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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -</style> -<title>THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Last Rose of Summer" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Rupert Hughes" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1914" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="40016" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2012-06-17" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Last Rose of Summer" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Last Rose of Summer" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="rose.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2012-06-17T17:54:00.827103+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40016" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Rupert Hughes" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2012-06-17" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.19b4 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -<style type="text/css"> -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno: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 class="document" id="the-last-rose-of-summer"> -<h1 class="document-title level-1 pfirst title">THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER</h1> - -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en noindent pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the <a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a> -included with this eBook or online at -<a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a>.</p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container noindent white-space-pre-line" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst white-space-pre-line"><span class="white-space-pre-line">Title: The Last Rose of Summer<br /> -<br /> -Author: Rupert Hughes<br /> -<br /> -Release Date: June 17, 2012 [EBook #40016]<br /> -<br /> -Language: English<br /> -<br /> -Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line">*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER</span> ***</p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="width: 50%" id="figure-11"> -<span id="cover"></span><img class="align-center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption figure"> -Cover</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure" style="width: 51%" id="figure-12"> -<span id="deborah-at-dressing-table"></span><img class="align-center" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=" " src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption figure"> -Deborah at dressing table</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container titlepage white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line x-large">THE LAST ROSE<br /> -OF SUMMER</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst small white-space-pre-line">BY</p> -<p class="medium pnext white-space-pre-line">RUPERT HUGHES</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line">Author of<br /> -<em class="italics white-space-pre-line">What Will People Say?</em></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">HARPER & BROTHERS<br /> -NEW YORK AND LONDON<br /> -MCMXIV</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container verso white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="center pfirst small white-space-pre-line">COPYRIGHT 1914, BY HARPER AND BROTHERS<br /> -PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA<br /> -PUBLISHED OCTOBER, 1914</p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst x-large">THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CHAPTER I</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">As Mrs. Shillaber often said, the one -good thing about her old house was -the fact that "you could throw the -dining-room into the poller" when you wanted -to give parties or funerals or weddings -or such things. You had only to fold -up the accordeon-pleated doors, push the -sofa back against the wall, and lay a rug -over the register.</p> -<p class="pnext">To-night she had thrown the dining-room -into the poller and filled both -rooms with guests. There were so many -guests that they occupied every seat in -the house, including the up-stairs chairs -and a large batch of camp-stools from -Mr. Crankshaw's, the undertaker's.</p> -<p class="pnext">In Carthage it was never a real party -or an important funeral unless those -perilous old man-traps of Mr. Crankshaw's -appeared. They always added a -dash of excitement to the dullest evening, -for at a critical moment one of them could -be depended upon to collapse beneath -some guest, depositing him or her in a -small but complicated woodpile on the floor.</p> -<p class="pnext">Less dramatic, but even droller, was -the unfailing spectacle of the solemn man -who entered a room carrying one of these -stools neatly folded, proceeded to a -chosen spot, and there attempted vainly -to open the thing. This was sure to -happen at least once, and it gave an -irresistibly light touch even to the -funerals. The obstinacy of some of -Mr. Crankshaw's camp-stools was so -diabolic that it almost implied a perverse -intelligence. And the one that was not -to be solved generally fell to the -solemnest man in the company.</p> -<p class="pnext">To-night at Mrs. Shillaber's the -evening might be said to be well under -way; fat Mr. Geggat had already splashed -through his camp-stool, and Deacon -Peavey was now at work on his; a snicker -had just sneezed out of the minister's -wife (of all people!), and the Deacon -himself had breathed an expletive -dangerously close to profanity.</p> -<p class="pnext">The party was held in honor of -Mrs. Shillaber's girlhood friend, Birdaline -Nickerson (now Mrs. Phineas Duddy). -Birdaline and Mrs. Shillaber (then Josie -Barlow) had been fierce rivals for the love -of Asaph Shillaber. Josie had got him -away from Birdaline, and Birdaline had -married Phin Duddy for spite, just to -show certain people that Birdaline could -get married as well as other people and -to prove that Phin Duddy was not -inconsolable for losing Josie, whom -he had courted before Asaph cut him out.</p> -<p class="pnext">Luck had smiled on Birdaline and -Phin. They had moved away–to -Peoria, no less! And now they were back -on a visit to his folks.</p> -<p class="pnext">When Birdaline saw what Time had -done to Asaph she forgave Josie -completely. It was Josie who did not forgive -Birdaline, for Peoria had done wonders -for Phin. Everybody said that; and -Birdaline also brought along a grown-up -daughter who was evidently beautiful -and, according to her mother, highly -accomplished. Why, one of the leading -vocal teachers in Peoria (and very highly -spoken of in Chicago) had heard her sing -and had actually told her that she ought -to have her voice cultivated; he had, -indeed; fact was he had even offered to -cultivate it himself, and at a reduced rate -from his list price, too!</p> -<p class="pnext">It seemed strange to Birdaline and -Josie to meet after all these years and be -jealous, not of each other, but of -daughters as big as they themselves had been -the last time they had seen each other. -Both women told both women that they -looked younger than ever, and each saw -the pillage of time in the opposite mien, -the accretion of time in the once so -gracile figure. It was melancholy -satisfaction at best, for each knew all too well -how her own mirror slapped her in the -face with her own image.</p> -<p class="pnext">When Birdaline bragged of her daughter's -voice, Josie had to be loyal to her -oldest girl's own piano-playing. Birdaline, -perhaps with serpentine wisdom, -insisted on hearing Miss Shillaber play the -piano; it was sure, she thought, to -render the girl unpopular. But the solo -annoyed the guests hardly at all, for they -could easily talk above the feeble clamor -of that old Shillaber piano, in which even -the needy Carthage tuner had refused to -twist another wrest-pin these many years.</p> -<p class="pnext">After the piano had ceased to spatter -staccato discords, and people had -applauded politely, of course Josie had to -ask Birdaline's daughter to sing. And -the girl, being of the new and rather -startling school of manners which accedes -without undue urging, blushingly -consented, provided there was any music -there that she could sing and some one -would play her accompa'ment.</p> -<p class="pnext">A tattered copy of "The Last Rose of -Summer" was unearthed, and Mr. Norman -Maugans, who played the melodeon -at the Presbyterian prayer-meetings, was -mobbed into essaying the accompa'ment. -He was no great shucks at sight-reading, -he said, but he would do his durnedest.</p> -<p class="pnext">The news that the pretty and novel -Miss Buddy would sing brought all the -guests forward in a huddle like cattle at -home-coming time. Even Deacon Peavey -gave up his vow to open that camp-stool -or die and sat down in a draught to listen. -The perspiration cooled on him and he -caught a terrible cold, but that was -Mrs. Peavey's business, not ours.</p> -<p class="pnext">Miss Pamela Duddy sidled into the -elbow of the piano with a most attractive -kittenishness and waited for the prelude -to be done. This required some time, -since the ancient sheet-music had a -distressing habit of folding over and, as it -were, swooning from the rack into the -pianist's arms. Besides, Mr. Maugans -was so used to playing the melodeon that -instead of tapping the keys he was -continually squeezing them, and nothing -came. And when he wished to increase -his volume of tone he would hold his -hands still and slowly open his knees -against swell-levers that were not there. -This earnest futility gave so much -amusement to Josie's youngest daughter that -she had to be eyed out of the room by her -mother.</p> -<p class="pnext">Miss Pamela saved the day by a sudden -inspiration, a recollection of what she had -seen done by one of the leading sopranos -from Indianapolis at a recital in the Star -course at Peoria; Miss Pamela bent her -pretty head and took from her juvenile -breast one big red rose and held it in her -hands while she sang. During the final -stanza she plucked away its petals one by -one and at the end let the shredded core -fall upon the highly improbable roses -woven in Josie's American Wilton carpet.