princesses and duchesses, and of +course Marie Antoinette. Now, we’ll make a +guillotine, and chop all their heads off. Don’t you +think that’ll be fun?”</p> +<p class="pnext">The twins were enchanted. Lottie piled the +hooks into a “scaffold,” while Minie sat by, clashing +the scissors, eagerly. And presently, one by +one, the poor paper prisoners were marched to their +doom, Jane directing the carnage, describing the +history of each victim, like a Greek chorus, and +delivering their last speeches, while Minie, hypnotized +into passive obedience, snipped off the paper +heads of her innocent, and dearly treasured dolls.</p> +<p class="pnext">Suddenly Jane jumped up.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think this is an <em class="italics">awful</em> game!” she exclaimed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Jane, aren’t you going to play any more?” +cried Lottie in dismay. Jane shook her head.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And all my poor dollies are dead!” wailed Minie, +suddenly realizing the extent of the disaster. Jane +looked really guilty.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We can make some more,” she said hastily; +“there are lots of old magazines in mother’s room.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But you can’t make Isabel again,” wept Minie.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, <em class="italics">you</em> cut her head off,” said Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But <em class="italics">you</em> told her to,” cried Lottie, taking up her +twin’s cause.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, you asked me to play with you, didn’t +you?” But Minie’s tears went to Jane’s heart. +“I’m sorry, Minie, darling. Please don’t cry. I’ll +tell you a story if you like.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Minie’s chubby, tearful face brightened.</p> +<p class="pnext">“A fairy story?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. About a prince and princess.”</p> +<!-- File: 061.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“And you won’t have it end up badly?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No. I promise.” So Jane, whose mind was a +perfect storehouse of stories and legends, had soon +charmed the twins into forgetfulness of their late +bereavement while she launched forth upon her +tale of giants and enchanted princes.</p> +<hr class="docutils"/> +<p class="pfirst">On this very afternoon, and in fact, at exactly +the time that Jane had staged her disastrous +amusement, a boy was tramping stolidly with his +head bent against the rain, along one of the country +roads a good three miles from Frederickstown. +He was a big, raw-boned boy, whose shabby +clothes originally much too loose for his lean +frame, and now soaked through, gave him an almost +grotesque appearance. A faded dark blue +cap, with a patent leather visor, such as sea-captains +wear, and the upturned collar of his coat, +almost concealed his long brown face, in which the +most striking features were a pair of black eyes, set +rather close together, and a big handsome Roman +nose. With a bundle slung over his shoulder on +the end of a stick, he looked like any one of the +foreign immigrants who were frequently seen seeking +for work as laborers on the neighboring farms.</p> +<p class="pnext">He did not raise his head until he reached a +cross-roads. Then he stopped, pushed back his +cap from his face, which was flushed and hot from +his long walk, and looked up at the signs. On the +left, the white board, roughly carved into the +semblance of a pointing finger, read, “Frederickstown, +2-½ Miles.” The name on the right-hand +sign-post was too badly damaged by weather to +be intelligible to a stranger’s eyes; only the distance, +“30 miles” was legible.</p> +<p class="pnext">There was no reason why the boy should have +hesitated for a moment; his destination was Frederickstown, +the second direction did not concern +him in the least; and yet, perhaps because the +vagueness of the destination of the second road +appealed to his imagination; perhaps because the +greater distance lent it greater charm, and the +very impossibility of walking thirty miles that day +made it seem the more desirable, at any rate there +he stood, looking uncertainly to the right, then to +the left, and back to the right again. A gust of +wind, flapping the skirts of his coat rudely, seemed +to shove him forward, as if impatient of his indecision, +but he planted his feet firmly, and continued +to gape uncertainly up at the sign posts. +“I’ll make up my own mind, thank you, and I’m +not to be hurried,” was the reply which his determined +attitude made to the impatience of the wind.</p> +<p class="pnext">There was little difference in the features of the +country traversed by the two roads; all that he +could see through the blur of the rain, were bleak +fields, muddy furrows, here and there a clump of +leafless trees, the skeleton of a forest, or, down in +a hollow the sheds and barns of a little farm. A +cheerless prospect for a hungry and footsore +Wanderer.</p> +<p class="pnext">Behind him he heard the weary splashing of a +horse’s feet, and the creaking of wheels. He +turned around. A covered wagon, drawn by a +tired, steaming horse was approaching.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hey!” he hailed the driver, who pulled in the +horse to a stand-still, and thrust out a grizzled face +from under the canvas.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Where does that road go to?” asked the boy, +pointing to the right.</p> +<p class="pnext">The driver tilted his hat, scratched his head, and +straightened his hat again before replying, thus +gaining time to cast a shrewd eye over the appearance +of the questioner. He was one of those excellent +back-country farmers who regard every +stranger with suspicion, and do not like to be hurried +into speech.</p> +<p class="pnext">“That road,” he said at length, “goes to the +City—thirty miles. Going to walk it, stranger?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Which way are you going?”</p> +<p class="pnext">The farmer jerked his head in the direction of +Frederickstown.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Will you let me go with you?” asked the boy, +feeling nervously in his pocket. “I cannot pay you +much, but I will gladly give you what I can.” He +pulled the last coin out of his pocket, and looked at +it uncertainly as if he were not at all sure how much +it was. “I will give you twenty-five cents.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That’s all right. Keep your money, young +feller, and get in if you want to. I’ll be glad of +yer company.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The boy looked surprised and grateful, and without +wasting any more words, clambered up to the +hard wooden seat, and settled himself beside the +farmer.</p> +<p class="pnext">The road was rough, the wheels were rimmed +with iron, and the board seat joggled unmercifully, +so that the boy found it hard to answer his neighbor’s +endless questions without biting his tongue in two; +moreover, now that he was sitting down, after +walking almost steadily since early morning, he +found himself almost too tired to think; but he tried +to be civil, since it seemed that if his companion +was kind enough to refuse payment, the least he +could do was to gratify his curiosity.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Where might you be goin’, now?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“My uncle lives in Frederickstown. His name +is Lambert. Mr. Peter Lambert.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That so? I know Mr. Lambert. Well, I took +you for a furriner.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I am not a foreigner.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Not but that you don’t talk good English, only +sort of care-ful like. Like it wasn’t yer natural +langwidge. What part of the country might yer +be from, now?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I have never been in this country before. My +father, who—who was Mr. Lambert’s brother-in-law, +was a sailor, captain, also a trader. I don’t belong +to any country. I have come back to work with +my uncle, because my father is dead, and I have no +other relatives.” The boy explained this in a dry, +precise way, as if it were an answer that he had +already had to make many times.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well! I’ll be!” exclaimed the farmer, much +interested. “And what might yer name be, young +feller?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Paul Winkler.”</p> +<p class="pnext">After a short pause, during which Paul fervently +hoped that the catechism was over, his companion +asked again.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And why was you askin’ me where that other +road went to?”</p> +<p class="pnext">The boy smiled, and shook his head.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t know.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Jes’ for curiosity?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hum. How old might you be?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Seventeen.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yer a well grown lad for yer years. I should +have taken yer to be older.”</p> +<p class="pnext">This time Paul broke the silence that followed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What is the City like?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Like? Why like any other city. Lots of +houses, lots of streets, lots of people, lots of +noise. I’m a countryman myself, and don’t have +much hankerin’ for the big towns. Though there’s +my son now, my second boy, he can’t stand the +farm. No, he has to be off to the city. I suppose +that’s the way all you youngsters are feeling nowadays. +What you’re after is always somewhere different +from where the Lord put you. Opportunity—that’s +what my boy’s forever chatterin’ +about—you got to get where you have opportunities. +I says to him, ‘Well, Tom, what is it ye’re +after?’ ‘Independence, Dad,’ says he, ‘Like +George Washington.’ ‘A good thing,’ says I. +‘And what do ye call independence?’ Well, sir, +we argue away for hours, and for the life of me I +can’t see that he ain’t just about the most <em class="italics">de</em>pendant +feller I know. No sir, when ye live the +sort of life I live ye get plenty time to think, and I +tell ye when ye sift down to rock bottom just what +ye <em class="italics">do</em> want, and don’t dress it up in a lot of fine +words, ye find that there’s precious little as really +matters to ye, that ye can’t get without having to +trot all over the country after it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Notwithstanding his companion’s challenging +tone, and evident eagerness for further discussion, +Paul made no reply to this speech.</p> +<p class="pnext">They had now gained the top of a hill; and at +last the comfortable lights of Frederickstown +shone through the dusk.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There ye are,” said the farmer pointing ahead +with his whip, “and I’ve no doubt it’s a glad sight +to ye, youngster. Have ye walked far?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Fifteen miles, I think.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Fifteen miles! Pretty hungry, eh?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Did ye come across the water alone?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No. There was a friend of my father’s travelling +to this country also. I left him last night.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Now the wagon was jolting over the cobblestones, +jarring every bone in Paul’s weary body. +And, he was so hungry! All at once he caught the +odor of spices, of fresh ginger-bread—such a +friendly smell, such a homey, domestic smell, +that made you think of a warm hearth, and familiar +faces—</p> +<p class="pnext">The horse stopped.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, young man, I guess we part now.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul felt as if he were asleep. He climbed stiffly +out of the cart, shook the friendly, horny paw +that his erstwhile companion thrust out, and tried +to mutter his thanks. The wagon rumbled away +up the street—and here he was.</p> +<p class="pnext">He stood in the shelter of the quaint wooden +balcony which extended from the second story of +the Lambert’s dwelling out over the pavement. In +front of him the light shone cheerily through the +bakeshop window. Somehow, he rather dreaded to +go up and knock at the door. Suppose that after +all it was the wrong place? Suppose that no one +knew that he was coming? Or, suppose that they +wouldn’t believe he was Paul Winkler?</p> +<hr class="docutils"/> +<p class="pfirst">“So the prince took his knife and cut the third +of the golden apples in half, and to his astonishment—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Janey, <em class="italics">who</em> is that talking to your father?” +demanded Granny, opening her eyes suddenly.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane stopped and listened. Granny’s room was +directly over the dining room, and sounds carried +easily through the thin walls of the old house.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t know, Granny,” said Jane. “Nobody in +particular, I guess.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But the old lady felt nervously for her stick.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Heavens! It <em class="italics">couldn’t</em> be—Janey, just run to +the head of the stairs and see. Minie, darling, do +you see Granny’s stick? Run, Janey—just peep +over.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But the door of the dining room was half closed, +and Janey, hanging over the bannister, had to wait +several moments before she caught a glimpse of +the stranger, whose low voice occasionally interrupted +her father’s eloquent talk.</p> +<p class="pnext">“My dear boy, we will go into this at length, +later this evening. I see that you are tired now. +You say you <em class="italics">walked</em> from Allenboro?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It was necessary. I did not discover that my +money had been stolen until after I left the ship.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Did Mr. Morse know of your misfortune?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No. I did not tell him.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Then Jane caught her first glimpse of the speaker, +as he took a step back toward the fireplace, and +into her line of vision through the half opened door.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s <em class="italics">Paul</em>!” The thought flashed across her +mind instantly. Her first impression of her new +cousin was disappointing. Though such matters +rarely counted for much with Jane, she was really +shocked by the shabbiness of his appearance; for +covered as he was with mud, his ill-fitting, outworn +clothes made him look like a veritable ragamuffin. +But it was not this so much as his whole bearing +and expression that displeased her. There was +something both sullen and stubborn in his face, +which, combined with lines of weariness and +hunger, made him seem much older than he really +was, and decidedly unattractive. And she had been +so sure that she was going to like her new cousin; +she had pictured him as a jolly, ruddy, lively boy +who would probably enter heart and soul into her +enjoyments; someone with whom you could make +friends in five minutes; whereas unsociability was +stamped on every feature of <em class="italics">this</em> boy’s sallow, unsmiling +face.</p> +<p class="pnext">Just then the sharp tapping of Granny’s cane +resounded through the corridor. The old lady’s +singular impatience to know who the stranger was, +had not allowed her to wait for Jane’s tardy report. +With her cap askew, she appeared at the +head of the stairs.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Who is it? Who is it?” she demanded, almost +breathlessly. “Stand aside, child.” And without +waiting for a reply, she descended the stairs with +wonderful rapidity, marched to the dining room +door, and flung it open.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Peter! Gertrude!” she blinked nervously into +the room, where only the firelight illumined the +two figures in the dusk. Then she stared into +Paul’s face. It was only a moment before her uncertainty +disappeared.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I knew it! I knew it!” she cried. “Peter +Lambert, why didn’t you tell me? Ah, heaven’s! +My dear boy, <em class="italics">I</em> am your old Granny!” And weeping +from sheer joy, she unhesitatingly flung her +arms around his neck and kissed him.</p> +<p class="pnext">A few moments later the entire family had collected +to welcome the newcomer. The twins with +their round blue eyes fastened on him gravely, +clung to their mother, who kissed him warmly, +exclaimed over his size, and at once began to +worry affectionately about his wet clothes. Elise +greeted him with her usual gentle, modest smile, +Carl with a patronizing, “How do you do, +cousin?” and a keen glance, as if he were “sizing +up” an opponent of some sort.</p> +<p class="pnext">During these proceedings Paul looked utterly +bewildered, and exceedingly awkward, as if he +could not believe that all these good people who +were smiling at him, shaking hands with him, and +asking him if he were tired, were really his family. +All that interested him was the fact that he smelt +supper cooking.</p> +<p class="pnext">Last of all to welcome him was Jane, who had +stood aside, watching him intently; and it was he +who turned to her, and with the polite smile that he +had forced for the occasion, held out his hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">“How do you do, cousin?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“How do you do, cousin Paul?” repeated Jane +decorously.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane was not over impulsive, and she had not +yet made up her mind as to the degree of liking +she felt for this tall, reticent youth, this sober, +chilly, self-assured boy, whom Destiny had now +placed at the head of the House of Winkler.</p> +<!-- File: 071.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-vpaul-hesitates"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id6">CHAPTER V—PAUL HESITATES</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">“Poor child, you are dripping wet! You’ll catch +your death of cold!” cried Mrs. Lambert, noticing +Paul’s state for the first time. “What can I be +thinking of! You must have a hot bath and some +dry things at once. Carl, take Paul up to your +room, dear, and see that he makes himself <em class="italics">very</em> +comfortable. I must see to supper. You must be +starving, too!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Accordingly, Carl undertook his duties as host +as hospitably as he could, and Paul followed him +upstairs.</p> +<p class="pnext">In a moment or two Carl returned, wearing the +prim expression of one who would like to express +his opinion, and is merely waiting to be asked, and +at length, one by one, the family began, naturally +enough, to discuss the impression that the newcomer +had made on them, severally. The criticisms +were very kindly, but at the same time, it soon became +clear that so far no one felt any great enthusiasm +for the stranger. His curt manner had hurt +his aunt and his grandmother, who had been so +eager in their welcome to the fatherless boy, and +had irritated Mr. Lambert. The short, brusque +answers he had given to the endless kindly questions +with which he had been plied, had discouraged the +well-meant, and very natural curiosity of his relatives, +and had made them feel rather uncomfortable.</p> +<p class="pnext">Grandmother Winkler and Mrs. Lambert +staunchly insisted that the poor boy was only lonely +and unhappy; but down in their hearts they had +been sadly disappointed in Franz’s son. Elise also +ranged herself in his defense, feeling that any disapproval, +expressed or unexpressed, of the new head +of the clan, was a form of treason.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Think how you would feel, Carl,” she said, “if +you had lost your father, and had landed in a +strange country among strangers—for after all we +<em class="italics">are</em> strangers to Paul.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That’s all right,” returned Carl, “I could understand +it if he were just gloomy. But I don’t see +any reason why he has to be downright disagreeable.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be disagreeable, +my dear,” said Mrs. Lambert.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, we mustn’t lose any time in getting the +boy settled down to his work,” said Mr. Lambert. +“That will take his mind off his own troubles. I +shall have a talk with him after supper.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I shook hands with him, and said I was glad +to see him, and he just stared at me as if I were +a—a fish,” went on Carl, still dwelling on his own +grievances. “I know he’s here to stay, and I’ll try +to get on with him, though I’ll tell you right now, +it’s not going to be an easy job. And I hope to +goodness I won’t have to room with him permanently, +mother. Can’t you find somewhere to put +him? Can’t you—” Carl broke off abruptly, reddening, +for at that moment Paul entered the +room. He was scrubbed and brushed, and, dressed +in Mr. Lambert’s summer suit, looked vastly +better than the young tramp who had entered their +midst an hour before. Unfortunately he had overheard +Carl’s remark, and his expression had +changed from one that was almost friendly to the +stony, immobile look that absolutely altered the +whole character of his face. The cozy family +scene in the dining room, where now the table had +been set, and the lamp lighted, and where the firelight +shone upon the faces of three generations, +from Granny to little Minie, had done much to +make Paul feel that he would be happy after all +among these simple, happy people—until his quick +ears caught Carl’s unkind remark.</p> +<p class="pnext">Only Jane had seen the look that showed he had +overheard; but everyone felt that he had, and an +awkward little silence followed his entrance, during +which Elise glanced at her brother in distress, +and Mrs. Lambert struggled to think of something +to say that would mend matters a little. But Carl +met his cousin’s eyes defiantly, and from that moment +the tacit hostility of the two boys was sealed.</p> +<p class="pnext">So Paul, who had been on the verge of thawing +a little, had frozen up again. He concluded immediately +that <em class="italics">everyone</em> disliked him, and like +many sensitive people, instead of attempting to +overcome this imagined dislike, he carefully hid all +that was winning in his nature, under his cold, unsympathetic +manner. He even fancied that his +aunt’s affectionate little attentions were only assumed +to hide her real feelings. Poor Aunt +Gertrude! No one in the world was less capable +of insincerity than she, and her gentle heart ached +over the forlorn, taciturn youth.</p> +<p class="pnext">Supper was a decidedly uncomfortable meal; +and Paul, who had felt that he could have eaten +the proverbial fatted calf, found it difficult to +swallow a mouthful. During the journey there +had been too much to occupy him, too many difficulties +and strange events for him to think much +about the abrupt change that had taken place in +his life; but now, as he sat with his eyes on his +plate, in the midst of these strange faces, he felt +as if the bottom had dropped out of everything. +A perfect wave of depression engulfed him, and +all he wished for was to get off by himself.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, my boy, are you too tired to have a little +talk?” asked Mr. Lambert, at length pushing back +his chair.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, sir,” muttered Paul, curtly, thinking to +himself, “I don’t suppose that they want to have +me on their hands any longer than is necessary.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Children, you may prepare your lessons in your +own rooms to-night. Well, Paul, suppose you and +I get over here into my corner,” suggested Mr. +Lambert, walking across to his desk. “Sit down.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul sat down, folded his hands in his lap, and +fixed his eyes attentively on the window. The rain +still rattled on the glass panes, and the wind banged +the shutters, and moaned through the leafless +trees.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I am only going to acquaint you with the wishes +which your father—my poor brother—expressed +in a recent letter,” began Mr. Lambert, rummaging +through his orderly pigeon-holes. “It might be best +for you to read it for yourself.” But Paul declined +the letter with a gesture.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah, well,” said Mr. Lambert, replacing the +poor, blotted sheets in the envelope, “I don’t want +to pain you, my dear boy, and I would not touch +on the subject at all, if I did not feel that it were +best for you to find something to occupy your +thoughts at this time.” He paused, but as Paul did +not seem to think it necessary to make any reply, +he continued:</p> +<p class="pnext">“You must understand how deeply I am interested +in your affairs. Er—how old are you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Seventeen, sir.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Seventeen? I should have thought you were +older. But seventeen is not an age of childhood, +and in any event I feel that you are fully capable of +assuming the responsibilities which must fall upon +you as the only—living—male descendant—of—the +Winkler Family.” Mr. Lambert uttered these +last words with an impressiveness that cannot be +described. Paul looked up, suddenly interested, +and with a wary, defensive expression.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No doubt your father acquainted you with his +wishes?”</p> +<!-- File: 076.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“My father told me to come to you, and that +you would help me,” said Paul.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Help you? Indeed I will help you. I would +help you in any event because you are my nephew, +and blood runs thicker than water, my boy. Always +remember that. But believe me, it is not +family duty alone that impels me to give you all +the assistance I can,—I feel that you are a young +man who is <em class="italics">worthy</em>—worthy to enter upon the +duties of your position.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul was puzzled. He could not understand +these allusions to his “position,” and his “responsibilities.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Never hesitate to come to me for any advice. +Do not allow little discouragements to overwhelm +you,” continued Mr. Lambert. “Your aunt, of +course, will be your real teacher—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“My <em class="italics">aunt</em>?” echoed Paul, completely bewildered. +“I don’t understand—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah,” said Mr. Lambert, smiling, “perhaps you +are not familiar with the traditions of your family. +Then, I will tell you; your great-great-grandfather, +on your father’s side, Johann Winkler, was, +as you surely know, the founder of this Bakery. +He was, moreover, the inventor of certain delicacies +which have made it famous, and which cannot +possibly be made by any other baker in this +country—in the world, I may say. It was his wish +that the fruits of his labors should be the heritage +of his descendants, and that only those who bore +the name of Winkler, should learn the secret +recipes by which those cakes are mixed. A moment’s +thought will make it clear to you that you +are the next in line to be initiated into these secrets, +which are sealed from me, and my children. In a +word, you are the only living heir to this business. +Your aunt, of course, is the present proprietor, and +she and she alone can instruct you in the work in +which you must follow her.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul was speechless, and Mr. Lambert, mistaking +his astonished silence, for a calm acceptance of +what he had said, now drew forth a large parchment +from a drawer of his desk, and spread it out +with a pompous air.</p> +<p class="pnext">“This, my boy, is the family tree of the Winklers, +which establishes your claim to your inheritance. +Here, you see—” his broad forefinger began +to trace the branches, “Johann Winkler had +two sons, Frederick and Samuel. Frederick, the +elder had two sons, also Samuel and Johann. In +this case, the younger became the Baker, and Samuel +became a hardware merchant in Missouri. +Thus, Johann was the father of your Aunt Gertrude, +and <em class="italics">your</em> father, who also relinquished his +inheritance, like Esau—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But what of Samuel’s children?” stammered +Paul. “Maybe he has a son or a grandson—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“However that may be they have forfeited their +claims,” replied Mr. Lambert. “No, you need +have no fears of any disputes, my boy. Surely, +your father must have acquainted you with all +these matters which relate to you so closely.”</p> +<!-- File: 078.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“My father never even mentioned anything of +the sort!” exclaimed Paul, pushing back his chair, +as if he were thinking of sudden flight.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I need hardly tell you that you are doubly welcome, +my dear boy,” continued Mr. Lambert +placidly, totally misunderstanding Paul’s astonishment.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But, sir! One moment! I don’t understand! +You surely can’t mean that you think I am going to +learn how to <em class="italics">bake bread</em>, and make <em class="italics">pies</em>!” burst +out Paul at last. “Great heavens! My father +couldn’t have dreamed—<em class="italics">I</em>! Making biscuits!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And why not, pray?” demanded Mr. Lambert, +sharply. “Am I to understand that you consider +yourself too good for a profession that the great +Johann Winkler thought worthy of his genius? +Is it that you do not consider it <em class="italics">manly</em>? Surely, +you do not mean me to understand this?” Mr. +Lambert’s face hardened a little; the expression of +bland benevolence left his eyes, which now grew +cold and piercing. He had not expected rebellion, +but recovering quickly from his surprise he prepared +to cope with it as only he could.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Of course I don’t mean that, sir!” exclaimed +Paul. “But don’t you see—I can’t—I’m not fitted +for such work. I couldn’t learn how to bake a pie +in a life time. I—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I am sure you underrate your intelligence, +my boy. Don’t give way to discouragement so +soon. A little patience, a little industry—”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul began to laugh, almost hysterically. Even +in the midst of his serious anxiety, the idea of +himself demurely kneading dough was too much +for his gravity.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But I’d poison everyone in town in twenty-four +hours! Bake bread! Rolls! Tarts! Sir, I could +far more easily learn how to trim hats!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t doubt it. Any silly schoolgirl can learn +that. I freely admit that the art of a great baker +is not readily acquired. I admit that in some measure +it requires an inborn gift, and a gift that is by +no means a common one. Great cooks are far +rarer, believe me, than great orators, or great +artists, although the world in general does not +rank them as it should. There was a time when a +fine pastry or a sauce composed with genius called +forth the applause of kings, and when eminent +bakers were honored by the noblest in the land. +But to-day, through the ignorance and indifference +of the world, the profession is fallen in value, because, +forsooth, it is fancied that it caters to the +less noble tastes of mankind. My dear boy, it is +for you, in whose veins flows the blood of the King +of Bakers, to maintain the fame and dignity of +your profession. Do not imagine that you lack the +gift. It has lain idle, but a little practice will soon +prove that it is in your possession.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul, feeling that he had come up against a wall +of adamant, got up and began to pace the floor. +Here he was with exactly twenty-five cents in his +pocket, without even a suit of clothes that deserved +the name, without a friend within three thousand +miles, nor the faintest idea of where he could go, +if he rashly broke away from the family roof-tree.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It seems that you had other ideas,” remarked +Mr. Lambert in a politely interested tone, which +said, “I don’t mind <em class="italics">listening</em> to any of your fantastic +notions.” Paul hesitated. He most certainly +<em class="italics">had</em> had other ideas, and, what was more, he did +not have the slightest intention of relinquishing +them. The question was, could he lay them +simply before his uncle? One glance at Mr. Lambert’s +smooth, practical face was sufficient to make +him feel that anything of the sort was not to be +considered; certainly not at this time, in any case. +Mr. Lambert had fixed his mind on one idea, and +tenacity was his most striking characteristic. It +was his boast that he never changed his mind, and +the truth of this statement was recognized by +everyone who had any dealings with him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I should like to think over all that you have +said, Uncle Peter,” Paul at length said warily. +“All this has been very unexpected, and I don’t +know just what to say.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You mean that you are still doubtful as to +whether you will accept or reject the position, to +which Providence has called you, and which it is +plainly your Duty to accept?” inquired Mr. Lambert, +raising his eyebrows. He was surprised and +annoyed by his nephew’s resistance, but knowing +the boy’s circumstances he had no fear that Paul +would decide against his own wishes.</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul was quick to perceive this underlying +cocksureness, and his whole soul rose in rebellion.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t see that either Providence or Duty has +anything to do with the case,” he retorted, instantly +firing up.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You do not feel that you are under obligations +to your Family? I don’t like to believe that you +have so slight a sense of your responsibilities. No, +I am sure that a few moments reflection will convince +you to the contrary. By all means consider +the matter. I should, however, like to have your +answer to-night, if it is convenient for you. I +have several letters to write, and shall be here +when you have reached your decision.” And with +a curt nod, he swung around to his desk, and took +up the old-fashioned goose-quill pen, which he was +in the habit of using under the impression that it +lent him an air of business solidity.</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul, lost in thought, went up to Carl’s room +for the “few moments of reflection” that his uncle +had advised.</p> +<p class="pnext">His cousin, wearing a brown dressing gown, +with a hideous pattern of yellow fleurs-de-lis, was +sitting at the table, with a book in his hands, and +a greenshade over his nearsighted eyes, engrossed +in his studies. The two boys glanced at each other, +and nodded brusquely without speaking.</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul threw himself across the bed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Duty! Providence!” All he could see in the +matter was that he had got into a pretty kettle of +fish. “And uncle thinks that just because I’m +broke, I’ll knuckle under without a murmur.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Obligations! That was a nice thing to preach +to him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Would you mind not kicking the bed?” said +Carl’s thin, querulous voice. “It makes it rather +hard to concentrate.” This petition, uttered in a +studiedly polite tone, was accompanied by a dark +look, which this time, however, Paul failed to see.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sorry,” said Paul, gruffly, and got up.</p> +<p class="pnext">Now he began to walk the floor; but at length +stopped at the window, pressing his face to the +glass so that he could see something besides the reflection +of his cousin’s mouse-colored head, and +monotonous rocking in his chair.</p> +<p class="pnext">He peered out over the roofs of the town, up +the street, all sleek and shining with the rain, in +the direction of the cross-roads at which he had +stood, less than four hours ago. Why hadn’t he +taken the Other One, anyway? He had been perfectly +free to choose—no one had been preaching +Duty and all the rest of it to him then. He +hadn’t taken it, because he had been tired and +hungry, and almost penniless—and lonely, too, +and the farmer had turned up. Perhaps he had +been a coward. It had led to the City, where, even +if he were penniless, he would at least have been +his own master, free to work according to his own +ideas, and not Uncle Peter’s.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Would you mind not whistling!” snapped +Carl. “It’s the most maddening sound. Hang it! +I’m trying to study.”</p> +<!-- File: 083.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">Paul’s mournful whistling stopped.</p> +<p class="pnext">Baking pies! So that was to be his future, was +it? Well, he still had something to say. It wasn’t +too late to take the other road yet. He’d walk a +<em class="italics">thousand</em> miles before he would let himself be +trussed up in a canvas apron, and put to kneading +dough for the rest of his days.</p> +<p class="pnext">He glanced around for his cast off clothes, and +saw them hanging, still dismally wet over a chair. +But not even the cheerless prospect of a clammy +shirt dampened his resolution. He began to fling +off his dry clothing, sending collar, necktie, socks +and shoes flying in all directions.</p> +<p class="pnext">Presently Carl, aroused by the commotion, put +down his book. Then he stared in astonishment, +at the sight of his cousin rapidly climbing into the +soaking, muddy garments. But he felt that it was +not in keeping with the dignity he had assumed, +to inquire into the reasons for this strange proceeding. +All he said was,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Would you mind not shaking that mud over +my things?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Without replying, Paul shouldered his ridiculous +bundle, felt in his pocket to make sure that his +quarter was still there, and marched out of the +room, down the stairs, and to the door.</p> +<p class="pnext">Then it occurred to him that this abrupt departure, +without a word of farewell to anyone was +rather a shabby way of returning the hospitality +he had received, and he hesitated.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, if I don’t get out now, it’ll mean a lot +of argument and explanation. I could write a +note.” But he had no paper, and he did not want +to go back to Carl’s room. So there he stood uneasily +enough, wriggling in his damp clothes, and +glancing uncertainly toward the closed door of the +dining room behind which his uncle sat waiting for +his decision. Overhead, he heard the low murmur +of his aunt’s voice, and the thudding of the twins’ +little bare feet as they romped and squealed in a +pillow fight. Paul felt his resolution waver, and +then anger at his own weakness steadied his determination. +He opened the door, strode out, and +pulled it to quietly behind him.</p> +<p class="pnext">A wild gust of wind nearly robbed him of his +breath, and made him stagger. The rain had +gathered up its forces, and now came down in a +solid sheet, swept this way and that by the wind.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Whew!” Paul bent his head, and ploughed his +way against it, without looking to the right or to +the left. The branches groaned and tossed, creaking +as if they were being torn from the trunks of +the swaying trees.</p> +<p class="pnext">Then all at once, with a crash a dead bough fell +in front of him, missing him by not more than +fifteen inches. Paul stopped. The very elements +seemed opposed to his unmannerly flight, and again +he hesitated, looked back, and saw the friendly, +ruddy windows of the Bakery. Thirty miles in +this tempest! He smiled sheepishly, and then +frowned. His impetuousness had put him in a +very ridiculous position. His pride rebelled at the +idea of returning, and with the thought of Carl’s +smothered amusement, came the memory of his +cousin’s inhospitable speech. On the other hand, +he saw that it was no less absurd to follow up +his plan of flight, and the streak of common sense +underlying his hasty, high-handed nature told him +that it was less foolish to go back and undertake +the immediate problem that had been thrust upon +him, than to plunge himself into the serious difficulties +that his adventure would entail. And at +length, inwardly raging at his own folly, he retraced +his steps.</p> +<p class="pnext">As the dining room door opened, Mr. Lambert +looked up, started to remove his spectacles, and +then with a start, adjusted them more accurately. +Paul, who had left his cap and bundle in the hall +tried to stand in the shadow so that his clothes +would not be noticed. After a short silence, Mr. +Lambert preferring to observe nothing extraordinary +in his nephew’s appearance, folded up his +spectacles, put them in the breast pocket of his +frock coat and said, pleasantly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well? What have you decided?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul cleared his throat.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I have decided—I have decided—” he finished +by spreading his hands and shrugging his shoulders.</p> +<p class="pnext">“To undertake your—er—responsibilities?” +prompted Mr. Lambert, as if he were administering +an oath.</p> +<p class="pnext">“To learn how to bake pies,” said Paul, feebly, +and then mumbling some vague excuse he backed +out of the room, leaving Mr. Lambert to indulge +in a short chuckle.</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul hid himself in the bakeshop until he felt +reasonably sure that his cousin had gone to bed, +and then, boots in hand tiptoed shamefacedly up +to the bedroom, and began to undress in the dark. +But Carl was not asleep, and after listening to +Paul’s smothered exclamations as he struggled +with wet button holes and laces, could not resist +a polite jibe.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh,” came in interested tones from the bed, +“where did you go, cousin?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“For a walk,” replied Paul, laconically, and a +certain note in his voice warned Carl that it would +be wiser not to refer to the delicate subject again.</p> +<!-- File: 087.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-via-rebel-in-the-house"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id7">CHAPTER VI—A REBEL IN THE HOUSE</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">“You take a tablespoonful of butter, a pound of +sugar, half a teaspoonful each of cinnamon and +all-spice, a pound of raisins, and a cupful of molasses,” +said Aunt Gertrude timidly, reading from +the yellowed pages of the century-old book of +recipes, in which were traced in brown ink, and in +the quaint, tremulous handwriting of old Johann +Winkler himself, the secret formulas of the “King +of Bakers.” Then she closed the book.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And now, my dear, I have to show you the +rest.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul submitted to his instructions meekly +enough but nevertheless his aunt felt singularly at +a loss with this strange pupil on her hands, and +she had her own grave doubts as to whether the +culinary genius of the Winklers really lay dormant +in him at all.</p> +<p class="pnext">On that bright, windy afternoon, aunt and +nephew were closeted in the room off the kitchen, +which was called the Mixing Room. It was +here that the book of recipes was kept, and here +that the bread and cakes were mixed, according +to the time-honored tradition of secrecy. No +one had the right of entry without Mrs. Lambert’s +permission, and that permission was never given +while she was engaged in preparing her doughs +and batters. It was a cheerful little room, snug +and warm, lined with the old, well polished cupboards +in which the tins of spices and dried fruits +and crocks of mysterious, delicious mixtures were +kept safely locked. Seated at the table, was +plump, rosy, beautiful Aunt Gertrude, full of the +importance of her business, but a trifle uncertain +of her six-foot disciple, who, shrouded in a great +white apron, and with his sleeves rolled up on his +muscular, brown arms, stood soberly measuring +out flour and sugar with hands that looked better +fitted for a lumber camp.</p> +<p class="pnext">But little by little, as the lessons progressed, +Paul became less austere; and as he unbent, Aunt +Gertrude regained her natural jollity; until she +actually dared to tease him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What a frown! You will frighten all my customers +away,” she said, gaily, peeping up into his +swarthy face. “You must practice how to look +very cheerful.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Must I? Well, how is this?” And Paul +promptly expanded his mouth into the empty grin +of a comic mask. “Only I can’t remember to grin +while I count out spoonfuls of cinnamon. It’s like +trying to pat your head and rub your stomach at +the same time.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“In a little while you won’t have to think so +hard while you are measuring your ingredients. +I do it by instinct,” said Aunt Gertrude, proudly. +And Paul smiled at her air of naive vanity.</p> +<!-- File: 089.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, <em class="italics">you</em> are a very remarkable person, Aunt +Gertrude,” he said gravely.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Tut! You mustn’t laugh at me, you impudent +boy,” said Mrs. Lambert, shaking her +head, and pretending to be severe. “You must be +<em class="italics">very</em> respectful.” But she was tremendously +pleased with herself for having discovered a vein +of gaiety in her unsociable nephew. His slight +smile, the first spontaneous expression she had +seen on his face, was like a light thrown across his +harsh, aquiline features, giving the first glimpse +that anyone of the family had seen, into the gentler +traits of his character; and Aunt Gertrude felt +that she had been right in attributing his abrupt, +ungracious manner to loneliness and depression.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now,” she said briskly, “<em class="italics">I</em> shall finish this first +batch, just to show you how it is done, and then +you must do one all by yourself. How nice it is +to have you to help me! You can’t think how I +dislike being shut up in this room for hours every +day without anyone to talk to.” Indeed, there was +nothing that Aunt Gertrude disliked more heartily +than solitude and silence. Like Jane, she +adored people in general, she loved chat and +gossip, she loved to hear all that was going on, +and could never escape too quickly to the shop, +where all day long the townspeople were running +in and out, always stopping for a short chat with +the lively, inquisitive merry proprietress.