</p> -<p class="pnext">The girl's features and her attitudes -were sheer Grecian; her accent was the -purest Peoria. Now and then she -remembered to insert an Italian "a," but -she forgot to suppress the Italian "r," -which is exactly the same as that of -Illinois, but lacks its context or prestige. -Her fresh, uncultivated voice was less -faithful to the key than to her exquisite -throat. To that same exquisite throat -clung one fascinated eye of Mr. Maugans's, -whose other orb angrily glowered -at the music as if to overawe it. Had he -possessed a third eye it might have guided -his hands along the keyboard with more -accuracy, but this detail could have -affected the result but little, since his hands -were incessantly compelled to clutch the -incessantly deciduous music and slap it -back on the rack.</p> -<p class="pnext">Two stanzas had thus been punctuated -before a shy old maid named Deborah -Larrabee ventured to rise and stand at -the piano, supporting the music. This -compelled her to a closer proximity to a -nice young man than she had known for -so many years that she almost outblushed -the young girl.</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah was afraid to look at anybody, -yet when she cast her eyes downward -she had to watch those emotional knees -of Mr. Maugans's slowly parting in the -crescendo that never came.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was an ordeal for everybody–singer, -pianist, and music-sustainer. But -the audience was friendly, and the -composer and the poet were too dead to gyrate -in their distant graves. The song, -therefore, had unmitigated success, and the -words were so familiar that everybody -knew pretty well what Pamela was -driving at when she sang:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">'Tis thuh lah-ha-ha strow zof sum-mah</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Le-ef' bloo-oo-hoo-minnng uh-lone;</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Aw lur lu-uh-uh vlee come-pan-yun</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Zah-har fay-ay-yay dud ahnd gawn–</div> -</div> -<div class="line">No-woe flow-wurr rof her kinn-drud,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">No-woe ro-hose buh dis ni-eye-eye-eye-eye-eye</div> -</div> -<div class="line">To re-fle-eh-ec' bah-cur blu-shuzz</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Aw-hor gi-yi-hiv su-high for su-high!</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">There was hardly a dry eye or a -protesting ear in the throng as she reached -the climax:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Thu-us ki-yine-dlee I scat-tur-r-r</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Thy-hi lea-heave zore thuh be-eh-eh-eh-eh-head</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Whur-r-r thy may-hay-yate zuv thuh gar-r-dun-n-n-n</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Lie-eye sceh-eh-entluss ahnd dead,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Whur-r thy may-YAH-YAH-yah thuh gah-dah</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Lie-eye sceh-heh-hen-less ahnd-ah dead-ah.</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">The girl's mother was not hard to find -among the applauding auditors. She -looked like the wrecked last September's -rose of which her daughter was the next -June's bud. The softened mood of -Birdaline and the tears that bedewed her -cheeks gave her back just enough of the -beauty she had had to emphasize how -much she had lost.</p> -<p class="pnext">And Josie, her quondam rival in the -garden, was sweetened by melancholy, -too. It was not hospitality alone, nor -mere generosity, but a passing sympathy -that warmed her tone as she squeezed -Birdaline's arm and told her how well her -daughter had sung.</p> -<p class="pnext">A number of matrons felt the same -attar of regret in the air. They had been -beautiful in their days and in their ways, -and now they felt like the dismantled -rose on the floor. The common tragedy -of beauty belated and foredone saddened -everybody in the room; the old women -had experienced it, the young women -foresaw it, the men knew it as the -destruction of the beauties they loved or -had loved. Everybody was sad but -Deborah Larrabee.</p> -<p class="pnext">That homely little old spinster slipped -impudently into the elbow of the piano–into -the place still warm from the presence -of Pamela–and she railed at the -sorrow of her schoolmates, Josie and -Birdaline. Her voice was as sharp as -the old piano-strings:</p> -<p class="pnext">"That song's all wrong, seems to me, -girls. Pretty toon and nice words, but I -can't make out why ever'body feels sorry -for the last rose of summer. It's the -luckiest rose in the world. The rest of -'em have bloomed too soon or just when -all the other roses are blooming, or when -people are sort of tired of roses. But this -one is saved up till the last. And then, -when the garden is all dying out and the -bushes are just dead stalks and the other -roses are wilted and brown and folks say, -'I'd give anything for the sight of a rose,' -along comes this rose and–blooms alone!</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's that way in my little yard. -There's always a last rose that comes -when the rest have gone to seed, and -that's the one I prize. Seems to me it -has the laugh on all the rest. The song's -all wrong, I tell you, girls!"</p> -<p class="pnext">This heresy had the usual success of -attacks on sacred texts–the orthodox -paid no heed to the value of the -argument; they simply resented its -impudence. But all they said to Deborah was -an indulgent "That's so, Debby," and a -polite "I never thought of that."</p> -<p class="pnext">As Deborah turned away, triumphant, -to repeat what she had just said to -Mr. Maugans, she overheard Birdaline -murmur to Josie in a kinship of contempt, -"Poor old Debby!"</p> -<p class="pnext">And Josie consented: "She can't -understand! She never was a rose."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CHAPTER II</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was as if Birdaline and Josie had -slipped a knife under Deborah's left -slipped a knife under Deborah's left -shoulder-blade and pushed it into her -heart. She felt a mortal wound. She -clung to the piano and remembered -something she had overheard Birdaline say in -exactly that tone far back in that -primeval epoch when Debby had been -sixteen–as sweetless a sixteen as a girl -ever endured.</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah had not been pretty then, or -ever before, or since. But she had been -a girl, and had expected to have lovers -to select a husband from.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yet lovers were denied to Deborah. -The boys had been fond of her and nice -to her. For Deborah was a good fellow; -she was never jealous or exacting. She -was jolly, understood a joke, laughed a -lot, and danced well enough. She never -whined or threatened if a fellow neglected -her or forgot to call for his dance or pay -a party-call–or anything. She accepted -attentions as compliments, not as taxes. -Consequently she collected fewer than -she might have had. The boys respected -her so much, too, that none of them -insulted her with flirtatiousness. But -how her hungry heart had longed to be -insulted! How she had yearned to fight -her way out from a strong man's -audacious arms and to writhe away from his -daring lips!</p> -<p class="pnext">On that memorable night Josie had -given a party and Deborah had gone. -No fellow had taken her; but, then, -Josie lived just across the street from the -Larrabees, and Debby could run right -over unnoticed and run home alone -safely afterward. Debby was safe -anywhere where it was not too dark to see -her. Her face was her chaperon.</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph Shillaber took Birdaline to -Josie's party that night, and he danced -three times with Debby. Each time–as -she knew and pretended not to know–he -had come to her because of a mix-up -in the program or because she was the -only girl left without a partner. But a -dance was a dance, and Asaph was awful -light on his feet, for all he was so big.</p> -<p class="pnext">After she had danced the third time -with him he led her hastily to a chair -against the stairway, deposited her like -an umbrella, and left her. She did not -mind his desertion, but sat panting with -the breathlessness of the dance and with -the joy of having been in Asaph's arms. -Then she heard low voices on the -stairway, voices back of her, just above her -head. She knew them perfectly.</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph was quarreling with Birdaline. -Birdaline was attacking Asaph because -he had danced three times with Josie.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But she's the hostess!" Asaph had -retorted, and Birdaline snapped back:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then why don't she dance with some -of the other fellas, then? Everybody's -noticing how you honey-pie round her."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I danced with Deb Larrabee -three times, too," Asaph pleaded. "Why -don't you fuss about that?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah perked an anxious ear to hear -how Birdaline would accept this rivalry, -and Birdaline's answer fell into her ear like poison:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Deb Larrabee! Humph! You can -dance with that old thing till the cows -come home, and I won't mind. But you -can't take me to a party and dance three -times with Josie Barlow. You can't, and -that's all. So there!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph had a fierce way with women. -He talked back to them as if they were -men. And now he rounded on Birdaline: -"I'll take who I please, and I'll dance -with who I please after I get there, and -if you don't like it you can lump it!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah did not linger to hear the -result of the war that was sure to be -waged. There was no strength for -curiosity in her hurt soul. She wanted to -crawl off into a cellar and cower in the -rubbish like a sick cat. Birdaline's -opinion of her was a ferocious condemnation -for any woman-thing to hear. It was her -epitaph. It damned her, past, present, -and future. She sneaked home without -telling anybody good-by.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had the next dance booked with -Phineas Duddy, but she felt that he -would not remember her if he did not -see her. And since on the next day -nobody–not even Phineas–ever mentioned -her flight, she knew that she had -not been missed.</p> -<p class="pnext">She cried and cried and cried. She -told her mother that she had a bad -cold, to excuse her eyes that would not -stop streaming. She cried herself out, as -mourners do; then gradually accepted -life, as mourners do.</p> -<p class="pnext">That was long ago, and now, after all -these years–years that had proved the -truth of Birdaline's estimate of her; -years in which Birdaline had married -Asaph out of Josie's arms, and Josie had -married Phineas out of Birdaline's -private graveyard, and both of them had -borne children and endured their -consequences–even now Deborah must hear -again the same relentless verdict as -before. Time had not improved her or -brought her luck or lover, husband or child.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had thought that she had grown -used to herself and her charmless lot, -but the wound began to bleed afresh. -She had the same impulse to take flight–to -play the cat in the cellar–again. But -her escape was checked by a little excitement.</p> -<p class="pnext">Close upon the heels of Birdaline's -unconscious affront to Deborah, Birdaline -herself received an unconscious affront.</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph, desiring to be hospitable and -to pay beauty its due, came forward at -the end of the song to where little -Pamela stood, receiving Carthage's -homage with all the gracious condescension -of Peoria. And Asaph roared out in the -easy hearing of both his own wife and of -Pamela's mother:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, Miss Pamela, you sang grand. -I got no ear for music, but you suit me -right down to the ground. And you're -so dog-on pretty! I wouldn't care if you -sang like all-get-out. You look like your -mother did when she was your age. You -might not think it to look at your ma -now, but in her day she was one of the -best lookers in this whole town; same -color eyes as you–and hair–and, oh, -a regular heart-breaker."</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph's memory of Birdaline's eyes -and hair was wrong, as a man's usually -is. His praise was a two-edged sword of -tactlessness.</p> -<p class="pnext">He slashed Birdaline by forgetting her -color and by implying that she retained -no traces of her beauty, and he gashed -Josie because he implied a livelier -memory of Birdaline's early graces than a -husband has any right to cherish.</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph had counted on doing a very -gracious thing. When he had finished his -little oration he glanced at Birdaline for -recompense and received a glare of anger; -he turned away to Josie and received -from her eyes a buffet of wrath. He felt -that he had made a fool of himself again, -and his ready temper was up at once. -He crossed glares with his wife, and -everybody in eye-shot instantly felt a duel -begun. It was not going to be so dull -an evening, after all. Even Debby -lingered to see what the result of the -Shillaber conflict would be. She was also -checked by the evidences that -refreshments were about to be served. -Chicken-salad and ice-cream were not frequent -enough in her life to be overlooked. -Disparagement and derision were her -every-day porridge. Ice-cream was a -party. So she lingered.</p> -<p class="pnext">The Shillabers' hired girl, in a clean -apron and a complete armor of blushes, -appeared at the dining-room door and -beckoned. Josie summoned her more than -willing children to pass the plates. She -nodded to Asaph to come and roll the -ice-cream freezer into place and scrape -off the salty ice. Then she waylaid him -in the kitchen, and their wrangle reached -the speedily overcrowded dining-room in -little tantalizing slices as the swinging -door opened to admit or emit one of the -children. But it always swung shut at -once. It was like an exciting serial with -most of the instalments omitted.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CHAPTER III</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The guests made desperate efforts -to pretend that they were unaware -to pretend that they were unaware -of the feud and at the same time to -follow it. They were polite enough even -to try to ignore the salt the wrathful -Asaph had let slip into the ice-cream.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the cheerful stampede for the -dining-room Debby had crowded into a sofa -alongside another re-visitor to the town, -Newton Meldrum, whom she had known -but slightly. He had gone with the older -girls and had already left Carthage when -Debby came out–as far as she ever came -out before she went back.</p> -<p class="pnext">Newt Meldrum had prospered, according -to Carthage standards. He was now -the "credit man" for a New York wholesale -house. Debby had not the faintest -idea what a credit man was. But Asaph -knew all too well. As the owner of -the largest department store in Carthage, -Asaph owed the New York house more -money than he could pay. He gave that -as a reason for owing it still more. The -New York house sent Meldrum out to -Carthage to see whether it would be more -profitable to close Asaph up or tide him -over another season.</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph's wife chose this anxious moment -to give a party to Birdaline! Asaph -protested violently that it would make a -bad impression on Meldrum to be seen -giving parties when he could not pay his -bills. But Josie was running a little -social business of her own, and not to -entertain Birdaline would be to go into -voluntary bankruptcy. She could still -get the necessary things charged–and to -Josie getting a thing charged was just -a little cheaper than getting it for nothing. -It didn't put you under obligations, like -accepting gifts. Asaph forbade her to -give the party, but of course she gave -it, anyway, and he was not brave enough -to forbid the grocer to honor her requisitions.</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph had to invite Meldrum, and -Josie announced that she would show -how much a wife can help her husband; -she promised to lavish on Meldrum -especial consideration and to introduce him -to some pretty girls (he was a notorious -bachelor).</p> -<p class="pnext">She forgot him at once for her ancient -rivalry with Birdaline. And now Asaph -forgot him in the excitement of quarrel.</p> -<p class="pnext">Indeed, host and hostess ignored their -fatal guest so completely that they left -him to eat his supper alongside the -least-considered woman in town–poor old -"Dubby Debby."</p> -<p class="pnext">Debby had long ago fallen out of the -practice of expecting attention from -anybody. To-night she was so grievously -wounded that she forgot her custom of -squandering the consideration she rarely -got back. She said nothing to her elbow -neighbor, but sat pondering her own -shame and trying to extract some -ice-cream from between the spots of salt. -A few big tears had welled to her eyelids -and dropped into her dish. She blamed -herself for the salt. Then she heard her -neighbor grumble:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Say, Debby, is your ice-cream all salty?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye-es, it is," she murmured, fluttering.</p> -<p class="pnext">"So's mine. Funny thing, there's always -salt in the ice-cream. Ever noticed it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tha-that's so; there usually is–a little."</p> -<p class="pnext">"A lot! That's life, I guess. Poor -old Asaph! Plenty of salt in his -ice-cream, eh? What's the matter with that -wife of his, anyway? Aren't they happy -together?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, I guess they're as happy as -married folks ever are," Debby answered, -absently, and then gasped at the horrible -philosophy she had uttered.</p> -<p class="pnext">Meldrum threw her a glance and laughed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Debby winced. He probably was -saying to himself, "Sour grapes!" At least -she thought he would think that. But -she had not meant to be foxy. The fox -in the fable had tried to leap to the -grapes before he maligned them. Debby -had hardly come near enough to them -or made effort enough toward them to -say that she had failed.</p> -<p class="pnext">But Meldrum had not thought, "Sour -grapes!" He only remembered that -"Debby" was "Debby." In these -returns to childhood circles one rarely -knows what has happened between then -and now. He remembered Debby as an -ugly little brat of a girl, and he saw that -she was still homely. But plenty of -homely women were married. He proved -his ignorance by his next words:</p> -<p class="pnext">"You married, Debby?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"N-no," she faltered, without daring -even to venture a "not yet." He surprised -her shame with a laughing compliment:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Wise lady! Neither am I. Shake!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Then she turned on the sofa so that -she could see him better. His eyes were -twinkling. He was handsome, citified, -sleek, comfortable. Yet he had never married!</p> -<p class="pnext">He was holding out his hand. And -because it commanded hers she put hers -in it, and he squeezed her long, fishy fin -in a big, warm, comfortable palm. And -she gave her timid, smiling eyes into his -big, smiling stare and wondered why she -smiled. But she liked it so much that -fresh tears rushed to her eyelids–little -eager, happy tears that could not have -had much salt in them, for one or two -of them bounced into her ice-cream. Yet -it did not taste bitter now.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CHAPTER IV</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Asaph came in then and looked -around the room with defiant eyes -around the room with defiant eyes -that dared anybody to be uncomfortable. -He recognized Meldrum with a start, and -realized that the most important guest -had been left to Deb Larrabee, of all -people. This misstep might mean ruin -to him. His anger changed to anxiety, -and he made haste to carry Meldrum -away. He was inspired to present him -to Pamela.