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You see, now, you have to knead this dough +<em class="italics">quite</em> vigorously,” was her next instruction, and +turning her sleeves back from her strong, white +arms, she proceeded to give a demonstration, while +Paul sat by, with his elbow on the table, resting +his head on one hand, and smiling at her <em class="italics">very</em> +vigorous treatment of the meek, flabby dough.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You’re certainly giving that poor stuff an +awful trouncing, Aunt Gertrude. Don’t you think +you ought to let up a bit?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Not at all,” returned Mrs. Lambert, seriously, +“I never let up, once I begin.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What a terrible character you are, Aunt Gertrude! +Here, do you want me to take a hand +at it?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, no,” panted Aunt Gertrude. “Now don’t +interfere. Just <em class="italics">watch</em> me.” And again she began +her pummelling with redoubled energy. The exercise +brought a deep flush to her smooth cheeks; +a lock of brown hair barely tinged with grey kept +falling over her forehead, and she kept tucking +it back with the patience of absent-mindedness.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You can’t imagine how good these cakes are, +my dear. They are my very favorites, though I +know I shouldn’t eat so many myself. I’m afraid +I’m going to be a very fat old lady.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Then we’ll put you in the window as an advertisement.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Gertrude thought this a huge joke.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But what will people think when they see you, +my dear? We’ll have to get you fatter, too. +Then people will say, ‘Do you see that fine, stout, +rosy, cheerful man? Well, once he was as thin +as a poker. Winkler’s Pastry gave him that lovely +figure.’ ”</p> +<p class="pnext">At the end of twenty minutes she had finished +kneading and rolling the dough, and with a sigh +of relief, turned to Paul.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There now, you see exactly how it is done, +don’t you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">But Paul did not answer. With a stub of charcoal +which he had fished from his pocket, the +future baker was sketching busily on the smooth +round top of a flour barrel. Aunt Gertrude’s +mouth opened in speechless indignation.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Tut! what are you doing?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul looked up. Then, seeing Mrs. Lambert’s +face, he began to laugh.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, you told me to watch you, Aunt Gertrude. +I’ve been watching you. Why are you cross?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But is that any way to do?” demanded Mrs. +Lambert, clasping her hands with a gesture of indignant +reproach. “Here I’ve been working and +working, and there you sit, you bad boy—what +are you drawing?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Here her curiosity got the better of her annoyance, +and she peered over his shoulder. The hasty +sketch, which had been executed with a skill that +Aunt Gertrude could not fully appreciate, showed +a woman with her arms in a basin of dough—Aunt +Gertrude herself, in fact. In arrangement, and +in the freedom and vigor of every line, the rough +picture gave evidence of really exceptional talent. +Aunt Gertrude tried to look like a connoisseur.</p> +<!-- File: 092.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Now, that is very clever. Where did you +learn to make pictures?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t know.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Then Aunt Gertrude, suddenly remembering +the business in hand, put on a severe expression.</p> +<p class="pnext">“That is all very well; but what have you +learned to-day from me? Nothing! I have +wasted my time! Oh, you are—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“There, Aunt Gertrude,—I know all about +those old cakes. Please just let me—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Old cakes, indeed!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Beautiful, wo-onderful cakes, then. Please +just let me finish this, like a nice good aunt. And +then, I’ll tell you what—I’ll finish it in colors, and +I’ll give it to you. You haven’t any idea how +lovely you are to draw, Aunt Gertrude—you’re so +nice and round.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Gertrude tried not to simper; she was as +susceptible to flattery as a girl of sixteen, and +found it impossible to resist even when she knew +perfectly that she was being cozened.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What nonsense!” But nonetheless she resumed +her position at the bowl of dough again, +and Paul chatted artfully, to distract her thoughts +from his lesson in cooking, while he hastily completed +the sketch.</p> +<p class="pnext">From that afternoon on, there was no longer +the slightest shadow of constraint between aunt +and nephew. But Paul was very slow to drop his +aloof curt manner with the rest of the family, +and except for Mrs. Lambert and Granny none +of them had penetrated his shell.</p> +<p class="pnext">Carl had by no means lost his dislike of his +cousin, and indeed he was not entirely to blame. +To begin with he inspired Paul with an uncontrollable +desire to annoy him, and when he felt like +it, Paul had a perfect genius for irritating people. +He had found all the joints in Carl’s armour, and +he took a thoroughly infuriating delight in probing +him in every unguarded spot. Every now and +again, Carl would adopt a peculiar, affected accent +in his speech, and would use very grand language; +then Paul would mimic him perfectly gravely, until +Carl was fairly writhing with suppressed rage. +Again, Carl was rather given to boasting about himself +in an indirect way, and Paul would promptly +cap these little bursts of vanity with some outrageous +story about <em class="italics">himself</em>, making himself out +the hero of some high-flown adventure, and +modestly describing his own feats of strength +until Carl, who could not decide whether his +cousin was serious or slyly making fun of him, +came at length to the opinion that Paul was the +most insufferable braggart that ever lived. He +was particularly vulnerable on this point, because +he had, secretly, a great admiration of physical +strength and courage, and Paul’s superiority to him +in these qualities had much to do with his dislike.</p> +<p class="pnext">As the weeks went on, the twins were next to +lose their timidity with their strange cousin. He +teased them fearfully, and tweaked their yellow +pig-tails, and told them they looked like a pair of +little butter balls; but on Saturday nights, while +Elise read “Ivanhoe” aloud, and the family gathered +around the big fireplace in the dining room, +he used to make them the most wonderful paper +dolls, beautifully drawn and colored, and in the +greatest variety; mediæval ladies and knights, +brigands, Italian and Rumanian peasants, and +hosts of comic ones; until Minie and Lottie finally +came to regard him as quite the most enchanting +and remarkable member of the family.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane, however, was still neutral; she neither +liked nor disliked him, and was perfectly indifferent +as to whether he liked or disliked her.</p> +<p class="pnext">And meanwhile, under Aunt Gertrude’s guidance, +he struggled, more manfully than successfully +with the difficult art of baking cakes and +bread. It cannot be said that he showed the +slightest signs of the gift which Mr. Lambert believed +that Johann Winkler had bequeathed to all +his descendants; and so far not one of his attempts +had been fit to go into the shop. His bread was as +heavy as lead, his rolls were like sticks of dynamite, +his cakes invariably scorched, or had too +much baking soda in them.</p> +<p class="pnext">Notwithstanding the fact that he really tried +hard to learn, as much to please his aunt as for +any other reason, and cheerfully rose before daylight +on those wintry mornings to knead his dough, +and see that the ovens were properly heated, Mr. +Lambert chose to believe that his nephew was +deliberately trying <em class="italics">not</em> to be successful; and seeing +in Paul’s repeated failures a sly rebellion against +his plans, he became more and more out of +humour with the boy.</p> +<p class="pnext">“See here, young man, how long is this business +going to go on?” he demanded at length, losing +patience altogether. “All of us have got to earn +our own salt. I’m not a rich man, and I simply +can’t afford to provide for a big, strapping boy +who can’t even learn a simple trade—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“ ‘A little patience, Uncle—’ ” quoted Paul +serenely. Mr. Lambert flushed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You are impudent. Patience, indeed. I have +been patient. But I feel that it is high time that +you proved yourself in earnest, or at least told +me frankly whether you intend to make yourself +of some use or not.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul thought for a moment, then he said slowly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Uncle, I <em class="italics">am</em> trying to learn this confounded +business. There is no use in getting angry with +me—it isn’t my fault if I don’t succeed. Ask Aunt +Gertrude whether I’ve worked hard or not. But +I don’t want to be a burden to you—you’ve been +very kind, and I should hate to feel that you think +I’m simply sponging on you. If you aren’t satisfied +with me, please just say so.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, come now, my boy, there’s nothing to take +offense about,” said Mr. Lambert hastily, changing +his tactics immediately. “It merely occurred +to me that <em class="italics">you</em> were not satisfied, and to urge you, +if that is the case, to speak out frankly.”</p> +<!-- File: 096.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">Paul hesitated. During the last three or four +weeks he had been repeatedly on the point of coming +to an understanding with his uncle, and had +put it off, certain that it would not be an “understanding” +at all, but simply a good old-fashioned +row. There was not one chance in a hundred that +Mr. Lambert could be made to understand his +ideas or sympathize with them in the least, and +Paul, financially, as well as in other ways, was too +helpless to struggle just then. At the same time, +it had occurred to him, that from one point of +view, he was not acting fairly. He was ashamed +of accepting Mr. Lambert’s hospitality when, +plainly, it was extended to him only on the condition +that he conformed with Mr. Lambert’s +wishes, and when he had not the slightest intention +of fulfilling his uncle’s desires.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s a pretty shabby trick, and cowardly too, to +live here until I get ready to do what I want, when +all of them are depending on my being a fixture. +It would be better to put the whole business up to +uncle, and stand my ground openly. Then, if he +wants to kick me out, he can.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul reached this decision in the pause that followed +Mr. Lambert’s last remark, during which +his uncle eyed him narrowly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I see that you are deliberating,” said Mr. Lambert, +coldly. “Again let me urge you to be frank.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Very well, sir. I will!” declared Paul impetuously. +“I’ll be telling you very little more than +I told you when I first came. I can never learn to +be a baker. You can see that for yourself. And +what’s more, it isn’t as if I hadn’t tried. I don’t +want charity, and I thought that if for a while I +could be of some help to Aunt Gertrude, it might +be one way of paying for my board and lodging. +And that’s why—whatever you may think—I’ve +done my best to learn how to make all this stuff. +But it’s no use. I never can be a baker, and <em class="italics">I +don’t want to be a baker</em>!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah!” said Mr. Lambert, leaning back in his +chair. “I thought that was how the land lay.” +He was silent for a moment, and then, carefully +plucking a thread from the buttonhole in his +lapel, he inquired.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And what <em class="italics">do</em> you want to be?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I want to be—” (“Here’s where the music +starts,” thought Paul), “I want to be a painter.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert looked as if a cannon had suddenly +been discharged in his ear. For fully thirty +seconds he was quite speechless; then pulling himself +together, he articulated,</p> +<p class="pnext">“A <em class="italics">what</em>?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“A painter,” Paul repeated.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you mean a house-painter, or—” here Mr. +Lambert raised his eyes to the ceiling as if invoking +the mercy of the gods upon this benighted +youth, “or an <em class="italics">artist</em>?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m afraid I mean an artist, sir.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“A person who,” Mr. Lambert went through +a tragic pantomime of painting in the air, “who +paints <em class="italics">pictures</em>?”</p> +<!-- File: 098.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Yes,” said Paul briefly.</p> +<p class="pnext">There was a long pause while Mr. Lambert +struggled to assimilate this preposterous idea. At +last a tolerant, half-pitying smile spread over his +features.</p> +<p class="pnext">“My dear boy, we all have foolish notions in our +youth. You will get over this nonsense. Meanwhile, +be so good as never to mention it to me again.” +And without another word, he left the room.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well!” said Paul aloud, “I certainly didn’t +accomplish much. Where do I stand, anyhow?” +Again the picture of the cross-roads rose in his +mind, again the thought of the city.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Here I am, just because I didn’t have the <em class="italics">nerve</em> +to make a break for the other direction,” he +thought bitterly, recalling his ignominious attempt +at flight, “because I was afraid of being cold and +hungry, and now, I’m in a worse fix than I was +before.” For while he cared very little about his +uncle’s opinions, he had grown to love his aunt, +and the thought of disappointing her hopes +troubled him deeply.</p> +<p class="pnext">Well, at least his uncle knew his intentions. If +he did not choose to regard them seriously, that +was his own affair. Paul decided to let matters +take their own course for a while.</p> +<p class="pnext">Now, as a matter of fact, Mr. Lambert considered +his nephew’s declaration a great deal more +seriously than he appeared to. He knew just +enough about people to realize quite clearly that +there was a good likelihood of Paul’s <em class="italics">not</em> getting +over his absurd notions; but he was quite determined +that they should be suppressed with a firm +hand. He made no reference whatever to their +conversation, and continued to act as if Paul’s +expostulation had never been uttered, but at the +same time he was keenly alert to note any further +symptoms that Paul still harbored his outlandish, +preposterous, ridiculous, and treasonable idea.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was not long before he discovered that these +symptoms were very alarming indeed.</p> +<p class="pnext">One Sunday afternoon early in December, he +returned from a two days’ trip to Allenboro to +find his family gathered in the dining room, indulging +in a general spirit of gaiety, which in Mr. +Lambert’s opinion was exceedingly out of place on +the Sabbath. He was strongly persuaded in favor +of the most rigid observation of Sunday, not as a +day of rest, but of strenuous inactivity. All out of +door games were forbidden, any books not of the +most serious character were sternly prohibited, and +laughter was frowned upon by the worthy old +merchant, who ruled his household with a rod of +iron. Furthermore, he had not accomplished all +that he had wished at Allenboro, and he was in no +very genial humour to begin with. What were his +feelings, therefore, when, appearing in the doorway, +tall and formidable in his burly overcoat, and +wide-brimmed black felt hat, he discovered his +family enjoying themselves in defiance of every +rule of Sabbath decorum and solemnity.</p> +<p class="pnext">The twins were popping corn over the fire, +Granny was <em class="italics">knitting</em>! While over by the window, +Elise, Jane and Aunt Gertrude were grouped +around Paul, all talking at once, and apparently in +great excitement. What they were talking about, +and exclaiming over, Mr. Lambert did not know. +The window shade was run up as far as it would +go, admitting the wintry twilight, and under the +window, propped against the back of a chair was +an object which looked like the top of a flour barrel. +Paul, evidently in a most unfamiliarly happy and +animated frame of mind, was talking vivaciously.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You see, if I only had some decent colors! But +it’s not so bad, either. What it needs, now—” +here he broke off abruptly, as Mr. Lambert, with +a loud, and threatening “Ha-hum!” announced his +presence.</p> +<p class="pnext">Everyone turned around with as much consternation, +as if they had been caught conspiring to rob +a bank, and blank, guilty silence fell over the room.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah!” said Mr. Lambert. He allowed his displeasure +to show very plainly in his face, through +the chilly smile with which he received his wife’s +timid kiss.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Elise, will you take my coat?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You are cold, Peter. Do get warm, while I +see about supper,” said Aunt Gertrude hastily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But I am anxious to see what it is that interests +you all so much,” said Mr. Lambert, walking over +to the window. Paul, with a rather defiant expression, +stepped aside to allow his uncle a full +view of the picture.</p> +<!-- File: 101.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“You have been painting? My dear boy, you +must know that I cannot allow you to indulge in +such frivolous pastimes on this day of the week,” +said Mr. Lambert calmly. “Gertrude, I am surprised +that you allowed this infringement of our +rules.” Poor Aunt Gertrude blushed red under +this reproof, and stammered like a school-girl.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But, Peter, I didn’t know—you never said—”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert checked her with a slight gesture; +then adjusting his glasses, leant forward to inspect +the painting, while Paul, with his hand on his hip, +looked dreamily out of the window. Granny, who +was rather deaf, had been very little disturbed, and +went on brazenly with her knitting. Elise had +hastened out to the kitchen to help her mother; +but Jane, intensely interested in the proceedings, +stood her ground, looking keenly from Paul’s face +to her father’s.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You have been painting your aunt, I see,” remarked +Mr. Lambert, presently. “It seems to me +that an occupation more suitable to the Sabbath +could have been found.” He looked at the picture +closely. Ignorant as he was of anything concerning +the fine arts, he felt that the painting was +far from being merely a school-boyish production; +and, in fact, the very skill it revealed increased his +determination to put an end to his nephew’s efforts +once and for all. He did not overlook the fact +that in lieu of proper materials Paul had made a +surprisingly successful use of a piece of raw wood, +and a few mediocre oil paints—a rather bad sign, +in Mr. Lambert’s opinion, showing as it did, a +dangerous tendency to surmount difficulties. +Moreover, it seemed to him that the whole thing +showed a stubborn, deliberate disobedience to his +orders. He was very angry, too angry to act with +tact and good judgment.</p> +<p class="pnext">Straightening up, with a flush showing on his +cheekbones, he said abruptly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I thought I had expressed myself clearly to +you before; but evidently I did not make myself +understood. I cannot and I will not have you +wasting your time on this tom-foolery. While you +are in my house, you must obey my orders implicitly, +do you understand?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You only told me not to—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t argue with me, sir! I will not tolerate +your disrespect! Let it be enough for you that +I forbid—I <em class="italics">forbid</em> your idling over this useless +and childish nonsense.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Without a word, Paul began to gather together +his few brushes and tubes of paint, but when he +started to leave the room with his picture, Mr. +Lambert stopped him peremptorily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Leave those things just where they were, +please.” Paul did as he was told.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You’ll throw them out, uncle?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Kindly learn to obey without asking questions!”</p> +<p class="pnext">All that day, Jane had seen her cousin gay, full +of good spirits, utterly unlike the moody, disagreeable +boy that he had been for so long; but now the +old, hard, obdurate expression came into his face.</p> +<!-- File: 103.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“These things are mine, uncle,” he said, quietly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Indeed? The top of that flour barrel?” inquired +Mr. Lambert, pointing to the picture. +Paul hesitated for a moment, and then with a +slight shrug, put it down again on the chair.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, that is yours,” he said, and walked out of +the room.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert took the picture, looked at it for +a moment or two, as if uncertain whether it too, +were guilty of some heinous crime against his +rule; then, he took it; but instead of breaking it +in two, placed it quite carefully behind his desk.</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul did not appear at supper; but Mr. Lambert +preferred not to notice his absence. Everyone +was aware that civil war was brewing in the +household, and with varying degrees of curiosity +or anxiety, made their private conjectures as to +what the future would develop in the way of open +hostilities or amicable compromise between uncle +and nephew.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was at about half-past ten that night, that +Jane, who was rarely in bed at the prescribed time, +happened to remember that Elise had left “Ivanhoe” +on the dining room mantel piece; she felt +also, that an apple or two was just what she +wanted to subdue a certain mild emptiness. The +household was perfectly still, and so, taking off +her slippers, she stole down-stairs in her stocking +feet, to get her book, and rummage in the larder.</p> +<p class="pnext">There was still a faint glow of firelight in the +dining room.</p> +<!-- File: 104.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">Half-way to the kitchen door she stopped, arrested +by a movement in the room, and with her +heart beating violently, peered about her. Then +she saw that someone was sitting in Granny’s +chair. For a moment, she could not move a muscle, +then, mustering up her courage, she quavered,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Who—who is that?”</p> +<p class="pnext">The figure in the chair gave a violent start, +then with a little laugh Paul’s voice said,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is that you, Jane?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, <em class="italics">Paul</em>!” Jane gave a great sigh of relief.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Did I frighten you?” Paul asked, getting up.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, you <em class="italics">startled</em> me,” said Jane, who had +always maintained that she was not afraid of +ghosts or burglars—never having met a sample of +either. “What are you doing?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Nothing,” said Paul. “What are <em class="italics">you</em> doing?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I want some food,” said Jane, succinctly. +“Do you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m not very hungry. What are you going +to get?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, if there’s enough wood there to fix up +the fire a little, I could make some cocoa. It’s +awfully cold in here.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul picked up a stout log and flung it onto the +smouldering ashes, and in a few moments, a bright +flame crackled up, sending its ruddy light into +every corner of the room.</p> +<p class="pnext">Everyone is familiar with the exquisite feeling +of sympathy, which food, produced at just the +right moment, can excite between the most hostile +natures, and over their cups of cocoa, Jane and +Paul, who had never been really hostile, began to +see each other in a new light. For the first time +they talked with unguarded friendliness, and +gradually Paul became more confiding, and Jane +listened with her usual eager interest.</p> +<p class="pnext">At first he talked about his life with his father, +his wanderings, and strange adventures, without +however, the least exaggeration or the braggadocio +with which he had teased and disgusted +Carl. It was not strange that Jane, who had +never seen any part of the world save the few +square miles of earth, bounded by the hills of +Frederickstown, listened to his stories of foreign +seas and foreign lands as if she were bewitched.</p> +<p class="pnext">Never before had Paul talked to any of them +about himself or his past life; loquaciousness on +any subject was not one of his characteristics and +concerning his own affairs he had been particularly +reticent; but now it was as if he could no +longer smother down all that was pent up within +him. In the presence of his sympathetic listener, +his words now fairly tumbled over each other, +and his face grew tight and weird with earnestness +and enthusiasm.</p> +<p class="pnext">At length Jane asked him,</p> +<p class="pnext">“You don’t want to live here and take over the +business after all, do you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah, Janey, what kind of a baker would I +make?” responded Paul, smiling half-sadly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You want to be an artist?”</p> +<!-- File: 106.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. Don’t think that I expected to have +everything just as I wanted it. Naturally I knew +that I would have to work here. I have no +money. You don’t imagine that I expected +Uncle to plant me comfortably in some art school, +and support me while I went through years of +study? I planned, do you see, to work at anything +that I could make enough to repay Uncle +for boarding me, and to save a little so that in five +or six years even, I could manage to study. I +hadn’t any idea of looking for help to anyone but +myself, and as a matter of fact, I very nearly went +on to the city to look for work instead of plumping +myself on uncle. But I didn’t.—I <em class="italics">did</em> happen +to be ‘broke,’ and the city was thirty miles away, +and then I hoped that uncle would advise me. I +had no one else to turn to, and it seemed natural +to come to him. Then, when I got here, I found +that everything had been arranged for me. What +I was to do was all mapped out—for my whole +life—and I hadn’t a word to say about it. And +what was more, Uncle won’t let me mention having +plans of my own. And to-day—well, you were +here—he forbade my even playing with paints, +‘As long as I am in his house.’ Don’t think that +I am criticizing him, Janey. No doubt he is doing +exactly what he thinks is best—but what am I to +do? Will you tell me that? I’ve been sitting here +thinking and thinking, and the only answer seems +to be for me to get up and go.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane was silent.</p> +<!-- File: 107.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I <em class="italics">do</em> understand uncle’s point of view perfectly. +I was awfully angry to-day, but I’ve tried +to look at it reasonably, and I can see why it seems +like rot to him. Thousands of boys of my age +have crazy ideas about what they think they want +to do, and thousands of them think differently as +soon as they’ve got some sense. And Uncle thinks, +I guess, that I’ll do the same. If I could only <em class="italics">show</em> +him how much it means to me! If I could only +show him that I’ve got something in me besides a +lot of high-falutin notions! I <em class="italics">have</em> tried to learn +how to bake cakes. But I’ll never learn in this +world. Even Aunt Gertrude has given up on me, +and she knows that I haven’t loafed on the job, +either. I’ve been pummelling dough every day at +five in the morning for the last six weeks, and still +not a single roll has turned out decently.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But Uncle won’t hear of my getting any other +job, all because of this idiotic tradition about the +Winklers. I never heard of—” he broke off and +began to pace up and down the room, while Jane +sat silently nibbling her thumb-nail.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, what shall I do?” he demanded presently—“<em class="italics">You</em> +suggest something Janey, you’re a +wise little worm.” This sincere, if rather inelegant +tribute brought a pleased smile to Jane’s face. +“What would you do if you were in my boots?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane meditated a moment; then she said,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I wouldn’t get up and go—yet. I’d +wait and see.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Wait and see what?” Paul rapped out a little +impatiently, and frowning as if this piece of advice +were not exactly to his taste. But Jane was +unmoved.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’d wait and see—lots of things. First of all, +you <em class="italics">might</em> find that you don’t care as much about +painting pictures as you think you do.” This observation +surprised and angered Paul, and his face +showed it. His startled, resentful look said plainly, +“I thought that <em class="italics">you</em> understood me!” But Jane +neither retracted nor explained. “And then,” she +went on, calmly, “Daddy <em class="italics">might</em> change his mind a +little, if you took good care not to make him angry +about unimportant things—especially about +squabbling with Carl. And last of all, it’s just +barely possible that another Winkler <em class="italics">might</em> turn +up—you never <em class="italics">can</em> tell.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul stared at her for fully thirty seconds in +absolute silence. Then he honored these sage +remarks with a contemptuous grunt.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, that helps a lot I must say,” he said, sarcastically. +“If I waited for any one of those things +to happen, I’d be pounding dough until doomsday! +Thanks!” and with that he turned away and resumed +his restless promenade around the room. +Jane shrugged her shoulders. A rather long and +chilly pause followed. Paul was disappointed in +her; but his silent indignation seemed to trouble +her very little, and after a while, he threw a cold +glance at her. But she was sitting with her back +toward him, and so he felt the need of rousing +her attention in another way.</p> +<!-- File: 109.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“You think, I may not care about painting as +much as I think I do?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Maybe, maybe not. I said, <em class="italics">I’d</em> wait and see,” +returned Jane placidly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Humph. And you think Uncle might change +his mind?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“He might.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And what chance is there of another Winkler +showing up, I’d like to know? One in ten thousand!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It <em class="italics">might</em> be better than that.” Paul sat down on +the edge of the table, and glowered at the back of +her head. Then gradually a slow, unwilling grin +broke over his face.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You’re a nice one to preach patience!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I’m quite patient <em class="italics">sometimes</em>.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, look here—I’ll wait and see, then. But +I’ll tell you one thing—if things don’t begin to get +different pretty soon, I’m off!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“All right,” said Jane, getting up. Paul stood +up, too. Then suddenly he held out his hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Listen, Janey—please don’t mind me when I get +rough and short. You’ve got more sense than I +have, and I need someone to talk to like the +dickens.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">I’ve</em> got more sense than <em class="italics">you</em> have, Paul!” repeated +Jane, sincerely amazed. “How can you say +that? Why, you’re the most—the most clever person +I ever knew in my life!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Nothing cements friendship like mutual admiration; +but Jane felt something warmer and better +than mere admiration, as she put her hand into +Paul’s big paw; she felt that rare, happy pleasure +that is stirred in a responsive young soul when it +is first called upon to give sympathy and help; and +their firm handclasp sealed a friendship that was to +last to the end of their lives.</p> +<!-- File: 111.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-viigirls"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id8">CHAPTER VII—GIRLS</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Half a dozen feminine tongues babbled cheerfully. +For once the Deacon’s chilly parlor, with +its slippery, horse-hair furniture, its stiff-featured +portraits, and its big, black square piano, had lost +a little of its funereal aspect, and a great deal of +its oppressive neatness. Over the chairs, over the +Brussels carpet, over the bow-legged table were +scattered pieces of bright sateen, blue, red, orange +and black, scraps of lace and gold tinsel, spangles +and feathers. A coal fire glowed amiably in the +grate, adding a deeper color to six blooming faces, +and flashing on the bright needles that were so industriously +plied. Outside, the first heavy snow +of the winter was falling, in big, lazy flakes, which +had already covered streets and roofs, and +weighted the twigs and branches of the trees.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I’ve got every one of my Christmas +presents ready,” remarked one young lady with a +comfortable sigh of relief. “I start making them +in June, but somehow I never get done until the +<em class="italics">last</em> minute.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I just never try to make mine,” said another, +“I take a day, and buy all of them in the city, when +I go to visit Cousin Mary. It saves time and +trouble, and <em class="italics">I</em> think it’s really more economical.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, but then they don’t have the personal +touch,” said a third, a tall, thin anæmic-looking +girl, with large, soulful eyes, and a tiny mouth. +“And that is what counts. It’s what makes +Christmas presents mean something. I always +say that I never think of the gift, but of the +thought of the giver.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But you make such clever things, Amelia,” +said the one who bought her Christmas presents, +feeling ashamed of her lack of sentiment.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Very simple things, Dolly,” said Amelia, +rinsing off her watercolor brush, and then dabbing +it in a square of holly-red paint. “But I think +that just a little card, with a tasteful design, and +an appropriate verse is a very suitable way of +expressing the spirit of Christmas.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And quite right, my dear,” boomed in Mrs. +Deacon, appearing in the doorway. “But then +you have such a charming gift of poesy. Not all +of us are blessed with <em class="italics">your</em> magniloquence.” She +lifted one of Amelia’s cards, and inspected it, +through a pair of lorgnettes, which she held about +six inches from her eyes, spreading out her little +finger. “<em class="italics">How</em> charming! How effete with taste! +Lily, my dear, you too should try to emulate +Amelia’s Christmastide mementos. You are not +entirely devoid of poetic genius. Why, I have +many little emblems of your youthful flights of +fancy—where is that album, my dear?”</p> +<!-- File: 113.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, mamma!” cried Lily, blushing crimson. +“Those silly poems of mine!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Indeed they are not silly,” said Mrs. Deacon, +rummaging in the drawer of the table. “No, the +album is not here. Lily, my dear, when will you +remember that everything has its proper place? +Now, I did want to read Amelia that delightful +little Bandeau of yours on the Pine-Tree. She +would be interested, I’m sure. And the Album +is not here. Perhaps though, I put it away +myself.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, mamma, don’t get it now,” begged Lily, +overcome with embarrassment, adding, desperately, +“Do look at the lovely thing Elise is making.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Deacon, huge and majestic in her rustling +black silk, turned her lorgnette on Elise’s exquisite +embroidery.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Charming. Absolutely charming. Do not rise, +my dear. Well, I see that you are all happily occupied. +What are these gay colors?” she asked +presently, indicating the pieces of sateen.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I brought some things that I thought might +do for costumes, Mrs. Deacon,” said Annie Lee +Webster. “For our party you know, on New +Year’s Eve.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah! A Masquerade? How charming.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What are you going as, Amelia?” asked the +fourth girl, the lively, apple-cheeked Dolly Webster. +The poetess looked up dreamily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“As Sappho,” she replied. Mrs. Deacon looked +astonished, and interested.</p> +<!-- File: 114.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Sappho, my dear? How will you do that? +Sappho was a race-horse!”</p> +<p class="pnext">There was an irrepressible chuckle from the window +embrasure, where, concealed by the long, dark-red +curtains, Jane was curled, with a book, and a +half-sucked orange.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Deacon turned swiftly, her lorgnette levelled +on the younger Miss Lambert like a microscope.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah, Jane!” she observed a little coldly. Jane +stood up respectfully, concealing her vulgar orange +under her pinafore. “What are you laughing at, +my dear?” asked Mrs. Deacon suspiciously.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I thought it would be funny for Amelia to go as +a race-horse,” replied Jane, simply, quite at her ease +under Mrs. Deacon’s prolonged stare. Amelia, who +took herself very seriously, and hated to appear in a +ridiculous light even for a moment, said rather indignantly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“A race-horse! Sappho was a poetess.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah, of course!” said Mrs. Deacon hastily, +“that will be charming. And <em class="italics">so</em> well chosen. +How will you signify yourself?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I am going to wear a simple Grecian robe of +white muslin, with laurel leaves in my hair. And +I shall carry a lyre,” replied Amelia. “I thought +I would let my hair hang loose.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ravishing! Simply ravishing!” cried Mrs. Deacon +in perfect raptures. “So simple. And after +all, is there anything like simplicity?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“How will you get a lyre?” asked the practical +Annie Lee.</p> +<!-- File: 115.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“I shall try to make one out of card-board and +gold paper.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Or you could borrow old Mr. Poindexter’s +banjo,” suggested Jane, gravely. “That would +really be better, because you <em class="italics">could</em> twang on it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Amelia did not deign to reply to this remark.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What are you going to wear, Lily?” Elise put +in hurriedly, throwing a reproving look at Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">Lily glanced at her mother.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I wish I could go as—as a Spanish dancer!” +she said timidly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“A Spanish dancer, Lily!” cried Mrs. Deacon. +“Indeed I could not permit anything of the sort! +No. But it seems to me that it would be very delightful +if you should affect a character very similar +to Amelia’s. Why would it not be sweet for you +to go together as the Two Muses, the one fair, the +other brunette, representing, as it were, the poetical +talent of Frederickstown? I would suggest, too, +that each of you recite some little poem of her own +composition. Lily, I must find that album.” And +with this, Mrs. Deacon hastened from the room.</p> +<p class="pnext">Lily looked distressed. She was terribly shy, +and the thought of having her poor little verses +publicly read and appraised, dyed her smooth +face, with one of her frequent blushes.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I <em class="italics">would</em> like to go as a Spanish Dancer, +though,” she said, presently, biting off a thread +with her little white teeth, “I don’t know why, but +I do. I’d like to wear a comb in my hair, and a +black fan, and <em class="italics">scarlet heels</em>!”</p> +<!-- File: 116.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“You’d look lovely. I’m sure if you beg hard, +your mother would let you,” wheedled Annie Lee. +Lily shook her head.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t think so. And I’m afraid mamma +thinks its awfully bold of me even to think of such +a thing.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“There’s nothing bold about a Spanish dancer. +Just dashing,” said Dolly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But Lily isn’t at all dashing,” remarked Amelia.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I want to be, though,” said Lily suddenly. “I’d +like to be very, very dashing just for once in my +life. I want to know what it feels like. I’m sick of +being demure and lady-like. Yes, I am! And I want +to wear a comb in my hair and scarlet heels.” The +color rose in her cheeks, and her blue eyes shone +with a rebellious light. “I—I want to—to <em class="italics">flirt</em>!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Lily!” cried Amelia, in pained astonishment, +“why, whatever is the matter with you? You want +to <em class="italics">flirt</em>? Why, I never heard of such a thing. +You, of all people! Why, flirting is beneath you!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, no, it’s not!” returned Lily, audaciously. +“Do you think it’s beneath <em class="italics">you</em>?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Of course it’s beneath Amelia,” interrupted +Dolly, whose brown eyes were twinkling, “Amelia’s +too intellectual to care about anything like +that, aren’t you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Amelia hesitated.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think that flirting is very trivial,” she said at +length, in her superior way, “and no flirt ever wins +a man’s solid respect. My brother-in-law says that +every man really cares more about good sense, even +though he may show a passing interest in frivolous +people.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t care what your brother-in-law thinks,” +returned Lily, with a spirit that astounded her +friends. “<em class="italics">I</em> feel like flirting. I’m tired of being +sensible. I want to be gay, and—and <em class="italics">dangerous</em>.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Amelia, you make me weary,” said Dolly; “you +pretend you aren’t the least bit interested in beaux, +but I know that you pose as being intellectual, just +to—well, because you think it’s one way of attracting +’em! And why are you going as Sappho if it isn’t +to show off your long hair?”</p> +<p class="pnext">A titter of mirth greeted this observation, which +struck everyone but Amelia as being remarkably +astute.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come on, Lily—let’s just see how you <em class="italics">would</em> +look in a Spanish costume,” coaxed Annie Lee. +“We can use this yellow stuff for a skirt. Has +anybody got a black lace scarf and a comb?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I have,” said Lily, herself. “I got them about +four years ago and I’ve had them hidden in my +lowest bureau drawer ever since. I knew I never +could use them, but I couldn’t resist them. I—I +put them on sometimes when I’m alone, just to see +what I look like. Aren’t I silly?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Go and get them,” commanded Annie Lee. But +at that moment, Mrs. Deacon reappeared.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now here is the album,” she announced. “I +just want to read you these few little things that +I think perfectly dear, Amelia. You with your +veins of poesy will appreciate them.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, mamma, <em class="italics">please</em>,” implored the hapless Lily, +turning red as fire. “Don’t! They are so <em class="italics">awful</em>!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You are so modest, Lily. Now, here is a little +thing that Lily wrote when she was only fifteen, +Amelia. It’s called The Pinetree.” And with a +preparatory “Ahem!” Mrs. Deacon proceeded to +read amidst a profound silence,</p> +<blockquote><div> +<p class="pfirst">“The Pinetree stood lonely and bare, +In the ghastly—no, ghostly, white light of the moon, +And I wondered why it made me +Feel so very full of gloom. +It made me think of all the friends, +Whom—Lily, dear what is this next word?”</p> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">But Lily had fled. “That child is perfectly ridiculous,” +said Mrs. Deacon, with annoyance. “Now, +I think these little things are full of poetic feeling. +So melancholy, you know. Lily was quite a melancholy +child. Just look over some of these little +things, Amelia, and tell me, if you don’t think they +are sweet. Read the one beginning,</p> +<blockquote><div> +<p class="pfirst">“Alone, alone, why am I so alone?”</p> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Just as this point the clock struck four, followed +by the low chimes from the belfry of the nearby +church, and Mrs. Deacon suddenly remembered +that she was due at a committee meeting at four-fifteen.</p> +<p class="pnext">Lily was persuaded to return, and the unfortunate +subject of her “poesy” was tactfully abandoned, and +now that Mrs. Deacon’s overwhelming +presence was withdrawn, the discussion of +scarf and scarlet heels was renewed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We’ll dress you up, anyway. And I’m sure +that when she sees you Mrs. Deacon will let you +have your way,” said Annie Lee. “Get all your +things, and <em class="italics">I’ll</em> direct.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane, from the window embrasure, watched the +proceedings with a critical eye. Of all the older +girls of the town—in fact of all the girls in general,—the +gentle Lily was her favorite. There +was not an atom of heroine-worship in her attitude; +on the contrary, she felt almost older than +Lily in many ways, notwithstanding the four years +difference in their ages; and she felt rather sorry +for Lily, without exactly knowing why. Jane, so +capable herself of getting what she wanted, had +the tendency of many vigorous natures, to feel a +certain good-natured, wondering contempt for +weaker and timid characters; but there was something +about Lily’s weakness and timidity that was +so perfectly in keeping with her delicately lovely +face, with her daintiness and maidenliness, that it +was really one of her charms, a beauty in itself.</p> +<p class="pnext">With a sort of benevolent smile Jane observed +Lily’s face color with naive pleasure, as she saw +her ambition to appear “dashing and dangerous” +gradually being realized under Annie Lee’s skillful +manipulation of the very simple materials at hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">In less than half an hour, the heavy, mahogany-framed +mirror, reflected the gayest vision that had +ever peered into its mottled surface. Jane +clapped her hands delightedly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">Now</em> don’t you like yourself!” she crowed. +Annie Lee sat back on her heels, thoroughly satisfied +with her achievement. And well she might be. +The vivid yellow skirt, which looked almost exactly +like real satin, had been judiciously shortened to +show the prettiest ankles in Frederickstown, clad +in a pair of black silk stockings with scarlet clocks!—another +of Lily’s hidden treasures. The black +lace scarf, draped like a mantilla over the high tortoise-shell +comb, fell over Lily’s slender white +shoulders, and framing her face, made her skin +seem more transparent, her hair blacker, her eyes +bluer, and her mouth redder than before. Mrs. +Deacon’s spangled black fan had been boldly rifled +from her bureau drawer, and from the humble +duty of stirring the listless air in church on a summer +morning, had been promoted to that of fluttering +coquettishly in Lily’s hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">“If you must have scarlet heels,” said Annie +Lee, “you can tear the satin off the heels of your +black slippers and paint the wooden part red.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You <em class="italics">do</em> look perfectly scrumptious, Lily,” said +Dolly; “there isn’t a thing wrong, and you’ve +simply got to wear that costume.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Lily, with her closed fan laid against her lips, +gazed into the mirror, as if uncertain that the reflection +that gazed back were really she, herself.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I wish—” she began, and then broke off with +a shame-faced, confused little smile.</p> +<!-- File: 121.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">Just then, Jane, who happened to glance out of +the window to see how deep the snow was getting, +remarked,</p> +<p class="pnext">“There goes Mr. Sheridan. I wonder what on +earth—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Where?” cried a chorus of voices in great excitement, +and instantly every girl was at the window +peering over each other’s shoulders, and fairly bursting +with curiosity to see the eccentric young man, +whose habits had for several weeks been the subject +of much speculation in that busybody little town. +Even Amelia forgot her dignity and scrambled to +see him. Lily, only, tried to appear indifferent, but +without complete success; for after a moment’s +hesitation, she too was peeping out from behind the +substantial Dolly.</p> +<p class="pnext">The object of this flattering interest was sauntering +along with his hands in his pockets, and his +head bent; but presently, as if he felt the magnetism +of all this concentrated attention, he looked up to +the window. His expression of surprise,—even +of indignation, as if he resented this notice from +the “feminine element”—was almost instantly replaced +by one of alertness. Jane beamed at him, +and waved her hand, and he smiled back at her and +lifted his hat; but, in that brief second—and Jane +did not fail to note this—his eye travelled swiftly +over the cluster of pretty faces, and with remarkable +keenness, singled out Lily’s, and again he lifted +his hat, and bowed slightly.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane turned quickly to see Lily blushing pink, +and with an answering smile just fading from her +eyes.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do <em class="italics">you</em> know him too?” she demanded. Lily +pretended not to hear. Shrinking back, and pursing +up her lips, she said primly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Aren’t you all ashamed of yourselves—rushing +to stare at a stranger like that, and letting him see +you, too?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’d like to know why I shouldn’t,” said Annie +Lee. “Anyone who is as queer as he is, deserves +to be stared at.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What’s queer about him?” cried Lily, quite indignantly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, he never goes anywhere, and never sees +anyone, and lives all alone in that big house. You +may not call that queer, but <em class="italics">I</em> do.” returned Annie +Lee.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And he’s <em class="italics">so</em> handsome,” murmured Dolly, sentimentally. +“I’m sure he’s had some unhappy love-affair.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Pooh!” said Jane, who was not romantic, “he’s +no more heart-broken than I am.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You know very little, as yet, concerning the +secret sorrows that many people hide,” said Amelia.</p> +<p class="pnext">“When they hide them that’s one thing,” retorted +Jane, “but he advertises his like a breakfast food.” +Then once more she turned on Lily, remorselessly, +“Do <em class="italics">you</em> know him, too, Miss Lily?” she repeated.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I? Why, n-no,” said Lily, pretending to be +studying her own dimpled chin in the mirror.</p> +<!-- File: 123.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“He bowed to you,” insisted Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“To me? Why, he didn’t do anything of the +sort!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Lily Deacon!” cried Dolly, “you know very +well he did! Any why are you blushing?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m not blushing. I don’t know him. How +could that be? I-I only—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You only what?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, nothing!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Lily, you’re concealing something!” cried +Annie Lee.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I’m not. Don’t be so silly. It isn’t anything +at all. Only last Thursday, when I was +coming home from Mrs. McTavish’s I happened +to take a short cut through the field there, and that +hateful dog that belongs to Mr. Jenkins started to +run after me, barking and growling the way he +always does. I got over the stile, but he crawled +under the fence, and followed me again. And I +started to run, and he ran after me, and jumped +up at me and frightened me to death. And Mr. +Sheridan happened to be coming through the field. +And he caught the dog, and told me I was a silly +to run. And that’s all.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“My <em class="italics">dear</em>!” breathed Dolly, “and is that all he +said?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, he just asked me if I was afraid of dogs, +and I said only of some. And he said he liked +them, they were so intelligent. And—and then I +said I hated cats, and he said he did too; and +asked me if I liked horses—”</p> +<!-- File: 124.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“How long did this keep up?” inquired Annie +Lee.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There are lots of animals,” said Jane. “Did +you find out how he liked cows and pigs and ducks +and porcupines—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think you are all mean to laugh!” cried Lily +indignantly. “It was perfectly natural to say +<em class="italics">something</em>. And he was very nice and polite.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And what was the dog doing meanwhile?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“The dog? What dog? Oh—I guess it must +have gone home.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well!” said Amelia, “I must say, Lily, that I +think it would have been quite enough if you had +simply thanked him, and gone on your way. And +<em class="italics">I</em> think that Mr. Sheridan should hardly have +asked you if you liked dogs when he had never +been introduced to you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Lily, who was easily crushed, hung her head at +this reproof, and did not attempt to defend herself. +Now that she thought of it in the light that Amelia’s +words threw on it, it seemed nothing short of +shocking that she had spoken in such a familiar +vein with a young man to whom she had never been +introduced. Why had she said anything about it? +Now, it was all spoiled, that innocent little episode, +which had given her so much pleasure just to think +about. Jane, however, quickly came to her defense.</p> +<p class="pnext">“How silly! I don’t think anyone but a prig +would be as proper as all that.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Jane!” remonstrated Elise, “that isn’t a very +nice thing to say.”</p> +<!-- File: 125.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“How do <em class="italics">you</em> happen to know him Janey?” asked +Annie Lee.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I called on him,” replied Jane, nonchalantly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">Called</em> on him!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I thought someone ought to see what he +was like. And he was very nice. What I’ve been +wondering is what he does with himself all the time. +He says he wants solitude, and that he doesn’t want +to have to see any people, but I think that’s all nonsense. +<em class="italics">I</em> think he’s bored to death with himself.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you know what?” said Annie Lee, “I’m +going to ask mother to invite him to our party. If +he doesn’t want to he doesn’t have to come; but +everyone else in Frederickstown <em class="italics">is</em> invited, and its +all so informal and everything, I don’t see why we +shouldn’t ask him too. It would be perfectly all +right, because I think father knows him. I <em class="italics">know</em> +father used to know Major Sheridan, because I’ve +heard him talk about when they were in the Spanish +American war.”</p> +<p class="pnext">This idea became popular immediately. Even +Amelia had no objections to make, and was in fact +already making certain mental improvements on +the costume she had planned.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Lily was silent. Amelia’s criticism of her +behavior had wounded her to the quick, and with +a sober face she began quietly to take off her finery, +as if some of the fascination had evaporated from +that dashing Spanish comb, and even from the +thought of scarlet heels.</p> +<!-- File: 126.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-viiijane-lends-a-hand"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id9">CHAPTER VIII—JANE LENDS A HAND</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Mr. Sheridan, like Achilles, had been sulking +for a remarkably long time. It is true that some +men and women are able to nurse a grievance for +life; but Mr. Sheridan was too young, and too +healthy not to find himself, at the end of some +eight weeks, thoroughly bored, restless and dissatisfied +with himself. He was not ready to admit +this yet, however. He believed that he had proved +conclusively that it was in every way the wisest thing +to withdraw in lofty disgust from the arena of human +affairs, and while his present course of life had +the charm of novelty, he was unwilling to admit +that he was possibly mistaken. For a time he rather +enjoyed the rôle of the misanthrope, and cynic. +But it was not his natural character, by any means, +and notwithstanding the fact that he <em class="italics">believed</em> that +he did not want to have anything to do with anyone, +he found his new rôle exceedingly tiresome to +play day in and day out without an audience. Peterson, +who was as bored as he, and who could +not understand “what had gotten into Mr. Tim,” +was sour and unsympathetic; and finding the need +of someone as confidant, absolutely imperative, the +embittered recluse of five-and-twenty, resorted to +writing long letters to his one-time boon companion, +Philip Blackstone, in which he poured forth +his uncomplimentary opinions of human nature, +gave lengthy descriptions of his states of mind, and +accounts of his mode of living. Phil, a hearty young +man, who loved horses and dogs, who was quite +helpless without his friends, and hated writing letters, +responded tersely enough, inquiring what was +the matter with him anyway. The correspondence +died out. Mr. Sheridan tried to devote himself to +books, but the long, unbroken hours of silence in +the musty old library depressed him terribly. He +took long walks, and long rides for exercise, but +his own thoughts were dull company. He rode +through the woods and the idle, untilled fields of +his own estate, and was struck by the contrast between +his own barren, unkempt lands with the thriving +farms of his neighbors. It occurred to him to +go in for farming in the spring, to plant corn +and wheat, and to get cows and horses, to build +barns and paddocks, and to rent out part of his land +to some of the thrifty, shrewd young farmers, the +newly married ones. The idea delighted him; he +wanted to talk about it, to get the opinions of some +of the intelligent land-owners of the neighborhood, +and to air his own notions. But gradually his enthusiasm +waned again. He was getting lazy and +listless. Every effort seemed useless to him. He +began to feel very much abused because no one was +interested in him. Miss Abbott had treated him +very badly, even Peterson was as cross with him as +the old servant’s good manners would allow, Phil +scolded him in his short dry letters, and finally had +stopped writing altogether, and that bright little +red-headed girl had never come to see him again. +When he walked through the town he felt abused +because everyone seemed to be having a better time +than he. They all knew each other; the women +stopped to chat on their way to market, the men +talked local politics and business in the doorways +of the warehouses; when he passed they touched +their hats respectfully, and stared after him curiously, +as if he were something that had dropped +from another planet. He was in a chronically bad +humor. That the world in general had taken +him at his word, and left him entirely alone +put him still more at odds with it, and the fact that +he knew he was living idly and uselessly put him +at odds with himself. If he had stopped to consider, +he would have discovered very quickly that +he was not heart-broken as he imagined at all; he +was simply angry. He tried to excuse himself +for his aimless existence by arguing that no one +cared what he did, and that it was impossible for a +man to keep up his enthusiasm about anything when +there was no one to please but himself. He told +himself that everything was the fault of the heartless +Miss Abbott; but as a matter of fact if he +thought a great deal about Miss Abbott’s unkind +treatment, he thought surprisingly little about Miss +Abbott herself. He was quite shocked one day to +discover how blurred her very features had become +in his memory. A lot of fair, curly hair—which +somehow changed to smooth black tresses when he +tried to represent it in his fancy—a rosy, coquettish +face, and the arch, self-confident smile of a girl +who had begun to learn when she was less than sixteen +that she was beautiful and irresistible. But +all the features of that pretty, imperious face were +indistinct, and when he tried to picture it very +clearly, he found to his dismay and amazement that +he wasn’t thinking of <em class="italics">that</em> face at all. Another one +had replaced it, a shy, demure little face, the features +of which were very distinct indeed, so distinct +that he could not doubt for a moment to whom it +belonged. This was rather an alarming discovery +to be made by a young man who had definitely decided +that all women were henceforth to be indignantly +and strictly avoided. And it was with dismay +that he found himself repeatedly thinking about +a certain brief accidental conversation that he had +had with the timid, black-haired maiden in the field.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Dogs are so intelligent,”—and then they had +spoken of the relative intelligence of cats. Not a +very brilliant conversation, certainly, and it piqued +him a little to think that he had not been able to +say something more interesting and original; yet +the girl had listened as intently as if every word +he had uttered was a mine of wisdom.</p> +<p class="pnext">On the other hand, it was certainly quite possible +that <em class="italics">all</em> girls were not as treacherous as the beautiful +Miss Abbott. Here he pulled himself up short, and +displeased at his own weakness, firmly resolved not +to waste another thought on Lily. It was all the +fault of that little red-headed Jane, who had popped +in on his solitude, and roused his interest in Lily +Deacon by flattering his vanity.</p> +<p class="pnext">One morning, early in Christmas week, Peterson +brought him a note. Mrs. Webster had couched +her invitation in the ceremonious, courtly style of +her generation, reminding him of the friendship +that had existed between her husband and his uncle, +and expressing her hope that he would give them +the pleasure of his company on New Year’s Eve.</p> +<p class="pnext">After the gloomiest Christmas that he had ever +spent in his life, Mr. Sheridan’s determination to +avoid human society wavered feebly under this hospitable +attack; and after five or ten minutes reflection, +this hardened misanthropist sat down, and accepted +Mrs. Webster’s invitation in a tone that +fairly overflowed with gratitude.</p> +<p class="pnext">On New Year’s Eve there was a full moon, a +huge, silver-white disk that flooded the whole sky +with light, riding high above the happy, festive little +town. New fallen snow glistened on the roofs, +lined the black branches of the trees, and flew up +in a sparkling mist from the swift runners of the +sleighs.</p> +<p class="pnext">All Frederickstown was bound for the Webster’s +big farm. The streets were filled with the sounds +of laughter, shouts, jovial singing, and the jingling +of sleigh-bells. One horse sleighs and two horse +sleighs, old ones with the straw coming through the +worn felt covering of the seats, and new ones shining +with red paint and polished brass, all were +crowded with holiday-makers. All the younger +people, and even many of the older ones were in +masquerade, under their burly overcoats and mufflers, +and vast entertainment was derived from trying +to guess who was who, as one sleigh passed another, +the occupants waving and shouting. And it +was amusing to see that of the older people, it was +usually the most serious and sedate who wore the +most comic disguises, and the most grotesque +masks; evidently bent upon showing for once in the +year that they too had not forgotten how to frolic. +There was old Mr. Pyncheon, with green pantaloons +appearing from beneath his great bearskin coat, and +a huge red false nose hiding his own thin, impressive +eagle’s beak; there was grave, bearded Professor +Dodge with red Mephistophelean tights on his +lean nobby limbs, spryly tucking Miss Clementina +into his little single-seated sleigh. (Miss Clementina, +aged fifty-two, was representing “Spring,” in +pink tartalan with yards of green cotton vine leaves, +and bunches of pink cotton roses garlanding her +spare, bony little figure, though at present this delightfully +symbolical costume was hidden under piles +of cosy-jackets, mufflers, veils and cloaks.) And +lastly, there was Mr. Lambert himself, representing +a mediæval astrologer, with a black sateen robe ornamented +with silver-paper stars and crescents, a +long white beard held in place with black tape, and +a great pointed cap nearly a yard high. The entire +Lambert family, by no means excluding either +Granny or the twins was packed into the big three-seated +sleigh. Mr. Lambert mounted in front, with +Aunt Gertrude beside him, and Minie between them, +snapped his whip in a positively dashing fashion, and +off lumbered the two fat old horses. Sledges flew +out from the side lanes, joining the lively procession, +and of course there were races and near accidents, +and once indeed the Todd’s sleigh overturned into +a big drift depositing most of its occupants head +downwards into the snow.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There’s Miss Lily, right in front of us!” cried +Jane, “and I do believe that she’s wearing her Spanish +costume after all!”</p> +<p class="pnext">The Deacons, mother and daughter, were in fact +being driven along by old Mr. Buchanan, who had +gallantly placed its sleigh at the service of the two +ladies. At the same time, to judge from Mrs. Deacon’s +face, there seemed to be some reason for uneasiness +in the chesterfieldian old man’s very zeal. +He was an ardent, if not an exactly comfortable +driver; he shouted to his horses and the two lean, +shaggy animals alternately stopped short, and leapt +forward with terrific suddenness and speed; and at +each jolt, Mrs. Deacon groaned in suppressed alarm. +She had begun to suspect that her escort had already +been celebrating the coming New Year, and, +indeed, it was not unlikely; for the poor old bachelor +was as noted for his convivial temperament +as for his gallantry.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Pray, Mr. Buchanan, would it not be as well to +drive less rapidly?” suggested Mrs. Deacon, as casually +as she could. But Mr. Buchanan would not +hear of this; he felt that she hinted at a veiled doubt +as to his ability for managing his fiery steeds.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Have no fears, ma’am. You may place entire +confidence in me, ma’am. I may seem reckless—and +there’s dash of the old Harry in my nature, I +won’t deny—but there ain’t a man in Frederickstown, +I may say in the whole <em class="italics">county</em>, ma’am, as understands +this team of horses like me. Why I was drivin’ +this here Jerry and Tom afore you was born, +Miss—er—ma’am;—it’s the living truth. Why, +they are like my own children—they love me, and +I l-o-ove them, like they was my own brothers!” +And the tenderness of his emotion so wrought upon +Mr. Buchanan’s spirit, that large tears stood in his +childish blue eyes. It cannot be said that even these +assurances calmed Mrs. Deacon’s fears; but if to her +that five mile drive was a thing of sudden alarms +and constant terrors, to Lily it was an unmixed delight. +It was not often that Lily was able to take +part in the various merry-makings of the town; +there always seemed to be so many other things +for her to do, and she was far oftener spending her +hours in company with her mother’s serious-minded +friends than with the lively boys and girls of her +own age. She attended innumerable meetings of the +Ladies’ Civic Uplift Society, she made innumerable +red flannel petticoats with feather-stitched hems for +little heathen girls, she prepared innumerable sandwiches +for various parish entertainments, she made +innumerable calls on fretful invalids; but she did not +very often find a chance to have simply a good time.</p> +<p class="pnext">Now, snuggling down into a corner of the rickety +old sleigh, with the musty moth-eaten old bearskin +robe pulled up to her chin, she sat lost in complete +rapture. The fresh, cold air, stinging her cheeks, +the brilliant moon, the sweetly dissonant jingling of +the sleigh-bells, and the scraps of singing carrying +back from the jolly groups ahead of her, the wide, +free stretches of snow-covered fields, glistening under +moonlight so bright that one could detect a rabbit +track across their smooth expanse—all filled her +with unutterable delight. She was very glad that +she hadn’t gone with any of the others; then she +would have had to talk, and she wasn’t ready to talk +yet. It was too nice just to be able to sit still, and +enjoy it all, and think. Her thoughts must have +been pleasant ones. Pleasant? That is not the +word, but then there is no word that can describe +the timid, bold, incoherent, romantic and beautifully +absurd thoughts of an eighteen-year old girl. It +is enough to say that her shining eyes were filled +with them, that the dimples came, and that when she +smiled to herself, she bent her head so that no one +would be able to see that smile, and perhaps read +its meaning.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Deacon had been persuaded to permit the +Spanish costume, and under her scarfs and furs, +Lily was very dashing indeed, with the high comb, +and the clocked stockings, the spangled fan, and +the scarlet heels. And she pictured herself naïvely +as the belle of the ball; yes, all the young men should +besiege her—but she didn’t care about that in itself. +What she longed for was to appear fascinating +and irresistible, just so that—well, just so that, +<em class="italics">he</em> could see. Dolly had told her that he would be +there. Would he recognize her? Would he dance +with her? Well, it might be this way; he would +see her of course, but she would pretend not to see +him, and he would think that she had forgotten all +about him. Then perhaps he might ask someone +to present him, but still she would pretend to have +forgotten all about that day in the field; then he +would ask her to dance with him; but already someone +would have claimed that dance. Then—what +if he did not ask her again? Suppose he should +just bow, and go away. There was a possibility.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What a silly girl I am!” thought Lily, unconsciously +shaking her head. Just then she was flung +violently to one side, her mother half tumbling upon +her. At breakneck speed, and with a great flourish +of his whip, Mr. Buchanan had just negotiated the +abrupt and difficult turn into the gate of the Webster’s +farm.</p> +<p class="pnext">Once past the gate, a long and rather narrow road +descended gradually between two snake-fences to the +hollow where the big, rambling, comfortable old +homestead stood. The road leading from the house +to the barn was illuminated with colored lanterns, +which threw weird tints over the faces of the masqueraders +as they sped past.</p> +<p class="pnext">Already a dozen sleighs had emptied on the +wooden platform in front of the big sliding doors; +already the huge room, with its high ceiling crossed +by solid rafters, was half full of people. It was +gaily decorated. Ropes of cedar entwined the rafters, +branches of holly were tacked to the walls, colored +lanterns, with sly sprays of mistletoe hanging +from them, dangled from the ceiling. A huge fire +blazed in a great brick fireplace, in front of which +the older men had collected to drink a toast with +Mr. Webster. And up in the erstwhile hayloft, +which now did duty as a sort of musicians’ gallery, a +negro band was already playing “Old Uncle Ned,” +with such irresistible liveliness that many dancers +had begun to spin about the floor without having +paused to take off their heavy wraps.</p> +<p class="pnext">For a New Year’s party at the Websters to be +anything but jolly,—superlatively merry—was an +unheard of thing. Indeed it could not have been +otherwise. Theirs was quite the merriest family in +the world. To see the four big boys, with their irresistible +grins, and the two rosy-cheeked bright-eyed +girls, and Mrs. Webster, a dignified-looking +woman, with a pair of twinkling eyes, and a lively +tongue, and old Mr. Webster, rotund and ruddy, was +sufficient to dispose the most melancholy soul in the +world to jocund mirth.</p> +<p class="pnext">Around the fire the old wags were cracking jokes +and recounting their favorite anecdotes. Then the +darkies, grinning from ear to ear, and showing rows +of teeth like ears of corn, struck up a Virginia +Reel.</p> +<!-- File: 137.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Ah-ha!” cried Mr. Webster. “Choose your partners, +gentlemen!” and dashing across the room, he +singled out Janey.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Here’s my girl!” and executing the most wonderful +bow imaginable, he led “his girl” out onto +the floor. The Virginia reel went on at a lively +pace, and Mr. Webster, leading with the laughing +and muddled Jane, introduced the most remarkable +figures, turning the dance into a sort of pot-pourri +of all the steps he had learned in his youth, including +a cake-walk and a sailor’s horn-pipe. Everyone +seemed to want to dance and no one seemed to +have any difficulty in finding a partner; but the two +undisputed belles of the evening were Lily Deacon +and—Miss Clementina! Yes, Miss Clementina, +little and wizened and brown as a walnut proved beyond +argument her right to boast of having been +once the queen of hearts in Frederickstown; and although +thirty years and more had passed since her +cheeks were rosy, and her sharp little elbows had had +dimples in them, she still had her faithful admirers, +grey-haired, portly gentlemen, a trifle stiff, and a +trifle gouty, who still saw in the wiry, black-eyed +little old maid, the charmer of auld lang syne. And +how outrageously she coquetted, and how everyone +applauded when she and the professor danced +a schottische together—most gracefully; the professor +spinning about, on his red legs, pointing his +toes, skipping and sliding in the lively dance with all +the sprightliness of a stripling of twenty; and Miss +Clementina pirouetting and skipping along beside +him, her pink tartalan skirts swirling around her +tiny little feet, and her black eyes sparkling in her +brown little face, as if saying, “Who says that <em class="italics">my</em> +day is over!”</p> +<p class="pnext">But Lily held sway over the youth of the gathering. +Every moment she was dancing, light and tireless, +as if there were wings on her scarlet heels. But +now and then she lost the thread of what her partner +was saying, and her blue eyes strayed shyly toward +the door. Then suddenly, the bright red color +flushed up into her cheeks.</p> +<p class="pnext">In front of the fire, with a glass of cider in his +hand, and talking to Mr. Webster (who was at +last forced to confess himself “a bit winded”) stood +Mr. Sheridan.</p> +<p class="pnext">He seemed quite content to stand there listening +to his host’s reminiscences of his uncle and the times +they had had together; and to talk about the various +features of country life as compared to life in the +city; and to laugh at the droll yarns of the other +old gentlemen; and to watch the multi-colored swarm +of dancers spinning about to the lively rhythms of +the negro music. But as a matter of fact, Mr. +Sheridan had, in a remarkably short time singled +out one slim figure, and followed it through the +kaleidoscopic motion of the crowd.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, sir, I hope you have decided to settle +down here for good,” said Mr. Webster, heartily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I—I haven’t exactly decided. But I shall probably +be here for some time.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You have a fine old place there. You don’t +happen to be thinking of getting rid of any of that +land of yours?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It all depends,” replied Mr. Sheridan vaguely.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Bless me!” exclaimed Mr. Webster suddenly bethinking +himself of his duties. “I’m nearly forgetting +that you’re not an old fellow like myself.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And the hospitable old soul took his guest by the +arm and dragged him off to be presented to the +young ladies.</p> +<p class="pnext">First, Mr. Sheridan danced a lively two-step with +the plump but agile Dolly. He enjoyed it, and he +enjoyed talking to Dolly, and he enjoyed the music.</p> +<p class="pnext">Then Dolly, with a wicked twinkle in her eye, +said,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I want to introduce you to one of my dearest +friends.” A hopeful, eager expression came into +Mr. Sheridan’s face, until Dolly, greatly enjoying +his disappointment (which he hastily concealed under +a pleasant smile) betrayed him into the hands +of a pallid young lady, wearing a wilted-looking +Grecian robe, and a wreath of laurel leaves in her +long, scanty, mouse-coloured hair. It was Amelia, +the poetess.</p> +<p class="pnext">These proceedings aroused great interest in a +quarter to which none of the guests had given a +thought: namely, in the hayloft, or musicians’ +gallery. Here since the early part of the evening, +Paul had ensconced himself, his long legs dangling +over the edge, his chin between his hands, brooding +above the jolly turmoil of the dance floor like a +large, thoughtful crow; and here several of the +younger folk had joined him, disdaining the flighty +amusements of their elders, and greatly preferring +to spend their time in the more solid enjoyment of +devouring nuts and raisins and oranges.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane was the latest addition to this noble company. +Having ascended the wooden ladder, she slid +along the edge of the loft to Paul’s side.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hullo,” she said.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hullo,” responded Paul, “been having a good +time?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. What are you doing?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Watching.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s nice up here. It’s near the music. You +know, I’d like to learn how to play the bassoon,” +said Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Then you probably will. How would the trombone +suit you? That seems more your style.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane turned up her nose at him, and then without +replying focussed her attention on the dancers below.</p> +<p class="pnext">Suddenly, half laughing and half annoyed she +exclaimed,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, that <em class="italics">is</em> too mean of Dolly!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What’s too mean?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why—oh, she is a wicked-hearted girl!—she +<em class="italics">knows</em>, just as well as I do that the main reason Mr. +Sheridan came was so that he might meet Lily Deacon. +And she’s gone and tied him up with Mealy +Amelia!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Huh?” said Paul.</p> +<p class="pnext">“He’ll be with Amelia until the dance is <em class="italics">over</em>!”</p> +<!-- File: 141.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Is that your friend, Sheridan, down there? He’s +sort of a nice-looking fellow,” remarked Paul, condescendingly. +“I thought he was about ninety. +Seems a bit glum, doesn’t he?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, you’d be, too, if you had Amelia talking +about the infinite with you for a whole evening. I +saw Dolly introduce him to her at least half an hour +ago, and he hasn’t been rescued yet. Dolly did that +on purpose—just to tease me!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“To tease you? Humph, you seem to think yourself +a pretty important person, don’t you?” observed +Paul with a grin.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I asked Dolly myself please to introduce +him to Miss Lily as soon as she could. I <em class="italics">told</em> her +he was very sad, and needed cheering up—and just +see what she’s done!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I must say you aren’t very easy on Amelia. You +usually seem to like everyone. What’s the matter +with her?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I <em class="italics">do</em> like nearly everyone, but I <em class="italics">do not</em> like Amelia. +She’s a—a hypocrite,” said Jane. “She’s a +<em class="italics">fake</em>. That’s what I don’t like about her. I don’t +like people who write about the stars, and then turn +around and say mean, nasty, cattish little things just +because they’re jealous. Oh, <em class="italics">poor</em> Mr. Sheridan!”</p> +<p class="pnext">The object of Jane’s ardent sympathy really deserved +it. He was doing his duty manfully and +gallantly; but every now and then a haunted and +desperate expression came into his face, as he summoned +up all his faculties to respond to Amelia’s +discourse.</p> +<!-- File: 142.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">She was trying, by various subtle, melancholy little +observations to make him feel that she understood +that he was not a happy man, and that he +might confide in her. His only escape from this +harassing conversation was to dance with her +(tripping at every second step on her Grecian draperies) +and—his only escape from the disasters of +the dance was to talk to her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Paul!” said Jane in a tone of decision, “something +must be done.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Eh?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ll tell you what. <em class="italics">You</em> must go down, and ask +Amelia to dance with you!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">What!</em>”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. Now, do an unselfish act, and it shall be +returned to you a thousandfold,” said Jane, unctuously.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Not interested in any such bargains,” returned +Paul.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. Now, Paul, don’t be stubborn. It’ll only +be for a minute. I’ll ask mother to get Daddy to +go and rescue you—or Mr. Webster, or Mr. Buchanan.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Can’t. Thank heaven, I don’t know how to +dance anything but a highland fling.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, teach Amelia how to do that. Come on, +now, Paul—like a good, delicious angel.” And +with that she began to tug at his arm.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Jane, you’re going to be a horrible, horrible +old woman. You’re going to be a matchmaker. +You’re going to make all your friends hide in ambush +when they see you coming, and you’ll probably +be assassinated.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t care. Come along, now—ni-ice little +Paul, and teach Amelia how to do the pretty highland +fling!” And actually, so irresistible was her +determination, she coaxed the enraged Paul down the +ladder, and standing disinterestedly at a certain distance +away, heard him say meekly, according to +her instructions,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Miss Hartshorn, may I have the pleasure of this +waltz?” his voice fading away to an anguished +whisper. Mr. Sheridan, beaming with satisfaction, +professed abysmal regrets at being forced to +lose his charming partner; and then Paul, with the +sweetly wan expression of an early martyr, placed +one arm around Amelia’s waist, and began the peculiar, +grave capering which in his dazed condition, +he believed to be a waltz.</p> +<!-- File: 144.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-ixthe-best-laid-plans"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id10">CHAPTER IX—“THE BEST LAID PLANS—”</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Mr. Sheridan, turning about, suppressing a vast +sigh, beheld Jane, standing and smiling at him with +her most benevolent expression.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why—so there you are again! How glad I am +to see you! Why haven’t you ever come to call +on me? I’ve missed you,” he said, taking her +hand. His pleasure was too sincere not to be extremely +flattering.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I <em class="italics">would</em> have come, only I’ve been pretty busy,” +she explained; then her eyes twinkled. “That was +Paul,” she said. “You remember I told you that +he was coming. Isn’t he a nice boy?”</p> +<p class="pnext">It was only the mischievous sparkle in her eyes +that told Mr. Sheridan that she had a double meaning.</p> +<p class="pnext">“A <em class="italics">charming</em> boy!” he declared with fervor; and +then he laughed guiltily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“That was mean of Dolly,” said Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What was mean?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“To tie you up with Amelia Hartshorn.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, on the contrary, I—I thought Miss +Hartshorn very agreeable,” replied Mr. Sheridan, +fibbing like a gentleman.</p> +<!-- File: 145.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">Jane shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I was afraid that Dolly might have forgotten +that you were a stranger, and leave you with one +partner for the rest of the dance. And then you’d +have been bored, and—and would have wanted solitude +worse than ever.”</p> +<p class="pnext">This remark brought first a puzzled expression +and then a burst of half-shamefaced amusement from +Mr. Sheridan.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You evidently remember our conversation very +clearly,” he remarked.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, yes, I do. I’ve thought about it quite often—that +is, about some of the things you said.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And I must add that you seem to take great +interest in your friends.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I suppose,” replied Jane with a sigh, “that <em class="italics">you</em> +think I’m an awful busybody, too. Well, if I am +I can’t help it. I mean well.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Sheridan chuckled again. He had never before +met any youngster who amused him quite as +much as Jane did.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Was it because you brought some pressure to +bear on—er—Paul that he interrupted my dance +with Miss Hartshorn?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes,” answered Jane absently.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You seem to find it easy to make people do what +you want.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, not really—not at all. I had an awful +time with Paul.” Then after a short pause, she +added, “I’m awfully glad you came to-night. It +seems to have cheered you up.”</p> +<!-- File: 146.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Why do you think I needed cheering up?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Because you were so gloomy.”</p> +<p class="pnext">With a smile Mr. Sheridan changed the topic by +suggesting that he get some refreshments, and to +this proposition Jane assented enthusiastically.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you remember that Miss Lily I told you +about?” she inquired casually, when she had finished +her ice. “There she is.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“The very pretty young lady in the Spanish +costume?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. She’s horribly pretty, isn’t she? Would +you like to dance with her?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Very much. Only I haven’t had the pleasure——”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, <em class="italics">I’ll</em> introduce you to her, if you like,” interrupted +Jane, putting her plate on the window +sill.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Sheridan raised his head, and looked at Jane +with a touch of wariness. But her face was innocence +itself, utterly disarming in its childlike simplicity.</p> +<p class="pnext">Enormously amused, he gravely followed her +across the room, to where Lily was sitting, chatting +gaily to the two Webster boys; and Jane sedately +performed the ceremony of introduction. Then, +well-satisfied with her accomplishment, and feeling +that she could do no more at present for these two, +she retired to her eyrie in the hayloft, entirely forgetful +of the unhappy Paul.</p> +<p class="pnext">It is just possible that, as, out of the corner of +her eyes she saw Mr. Sheridan approaching, Lily +pretended to be enjoying the conversation of the +Webster boys a little more than she really was. She +felt the color burning in her cheeks, and was angry +with herself.</p> +<p class="pnext">“He’ll think I’m just a—a silly village girl,” she +thought. Her natural shyness was greatly increased +by the presence of this young man with his indescribable +air of self-confidence; he was not at all like +the two simple hearty, countrified Webster boys. +There was something about him that marked him +unmistakably as a product of city life, of ease, and +rather varied worldly experience, and for some reason +this made her a little bit afraid of him; or, perhaps +afraid of herself. Usually the least self-conscious +person in the world, she now found herself +filled with misgivings about herself. She was +afraid that there were numberless shortcomings +about her of which she was unaware, but which he +would not fail to notice; and this thought stung +her pride. Furthermore, she was a trifle piqued +at his attentiveness to Amelia, though not for worlds +would she have admitted that any such silly vanity +existed in her. Added to all this, was the sting that +Amelia had left in her sensitive mind. Perhaps he +had thought it undignified of her to have chatted +with him so informally that day in the field—and +then he had seen her peeping at him from the window.</p> +<p class="pnext">All these doubts excited in her a desire to snub +him a little. He was <em class="italics">not</em> to think her just a “silly +village girl.” Perhaps her gay, dashing costume +made her feel unlike herself, and gave her some of +the self-confidence that she lacked by nature. Indeed, +the pretty senorita was altogether quite a different +person, from the simple, artless girl that +Timothy Sheridan remembered so vividly. He was +himself a thoroughly simple young man, and he was +puzzled by the change in her.