</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah, abandoned on the sofa, -studied Pamela with wonder. How -beautiful the child was! How she drew the -men! How their eyes fed upon her! -How she queened it in her little court! -Everywhere she went it must be so. In -Peoria they must have gathered about -her just as here. They must be missing -her in Peoria now. When she went back -they would be glad. Or if she went on -to Chicago men would gather about her -there–or in Omaha, or Council Bluffs, -or Toledo–anywhere!</p> -<p class="pnext">It was manifest enough why the men -gathered about the girl. She delighted -the senses. She improved the view. She -was the view. Suavity of contour, -proportion of feature, silkiness of texture, -felicity of tint; every angle masked with -a curve, every joint small and included, -desirableness, cuddlesomeness, kissableness, -warmth, and all the things that make -up loveliness were Pamela's.</p> -<p class="pnext">The contrast between herself and -Pamela was so cruel that Deborah's -heart rebelled. She demanded of Heaven: -"Why so much to her and none to me? -My mother was as good as her mother, -and better-looking in her day; and my -father was a handsome man. Why was -I made at all if not well made? Why -allowed to live if not fit for life? My -elder sister that died was more beautiful -than Pamela, but she died. Why couldn't -I have died in her place, or taken the -beauty she laid aside as I wore her -cast-off clothes? Yet I live, and I shall never -be married, shall never be a mother, shall -never be of any use or any beauty. Why? Why?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Bitter, bitter were her thoughts as she -sat with her plate in her lap. She hardly -noticed when Josie took the plate away. -She fell into an almost sleep of reverie -and woke with a start to find that -everybody else was crowding forward to hear -Pamela sing. She was repeating "The -Last Rose" by request. Mr. Maugans -had said he would like another whack at -that accompa'ment.</p> -<p class="pnext">Debby felt again that stab of -Birdaline's–"Poor Debby! She never was a rose."</p> -<p class="pnext">She could not bear to remain. She -tiptoed from the dining-room, unnoticed, -and went out at the side-door, drawing -her shawl over her head. She must -sneak home alone as usual. Thank -Heaven, it was only a block and the -streets were black.</p> -<p class="pnext">As she reached the front gate she met -a man who had just come down from the -porch. It was Meldrum. He peered at -her in the dim light of the street-lamp -and called out:</p> -<p class="pnext">"That you, Debby? Couldn't you -stand it any longer? Neither could I. -That girl is a peach to look at, but she -can't sing for sour apples; and as for -brains, she's a nut, a pure pecan! I -guess I'm too old or not old enough to be -satisfied with staring at a pretty hide -on a pretty frame. Which way you -going? I'll walk along with you if you -don't mind."</p> -<p class="pnext">If she didn't mind! Would Lazarus -object if Dives sat down on the floor beside -him and brought along his trencher?</p> -<p class="pnext">Debby was so bewildered that the -sidewalk reeled beneath her intoxicated -feet. She stumbled till Meldrum took -her hand and set it in the crook of his -arm, and she trotted along as meek as -Tobias with the angel.</p> -<p class="pnext">All, all too soon they reached her house. -But he paused at the gate. She dared -not invite him even to the porch.</p> -<p class="pnext">If her mother heard a man's voice there -she would probably open the window -upstairs and shriek: "Murder! Thieves! Help!"</p> -<p class="pnext">So Debby waited at the gate while -the almost invisible Meldrum chattered -on. She was so afraid that he would go -every next minute that she hardly heard -what he said. But he had only a hotel -room ahead of him. He was used to -late hours. He was in a mood for talk. -The paralyzed Debby was a perfect -listener, and in that intense dark she was -as beautiful as Cleopatra would have been.</p> -<p class="pnext">To her he was solely a voice, a voice -of strange cynicisms, yet of strange -comfort to her. He was laughing at the -people she held in awe. "This town's a -joke to me," he said. "It's a side-show -full of freaks." And he mocked the -great folk of the village as if they were -yokels. He laughed at their customs. -He ridiculed many, many things that -Debby had believed and suffered from -believing. He ridiculed married people -and marriage from the superior heights -of one who could have married many and -had rejected all. It was strangely -pleasant hearing to her who had observed -marriage from the humble depths of one -whom all had rejected. He talked till he -heard the town clock whine eleven times, -then he said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good Lord! I didn't know it was -so late. I must have talked your arm -off, Debby. I don't get these moods -often. It takes a mighty good listener -to loosen me up. Good night! Don't -let any of these fellows bunco you into -marrying 'em. There's nothing in it, -Debby. Take it from me. Good night."</p> -<p class="pnext">She felt rather than saw that he lifted -his hat. She felt again his big hand -enveloping hers, and she answered its -squeeze with a desperate little clench of -her own.</p> -<p class="pnext">He left her wonderfully uplifted. Now -she felt less an exile from marriage than -a rebel. She almost convinced herself -that she had kept out of matrimony -because she was too good for it. The -solitary cell of her bed was a queenly dais -when she crept into it. She dreamed that -General Kitchener asked for her hand and -she refused it.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CHAPTER V</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Meldrum's cynicisms had been -strangely opportune to the -strangely opportune to the -despondent old maid. He unwittingly -helped her over a deep ditch and got -her past a bad night.</p> -<p class="pnext">But when she woke, the next morning -was but the same old resumption of the -same old day. Poverty, loneliness, and -the inanity of a manless household were -again her portion. The face she washed -explained to her why she was not sought -after by the men. The hair she combed -and wadded on her cranium clouded with -no romance even in her own eyes. She -realized that she was not loved for the -simple reason that she was not lovely. -She had never been a rose, and men did -not pluck dog-fennel to wear. And the -camomile could never become a -marguerite by wishing to be one.</p> -<p class="pnext">Debby haled her awkward self out of -her humble cot, out of her coarse and -frilless nightgown, into her matter-of-fact -clothes, and slumped down to a chill, -bare kitchen. There she made a fire in -a cold stove, that she might warm up -oatmeal and fry eggs and petrify a few -slices of bread into a scratchy toast.</p> -<p class="pnext">Not hearing her mother's slippers flap -and shuffle on the stairs as usual, she -climbed again to learn the cause. She -found her mother filled with rheumatism -and bad news. A letter had come the -day before, and she had concealed it from -Deborah so that the child might have a -nice time at the party; and did she have -a nice time, and who was there? But -that could wait, for never was there such -news as she had now, and there was -never any let-up in bad luck, and them -with no man to lean on or turn to.</p> -<p class="pnext">When Deborah finally pried the letter -from the poor old talons she found an -announcement that the A.G.&St.P.Ry. would -pass its dividend this year. To -the Larrabees the A.G.&St.P. had -always been the most substantial thing -in the world next to the Presbyterian Church.</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah's father had said that his -death-bed was cheered by the fact that -he had left his widow and his child several -shares of that soulful corporation's stock. -He called it the "Angel Gabriel & -St. Peter Railway." The dividend was as -sure as flowers in June. It had never -failed, and the Larrabee women always -spent it before it was paid. They had -pledged it this year.</p> -<p class="pnext">If they had followed the stock-market, -of which they had hardly heard, they -would have known that the railroad's -shares had fallen from 203 to 51 in two -years and that the concern was -curving gracefully toward a receivership. The -two women breakfasted that morning on -cold dismay and hot flashes of terror. -The few hundred dollars that had come -to them like semi-annual manna and -quails would not drop down this year, -perhaps not next year, or ever again. -Their creditors would probably throw -them into the town jail. The poorhouse -would be a paradise.</p> -<p class="pnext">In her distraction Debby had an -impulse to consult Newt Meldrum. She -hurried to Shillaber's Bazar, hoping he -might be there. Asaph met her himself -and told her that Newt had gone back -to New York on an early train. Debby -broke down and told of her plight. She -supposed that she would have to go -to work at once somewhere. But what -could she do?</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph was feeling amiable; he had -won a reprieve from Meldrum and had -made it up with his wife in private for -the public quarrel. His heart melted at -the thought of helping poor old Dubby -Debby, whom everybody was fond of in -a hatefully unflattering way. He had -helped other gentlewomen in distress, -and now he dumfounded Debby by saying, -"Why don't you clerk here, Debby?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why, I couldn't clerk in a store!" -she gasped, terrified. "I don't know the -least thing about it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'd soon learn the stock, and the -prices are all marked in plain letters that -you can memorize easy. You've got a -lot of friends, and we give a commission -on all the sales over a certain amount. -Better try it."</p> -<p class="pnext">Debby felt now, for the first time, -all the sweet panic that most women -undergo with their first proposal. This -offer of the job of saleswoman was as -near as Debby had come to being offered -the job of helpmeet. She even -murmured, "This is so sudden," and, "I'll -have to ask mama." It was an epoch-making -decision, a terrible leap from the -stagnant pool of the Larrabee cottage -to the seething maelstrom of Shillaber's -Bazar. She went home to her mother -with the thrilling, the glorious news that -henceforth she could acquire all of five -dollars a week by merely being present -at Shillaber's for twelve hours or so a -day, except Sat'days, when the store was -open evenings till the last possible -customer had gone home to bed. Mrs. Larrabee -apologized to Heaven for doubting -its watchfulness, commended Asaph -Shillaber to its attention, and bespoke for -him a special invoice of blessings.