</p> +<p class="pnext">Fluttering her fan nervously, she chatted with +him, asked him questions, laughed,—all with a little +air of frivolity, and carelessness. She felt a sort of +resentment toward him, and this lead her once or +twice to make a remark designed “to take him down +off the high horse” that she imagined (on no +grounds whatever) that he had mounted. His expression +of bewilderment and polite surprise gave +her a satisfaction that was not unmixed with regret +and displeasure at herself. At length, when the +music started up again, he asked her to dance. By +this time, his manner had grown a little cold and +formal, and Lily was piqued. So, with a little shake +of her head, she told him that she had promised this +one to Mr. Webster. There was something in her +slight hesitation before she answered that made +him feel that this was not quite true; and, hurt and +puzzled, he bowed, expressed his regret, and the hope +that he might have the pleasure later, and withdrew. +On the whole, Jane’s diplomacy had been anything +but successful.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Sheridan slipped out to smoke a cigar in the +fresh, cold air, and to meditate on the irritating +vagaries of the feminine gender. Lily’s reception +had hurt him more than he liked to admit even to +himself.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What was the matter with her? She wasn’t a +bit like that before—she seemed so gentle and unspoiled +and kind. Hang it, there’s no way of understanding +what a girl really is like, anyhow. I’ve +just been an idiot.”</p> +<p class="pnext">After a moment or two, he told himself fiercely,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, if she doesn’t want to dance with me, I +certainly shan’t bother her.”</p> +<p class="pnext">A little later, he threw away his cigar, and went +in again. But he did not dance. He sat and talked +pleasantly to Mrs. Webster for twenty minutes or +so, and then joined his host by the fire, with whom +he discussed agriculture and politics for the rest of +the evening.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the meantime, Paul, deserted by Jane, had +managed to extricate himself from the toils of the +fair Amelia, and possessed by a deep sense of injury, +had climbed up again to the hayloft, with the +double purpose of expressing his indignant feelings +to Jane, and getting well out of the reach of his +recent partner.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I must say—if that’s the way you keep a +bargain—” he began. Jane looked around at him +with an abstracted expression, and then unable to +control herself at the sight of his aggrieved face, +burst into the most unsympathetic laughter.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, you poor creature! I <em class="italics">am</em> sorry! I forgot +all about you!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you think you’re giving me fresh +information?” inquired Paul, in tones of bitterest sarcasm.</p> +<p class="pnext">“How <em class="italics">did</em> you get away?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Much you care!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“There, don’t be angry. Tell me how you <em class="italics">did</em> get +away?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“If you must know—I just bolted.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Paul!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Couldn’t help it. Just had to. Sorry if it was +uncouth and all that—but there are limits to human +endurance!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now who’s hard on Amelia?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul grinned unwillingly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I guess you were about right. The whole time +I was with her, she was picking on things about people—all +the other girls who were the least bit pretty. +Not plain, straight-forward out-and-out wallops, +mind you, but all sorts of sweet and sly—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I know her way. And did you just up and +leave her?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No. We pranced around a while, and then she +sat down, and made me fan her. And then we +pranced around some more—until I thought I was +going to die, and she kept talking—first about what +she thought about girls nowadays, and then about +poetry—you can imagine about how much I had to +say to that sort of stuff. And then we pranced +around some more, and by that time I’d concluded +that I had only myself to rely on”—this with renewed +bitterness, “so I told the woman that I had +a—a weak heart, and guessed I’d better get a little +air—”</p> +<!-- File: 151.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Paul, you didn’t!” cried Jane, horrified.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, I did,” said Paul, grimly. “I’d gotten to +the point where I’d have flopped down, and played +dead if necessary. She seemed to swallow the +story, bait, line and hook, and was quite sympathetic—and +here I am, and the next time you try to get +me into a fix like that—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I say,” interrupted Jane, “Mr. Sheridan hasn’t +danced with Lily at all! He’s gone and plopped +himself down with all those old fogies around the +fire!”</p> +<p class="pnext">At this Paul took his turn to chuckle.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Serves you right! <em class="italics">Now</em> will you keep your fingers +out of other people’s pies? I told you you +were too young to be meddling with such things. +But I guess you’re just like all women—jump +at conclusions, and then start trying to run +things—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You think you’re awfully clever, don’t you?” +retorted Jane acidly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Not clever—just humanly intelligent. Intuition +may be all right for women, but plain horse-sense +is good enough for me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What’s intuition?” demanded Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“The thing that makes girls think they know +more than men do,” replied Paul, scornfully. “Your +friend Amelia says she’s got a lot of it. Ask her +what it is.” Then he turned to her with an exasperating +grin; he was getting immeasurable satisfaction +out of her discomfiture. “Practice +what you preach, old lady. I guess it’s about +time that <em class="italics">you</em> left a thing or two to Providence.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane felt that it was time to change the subject.</p> +<p class="pnext">“People are queer,” she remarked.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ve heard that before,” said Paul, rubbing his +nose, “I’ve observed it, and I know it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think you’re sort of detestable to-night.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s your fault, then. I think you’ve ruined my +disposition for life. The next thing you’ll be trying +to make me be sweet to that fat old dowager +with the moustaches!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">Hush</em>, Paul! That’s Mrs. Deacon.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Nobody could hear me in all this noise. She +seems in an awful stew about something, doesn’t +she?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane did not answer. Paul stared at her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What’s the matter with you? You look as if +you were going to have a fit.” Still Jane did not +answer. There was indeed a frozen look on her +face.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well,” said Paul, eyeing her, “what have you +been up to now?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“N-nothing,” said Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“That won’t go with me, old salt. What have +you done to that poor, defenseless old widow?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I—I’m afraid I’ve made rather a mess,” Jane +confessed, faintly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I’m quite sure of that. And you won’t +catch me coming to the rescue again. Here I am +and here I stay until I go home under Uncle Peter’s +sheltering wing. Well, what have you done?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I—I didn’t mean—”</p> +<!-- File: 153.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Of course not. Your kind never do. They’ll +have a revolution in this town, if they keep you here +until you’ve grown up—which I doubt very much.” +Then, seeing that she was really distressed, he patted +her hand, and said, consolingly, “There, tell your +Aunt Rebecca what you’ve done—I’ll help you out, +if I must.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No one can help me,” said Jane, darkly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is it murder this time? Well, tell me anyhow. +I’m always prepared for the worst with you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t tease, Paul. I sent her sleigh away,” +said Jane, with the calm of deep trouble.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You—<em class="italics">what</em>?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I said—I sent Mrs. Deacon’s sleigh away.”</p> +<p class="pnext">There was a pause, during which Paul made +every effort to guess what earthly designs Jane had +had in perpetrating such a peculiar deed. Then he +gave up.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You have something against Mrs. Deacon?” he +suggested, delicately. “You don’t like her moustaches, +perhaps? Or perhaps you think that a five +mile walk would be good for her health?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane was not listening.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I—you see, I thought it would be nice if Mr. +Sheridan took Lily home. And a little while ago +I was talking to Mr. Buchanan who brought the +Deacons here. He was sitting outside, and he +seemed awfully tired and sleepy, and kept saying +that late hours were bad for young and old; and +then I said that—that the Deacons weren’t going +back with him. And he didn’t wait a minute. He +just got into his sleigh, and went off like Santa +Claus. And now, it looks as if Mr. Sheridan and +Lily were mad at each other—and if Mrs. Deacon +finds out that I told Mr. Buchanan to go—I don’t +know <em class="italics">what</em> to do!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well!” said Paul, “I suppose you’re about the +<em class="italics">coolest</em>—rascal I ever met in my life. I don’t think +I’ve ever even heard of anyone like you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What shall I do?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do? Why, to be perfectly consistent with your +kind, after having gotten everything into a sweet +kettle-of-fish, just wash your hands of it. Leave it +to Providence—and hike for the tall timber.” Then +he began to chuckle, hugging himself, and shaking +up and down, in a rapture of mirth.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, don’t bother about it. They’ll get home all +right—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m not bothering about that. I’m thinking +about what’ll happen if Mrs. Deacon finds out that +I sent Mr. Buchanan away.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. She +hasn’t found out yet.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I wonder why Mr. Sheridan and Lily are mad at +each other.” Then she jumped up.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What are you going to do now?” demanded +Paul.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m going down.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Take my advice and stay where you are.” But +Jane was already on her way down the ladder.</p> +<p class="pnext">The party was beginning to break up. The wild +tooting of horns, the shrill notes of whistles, and +showers of confetti announced the New Year. +Jane made her way through the tangles of colored +streamers, and the knots of merry-makers toward +the huge chimney-place where a group of older people +were standing, watching the picturesque scene.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah-ha, here’s my girl again!” cried Mr. Webster. +“Come here and watch the fun with your old +god-father.”</p> +<p class="pnext">With his big hands on her shoulders, Jane leant +against him, and looked on as placidly as if there +were not a care in the world troubling her peace +of mind. When the noise had subsided a little, she +looked round and up at Mr. Webster’s face, and +raising her voice a little so that it was impossible for +Mr. Sheridan not to hear what she said, remarked,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Mr. Buchanan has gone home, and left the Deacons +here.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What? What is that?” said Mr. Webster +hastily. Jane repeated her remark, glancing furtively +at Mr. Sheridan, whose face had suddenly +grown rather red. But he stared straight ahead +and pretended not to have heard her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah, well, Sam can hitch up our sleigh in a moment,” +said Mr. Webster. “I daresay he’ll be only +too glad to take Lily home.” And he chuckled slyly.</p> +<p class="pnext">For some reason, Mr. Sheridan was able to hear +<em class="italics">this</em> remark quite distinctly. He looked around, +and after a momentary hesitation said,</p> +<p class="pnext">“There is no reason for that. Mrs. Deacon and +her daughter are near neighbors of mine, and I—I’d +be delighted to take them home.” And without +giving his host a chance to argue the point, strode +off hastily in the direction of the majestic dowager.</p> +<p class="pnext">By this time the old lady, undergoing the process +of being wrapped up in a dense cocoon of furs and +mantles, while the two Webster boys clamored for +the pleasure of putting on her carriage boots, was +quite besieged by young men begging to be allowed +to drive her home. Lily stood behind her chair, +smiling, but a little tired-looking.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Sheridan worked his way deftly and determinedly +through the group.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Will you let me drive you home, Mrs. Deacon?” +He did not look at Lily, and Lily dropped her eyes.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I am taking Miss—Mrs. Deacon home,” said +Sam Webster firmly, unconsciously grasping that +dignified lady’s plump foot more tightly, as if he +intended to hold her by it, should she attempt to +evade him.</p> +<p class="pnext">Now Mr. Sheridan <em class="italics">did</em> look, at Lily. Would +she or would she not prefer to go with him?</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, if Mr. Sheridan has—has room for us, +we needn’t trouble Sam, mamma,” said Lily, demurely. +“That is—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s no trouble,” interrupted Sam,—which was +quite true—“and I’ve got the sleigh already hitched +up”—which was not true. He sent an almost belligerent +glance at Mr. Sheridan, who ignored it.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Sheridan felt extraordinarily jubilant. Nothing +should prevent his taking Lily home—not if he +had to slaughter this mob of impertinent young +men in cold blood.</p> +<!-- File: 157.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">Then Mrs. Deacon, extricating her foot from +Sam’s convulsive grip, rose up. There was a warm +light in her eye, the peculiar, benevolent beam which +enlivens the glance of the far-sighted mamma as it +rests upon an eligible young man.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Mr. Sheridan, I thank you. I accept your pusillanimous +offer,” she said, in the full, bell-like +tone of a public official. “Samuel, we shall not +emburden you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">In vain did Sam assure her that he would be +only too happy, that there was nothing he would +like to do more; meanwhile sending at Lily reproachful +looks fit to melt a heart of stone. Lily +simply did not see them. In cool triumph, Mr. +Sheridan escorted the two ladies to his sleigh.</p> +<p class="pnext">An hour later,—it was after one o’clock—he entered +his library, where Peterson had kept the fire +burning, threw off his coat, and sat down to try to +work out the puzzle of Lily’s conduct. On the +way home, they had exchanged hardly six words. +But if Lily had been silent, the same could not be +said for her mamma. Even now he seemed to hear +the incessant, rich tones of Mrs. Deacon’s voice +ringing in his ear, as they say the booming of the +sea echoes in certain shells. He could not remember +whether he had ever answered her or not. But +Lily? It seemed evident to him that she had not +wanted to talk with him or to dance with him during +the party. It seemed equally evident that she <em class="italics">had</em> +wanted to drive home in his sleigh. Now what was +the meaning of behavior like that?</p> +<!-- File: 158.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">By two o’clock he had come to the conclusion that +she was a coquette, that he was a donkey, and that +the best thing he could do was to tell Peterson to +pack up and be ready to pull up their stakes the day +after to-morrow. He had been acting like an awful +fool anyway. He was twenty-five years old; too +old to be acting like a schoolboy. How in the +world had Mary Abbott been able to—</p> +<p class="pnext">By three o’clock he had come to another conclusion. +He wasn’t going to go away at all. He’d +be hanged if he’d be chased around the earth by +<em class="italics">women</em>. He was going to stay where he was. He +was going to go in for farming. He liked the +quaint old town, he liked the solid, intelligent, industrious, +practical people. He liked Mr. Webster +for instance, and Mrs. Webster, and Dolly, and +old Mr. Pyncheon, and he quite loved that little +Janey Lambert, and he liked—well, already the list +had grown to a fairly respectable length for a confirmed +misanthrope.</p> +<p class="pnext">At half past six, Peterson coming into the library +to see that everything was in order, discovered +his master sleeping placidly in the huge armchair, +surrounded by, almost buried under books, +pamphlets and almanacs which had never been +taken down from their shelves since the late Major +had been a young and hopeful devotee of farming. +He picked one up, and holding it at arm’s length +read the title, “Fertilizers and Fertilization.” The +old man drew a deep, long-suffering sigh.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Lord, it was bad enough before,” he thought +despondently, looking down at Mr. Tim, and shaking +his head slowly. “It can’t be that he’s goin’ in +to be a useful citizen. Whatever would the Major +say to that?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Then he suddenly remembered the old Major’s +invariable reply to such propositions. Quite undisturbed, +and in the most astounding French, he used +to say, “Searchez le Femme.”</p> +<!-- File: 160.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xpaul-and-carl"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id11">CHAPTER X—PAUL AND CARL</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Paul, in his heavy canvas apron, his sleeves rolled +up, flour in his hair, on his eyelashes, and on the end +of his nose, sat on a three-legged stool in front +of the door of the big oven. There was an expression +of such dogged concentration on his face, such +fierce intensity in the grim frown between his eyebrows, +that one might have thought he was expecting +to draw forth a new universe, remodelled +nearer to his heart’s desire, from the roasting bakeoven. +The event he was anticipating was indeed +of great moment not only to him but to at least +four other members of the household who had +gathered in the kitchen—Aunt Gertrude, Jane, +Elise, and ruddy little Anna, the bouncing little assistant +cook and shop-keeper, who never could +watch Paul’s culinary struggles without going into +a fit of giggling.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s been in twenty minutes,” announced Jane, +glancing at the clock. Paul raised his head and +glowered at her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Can you or can you not hold your tongue?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I can not,” answered Jane, frankly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Who’s making this cake?”</p> +<!-- File: 161.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Come, Janey, leave Paul alone and don’t bother +him,” said Elise. “Come over here and let me try +this sleeve to see if it fits.” Elise was engaged in +making over one of her mother’s gowns into a +school-dress for Jane. Jane obediently stood +through the process of a fitting, but craning around +to keep her eye on Paul.</p> +<p class="pnext">Suddenly, taking hold of the hot handle of the +oven-door with his apron, he flung it open; and +reaching in, pulled forth the huge cake pan.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There! Now, Aunt Gertrude, come and look +at this fellow! How’s <em class="italics">that</em> for a blooming success?” +His face simply beamed with pride as a +chorus of “Oh’s” and “Ah’s” greeted his first real +triumph. Five big disks of cake, delicately, perfectly +browned, light as a feather, he turned out +onto the wooden board.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Beautiful!” cried Aunt Gertrude. “I’ve never +made a better one myself, have I Elise? No, not +even your grandfather could make that cake more +perfectly.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul swelled out his broad chest.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now I am a Baker!” he announced. “<em class="italics">I’m</em> the +boss around here, and I think I’ll begin by firing—Jane!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane, delighted and quite as triumphant as he, +made a spring for him, and flinging both arms +around his waist hugged him ecstatically, shouting,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I knew you could do it! <em class="italics">I</em> said you could!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul tweaked her nose.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I suppose you’ll be saying <em class="italics">you</em> made that cake, +next. You couldn’t learn to bake an article like +that in a life time. Unhand me, woman, I’ve got +to fix the frosting.”</p> +<p class="pnext">His satisfaction sprang from a deeper source +than that of the mere success. Some people might +think it quite a trivial matter to make a good cake, +but Paul, during weeks of abject failure, had come +to consider that it required superhuman powers. +It must be remembered of course, that Winkler’s +cakes were not like any others, and that into the +mixing and baking of those delectable goodies there +had to go a skill and care that not many people +could give. Repeated failure had made Paul +moody; he had even begun to think that his lack +of success was attributable to some deep-rooted +weakness in himself. He had, in fact, begun to +give it quite an important significance; and, in his +earnestness, had even gone to the length of making +a curious pact with himself. He had determined +not to touch a pencil, not even to open the precious +box of paints that Jane had given him, until he had +learned to make cakes and bread that should be an +honor to the venerable traditions of his family. +Moreover, considerable reflection had convinced him +that Jane had been right in advising him to try to +win his uncle’s good will; and he had not liked to +have Mr. Lambert believe that he was deliberately +trying <em class="italics">not</em> to make good.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane understood very well the real cause of his +satisfaction; and she was as pleased as if he had accomplished +a Herculean task.</p> +<!-- File: 163.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">That night Mr. Lambert expressed his satisfaction +in Paul’s final success. He was a very just +man, and he did not fail to commend his nephew +for his patience.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I am glad to see, my boy, that you have taken a +reasonable view of your situation; and have so fully +realized your peculiar responsibilities.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Thereafter he began to treat Paul with a marked +difference of manner; he consulted him quite as +often as he consulted Carl, discussed domestic and +public business with him, entrusted important errands +to him, and, in a word, no longer treated him +as if he were an eccentric and willful child.</p> +<p class="pnext">Within the three months that had passed since +Paul had come to live with his relatives his position +had changed astonishingly. At the beginning of +February he found himself looked up to by the +“women-folk” as if he were a prime minister. He +suggested, and was allowed to carry into effect +several important changes in the simple business +system of the Bakery; and customers with special +requests were now referred to the big boy, who +handled their concerns and their temperaments with +perfect tact and good sense.</p> +<p class="pnext">But if Paul seemed at last to have given in to +his uncle’s wishes, he was in truth no more reconciled +to the lot which destiny had flung in his way +than before. He simply kept his own counsel.</p> +<p class="pnext">On the other hand two things had contributed +to teach patience to the impetuous boy, who never +in his life before had known anything like restraint. +At first he had consoled himself for his repeated defeats +in the simple matter of cake-baking by the +thought that he was designed for more impressive +things. But the impressive things were not ready to +be done yet, and he was being measured by his failure +in that which <em class="italics">was</em> at hand. And so it came +about that he put all his will to the simple, woman’s +task, until he had mastered it. In the process, he +had come, also, to take a more personal interest in +the family affairs; and no longer to think of himself +as an outsider, to whom the interests of his +kindly relatives were matters of total indifference. +He was proud, too, to bear the name of one of the +first inhabitants of Frederickstown. It made him +feel that he had some share in the little community; +he was no longer a boy “without a country,” as he +had told his farmer acquaintance. He knew everyone; +and he was more or less interested in their +various affairs. Once, after he had been listening +to some of the older men discussing, in his uncle’s +warehouse, a question which had arisen concerning +the matter of running the state highway through the +town, or turning it off from one of the outlying +roads, he had said laughingly to Jane that he was +getting a mild attack of “civic interest”; and then +after a moment’s thought, he had added more seriously, +“But it’s true. I’ve gotten pretty fond of +this place. I almost feel as if I belong to it, and +it belongs to me. I’d like to make it proud of me +some day. It’s all very nice and fine to say that +you’re an independent citizen, and don’t hail from +anywhere in particular, but you <em class="italics">do</em> feel lonely +and left-out, and there are lots of things you never +can understand. Lots of things,” he repeated, +with more emphasis. “I’ve seen dozens of fellows +knocking around the world, coming from nowhere +in particular, and going nowhere in particular. +Some of ’em were pretty clever, I guess—I’d hear +’em talking, sometimes on board ship, sometimes +around the tables in the taverns. I used to listen +to them—they talked as if they knew a lot, and were +usually worked up over something,—Americans, +and Italians and down-and-out Englishmen. Lord, +how they used to shout and argue and pound their +fists. But, now that I think of it, all they said was +nothing much but a lot of noise. They were like +sea-weed floating around without its roots sticking +anywhere. They sounded awfully fiery and +patriotic, but I don’t think they honestly cared +much about any place under the sun, or about any +<em class="italics">thing</em>. And that’s a bad way to be. It would be +better, I think, to spend all your days in one place +and to love that place, even if you got kind of narrowed +down—than to belong nowhere.” These +grave views surprised Jane, and perhaps she did not +wholly understand Paul’s meaning. He was older +than she, and was beginning to think like a man, +and sometimes she could not quite follow his +thoughts. But she hoped that he meant that he +would find it possible to work out his own ambitions +without going away. Sometimes she wondered—he +spoke so little now about his plans—whether he +had given them up altogether; and this she did not +like to believe. But Jane, inquisitive as she was, +could hold her peace very patiently when she felt +that it was better so.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the second place, Paul had become very conscious +of his almost total lack of education. He +could read, and write, and figure well enough to +cast up the accounts with accuracy; but beyond these +elements he knew nothing save what he had gleaned +from his rough contact with the world. His ignorance +of many things which even the twins had +learned, sometimes startled even Jane; and Carl +had never left off making sly fun of him for counting +on his fingers like a kindergarten child when he +had to calculate a simple problem in multiplication.</p> +<p class="pnext">At first he had pretended to scorn his cousin’s +book-learning, but little by little he found himself +envying Carl’s extensive knowledge, which that +youth was rather overfond of airing. Every generation +of Winklers had seen to it that the young +ones acquired a sound, simple, thorough education; +and among them poor Uncle Franz had stood out +as the “dunce.”</p> +<p class="pnext">There was something quite pathetic in the sight +of the big boy sitting on those winter evenings, listening +to the twins lisp out their next day’s lessons +to Elise, and storing away as well as he could the +simple things he heard; and many times, he sat up +until after midnight, over the ashes of the fire, poring +over an old “Elementary History of the United +States,” humbly beginning where Janey had long +since finished; and stumbling over words that even +Lottie could spell easily.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the midst of these occupation, Paul spent little +time in dwelling upon plans for departure. He +seemed content to bide his time, if necessary, for +an indefinite period; and had settled into a state of +peace and amity toward all the world, with one and +only one exception.</p> +<p class="pnext">That exception was Carl. Just where the rub +came between the two boys it would be hard to say; +but hard as he tried to hold his temper in check, +Paul found it impossible either to hit it off with +Carl, or to discover the root of his cousin’s grudge +against him; and it often seemed to him that Carl +deliberately tried to rouse the old Adam in him. +Every day Carl’s disposition became more acid, and +as the spring progressed he became positively intolerable. +Paul had put up with his ill-humors as +well as he could, partly because, during the latter +part of the winter, Carl, who was the least sturdy +of his cousins had not been very well. He suffered +frequently from severe headaches, and his constant +studying, which he doubled as the spring examinations +approached, certainly did not improve either +his health or his disposition. Aunt Gertrude was +worried about him, and tried to coax him to spend +more of his time out of doors, for by the end of +March the snow had melted away from the hills, +the sun was growing warmer, and the trees already +turning green with buds opening in the genial +warmth of an early southern spring. He resisted +these gentle efforts, however, and even when the +long Easter holiday came, settled down to a process +of cramming, utterly indifferent to the delicious +weather. Even his father had one or two slight +difficulties with him, so uncertain was his temper, +and the other members of his family treated him +with kid gloves, but with Paul he squabbled almost +continually. Now Paul had mislaid some of his +papers; now he had left the stopper off the inkwell, +now he had put his shoes where he couldn’t +find them. More than once it occurred to Paul that +Carl was actually trying to goad him into leaving. +“But what on earth have I ever done to the idiot?” +he wondered. That Carl was jealous of him never +dawned on his mind; and yet it was the case. Carl +was jealous of the position his cousin had taken in +the household; he was jealous of his physical +strength; he was even jealous of the self-control +with which Paul curbed his anything but mild temper, +under his continual nagging.</p> +<p class="pnext">One day, flying into a rage over some trivial matter, +Carl informed him that the trouble with him +was “his confounded swell-head.” By this time, +Paul had reached the end of his tether; he retaliated, +with a sudden thrust that went home to Carl’s most +vulnerable spot.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What’s the matter with you, anyway?” he demanded +whirling upon his cousin. There was a +black frown on his face; and suddenly losing his +temper altogether, he seized Carl’s shoulder fiercely. +“I’m sick of your eternal whining, and snarling. +You snap at me at every chance you get,—but nothing +on earth would make you fight like a—a man! +Would it? Hey?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Carl wrenched himself out of his grip, and +backed toward the door, trembling with fury.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You’ve a swell-head,” he repeated, stubbornly, +his eyes flashing, “and you’re a—don’t you dare to +touch me! I hate you! You’re a bully—that’s +what you are!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“A bully! It’s you that’s the bully. You know +darn well that <em class="italics">you’re</em> safe in nagging the life out of +me—you’re pretty sure that I wouldn’t hurt a little +fellow like you. You’re a little coward, Carl Lambert, +but I tell you now that if you don’t stop your +eternal whining, I’ll—I’ll—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You’ll what?” sneered Carl.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ll thrash you until you can’t stand up. Do you +understand me?” And once more Paul’s big hand +clamped down on his shoulder. Carl’s face went +white, and a look of such utter terror superseded +the one of rage, that Paul was astonished.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What on earth is the matter with you?” he repeated, +in a milder tone. “Will you tell me what +I’ve ever done to you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I hate you! I’ve hated you ever since you came +here! Thrash me if you want to! Nothing will +ever make me hate you any worse than I do now!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul frowning more in bewilderment than anger +stared into his cousin’s pale, distorted face. Then +suddenly he asked,</p> +<p class="pnext">“If you hate me so much, why didn’t <em class="italics">you</em> tell +Uncle Peter about my playing billiards—for money—with +Jeff Roberts?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Carl did not answer.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I can’t make you out,” went on Paul, as if he +were talking to himself. “You bother the life out +of me, you squabble and row from morning to +night, and you never say <em class="italics">what</em> you’re down on me +for. I honestly believe that until recently you had +a lot to do with Uncle Peter’s bad opinion of me, +and yet—somehow, I <em class="italics">don’t</em> believe you hate me as +much as you think you do. If <em class="italics">you</em> had told Uncle +Peter about that business with Jeff Roberts he +would certainly—not certainly, perhaps, but very +likely—have sent me packing, and you would have +been rid of me, and yet you didn’t do it. And it +wasn’t as if you weren’t a tell-tale, because you are. +And what under the sun makes you say I’ve got a +swell-head?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s the truth,” repeated Carl, doggedly, and not +another word would he say. There was nothing +to do but to leave him alone; but the strain of putting +up with his sullen silence—which he maintained +for a full week—wore on Paul’s patience, until more +than once he was on the point of declaring his +definite intention to put up with it no longer. It was +at the end of that week—the last in a warm, summery +April—that matters changed suddenly, bringing +the first trouble that Paul had yet had to share +with his kinsfolk.</p> +<p class="pnext">One warm Saturday afternoon, when it was May +in everything but name, Jane revelling in the last +days of the spring vacation proposed a long walk +into the country. The twins, Paul, and Elise approved +heartily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And try to coax Carl out, too, Lisa,” said Aunt +Gertrude, who wanted to stay at home to do some +mending while she took charge of the shop. “He +doesn’t take any exercise at all these days.”</p> +<p class="pnext">At first Carl growled, and said he wished they’d +leave him alone, but just as Elise had given up trying +to persuade him, he suddenly changed his mind; +though still grumbling as if they were making him +do something against his will, joined the jolly little +party. But it cannot be said that he was a particularly +lively member of it. He looked pale and +sulky, walked by himself, and with a moody expression +kept his eyes on Jane and Paul as if their high +spirits, their perfect camaraderie angered him. And +in fact, not the least of his grievances against Paul +was Jane’s affection for him; for cold and selfish as +Carl might be, he loved Jane in his own way, and +in addition, he hated not to be the chief object of +interest. Besides, he was feeling half ill again.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Shall we ask Lily to come with us?” suggested +Elise, as they reached the top of Sheridan Lane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Let’s ask everyone we meet,” said Jane, “everybody! +Nobody ought to stay cooped up indoors to-day. +Poor Lily—she’s practising again.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And in fact Lily’s voice, a little listless and monotonous +to-day came sweetly through the quiet air; +there did not seem to be much joy in Schubert’s +beautiful little spring song as she sang it—“And +winking Mary-buds begin, to ope their golden +eyes—” she broke off in the middle of the second +part.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Lily!”</p> +<p class="pnext">A moment later she appeared at the window.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come along! You’ve got to come along with +us!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Where are you going?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“A-maying.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But it isn’t May,” said Lily trying to sound +merry. Nevertheless, in another minute she was +with them, swinging her straw hat on her arm. On +down the lane they went, under the light shade of +the budding trees, past the old iron fountain.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Whoa. Where are you off to?” shouted the +voice of some invisible being; there was a scrambling, +scraping sound in the branches of a tree that, +growing inside of the wall around the Sheridan +place, extended its patriarchal boughs across the +road; and presently the lord of the manor, hot, and +red, with a three foot saw in his hand swung gracefully +into view.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Are you going to have a party without <em class="italics">me</em>?” +he asked in an injured tone. “Can’t I come, too?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“There!” said Jane in a low tone, giving Paul a +surreptitious pinch, “what did I tell you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Are you going to begin meddling with that +again?” demanded Paul, also in a low tone, remembering +bitterly the unhappy part he had been called +upon to play at the Webster’s party. “Because if +so, I’m going home.”</p> +<!-- File: 173.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“I’ll meddle if I think it’s necessary,” returned +Jane, calmly, “but I don’t believe it will be.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And, indeed, from the first it seemed quite plain +that her valuable services were not required. With +the air of one who feels that her small tasks have +been well done, she watched Lily and Mr. Sheridan +who wandered on ahead, leading the way across the +old wooden bridge, and up the hill.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane said frankly to Paul that she would “sort of +like to hear what they were talking about,” but +Paul was pained, and undertook to lecture her on +the spot for her deplorable habits.</p> +<p class="pnext">On each side of the road lay the broad fields, +where, in the furrows of dark earth, freshly +ploughed, young corn was already thrusting upwards +its vivid green blades.</p> +<p class="pnext">“How do you like my scare-crow?” Mr. Sheridan +called back, waving gaily toward the grotesque figure +which bore an absurd resemblance to Peterson. +“I made Peterson dress him up in his winter suit. +Isn’t he a fine, impressive fellow, though. How do +you think he’d strike you if you were a crow?” +Then without waiting for an answer, he went on +talking to Lily, describing all his late activities in +the line of agriculture, his plans for new buildings +on his land, and airing, boyishly all his newly acquired—and +perhaps not entirely assimilated—knowledge +of farming. Jane might have found this +talk distinctly disappointing, but to Lily everything +that he said seemed remarkable.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And then, perhaps, you are going to live here—a +good deal of the time?” she asked timidly. “I +very glad that you have found so much to interest +you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Sheridan turned to help her over a stile. +For some reason, her words, so simply said, and +without the slightest tinge of coquetry, seemed to +disconcert him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I—yes. I—have grown very much attached +to Frederickstown—and farming is interesting because—because—” +But for the life of him he +could not think of any reason <em class="italics">why</em>.</p> +<p class="pnext">The little party trailed across the field, all walking +together now, laughing and talking. Only Carl +hung behind. To begin with, he was not yet on +speaking terms with Paul, and he was piqued at +Jane, and the sunlight made his over-strained eyes +ache, and he was thoroughly tired out already. +Lily was walking arm in arm with Elise, and both +were talking to Mr. Sheridan, the twins were running +ahead, trying to catch the yellow butterflies +that they frightened away from the early field-flowers; +and Paul and Jane strolled along side by +side sometimes joining in the talk of the others, +sometimes discussing their own affairs. But at +last Jane turned around, and noticing for the first +time how Carl was lagging, called to him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why don’t you come and walk with us, Carl?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m all right as I am, amn’t I?” he returned. +Jane shrugged her shoulders.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What’s the matter with him?” she asked Paul. +“Have you had another quarrel?”</p> +<!-- File: 175.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Not since Monday,—haven’t had a chance. He +won’t speak to me. I don’t know what’s the matter +with him,” Paul shook his head. “I <em class="italics">have</em> tried +to get along with him, but I can’t seem to work it. +He says he hates me, and that he’s always hated me—and +maybe its true, though I don’t see why. I +mean that I’ve never given him any cause that I +know of. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. +I seem to make him downright unhappy—he acts as +if I had slipped into his shoes, and I’ve never taken +anything he wanted, have I?” and after a short +pause, he added, “And I’m sure that I don’t want +anything he has. It seems to get worse with him all +the time. Perhaps, Janey, his feelings may be +hurt because you and I get along so well. Maybe +I’d feel the same way if I were your brother, and +he were a ‘swell-head’ cousin from nowhere. +After a bit, why don’t you drop back with +him?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why should he hate you?” wondered Jane. “I +could understand if you were really—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“If you were like what you <em class="italics">seemed</em> to be like the +first night you were here,” she said frankly. “I +didn’t like you then either. I didn’t like you for +quite a long time. I didn’t like you until you said +that you were going away.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Maybe Carl would like me better if I told him +that,” said Paul, laughing, but with a rather sad +expression in his eyes. “And I’ve been thinking +lately—”</p> +<!-- File: 176.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“What?” asked Jane, quickly, looking up into his +face.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ve been thinking that I—perhaps I ought to, +Janey.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, no, no, <em class="italics">no</em>! Not yet, Paul! You said, just +the other day—and what a silly little thing to make +so much of. Lots of <em class="italics">brothers</em> squabble and call +each other names—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But it doesn’t make a particularly happy household, +does it? I don’t want to go, Janey—not yet. +J don’t want to go until—it’s a hard thing to explain +exactly, but this is the way it is. When I first came, +I was thinking only of one thing—father was gone, +and I didn’t care for anyone in the world, and I +didn’t want to. I wanted to work by myself and for +myself, in the way that seemed most to my liking—and +when I found that Uncle had other plans for +me, and intended to force me into them, it made me +furious—and what was worse was the thought that +I had to do either as Uncle wanted or—well, <em class="italics">starve</em>, +if I was out of luck. And I was afraid of starving, +being an ordinary human being. I started to run +away the first night I was here—Carl knows that—and +I didn’t because I was afraid to. He knows +that, too. And so I stayed on, planning to make a +break as soon as I could. And I hated everything—I +was perfectly miserable—until that night, do +you remember, when we had that talk by the fire. +After that, I began to look at things differently. +It seemed to me that I’d been acting like a donkey, +and so I decided to do as you said—make the best +of things as I found them, and see what would happen. +And now—I don’t know how it is—but +you’ve all been so good to me, and it makes a difference +not to be all alone. Now, when I think of the +fine things I may do some day, I think of how you +all may be proud of me, and how—perhaps—maybe +Frederickstown would be proud of—all that seems +silly, doesn’t it—but anyway that’s the reason why +I’d hate to go away now—why I’d hate to go away +with any hard feeling behind me. That is, unless +it simply <em class="italics">had</em> to be. Men <em class="italics">have</em> lived alone, and +worked and done great things with no one to care +whether they lived or died—and I could do it, too. +But, over and above cake-baking—” he laughed, +as if a little ashamed of his own seriousness, “I’ve +learned that—I’ve learned that it is a better thing +not to be all alone.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane made no reply, and presently Paul went on,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I daresay I made myself pretty disagreeable at +first, and I don’t wonder that Carl hated me then—but +I <em class="italics">have</em> tried to be decent to him, and to make +him like me. If he doesn’t, it certainly isn’t his +fault—it can’t be helped. Only, I haven’t any right—I +mean, if he’s going to be miserable while I’m +around, if I get on his nerves every minute—it isn’t +as if we were little kids, we’ll soon be men, and two +men quarrelling with each other in one family can +make an awful mess of things. You were all happy +together before I came.” As he said this he looked +down gravely into the round, sober little face beside +him. “Don’t you see, Janey?”</p> +<!-- File: 178.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">Janey did not answer; but a little later as they all +turned into the cool shade of the woods, she dropped +back until she was walking near Carl. She had too +much instinctive wisdom to seem to do so deliberately, +and she did not talk to him until the twins +started to hunt for violets and jacks-in-the-pulpit, +when she began to remind him of the places they had +explored the summer before, and the grotto they +had found the summer before that until he began to +feel as if he were receiving the attention which was +his brotherly due.</p> +<p class="pnext">The beautiful afternoon wore on happily. For +a long time they all sat talking and laughing under +the trees, sorting the white and purple violets that +they had picked. Once or twice Tim Sheridan +thought of what Phil Blackstone and Johnny +Everett and Mary and all the rest of them would +say to his bucolic pleasures, and grinned at the +thought of the expressions they would wear; and he +wondered himself at his own enjoyment in the company +of these simple young people—but he was having +a better time than he had ever had in his life, +and even Peterson was beginning to show some +interest in his eccentric master’s latest occupations.</p> +<p class="pnext">And for a time, Carl, too, joined in the chatter, as +poor little Janey, inwardly saddened by what Paul +had told her so simply, tried to coax him out of his +sullen humor.</p> +<p class="pnext">When, at length they all started homeward, he +even linked his arm through hers. Now, she +thought, was the time to ask him what was the root +of his ill-feeling against Paul, now was the time +to tell him what Paul had said—she hated so for +people to be unhappy for no reason, or for silly reasons.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Carl, listen,” she began, “I want to—” but he +suddenly interrupted her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Look here, Jane—I don’t know what’s the matter +with me. But I—I feel like the dickens.”</p> +<p class="pnext">She did not quite understand him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What about?” she asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What about? About nothing—my head aches +like all get-out, and every now and then everything +gets to jiggling in front of my eyes.” She looked +at him in alarm, and saw that his face was terribly +pale.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Carl! You mean you’re ill? Let me—oh, +what’s the matter?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“For heaven’s sake, don’t kick up a fuss now. +No, don’t tell Elise,” he said, impatiently. “I’ll get +home all right. And don’t scare mother to death +when we get there. I guess it’s the sun or something. +And—don’t walk so fast.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane, more frightened by the look of his face, +than by his words, obediently slackened her pace. +The others were eight or ten yards ahead of +them.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hurry up, Janey—we’ll be late for supper,” +called Elise, glancing back at them. Jane looked +pleadingly at Carl.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I <em class="italics">have</em> to tell Elise. Please, Carl, dear, don’t be +foolish.”</p> +<!-- File: 180.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“No, you must <em class="italics">not</em>. I tell you I won’t have them +all fussing over me, and talking, and asking questions!” +he exclaimed, with a sudden flash of temper. +“Let ’em go ahead if they want to.”</p> +<p class="pnext">They dropped farther and farther behind, until +the others were already crossing the bridge as they +were just gaining the road. But Paul, strolling +along with his hands in his pockets whistling an accompaniment +to his own thoughts was midway between +the two divisions of the party.</p> +<p class="pnext">Suddenly Carl declared that he had to rest until +his head stopped throbbing a bit. Just then Paul +happened to glance back.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hey! Are you going to spend the summer +back there?” he shouted, cheerfully, but the next +moment he seemed to guess that something was +wrong, for after a little hesitation, he turned and +started to walk toward them.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We’re coming,” said Jane, “only Carl has a little +headache, and he wanted to rest a minute.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul looked critically at his cousin’s white face. +He did not waste any time in asking the well-meant +questions that Carl found so objectionable, but said +simply,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I guess you’d better let me help you, Carl.”</p> +<p class="pnext">To Jane’s surprise there was no hostility in her +brother’s eyes.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I won’t have <em class="italics">them</em> make a fuss over me, do you +hear,” he said in a dull voice. Paul glanced at +Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You cut along with the others, Janey. There’s +a short cut through this field. Carl and I’ll go this +way.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good idea,” muttered Carl. “Guess we’ll—try +that, Jane.” And with an effort, he got to his feet.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Take my arm,” said Paul.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane watched them as they started across the field, +and then obediently ran at full speed to catch up +with the laughing, chattering group ahead.</p> +<p class="pnext">As for the two sworn enemies, they made their +way slowly along the little, meandering footpath, +that cut through the field, Carl leaning more and +more heavily on Paul’s sturdy arm, frankly, if +silently grateful for its solid support. They said +nothing, and Paul, who realized more than Jane had +that Carl was seriously ill, wore a grave expression. +He was thinking, not of the many bitter words that +Carl had showered on him, but of the angry threat +he himself had uttered, and the memory of it made +him wince.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We’ve only a little way to go, now, cousin,” he +said gently. “Would you like me to give you a lift?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Carl, quite exhausted by now only looked at his +cousin incredulously.</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">You</em> couldn’t carry me,” he said, thickly, and +then drawing a long breath, he added, “but I wish +to goodness you could!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul smiled.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I guess you aren’t much heavier than a keg of +olives,” and with that, he lifted Carl quite easily in +his arms, and set off at a quicker stride across the +field.</p> +<!-- File: 182.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">An hour later poor Carl was far past caring +whether “they” made a fuss over him or not. But +indeed the worst part of it was that there was very +little fuss made at all. His room was so quiet that +the chirping of the birds in the budding trees outside +his window, the sound of voices in the street +below could all be heard distinctly, and yet Aunt +Gertrude and Mr. Lambert sat beside his bed, and +Janey was there, clinging to her father’s hand, and +Paul sat half hidden in the little window embrasure, +staring out soberly at the fading sky. The shock +and suddenness of it all had stunned the little +family.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was only Mr. Lambert’s face that Paul could +see clearly in the dusk of the room, and the transformation +it had undergone since the old man realized +the danger of his only son, left an indelible +memory on the boy’s mind. All its pompousness +had fled—it looked old and helpless and humble. +And apart as he was, Paul, looking upon their fear +and sorrow, felt that he was being welded to his own +people. All his own desires seemed at that moment, +small and selfish, and with a thrill of pity, +he vowed silently that if the need came, he was +ready to lay aside his own hopes forever, without +regret, and be their son.</p> +<!-- File: 183.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xicarl-squares-his-debt"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id12">CHAPTER XI—CARL SQUARES HIS DEBT</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">It was not until the nineteenth of May that the +burly, grey-haired little doctor could say definitely +that Carl would get well. And even then he could +not entirely dissolve the cloud that hung over the +family. Carl’s eyes which had always been weak +and near-sighted had been gravely injured by incessant +overstraining, and the doctor said frankly +enough that unless he took the greatest care of +them there was a strong possibility of his losing his +sight.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No books, Mrs. Lambert. Nothing but rest,” +he said, firmly. “Later, he must be out of doors. +Plenty of exercise, plenty of sleep, and no study for +at least a year.”</p> +<p class="pnext">This program, so entirely opposed to all Carl’s +tastes was not imparted to him until he was well on +the road to recovery. He listened to it stoically, +propped up among Aunt Gertrude’s downiest feather +pillows, in the dark bedroom, a green shade almost +bandaging his eyes, and hiding half of his thin +white face.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Does the old boy think there’s a likelihood of +my being blind anyway?” he inquired, using the +blunt word without a tremor. No one answered +him. His face turned a shade paler as he turned +helplessly from one side to the other trying to +guess where his mother and father were standing. +Mr. Lambert attempted to say something, but all he +could do was to take his son’s groping hand in +his.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well—that’s all right, father. I guess I’ll go +to sleep now,” said Carl, after a short pause. +“There’s no good kicking up a fuss about that yet.” +And drawing his hand away he lay down quietly, +turning his face to the wall. He was quite still, until, +thinking that he was asleep, his father and +mother left the room noiselessly, Mr. Lambert with +his arm around his wife’s shoulders.</p> +<p class="pnext">Then, wide-awake, Carl almost savagely worked +himself up on his pillows, and sat alone, thinking.</p> +<p class="pnext">He wondered what time it was. He did not know +whether it was morning or afternoon. That it was +day and not night he could guess from the busy +rumbling of wagons on the street, and the soft chattering +of the twins’ voices in the little garden below. +Then he heard the solemn, monotonous tones +of the old church clock.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Just noon-day,” he thought. “The twins have +been home all morning, so school must have closed. +And it must be fair, or they wouldn’t be playing in +the garden.”</p> +<p class="pnext">At that moment he heard careful, tiptoeing footsteps +outside his door. He had already become +quick at recognizing the tread of different members +of the family, and without the least uncertainty he +called out,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Paul!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Then he heard the door open.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I thought you were asleep,” said Paul’s voice.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I’m not.” Then in a jocose tone, Carl +said, “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, yes,” answered Paul, in some surprise. +“Look here—have you been taking off that bandage?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No. But it <em class="italics">is</em> a beautiful day isn’t it? I just +wanted to be sure I guessed right.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul said nothing. To him there was something +indescribably terrible and touching in Carl’s +cheerfulness, and in the sight of that half-hidden +face turned nearly but not exactly in his direction.</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">You</em> heard what the doctor said,” said Carl +abruptly, “there’s a chance that I may be blind, +isn’t there? Come on, and tell me. You certainly +can’t keep me from knowing sooner or later. <em class="italics">Did</em> +he say that?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. He did,” Paul replied briefly. Carl +seemed to think this over quite calmly for a moment +or two; then with a dignity that he had never shown +before, he said slowly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“You once said I was a coward, cousin. And +you were right. I <em class="italics">am</em> a coward in the way you big +fellows think of it. But maybe I’m not a coward +in <em class="italics">every</em> way. Maybe I’m not. I don’t know. +Maybe I am.” +Paul said nothing, but stood helplessly with his +hands on the back of the chair.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sit down—that is, if you want to,” Carl suggested +rather awkwardly. “It isn’t time for your +lunch yet, is it? Where’s Janey?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“She’s helping Elise.” Paul sat down, crossed +his legs and looked at his cousin, not knowing exactly +what else to say. He looked odd enough +sitting there, in his apron, his sleeves rolled up and +his shirt open at the neck, sunburnt and strong in +contrast to the bony, pallid boy in the bed.</p> +<p class="pnext">Carl fingered his eyeshade wistfully.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Lord, I wish I could take this confounded +thing off for just a minute,” he muttered moving +his head restlessly. “Do <em class="italics">you</em> believe what the +doctor says?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I believe you’ll be all right in six months,” said +Paul. Carl sat bolt upright.</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">Do</em> you think so? Do you really. You aren’t +saying that just to cheer me up? No, <em class="italics">you</em> wouldn’t +do that, would you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No,” said Paul, “I wouldn’t.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you think I’ll be able to go back to school +next year?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No,” said Paul, “I don’t.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You don’t?” Then Carl laughed. “Well, I’m +glad you say what you think.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s very likely, though, that you’ll be able to +study a little, and a fellow as clever as you are +won’t be behind long,” went on Paul, gravely. +Carl was vastly pleased at the compliment.</p> +<!-- File: 187.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“What makes you think I’m—clever?” he asked +presently.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, you <em class="italics">are</em>,” answered Paul in a surprised +tone, and then with a rather sad little laugh, he +added, “I wish I knew one tenth—one <em class="italics">hundredth</em> +as much as you do. I’m a dunce, I don’t know as +much as Lottie does—not nearly.”</p> +<p class="pnext">In the face of this humble remark, Carl remembered +rather uncomfortably the innumerable jibes +he had directed at his cousin’s ignorance.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, you can teach yourself a lot,” he said a +little patronizingly. Paul laughed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I try to. But I—I can’t even read decently, +and it takes the dickens of a long time.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Can’t <em class="italics">read</em>!” cried Carl.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, not enough to boast of. I never went to +school in my life. A long time ago my mother or +somebody must have taught me something, and +then I picked up what I could here and there. +There was an old fellow I knew years ago,—he +was a passenger on a little coast trading vessel—we +were going from Marseilles down to the south +of Italy, and on the voyage, which was pretty slow,—because +we sometimes stayed for two or three +days at different ports,—he taught me a few things. +And then I learned to read French pretty well, and +a little Italian, and a young Englishman—a college +fellow, who’d given up studying for the ministry +and run away to sea—even taught me some Latin, +though what under Heaven he thought I’d do with +it I don’t know. He was a funny one,” said Paul, +chuckling reminiscently, “a thin little chap, with +a long nose. He used to say that every gentleman +should have a knowledge of the classics, and you’d +see him washing the deck, with copy of some old +Latin fellow’s poetry sticking out of his back +pocket.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What did he go to sea for?” inquired Carl; for +the first time he had deigned to listen to some of +Paul’s adventures, and he found himself getting +very much interested.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t know. His uncle was a lord or something—at +least he told me so, and I daresay it was +true. He said he was a younger son, though what +that had to do with it I don’t know. Anyway it +seemed to be an awfully important thing for me to +remember. He wanted to make something of himself, +he said. I told him he’d do better as—well, +anything but a cabin boy, or deck hand or whatever +he was. But he said he loved the sea—though +he was just about the worst sailor I ever saw.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What happened to him?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t remember. Oh, yes, I do. The poor +little cuss died—got typhus or something and off +he went. Bill Tyler told me about it. They buried +him at sea.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Who was Bill Tyler?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Bill was—everything! He was an old bird—older +than father. He’d done everything, seen +everything—you never knew such a man! He +couldn’t write his own name, but he was the canniest, +drollest—and talk about strength! Next to father, +I guess I liked him better than anyone on earth!” +Paul’s face glowed, and he launched forth into an +animated account of his friend’s virtues and exploits, +urged on eagerly by Carl, who made him go on every +time he stopped. There were no absurd exaggerations, +a la Munchausen, in his tales that day. He +was thinking only of amusing the sick, feeble boy, +and making him forget his own dreary thoughts. +Nor did he once reflect that it was this same boy +who had told him so passionately that he “hated +him, and always would.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Elise appearing at the door with Carl’s tray +stopped short at the sound of his laugh—the first +spontaneous laugh she had heard from him in many +a day.</p> +<p class="pnext">“How much better you seem, dear,” she said, +setting the tray on his knees, and shaking up his +pillows. “Paul, your lunch is waiting for you.” +She sent him a grateful glance.</p> +<p class="pnext">“If you haven’t anything special to do, come on +up when you’ve fed,” suggested Carl elegantly. +Elise nodded eagerly, and following Paul to the +door, said in a low voice,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I wish you would, cousin. There isn’t much to +be done to-day—I can take care of it, and it seems +to have done him so much good.”</p> +<p class="pnext">So Paul spent the afternoon, a long, sunny afternoon, +in that dark room, talking to his cousin, telling +him about people he had seen—and what a +heterogeneous collection they were!—places he had +visited, adventures he and his father had had together. +A whole new world he opened to the young +bookworm, who listened with his hands folded, and +a keen but detached interest, to all these tales of +action and happy-go-lucky wanderings.</p> +<p class="pnext">“All that’s great to hear about,” remarked Carl, +“but I don’t think I’d like to live that way. Too +much hopping about, and too—uncomfortable.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I suppose it was uncomfortable—but I never +knew what it was to <em class="italics">be</em> comfortable—that is, to be +sure of a good bed to sleep in, and plenty to eat, +and all that—so I never minded.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It must bore you to be cooped up here—baking +cakes! Ha-ha!” Carl laughed outright. “I never +thought before of how funny that was!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I have,” remarked Paul, drily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What do you suppose that Bill Tyler would say?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I can’t imagine,” replied Paul, smiling glumly. +“He’d probably say it was a good job, and that I +ought to thank Heaven for it. He was a practical +old egg, or he pretended to be. He was forever +preaching what he called ‘hard sense’—and getting +himself into more tight squeezes—he was worse +than father. He had more common sense and used +it less than any man I ever saw.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you really want to be a painter?” asked Carl +suddenly. “That’s such a queer thing to want to be.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, well,” said Paul, evidently not anxious to +pursue the subject.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And so—<em class="italics">useless</em>.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That’s what Bill Tyler used to say. And yet +<em class="italics">he</em> was the one who took me to a picture gallery for +the first time in my life—I was only eleven or +twelve years old. And it was there that I met old +Peguignot—so it was partly Bill’s fault that I began +to think about painting at all. The old duffer! +He’d spend an entire afternoon rambling around +some gallery, going into raptures over this picture +and that, pointing out what he liked and what he +didn’t like—and then when we’d come out, he’d say, +’but that’s all nonsense, and waste of time.’ ”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Who was Peguignot?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, he was a little artist—a funny, shabby, +excitable little guy, with a perfectly enormous moustache +that looked as if it were made out of a lot +of black hairpins; and his eyebrows were just like +it. When he talked and got enthusiastic about +something, they’d all work up and down. Bill and +I came upon him one day in some gallery or other. +He was sitting up on a high stool making a copy +of a big religious painting. Bill began to talk to +him, and, I suppose, just to tease him, started on +his favorite line about what nonsense it all was. +I thought Peguignot would blow up. He shook +a whole handful of wet paint-brushes in Bill’s face, +called him every name he could think of—I began +to laugh and then he turned on me, and told me I +was a miserable boy, and please both of us to go +far away from him. But I said I agreed with him +altogether, and then we both started in on Bill. +Well, anyhow it wound up by all of us getting to be +the best of friends; and after that Bill and I used +to go around and see him quite often. And he +taught me all I ever learned about painting. He +wasn’t very good himself, and he certainly wasn’t +successful, but he knew a lot, and when he wasn’t +exploding about something, he could tell what he +knew very clearly. Poor little beggar, he had a +hard time of it—he was as poverty-stricken as Job +most of the time.” And then Paul began to laugh. +“I remember one day his landlady came up to get +his rent. He heard her coming, and got into a perfect +panic, and was actually trying to crawl under +his bed when she knocked at the door. Then he got +very calm and dignified, and told me to let her in. +So in she came, and then an argument began, and +finally both of them started to weep and wring their +hands—you never heard such a rumpus. Finally +he said to her, ‘Madam, put me out. Put me out +on the streets—it is what I deserve,’ and he began +to hunt for his bedroom slippers which were the +things that were most precious to him I suppose. +And then she threw her apron over her head and +wailed, and said she couldn’t do that because he was +so ‘leetle.’ Well, at last he took a picture that I +had painted down from his easel, and said to her, +‘Madam, I give you this. Sell it, and keep the +money.’ Well, she stood there glowering as if she +simply couldn’t think of anything strong enough +to say; until she suddenly roared out, ‘Ah-h-h! +You leetle <em class="italics">moustache</em>! Why don’t you sell it <em class="italics">yourself</em>! +Then I should have my money.’ And she +took the picture with both hands, and banged him +over the head with it. But at last she said she’d +wait another month, and then she would have him +imprisoned—and off she went with my picture.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Carl laughed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And did he pay her the next month?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t know. In any case, he certainly wasn’t +imprisoned. But don’t think he took his debts +lightly. He was ashamed of them and he was +ashamed of himself; and he worked for money in +the only way he could, and never tried to shirk +his responsibilities. People knew that, and they +were lenient with him, because he was honest and +good and they loved him.”</p> +<p class="pnext">There was a pause, then Carl asked curiously, +but with some hesitation,</p> +<p class="pnext">“If I—if my eyes <em class="italics">don’t</em> get all right, what will +you do?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What do you mean?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I mean—will you stay on in the business?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“In any case, it’s my job, isn’t it?” returned +Paul evasively. Then suddenly, he dropped his face +in his hands. For so many nights, in the little room +to which he had been relegated since Carl’s illness, +he had been wrestling with that problem. A hundred +times he had decided that there would be only +one course open to him in the event that Carl should +not get well; he would stay with his family and +help them. His uncle was getting old, and the +silent, tragic appeal in the poor man’s eyes, and +his dreadful anxiety about his son had touched Paul +even more than Aunt Gertrude’s sorrow.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah, well, what’s the use of trying to settle the +whole course of your life,” he said aloud, but more +as if he were speaking to himself. “You get +worked up, and start pitying yourself before there’s +anything definite to pity yourself for.” Then suddenly, +he said, “Tell me, cousin, I have wanted +to ask you—why is it that you hated me? If you +don’t want to answer never mind. We seem to be +friends now—or I may be mistaken.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Carl was silent for several moments, then he said +rather gruffly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I—there was no reason perhaps. Let that be. +You were right—when you said that I didn’t hate +you as much as I thought I did.”</p> +<p class="pnext">That was the last reference that was made to +their former enmity. They were too different, perhaps, +ever to be really intimate, but the hatchet +was buried between them.</p> +<p class="pnext">During Carl’s convalescence Paul was with him a +great deal. His stock of stories seemed inexhaustible, +and in lieu of books Carl found them the only +source of novel entertainment to be had; and for the +time being Paul was exempted from his duties in the +Bakery to amuse his cousin. It was not any too +amusing for <em class="italics">him</em>; but he willingly passed hour after +hour at Carl’s bedside. It was the sight of the +bandaged eyes that kept his sympathy keen and +made him gentle and patient even when Carl was +fretful and hard to please.</p> +<p class="pnext">One day Carl said to him,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why don’t you read aloud to me? The doctor +says it’ll be all right now. I’ve a mountain of stuff +to make up for school, and we’ll both gain something.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul blushed. He was not particularly keen on +displaying his shortcomings outright to Carl, even +if he did confess them. But oh second thoughts, he +got the book that his cousin asked for, and opening +it, plunged in bravely. It was a humiliating experience +for him, to have to stop before a long +word, and pronounce it syllable by syllable, and +although Carl did not laugh at him, he corrected +him with an air of grave superiority that was even +more trying. But the very fact that he did not +shine in this particular province, increased Carl’s +good will toward him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You are getting on very well,” he said in a +patronizing tone. “Keep it up.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The books that they read frequently led to arguments—friendly +debates, and these were Carl’s special +delight. He liked to pretend that he was addressing +a jury, and would launch forth into a flood +of eloquence, to which Paul listened very respectfully, +usually taking care not to contradict his cousin +or to wound his vanity by remaining unconvinced +by his oratory. But sometimes he would get carried +away himself, and a vigorous battle would follow, +in which Paul had only his clear, simple reasoning to +pit against Carl’s confusing knowledge. But both +of them enjoyed it; Carl loved to dispute any point +at all, and Paul “liked the exercise.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But in the long run, Paul found Carl’s favorite +occupations very little to his taste. He grew weary +of his cousin’s books, with their long-winded dissertations, +he positively hated the dim room; and +the innumerable games of checkers that they played, +when Carl’s eyes finally began to improve, gradually +developed in him a profound detestation of that +pastime. His only satisfaction came to him from +his aunt’s and uncle’s gratitude.</p> +<p class="pnext">By the end of the month Carl was well enough to +sit up in a chair by the window for three or four +hours a clay, and even to take off his eyeshade for a +little while in the evening when the light was softer. +The family happiness over this improvement was +boundless, and in the late afternoons everyone +gathered in Carl’s room. These were gay occasions, +and even Mr. Lambert, who always sat beside his +son, and never took his eyes from his face, cracked +jokes, and laughed and was in the best humor +imaginable.</p> +<p class="pnext">One Sunday afternoon they were thus collected—all +of them, including Granny, who sat rocking +serenely back and forth, smiling benignly and a little +absent-mindedly upon them all, winding a skein of +deep magenta wool, which Lottie held for her. The +whole room was in pleasant disorder, books and +games lay scattered around, for Mr. Lambert had +relaxed his usual strict Sabbath rules while Carl was +ill, and permitted all sorts of uncustomary amusements. +Minie was cutting new paper dolls out of +the Sunday paper, and painting them in glorious +hues. Everyone was gossiping and chattering—everyone, +that is except Jane and Paul, who sat on +the little bench that made a seat in the embrasure of +the casement window.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane, who had missed her cousin severely during +the last weeks, was content to have him with her +again, and sat beside him, looking through the section +of the newspaper that Minie had graciously +spared. Paul, a trifle out of spirits, was staring out +of the window. It was open, admitting a gentle +evening breeze, which rustled through the full-blown +foliage of Jane’s beloved nut-tree. Below, on the +other side of the street some children were playing +hop-scotch. And from somewhere came the sound +of boyish voices singing in “close harmony”—“I +was seeing Nelly ho-ome, I was seeing Nelly home, +It was from Aunt Dinah’s quilting party, I was seeing +Nel-ly home.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Suddenly Jane laid her hand on Paul’s to attract +his attention. “Look! Look at this, Paul,” she +said in a low voice, putting the paper on his knee, +and pointing to a paragraph.</p> +<p class="pnext">He glanced down and read,</p> +<p class="pnext">“C——. June 1st. The Academy of Arts announces +that it will offer a series of prizes for painting +and sculpture, to be competed for according to +the following rules.” Then followed a list of regulations, +after which the notice went on to say that, +“All work must be submitted on or before September +1st. Three prizes will be awarded in each department. +No work will be considered unless etc., etc.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, what of it?” said Paul, shortly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Can’t you—why don’t you—”</p> +<!-- File: 198.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“You know I can’t. Look at that kid down there, +will you—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Paul, why not?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Because I can’t, I tell you,” he repeated, irritably.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But why don’t you try,” persisted Jane, undaunted. +“If you don’t win anything, there’s no +harm done, and if you <em class="italics">should</em>, Paul—if you +<em class="italics">should</em>—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“When and where would I be able to do any work, +will you tell me?” He spoke almost angrily, but he +took the paper from her hand and looked at it again.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What are you two whispering about?” inquired +Carl. He still felt a twinge of jealousy when he +saw Jane and Paul talking without taking him into +their confidence.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Nothing,” said Paul. “Just something Jane saw +in the paper.” And picking up Minie’s rubber ball +he began to bounce and catch it monotonously.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What is it?”</p> +<p class="pnext">With a shrug of his shoulders, Paul handed the +paper over to Carl, pointing out the paragraph. +Carl gave it to Mr. Lambert.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Read it, father.” So Mr. Lambert put on his +spectacles, while Jane looked uneasily at Paul.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert read it aloud, and then without making +any comment, laid the paper aside. He looked +displeased.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why don’t you compete, Paul?” said Carl suddenly. +“There’d be no harm in trying.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Then Aunt Gertrude, glancing timidly at her husband, +found courage to put in a word.</p> +<!-- File: 199.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">There was a silence, during which everyone waited +for Mr. Lambert to say something; but no remark +from him was forthcoming. That he was annoyed +could be seen plainly, but because the suggestion had +come from Carl he maintained his silence.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you think you’d stand any chance of winning, +Paul?” Carl asked secure in his peculiar privileges +of free speech.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t know. How should I?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane was simply on tenter-hooks. If only Carl +would take up the case!</p> +<p class="pnext">“Would you like to try it?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. I would.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, why don’t you? You could find some +place—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That isn’t the point,” interrupted Paul, looking +directly at his uncle, “it’s up to you, Uncle Peter. +You told me that I wasn’t to touch a paint-brush +while I was in your house. And I haven’t. But +I—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, you’ll let him, won’t you, father? He +might as well have a go at it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“My boy, I think it is hardly—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But it’s only a little matter, father. I’d like to +see how he’d make out. We’d feel pretty fine if he +<em class="italics">should</em> win anything, and if he doesn’t, there’s nothing +lost.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert bit his lip. But at that time he +could no more have refused his son’s slightest wish +than he could have struck him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, well—go ahead if you want, Paul. I am +sure I wish you every success.” It was stiffly and +unwillingly said, but it was a victory nonetheless, +and Paul did not know whether to be more amazed +at his uncle’s concession or at Carl’s intercession. +Jane, her face beaming with delight, started to clap +her hands, and then realizing that any evidences of +unseemly joy might have unpleasant results, quickly +folded them in her lap.</p> +<p class="pnext">And so it came about, through the play of circumstances, +that the one member of the Lambert family +who had been so bitterly inimical to Paul for eight +months assumed the rôle of benefactor, and gallantly +squared his debt by a few right words spoken at +exactly the right moment.</p> +<!-- File: 201.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xiijeff-roberts"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id13">CHAPTER XII—JEFF ROBERTS</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">“Do you think I’ll be able to put it across?” Paul +asked, despondently, stepping back from the half +finished picture and eyeing it with his head on one +side and a frown on his brow.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane, perched on an old barrel, her chin on her +fists, studied the embryo masterpiece with a grave, +judicial air.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think it is going to be <em class="italics">very</em> good,” she observed +at length.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you, honestly?” Paul knew of course that +Jane was about as capable of judging as Anna, but +he had reached the point where encouragement from +any source was sweet. “Lord, I hope I get it done +in time.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You will,” said Jane. Paul grinned at her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You’re about the most optimistic character I +ever knew. I suppose you think I’m certain to win +a first prize.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t <em class="italics">you</em> think so?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, my child. I don’t think there’s a chance in +the world.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Paul! But you’ll win something.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, my jovial Jane, I won’t. But that’s neither +here nor there. Whew! Let’s get out of here. +I’m melting. How about you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It <em class="italics">is</em> pretty hot,” Jane admitted. It most certainly +was. An attic, even on coolish days seems +able to store up heat as no other place can, and on +a sizzling August afternoon a bakeoven is Iceland +in comparison. The only thing to be said in favor +of the Lambert’s attic was that it had a northern +light if not a northern temperature, and here Paul +had set to work.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Want to take a walk?” he suggested, dropping +his paintbrushes into a can of turpentine.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Can’t. I promised Elise I’d help her with +some of the mending.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I think I’ll browse around for a while. +Tell Aunt Gertrude I’ll be back for supper. She +said there wasn’t a thing for me to do.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Where are you going?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Nowhere in particular. I feel like doing something +rash and reckless, but there’s no danger of +anything like <em class="italics">that</em>—here. Where’s Carl?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Out in the garden with Elise and the twins.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well—good-bye. I’ll be back in half an hour +or so.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul selected for his solitary ramble a certain +rough, dusty, shady lane that led down past the +ruins of an old mill. Here on those breathless +afternoons a crowd of little urchins were wont to +gather to splash and paddle in the gurgling stream +that tossed over its stony bed on to the water-fall +above the mill. On the opposite side of the road +rose a wooded hill, where the tree-tops were gilded +with ruddy sunlight, and the deep fern scented recesses +were always cool and dim.</p> +<p class="pnext">The shade and freshness of the woods on that hot +day were not to be resisted, and Paul turned into +them, following a soft, weed-grown road that lead +along a little tributary of the mill-stream. But he +was feeling restless and even a little rebellious. The +calm, uneventful course of his life during the past +nine months had gotten on his nerves, and he found +himself longing for some kind of change or excitement. +What wouldn’t he give to see old Bill Tyler +coming toward him at that moment!</p> +<p class="pnext">He stopped, and leaning against an old wooden +railing, stared down at the stream that flowed by at +the foot of the steep bank. For more than a month +he had been working as hard as he could at his picture, +taking good care not to let it interfere with his +other duties, lest his uncle should recall his permission; +Aunt Gertrude tried to help him, and he had +progressed; but there wasn’t a chance in a million +of his winning anything, and he was not sure but +that he had made a mistake in undertaking the task +at all. He started on again, walking slowly, with +his hands buried in his pockets, forgetful of the passage +of time, and of his uncle’s dislike of having +anyone late for a meal. Suddenly he stopped. It +seemed to him that someone had called his name.</p> +<p class="pnext">Looking back over his shoulder he saw a small +man running easily along the road toward him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hello! Where are you off to?” inquired the +newcomer, as he came up, smiling in a friendly +way. “I saw you back there, and thought I recognized +you. How are you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">It was no other than the notorious Jefferson +Roberts, his face beaming with a friendly, winning +smile, and his hand outstretched. Paul shook the +hand, and said that he was off to nowhere—that he +was just walking.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Communing with Nature?” said Jeff, cocking his +head on one side, while his bright brown eyes twinkled +merrily. “May I commune with you? I’m going +in your direction.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come ahead. That is, unless you’re in a hurry. +I <em class="italics">won’t</em> walk fast.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I’m never in a hurry. What have you been +doing since I saw you last?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul answered the question briefly without going +into any details.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What an industrious life!” exclaimed Jeff gaily. +“How is your good little cousin, Carl Lambert? Do +you remember that day in Allenboro? He was horrified +at you—he thinks I’m the most wicked creature +alive. But then, most of those good souls <em class="italics">do</em>. +And why? simply because I like to enjoy myself—and +succeed at it.” And as he said this he laughed +so spontaneously, his face was so full of arch, easy-going +good nature that Paul joined in his laugh, +feeling convinced that the tales about Jeff were +mostly absurd exaggerations. In fifteen minutes or +so he began to believe, also, that there was a great +deal of good in Jeff that had been most uncharitably +overlooked. There was nothing “smarty” about +him; he seemed frank and boyish, overflowing-with +high spirits, impulsive, enthusiastic, and happy-go-lucky +all at once. He was even rather a confiding +soul, and strolling along beside Paul, whose arm +he had taken, chattered naïvely about himself and +his affairs with child-like frankness.</p> +<p class="pnext">Presently his mood changed; he began to blame +himself for his idleness, and to talk about his +mother. He told Paul that he had decided to get +a good job in the fall, and work hard.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’m a lot more serious than anyone thinks, let +me tell you,” he remarked gravely. “I like fun, +but I’m not like the rest of those chumps you saw +up at Allenboro. <em class="italics">They</em> think they know me—but +they don’t. They only see one side—so does +everyone else. But I’ll show ’em. One of these +days I’ll be a nice, respectable—Mayor, with three +chins, and a gold watch-chain.” This fancy sent +him off into a fit of amusement. His humors +changed so rapidly from melancholy to gaiety that +there was no way of being sure that he was not +joking when he seemed grave, and serious when he +was laughing; but he was a delightful companion, +and the two boys sauntered along talking as if +they had been intimates from their childhood.</p> +<p class="pnext">Suddenly, Paul realized that much time must +have flown since Jeff interrupted his meditations.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Gee! It must be pretty late,” he exclaimed +looking up through the trees, trying to guess the +time by the sun. “Have you got a watch?”</p> +<!-- File: 206.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">Jeff laughed, and pulling his watch-chain from +his pocket, displayed a bunch of keys, which he +twirled jauntily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“My watch, I’m sorry to say, is on a short vacation. +But you don’t have to bother about the time. +Come on with me—I’m going to scare up some of +the fellows, and see what we can find to do.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul hesitated. He was decidedly in the mood +for falling in with Jeff’s harmless suggestion; besides, +he would certainly be late for supper, and, +was consequently, slated for his uncle’s reproof +anyhow.</p> +<p class="pnext">“All right. What are you going to do?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, sit around and talk most likely. Probably +ramble off to get something to eat, and then we +might go up to see Tom Babcock—he’s a nice fellow. +You’d like him.”</p> +<p class="pnext">This seemed a mild and agreeable program, and +was very much to Paul’s taste. If his uncle should +ask him where he’d been—well, hang it, did he +have to give an account of everything he did, as if +he were a child of ten? And all this fuss about +Jeff Roberts was such utter nonsense anyhow.