</p> -<p class="pnext">And Asaph went home to his midday -dinner as cheerfully as if he had received -them. First he announced the good word -about Meldrum's leniency, which Josie -greeted with:</p> -<p class="pnext">"You see! I told you that the party -would be the proper caper. Maybe after -this you'll believe that your wife knows -a thing or two."</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph assured her that he would never -doubt that she knew at least that much. -Then, like the wag he was, he said that -he had added a new clerk to his staff–a -lady and a beauty, whose charms would -draw no end of custom to the store and -dazzle the drummers from far and near.</p> -<p class="pnext">Josie's facile temper flashed at once -into glow. One of her chief interests in -the Bazar had been to make sure that -it never harbored any saleswoman whose -beauty could possibly lure her husband's -mind from his ledgers or his home ties. -Under the pretext of purchases or -suggestions she made frequent tours of -inspection, and if a girl too young or a -pair of eyes too bright gleamed behind a -counter Asaph heard of it at once. Some -years before he had bowed to the -inevitable and made it a rule to engage no -woman who could imaginably disturb -Josie's delicate equipoise.</p> -<p class="pnext">Meldrum had noticed the strange -array and had been inclined to impute the -decline of the store's prosperity to the -appearance of its staff.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good Lord, Ase!" he had groaned. -"What you got here–the overflow of -the Home for Aged and Indignant -Females? You've collected a bunch of -clock-stoppers that makes a suffragette -meeting look like a Winter Garden chorus. -People like those can't sell pretty things. -Send 'em all to the bone-yard and get -in some winners."</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph promised, and Meldrum -promised to arrange an extension of credit. -But Asaph would have feared bankruptcy -less than such a step. As soon as -Meldrum was gone he put the cap-sheaf -to his little army of relicts and remnants -by engaging Debby Larrabee! She made -the rest look handsome by contrast.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was the joke that he tried to -spring on his wife. Josie took the allusion -seriously, and Asaph was soon trying to -hold her down.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Wait! Wait till you hear who it -is!" he pleaded; but she stormed on:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I don't care who it is. I'm not going -to have you exposed to the wiles of any -of those designing minxes. I won't have -her, I tell you."</p> -<p class="pnext">At length he shouted above the din: -"I was only joking. It's Debby -Larrabee! I've engaged Debby Larrabee! -They've lost all their money."</p> -<p class="pnext">When Josie understood, she saw the -joke. She began to laugh with hysterics, -to slap and push her husband about -hilariously. "Aw, you old fraud, you! -So you've engaged Dubby Debby! Well, -you can keep her. I don't care how late -you stay at the store as long as Debby's -there."</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah was fortunate enough not to -overhear this. In fact, the long drought -in Debby's good luck seemed to be -ending. The skies over her grew dark with -the abundance of merciful rain. A gentle -drizzle preceded the cloudburst. There -usually is a deluge after a drought.</p> -<p class="pnext">A few days later found Debby installed -in the washable silks. The change in her -environment was complete. Instead of -dozing through a nightmare of ineptitude -in the doleful society of her old mother -in a dismal home where almost nobody -ever called, and never a man, now she -stood all day on the edge of a stream of -people; she chattered breezily all day to -women in search of beautiful fabrics. -She handled beautiful fabrics. Her -conversation was a procession of adjectives -of praise.</p> -<p class="pnext">Trying to live up to her surroundings, -she took thought of her appearance. -Dealing in fashions, with fashion-plates -as her scriptures, she tried to get in -touch with the contemporary styles. She -bounded across eight or ten periods at -one leap. First she found that she could -at least put up her hair as other women -did. The revolution in her appearance -was amazing. Next she retrimmed her -old hat, reshaped her old skirt–drew it -so tightly about her ankles that she was -forced to the tremendous deed of slitting -it up a few inches so that she could at -least walk slowly. The first time her -mother noticed it she said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why, Debby, what on earth! That -skirt of yours is all tore up the side."</p> -<p class="pnext">Debby explained it to her with the -delicious confusion of a Magdalen -confessing her entry upon a career of -profligacy. Her mother almost fainted. Debby -had gone wrong at this late day! She -had heard that department-stores were -awful places for a girl. The papers had -been full of minimum wages and things.</p> -<p class="pnext">Worse yet, Debby began to attitudinize, -to learn the comfort of poses. She -must be forever holding pretty things -forward. She took care of her hands, -polished her nails. Now and then she -must drape a piece of silk across her -shoulder and dispose her rigid frame into -curves. She began to talk of "lines" -to cold-cream her complexion.</p> -<p class="pnext">The mental change in her was no less -thorough. Activity was a tonic. Her -patience was compelled to school itself. -Prosperity lay in unfaltering courtesy, -untarnished cheer. Cynicism does not sell -goods. All day long she was praising -things. Enthusiasm became her instinct.</p> -<p class="pnext">Few men swam into her ken, but in -learning to satisfy the exactions of women -she built up tact. She had long since -omitted malekind from her life and her -plan of life. She was content. Women -liked her; women lingered to talk with -her; they asked her help in their vital -struggle for beauty. It was enough.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CHAPTER VI</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">One morning, as she was making -ready to go to the store, and taking -ready to go to the store, and taking -much time at the process, she observed -at her forehead a white hair. It -startled her, frightened her for a moment; -then she laughed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why, I'm growing old!"</p> -<p class="pnext">What use had she for youth? It had -never been kind to her. All the loss of -it meant was that it might harm her a -little at the store. She plucked out the -white thread and forgot it–nearly.</p> -<p class="pnext">Another day there was another white -hair. She removed that, too. Then -came another, and others, swiftly, till she -was afraid to take any more away.</p> -<p class="pnext">At last there was a whole gray lock. -She tucked it in and pinned it beneath -the nondescript mass of her coiffure. It -would have terrified her more if she had -not been so busy. She chattered and -proffered her wares all day long. Hunger -became one of her most sincere emotions. -Fatigue wore her out but strengthened -her, sweetened her sleep, kept dreams -away. When she woke she must hurry, -hurry to the store. The old stupidity of -her life had given way to an eternal hurry.</p> -<p class="pnext">And now the white hairs were hurrying, -too, like the snowflakes that suddenly -fill the air. But with this snow -came the quickening of pulse and glistening -of eyes, the reddening of cheeks that -the snow brings.</p> -<p class="pnext">The white fell about her hair as if she -stood bareheaded in a snow-storm. There -was a kind of benediction in it. She felt -that it softened something about her face, -as the snow softens old rubbish-heaps and -dreary yards and bleak patches.</p> -<p class="pnext">People began to say, "How well you -look, Debby!" They began to dignify her -as "Deborah" or "Miss Larrabee." Her -old contemners came to her counter with -a new meekness. Age was making it -harder and harder for them to keep the -pace. Bright colors did not become them -any longer. Their petals were falling -from them, the velvet was turning to -plush, and the plush losing its nap, -rusting, sagging, wearing through. The -years, like moths, were gnawing, gnawing.</p> -<p class="pnext">Debby felt so sorry for the women who -had been beautiful. She could imagine -how the decay of rosehood must hurt. -It is not necessary to have been Napoleon -to understand Elba.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">One day a sad, heavy figure dragged -along Deborah's aisle and sank upon the -mushroom stool in front of her. Deborah -could hardly believe that it was Josie -Shillaber. She could hardly force back -the shock that leaped to her expression. -From thin, white lips crumpled with -pain came a voice like a rustling of dead -leaves in a November gust. And the -voice said, with a kind of envy in it:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why, Deborah, how well you look!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, I am well!" Deborah chanted, -then repressed her cheer unconsciously. -It was not tactful to be too well. "That -is, I'm tol'able. And how are you this -awful weather?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not well, Debby. I'm not a bit well; -no, I'm never well any more. Why, your -hair is getting right white, isn't it, dear? -But it's real becoming to you. Mine -is all gray, too, you see, but it's awful!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Indeed it's not! It's fine! Your -children must love it. Don't they?