</p> +<p class="pnext">Accordingly, he accepted Jeff’s friendly invitation, +and they went off together following the road +on through the woods which led by a short cut to +the neighboring town, of Goldsboro.</p> +<p class="pnext">Goldsboro was a progressive young community +where, unquestionably you could find more to do +than at Frederickstown. The streets were brightly +lighted at night, every Wednesday and Saturday +evening during the summer a band played for two +hours in the Square, and the shops stayed open +until ten o’clock, and there was even a theatre where +such old classics as “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” “The Old +Homestead,” and “Billy, the Kid,” were enacted by +an ambitious stock company.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jeff seemed to know everyone, and it was not long +before he had collected a jolly party of five or six +boys. He also knew where you could get a capital +sea-food supper, and insisted that Paul should be his +guest. In fact, Paul found the attentions bestowed +upon him by this rather famous youth, decidedly +flattering though he was at a loss to know just why +Jeff should suddenly have begun to treat him as if +he were his best friend. The truth was that Jeff +was inclined to sudden friendships, which were +often as speedily broken as made.</p> +<p class="pnext">Supper over, it was suggested that they drop +around and see what Tom Babcock was doing.</p> +<p class="pnext">Tom was a young man older even than Jeff—two-and-twenty, +perhaps, or twenty-three. He lived +magnificently alone in a small room over a corner +drugstore, where they found him smoking his pipe +and hanging half way out of his window to watch +the crowd in the Square, and to hear the strains of +the brass-band which at that moment was playing +“Kathleen Mavourneen” with deep pathos.</p> +<p class="pnext">Upon the arrival of his guests, Tom lighted his +gas, and after a little conversation they all sat down +to a game of cards.</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul enjoyed himself immensely. He liked Jeff, +he liked Tom, he liked Jim, and Jack and Harry. +They were “nice fellows,” all of them. Why they +should be considered such a dangerous crew was +more than he could understand.</p> +<p class="pnext">And meantime the night wore on.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the Lambert household mild wonder at Paul’s +absence gave way to anxiety.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I suppose the boy knows how to take care +of himself,” remarked Mr. Lambert, drily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Perhaps, Peter, you had better put the latch-key +under the doormat,” suggested Aunt Gertrude, but +Mr. Lambert would not agree to this.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, my dear. He knows quite well that everything +is locked at ten o’clock. If he prefers to be +roaming around the country at that time, he must +be prepared to take the consequences. I hope you +do not expect me to alter all the rules of the household +for the boy.”</p> +<p class="pnext">So at ten o’clock, Paul not yet having made his +appearance, the front door was locked, and the family +went to bed.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Jane was not able to take his absence so +calmly. Suppose he had got lost? Suppose he had +hurt himself? He might even have been kidnapped. +These fears made it impossible for her to sleep, and +so she sat down at her window, determined to wait +up for him all night if necessary. With the house +locked, how could he get in—where could he go?</p> +<p class="pnext">The time that she waited seemed endless. The +tones of the church clock, striking eleven, boomed +solemnly through the stillness that lay over the town. +All the houses were darkened; the street was quiet. +Now and then, solitary footsteps rang out on the +bricks, and Jane sat up eagerly only to hear them +die away in a neighboring block.</p> +<p class="pnext">Where <em class="italics">could</em> he be? She was almost in tears +when after an eternity of waiting she heard the +sound of whistling far up the street.</p> +<p class="pnext">“That <em class="italics">must</em> be Paul. It <em class="italics">must</em> be!” She leaned +far out of the window, trying to get a glimpse of +the wanderer, who was in fact coming nearer to +the house. At last he came into the light of the +street lamp, and she recognized him with a great +sigh of relief. In another moment she had flown +noiselessly down the stairs, and unbolted the door +with as little squeaking and rattling as possible.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hello,” said Paul as calmly as if he had just +run up to the corner to mail a letter.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, <em class="italics">where</em> have you been?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Where have I been?” Paul was instantly on +the defensive. “Why—what’s the matter? +What’s everything locked up for?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sh! Everyone’s asleep but me. Oh, I thought +you were <em class="italics">dead</em>!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good Heaven’s—<em class="italics">why</em>? It isn’t late.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s nearly twelve. Everyone’s been in bed for +ages. We couldn’t imagine what had become of +you—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I must say I don’t see why there’s so +much fuss. I just walked over to Goldsboro to +see what was going on, and fooled around there +for a while. It was later than I thought when I +went out, and when I found out I’d miss supper, I +thought I might as well take a good walk, and get +something to eat over there.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh,—well we couldn’t imagine—you’d better +walk softly, Paul.”</p> +<p class="pnext">For some reason, Paul suddenly chose to think +that Jane was reproving him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t see why I can’t be a little late without +everyone’s getting so worked up over it. Do you +mean to say that I mustn’t leave the house without +telling everyone exactly what time I’ll be back?” +he grumbled. “Gee whiz! Life isn’t worth living +if you have to be worrying every minute—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">Sh-sh</em>, Paul! You’ll wake everybody up,” +whispered Jane. He subsided a little, but was still +muttering indignantly when he parted from her +and tiptoed cautiously up to his room.</p> +<p class="pnext">The next morning at breakfast, Mr. Lambert +asked him casually what had delayed him, and appeared +quite satisfied at his off-hand answer.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And how did you get in? Everything is always +locked at ten, as you know.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I heard him whistling, Daddy, and I let him +in,” spoke up Jane. Mr. Lambert merely said,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah! Well, don’t let it happen again my boy. +It made me very uneasy.”</p> +<p class="pnext">No further reference was made to the matter.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There was no harm in it,” thought Paul. “They +have the impression that Jeff is a black sheep, and +it would be a silly thing to go out of my way to tell +’em that I saw him again. Uncle would have a fit, +and it’s such a little thing to deliberately get up a +row about.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And so being satisfied that his mild escapade would +have no uncomfortable results he thought no more +about it.</p> +<!-- File: 212.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xiiidisaster"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id14">CHAPTER XIII—DISASTER</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Poor Janey was feeling very blue indeed. During +the last week it seemed to her that Paul had +somehow grown so different—rather inclined to be +cross and uncommunicative, and even to avoid her +company. That very afternoon he had told her +please not to bother him while he was painting, or he +never would get his picture done, and twice when she +had offered to take a walk with him, he had refused +her company with no very gracious excuse.</p> +<p class="pnext">Thus ignored and rebuffed, she had sadly devoted +herself to deeds of charity, and on that sultry afternoon +sat with Carl reading aloud to him from a fat +dull book about the ancient Britons. They were sitting +in the little garden, where the shadow of the +house offered some protection from the sun; Carl +reposing like a Sultan in his easy chair, gazing up at +the motionless weathervane on the gable of the attic, +and occasionally begging Jane “<em class="italics">not</em> to mumble her +words.” The attic was on the third floor just above +Granny’s room, in a part of the house that formed +an ell, bounding the garden on the south side with +its ivy-covered wall.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I say, Jane, do you suppose that Paul is +<em class="italics">smoking</em>?” said Carl suddenly, interrupting the monotonous +flow of Jane’s reading.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, that’s smoke, isn’t it? coming out of the +attic window—and cigar smoke, too, or I’ll eat my +hat!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane looked up. It was an undeniable fact that +a blue spiral issued from the attic, and, caught by +the faint breeze, was wafted gracefully upwards, +and dissolved. A very faint scent drifted down to +the garden, and that scent—if such it could be +called—was of tobacco. Paul, happily ignorant +of the dismayed interest he had roused in the +garden below, was sampling a cigar that Jeff had +lavishly bestowed on him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, all I’ve got to say is that if he knows +what is good for him, he’ll cut <em class="italics">that</em> out,” observed +Carl drily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I guess—I guess he’s just doing it for fun,” +said Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“He won’t think it fun if father catches him. +But it’s none of <em class="italics">my</em> business, I suppose. Go +on.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane went on reading, furtively glancing aloft +every now and then to see if the tell-tale puffs of +smoke were still issuing from the open window. +To her intense relief they had stopped after a few +minutes, and presently she heard Paul talking to +her mother in the kitchen.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you really like this book?” she asked at +last, looking at her brother pathetically.</p> +<!-- File: 214.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Very much. But you needn’t read any more if +you’re tired. Here’s Elise, now, anyway.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Elise had just entered by the garden gate.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Carl! Jane! What do you think! The most +exciting thing—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Lily Deacon is engaged to Mr. Sheridan,” said +Jane promptly. Elise stared at her, her round +blue eyes wide with amazement.</p> +<p class="pnext">“How did you know?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I put two and two together. Aren’t I clever?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, how <em class="italics">did</em> you guess, Janey? Lily hasn’t +told anyone but me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I knew it <em class="italics">was</em> going to happen, and I +knew that you’d been up to see Lily this afternoon, +and I guessed the rest. Isn’t it <em class="italics">nice</em>, though!” +cried Jane, clapping her hands. “And you know +<em class="italics">I’m</em> really responsible for it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">You</em>!” hooted Carl derisively.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, me. When did it happen, Elise, and +when are they going to be married? I do so love +a wedding, and there hasn’t been one here for +ages. Do you suppose she’ll wear a veil?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Elise, who under her placid exterior had the most +romantic of souls, sat down to recount all the +details that she had gleaned from her best friend.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And she’s going to live in that lovely house, +and she’ll travel, and she—goodness, do you suppose +Paul has burned up <em class="italics">another</em> batch of cakes?” +she broke off short in her rhapsody over Lily’s +prospects to sniff the air.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t you smell smoke? I do hope he hasn’t +had another disaster—he’s been getting along so +well. Well, anyway—where was I?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You said she was going to travel. What <em class="italics">I</em> want +to know is when the wedding is going to be,” said +Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, that isn’t decided yet—in the spring, I think. +You know, that doesn’t smell like cake burning. It +smells like rags. I suppose somebody’s burning +trash.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Carl laughed and looked at Jane; but the burning +smell did not resemble tobacco at all, and besides, +Paul was still in the kitchen with Aunt Gertrude.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Go on and tell some more, Elise,” said Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ve told you all I know. I must get you your +milk, Carl.”</p> +<p class="pnext">A minute later Elise reappeared at the dining +room door, bearing a tray well stocked with milk and +cookies, and followed by Paul and Aunt Gertrude.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Dear me, who <em class="italics">can</em> be burning rubbish?” exclaimed +Mrs. Lambert. “Don’t you smell smoke, +children?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">I</em> do, I can tell you,” said Carl. “By Jove, Paul, +what’s going on up in your den?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Everyone looked up in consternation to the attic +window. Paul had closed it before he came down, +but smoke was coming slowly from under the pane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good heavens! It couldn’t be on fire!” cried +Elise. “Run, Paul! Run, <em class="italics">quickly</em>!”</p> +<p class="pnext">But Paul had not waited to be urged. Up the +stairs he was flying, as fast as his long legs could +carry him, followed by Jane, Elise and poor Aunt +Gertrude, whose only thought was for Granny, the +twins having gone out to play early in the afternoon.</p> +<p class="pnext">The smoke was already thick on the second floor.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Elise, you and Aunt Gertrude take Granny downstairs,” +ordered Paul. “Jane, you’d better not come +up.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ll get a bucket of water. Oh, Paul! Your +<em class="italics">picture</em>!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Never mind my picture—get the water <em class="italics">quick</em>!” +And Paul dashed on up the stairs.</p> +<p class="pnext">With his heart in his boots, he made his way to +the attic, trying to hold his breath so that he would +not swallow the smoke.</p> +<p class="pnext">It turned out that so far as danger was concerned +there was no great cause for excitement. Although +the attic was dense with smoke, the cause of it was +only a small blaze in the heap of rags near the window, +which subsided under two bucketfuls of water.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane, whom Paul had not allowed to come up, +waited for news at the foot of the stairs; but after +he had informed her that the fire was out, she heard +nothing more from him. After a few moments she +shouted,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Paul! Are you all right?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, <em class="italics">I’m</em> all right,” replied a muffled voice, in a +tone of the utmost despair.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, come on down, or you’ll smother. What’s +happened?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ll be down in a second,” and then through the +fog Paul appeared slowly, descending the stairs carrying +a square of canvas.</p> +<!-- File: 217.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Is it hurt?” asked Jane, fearfully. “Oh, Paul!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t know. I can’t see it properly yet.” +But his face showed that he expected the worst +Neither of them spoke a word until they reached +the garden again, where Aunt Gertrude pounced +upon Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, <em class="italics">child</em>, how you frightened me! Paul, are +you quite sure everything’s all right? Oh, how +did it start—was there really a <em class="italics">blaze</em>?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Just a little one—it’s all out—a few rags. I +pitched ’em all out of the window. I’m—sorry, +Aunt Gertrude.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, my poor boy—your picture!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What’s the matter? Is it ruined?” asked Carl. +Jane said nothing, but stood looking first at her +cousin’s face, and then at the smoke-begrimed +and blistered canvas on which there was hardly a +semblance of the picture that had been so nearly +completed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes,” said Paul, with the calmness of despair, +“it’s ruined. It’s ruined all right.”</p> +<p class="pnext">No one knew what to say, and a silence followed, +until Elise asked timidly if he didn’t have +time to do another.</p> +<p class="pnext">“In four days? This is the twenty-seventh. +No, cousin, I couldn’t—and besides, even if I +could, I haven’t anything to do it with. So I guess +that’s all there is to that.” He tried to sound cheerful, +and turning the picture against the wall of the +house, announced that he was going back to the +attic to see if everything was calm up there.</p> +<!-- File: 218.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Well, that’s pretty hard luck,” remarked Carl. +“I daresay he’s more broken up than he lets on.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane had begun to cry, hiding her face in +Granny’s lap. Not even Paul could have been as +cruelly disappointed as she.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, he <em class="italics">would</em> have won something! I’m sure +he would have!” she wept, disconsolately. “He +said he didn’t think so, but he <em class="italics">did</em>, and I know +he did.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, one way or the other, it’s his affair,” +said Carl, “and I certainly don’t see why <em class="italics">you</em> +should be in such a stew over it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It is my affair, too,” wailed Jane, and at this +characteristic remark no one could help smiling.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come, Janey, darling, there’s no use in taking +it so to heart,” said Mrs. Lambert, laying her +hand softly on the curly head. “We are all dreadfully +distressed about Paul, but he has taken his +misfortune bravely, and after all he will have +many more chances. Elise, isn’t that the bell in +the bakeshop? Dear me, what can people think +coming in to all that smoke. I wonder if it’s clearing +out at all. Come now, Janey, cheer up.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Janey lifted her face from Granny’s knees, and +wiped her wet cheeks with the palms of her hands, +leaving long smudges.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There now. We must all be thankful that there +was no worse harm done,” said her mother, kissing +her. “Come along, Elise. You come with me +too, Janey. We mustn’t keep anyone waiting.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But Paul was already in the bakeshop, and was +calmly counting out change to the customer when +his aunt came in. He was rather pale, but apparently +quite cheerful.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I looked around in the attic again, Aunt Gertrude. +It’s all right up there,” he said calmly, +when the customer had gone. “The floor is charred +a bit where the rags were—but that’s all the damage. +And the smoke’s clearing out. It didn’t get +into the rooms much, because all the doors were +closed.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“We’re all so distressed about your picture, my +dear,” said Aunt Gertrude, laying her hands on his +arm. “I know what disappointment you must feel—and +you are a very plucky boy.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul looked down at her, started to say something, +and then abruptly left the shop.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But how in the world could it have started?” +wondered Aunt Gertrude, for the first time. “He +surely couldn’t have had the oil-stove lighted in +this weather, and it couldn’t have started by itself.”</p> +<p class="pnext">But Elise had no theory to offer, and Jane was +in tears again, so Aunt Gertrude carried her mystification +out to the kitchen, to see whether Anna +had returned with the groceries.</p> +<p class="pnext">At six o’clock, Mr. Lambert returned to the +bosom of a highly excited family, and, at the supper +table, listened with a peculiarly austere expression +to the incoherent accounts of the disaster. Presently, +he held up his hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come, come! I cannot find the beginning or +end of all this,” he said, and then bending his gaze +on Paul, added, slowly and sternly, “there was +a fire to-day in the attic—where you, Paul, have +been—er—working. So much I understand. But +what I do <em class="italics">not</em> understand is—how this fire +started.”</p> +<p class="pnext">There was a silence. Jane glanced at Carl, and +Carl took a drink of water.</p> +<p class="pnext">“We hear of such things as spontaneous combustion,” +pursued Mr. Lambert, “but for anything +of the sort to take place, there must be certain conditions. +I do not imagine that such conditions +could exist—in a pile of rags—under an open window. +No,” said Mr. Lambert, shaking his head, +“I must discard that theory.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Again the unpleasant silence followed these remarks. +Paul, who had eaten nothing, drummed +nervously on the table.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You were there, were you not? a short time +before the fire started?” inquired Mr. Lambert. +“Did you notice any—er—odor of burning?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, Paul was with me in the kitchen for quite +a little while before any of us noticed anything, +Peter,” Aunt Gertrude broke in innocently.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well,” said Mr. Lambert, shaking his head, but +still keeping his eyes fixed immovably on his +nephew’s face, “it is quite beyond my comprehension. +How anything of the sort—”</p> +<p class="pnext">At this point Paul suddenly interrupted.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There isn’t anything so very queer about it, +uncle,” he said coolly enough, at first, though once +he had spoken his courage seemed to leave him a +little. “I—I was smoking up there, and I suppose +I threw a match—or maybe—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah-h-h!” said Mr. Lambert slowly. Then he +pressed his lips together, and for a moment or two +said nothing. At length he observed,</p> +<p class="pnext">“There are one or two matters I should like to +take up with you after supper, Paul. However, +we won’t go into them just now.” And then he +changed the subject with an abruptness that so +far from drawing the thoughts of his family <em class="italics">away</em> +from speculations upon what was in store for Paul, +only made them more dismally foreboding. And +when after supper the family showed a desire to +disperse before the coming storm, Mr. Lambert +solemnly asked them to remain while he asked +Paul a few questions.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Peter, don’t scold the poor boy to-night,” said +Aunt Gertrude in a low voice. “He has—he is +very much distressed and disappointed.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It is true that he brought his own punishment +upon himself,” returned Mr. Lambert, “and I +should, perhaps, overlook the matter of his smoking +this time, although he knew quite as well as +Carl that I have absolutely forbidden that. It is +a far more serious matter that I have to speak +of.”</p> +<p class="pnext">And with this he turned to Paul, who had been +trying to collect his thoughts. He was not ignorant +of what the serious matter might be, but it +seemed to him that his uncle was making a good +deal more out of it than it was worth, and he had +begun to wonder whether he had been guilty of +some crime that so far he knew nothing of.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I have heard to-day—from a source that I fear +is only too reliable—certain reports concerning +you, which in justice to you I must ask you to deny +or confirm,” said Mr. Lambert.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What are they, uncle?” asked Paul.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I was told—and by one of my most respected +fellow-citizens—that you have been seen not once, +but at least half a dozen time of late with a young +man of a most undesirable character and reputation—Jefferson +Roberts. Could my informant +have been mistaken? Have you or have you not +seen this young man several times—recently?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul swallowed. The entire family was aghast, +for it was very plain that Mr. Lambert was deeply +angered.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well?” said the old merchant. “Is this true?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, uncle.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You knew what my feelings would be if I +learned that this <em class="italics">was</em> true?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, uncle.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes,” repeated Mr. Lambert, “I think you +knew very well that you were disobeying my strictest +injunctions. Just before Christmas you were—or +could have been—seen with this notorious +youth—a gambler, a rascal, a shameless loafer. +When I learned of this, I pardoned you, thinking +that you might not have known how deeply outraged +I should feel at discovering that any member +of my household should wish to associate with +such a person. But now you have disobeyed me +without such excuse. What am I to think? You +give me no choice but to believe that you find pleasure +in disobeying me, and mortifying me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">After a pause, he went on,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, mortifying me. You have treated me as +I have not deserved to be treated. I have given +you a home, I have considered your welfare as attentively +as I have considered the welfare of my +own children; I have been lenient with you, though +you would, perhaps, not be willing to admit as much—and +in return I find you willing to—perhaps you +are not aware that in associating with this Roberts +and his crew you not only injure your own standing +in this town, but injure me also. For more +than a hundred years the family whose name you +bear, and my own have stood for every principle +of good citizenship; and that honorable reputation +is to be marred through the willfulness of a youth +who counts such a thing so lightly that he will toss +it away for a few hours’ idle amusement!”</p> +<p class="pnext">This grave, stern accusation was not what Paul +had expected. He turned white and then blushed +crimson. His vocal chords felt stiff, but at last +he managed to speak.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I—I didn’t think that Jeff Roberts was judged +fairly, sir,” he stammered.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And what have I done that’s so terrible?” cried +Paul, “I only—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You knew that you were disobeying me?”</p> +<!-- File: 224.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Perhaps you think that at eighteen years of age +you are a better judge of character than grey +headed men and women? Perhaps you think that +you are old enough to be your own master?” Mr. +Lambert got up. “I cannot allow willful disobedience +in my house. You have been guilty of it too +often. I feel now that it would be best for all +concerned—for you especially—to—let you <em class="italics">be</em> your +own master. You are free now to go where you +like, make friends with whom you will, direct your +own life as you please.” He stopped. There was +not a sound in the room—indeed no one quite realized +that Mr. Lambert’s words actually constituted +a dismissal.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Your father,” continued the old man immovably, +“left with me a small amount of money, which +I shall turn over to you at once. It should be +sufficient to maintain you until you are able to support +yourself, and I am willing to add to it if +necessary. I think—I believe that in the course +of time experience will show you that I have been +just with you, and if you show yourself worthy +I shall always be ready to help you to the best of +my ability.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Gertrude looked pleadingly at her husband, +but he did not see her. No one else had courage +to say anything, and indeed to do so would have +been worse than useless; for whether Mr. Lambert +had judged his nephew too harshly or not, it was +certain that he could not be made to look at the +facts of the case in a different light. To him two +things were of paramount importance,—obedience +to his wishes, and respect for public opinion, +and Paul had offended against both of these fundamental +statutes. The old merchant had not exaggerated +when he said that his nephew’s conduct +had mortified him.</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul made no attempt to defend himself; he was +too much dazed by all that the day had brought +forth to find a word to say.</p> +<p class="pnext">Well, he was free. He should have been glad—and +only a few months before he would have been. +But looking helplessly around the table, from one +face to the other he realized suddenly that he was +<em class="italics">not</em> glad. Why, he had grown to love them all—he +had even a certain fondness for Carl. Who +was there now to care whether he got into scrapes +or out of them, whether he won prizes or burnt +his pictures to cinders, whether he was defeated +or triumphant. But his face showed nothing of +what was passing in his mind. Somewhere in the +distance Mr. Lambert was saying,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I wished for all of you to hear what I had to +say to my nephew, so that you would understand +that I judged him by nothing but what he himself +admitted. And I believe, Gertrude, that when +you have considered the matter as carefully as I +have you will feel that I am doing only what is just, +and, I hope, wise. Paul is not a child, but a young +man, quite able to think for himself. It is plain +that our ways and customs are disagreeable to him, +and I have come to believe that it is only fair to +him to let him go his own way as he thinks best. +And—er—that is all.”</p> +<p class="pnext">One by one the others rose from the table, and +left the room. Only Paul and his uncle remained.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Have I made myself quite clear?” asked Mr. +Lambert, sitting down at his desk, and putting up +the roll-top.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, uncle. I—when do you want me to—go?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That I leave entirely to your convenience,” returned +Mr. Lambert. He opened a drawer and +took out an envelope with a rubber band around +it, which he gave to his nephew. “If you should +find that this is not sufficient for your needs you +may let me know. I am very sorry that you have +forced this painful duty upon me—I had hoped +that you—I still hope that you will realize—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“My responsibilities,” said Paul absently. “Oh, +I have—but never mind. I’m sorry, uncle. I +didn’t understand—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Quite so. I want you to know that I am not +acting with any thought of punishing you. I am +doing only what I believe to be best.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert looked curiously at his nephew’s +face, and saw that the contrition in it was sincere. +He did not for a moment waver in his decision, +but after a moment he held out his hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I hope you do not harbor any hard feelings +against me?”</p> +<!-- File: 227.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">Paul slowly and wonderingly took the proffered +hand. His uncle’s cold, immovable justice was +something that he had never been able to understand. +Not for a moment did he dream of asking +for pardon, but he could not “harbor any hard feelings” +against the austere old man, who judged +everything according to an inflexible standard of +right and wrong—who saw all conduct as either +black or white, and to whom the crime of disobedience +was equally unpardonable whether it affected +the routine of a little household or the affairs of a +nation.</p> +<!-- File: 228.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xivthe-crossroads"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id15">CHAPTER XIV—THE CROSSROADS</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Along the dusty road, Paul trudged alone, his +head bent. He did not look up until the little town +lay behind him. There was very little feeling of +exultation in his heart as he made his way along +the shady road, under the apple trees, from which +the yellow fruit was already falling. For the first +time in his life, this young citizen of the world +knew what homesickness was—and he could not +bring himself to look back to the town to which +he had come so unwillingly ten months before. +Well, he was free—he was his own master. That +was what his uncle had said. The whole world +lay before him—but where should he go? There +was no one out there who knew that he was coming, +or who cared whether he came or stayed. +There was the city—“lots of people, lots of streets, +lots of houses.” But what was Paul Winkler to +the city? And even if at some time in that future +to which he looked forward with dogged hope, he +should make fame and fortune, would the city care +any more about Paul Winkler? Would he not +have been wiser—and happier—to have fitted himself +to the ways of his own people, to have gone +on growing up among them, learning to know +them, to honor them for their simple virtues, and +to forgive them their weaknesses? He shook his +head impatiently; it was too late to think about +the might-have-beens.</p> +<p class="pnext">He had just reached a bend in the road, when +he heard a voice calling him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Paul! Oh, Paul, wait a minute!”</p> +<p class="pnext">He stopped, and looked around slowly. Janey +was running toward him, stumbling over the +stones in the road, panting, her round little face +puckered with distress.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Janey!” He dropped his bundle in the dust, +and held out both hands to her. But she ignored +his hands, and flinging both arms around him, +clung to him tightly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What is it, Janey darling?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“N-nothing,” she sobbed, “only I—oh, <em class="italics">Paul</em> don’t go!”</p> +<p class="pnext">He patted her red head tenderly; for a moment +or two he found it difficult to say anything.</p> +<p class="pnext">“There, Janey—don’t. I—and you’d better +run on back, dear,” he said at last, stooping to pick +up his bundle.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, mother said I could come—she said I +could walk to the crossroads with you. And she +said I was to give you another kiss for her—and +tell you that she loved you—and Granny’s crying.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is she?” said Paul. “Oh, Janey— Well, +come along, kidlet.” He took her hand, and they +went on slowly between the sweet-smelling fields +that lay turning to gold under the August sun.</p> +<p class="pnext">With his hand in hers, Janey seemed to feel +comforted, but with every step Paul’s heart grew +heavier.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you think, Paul, it would have been different +if your picture hadn’t burned up?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, Janey?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“If you had won a prize?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t think it would have won any prize. +And—it <em class="italics">did</em> burn up, so there you are. Besides, +it wasn’t as good as that old thing I did of Aunt +Gertrude. Do you remember? That thing on the +top of the flour barrel? That was much better—though +I don’t know why.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane stopped short, looked at him for a moment +or two, her face brightening, then, without +saying anything, walked on again.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What is it? What were you thinking about?” +asked Paul.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Nothing.”</p> +<p class="pnext">In a little while they reached the top of the hill +from which Paul, in the farmer’s wagon, had had +his first glimpse of Frederickstown. Now he +paused to take his last.</p> +<p class="pnext">There it lay, a pretty town, in the shade of its +old trees. There was the spire of the very church +which old Johann Winkler had attended regularly +in his snuff colored Sunday suit, his wife beside +him, and his children marching decorously in front +of him. There were the gables of the Bakery, and +there the very window from which Paul had so +often gazed out longingly toward the open road. +There was the slate roof of his uncle’s warehouse +where, no doubt the old man was calmly engaged in +his day’s work, going over his books, talking and +haggling with the farmers that sold him their +goods;—a stern character, narrow, perhaps, and +obstinate, but upright and self-respecting in all his +dealings, a good father, a loyal citizen and an honest +man; justly proud of his standing among his fellow +townsmen. It was thus for the first time, that +Paul understood the uncompromising old man, who +had judged his ne’er-do-well, lawless father so +harshly, and with whom he himself had been in +constant friction since he had come there. To +Peter Lambert, respect for family traditions, regard +for the feelings and even the prejudices of his fellow +citizens, and submission to domestic and civil +laws, written and unwritten, were the first principles +of living and he could not pardon anyone who took +them lightly.</p> +<p class="pnext">In the few short moments that he stood there +looking back, Paul felt his heart swell with affection +for all that he was leaving behind him; for +Granny, his father’s mother, who cried over him, +for Aunt Gertrude who had always loved him, for +gentle, industrious Elise, for the twins, with their +pranks and their coaxing little ways, and—yes, for +Carl, who had shown himself a good fellow, with +all his fussy habits, and irritating superciliousness.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ll miss you the most, Paul,” said Janey, as if +she guessed his thoughts.</p> +<!-- File: 232.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">He looked down at her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I know you will—and I’ll miss you the most.”</p> +<p class="pnext">That was all they said until at length they reached +the crossroads.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Which way are you going, Paul?” asked Jane, +struggling to keep back her tears.</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul looked up at the weather-beaten sign-post.</p> +<p class="pnext">“To the City,” he said firmly. “That’s the road +I’m taking now, Janey.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Paul! Where will you be? Where will +you be?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I don’t know, Janey. I can’t tell you. I don’t +know anything now. But I shall be all right—don’t +worry about me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, will you ever, ever come back again?” +Poor Janey’s tears streamed down her rosy cheeks. +Paul looked at her seriously.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, I will, Janey. I promise you that. I +don’t know when or how, but I’ll be back some day. +Now give me the kiss Aunt Gertrude sent, and one +from you.”</p> +<p class="pnext">She dried her eyes on her apron, and then standing +on tip-toe, put both her arms around his neck +and kissed him on each cheek.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good-bye, Paul.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good-bye, Janey.”</p> +<p class="pnext">She stood there under the sign-post, watching +him as he walked briskly down the country road. +Once, when to her he was only a miniature figure in +the distance, he looked back and saw her, standing +motionlessly, with the summer wind blowing her +bright blue dress, and the summer sun shining on +her red head. She had been, and was, and always +would be, his faithful friend, and he knew in his +heart he would never find anyone like her in the +whole wide world that lay before him.</p> +<p class="pnext">When he had disappeared under the shadows +of the trees far down the road, Janey turned and +retraced her way homeward. She had been a little +comforted by his promise to come back again, and +was already imagining how one day he would +walk into the bakeshop, suddenly, when no one +was expecting him, and say that he was going to +live with them all for ever and ever. And so he +would live there, and everyone would love him, +and he would paint wonderful pictures and become +famous; but he would never go away again—the +world would come to him! Never for a minute +had Jane doubted that Paul was a rare and extraordinary +being, and in his wildest moments of +self-confidence he did not believe in himself as +completely as she did.</p> +<p class="pnext">Then everything dropped from her thoughts, +except the one idea that had come to her a little +while before.</p> +<p class="pnext">To-day was the twenty-eighth. There was +plenty of time.</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Gertrude, was in the Bakery setting the +trays of freshly baked cakes under the glass counters, +with a sad face. She missed her nephew, +and in her heart believed that her husband had +been harsh with the boy whose efforts to master +himself had not escaped her, and whom she loved as +much as her own son. But she knew quite well +how useless it would have been for her to have +tried to intercede for him—and after all, what had +happened might be for the best. Aunt Gertrude +was always inclined to believe that anything that +happened was always “for the best” in the long run—and +that, no doubt, was why, in spite of a life +that had not escaped many sorrows and difficulties, +she was still young and fresh in spite of her forty-odd +years.</p> +<p class="pnext">But she had expected her Janey to return inconsolable +for the loss of her beloved cousin, and +was surprised and puzzled when her daughter ran +into the shop in almost her usual state of high +spirits.</p> +<p class="pnext">Without stopping Jane ran through the shop, and +up the stairs to the little room that Paul had occupied +since Carl’s illness—a small room, with one +window, and rather scantily furnished. Under the +window was a table, with one drawer, in which +Jane promptly began to rummage. Its contents +were hardly valuable—two or three thumb tacks, a +bed castor, a scrap or two of lead pencil, a shabby +copy of “A Short History of Greece”—the pathetic +testimony of Paul’s efforts at “getting to know +something”—and a portfolio stuffed with papers. +And then from this clutter of what seemed to be +school exercises of one sort or another, Jane finally +extracted what she was looking for—the newspaper +clipping that she had cut out for Paul three months +before, with the address to which he was to have +sent his ill-fated picture.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane did not lose a minute. She was now in +quest of the old picture he had painted on the top +of the flour barrel! <em class="italics">He</em> had said that it “wasn’t +so bad”—and she had once heard him say that some +great painter had painted a celebrated Madonna on +the top of a wine cask.</p> +<p class="pnext">She remembered now that she had seen it lying +on the dinner table, one day when Elise was dusting +the dining room, and Elise had put it behind Mr. +Lambert’s desk, where it had reposed since the day +he had confiscated it. It must still be there.</p> +<p class="pnext">And there, indeed, she found it. A fine coat of +dust had collected over its surface, but when she +had brushed it off with her apron, she found it +quite as fresh as ever.</p> +<p class="pnext">And now, how was it to be wrapped so that it +could withstand the rough treatment of a long +journey? She glanced at the clock. It was not +yet noon-day.</p> +<p class="pnext">Holding it face inwards under her arm, she +started forth to look for counsel in this important +matter. Mr. Wheelock, at the post-office, was one +of her particular friends; he would be able to tell +her exactly what was to be done.</p> +<p class="pnext">She found that gentleman sitting on the steps +of the post-office, smoking a calabash pipe, and +sunning himself placidly while he waited for the +noon mail.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What have you got there?” he called out.</p> +<!-- File: 236.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“I want you to tell me something, Mr. Wheelock.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“How many calves’ tails it takes to reach the +moon?” said the old man, facetiously. “No? +What is it to-day, then?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I can’t tell you here. Come inside.”</p> +<p class="pnext">He knocked his pipe out on the step, rose, and +followed her as she skipped back to his little office.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, tell me how to send this away.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Wheelock took a pair of steel-rimmed spectacles +out of the pocket of his grey alpaca coat, and +put them on. Then he picked up the barrel top +and looked at it in an astonishment that gave way +presently to something like profound admiration.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I declare! If it ain’t Mrs. Lambert! +And its a mighty fine thing, too. How did you +come by this?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">Do</em> you think it’s good, Mr. Wheelock?” cried +Jane, eagerly, her face glowing.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s fine,” said Mr. Wheelock, in a tone that indicated +that he considered his opinion quite final. +“And on the top of an old flour barrel, too!” he +went on, turning the picture over. “Ain’t that +quaint? Well, now, where did you want it sent?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane sat down and copied out the address for +him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And you’ll wrap it up <em class="italics">carefully</em>, Mr. Wheelock?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sure thing. And send it by express, too.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And you won’t tell a living soul?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Nary a breath. Here, hadn’t you better write +your address on the back of this here pitcher—or +somewheres, case it might get lost.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane had nearly forgotten this item. She took +a post card, and wrote on it boldly, “Paul Winkler, +Frederickstown, N. C.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“There, Mr. Wheelock, will you paste that on +the back?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Wheelock was inspecting the card.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Paul Winkler! That young feller I seen +around here a lot with you folks? Did he make +this pitcher?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes,” said Jane proudly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I declare! Now I call that right smart. If it +ain’t Mrs. Lambert to the life I’ll eat my hat.” +And he set it up on his desk again, leaning against +the wall. Jane looked at it intently. If only she +knew just <em class="italics">how</em> good it was. She did not feel that +Mr. Wheelock was exactly an authoritative critic—then +she remembered again that Paul had said +it wasn’t “so bad,” and that settled her doubts.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was, in fact, in spite of the crudities of which +Paul had been very well aware, a piece of work that +might have done credit to many a more experienced +painter; and there were things in it that neither +Jane nor Mr. Wheelock saw, vigor and harmony +and beauty, over and above the superficial likeness +to Mrs. Lambert that Mr. Wheelock found so amazing.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You’ll send it off right away, Mr. Wheelock? +And—and let me know how much it costs. I can’t +pay before Saturday.”</p> +<!-- File: 238.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">He laughed.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ll try to get along ’til then. Don’t you bother +your head, child.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Satisfied, though full of hope and fear, Jane went +home.</p> +<p class="pnext">The family gathered for its noonday meal, Mr. +Lambert taking his seat at the head of the table, +grave and pompous as always in his well-brushed +black coat. The difference of one place seemed to +make the table unnaturally small, and yet no one +seemed to notice it. Mr. Lambert talked about some +man that had been in to see him, about the prospects +of the new courthouse being finished, about the +harvests. His family docilely listened to him, interpolating +the proper question or remark here and +there. Paul’s name was not mentioned, it being +tacitly understood that such were the wishes of the +master of the house.</p> +<!-- File: 239.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xvan-unsuspected-hero"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id16">CHAPTER XV—AN UNSUSPECTED HERO</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">Paul’s departure left the old problem still unsolved. +Well, there was no help for it; if the family +tradition was to be destroyed at last, so it must +be. The time was coming when the ancient name +of Winkler should be erased from the glass window +of the Bakeshop, and a stranger’s name put +in its place. Even Granny, usually so little troubled +from her serenity by the vicissitudes of earthly +things, seemed to brood over the prospect with melancholy. +But the subject was not discussed so frequently +as of yore, partly because there was little to +be gained from such discussion, and partly because +it reminded Mr. Lambert of his nephew’s delinquency +and put him in a bad humor.</p> +<p class="pnext">As September was always a hot month in that +part of the country, school never began until early +in October.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane felt utterly lost. Usually so resourceful, +so capable of finding something to amuse her or +interest her every minute of the day, she now went +about her tasks indolently, and spent the rest of +her time wandering around listlessly. Several +times, she went down to call on Mr. Sheridan, who +trotted her down to see his new Leghorn hens and +his six Jersey cows. He had gone in for farming +with his whole soul. He also discussed the changes +he was making in the old house. Yes, he had decided +to live in Frederickstown for good, as his +grandfather had done before him, and his uncle, +the Major, had done for many years. No, he +didn’t think so much of solitude as he once had—but +then there were reasons. Yes, he might travel +now and then, but that didn’t count. No, he had +not planned to settle permanently in Frederickstown, +when he had first come, but things had happened +since then that had changed his mind. Of +course Janey had heard the news. Yes, he was the +happiest man in the world. No, he had never been +<em class="italics">really</em> in love before. No, he didn’t think Peterson +would ever get married. Jane listened to him with +the half-disdainful interest that one, who has +been hardly dealt with by fate, pays to the cheerful +talk of the fortunate. Their positions were +reversed.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane was almost sorry that everything had gone +so smoothly with Lily and Mr. Sheridan—she +would have liked to have some complications to +work on. It also seemed to her hardly dignified +in Mr. Sheridan to have abandoned his pessimism +so readily—whatever the cause of it might have +been. And now that he was so cheerful and full +of plans, he seemed to her less interesting than he +had been before.</p> +<p class="pnext">She was on pins and needles waiting for news +of what had befallen Paul’s picture. She had allowed +no one to share this secret which was absolutely +her own, and her restless eagerness to +hear was increased by not having anyone with +whom to speculate on the chances of its success or +failure.</p> +<p class="pnext">No word had come from Paul. Where he was, +what he was doing, how he was living were unknown +to the family.</p> +<p class="pnext">One fine, sunny day Aunt Gertrude declared that +she was going to shut up shop and take a holiday.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come, we’ll take Dinah and the old wagon, and +go out to the country. Elise, you and Jane can +make up sandwiches. Granny doesn’t want to go, +but Anna will be here to take care of her. Father +is going over to Allenboro, so there doesn’t have +to be any lunch cooked here, and Anna can get +Granny’s.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The prospect of this unexpected spree put everyone, +including Jane into high spirits. Aunt Gertrude +roasted two chickens, to be eaten cold, baked +a chocolate cake with marshmallow filling, and +boiled eggs, while Elise and Jane cut and spread +enough sandwiches to stay the appetite of a small +army.</p> +<p class="pnext">At noonday they set out in the old wagon that +had made the trip to Allenboro, Carl driving, with +Aunt Gertrude and the twins beside him, Jane and +Elise in the back with the luncheon hamper, books, +embroidery and games.</p> +<p class="pnext">And away they rumbled. Aunt Gertrude who +actually had not been into the open country lying +around Frederickstown in years, had set her heart +on picnicking in one particular spot.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I remember it from the time when I was a girl,” +she said, blushing as she did so easily. “Long ago +we had a picnic there—it’s about a mile below the +Webster’s farm, Carl—I’ll show you—Nellie Webster, +and Sam (she was referring to Dolly’s father +and mother) and poor Nannie Muller and Ben +McAllister—just think, they’re all old folk like me, +now! And it was there that I met your father! +Think of that now!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane, finding this interesting, moved so that she +could kneel behind the seat, with her elbows on the +back.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Is that really true, Mummy? And did you like +him right away? Was he handsome?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Certainly he was handsome—and your father is +still a <em class="italics">remarkably</em> handsome man, my dear!” said +Mrs. Lambert, rather aggressively; and indeed she +firmly believed that her husband was a perfect +model of masculine good looks.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. Well, go on, Mummy. What did you +wear?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What did I wear? Well, it’s very queer but +I <em class="italics">do</em> remember that quite plainly. I wore a green +muslin dress—that very dress, Lisa, that you found +in my old trunk the other day—and a white leghorn +hat, with little pink roses. Lisa, have you any idea +what ever became of that hat? No—I remember +now, I trimmed it up again and gave it to you when +you were a little girl—and how sweet you looked +in it!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I want a hat with pink rothes,” murmured +Lottie.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t interrupt, Lottie. Go on, Mummy. +What was Daddy like?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Your father,” said Mrs. Lambert complacently, +“was a <em class="italics">great</em> catch. He was older than the rest of +us, and so dignified. At that time, I remember, +he wore a big moustache—and such a lovely brown. +I was quite afraid of him, and I was sure that he +thought me a very frivolous girl, as I certainly was. +But—he didn’t seem to mind. And that night, +there was a lovely big moon, and the hay had just +been cut—and he took me home.”</p> +<p class="pnext">That seemed to be the end of the story; Mrs. +Lambert stopped, and a thoroughly sentimental +smile spread over her youthful face. Lisa sighed. +She was, if possible, even more sentimental than +her mother, and in the hours that her flaxen head +was bent over her incessant handiwork, it was filled +with imaginings of romantic scenes, and dashing +young gentlemen like Walter Scott’s heroes. She +liked the portion of her mother’s artlessly told romance +that touched on the moon and the new-mown +hay, but for herself she would have preferred a +smooth-shaven hero to one with the dragoon’s +moustache that her mother so greatly admired.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, Carl, you drive along this road to the +left,” said Mrs. Lambert. “It’s all changed very +little. I remember that rock, <em class="italics">perfectly!</em> And we +can lead Dinah off from the road and hitch her to +a tree. And here we all get out.”</p> +<p class="pnext">So out they got, and Carl tied Dinah to a tree, +while his sisters took the impedimenta out of the +wagon. Mrs. Lambert holding a twin with each +hand, lead the way along a shady path that skirted +the bank of a meandering stream. The shadow +of a grove of trees lay over the long grass; on each +side of the stream stretched meadows colored with +patches of golden-rod, and red pepper-grass; in the +apple-trees the fruit was already bright red among +the green leaves; the sun was warm, and the wind +caressing.</p> +<p class="pnext">“This is the very place—these are the very trees,” +said Mrs. Lambert. “And now we shall all have +lunch,”—this in a brisk, practical voice, for notwithstanding +her romantic memories, Mrs. Lambert +was hungry.</p> +<p class="pnext">Elise spread a white cloth out on the grass, +weighting it at the corners with three large stones +and “The Vicar of Wakefield.” Carl went to put +the bottles of loganberry juice in the stream to cool, +and the others unloaded the hamper. Then they +all sat down to eat. And when they had eaten all +they wanted—that is, until there was nothing left +to want—Aunt Gertrude took a book, pretending +that she was going to read, and went to sleep, Elise +took her sewing—pretending that she was going to +be industrious, when she was really going to sit +and dream—the twins, took off their shoes and +stockings, and made for the shallow stream like a +pair of ducks; Carl, who had recently acquired some +enthusiasm for natural history, began to look +around for specimens of the local flora and fauna—in +the shape of mulberry leaves, and spiders, and +Jane rambled off to see what she could see.</p> +<p class="pnext">With her hands clasped behind her, she wandered +through the trees, sometimes stopping to smell the +ferns that grew in the moist rocks. At length she +reached the edge of the little wood, where the +stream, as if it had been playing a game with her, +chuckled pleasantly at having appeared where she +had not expected to find it. Again, on the opposite +bank was the meadow, where now a few brown +cows were to be seen in the distance, placidly +munching the grass.</p> +<p class="pnext">But it was not the cows that interested Jane at +that moment; her curiosity was piqued immediately +by a certain peculiar figure under an oak-tree on the +far side of the stream.</p> +<p class="pnext">This figure was seated on a little camp stool, beneath +a green umbrella—as if the oak tree did <em class="italics">not</em> +come up to the mark in furnishing the amount of +shade required.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What <em class="italics">can</em> he be doing?” wondered Jane. The +odd character had his back to her so that she could +not make out exactly what his occupation was, and +therefore left her no alternative but that of picking +her way across the stream on the stones, and +ascertaining his business for herself.</p> +<p class="pnext">As she approached him her wonder grew. He +wore a suit of black and white checks, an emerald-hued +necktie of such proportions that the loops of +the bow were visible even from Jane’s inconvenient +angle of sight. But most remarkable of all, was +his hat. It was such a hat as, once seen, would +leave an indelible impression, and yet defied all description. +It can only be said that it was large—extremely +large—that it was of straw, and that it +was ornamented with a scarf of a rich and vivid +green. But the jaunty freedom of its lines, the +expression of its broad and supple brim—these were +the individualities that distinguished it from all the +other hats ever made by the hand of man.</p> +<p class="pnext">After a moment or two Jane made out what he +was doing. He was painting a picture. In front +of him was a small easel, and on the easel was a +small canvas, and on the canvas was a bewildering +blur of colors. On his thumb he supported a huge +palette.</p> +<p class="pnext">It occurred to Jane that this fellow craftsman of +Paul might have heard of her cousin, and in any +event his occupation interested her. She drew +nearer, until she was close enough to watch the +airy strokes of his brushes which he selected from +time to time from a large bunch, much as a golfer +selects his clubs.</p> +<p class="pnext">Presently, evidently hearing some motion on the +grass behind him, the artist looked around and saw +her. At once he sprang up, doffing his wonderful +hat.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah! How do you do?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane stared at him, and then said, with dignity,</p> +<!-- File: 247.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“How do you do? Am I disturbing you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Not at all! <em class="italics">Not</em> at all.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Can I watch you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I shall be delighted; though I fear that your +interest will be ill repaid,” he said modestly. “I +am, as you see, endeavoring to render my impressions +of the beauty and tranquillity of this charming +scene. Ah, Nature! Nature! there is nothing like +Nature, my dear young lady,—you may take my +word for it. I am a great worshipper of Nature—I +wear her colors like a true knight!” And he +pointed to the scarf around the crown of his hat, +which, as has been said, was of a green that was +surely never to be met with on land or sea. He +resumed his seat on the little camp stool, under the +green umbrella—also, let it be observed, of Nature’s +hue—and Jane, whose curiosity had been much +piqued by this odd little man, settled herself sociably +on a hillock. He set to work again, this +time using certain self-conscious little mannerisms, +throwing his head on one side, thrusting out his +underlip, pondering over his palette, and then holding +up one finger, saying briskly, “Ah-ha! Now +I’ve got it!” and impetuously dashing a blob of +paint onto the meek canvas, which seemed to have +had already far more trouble than it deserved.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane looked at him intently. He was a little +man, of twenty-six or seven, with a rosy face, a +pug nose, and bright blue eyes, like pieces of Dutch +china. His straw colored hair was combed down +on his forehead, curled slightly around his ears, +and grew down the nape of his neck. He wore a +tiny moustache, which seemed to have no kinship +with either his hair or his eyebrows, for where +these last were almost flaxen, the stiff fringe on his +upper lip was as red as rust. Yet he was a pleasant +looking young man; the simplicity and earnestness +of his expression, even his frank satisfaction with +himself, made one like him in spite of all his absurdities.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, you’re putting in the cows, aren’t you?” +inquired Jane, respectfully.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, indeed. I am going to put in three cows—three +is rather a symbolic number, you know. +Faith, Hope and Charity—Good, Better, Best, so—so +many things run in threes. I should like to +suggest the number Three to the spectator—in fact, +that’s really what I’m driving at.”</p> +<p class="pnext">It seemed a quaint idea to Jane, but original.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you—do you live in Frederickstown?” she +ventured, presently.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No. I regret to say that I am not a native of +these delightful environs,” said he, “I am a bird +of passage.” He looked at her thoughtfully as +he repeated this definition of himself, evidently +wondering how she liked “birds of passage.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You mean you don’t live anywhere?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Just that. All Nature is my home—the trees, +the rocks—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You <em class="italics">live</em> in trees and rocks?” gasped Jane, looking +at his dapper little suit, and wondering how it +withstood the strain of such habits.</p> +<!-- File: 249.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Figuratively speaking. I confess that at times +I inhabit—hotels. Deplorable as such necessity is, +still it exists.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes,” said Jane, who did not understand why +such a necessity should be particularly deplorable, +“of course.”</p> +<p class="pnext">The little man looked at her, and then in a confidential +tone, remarked,</p> +<p class="pnext">“I am an enemy to Civilization, Look! Look +about you! These noble trees, this grassy meadow, +that purling stream—all are doomed, my dear +young lady. Have you ever thought of that? +Civilization will overtake this natural Paradise—the +factory will rise, the stony arms of the City +will crush out the fresh beauty of the flowering +mead—even these cows are slightly civilized already.” +And a look of discontent overshadowed +his cheerful, rosy face, as he gazed at the peaceful +animals munching the grass under some distant +willow trees.</p> +<p class="pnext">Just at that moment a series of shrill cries rent +the air. Jane sprang up. There could be no doubt +that they came from the spot where she had left her +family. She darted past the little artist, flew along +the bank of the stream, and finally reached the scene +of the commotion; though she was forced to view +it from the opposite bank.</p> +<p class="pnext">This is what had happened: Mrs Lambert, as +has been said, had gone to sleep, and, while Elise +had been sitting quietly, with a book in her lap, a +large, black cow had ambled up behind her, and in +the friendliest way in the world had thrust its head +over her shoulder. Elise had promptly screamed; +Mrs. Lambert, waking suddenly and seeing the cow, +had screamed also, and then the twins, making mudpies +down by the water’s edge, had added their +shrieks to the general uproar. Elise, losing her +presence of mind, had started to run, whereupon, +after a moment’s thought, the cow had followed +her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“One moment! Allow me!” cried a voice behind +Jane. “Ladies, be calm!” And the dapper little +figure of “Nature’s Knight” sprang forward, +hopped nimbly across the stepping stones of the +stream, clambered up the muddy bank, and clutching +the green umbrella, flew to Elise’s rescue.</p> +<p class="pnext">He ran around in front of the cow, shouting +loudly, recklessly drawing all the attention of the +astounded animal upon himself. By this time the +whole family had collected to watch the proceedings. +Carl was chuckling. Mrs. Lambert was half-weeping, +half-laughing, and wringing her hands all at +once. Jane, open-mouthed, followed all the extraordinary +actions of the rescuer, who, making the +strangest sounds in his throat, waving his green +umbrella, appeared to be trying to mesmerize the bewildered +cow.</p> +<p class="pnext">But singular as his methods were, the stranger +actually succeeded in coaxing the animal away from +Elise, and then began to shoo it across the field, +with such energy and determination that presently +it began to trot and then to gallop until it had vanished +out of sight around the edge of the woods.</p> +<p class="pnext">Elise, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, and +looking rather foolish, got down from the fence +to which she was clinging in desperation, and timidly +thanked the young man, who had again removed +his hat with something of the flourish of an +acrobat.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You aren’t hurt?” cried Mrs. Lambert, rushing +to her daughter. “Oh, my dear, I really don’t think +there was any danger at all—I’m sure that was +quite a dear old cow—that is,—I don’t mean that +it wasn’t extremely kind of you, sir, and I’m sure +we are all <em class="italics">very</em> grateful to you—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Madam, I was fortunate to have this opportunity +of serving you,” said the young gentleman, +grandiloquently, and then turning to Elise, he +added, with deep concern, “I trust that <em class="italics">you</em> feel no +ill effects from this unpleasant adventure—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, no—no, indeed, thank you.” Elise, being +very self-conscious, blushed, and looked at her +mother as if asking what she should say next.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Won’t you rest for a moment, sir?” said Mrs. +Lambert, “and have something cooling to drink? +Carl, my dear, aren’t there one or two more bottles +of loganberry down in the stream?” And then +turning again to the stranger, who listened very +willingly to her invitation to refreshment, she asked +him if she might know his name.</p> +<p class="pnext">“My name, Madam?” he looked around at them +all as if to assure himself that they were quite prepared +for anything that might follow. “My name is +Montgomery,—P. Hyacinth Montgomery!” No +one turned a hair. Mrs. Lambert then told him her +name, and that of each member of her family, and +then they all sat down, under the tree.</p> +<p class="pnext">Very soon all constraint between the Lambert’s +and Mr. Montgomery had quite disappeared. He +was an adaptable, sociable person, and with all his +eccentricities and absurdities, had a certain air of +wistfulness that touched Mrs. Lambert. He did not +seem at all loath to talk about himself, especially +about his feelings; and the only thing he touched on +rather vaguely was the matter of his native section +of the country.</p> +<p class="pnext">He was in “these environs” only temporarily, he +said, and was lodging at the Red Fox Hotel, between +Frederickstown and Goldsboro.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, then,” said Mrs. Lambert, “we can take +you part way home, if you are ready to start soon. +We are going in the same direction.”</p> +<p class="pnext">She could not tell what it was about Mr. Montgomery +that seemed to her pathetic, but whatever it +was it inspired the kindly woman to be cordial and +friendly to the odd little man. He accepted her +offer eagerly, and Jane fancied that as he did so he +looked timidly at Elise.</p> +<p class="pnext">While the others were packing up various odds +and ends into the picnic basket, he ran off to collect +his own possessions which he had left under the oak +tree up the stream.</p> +<p class="pnext">“He’s a queer duck,” remarked Carl, carefully +sorting out his specimens of plant and animal life.</p> +<!-- File: 253.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Can <em class="italics">I</em> have a hat with a green thcarf?” demanded +Lottie.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I’ll borrow his suit to play chess on,” added Carl.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Hush! Carl,—don’t make fun of him,” said +Mrs. Lambert, smiling in spite of herself. “He +seems to be a very good-hearted young man. Here +he comes now.”</p> +<p class="pnext">All flushed and panting, Hyacinth appeared with +his numerous burdens; but notwithstanding the fact +that he was laden like a camel with his box, and stool +and easel and umbrella, he insisted upon carrying +Elise’s books, and even offered to manage the basket +<em class="italics">somehow</em>.</p> +<p class="pnext">Just why, each and every one of the Lamberts +felt a distinct liking for the ridiculous P. Hyacinth +it would be hard to say, yet that they did was evident. +And on his part, he seemed upon half an +hour’s acquaintance to feel as much at home with +them all as if he had known them all his life.</p> +<p class="pnext">As they rumbled and bounced back to town he +chattered happily and confidingly to them all, but +for Elise he reserved some of his choicest thoughts +on the beauties of nature.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes,” said Mrs. Lambert, when he had finally +parted from them at the road that led off in a short +cut to Goldsboro, after assuring them that he +hoped for nothing more ardently than to renew his +acquaintance with them, “a very nice young man, +indeed. Where a good heart is so plainly beneath +it one can forgive a small matter like a checker +board waistcoat.”</p> +<!-- File: 254.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">Elise meantime had been thinking over not the +checker-board waistcoat but the orange-colored +moustache,</p> +<p class="pnext">“But it was certainly very brave of him to frighten +that bull away,” she remarked, half as if to herself. +Carl shouted.</p> +<p class="pnext">“A bull! You mean one poor old cow!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Elise undisturbed by this interruption, added again +in a tone as if she were arguing out his faults and +virtues with herself,</p> +<p class="pnext">“And even if his moustache <em class="italics">was</em> queer, he—he had +a very nice complexion.” Then realizing that Jane +had overheard this remark, she blushed a vivid pink, +pretended to be looking for her work bag, and then +asked, coldly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“What are you laughing at, Janey?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I?” said Jane innocently; “<em class="italics">I</em> wasn’t laughing. +Gracious! I wasn’t <em class="italics">laughing</em>.”</p> +<!-- File: 255.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xvia-family-matter"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id17">CHAPTER XVI—A FAMILY MATTER</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">The appearances of Mr. P. Hyacinth Montgomery +at the Bakery became very frequent. His devotion +to the family increased so rapidly that in a +little while, not a day passed without his calling to +inquire solicitously for the health of all, to talk to +Aunt Gertrude, present a bouquet of wild flowers to +Granny (who always had to have them taken out +of her room because they made her sneeze), and play +with the twins like an affectionate uncle.</p> +<p class="pnext">One day, having noticed the sign on the Bakeshop +window, evidently for the first time, he inquired +how the name there happened to be “Winkler,” when +the family name was “Lambert.” He showed so +much interest in the matter that Mrs. Lambert, flattered, +gave him a short history of the family, to +which he listened thoughtfully, once murmuring +something about “coincidence.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“A quaint history,” he remarked.</p> +<p class="pnext">No member of the household was so blind as not +to notice the preference that Mr. Montgomery +showed for the society of Miss Elise, nor her tell-tale +bashfulness when he plucked up sufficient courage to +address her. But Mr. Lambert so plainly disapproved +of the young man that not even his wife +dared to open any discussion on the subject with +him, for fear that a violent explosion would result. +The old merchant maintained a stolid silence which +all the pathetic efforts of Mr. Montgomery were +powerless to thaw; though now and then Mr. Lambert +was inspired to break it himself in order to +utter sarcasms that reduced the poor young man to +the last stage of discomfort and despair, and frequently +caused Elise to weep bitterly in the solitude +of her little bedroom. At the same time, she found +something rather agreeable to her romantic taste in +this rôle of unhappy love-lorn maiden.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You are enjoying a great deal of leisure, Mr. +Montgomery,” Mr. Lambert remarked one evening, +looking at the writhing youth over his spectacles. +“Is it a vacation—or a habit?”</p> +<p class="pnext">P. Hyacinth smiled uncertainly, with a beseeching +expression in his large blue eyes.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Neither a vacation—nor yet exactly a—a habit, +sir. I—I have my own philosophy of life, as you +might say—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah!—a rather expensive one, I <em class="italics">do</em> say,” interrupted +Mr. Lambert. “You are fortunate to be able +to afford your philosophy. You expect to remain +for long in these parts?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Not <em class="italics">very</em> long—that is, I—my plans are not definite.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“My wife has given me to understand that you +are—an <em class="italics">artist</em>?” Mr. Lambert observed in a tone that +almost overcame the miserable Hyacinth.</p> +<!-- File: 257.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Not really—that is—with me, sir, Art is an—an +avocation, as you might say—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah! And what might your <em class="italics">vo</em>cation be?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Montgomery waved his hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">“That, sir, is inconstant, variable.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I am not surprised that it <em class="italics">is</em>,” remarked Mr. +Lambert, and after that, he withdrew into his shell +of icy silence, evidently waiting for further developments +before he expressed his opinion of P. Hyacinth +still more plainly.</p> +<p class="pnext">In Jane, Elise found a highly sympathetic confidante, +but even Jane was prompted to ask frankly,</p> +<p class="pnext">“But what does he do, Elise? Does he sell his +pictures?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“He does,” cried Elise. “He’s sold <em class="italics">three</em>! He +did a perfectly lovely design once for a stationer’s +advertising calendar—it was a picture of a girl, he +said, with a lot of red roses in her arms. And he +did a picture of some wild animals for a sportsman’s +den.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And what was the other one?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I—he didn’t tell me. We started to talk of +something else. Oh, Jane, are you going to be horrid +about him, too?” cried Elise, suddenly bursting +into tears. Then, having grown quite artful where +any defense of her suitor was necessary, she added, +“Paul was an artist, and you didn’t laugh at <em class="italics">him</em>!” +To Jane it seemed hardly worth while to point +out what appeared to her to be the many differences +between Paul and Mr. Montgomery. So +she disregarded Elise’s challenge, and putting +both arms around her sister, said half-laughing,</p> +<p class="pnext">“You know I’m not going to be horrid about him. +I like him very much.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you really, Janey?” asked Elise, brightening. +“Oh, Jane you can’t imagine how unselfish he is. +He—he said he’d give up everything for me. He +said he’d break stones in a quarry—boo—hoo!” +And here Elise again dissolved into tears.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, he won’t, dear,” said Jane comfortingly, +“I mean—that is—he probably won’t have to. +There are so many other things that he could do, you +see. What else did he say?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What else? Oh, well—not very much,” answered +Elise, blushing, and beginning to dimple. +“He said that—he—he’d have to have a talk with +father.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Good gracious! Then he—oh, Elise!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Only he’s <em class="italics">so</em> afraid of Papa. Of course, Janey, +you must understand that Mr. Montgomery hasn’t—you +know—hasn’t—that is, I know he likes me, but +he hasn’t said so. He says he can’t, until he’s talked +to Papa; he says that wouldn’t be honorable. And +Papa won’t give him a chance!” And once more, +Elise began to weep gently.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t cry, Elise darling—father <em class="italics">will</em> give him a +chance,” said Jane; but these words of comfort only +elicited sobs from Elise.</p> +<p class="pnext">“That’s what I’m afraid of!” she wailed disconsolately.</p> +<p class="pnext">This state of affairs seemed hopelessly complicated +to Jane. It had no points in common with the romance +of Lily and Mr. Sheridan, and in this fact +Elise found a certain melancholy satisfaction. Elise +of course kept Lily well-posted on the details of her +own affair of the heart, and unconsciously assumed +a certain superiority in recounting and describing +her difficulties that almost irritated the sweet +tempered and sympathetic Lily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">I</em> was very unhappy, too,” said Lily; but Elise +shook her head as if to say, “What opposition did +<em class="italics">you</em> meet with?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane simply looked on, vastly interested in this +new development of domestic happenings, but exceedingly +dubious as to the outcome. Mrs. Lambert +was, of course, deeply sympathetic with her daughter, +and Mr. Lambert feeling that there was a conspiracy +among the feminine members of the household +to overcome his objections, became more than +adamantine in his silence.</p> +<p class="pnext">So matters stood one warm evening, when, notwithstanding +the date the summer still lingered on, +perhaps from sheer curiosity to know how the problem +was going to be solved.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane, with a book in her lap, was sitting at her +window, not reading, for the light was fading out +of the sky, and she was unwilling to light her lamp, +so lovely were these last twilight moments of that +mild autumn day.</p> +<p class="pnext">Presently, hearing voices in the garden, she +thrust her curly head out of the window.</p> +<p class="pnext">Elise was sitting on the green bench against the +wall; in front of her stood Mr. Montgomery, who, +judging from the open gate, had just made his appearance. +He held his hat in his hand, but Jane, +accustomed to having her attention caught by the +green scarf upon it, now noticed with surprise that +the green scarf had been replaced by a black one. +Now, what might be the significance of that? Mr. +Montgomery’s tow-colored hair was slightly disordered, +giving yet another reason for one’s believing +that he was in distress of some sort.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Poor little man, what <em class="italics">can</em> be the matter?” wondered +Jane, and she leaned a little farther out so +that she could hear some of the conversation.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, dear Miss Lambert—I feel that I must go,” +he was saying in sincerely miserable accents. “You +cannot—I must not flatter myself that you <em class="italics">can</em> feel +what this parting means to me. Indeed, desiring +your happiness above all things, I earnestly hope +that you are untouched by <em class="italics">my</em> wretchedness! I have +come to-night to say farewell to you and your +charming family for whom I could not feel a deeper +affection were it my own.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Mr. Montgomery—surely you don’t mean +that you are going for good?” cried Elise.</p> +<p class="pnext">He drew a heavy sigh. And then, letting his +head droop pathetically, said,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Miss Lambert, that must be for you to decide. +And yet I cannot allow you—even though my dearest +hopes were to be realized thereby—to make any +decision. Miss Lambert, I think you may have +guessed my feelings. How deep and sincere they +are I can only prove by my readiness to disregard +them. In short, dear Miss Lambert, I feel my +unworthiness to aspire to the happiness—” here +he swallowed his words completely so that Jane +found it impossible to make out what he was +saying.</p> +<p class="pnext">“But where are you going, Mr. Montgomery?” +stammered Elise, evidently on the point of tears +again. Her concern and emotion affected P. Hyacinth +deeply and rapidly. Taking a step closer to +her, he looked into her eyes;</p> +<p class="pnext">“Are these tears, Miss Lambert—Elise? Is it +possible that my departure is not wholly indifferent +to you?” he cried, casting his hat recklessly on the +ground and seizing both her hands.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, Mr. Montgomery, you know—that it is not,” +murmured Elise, freeing one hand in order to dry +her eyes.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Then,” declared Hyacinth heroically, “I shall—I +shall seek an interview with your parent to-night—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You may have an interview immediately, if you +want,” announced a bass voice from the dining-room +doorway.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Jiminy!” gasped Jane, drawing herself back from +the window.</p> +<p class="pnext">The two young people started as if a cannon had +exploded beside them. Mr. Montgomery, minus at +least three shades of his rosy color, drew himself up, +and breathed a deep breath. His knees were quaking; +yet it was not without an air of real dignity that +he prepared to brave the old lion.</p> +<!-- File: 262.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Wait here, Elise. I think I had better see your +father a—alone.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Not at all,” said Mr. Lambert again raising his +terrifying tones, “Elise, I wish you to step in here, +too.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Instinctively, Elise clung to Hyacinth’s hand, and +like the babes in the wood, they slowly walked into +the dining room.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert was seated at his desk; and the light +coming in through the window shone upon his +glasses so that neither of the quailing young people +could quite see his eyes. There was a ferocious +frown between his bristling grey eyebrows.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Mr. Montgomery, I heard some of the remarks +you were making to my daughter. I also heard you +say that you wanted to see me. I am willing to listen +to anything you have to say—provided that you +come to the point <em class="italics">quickly</em>!” He brought out the +last word so sharply that poor Hyacinth gasped as if +he had been struck by a high wind.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, sir,” he managed to articulate, faintly; and +after this effort seemed unable to utter a sound.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well?” said Mr. Lambert. “Proceed.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Hyacinth squared his shoulder.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Mr. Lambert—sir—I—er—I—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you wish to marry my daughter?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, sir. Exactly.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Then why don’t you say so?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I <em class="italics">do</em> say so, sir.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And you wish to ask my permission?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, sir—just so. I <em class="italics">do</em> ask your permission.”</p> +<!-- File: 263.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Well, sir,” said Mr. Lambert, removing his +spectacles, and polishing them slowly on his handkerchief. +“It is <em class="italics">not</em> granted.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Here Elise began to weep, but disregarding her +distress, Mr. Lambert continued,</p> +<p class="pnext">“And I should advise you, sir, to keep to that very +excellent plan of yours to depart, at once.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Notwithstanding the grim look around Mr. Lambert’s +mouth, Hyacinth held his ground heroically.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sir, I love your daughter. I think I have a right +to ask you why you object to me as a son-in-law.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert turned upon him slowly in his swivel +chair, eyed him gravely from head to foot, and then +said,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. Quite so. You have such a right. Very +well, then,—I object to your clothes, to begin with.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sir,” said Hyacinth, turning a deep pink, “they +can be—changed.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No doubt,” said Mr. Lambert. “In the second +place I object to your profession,—if you are pleased +to call it such.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You object to my being an interpreter of nature—an +artist, sir?” stammered Hyacinth. “Surely sir—however +that too can be changed.” And he +bowed his head submissively. “In fact, sir,” he +added with an ingenuous expression, “I shall be +quite willing to change it.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ah,” said Mr. Lambert. “Well, my dear sir,” a +slightly sarcastic smile illumined his rugged features +for a moment, and he rose as if he were about to +finish off the matter, with his final objection, “well, +my dear sir, lastly, I don’t like your name. Perhaps, +though” (<em class="italics">very</em> ironically), “you can change +<em class="italics">that</em>!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Hyacinth hesitated a moment, and then said pathetically,</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t you really like it, sir?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I can hardly express my feelings about it!” cried +Mr. Lambert, losing patience. “Really, my dear +sir—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“One moment, please,” urged Hyacinth, “I—I <em class="italics">can</em> +change it—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No doubt! No doubt! Perhaps you can change +your skin—indeed I should not be surprised—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But really, sir. Allow me to explain. I—well, +it is necessary for you to know sir, that, very often, +persons who embrace any line of artistic activity +may desire to assume a fictitious name—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I can easily imagine that in many cases regard +for their personal safety would force them to it,” +observed Mr. Lambert, drily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Precisely. And sir—I confess that heretofore +you have known me under a name that—that is not +my own.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Not your own!” roared Mr. Lambert. “What +the deuce do you mean sir? Not your own! Then +whose is it?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No one’s sir, believe me!” cried Hyacinth, backing +away from the indignant old man. “I invented +it, sir—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And you mean to tell me that you have had the +audacity to enjoy my hospitality under false pretences!—to +say nothing of paying court to my +daughter—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Pray, sir—one moment!” implored Hyacinth, +wringing his hands. “Oh, don’t misunderstand +me—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And will you have the goodness to tell me, sir, +at once, <em class="italics">what</em> and <em class="italics">who</em> you are?” bellowed Mr. Lambert. +“Come, I won’t tolerate your insolence.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, my <em class="italics">dear</em> Mr. Lambert, don’t, <em class="italics">don’t</em> be hasty. +I—I don’t know what I am. But I—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What is your name, sir?” shouted Mr. Lambert.</p> +<p class="pnext">“My name, sir, is—Winkler. P. Hyacinth Winkler. +The P. stands for Pol—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Winkler!” gasped Mr. Lambert, “<em class="italics">Winkler</em>!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Winkler!” murmured Elise, faintly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“For Polybius,” continued Hyacinth, not heeding +their ejaculations. “I will conceal nothing from +you sir. The P. stands for Polybius. My sponsors, +not I, are to be blamed—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Winkler!” repeated Mr. Lambert.</p> +<p class="pnext">“If you are afflicted with the same sensitiveness +of the auditory nerve that nature bestowed on me,” +went on Hyacinth, “you cannot doubt that there is +something in the combination of the word Winkler +with the two polysyllabic names preceding it, which +is grating, imperfect—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Winkler,” Mr. Lambert was still repeating monotonously.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes, sir. I now perceive the cause of your astonishment. +It is a name with which you have some +connection—”</p> +<!-- File: 266.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Will you be good enough to tell me what part +of the world you are from?” demanded Mr. Lambert.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I was born in the state of Missouri, in the year +1895. My parents were people of consequence in a +humble way. My father had for many years been +the proprietor of a solid business in dyes and textiles—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“My dear sir, I don’t want your biography,” interrupted +Mr. Lambert, but in a remarkably softened +voice. “Your father’s name was—?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Samuel Winkler.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Samuel? And his father’s?