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, the children!" Josie wailed. -"What do they think of me? The grown -ones are away, all flirting and getting -married. They say they'll come back, -but they never do. But I don't care. -I don't want them to see me like this. -And the young ones are so selfish and -inconsiderate. It's awful, getting old, -isn't it, Debby? It don't seem to worry -you, though. I suppose it's because you -haven't had sorrow in your life as I have. -I'm looking for something to wear, -Debby. The styles aren't what they -used to be. There's not a thing fit to -wear to a dog-fight in these new colors. -What are people coming to? I can't -find a thing to wear. What would you -suggest? Do help me!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah emptied the shelves upon the -counter, sent to the stock-room for new -shipments that had not been listed yet, -ransacked the place; but there was -nothing there for the woman whose husband -owned it all. The physician's wife was -sick with time, and even he could not -cure her of that. The draper's wife was -turning old; he could not swaddle her -from the chill of that winter. Josie was -trying to dress up a rose whose petals -had fallen, whose sepals were curled back; -the husk could not endure colors that -the blossom had honored.</p> -<p class="pnext">Josie, however, would not acknowledge -the inevitable autumn; she would not grow -old with the grace of resignation. She -limped from the store, shaking her -unlovely head. Could this be Josie -Shillaber, who had romped through life with -beauty in and about everything she was -and wore and did?</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah could have moralized over -her as Hamlet over Yorick's skull: Where -be your petal cheeks, your full, red lips, -your concise chin, and that long, lithe -throat, and those pearly shoulders, and -all that high-breasted, spindle-hipped, -lean-limbed girlishness of yours? And -where your velocity, your tireless -laughter, your amorous enterprise?</p> -<p class="pnext">Could they have ever been a part of -this cumberer of the ground, creeping -almost as slowly and heavily as a vine -along a cold, gray wall.</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah's hand went to her heart, -where there was an ache of pity for one -who had never pitied her. It was -Deborah now that was almost girlish of form; -she was only now filling out, taking flesh -upon her bones and rhythm into her -members. And that scrawny chicken-chest -of hers was becoming worthy of that -so beautiful name for so dear a place; she -was gaining a bosom. She did not know -how the whimsical sultan Time had -shifted his favor to her from his other slaves.</p> -<p class="pnext">She knew only that Josie was in -disgrace with beauty and stared after her -in wet-eyed pity. Who can feel so sorry -for a fallen tyrant as the risen victim -of tyranny?</p> -<p class="pnext">A few weeks later Deborah went again -to the Shillaber house, sat again on the -sofa in the dining-room. The children -had all come home. Josie was in the -parlor, almost hidden in flowers. She -did not rise to receive her guests. They -all filed by and looked at her and shook -their heads. She did not answer with -a nod. Birdaline wept over her, looking -older and terrified. But Pamela was -wonderfully pretty in black. She sang -Josie's favorite hymn, "Jesus, lover of my -soul," with a quartet accompanying her. -Then the preacher said a few words and prayed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Crankshaw was there, and so were -his camp-stools. One of them had -collapsed, and the bass of the choir had -been unable to open his. Some of the -young people giggled, as always. But -even for them the laughter was but the -automatic whir of a released spring, and -there was no mirth in the air.</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah was filled with a cowering -awe, as one who sees a storm rush past -and is unhurt save by the vision of -its wreckage. The girl Pamela had sung -here a year or so ago that song to the -rose, and had shredded the flower and -ruined it and tossed it aside. So time -had sung away the rose that had been -Josie. Deborah had heard the rose cry -out in its agony of dissolution, and now -it was fallen from the bush, scentless and -dead. But it had left at least other -buds to replace it. That was more than -Deborah had ever done.</p> -<p class="pnext">The store was closed the day of the -funeral, and Deborah went home with -her mother. All that her mother could -talk about was:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Poor Josie! But did you see Birdaline? -My, how poorly she looks! And -so kind of scared. And she used to be -such a nice-looking girl! My, how she -has aged! Poor Josie! But Birdaline! -What was she so scared about?"</p> -<p class="pnext">It was the very old triumphing over -the old for meeting the same fate. In -her own summer Mrs. Larrabee had been -a rose and had shriveled on the stem.</p> -<p class="pnext">That night Deborah thanked God that -He had not lent her beauty. Its -repayment was such ruin.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CHAPTER VII</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The next morning the Bazar was -open at the regular hour. Shoppers -open at the regular hour. Shoppers -came as numerously as before. People -were as eager as ever to enhance their -charms or disguise their flaws. In a few -days Asaph Shillaber was again in his -office. He wore black always, and a -black tie, and he moved about with -mourning in his manner.</p> -<p class="pnext">A month later his cravat was brown, -not black, and the next week it was red. -He was taking more care of his costume. -He talked more with the women -customers, especially the young women, and -he did not keep his eye anxiously on -the front door. He rubbed his hands -once more, recommending his goods.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a few months younger girls were -behind many of the counters. Deborah -felt that youth was invading and -replacing. She wondered how soon her -turn would come. It would be a sad -day, for she loved the work.</p> -<p class="pnext">But she took some reassurance from -the praises of Asaph. He paused now -and then to compliment her on a sale -or her progress. He led up to her some -of his most particular customers and -introduced her with a flourish. -Sometimes he paused as he went down the -aisle, and turned back to stare at her. -She knew that she had blushed, because -her face was hot, and once -Mrs. Crankshaw, who was trying to match a -sample, whispered to her:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Say, Deborah, what kind of rouge do -you use? It gives you the nicest color, -and it looks like real."</p> -<p class="pnext">When Deborah denied that she painted, -the undertaker's wife was angry. -She thought Deborah was trying to -copyright her complexion. Deborah's -cheeks tactfully turned pale again, -now that Asaph had taken his strange -eyes from her, and now the woman said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're right; it's your own. It -comes and goes! Look, now it's coming -back again."</p> -<p class="pnext">And so was Asaph. When Mrs. Crankshaw -had moved off Asaph hung about -awkwardly. Finally he put the backs of -his knuckles on the counter and leaned -across to murmur:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Say, Debby, I was telling Jim Crawford -yesterday that you made more sales -than any other clerk in the shop this -last month."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, really, did I?" Deborah gasped, -her eyes snapping like electric sparks. -They seemed to jolt Asaph; he fell back -a little. Then he leaned closer.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Crawford said he'd like to have you -in his store. I told him you were a -fixture here. Don't you leave me, Debby. -You won't, will you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why, Asaph!" she cried.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Leastways, you'll let me know any -offer you get before you take it. You -can promise me that, can't you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Of course I will, but– Well, I never!"</p> -<p class="pnext">This last was true. She never had -known till now that superlative rapture -of a woman, to have one man trying to -take her away from another. Debby -had not known it even as a little girl, -for if two boys claimed the same -dance–which had happened rarely enough–they -did not wrangle and fight, but each -yielded to the other with a courtesy that -was odious.</p> -<p class="pnext">On her way home Deborah began to -doubt the possibility of it all. Asaph -had been talking about somebody else, -or he had been joking–he was such a -terrible fellow to cook up things and fool -people! Or else Jim Crawford was just -making fun of Asaph. She would not -tell her mother this news.</p> -<p class="pnext">That night, as she was washing the -dishes after her late supper, the door-bell -burred.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You go, mother, will you? My hands -are all suds."</p> -<p class="pnext">Mrs. Larrabee hobbled slowly to the -hall door, but came back with a burst -of unsuspected speed. She was pale -with fright.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a man!" she whispered.</p> -<p class="pnext">"A man! Who could it be?" Debby gasped.</p> -<p class="pnext">"One of those daylight burglars, -prob'ly. What 'll we do?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"We could run out the back door -while he's at the front."</p> -<p class="pnext">"He might have a confederut waiting -to grab us there."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's so!"</p> -<p class="pnext">What possible motive a burglar could -have for grabbing these two women, -what possible value they would have for -him, they did not inquire. But Debby, -in the new executive habit of her mind, -grew bold enough to take at least a peek -at the stranger.</p> -<p class="pnext">The bell continued to ring while she -tiptoed into the parlor and lifted the -shade slightly aside. She speedily -recognized a familiar suit.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's old Jim Crawford," she said.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a panic of another sort now, -getting Debby's hands dry, her sleeves -down, her apron off, her hair puffed, the -lamp in the parlor lighted. Old Jim -Crawford was some minutes older before -he was admitted.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was the first male caller Deborah -had had since her mother could remember. -The old lady received him with a -flourish that would have befitted a king. -That he was a widower and, for Carthage, -wealthy may have had something to do -with it. A fantastic hope that at last -somebody had come to propose to -Deborah excited her mother so that she took -herself out of the way as soon as the -weather had been decently discussed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Mr. Crawford made a long and -ponderous effort at small talk and came -round to his errand with the subtlety of -an ocean liner warping into its slip. At -length he mumbled that if Miss Debby -ever got tired of Shillaber's there was a -chance he might make a place for her -in his own store. O' course, times was -dull, and he had more help 'n he'd any -call for, but he was a man who believed -in bein' neighborly to old friends, and, -knowin' her father and all–</p> -<p class="pnext">It was such a luxury to Deborah to be -sought after, even with this hippopotamine -stealth, that she rather prolonged -the suspense and teased Crawford to an -offer, and to an increase in that before -she told him that she would have to -"think it over."</p> -<p class="pnext">He lingered on the porch steps to -offer Deborah "anything within reason," -but she still told him she would think it -over. When she thought it over she felt -that it would be base ingratitude to -desert Asaph Shillaber, who had saved -her from starvation by taking her into -his beautiful shop. No bribe should -decoy her thence so long as he wanted her.</p> -<p class="pnext">She did not even tell Asaph about it the -next day. A week later he asked her if -Crawford had spoken to her. She said -that he had mentioned the subject, but -that, of course, she had refused to -consider leaving the man who had done -everything in the world for her.</p> -<p class="pnext">This shy announcement seemed to -exert an immense effect on Asaph. He -thanked her as if she had saved his life. -And he stared at her more than ever.</p> -<p class="pnext">A few evenings later there was another -ring at the Larrabee bell. This time -Mrs. Larrabee showed no alarm except -that she might be late to the door. It -was Asaph! He was as sheepish as a -boy. He said that it was kind of -lonesome over to his house and, seeing their -light, he kind of thought he'd drop -round and be a little neighborly. -Everybody was growing more neighborly nowadays.</p> -<p class="pnext">Once more Mrs. Larrabee vanished. -As she sat in the dining-room, pretending -to knit, she thought how good it was to -have a man in the house. The rumble of -a deep voice was so comfortable that -she fell asleep long before Asaph could -bring himself to going home.</p> -<p class="pnext">He had previously sought diversion in -the society of some of the very young and -very pretty salesgirls in his store, but he -found that, for all their graces, their -prattle bored him. They talked all -about themselves or their friends. Debby -talked to Asaph about Asaph. He and -she had been children together–they -were of the same generation; she was a -sensible woman, and she had learned -much at the counter-school. He got to -dropping round right often.</p> -<p class="pnext">That long-silent door bell became a -thing to listen for of evenings. Jim -Crawford dropped round now and then; the -elderly floor-walker at Shillaber's dropped -round one night and talked styles and -fabrics and gossip in a cackling voice. -When he had left, the matchmaker's -instinct led Mrs. Larrabee to warn Debby -not to waste her time on him. "Two -old maids talkin' at once is more'n I -can stand."</p> -<p class="pnext">Three times that year Newt Meldrum -was in town and called on Deborah. -She asked him to supper once, and he -simply raved over the salt-rising biscuits -and the peach-pusserves. After supper -he asked if he might smoke. That was -the last word in masculine possession. -If frankincense and myrrh had been -shaken about the room Debby and -Mrs. Larrabee could not have cherished them -as they did the odor of tobacco in the -curtains next day. Mrs. Larrabee cried -a little. Her husband had smoked.</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah was only now passing through -the stages the average woman travels in -her teens and early twenties, Deborah -was having callers. Sometimes two men -came at once and tried to freeze each -other out. And finally she had a -proposal!–from Asaph!–from Josie's and -Birdaline's Asaph! They had left him -alone with Debby once too often.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CHAPTER VIII</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was not a romantic wooing, and -Asaph was not offering the first love -Asaph was not offering the first love -of a bachelor heart. He was a -trade-broken widower with a series of assorted -orphans on his hands. And his declaration -was dragged out of him by jealousy -and fear.</p> -<p class="pnext">Jim Crawford, after numerous failures -to decoy Deborah, had at last offered -her the position of head saleswoman; -this included not only authority and -increase of pay, but two trips a year -to New York as buyer!</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah's soul hungered to make that -journey before she died, but she put even -this temptation from her as an ingratitude -to Asaph. Still, when Asaph called -the next evening it amused her to tell -him that she was going to transfer herself -to Crawford's–just to see what he would -say and to amuse him. Her trifling -joke brought a drama down on her head.</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph turned pale, gulped: "You're -going to leave me, Deborah! Why, I–I -couldn't get along without you. I don't -know what I'd do if I couldn't talk to -you all the time. Jim Crawford's in love -with you, the old scoundrel! But I won't -let you marry him. I got a nicer house -than what he has for you to live in, too. -There's the childern, of course, but you -like childern. They'd love you. They -need mothering something awful. I been -meaning to ask you to marry me, but -I was afraid to. But I couldn't let you -go. You won't, will you? I want you -should marry me–right off. You will, -won't you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah stared at him agape. Then -she cried: "Asaph Shillaber, are you -proposing to me or quarreling with me–which?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm proposin' to you, darn it, and I -won't take 'No' for an answer."</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah had often wondered what she -would say if the impossible should -happen and a man should ask for her hand. -And now it had come in the unlikeliest -way, and what she said was:</p> -<p class="pnext">"Sakes alive! Ase, one of us must be crazy!"</p> -<p class="pnext">Asaph was in a panic; and he besieged -and besought till she told him she would -think it over. The sensation was too -delicious to be finished with an immediate -monosyllable. He went away blustering. -Her mother had slept through the -cataclysm. Deborah postponed telling her, -and went to her room in a state of ecstatic -distress.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her room was prettier than it had -been, and the bureau was more bravely -equipped. It was a place of interesting -mystery; there were curling-irons and -skin-foods and nail-powders, and what not?</p> -<p class="pnext">Now she was asked to give up this -loneliness, this lifelong privacy, with its -blessing and its bane, to move over into -a man's house and share his room and -her life with him.</p> -<p class="pnext">Only, now she was asked this at the -period when many women were returning -to a second spinstership and one of her -friends, who had married young and -whose daughter had married young, was -a grandmother. Deborah was experiencing -the terror that assails young brides, -the dread of the profoundest revolution -in woman's life. Only in her case the -terror was the greater from the double -duration of her maidenhood. She was -still a girl, and yet gray was in her hair.</p> -<p class="pnext">The thought of marriage was almost -intolerably fearful, and yet it was almost -intolerably beautiful.</p> -<p class="pnext">How wonderful that she should be -asked to marry the ideal of her youth–she, -the laughing-stock of the other girls; -and now she could have a husband, a -home, and children of various ages, from -the little tot to the grown-ups. She -would never have babies of her own, she -supposed, but she could acquire them -ready-made. All her stifled domestic -instincts flamed at the new empire offered her.</p> -<p class="pnext">And then she remembered Josie and -Josie's sneer: "Poor old Debby. She -never was a rose."</p> -<p class="pnext">And now Josie was dead a year and -more, and Josie's children and Josie's -lover were submitted to her to take or -leave. What a revenge it would be! -What a squaring of old accounts! How -she would turn the laugh back on them! -How well she could laugh who waited to -the last!</p> -<p class="pnext">Then she shook her head. What had -she to do with revenge? What meaner -advantage could anybody take than to -flaunt a dead enemy's colors? We can -all deal sharply with our friends, but -we must be magnanimous with our foes.</p> -<p class="pnext">No, it was impossible. Josie had -suffered enough in the ebb of her beauty. -Debby could not strike at her in her grave.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">CHAPTER IX</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">She waited to announce her decision -till Asaph should call again. Then -till Asaph should call again. Then -she told him what she had decided, but -not why. He suspected every other -reason except the truth. He was always -a quick, hard fighter, and now Deborah -had to endure what Josie had endured -all her life. He denounced her, -threatened her, cajoled her, pleaded with her, -but Josie's ghost chaperoned the two, -forbade the banns, seemed to whisper, -"His bad temper was what ruined my beauty."</p> -<p class="pnext">The next day in the store Asaph looked -wretched. Deborah grew the more -desirable for her denial. He had thought -that he had but to ask her; and now -she refused his beseeching. He paused -before her counter and begged her to -reconsider.</p> -<p class="pnext">He called at her home every evening. -He went to her mother and implored her -aid. The poor old soul could hardly -believe her ears when she heard that -Deborah was not only desired, but -difficult. She promised Asaph that Deborah -would yield, and he went away happy.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a weird conflict in the -forsaken house that night. The old pictures -nearly fell off the walls at the sight of -the stupefied mother trying to compel -that lifelong virgin to the altar. -Mrs. Larrabee pointed out that there would -never be another chance. The -A.G.&St.P.Ry. was in the receiver's hands. -They would starve if Deborah lost her job.</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah's only answer was that she -would go to Crawford's. Her mother -could not shake her decision, and -hobbled off to bed in senile dismay. She -had always been asking what the world -was coming to, and now it was there. -Deborah's heart was a whirlpool of -indecision. Asaph's gloom appalled her, -his evident need of her was his one -unanswerable argument. He had given -her her start in life. How could she -desert his store, how could she refuse -him his prayer? But how could she -take Josie's place, kidnap Josie's children? -Why was such a puzzle forced upon her, -where every decision was cruel to some -one, treacherous to something?</p> -<p class="pnext">The turmoil made such a din in her -soul that she could hardly transact the -business at her counter. As she stood -one morning asking a startled shopper -if a bolt of maroon taffeta matched a -clipping of magenta satin, she saw -Newton Meldrum enter the store. As he -went by to the office he saw her, lifted -his hat, held it in air while he gazed, then -went on.</p> -<p class="pnext">It occurred to Deborah that he could -help her. She could lay the case before -him, and he would give her an impartial -decision. She waited for him, and when -he left the office she beckoned to him -and asked him shyly if he would take -supper with her and her mother.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You bet I will!" he said, and stared -at her so curiously that she flashed red.</p> -<p class="pnext">Through the supper, too, he stared at -her so hard that she buttered her thumb -instead of her salt-rising biscuit. -Afterward she led him to the parlor and closed -the door on her mother. This was in -itself an epoch-making deed. Then she -said to Newt: "Better light the longest -cigar you have, for I have a long story -to tell you. Got a match?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He had, but he said he hadn't. She -fetched one, and was so confused that -she lighted it for him. Her hand -trembled till he had to steady it with his -own big fingers, and he stared at her -instead of at the match, whose flickering -rays lighted her face eerily.</p> -<p class="pnext">When she had him settled in a chair–the -best patent rocker it was–she told -him her story. There is no surer test of -character than the problem a mind -extracts from a difficulty. As Meldrum -watched this simple, starved soul -stating its bewilderment he saw that her one -concern was what she should do to be -truest to other souls. There was no -question of her own advantage.</p> -<p class="pnext">He studied her earnestly, and his eyes -were veiled with a kind of smoke of their -own behind the scarf of tobacco-fumes. -When she had finished she raised her -eyes to his in meek appeal and -murmured, "And now what ought I to do?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He gazed at her a long while before he -answered, "Do you want to go to Crawford's?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, I'd get more money and I'd -get to see New York, but I don't like to -leave Asaph. He says he needs me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you–do you want to marry Asaph?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh no! I–I like him awfully much, -but I–I'm kind of afraid of him, too. -But he says he needs me; and Josie's -children need me, he says."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But do you–l-love Asaph?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh no! not the kind of love, that -is, that you read about. No, I'm kind -of afraid of him. But I'm not expecting -the kind of love you read about. I'm -wondering what I ought to do?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"And you want me to decide?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"If you only would."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why do you leave it to me, of all people?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Because you're such a fine man; you -know so much. I have more–more respect -for you than for anybody else I know."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You have!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh yes! Oh yes, indeed!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"And you'll do what I tell you to?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye-yes, I will."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Promise?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I promise."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Give me your hand on it."</p> -<p class="pnext">He rose and stood before her and put -forth that great palm of his, and she -set her slim white fingers in it. And then -there must have been an earthquake or -something, for suddenly she was swept -to her feet and she was enveloped in -his big arms and crushed against him, -and his big mouth was pressed so -fiercely to hers that she could not breathe.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was so frightened that her heart -seemed to break. And then she knew -nothing till she found herself in the -patent rocker, with him kneeling at her -side, pleading with her to forgive him -for the brute he was.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was very weak and very much -afraid of him and entirely bewildered. -She wanted to run away, but he would -not let her rise. The only thing that -eased her was his saying over and over -again, "You are the most beautiful thing -in this world."</p> -<p class="pnext">She had to laugh at that, and she -heard herself saying, "Why, Newt -Meldrum, one of us must be crazy!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am–crazy with love of you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But to call me beautiful–poor old Debby!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You are beautiful; you're the -handsomest woman I know."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Me–with my white hair!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"White roses. I don't know what's -happened to you. You're not the woman -I talked to at Asaph's, at all. You're -like a girl–with silver hair–only -you've got a woman's big heart, and you -haven't the selfishness of the young, -but that kind of wonderful sadness that -sweetens a soul more than anything else."</p> -<p class="pnext">Meldrum was as much amazed as -Deborah was at hearing such rhapsodies -from his matter-of-fact soul.</p> -<p class="pnext">Her comment was prosaic enough. -She fell back and sighed. "Well, I -guess both of us must be crazy."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I guess we are." He laughed -boyishly. "We'd better get married and -keep the insanity in one family."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Get married!" she echoed, still -befuddled. "And after you telling me what you did!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, but I didn't know the Lord -was at work on a masterpiece like -you–girl, woman, grandmother, child, beauty, -brains–all in one."</p> -<p class="pnext">Deborah was as exhausted by the -shock as if she had been stunned by -lightning. She was tired out with the -first kiss an impassioned man had ever -pressed upon her lips, the first -bone-threatening hug an ursine lover had ever -inflicted upon her wicker ribs.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was more afraid of Newt Meldrum -than she had been of Asaph. But when -she told him she would think it over he -declined to wait. He laughed at her pleas. -She had promised to abide by his -decision, and he had decided that she should -go neither to Asaph's nor to Crawford's, -but to New York–not as any old buyer, -either, except of things for her own -beautiful body and some hats for that -fleecy white hair of hers. And she should -live in New York, take her mother there -if she wanted, and close up this house -after they had been married in it.</p> -<p class="pnext">She had been shaking her head to all -these things and dismissing them gently -as the ravings of a delirious boy. But -now she said: "Oh, I could never be -married in this town."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And why not?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, I don't know. I just couldn't."</p> -<p class="pnext">She was still afraid that people would -laugh at her, but more afraid that they -would think she was trying to flaunt her -triumph over them–the triumph of -marrying the great Newton Meldrum. She -could bear the laughter; she was used -to the town's ridicule. But she could -not endure to be triumphing over anybody.</p> -<p class="pnext">Meldrum did not fret over her motives; -he simply nodded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"All right; then we'll be married in -New York. How soon can you start?"</p> -<p class="pnext">She stared at him, this amazing man. -"How soon? Why, I haven't said I'd -marry you yet! I'll have to think it over."</p> -<p class="pnext">He laughed and crushed her in his arms -and would not let her breathe till she -breathed "Yes." He was the most -amazing man. But, then, men were all -so amazing when you got to know them. -They must have all gone crazy at once, though.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst small">THE END</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line">*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER</span> ***</p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title">A Word from Project Gutenberg</h2> -<p class="pfirst">We will update this book if we find any errors.</p> -<p class="pnext">This book can be found under: <a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40016"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40016</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext">Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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