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“John.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“John—Johann! By Jove!” cried Mr. Lambert. +And he began to rummage in the drawer of his desk, +bringing to light the large scroll on which was +traced the family tree of the Winklers. Just as he +had unrolled it under Paul’s eyes, he now unrolled it +again, and eagerly began to trace the lines of twigs +and branches.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Here!” he exclaimed, “Samuel Winkler—son +of the first Johann—moves to Missouri in 1817—two +sons, Ferdinand and Johann. Ferdinand died +1824. Johann married, 1850—Samuel, your father, +born 1857. Is that right, sir?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Do you realize,” inquired Mr. Lambert, throwing +himself back in his chair, “that you are the +fourth or fifth cousin of my wife? That you are, +in fact, the legal heir—or can be made so by her +consent and yours—to this famous establishment. +That, in a word sir,” cried Mr. Lambert, growing +almost too excited to speak distinctly, “if you +show aptitude, and willingness to fit yourself to +carry on this business, I shall withdraw all my objections +to you—I will accept you as a son-in-law—Embrace +one another, my children! Bless you a +thousand times! Ah, Heavens! Gertrude!” And +almost apoplectic with excitement, Mr. Lambert +sprang up, and actually cutting a caper, flew to the +door to call his wife.</p> +<p class="pnext">As a matter of fact, he had not far to look; +for his roars and bellows had brought his entire +family down to the hall outside the dining-room +door, Jane having informed her mother of +the probable nature of the scene going on within, +and a natural concern for the well-being of the +two victims having stirred their sympathy and +anxiety.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come in! Come in!” cried Mr. Lambert, throwing +the door wide. “Gertrude, my dear, embrace +me!” and he promptly hugged his startled wife. +“Jane, kiss your dear sister. Gertrude, salute your +son—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But w-what—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What? What? You ask what? He has been +found!” Then suddenly, Mr. Lambert remembering +that actually Hyacinth had not consented to the +conditions of his acceptance at all, turned upon him +abruptly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I presume, sir, that I am right in believing that +you are willing to lay aside all other interests, +and—”</p> +<p class="pnext">Then seeing Hyacinth and Elise standing by the +window, evidently quite oblivious to his oration, he +smiled with positive benevolence.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I have found a <em class="italics">Winkler</em>, my dear wife,” he +said. “And this time, I believe,” with a playful +glance in the direction of the two at the window, +“a Winkler who—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Who will stay put,” finished Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">There was no need for much explanation, Mr. +Lambert’s tones during the interview having been of +such a quality that not only the entire household +might have heard him, but the neighbors into the +bargain.</p> +<p class="pnext">And thus, as Jane had once prophesied to Paul, +the incredible had happened—the Other Winkler +was found.</p> +<!-- File: 269.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xviian-honor-to-the-family"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id18">CHAPTER XVII—AN HONOR TO THE FAMILY</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">“And of course <em class="italics">I</em> shall lend you my pearl pin,” +cried Lily, embracing Elise for the sixth time. +“Oh, I <em class="italics">am</em> so delighted! And to think, you sly +girl, that you’re going to be married four whole +months before I am!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And I,” announced Dolly Webster, taking her +turn at embracing the blushing and dimpling Elise, +“<em class="italics">I’ve</em> brought you a pair of blue garters. Annie +Lee made ’em, but I sewed on the little pink roses, +so they’re from both of us. And mamma is going +to give you the dearest set of tea cups—though +that’s a secret. I <em class="italics">never</em> was so surprised at anything +in my life!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And your fiancé is charming,” added Amelia, +“<em class="italics">so</em> interesting. Now, do let me look at all these +pretty things you are making.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I want to hear more about all this,” said +Annie Lee, sitting down, and taking off her rain-soaked +hat. “Here, my dear, give me some of your +sewing to do. You must be rushed to death.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I <em class="italics">am</em> rushed—but everyone has been helping. +The house is simply upside down,” said Elise. +“Just look at this room! I don’t know how we’re +going to get everything straightened out for the +wedding. Papa insists that we must have a big +party here afterwards, but where in the world we’ll +find room to move I don’t know.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Indeed, since the events recorded in the last +chapter, the gentle routine of the Lambert’s family +life had been unhinged at its very foundations. +Everyone knows that the prospect of a wedding has +a thoroughly disturbing influence, and during the +weeks of trousseau making, and festivity-planning, +Mr. Lambert’s rules of law and order were freely +and boldly disregarded.</p> +<p class="pnext">The wedding date was set for early winter,—to +this suggestion, Mr. Lambert had given a ready +consent, being anxious to have his son-in-law firmly +attached to the household and his duties as soon as +possible, and the domestic machinery moving once +again with its customary smoothness. At the same +time the old merchant desired to have his daughter’s +marriage do him credit. He discussed the preparations +fussily; he made decisions and redecisions +on the household articles and heirlooms which should +go to his daughter on her marriage; he even had +his opinions on the bride’s dress. One evening he +called her down and presented her with an ancient +silver chain, set with curious, embossed medallions, +which had belonged to his own grandmother—“Now +I have the ‘something old,’ ”—Elise said, as she +showed it proudly to her friends—: another time, +on his return from a trip to Allenboro, he brought +her a pair of tiny blue silk slippers, so small that +no woman of the modern generation could possibly +have pressed her feet into them. Altogether, his +satisfaction was so profound that at times he was +positively kittenish, and teased the young lovers with +elephantine playfulness. He no longer saw in his +prospective son-in-law and distant relative those +eccentricities that had annoyed him so excessively. +He called Hyacinth, Polybius—a name, which in his +opinion had classic dignity—and treated him with +a solemn regard that disconcerted the young man +even more than his former sarcasm.</p> +<p class="pnext">Everyone was pleased. Letters of a most friendly +and cousinly nature had been exchanged with the +family of the bridegroom who did not hesitate to +express very frankly their surprise and delight in +that young man’s unlooked for good sense in choosing +the bride he had, and in preparing to lay aside +his artistic whimsies in favor of a solid and thriving +business.</p> +<p class="pnext">Hyacinth had been exhibited to all the Lamberts’ +neighbors; he had been approved and congratulated. +Frederickstown received him amiably into its midst. +He had bought a calm, dark blue suit, and was growing +a small beard to give some air of age and authority +to his rosy, youthful face. He spent much +of his time at the warehouse with Mr. Lambert +where he sat and listened gravely to the talk of the +other merchants, spoke rarely, but always with a +judicious, reflective manner, which was positively +impressive.</p> +<p class="pnext">“A fine young man, who’ll be a credit to you, +Mr. Lambert, and as good a husband as any young +lady could wish,” was the general opinion of the +new Winkler.</p> +<p class="pnext">He had been admitted to the secrets of the Bakery, +and here his talents shone. Here he proved his +claim to his descent, exhibiting a genius for cake-making +that might in time rival that of old Johann +himself. He had already invented three new recipes; +and so great was his enthusiasm that he actually +sat up at night thinking out new mixtures. +He had found the natural outlet for his creative instinct, +and his whole soul was possessed with an +ardor for increasing the name and fame of his +house.</p> +<p class="pnext">But it was not without a slight shadow of resentment +that Jane, although she was sincerely fond +of her future brother-in-law, saw him usurping the +place that had been Paul’s. Now Paul seemed to +be entirely forgotten; his place was filled; in the +flurry of preparations even Aunt Gertrude did not +have a thought to spare for him. It was as if he +were no longer a member of the family at all, as +if his life and theirs had no connection. How could +they feel that way, Jane wondered indignantly. +And to cap all, she had heard no news of the fate +of the picture. She was bitterly disappointed, for +even while she had tried to pretend that she had +no reason to hope for much, she had really been +building all sorts of delightful imaginings on her +unshakable belief that it <em class="italics">would</em> win a prize.</p> +<p class="pnext">But Jane was too entirely feminine not to be diverted, +and greatly absorbed by the plans for the +wedding; and on that rainy, windy afternoon, she +busily pricked her fingers trying to make tiny stitches +in the pretty, simple lingerie that she was helping +Elise to make, and listened eagerly to the chattering +of the other girls who were all talking and asking +questions at once.</p> +<p class="pnext">The brisk, kindly Annie Lee promptly fitted a +thimble on her finger and took up the piece of muslin +that Elise had been hemming. The two engaged +ladies exchanged open confidences for the benefit +of all, while Dolly sat by munching chocolates from +the box of candies that she herself had brought as +an offering to the bride-to-be.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, do tell about the wedding,” she said, giving +a bounce of anticipation. “Have you started on +your dress?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, yes—and Granny has given me a lovely piece +of lace. Wait, I’ll show you. Janey, dear, will +you go and put the kettle on, and I’ll make some +tea in a little—you dear girls have gotten soaked +coming to see me.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Then the half-finished wedding dress was taken +out of its box, and held so high that its immaculate +cream-colored flounces should not touch the floor.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It was mother’s,” Elise explained. “And I’m +just altering it a little, so it will not look very old +fashioned—but I can’t bear to change it, and I think +it’s lovely as it is.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s <em class="italics">delicious</em>!” cried Lily.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I wouldn’t <em class="italics">think</em> of changing it,” said Annie Lee. +“Why that’s just the style that suits you. You’ll +look lovely!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I suppose it was once white,” said Amelia, “but +still, that cream-color is very nice—though a pure +white would be more to my taste.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What are you talking about, Amelia—that old +ivory shade is a <em class="italics">thousand</em> times nicer than dead +white. Hold it up against you, Lisa.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Gertrude’s wedding dress was made of silk, +with a tight little bodice and a huge skirt, brave with +flounces and gathers; and above its mellow ivory-colored +tones Elise’s flaxen hair shone like gold. +Lily, Dolly and Annie Lee were loud in their raptures +over her plump, blooming prettiness, but +Amelia looked on with a rather strained smile.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, put it back in the box, or you’ll soil it,” +said Annie Lee. “And <em class="italics">I</em> shall help Janey with the +tea; you can’t do half a dozen things at once.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Over the tea-cups these feminine tongues rattled +on still more exuberantly. Amelia drew attention to +the probable differences in the futures of the two +brides-to-be, and wondered which would be the happier, +then Annie Lee began to tease her about some +imaginary suitor whom she declared was languishing +for Amelia.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What nonsense! What are you saying? Whoever +heard of such a thing!” cried Amelia, but she +was immensely pleased, and put on a mysterious +expression meant to convey to them that there was +more truth in their pleasantries than they were aware +of.</p> +<!-- File: 275.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Tell me,” she said, presently, with a lively air, +“what has become of that delightful cousin of +yours?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“You mean Paul?” inquired Jane, looking up +stolidly enough, but with a grin twitching at the +corners of her lips.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Yes. I met him out at your dance last winter, +Dolly,” said Amelia, “and he was really charming +to me. We had many dances together—such an interesting +boy!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Even Elise bent her head to conceal a smile at the +mention of the “many dances” Paul and Amelia +had had together. She had heard Paul’s account +of that pleasure.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, Amelia! did you set your cap at Paul? +I’m surprised at you. And he was only a child!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Dear me—how can you say such things, Elise,” +cried Amelia coyly. “I—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I wish I could tell him that you asked about him,” +added Elise, “I know it would make him very +happy.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Nonsense! I’m sure he wouldn’t care in the +least! But tell me what has become of him.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“He went away last month—or six weeks ago,” +said Elise, briefly, glancing at Jane. “Isn’t that +Papa just coming in, Janey? It must be after five.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“After five!” cried Lily, “then I have to run, +dear. Mamma didn’t want me to come at all in this +rain—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“We’ve got to go too, so we’ll take you home, +Lily,” said Annie Lee. “Come along, Amelia. We +may drop in to-morrow, Lisa, and Mama says that +if you want any extra sewing done that Roxie can +do it easily.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Lambert entered the dining room just after +the four girls had gone. There was a peculiar expression +on his face—a mixture of annoyance, pleasure +and pride, and he seemed to take no notice of +the disorder of the room as he kissed his two daughters, +and asked them to give him a cup of tea.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And, Jane, call your mother. Where is Carl?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I think he came in just a moment ago, father. +He has been out walking.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, well. Well, I’ve got a piece of news—quite +a piece of news, I must say.” Still, he seemed in +no hurry to part with it, and Jane and Elise were +left to exchange inquiring glances behind his back, +until Mrs. Lambert and Carl had obeyed the summons +of the master of the house.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And what is this piece of news, Peter?” asked +his wife, at length. They all looked up at him, as +he stood in front of the fire, drinking his tea.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, I must say I am very much surprised. +And yet not so much surprised either. I had an +idea that there was something in the boy, and that +was one reason I wanted to let him have his own +rope for a while—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Daddy!” cried Jane, springing up, “is it about +<em class="italics">Paul</em>?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Lambert looked at her with a little frown and +a shake of the head, but Jane did not see these warning +signs.</p> +<!-- File: 277.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Why, yes,” said Mr. Lambert, smoothing his +beard. “The boy, it seems won a third prize in that +competition. I found the letter in the mail that +was left at my office—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Daddy!” shrieked Jane. “Oh, let me see! It +isn’t—it can’t be true—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Don’t yell like that, Jane!” admonished Carl.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I will—I <em class="italics">must</em> yell! Oh, mother, darling, isn’t +it—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Sh, Janey! Of course it is wonderful news—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But Paul doesn’t know anything about it. Oh, +Daddy, where is he? Why he—” “<em class="italics">I</em> don’t see +how it could be—since his picture was burnt up,” +observed Carl. This fact had so far not occurred +to anyone.</p> +<p class="pnext">“That’s true!” exclaimed Mr. Lambert. “Do you +imagine that there is a mistake after all?” And +his face fell slightly. He was inordinately proud of +the honor that had redounded to the family from +his discredited nephew’s achievement.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, <em class="italics">no</em>! There’s no mistake!” cried Jane. “It +wasn’t the burnt picture—it was the other one—the +one he did on top of the flour barrel. Don’t you +remember, Mummy?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“How do <em class="italics">you</em> know?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, because I sent it off. After Paul had +gone—and he doesn’t know <em class="italics">anything</em>!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, well—the boy must learn of this, somehow,” +said Mr. Lambert. “It was absurd of him to +fly off in a temper as he did—but that’s the way of +young people. Gertrude, my dear, I think it would +be quite proper to have a notice of this inserted in +the <em class="italics">Frederickstown Star</em>. In fact, I dropped by on +my way home this evening, and told Jim Braintree +about it, and he’s putting it in on the front page to-morrow. +‘Well,’ he said to me, ‘I certainly must +congratulate you, Peter Lambert.’ The prize by +the way was seventy-five dollars. Not bad for a +youngster—by Jove! Frederickstown will have +reason to boast of this family for a good many +years to come, <em class="italics">I’m</em> thinking!” And the worthy +old man swelled almost visibly with pride, as if +in some way he was entirely responsible for the +new honor that had been bestowed upon his +house.</p> +<p class="pnext">In fact, not even Jane herself was more delighted +than her father who less than a year before had angrily +consigned the prize-winning picture to dust and +oblivion behind his desk.</p> +<p class="pnext">But it was all very well to say that Paul must +learn of his success. Where was he? For all that +they knew, for all that anyone knew, he might at +that very moment have been once again on the ocean, +or in New Zealand or Timbuctoo. This sad possibility +somewhat dampened Jane’s boundless, blissful +rapture; and yet she declared stoutly that she had +a feeling in her bones that Paul was coming +back—</p> +<p class="pnext">“And if he does come back, Daddy,” she asked +timidly, “will you—will it be all right?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“I haven’t the slightest doubt that as soon as he +gets over his little fit of temper, he will return,” +replied Mr. Lambert. “He must be running short +of money now, indeed—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">That</em> won’t bring him back!” interrupted Jane.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, well, I am sure that he will feel—I am +sure that he will realize—that he has acted very +impetuously—and—and will do the sensible thing,” +said Mr. Lambert a trifle impatiently. “And now, +Jane, will you bring me my slippers!”</p> +<!-- File: 280.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="chapter-xviiithe-wanderer-comes-home"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id19">CHAPTER XVIII—THE WANDERER COMES HOME</a></h2> +<p class="pfirst">The weeks which seemed so long to Elise and +Hyacinth, and so desperately crowded to Aunt Gertrude +(who was quite as excited and flustered as if +she were going to be married herself) <em class="italics">we</em> can skip +over at will. It is enough to say that within them +the old house underwent such a cleaning and scrubbing +and furbishing up as it had not known in five +and twenty years. Mr. Lambert talked of building +a new wing for the newly married couple. The +floors were scrubbed and freshly oiled, the brass +and pewter was polished until the antique household +wares fairly winked at you through the glass +doors of the cupboards. The woodwork was +rubbed until it shone like satin; fresh curtains went +up at the windows, carpets were beaten, the front +door and the window frames received a fine new +coat of green paint, and Mr. Lambert himself put +on a new latch to the door of the Bakery. And +when these wonders had been accomplished, Aunt +Gertrude entrusted the proprietorship of the Bakery +to Hyacinth and Anna, and solemnly shut herself +up to make the wedding cake. It was to be such a +wedding cake as Frederickstown had never seen before—a +mammoth delicacy, destined to be long remembered, +composed of spices and raisins and citron +and nuts, all buried under a snowy frosting, and +artistic decorations designed by the versatile Hyacinth, +who was allowed to contribute to this part +of it, only.</p> +<p class="pnext">And then came the day when the Samuel Winklers +arrived, and took up their quarters at the Red +Fox Inn, midway between Frederickstown and +Goldsboro. And after they had paid their respects +to their cousins, and presented their daughter-in-law-to-be +with innumerable gifts, there was a party in +their honor, at which Granny presided with the +greatest dignity and Mr. Lambert proposed no less +than eighteen toasts which were enthusiastically +drunk in blackberry wine. In fact, the wedding +festivities in honor of a union which restored the +house of Winkler to its former state of security +threatened to completely disorganize the delighted +community.</p> +<p class="pnext">At last the sixth of December—the wedding-day—was +come.</p> +<p class="pnext">In accordance with a time-honored custom, the +ceremony was performed at eight o’clock at night. +And what a night it was! The first snow of the +winter had fallen, covering streets and house-tops +with a thick, soft, sparkling mantle. And like a +Russian bride, Elise returned from the old church +with the sound of sleigh bells jingling in the clear, +frosty air.</p> +<p class="pnext">A beautiful bride she was, too, rosy and golden-haired +and blue-eyed; and as for Hyacinth! with a +flower in his button-hole, with his hair all sleek and +glossy, with such an expression of importance and +sedateness—it was no wonder that his parents gazed +upon him with eyes actually moist with pride, and +Elise thought him a matchless paragon amongst +men.</p> +<p class="pnext">No one knows to this day how all the guests that +came managed to crowd themselves into the old +house, but they did, and no less than thirty of them +sat down at the table with the bride and bridegroom. +There was scarcely one imprint of footsteps +in the new-fallen snow that night that did not +point in the direction of the Bakery.</p> +<p class="pnext">A little after nine o’clock, the musicians arrived, +Tom Drinkwater with his fiddle, and Mr. Mellitz +with his trombone in a huge green felt case, and +Frank Fisher with his harp and old Mr. Gilroy with +his cello. They settled themselves in a corner, tuned +up a bit, and then the dancing began.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was with immeasurable pride that on this occasion, +Mr. Lambert welcomed Mr. Sheridan +amongst his guests—Mr. Timothy Sheridan, nephew +to the late Major, and of a family that had had its +roots in Frederickstown as long as the Winklers +themselves, or nearly. Lily was a bridesmaid, and +it was with her that Mr. Lambert himself started +the dancing. Mrs. Deacon was there, gorgeous in +purple and plumes, the Websters in a solid phalanx—in +fact there was not a face that was familiar in +Frederickstown that was not to be seen that night +glowing with satisfaction and good will and personal +enjoyment under the roof of the Lambert-Winkler +dwelling.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was when the general merriment was at its +height that Jane, laden with a tray of refreshments +approached the overheated musicians who were +scraping and blowing and thumping away in that +corner of the dining room from which Mr. Lambert’s +desk—as an article that harmonized too little +with the elegance of the occasion—had been temporarily +banished.</p> +<p class="pnext">“In another four or five years or so, we’ll be making +music at <em class="italics">your</em> wedding no doubt—if we live, +eh?” said old Elias Gilroy at last laying aside his +cello for a moment, to take a long draught of cider. +When he came out of the mug, wiping his grizzled +moustaches delicately on a blue polka dot handkerchief +he winked merrily at Jane, who had sat down +beside him.</p> +<p class="pnext">“And why aren’t you twirling round with the +boys, my lassie?” he went on affectionately, now +helping himself to a gigantic slice of cake.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I came over to watch you—and besides, I’d +rather look on,” said Jane, carefully smoothing out +the skirt of her new blue silk dress. “Shall I get +you some more cider, Mr. Gilroy?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well—I’ll not trouble you,” said he, uncertainly, +“though if there’s plenty to be had—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“There’s lots. There’s lots and lots of everything!” +cried Jane. “I’ll bring a pitcher!”</p> +<p class="pnext">When the enthusiastic musicians had had “fresh +heart put into ’em” as Mr. Gilroy said, she stood +by watching them tune up their instruments for a +new onslaught on the famous, lively measures of +“Old Uncle Ned.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Oh, I <em class="italics">do</em> wish I could make music out of that +big thing!” she cried pointing to the cello.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You have to be born to it,” replied Mr. Gilroy +solemnly, sawing away with all his might. “It’s an +easier matter to blow a tune through that—” he +jerked his head in the direction of Mr. Mellitz’s +gleaming trombone, whose huge tones fairly +drowned out the voices of the other instruments. +Mr. Mellitz, though he might have taken offense at +the disparaging manner in which his colleague referred +to his instrument, seemed not to have heard +Mr. Gilroy’s remark. He sat behind the other +three, directly under the window, staring fixedly +down the shining tube of the trombone at his music;—a +meager, melancholy looking man, little given +to sociable conversation, with a tallow-colored +face which just now was swollen out as he forced +all the breath in his lean body into the mouthpiece.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why,” wondered Jane, “did he choose to play +the trombone?”</p> +<p class="pnext">With her hands folded in her lap, she sat watching +him fixedly, as he pushed his slide up and down. +All around her people were dancing, eating, drinking, +talking, laughing. People were leaving, people +were coming—she was not thinking about them—she +was not even thinking about solemn Mr. Mellitz +nor of how Mr. Gilroy coaxed his deep, sweet tones +out of the frayed strings of his old cello.</p> +<p class="pnext">She was wondering where Paul was. The very +gaiety of the family reunion made her feel the absence +of the outcast all the more keenly. Her cheerful +hope of his return had waned steadily during +the past weeks. There was no news of him, although +Mr. Lambert himself had tried to trace +him. No, he was gone.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Well, my lassie, if you watch us hard enough +no doubt you’ll learn a thing or two about it,” remarked +Mr. Gilroy, when the music came to a stop +at the end of the dance, and the musicians mopped +their perspiring faces. “Here, take this bow, since +you’re so curious, and have a try at it, while I +breathe easy a moment or two.” He put the neck +of his cello into her hand, and showed her how to +press her fingers on the strings.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Now, just take the bow so—like this, see? +That’s better—and <em class="italics">bite</em> the string with it—”</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane laughingly tried to do as she was told, but the +sound that the instrument emitted under her touch +showed only too plainly that sweetly as it could sing +under the fingers of Mr. Gilroy it had a very different +temper for rash amateurs.</p> +<p class="pnext">As she looked up, laughing, into the old man’s +face, she suddenly caught her breath in a +gasp. Through the window, just behind the long +head of Mr. Mellitz, it seemed to her that she +had seen a face—though the next moment it had +disappeared.</p> +<!-- File: 286.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“What is it?” inquired Mr. Gilroy, noticing her +frightened expression. “Aren’t seeing ghosts are +ye?” he added jocosely.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane shook her head, but she looked again, uneasily, +at the window. There was nothing there +but the reflection of the interior of the room—Anna +taking plates of the table, two or three older men +standing by the fire, the silhouettes of the musicians’ +heads, her mother hurrying in to see about something +and then hurrying out again, people moving +past the door.</p> +<p class="pnext">Then, all of a sudden, there it was again! Fantastically +white, it seemed to Jane, and apparently +without any body accompanying it, so that it looked +like a mask suspended outside the window. She +sprang up in a fright, not thinking for a moment +that it might be no more than the face of some +inquisitive wayfarer, who had stolen into the garden +to peer in upon the festivities.</p> +<p class="pnext">All at once, hope, fear, doubt and joy broke over +her.</p> +<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">“Paul!”</em></p> +<p class="pnext">The cello fell over onto the floor with an indignant +“thrum-m!” as she darted forward. The +next moment, she had opened the door, and stood +upon the snowy step, looking eagerly about in the +shadows of the garden.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Paul! Paul! Are you there?”</p> +<p class="pnext">A figure moved out of the darkness, into the shaft +of light that streamed through the open door.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Janey!” She heard the unmistakably familiar +short laugh as she flung herself into his bear-like +hug.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You’ve come back! I knew it! I knew you +would!” she cried, patting his shoulders and the +wet, rough sleeves of his shabby coat in a perfect +ecstasy of delight. “Oh, Paul—come in! come in +quickly!” But he drew back.</p> +<p class="pnext">“No, no Janey. I can’t do that. But what’s +going on, anyway?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why, Paul—don’t you know? It’s Elise—Elise’s +wedding. And what do you think? There’s +another Winkler after all—Oh, you’ve got to come +in, Paul—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“No; Janey—I can’t,” he repeated firmly. “I’ll +come back again some day, as I promised—but not +now. I can’t do it now. I only stopped to look +in—I’m on my way down to Riverbury—there’s a +fellow down there who says he has some work for +me, if I want to come. I—I just stopped to peek +in, thinking that perhaps I’d see you all sitting +around the fire. A fine wedding guest I’d make,” +he added laughing. “I’d be a worse mortification +to Uncle Peter than ever I was. No, Janey, I can’t. +Walk in there like this? The black sheep of the family +coming in like a vagabond at the wedding feast?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Indeed, he was shabby enough—and in his laugh +was a tell-tale note of something like shame. It +stung his pride not a little to have even Janey see +the plain evidences of the rather unsuccessful struggle +he had been waging with circumstances. He +wore the same old seaman’s cap, the same old short, +thick jacket—but frayed edges, patches, and empty +buttonholes did not escape Janey’s eyes, and he knew +it, and tried to draw out of the light. He was +much thinner too, and even a trifle taller, so that +his garments, which had never fitted him kindly +were now still looser in the places where they had +once been much too loose and tighter where they +had once been much too tight. He felt also that +the light showed only too plainly the traces that actual +hunger had drawn in his face, and of these he +was more ashamed than of his clothes.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You mustn’t stand out here, Janey—you’re +shivering in that thin dress. And I must say good-bye—you’ve +left the door open, and here come some +people.”</p> +<p class="pnext">Janey glanced over her shoulder. Through the +door from the hall, her father was entering the +dining room, with Elise, followed by Hyacinth and +Aunt Gertrude, and then the remaining guests. The +ceremony of solemnly drinking the bride’s health +was about to take place. Granny sat at the head of +the table.</p> +<p class="pnext">“How lovely Elise looks,” said Paul, “and how +nice it is to see them all. There’s Mrs. Deacon—and +Lily and Mr. Sheridan—and there’s my friend, +Amelia. Is that fellow with the beard the bridegroom?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“That’s Hyacinth. And he’s a Winkler—a real +true Winkler, Paul. I found him.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Did you?” said Paul, laughing, “I’m not surprised.”</p> +<!-- File: 289.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Only I didn’t know he was a Winkler—so it +doesn’t count—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Here comes Uncle Peter! He’s seen you, Janey. +Good-bye, dear.” But she held both his hands +tightly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I won’t let you go! I won’t, Paul! You don’t +understand. It’s all right—”</p> +<p class="pnext">Just then, Mr. Lambert pushed the half-open door +wide.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Jane! What are you doing? Come in at once—you’ve +chilled the whole house!”</p> +<p class="pnext">Everyone had turned, and was staring in amazement, +as Jane pulled Paul to the threshold, under +her father’s very nose.</p> +<p class="pnext">“What’s this?” cried Mr. Lambert, seizing his +nephew by the arm.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s—me, Uncle,” said Paul. “I am going. I +only—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Going!” cried Mr. Lambert. “Going! Not at +all! Come in! Come in!”</p> +<p class="pnext">The next thing that the bewildered Paul was +conscious of was that he was standing inside the +room, facing the table full of guests, with his +uncle’s arm jovially embracing his shoulders, Jane +clinging to his hand, and everyone exclaiming over +the returned prodigal.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ladies and gentlemen!” announced Mr. Lambert, +but his speech was cut short, as Aunt Gertrude +rushed forward to kiss the utterly dazed, +uncomprehending, and horribly embarrassed boy.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mr. Lambert began +again, “you are aware, I think, of the recent honor +bestowed upon my nephew—an honor which is +shared not only by his family, but by this community +of which he is a part!” The remainder of +the speech, no less than its resounding introduction +was pure Greek to Paul, who stood with his long +arms dangling, helplessly, and with open mouth, +gazing from face to face, as if trying to piece out +the solution of the mystery.</p> +<p class="pnext">Then everyone began to clap their hands. His +appearance had for the time being absorbed all interest. +Granny, almost hidden behind the towering +wedding cake, which had just been brought on to be +cut, pulled him to her, and kissed him. Carl, looking +very clean and spruce in his new suit, and snowy +collar and polished shoes, shook hands with him. +Elise embraced him, regardless of her silk dress, and +her flowers and her veil; Hyacinth, looking abnormally +solemn and important—the exuberant nature +lover and enemy of civilization had miraculously +vanished to give place to one of the most civilized +and sedate of young men—Hyacinth shook his +hand, and said something very incoherent and +flowery about the pleasure and honor of meeting his +distinguished cousin, and about their being in some +sense, kindred spirits.</p> +<p class="pnext">And then Paul, understanding nothing whatever, +not at all sure that he was not dreaming, but feeling +as happy as he was puzzled, took his place beside +his uncle, to drink the health of the bride, and long +life to the name of Winkler. It was nice to be +there, to see all the familiar faces, to hear the familiar +voices—above all it was good to have his +part in this celebration of family happiness, to feel +that these were his kin folk whose joys and sorrows +must affect his life just as his affected theirs. But +why was it that the glances that he met shone with +pride? What had <em class="italics">he</em> done? Why were they not +ashamed of him as he stood there, tattered and +muddy—the very picture of the aimless, shiftless +wanderer that his father had been before him? He +blushed for himself, feeling vaguely that he ought +not to be there, after all, that he should have resisted +Jane and Mr. Lambert and gone his way. +He looked around the familiar room,—above the +chimneyplace hung the old, clumsily executed portrait +of Great-grandfather Johann, in his snuff-colored +Sunday suit—a severely pleasant-looking +old man, with a constant expression of honesty and +self-respect—who now seemed to gaze down placidly +and commendingly upon the united gathering of his +descendants. He had worked for them, had old Johann +Winkler; it was his industry, his self-respect, +his respect for the opinions of his fellow-citizens +that had laid the foundations of their comfort and +prosperity and their good standing in the community; +from him had come the simple principles upon +which they lived and worked together. And Paul +felt, as he looked up into the painted blue eyes that +old Johann would have dealt harshly with those who +disregarded family responsibilities, or brought any +shadow of public censure upon the name. And +there, under those keen little blue eyes, he stood, +ragged and disreputable-looking, and the keen little +blue eyes seemed to ask him, “What does this mean, +sir?” Yet, Uncle Peter had bidden him to the +feast, and was even now filling the glass in front +of him.</p> +<p class="pnext">And then the toasts were drunk, and the glasses +clinked, and the wedding cake was cut. And after +that, Elise went up to her room to change her dress, +for the sleigh was at the door, and it was high time +that the bride and bridegroom should be on +their way. Of peculiar interest, the fact should +be chronicled that when the ascending bride +tossed her bouquet over the bannisters into the +midst of her maids, Dolly and Amelia, and Lily, +and Annie Lee, it was Amelia who caught the +nosegay!</p> +<p class="pnext">And at last, the sleigh with its jingling bells had +driven swiftly away over the snowy road. The last +handful of rice had been flung; the last guest had +gone, and Aunt Gertrude stood laughing and weeping +over the flight of the first of her little flock—though +indeed Elise and her Hyacinth were going +no farther than Salisbury, and would be back in +two days!</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul and Jane stood side by side on the rice-strewn +steps looking up the moonlit street.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Mr. Daniels is building a porch on his house, +isn’t he?” remarked Paul, quickly detecting the little +alterations that had occurred on that familiar street +since his going.</p> +<!-- File: 293.png- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --> +<p class="pnext">“Come in, children,” said Aunt Gertrude, “come +in, my dears, and let me count you all to make +sure that no more than one has run away from +me!”</p> +<p class="pnext">And when they had all gathered around her in +the old dining room in the midst of the gay disorder +of the wedding-feast, she made a pretense of +counting them, laughing and crying at the same +time.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Here is my Jane and my Carl, and my two sleepy +twinnies! That’s four—and here’s my missing +fifth!” And she gave Paul an extra kiss.</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul looked around him. Then turning to his +uncle he said;</p> +<p class="pnext">“Uncle Peter, you’ve been very kind to me. I +had no intention to come in here to-night—I only +stopped to look in at you all—and I’m afraid I +wasn’t anything to be proud of at Elise’s wedding—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Come, my boy, no more of that!” said Mr. Lambert +briskly; then he came closer to Paul, and laying +his hand on his shoulder looked keenly into the +lean, and somewhat haggard face.</p> +<p class="pnext">“You’ve not found life easy since you went +away?” he asked kindly.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Not too easy, sir—and not so bad either,” returned +Paul, sturdily. “I’ve been out of luck a bit +lately, but I’m on my way now to Riverbury. +There’s a man there that has good, honest work for +me. With a little time, sir, I hope—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Why should you be on your way to Riverbury +for work when there’s work enough in this town, +and a comfortable home for you?”</p> +<p class="pnext">Paul looked uncertainly from face to face, and +then at his uncle again.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It’s here that your people have lived these many +years,” went on Mr. Lambert. “It’s here that those +who are proud of you live now,—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“<em class="italics">Proud</em> of me?” repeated Paul; then he hung his +head as he said in a low voice, “It is not long since +that you showed me you had good reason to be +ashamed of me, sir. I was only hoping that in a +little I might do—I might be of some account, sir—as +<em class="italics">he</em> would expect,” and he jerked his head as he +spoke toward the picture of old Johann.</p> +<p class="pnext">“My boy, I do not say but that I may have judged +you over-harshly for what to other men might seem +a light enough indiscretion. I thought you—a +scatter-brained lad that thought too little of things +that old men know to be worth valuing. I had but +little sympathy with your notions, and was angered +that you should prattle of pictures and what-not +when—ah, well, let all that be forgotten.”</p> +<p class="pnext">“But Daddy!” cried Jane suddenly, “Paul doesn’t +know!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Doesn’t know what?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Let <em class="italics">me</em> tell him! Let me tell him! It’s your +picture, Paul—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What picture?” asked Paul, with a puzzled +frown, looking down at her eager little face.</p> +<p class="pnext">“It won, Paul! Don’t you understand—it won! +And we’re all so proud of you—and it was in the +papers—only we didn’t know where you were, +and—”</p> +<p class="pnext">“What <em class="italics">are</em> you talking about, Janey?” demanded +Paul, cutting short this rush of breathless words. +“<em class="italics">My</em> picture won? What picture? Won what?”</p> +<p class="pnext">“The other one—the one that wasn’t burnt—oh, +don’t <em class="italics">anybody</em> interrupt me! I want to tell him +every bit. And they said that ‘in spite of many +something-or-other faults it showed’—I’ve forgotten +what—they said it was awfully, awfully good—oh, +I don’t know where to begin!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“Begin at the beginning, darling. No one will +interrupt your story,” said Aunt Gertrude, drawing +Jane to her. “And Paul’s not going to run away.”</p> +<p class="pnext">So Janey took a deep breath and commenced +afresh; while Paul listened, first growing pale, and +then blushing a deep red. He felt the glow rushing +all over him, and when she had finished, he could +not say a word. They were all looking at him with +eyes full of that warm pride that only a family can +feel, and it seemed to him that his triumph had +brought more happiness to them even than to himself. +He could not think of anything to say to them +all, and presently he got up, and walked over to the +window, where he stood looking out into the cold +little garden. But what he saw was only the reflection +of the group around the fire—that very group +which he had so often pictured to himself with such +homesick longing during his months of exile. He +thought of his lonely father, and his aimless wanderings, +and then he knew that he was glad to have come +home again. The world could teach him no more +than he could learn by working and growing and +thinking among his own people, and the world +could not give him any praise half so sweet, or +half so inspiring as their simple pride.</p> +<p class="pnext">Suddenly he felt a warm little hand slip into his. +It was Janey.</p> +<p class="pnext">She looked up at him timidly—his serious profile +seemed quite stern to her.</p> +<p class="pnext">“Paul, what are you thinking about now?” she +asked plaintively.</p> +<p class="pnext">Then he laughed, and looked more like his old self.</p> +<p class="pnext">“I was thinking that I shall <em class="italics">not</em> go away—if Uncle +Peter means that I needn’t. And I was thinking +how unpleasant things might be if you, ma’am, attended +strictly to your own affairs!”</p> +<p class="pnext">“And I,” said Mr. Lambert, “am thinking that it +is time we all went to bed. Gertrude, my dear, +I hope that Anna will be able to get everything into +order to-morrow. I shall want my desk to be in +place especially. And—er—Breakfast at seven, +as usual.”</p> +<hr class="docutils"/> +<p class="pfirst">And now the doors and windows were locked, and +the lights were put out, and the household was +silent and slumbering. But the pale reflection of +the moonlit snow glimmered through the window +upon the scene of the late revelry, and a red glow +still shone among the ashes of the fire, throwing a +faint red light through the shadows that deepened +over the painted face of Great-grandfather Johann. +And a well-contented expression that plump, ruddy +old face wore—a comfortable, benevolent patriarchal +look, as if that excellent old lover of law and +order were saying, “And now I think everything is +quite as it should be!”</p> +<p class="center pnext">THE END</p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 5em"> +</div> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 35593 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |